Hot and Heavy in Havana || Kazutora Hanemiya

Hot and Heavy in Havana

Sheer crimson chiffon billowed gracefully outward as you crossed the floor. The colors, a burning fire of red igniting you most unusual paleness, heightening the intense deepness of your thick lash framed eyes and the enticing blush of your full lips. It was an understatement that all eyes in the room were on you, as it seemed you mysteriously bold and distinctive contrast to any other in the vicinity of the club held the captivated curiosity of men and women alike.

Perhaps this was your plan, or perhaps you were unaware that your striking presence was causing such a strong reaction. Whatever knowledge on the matter you held, it seemed you did not even let it flicker across your mind as you move with such poignance and grace toward you chosen destination. It was almost as if the scorching gaze of over one hundred people merely slid unnoticed along with the fluttering material of your exquisite gown as you closed in on the carved wooden bar, stocked with all kinds of alcohol from every corner of the globe, in every variation imaginable.

Bodies parted in an instant to allow you access, to which you only just acknowledged. Hungry eyes wandered all over you, marvelling at how the skin hugging material clung tightly to your every curve, outlining the physic that resided beneath it and how all of your more desirable assets were perfectly amplified by the cut of the dress. Stirs of attraction on the expressions and actions of men were evident, as were the examination and the slight hint of insecurity by the women who subconsciously gripped tightly to the male they were by the side of. They commented to one another in hushed voices their suspicions about this sultry woman's intentions but would not dare to confront you.

Instead they watched the scene unfold, curiously.

With a swift glance around the many variations of glass bottles full of liquor, you made your decision. The bartender watched your every move as if he was fixated to the spot. His palms secretly began to moisten as your sharp gaze fell on him and beckoned him over with an almost, 'come hither' gaze. His heart stuttered and he felt both his pulse quicken in intense excitement and complete intimidation as he moved towards the front of the wooden bar top. He stopped as close to the divide as possible, far enough away to avoid you, noting his quickening state of perspiring and close enough for the sting of sweet perfume emanating from you to overcome his sense of smell. It was a scent that cut through the heavy and humid air like a dagger, assaulting him in the best way possible as he imagined the vapour dampening the bare skin of your slender neck and pronounced collar bones.

"Ron Santiago." Was all you said, but those words were caressed by a silky voice that almost had the ones closest to you shudder collectively from the very base of their spines. Your accent was indistinguishable but leaned heavily towards a soft twang of American, pinpointed most probably towards the east coast. One could not tell though if you were native or of you reigned from elsewhere.

It was clear you were not from Havana, that fact was glaring.

Your skin was not accustomed to the blistering sun and humid nights. It glowed noticeably between the mixture of sallow and darker tones that surrounded you, suggesting that you had not been residing in the city long. Yet you seemed to not be affected by the burning air that coiled around them as most foreigners would be. You sat comfortably in it, your stance relaxed and your temperature seeming regulated, both unusual yet intriguing.

The bartender obeyed your request as fast as it left your plump lips. His trained fingers trailed along the well-known placement of each bottle. The one he retrieved replicated the shape of a diamond with the alcohol colouring it a dark shade of brown. It was indeed as expensive as it looked. He carefully removed the glass cap and set it aside and in the same fluid motion he picked up a small round glass. Two ice cubes clinked together as they entered and again as the glass was sat before you. Your lashes flickered down with your gaze to the glass before fluttering back up, watching intently as the alcohol was measured and poured into your awaiting vessel. It filled the bottom of and caused the ice to bob satisfyingly in its wake. Once done, the young bartender stood back, his breath baited as he awaited your opinion of what he had provided you as if he had created the liquor with his own hand and was in front of a judge that could as easily cast him aside as you could congratulate him. Gently your hand curled around the cold glass, condensation dripping as the warm came into contact with the cool. You lifted it to your mouth and parted your rose shaded lips, making eye contact with the young man one last time before tipping your head back, letting the rum trickle down your throat and your hair fall down your back.