Jackson pulled into the Brewed Awakening parking lot at 5:55 p.m. The sky above was a moody canvas of gray clouds. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, scanning the entrance for any sign of Sophia. No luck. Five minutes ticked by. Then ten. He checked his phone, debating whether to call her. Was she standing him up? The thought made his stomach churn. As he was about to hit the dial, movement caught his eye. A couple strolled down the sidewalk, arm in arm. The man looked oddly familiar, but Jackson couldn't quite place him. He squinted, trying to jog his memory. The stranger looked to be in his mid-thirties, possibly older. He squinted, trying to jog his memory. "Screw it," he muttered, pocketing his phone and stepping out of the car. His curiosity got the better of him as he approached the pair. The man's eyes widened as Jackson neared, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "Excuse me," he said uncertainly. "Are you... Jackson?" Jackson blinked, taken aback. "Uh,

As they finished their coffees, she leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. The movement caused her blouse to ride up, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin. His eyes followed the motion, and his mouth suddenly dried. "Well, that hit the spot," she said, oblivious to Jackson's wandering gaze. "Ready to head out?" He nodded, standing up perhaps a bit too quickly. "Lead the way." She smirked, noticing his eagerness. She slid out of the booth with feline grace, her hips swaying as she walked toward the exit. Jackson followed, his eyes fixed on the hypnotic movement of her backside. They stepped out of the cafe into the cloudy night. The air was thick with the promise of rain, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees lining the street. Sophia huddled closer to him, her warmth contrasting to the chilly breeze. "So," Jackson said, feigning nonchalance, "what shall we do now?" "Oh, I don't know. Got any ideas?" He could think of plenty of

The sleek black car glided through the night, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a knife. Victor sat in the back, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his phone as he scrolled through messages. The driver, a stoic man with a face like carved granite, fixed his eyes on the road ahead. Victor glanced out the window, watching the city lights fade away as they headed towards the outskirts. The sky above was a thick blanket of clouds, promising rain but holding back as if waiting for the perfect dramatic moment to unleash its fury. The car wound through increasingly desolate streets, passing abandoned warehouses and overgrown lots. Finally, it pulled up to a nondescript building, its gray facade blending into the cloudy night sky. A large shipping container was parked outside, looking out of place in the empty lot. As the car came to a stop, Victor spotted Tony standing next to the container. He exited the car, the gravel crunching under his expensive shoes. "Tony, my

Jackson shook his head. "Nah, not really. There have been a few... encounters, but nothing serious." "Encounters?" James leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Do tell, my friend." "Oh, you know, just... normal stuff. Nothing worth mentioning." Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Normal stuff, huh? Is that why you're blushing like a schoolgirl?" "I am not!" Jackson protested, feeling his face grow even hotter. The guys burst into laughter. "Oh man, some things never change," Charles said. "Remember when we teased him about his crush on Ms. Peterson in high school?" James nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yeah! He'd turn beet red whenever she called on him in class." "Guys, come on," Jackson groaned, smiling despite himself. It felt good to reminisce, even if he was the butt of the joke. As the laughter died down, Jackson seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing past. "So, what are you guys up to these days? Career-wise, I mean." Matthew straightened up,

Jackson's imagination went into overdrive. He shifted in bed, suddenly aware of how tight his silk pajamas had become. "Careful," he warned. "Keep talking like that, and I might have to come over there." Olivia's low, sultry laugh sent shivers down his spine. "Is that a promise?" "It could be," he rasped, desire-laden. "What would you do if I showed up at your door right now?" "Hmm... I might drag you inside by your shirt collar. Pin you against the wall. Kiss you until we're both breathless." His breath caught in his throat. Olivia's words painted a vivid picture in his mind, and he gripped the phone tighter. "After that?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. "Wouldn't you like to know?" "I think we've established that I very much would," Jackson replied. "I suppose I could be persuaded to share more... over dinner, perhaps?" "Dinner? Are you asking me out?" "Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?" He laughed, ru