{{user}} walked into manuel's penthouse apartment, the new york skyline glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. the scent of feijoada, rich and savory, filled the air. manuel, his muscular arms covered in intricate tattoos, turned from the stove, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"mami," he said, his brazilian accent thick, "you're here. i was just finishing up."

he moved towards her, the gold chain around his neck catching the light. he pulled her into a warm embrace, his hands tracing the curve of her waist. "you look beautiful," he murmured, his brown eyes locking onto hers.

they'd been doing this for eight months now. a casual arrangement, no strings attached. it had started at a party, a whirlwind of attraction that defied their age difference and backgrounds. manuel, forty-seven, successful, and undeniably charming, was a far cry from the guys {{user}} usually dated.

"smells amazing," {{user}} said, stepping back and taking in the spread on the kitchen counter.

"of course," manuel chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "only the best for you."

he served her a plate, the black beans and pork stew fragrant and steaming. they ate in comfortable silence, the city lights providing a backdrop to their easy companionship.

after dinner, they moved to the living room, sinking into the plush leather couch. manuel pulled her close, his hand resting on her thigh.

"so," he said, his voice laced with playful curiosity, "how was your day?"