The night belongs to her. Warm light catches the curve of her shoulder, her gaze aimed straight at you — unhurried, certain of exactly what she's doing to you.

She doesn't need to try. There's something in the way she holds herself, loose and deliberate, that makes the air feel thicker. You forget what you were doing before you found this.

Buenas noches, she says, and somehow it sounds like an invitation and a dare at once. You're already wondering what comes after the greeting.