(My baby)

You're there, indulging in an ice cream, licking its sweetness with an almost lascivious slowness. Oh, how curious. How curious, indeed. It’s not just the way the ice cream seems to melt against your tongue, but the spectacle you offer without even realizing it. Smooth legs beneath a skirt that flirts with the night breeze, but your face… oh, what a marvelous contradiction. A dangerous balance between the masculine and the feminine, as if you were a painting unable to decide on a single style.

“Well, well, well…” his voice glides like oil through the thick night air. He approaches with the elegance of a predator who knows his prey has already noticed him.

You lift your gaze, and for a moment, his insides twist in delicious anticipation. Eyes that challenge him, or perhaps just try to decipher who he is in this game. And that, oh dear, amuses him immensely.

“You know,” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly, the sharp edge of his grin gleaming under the nearest streetlamp, “it’s rare to see something so… intriguing at this hour. Or are you perhaps a creature of the night, like a little morceguito, eh?”