|◁ II ▷|

nao — make it out alive.

THE DARK MOOD OF MELANCHOLY had not left Ebén's face — but he knew he was drunk.

Well, somewhere on the spectrum between slightly tipsy and really, really drunk. He was being celebrated by those that needed any excuse to shake a leg and he, too, was celebrating surviving his own deep-seated woes with hard, brown liquor.

Most people did not see him as a man who suffered, when he had, — but instead, they chose to poke fun at his overt obsession to sex and desperate women.

He cradled the glass which contained the brown liquor with his thumb and index, feigning a thought.

Ebén couldn't stop himself thinking down a spiral about all the things he wanted to change if time was something that could be bought.

Maybe, his mum wouldn't have succumbed to her habit. Maybe, his dad wouldn't have been forced to choose between a rock and a hard place. Maybe, he could finally understand what healthy love was.

He hated thinking about contingencies but it sort of helped to wash away the melancholy.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Cástro" chirped Eli, the baby-faced bartender, who called out to the disconsolate man who had not stopped drinking.

He tipped his glass up at Eli — as a nod of thanks but his lips could not sound out the word fast enough. Crowds had now gathered but his eyes were on the prowl in search of something in particular.

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"EB!" He heard his name being called out — but recognised that jarring voice immediately.

Ezra's YSL-twisted heels clacked against the marble tile; her slender hips moving in rhythm. Ebén watched as her mink eyelashes were batting at him; and could not help but feel nothing towards her.

He continued to down as she waltzed closer.

Her black duster coat hid her suspenders that she was wearing before flinging it open to preempt a reaction; a gasping one preferably but Ebén's face was locked, looking all wooden.

Her lips caked in a red lip skated down his neck, and was caught between his jawline and the bottom of his earlobe — making sure that whatever she was bound to say next; no one else heard.

She undid his shirt button as she slid a hand into the gap, leaning in — "Can we ditch this party?"

"What have you got in mind?"

Ebén had known already what she had come to him for, but, liked when a woman wore confidence and wanted her to tell him exactly what she wanted.

She deep-rasped, Cognac already rubbing harshly on her vocal chords, "I want you to myself... in ya bed"

She mirrored his eyebrow flick, wondering whether it was the dutch courage that gave her this bravery or whether it was a trait she had always had but never harnessed. Her red acrylic stabbers scuttled down his adam's apple and along the lapels of his crisp-cut sable black tuxedo, her hands landing on his buttons.

"Eli, set me 'nother" he mouthed, gesturing at the bartender to load up another of the same drink.

She didn't like how preoccupied he was to his drink and didn't think she had the strength to continue to vie for his attention but still chose to anyway. Her hands were on his jaw, trying to get him to take her figure from all angles, "Come upstairs?"

He stiffened up, downing another glass, "Imma pass"

Her willowy palms pinioned his thighs to the bar stool, reaching for his belt buckle, "Come upstairs" She tugged — and it was no longer a question, but a demand. She was stealing his pointers in the hopes that her insistence would pay off.

"You want me to abandon my guests?" He asked her in a censure, knowing that his answer would not change, irrespective of her answer.

"Yeah?" She had now become unsure of herself.

"Too bad. I'm busy" He threw her hands off of him and resumed his brown liquor drinking.

A dawn of lust knitted dark circles in her eyes, her fingers had slipped and landed on the rim of his drink. She brought the glass to her lips, resting it just below her nose, feeling emboldened by her sexual prowess to taste what he was drinking.

He reluctantly watched her, "What you doin'?"

She took a gulp, followed by a wince and a sharp cough, "It doesn't taste as nice as it looks"

"So, like you then?"

She buffed her nose against his cleanly shaven face. His thumb brushed against her salivated lips roughly, her whole demeanour yielding itself to him — like always. The lining of her astringent throat was doused in alcohol as she began to assault his lips with her acerbic kisses.

Breathing against her thin lips, "We're in public"

Lust monopolised her usual silvery-white eyes, as she unashamedly cruised down his lips to the stout bulge engraved under his pant leg. She garbled tipsily, "When has that ever stopped us?" Her acrylics scurried to jerk open the rest of his buttoned cotton shirt as she began scratching his chest.

His hands roamed to her panty line, grabbing at her torn black underwear lace, and sliding it down her hips so that part of it hung past her ankles. Her duster coat shielded the full view of her cleanly shaven core as his thumb and finger slide itself in.

An impassioned roar left her lips which caused heads to axle and see what they both were up to. Her words were all intelligible, his fingers giving her no room to redirect her breath.

Then she came all over his fingers.

Her body flopped, barely hanging up right.

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"HI, CAN I GET A VODKA TONIC PLEASE?"

The airy voice sounded familiar to Ebén's drunk ears as he continued to sip on yet another glass.

"Hi" Eli greeted back, pouring the tonic water into a glass and dashing in a cut-up half lemon.

She noticed Ebén sat on the bar stool with one arm tucked underneath his armpit and the other was wrapped around the tumbler glass. She needed to find away to eject herself from his line of sight.

She did not want him to notice her and have him lord the fact that she had ended up coming over here.

She parted with a ten pound note from her purse; laying it against the bar counter and expecting considerable change back.

"Drinks are free, Maya. It's a open bar" were the slightly slurred words that came out of Ebén's mouth as his brown finger pointed to the message board which confirmed that they were indeed, free.

She stuffed the note back into her purse, her face was now sparking a red blush, "Thanks for the.. heads up"

He finally lifted his head — and gazed not so innocently at her. She wore a coral-pink satin bodycon dress that made her melanated skin glow under the glare of the rich and famous and her plump teardrop breasts sat upright.

An unbecoming smile swept across his face.

Her wispy-long lashes flicked up as she blinked, a slight smile now forming. Her lips made way for her straw to enter her mouth and Ebén could not help but notice the indent on her ring finger.

"I knew you'd come"

Maya stood sternly; wanting to prematurely end this conversation but couldn't help but notice the glares that were watching her converse with Ebén, "Well, you've got bribery and alcohol to thank then"

He stepped to her, "No other incentives?"

"Nah."

"At least, you're honest then"

Her plump lips followed into a stuffed grin, lowering her gape as she followed his eyes. They stood in nothing but silence, trying to balance out this raging sexual tension. A trickle of liquid seeped out of the lines of her mouth, her soft fingers grazing her glossed-up lips to cover her mess. He wanted to kiss her again and wondered if she would let him.

As he was about to make his move on the woman; something caught her attention.

"Are you not you going to introduce us, Maya?" perked the brunette whose hair was moulded in a messy black pixie cut that reached just above her neck.

"You know who he is already, Blaze"

She did know but wanted a formal introduction.

Her hands were now using the inside bicep from the guy at her store as her support as she began the introductions, "Blaze and Samuel, this is Ebén. I ran into him at Marks and he's been following me ever since" Her eyes had a devious glare to it, making her shade of hazel green look bolder.

"You exaggerate, Maya"

She shook her head firmly looking all too proud, "Nah. I don't think I am"

Samuel lunged in, extending his hand for Ebén to shake, and Maya and Blaze both watched as to whether he would or not.

"Happy birthday. Thank you for inviting us"

Us? Ebén thought to himself; he didn't remember extending an invite to him but assumed that Maya's presence was dependent on him coming. He took a sip of his drink, clasping Samuel's pliable hands that could not deal with his rough squeeze.

"You're welcome" said Ebén, their hands dispersing.

He stepped forward, levelling her with a look, a request. She tore, disconnecting from his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want"

Her airy voice was deep-toned and full of threat as she whispered in his ear, making sure nobody but them caught the end, "I'm not doing this here"

"You scared someone will see?"

She gave his thump which knocked him back — the kind of thump that is meant to say a thousand words.

Her tongue slid out and salivated her full, glossy lips; catching his eyes and leaving them tortured. The you-don't-say-no-to-Ebén-Cástro look was donned on the face of the pixie-cut brunette. Maya's lips brushed against Samuel's lips, as he whispered inaudibly in her ear.

Her lips let out a clipped giggle — the kind of laugh meant to rub salt in wounds, not nurse them.

Gingerly, she took two steps as a loose mahogany brown curl fell away and hung just above her feathery eyelash, her head dipped low to adjust the slit in her dress. She rolled her rotund lips back with her teeth, gripping the tail of his blazer.

The mood had gotten legato, which suited Ebén and had the opportunity to try and break down the walls of the stubborn woman with slow dancing.

you're my baby
my lover, my lady
all night you make me
want you, it drives me crazy
i feel like you were made just for me,

"So, you changed your mind then?"

Her hands didn't venture to his neck, she made sure to place her hands in the most platonic region with a neutral expression written over her entire face.

She said quietly, "Maybe"

Ebén found her difficult, he had never met a woman like her, who met him with stumbling blocks and opposed his every attempt to claw through her emotional walls. Her soft doe eyes somehow seemed stuck on Samuel, and his lips.

He wanted to tell her that, if she rather, he was not opposed to Samuel and him swapping places if it would put her at ease.

But, instead — he was in the mood to act selfish.

"I hope I'm not that boring?" He managed to huff out, hooking his desperate fingers on her wide waist and sinking his head on her glossy shoulder as they performed a turn.

She masked her contempt with a tactful smile that lasted longer than five seconds but it didn't stops eyes from fluttering at the woman unmoved by the advances of the birthday boy.

Her hands then cradled his neck, her acrylics unintentionally rubbing the back of his neck softly, "I wouldn't do that if I was you. We don't want to make your boyfriend jealous" He shirked away from the neutral expression of her golden-green eyes, as his hands pressed against the skin of her back.

"Yet that didn't stop you from asking me to dance with you?" A soft hiss grazed his ear, with her feathery brows knitted with irascibility.

"The perks of it being my birthday" He clucked.

She smiled at him deviously, tightening her grip in her hands laying flat on her neck.

"Was that a smile I just saw creeping in?"

She bit slowly, feigning a forced smile as her lips drew closer, "You're relentless"

"You say it like it's a bad thing?"

"We both have different tastes — "

Ezra staggered towards them, a glass bottle of Patron tattooed in her palm. The stench from her mildewed breath was more unbearable than before.

"Fwho iz she?" she hollered incoherently. Maya stepped back, her grin had gone back to her usual, pursued expression. "Ezra, go home" He sighed, rubbing his temples as bursts of camera flashes were already setting off. "I fff-asked yew ah quezion?" she drooled, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Uh — I'm going to go grab a drink and leave you and your girl to sort out your domestics" she gulped, glancing sideways at Ezra who was at the tipping point of completely combusting; but it was too late.

Ezra had hurled the contents of her irritable stomach over Maya and Ebén as contempt ballooned inside that figure of hers.

"Great! Happy fucking birthday" she bleated, as her heels crackled against the polished marble floor.

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A/N: In the humble words of Raven-Symoné...