A/N: It does get a bit dirty towards the middle of the chapter, so if you're not comfortable with that, please skip it if you want.

I can't believe I'm here.

Max looks around the night club his best friend, Justin, has dragged him to. Justin is a natural party animal, and when he goes on the prowl for a good night, he insists his wingman be present.

He was on the dance floor now wearing a white suit and a golden mask to match the tie, grinding against his first catch of the night.

The club Max found himself in tonight was different than the others. With its masquerade theme, everywhere you looked there was a somewhat hidden face.
Justin stresses that it's an amazing place to pick up girls, because they never get to know who you are. Max doesn't think any girl is that slutty to fuck a guy without even seeing his face, but Justin thought otherwise.

Max sighs and takes another sip of his beer. As he watches Justin and the girl interact, he comes to the conclusion that they'd either be in a bathroom stall or her house in 5 or 15 minutes.

They prove his point when 10 minutes later, she drags Justin to the bathroom.

Classic.

Max sighs and takes a long swallow of his beer. Its always the same.  Justin forces him to some party or club, and he stands idly by until Justin's ready to leave. It used to be fun.

Max isn't ugly, far from it, actually. Women have always thrown themselves at him, and they still do. But after a while, it became a routine. The numerous amount of women he'd encountered, the many names and faces running together. None of them appealed to him anymore, they were all the same.

So instead of getting laid like most guys his age, he stood at the bar, handing out rejections as if he were dealing a deck of cards.

Even though he'd rather the women not try to pass on the diseases they carried to him, Justin refused to have him along unless he was  dressed to impress. So he wore an all black suit, black mask intact.

Max knows he's an attractive man, and he may come off as conceited sometimes. That being said, he tried his best to tell Justin that it was rude to go to a club dressed so impeccably.

"Why put out the buffet, if they can't eat?"  Is how he explained to Justin.

Justin simply shrugged and said "Daddy's going fishing and you can be my worm then. Help me reel in all the women, since you've chosen not to take part in the festivities. Thats what a wingman does anyway, dude."

Max can never manage to get out of these situations.

The color red flashes in his peripheral vision, and he glances over at the body it covers. He intends to give her a quick once over, just to have something to do. The usual process.  But, Max begins drinking in her body, slowly letting his eyes swallow the scarlet material that sticks to her in the most satisfying way. Something about her not only arouses his curiosity,  among other things, but he finds that even her presence in this large room brings him great comfort. As if she is where he belongs.

Dakota giggles as she and Rose engage in a conversation about one of the new interns in their office. She glances over her friend's shoulder as they chat and her eyes widen, surprised at not only who she's seeing, but at how eagerly his eyes are drinking in her friend.

Dakota has been friends with Rose for years,  not nearly as long as Rose and Max, but still long.  She's also one of the few people that knows of Rose's love for him. So when she spots him at the bar in a club she persuaded Rose to come to tonight, practically drooling she grows incredibly hyper.

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