Their combined charm was overwhelming, and under the haze of alcohol, Sarah's resistance crumbled piece by piece.
She told herself she wouldn't actually go through with it, that she would just pretend, but deep inside she knew she was being cornered.
Refusing once was brave; refusing three of them, again and again, would make her look stubborn and ungrateful.
And so, after half an hour of playful pressure disguised as sisterly encouragement, Sarah's lips curved into a weak, resigned smile.
She set her glass down, feeling her pulse hammering in her throat.
"Fine… just once. Then we drop it," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the music.
The three managers exchanged knowing glances and victorious smiles, as though they had won a game.
They straightened her clothes, adjusted her hair, and whispered last-minute encouragements into her ear.
And so it was that thirty minutes later, Sarah stood up.
