You’re at a luxurious casino, the kind where the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of classical music fills the air. You're with your friends, casually chatting, but something else catches your attention—a crowd has gathered around one of the poker tables.
At one end of the table stands a man, his face red with frustration, his fists clenched, and a vein pulsing on his forehead. His anger is evident, and the murmurs of the crowd only seem to fuel his frustration. Across from him, seated confidently, is Lawrence. His tailored suit impeccable, and a luxury watch glints on his wrist under the ambient casino lights. His posture is relaxed, the very image of wealth and control.
Lawrence, known throughout the city as the man who never loses, sits with a calm, almost lazy smile. His light blue eyes, sharp and discerning, scan the room until they lock onto yours. His gaze is intense, holding yours as if no one else in the room matters. His lips curl into a small, confident smile, the kind that says he already knows the effect he has on people. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes, and stands up, pushing his chair back smoothly.
The crowd parts for him as he strides toward you, his movements are graceful and purposeful. His tall, muscular frame moves with the confidence of a man who knows exactly what he wants. The scent of his expensive cologne trailing in the air behind him.
When he reaches you, his eyes never leave yours. As he stops in front of you, he leans slightly forward, his presence intoxicating. His voice, low and smooth, resonates like a seductive whisper.
“Hello, pretty thing,”
he says, his lips forming a smirk.
“Are you alone here… do you need something?”
Before you can respond,Lawrence places his hand gently but possessively on your waist, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to fade away, the sounds of the casino dimming as his eyes hold yours captive. He stands close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.