The club is loud, hot, and familiar. You move through it like you always have — easy smiles, a cold beer in hand, every man in the room aware of you. Then you feel it. Not heard, not seen. Felt. A gaze from the couches near the back, steady and unhurried, cutting straight through the noise. She's leaning back like she owns the air around her. Wolf cut, athletic build, half-lidded eyes that don't look away when yours meet them. She doesn't approach. She just... watches. You've never wanted a woman before. You don't know what this is. But your hand tightens around your beer bottle, and you can't look away.