ii. the boys, the girls, they all like augustine.
◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜

The nightclub pulses with lights — neon lights flickering in time with some old Wisin and Yandel song that causes the walls to vibrate. Augustine Slade leans against the glass topped bar, a vision in the form fitting red dress that cling to her like a second skin — the fabric shimmers with every movement, catching the light in a way that made her look like something out of every man's wet dream. Heads turn when she leaned against the counter, her legs crossed at the ankle, idly sipping a dirty martini as she exudes a sort of effortless magnetism — its the kind of dress that would've made many men soil their pants if she even so much as leaned over a counter. Simply put, it would tick Max off — if it were any other evening, she might've cared, she doesn't this time.

It's Carlos that approaches her — he wasn't the only one, Augustine's presence practically demanded attention, even if unwanted, but where others hesitated, almost as if intimidated by the threat of Max's wrath, Carlos is the one to confidently moved with ease, as if he thrives on the challenge. Weaving through the crowds, he stops beside her, leaning against the counter in a nonchalant manner, just enough to make his presence known but not enough to step into her space. "Has hecho que todos los hombres en esta sala se olviden de cómo respirar." he says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the pounding bass of the room, his eyes flicking over her frame, taking in every inch of the dress on her frame, "es un vestido un poco atrevido para Monaco, no?"

Augustine smiles slyly, "and yet still you stand." she replies with another sip of her dirty martini, "me impresiona." she adds, "most men would've combusted by now."

A small laugh tears from his lips as he signals the bartender as if her teasing hadn't set his skin a flame, "I've been in a couple of high pressure situations." he takes a sip from the glass in his hand, "this is just a warm up."

She cocks her head to the side, studying him as if intrigued by him. "Careful Carlos." she warns as she takes another sip from martini glass, "wouldn't want Mad Max to come after you," she teased and rolls her eyes, "after all, you're playing a dangerous game with that silver tongue of yours." she says, "Monaco is not known for being forgiving."

"And I'm not known for backing down." he shoots back as he tilts his head towards her, "I'm not scared of Max, though I am wondering where he is... and if it is worth the risk than spend the rest of the night wondering what I missed out on." his eyes linger on the inch of skin that seems to be revealed as the dress hikes up her thighs, her creamy pale skin glowing under the dim light of the bar.

She leans in slightly, blurring the invisible line between them, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, "wouldn't you like to know?" she asks and then drops her voice again, "I can guarantee you'll miss out on a lot of things, but taking the risk? Oh I assure you, it's worth facing Max and more."

The idea seems tantalizing enough and his grin widens, "I like a good gamble, especially.." his voice drops to a whisper and he leans in a little more, just enough for his cool breath to be felt against her lips, "when they look like this.."

Augustine raises her own glass and grins, "Question is... can you keep up...?"

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

And he can keep up. The door to Carlos' suite slammed shut behind them, the sound barely registers over the heavy thrum of Augustine's heart pounding in her chest. Augustine's back hit the wall first, a small breathless laugh left her lips as his Carlos followed, his hands braced on either side of her, caging her in. The playful edge to their banter had dissipated into something far more intoxicating. "You waste no time." she breathes as her lithe fingers toy with the collar of his shirt.

Carlos's smirk was quick, his focus only on her, "You're one to talk." he breathes, his accent curling around the words like a sensual caress, his hands find her waist, his hand sliding up the curve of her body, as if committing every line to memory. "You've had me losing my mind since you walked into that club..." he whispers, "no es justo que tengas novio..." he adds.

Her reply is eaten alive by a sharp inhale as his lips brush against her jaw, his touch growing more insistent. The heat between them palpable as the air in the room grew charged with an unspoken promise. Augustine's fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel his skin against hers. A soft and guttural groan of satisfaction tears from his throat as his mouth claims hers; it wasn't slow or tentative, it was all consuming, as if he'd die without her. His hands roam her body, sliding down to hitch her thigh around his waist, bringing her closer until there was no space between them.

They never fully made it to the bed, not when the edge was right there; his touch grows more urgent, insistent even, each kiss was hungrier than the last. Soft groans and whispery moans leave the two of them, clothes left crumpled on the floor in a messy pile as they moved in sync — she burns where he touches and burns where he doesn't.

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

Augustine slips out the next morning; like it never happened. She'd apologize the next time she saw him — it didn't have to mean anything to either of them.

It didn't mean anything — it didn't matter that it happened less than 24 hours after Max had broken up with her. She was free to fuck whoever she wanted; he couldn't say anything.

She glances down at her phone when it vibrates — her lips forming a small smile at the text on her screen.

+34 128-310-2428
had fun last night. call
me if you ever need to
talk — C.

Yes, she could forget about Max, Carlos seemed like a good distraction. Willa was right, the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else.

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃