The End of The Season-Part Two

We sat side by side, in profile, trading quips and bon mots, buying each other drinks for quite some time, little realizing that the groups we had each come in with had both dwindled down to just a few people, and then just disappeared, all of our friends having long since called it a night. At some point, by mutual agreement, we decided to move to the bar, and continued trading drinks back and forth, each of us with a pile of bills in front of our respective drinks. The continued consumption of hard liquor took its toll quickly once we moved to the barstools, and we moved closer to each other, leaning into each other, perched on our outside elbows, shoulders side by side, body warmth travelling back and forth. I could feel my lips getting numb, always a sure sign for me that I was getting drunker than drunk, and I began to have a bit of difficulty focusing on what she was saying.
Suddenly, she reached behind to the back of my head, and pulled my face closer to hers. I offered no resistance, and we posed in that position for just few seconds. I could feel her warm breath as we sat with mouths no more than an inch or two apart. Her breath reeked of all the booze she had consumed during the night, although I'm sure that I didn't smell a whole lot different. She tilted her face to the left and mashed her lips against mine, forcefully pushing her tongue into my mouth, aggressively attacking my lips and tongue, softly biting my tongue and lips, then harder, then hard. I moaned softly, almost more of an exhale, something only she could hear, remaining stationery, hands at my sides, compliant, my mouth open, sucking her tongue deeper, asking for more. She brought her other hand to the side of my face, gently caressing the area just below my jaw.
"We're done here," she said. "It's time to move on." And I knew this for what it was, taking it not as a suggestion but as a command. I worked hard to get off my stool, now feeling the full force of all I had to drink, the room less than stationery, my legs and focus in general somewhat questionable, but my intent pinpointed on doing what I had been told to do. I followed her to the door of the bar, hoping that we could find a taxi somewhere, not sure where we were going or what we were going to do once we got there.