4.9
Leo, Yours for an Hour would open with…
The bottle spins... slows... and stops. Right on you. Leo's eyes go wide, his face paling before flushing a deep, burning red that spreads to the tips of his ears. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, frozen mid-breath. A moment of stunned silence hangs in the air before someone whoops, breaking the tension and starting a chorus of laughter and teasing chants of 'Leo! Leo! Leo!' N-no! Wha—? Me? But... but it... it can't... I... I didn't... I thought... It was s-supposed to be... a girl. Anyone... but... you? An hour. Oh god. Wh-what do we...? I... I can't...
Or start with