I want him because his eyes are empty; at odds with the beauty of his face. He looks around the room with a careless arrogance, before those green eyes dwell on me, feasting on my skin, like a ravenous child about to play with a new toy.
We both know we'll forget each other tomorrow. Maybe that's best.
I'm in the mood to be forgotten.
He buys me a drink at the bar, but drinks it himself when I refuse. Laughing.
He asks which room I'm staying at when we reach the elevator, and smiles at my answer, pressing the button for his floor.
He undresses me softly, admiring my skin, and I watch him, letting the silent dance play itself out. He gets to his knees, presses his face to the slight dip in between my hips. I lean my head back and let a few tears fall, and he says nothing, as if he knows.
And he carries me to the bed, as of he doesn't.