It's well-known that a drunk person can be the most frightening presence.
Because often you don't know what they might do, what they might say, or what reckless incidents they might cause.
If you believe in something like the truth comes out when you're drunk, then you're completely fooled.
There's no such thing as the truth coming out when drunk. It's often because of recklessness, saying anything, being dominated by the emotions of the moment, and it actually has nothing to do with telling the truth.
Now, beautful woman, who was drunk and collapsed in Sam's arms, reeking of a mix of perfume and alcohol, is that Zoe.
She is a mature, seemingly gentle, caring, and soft-spoken beautiful neighbor.
Zoe looked drunk, her cheeks flushed, as she leaned against the door frame, smiling at Sam.
Her smile was enchanting and seductive.
With drunkenness, her gaze at Sam was undisguised.
Sam stood inside the door, looking at her. "How much did you drink today to get this drunk?"
Zoe brushed her hair from her forehead, revealing her beautiful face more clearly to Sam.
Her coat was nowhere to be seen, and the buttons of her white shirt seemed almost bursting, strained by her very full E-cup breasts.
It must be said, Zoe's figure was truly impressive.
"Umm... a company dinner, those old men just thinking of filling me with drinks, but they still underestimated my capacity." Zoe's tone revealed the helplessness of the adult world.
Sam thought for a moment. "So, how would you like me to help you?"
Zoe gently massaged her temples, appearing to have a headache.
"Quite simply... could you help me open the door? I'm a bit dizzy right now, I can't open my door, I'm really sorry to trouble you."
Zoe, with her striking figure and beautiful face, arriving at her neighbor's house while drunk, seemed unreasonable. But if it was just to help open a door, Sam had no reason to refuse.
He worried that if he refused, Zoe might say she would just come into his house, which would be even more problematic!
Sam looked at the keys Zoe handed over, like a silent invitation, took them, and walked outside.
"If it's just about opening the door, that's a small matter, no problem. But can you walk properly now?" Sam asked, somewhat worried.
Zoe tried to stand up straight by the door frame but seemed unsteady, as if she might collapse at any moment.
"I should be... fine, don't underestimate a working woman, I'm not that weak~ Ah~!"
However, Zoe had only taken a few steps when her high heels wobbled, as if her ankles were out of control, and she seemed about to fall.
Fortunately, Sam was agile and quickly caught Zoe around the waist.
The moment he touched her, he felt the softness of her waist, her body leaning against him. In her panic, she instinctively hugged Sam's arm, her full breasts pressing tightly against Sam.
In that instant, their contact was incredibly intimate.
Zoe, a bit shyly, raised her head to look at Sam, seemingly unaware of how suggestive their contact was. Instead, she smiled seductively. "Sam, your arms are so reliable, filled with a man's strength."
Sam took a gentle breath and then said, "I'll help you walk, be careful."
Sam closed his own door and then helped the woman with the full breasts to her house. The short journey was filled with unavoidable physical contact due to the woman's drunken state.
Having finally opened her door with the keys, Sam felt an intense heat throughout his body, his trousers visibly tented.
"There you go, Miss Zoe, the door's open."
Zoe, still leaning on Sam, barely opened her eyes, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.
"Ah... yes, we're at my place. But could you help me inside? I've gotten so used to your help, I feel like a butterfly that can't fly."
What an odd metaphor.
Sam hesitated for a moment, then said, "Alright, but be careful, there's a step here."
Zoe's house was clean and tidy, without too much clutter or meaningless furniture. A TV, table, refrigerator, and sofa seemed to make up the woman's living room.
"Umm, so comfortable~"
When Sam placed Zoe on the sofa, she immediately lay down, seemingly finding the position very comfortable.
Her arms spread out, lying on her back, legs slightly bent. Her long legs, wrapped in black stockings and wearing high heels, were voluptuously yet perfectly proportioned.
The deep blue pencil skirt accentuated her tantalising hips, even through the stockings, creating an irresistible sex drive.
"It's so hot, could you turn on the air conditioning for me?"
Sam quickly found the remote and turned on the air conditioner in the living room. The cool air seemed to bring some clarity and comfort, perhaps helping Zoe regain sobriety.
"Miss Zoe, if you're okay now, I should go back... eh?"
Just as Sam was about to leave, he witnessed a startling scene. Zoe on the sofa, perhaps due to the heat of the room or not fully sober from her drunken state, had started unbuttoning her shirt.
Suddenly, her full and firm breasts were exposed to Sam's eyes. The breasts, wrapped in a pink, lace-trimmed bra, were tantalizingly attractive.
Sometimes, one hates having such keen eyesight. Despite the distance, Sam could clearly see her nipples, barely concealed by the bra.
It seemed to be a special attribute of large breasts.
Zoe seemed to hear something and lazily opened her eyes, apparently oblivious to how alluring she appeared at the moment.
Of course... perhaps this was exactly what she wanted.
"Sam, what's up? Are you in a hurry to get home? Do you have things to do?" she asked.
Zoe, with her mature and sexy demeanor, was still dressed in her provocative office lady uniform.
The allure to men was simply irresistible. Who could withstand it?
Sam unconsciously swallowed, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "Nothing much, just that it's getting late, and it's not quite right for me to stay in your house any longer. I should go now; you rest well."
But as Sam was about to leave, he heard her say from behind, "Don't go just yet, can you help me with one more thing?"
"What is it?"
Sam turned back and saw Zoe lying there, lifting her legs towards him. This angle exposed her most private area, her legs wrapped in black stockings, and under her skirt, white lace panties with a butterfly pattern. The panties were thin and revealing.
And she still wore her black high heels.
She lay there on the sofa, her hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, her gaze hazy and unfocused.
One hand was lazily placed above her head, and the other was at her enticing red lips.
She breathed gently, seemingly softly biting her finger.