|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 24, 2007 0:00:20 GMT -5
Pulling up infront of Starbucks with a roar was a dark blue Mustang GT 500 under the control of eighteen year old senior Kyle Masters. By now, everyone would know his name since he /was/ the most popular guy at Maui Paradise. I mean, why wouldn't he be? He had the face and the body of a god, a fuckin' hot girlfriend, a flash car and he's in the football team. All that meant popularity.
He killed the engine and grabbed his keys, getting out of his vehicle. He had a pair of Calvin Klein dark wash jeans and a white and grey button up shirt that hung loosely against his muscular torso. It was a simple look, finished off by a pair of black and red etnie sneakers and a pair of aviators pulled over those stormy grey optics that he used to his upmost advantage.
Putting his hand in his pocket to make sure he had remembered his wallet, he pushed his way into the Starbucks, not bothering to keep it open for an average looking /sophomore/. No way do seniors help sophomores out. It just wasn't /natural/.
He crossed the floor over to the cashier, leaning an arm on the bench top and surveying the items for sale. A freshman was the lady that was serving him and obviously she knew who he was because she was practically drooling over him. He ignored her, she wasn't worth anything to him, "Yeah.. I'll just have a Mocha with a hazelnut shot." He ordered and slid his American Express gold card across the marble top, casually scanning the area for anyone he knew while he waited. No one. How pathetic.
Taking his drink and his card, he dismissed the girl and strolled over to the corner and took a seat in the comfortable booth, placing his hot drink down infront of him and leaned back, placing a muscular arm up on the back of the seat. He was glad to be by himself for a bit, but if he spied something he liked, he'd invite any attention he received. Sure, Daylin was his girlfriend, but that had never stopped him before. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 24, 2007 0:54:08 GMT -5
Once again, Mia found herself in the waiting room of Starbucks. She seemed to be continually adjusting her makeup, no matter the situation. Her Se7en for all Mankind skinny jean-clad legs (that seemed to go on forever due to her height of 5'9") were placed slightly apart for balance as her barely-there thighs pressed into the counter in a desperate attempt to get closer to the mirror as she meticulously re-applied her lipstick. The nude-coloured hue contained actual snake venom, though solely for the purpose of further plumping up those to-die-for lips of hers. She tilted her head to the side slightly, not sure if she was satisfied. Her kohl-rimmed eyes seemed intact, as was the smoky effect caused by shades of eyeshadow from black to light grey expertly applied around them. Adjusting the extremely fitted black Chanel strapless that snugly hugged her bust, she took one last glance in the mirror, assuring herself that her mascara was still volume-enhancing, before turning on her black Steve Madden ballet flats and exiting the facilities.
Her black Fendi spy bag on her arm, she approached the head of the establishment. After a lengthy deliberation, she finally decided on a coffee. "Un latte della vaniglia di grande per favore," she ordered, adding in after thought, "oh, that's right. You people just pretend to speak Italian. I suppose my order would translate to a medium vanilla latte." So she had a bit of a catty side, but it really wasn't her fault... she got defensive of her home country. And could you really blame her? Being all alone in a new land and all? She promply paid for said beverage with a 20 bill, carelessly dropping the change into her purse and anxiously reaching for her drink. At this point, Mia could really use some caffeine in her bloodstream. Now came the supposed menial task of locating a comfortable spot to sit. But it was far from trivial, because where she chose to sit would determine her entire Starbucks experience. She strayed away from the front of the shop, her intense blue eyes searching for the perfect spot. It wasn't like she could locate someone she knew, because she knew absolutely nobo-
It was right about then that she saw Kyle Masters. Ooo, this venture could get interesting. She casually sauntered over to him, taking a seat at the booth opposite her attractive classmate. "Buon giorno," she greeted, no smile necessary. Surely, it required more than effortless good looks to coax a smile from this European beauty.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 24, 2007 1:05:55 GMT -5
He had entertained himself by watching the cars speed past on the road, slowly slipping the chocolatey drink. He was actually glad to get away from Daylin for a bit, he always felt suffocated by girlfriends, like he couldn't do anything.
His train of thought was interrupted by a familiar exotic greeting, causing his sunglass-covered eyes to turn the way of the Italian beauty. One look at her could hold him captivated. For atleast a few seconds. No one could really make him fall at their knees in astonishment.
He kept his cool, letting his trade mark half-grin cross his features, "Hey, Mia." He replied simply, hardly able to help himself from thinking back to the times they had spent together. Most of them quite raunchy, hardly any of them involved civilised conversation. He removed his aviators, letting his unbelievable heart-melting orbs rest on hers, "You're alone?" He questioned, glancing around to see if any of her friends were around. It was strange, not finding her with the usual tag along friends. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 24, 2007 1:21:24 GMT -5
Miuccia maintained the tight-arsed posture her mother'd instilled upon her at a very young age. When did she ever slouch? Never. She could never bring herself to fall victim to those lazy American ways. And so she sat up straight, classily sipping her vanilla latte. It was too bloody sweet, as always. These ingrates could never get anything right. Her eyes remained fixed on those of Kyle's the entire time, not bothering to drop her gaze as it gave off an aire of inferiority. And to hell if she'd give him that satisfaction. Maybe it was just because she wasn't from the States, but sometimes it seemed that Mia was the only one that didn't buy into Kyle's bullshit. She used him just as he used her - purely for animalistic lust, seeking any warm body to fulfill her needs. He just so happened to be a right attractive one. She was fully aware of his status as well - taken by the queen of bitch, Daylin. Sure, the girl was pretty, but only due to her daddy's money and a scalpel. Mia would never sacrifice her natural beauty in the O.R. Never. Though she may the only one on this entire island who didn't seek some sort of change in her body. In fact, she was entirely happy with her appearance. She didn't look average, but she'd been raised to appreciate abnormal beauty. Essentially, every model in the industry is a freak of nature. Turns out society worships the odd-looking ones. Go figure. Luckily, she had model-like qualities: her height, her weight, her dimensions, her proportions, her unique facial features, and her attitude. Not to mention her knowledge of the industry.
Her gaze grew more intense at his simple question. 'You're alone?' He seemed taken aback that she wasn't being tailed by a clan of American girls who really only associated with her because of where she was from and who her grandmother was. "Yes, I'm alone. Is it really so shocking, Mr. Masters?" Her English was surprisingly coherent, though her tone was cold and her accent was so thick it made her difficult to understand anyways. It was a burden, really, her less-than-perfect English. But as long as she could get her point across, she was satisfied. The rest of the world would just have to deal with it. Most seem to find the accent 'sexy' or 'exotic' anyways. Silly Americans.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 25, 2007 3:54:57 GMT -5
H er reaction was trademark Mia, even if it took him a few moments to really comprehend the message. Her accent was a little incoherent for him, but he soon got it, responding in turn, "Well, a little, but it's better than having a bunch of chatty girls hanging 'round, trying to listen to them all at once." He admitted, sitting up a bit and placing his mug on the table. It was more like code for 'It's better having the attention all on me'.
Placing his Aviators in his pocket, he returned his focus to her, "So why are you here, Mia?" He questioned. Straight to business. She didn't usually just come up to him to say a friendly hello, she had to want something. Another night? It wouldn't surprise him. He wouldn't mind, himself. She just had to ask.
[Grr, no muse. xD] |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 25, 2007 4:15:01 GMT -5
Mia nodded along to his little banter, almost as if she bought into it. "Right... and with fewer distractions, I can focus on you and you alone," she recited, attempting to lift her accent, though hopelessly. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't seem to shake it. So she spoke more slowly and tried to annunciate to make up for the thick vernacular. Not that it really worked. She could read it in people's faces as they gazed up at the tall, slender beauty with a blank expression. It was the "I have no bloody clue what you just said. But I'll BS it and hope for the best" look. She hated that look with a passion. Oh, how ignorant English-speakers could be. The corners of her lips twitched, almost granting a smile. But not quite. It was cute, really, how straight-to-business he was. Kyle had always been like that, though. He always took control. It turned her on, that's for sure. "I'm here for a $5 cup of coffee. Running in to you was purely coincidence. You can't honestly believe I'd come here solely upon chance that I might run into the likes of you, Kyle," she spat out, though with more class than expected for such a venomous statement. So the modella had an attitude. Surely, he knew that by now. She was still a good fuck though, no? Exactly. And he'd be lucky to have another go at her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 25, 2007 23:48:45 GMT -5
Hah. Bingo. She got it first time. Maybe she knew more about him than he thought and that she was letting on. He wasn't /that/ easy to read, was he? /Huge/ understatement. His eyes and facial features showed nearly every emotion he felt. He very rarely became successful at hiding them.
That time, her accent was a /bit/ better, but not by much. But he seemed to catch on quicker than most people would.
Her next statement caused a satisfied grin appear, his brows raising in a light mooded way, "Well, one can never be too sure. But, if that was the case, I wouldn't hold it against you, sweetheart." He replied, using the careful placement of a pet name. It might've been to lighten her mood or provoke more of that catty attitude he loved so much, or simply because he felt like it, "You just have to ask." He finished off, letting his sentence hang in mid air for her to consider. If she so pleased, he'd go right then and there. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 26, 2007 0:51:14 GMT -5
Mia resisted the so very strong urge to roll her eyes at this. He was truly a complete pompous arse, in every way possible. From the look on his face, to the words that left that picture-perfect mouth of his. Oh, those lips. She could almost feel them on her skin as she sat there, in broad daylight, in a public coffee house. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she rolled her slender shoulders forward in a casually careless shrug. "Don't hold your breath, dear," she told him, "the last time wasn't so great, I'm not so sure I'd like to go again." So she liked to jerk him around a bit, fuck with his mind (among other things...). But knowing Kyle, he'd go right then and there if it meant proving his manliness to the Italian modella. Mia sipped at her coffee, leaning back in her seat despite her usual prim and proper posture, all to further illustrate her care-free attitude regarding their little commitment-free relationship. It was nice for the most part, not having to answer to anyone, yet having that option whenever she so pleased. But Mia had plenty of guys she could turn to on those lonely nights, and this one came with a string attached, and that string was called Daylin. Not that she cared if she upset Barbie, but it was just added drama she honestly didn't need.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 26, 2007 1:18:15 GMT -5
Her reply was quite harsh, to say the least. Memories of their 'last time' didn't really back up what she said. But anyway, he acted as if he were shocked, mouth parted slightly. His jaw quickly tightened, a challenging look crossing his expression, "Oh yeah?" He remarked, leaning forward across the table, his eyes boring into hers, "That sounds like a /challenge/" He muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
Okay, so what she'd said had triggered something inside him. It must've been his ego, because he had the sudden urge to prove that he /was/ good, even though he knew what she was doing. It was simply a male thing.
Sure, he may have just said that because what she said had sounded like a challenge to him, but truthfully, he'd go again anyday. She was simply stunning. Everything from her amazing naturally bronzed skin and those full, pouty lips to that rich, italian accent had him reeling. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 26, 2007 1:36:36 GMT -5
He'd reacted exactly as she'd known he would. Honestly, men were incredibly simple-minded and she could read them as well as she could read Vogue. Maybe it was just the fight in her, but she felt a compelling urge to test his limits. Setting the paper cup on the table's surface, she rested her forearms on the table, kneeling on the chair with her long, tanned legs bent beneath her, her ballet flats in the air. Mia leaned across the table, covering the space between them with ease. With her face just centimeters from his, she narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. Her immaculately glossed lips parted, "Bring it," she stated with little emotion in her tone. Cold? Heartless? European. She was anxious to know whether he'd react as she thought he would. Because he'd either have a go right then and there, in Starbucks and all, or he'd back off and accept the fact that she was the dominant figure in this little charade they had going on. Knowing Kyle, it wouldn't be the latter.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 26, 2007 1:49:09 GMT -5
Ooohhh, she had nerve. To go that step further and actually attempt to forward the challenge? Oh, it was on alright, there was no getting away this time.
He watched as she leant over the table, all the while remaining leant forward himself in a casual manner, and merely stared her square in the eye.
'Bring It'
Two words that rang in his ears. Parting his own lips as if to say something, He immediately closed the distance between them, unable to hold back anymore. he kissed her with all that bottled up passion he held for her everytime they met again like this. Sure, it was purely lust, a physical thing, but that didn't mean he had no passion in the process. So, all in all, the kiss was rather hot and heavy, probably giving the customers something to look at then any of the more /average/ people that milled about in the coffee shop. It was win-win. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 26, 2007 2:29:08 GMT -5
Mia couldn't be happier that he'd chosen the first option. She shifted her weight to one of her arms, using the other to reach forward and grab his shirt roughly, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Leave it to Mia to get carried away in public. But they're both beautiful people, so why not? It wasn't like Mr. Masters would mind the attention. In fact, he would revel in it, probably hoping one of his friends would see him in an intense lip-lock with a European model. Getting more and more into it as the seconds passed, Mia climbed up onto the table, all the while never breaking the passionate kiss. It wasn't like she was a slut or anything, she just... liked kissing boys. Yeah, okay, fine, Mia's a bit on the slutty side, but she does it in a classy way you would never believe is possible. Because what, exactly, is classy about climbing over a table in Starbucks? Everything, when you're Miuccia Bianchi.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kyle Masters on Jul 26, 2007 2:40:55 GMT -5
Now /that/ was more like it. Finally she had dropped the whole careless act and given him something to work with. It wasn't long until she had gripped the front of his shirt, causing the kiss to deepen into an almost lip bruising kiss.
He swiftly pushed his mug aside and lifted his arms to grip her waist, pulling her over the table and into his lap. He was expecting to be kicked out of the coffee shop soon enough, so he'd better get everything he wanted now. And she seemed to have the same idea.
By now she was practically straddling him, having the upperhand over Kyle. Not that he minded in the situation. His hands had come to rest on her thighs, focusing more on the mind blowing kiss that they were sharing. She had a gift, that Mia, and he couldn't help but /love/ her for it. Not literally, ofcourse. |
|
|
|
Post by Mia Bianchi on Jul 26, 2007 3:19:26 GMT -5
Lucky for them, Mia didn't knock over her coffee and avoided spilling the hot beverage all over the two. She allowed the gorgeous Jock to pull her into his lap, one of her legs on either side of his in a straddling position. By now, her body was so dangerously close to his, her tongue exploring his mouth just as much as his was exploring hers. It was 100% lust at this point, all for sake of animalistic satisfaction. Daylin didn't matter, Kyle obviously wanted this just as much as he had last time. She pressed her hips to his, one of her hands loosely gripping the front of his shirt as she'd kind of forgotten about it, and the other running up his neck to play with his thick, fluffy (thanks, Hilary) hair.
It was then that she felt a tap on her shoulder. Mia reluctantly broke the kiss, jerking her head around to come face-to-face with a burly looking guy who obviously didn't appreciate their "public display of affection". She delicately raised a brow. "Can I help you?" Mia asked, her voice cold. No one, and I mean NO ONE, interrupts her Kyle time. "Please take your disgusting display elsewhere before I'm forced to call the authorities," he warned before waddling away. Mia released a heavy sigh from between her pouty glossed lips as she turned back to Kyle. Rolling her head back, she shrugged and sat up straight so her vibrant blue eyes found his stormy ones. "Nice try, but I'm still not impressed," she told him in a serious tone. She released his shirt and raised her gracefully slender hand to his face, cupping his chin and running her thumb along his lips to wipe them free of any stray lip gloss. "Better luck next time, Masters," she said with a final nod before promptly getting up off his lap and picking up her Fendi bag, sliding it up her arm. Turning about, she walked to the door of the shoppe and outside, sliding on her sunglasses while searching out where ever she'd left her Ferrari in the car park.
|
|
