I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

10. birthday drunk.

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.