Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All names of characters are fictional and were made up. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.
******************
Miami Beach, Florida
Glimmering dots sparked as they moved across the reflection cast across a mirror. A set of green eyes gazed back, glancing down at every detail of her silky black dress. The dots belonged to a set of diamond earrings that were visible beyond her locks of black hair. It had taken an hour to get ready like this in a new designer dress that fit all of her measurements and the right jewelry to stand out. Abigail Ratchford stood tall in a matching pair of black high-heeled pumps. She placed her hands on her hips as she gazed back at her reaction and curled her luscious lips into a grin. The dress featured shoulder straps that covered her tanned skin and a V cut to highlight her busty Double D breasts. This outfit was ideal for a photoshoot on her social media profiles, but not tonight. Abigail was already thinking about making use of it later.
Social media had been a useful tool for Abigail through the years. Now that she was in her thirties, she could say that a great deal of her fame had come from the internet. Once an aspiring glamour model, she had crossed boundaries as a social influencer and entrepreneur. She was dubbed the "Queen of Instagram" by some and the "Queen of Curves" by others, and she was proud of her body. She was heavily influenced by other glamour models, but at this point in her life, Abigail felt she had become an icon herself. Tonight was to be a special occasion, as she was dressed to impress. Her fans online would likely be more appreciative of the heavy cleavage her dress revealed. There would be at least one person tonight who appreciated the sight. In another room in her hotel suite was her friend Alejandro Diego Gutiérrez, or Alex, as he preferred to be called.
A well-groomed black beard and mustache covered his face, matching his short hair. His average body was hidden underneath an outfit consisting of a black suit without a tie. The jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the buttoned-up white shirt he had tucked into his slacks. Alex met Abigail over five years ago at a party similar to the one they were about to attend. Like her, he considered himself to be an entrepreneur but had yet to make his lucky break. He dropped out of college after a night of gambling won him over forty-two thousand dollars. It was the most money he had ever seen in his life. More than enough to pay off his student loans and consider switching to a different career. Whatever that career originally had been was now lost in time. Alex had squandered a good deal of the money, but not before investing it in multiple failed business ventures.
To Abigail, she saw those failures as part of 'get rich quick' schemes. Alex had a certain set of skills as a gambler that gave her the impression he was good with math. She could not judge him since she herself had hustled before with business-related stuff. They hooked up years ago at a party where they both shared drinks before a wild night in a hotel room. Abigail had fond memories of that night, but nothing had come of it in terms of a relationship. Alex was just one of the few men she kept in contact with when she traveled to Miami. He was good in the bedroom, so he was worthy of a hookup while she was single and had the chance to mess around. Alex never left Miami. He was a pure, homegrown man of the city, with ancestry from a Colombian family that had immigrated to the US over forty years ago. Abigail had never asked him about his past, but sometimes she was curious about his family.
The party was at a hotel nearby in Miami Beach. Abigail checked into one of the many Art Deco-themed hotels in South Beach. It was overpriced, but with luxury suites, she felt more comfortable dropping a few grand in Florida. She called Alex shortly after arriving in town to see what he was up to. His first question was if she was single again. Abigail knew he would be eager for a quick hookup, but she had doubts that it would lead to anything. So many times she had seen him, and they had shared dates and slept together, but it never went further than that. She was not ready to jump into another long-term relationship, so having a pitstop with Alex was something she was fine with. Attending the party was his idea. Abigail was amused that something else was distracting him from fucking her. Any other time, Alex could not wait to share a bottle of wine and start getting dirty with her.
Word of this party had spread privately from the V.I.P. rooms of nightclubs and other areas of the city, where only those who knew the right person would catch wind of it. Alex had heard it in passing from the Disco Fever club that the party was being arranged by Matthew McCarthy. The name carried weight for Alex since McCarthy was a big-time hustler across town. He was known for owning a yacht that he usually had his parties on. The man knew how to arrange high-stakes card games, or so Alex had heard. If it was the type of game where one had to pay in cash a few grand to even sit at the table, he wanted in. With no current debt, Alex considered the risks of finding himself in a hole. The thrill that came with gambling was the wonderful feeling of the win. There were few things in life that felt greater when all the chips were stacked on your side of the table.
Few things were comparable to that. His on-and-off again relationship with a famous model was among those things. Years ago, when Kate Upton was seemingly everywhere, he fantasized about bedding a glamour model. Revealing this secret to Abigail gave her something to tease him about. She may not have been at Kate's level of fame, but she made sure to remind him how long their fuck sessions went on. If Abigail had a type, Alex certainly checked off most boxes on the list for what she preferred in a man. He had a dirty mind like her and the stamina to go all night long. It beat the other men in her life who just wanted a quick thrill. Alex often told her, in the heat of the moment, how fuckable her body was. She made sure his cock was placed everywhere it could be to prove her curvaceous form was built to fulfill his desires. He was the right type of man for her in the bedroom, if only their relationships lasted longer than a few weeks.
Without her, he would not have a ticket to this party. McCarthy was another person who called himself an entrepreneur. Abigail had heard of him in passing since he had previously slid into her messages on a social media account and invited her to a yacht party. He was the type of man who offered money to influencers and models to attend his private events. His parties were extravagant, as Abigail could recall. He paid her a couple thousand dollars to show up and look pretty on his yacht three years ago. The one thing she remembered was the amount of cocaine at his party. McCarthy stood over a table as the coke was served in trays, as if delivering a speech. Once people started to treat themselves to the party favors, one man whistled and yelled out a line from the film Scarface. 'You got good stuff here! Class-A shit!'. This was followed by laughter, as Abigail could clearly remember it regardless of whether it happened three years ago or yesterday.
She had that experience with McCarthy to know more about him than Alex did. To her, he was just another rich guy in Miami who had money to spend and was down for hard partying. Alex seemed to think the man could open doors for him and lead to some big break. Yet another get rich quick scheme in the form of gambling, she quietly thought to herself. She did not have the heart to tell Alex that he was setting himself up for disappointment. In all the years she knew him, she did not believe he was the type of man to get involved with someone like McCarthy. Abigail still did not want to spoil his hopes. Maybe it would work out for Alex, and he could get an entry into a high-stakes poker game. At the bare minimum, she wanted to enjoy this date with him. Rarely did she get to attend a party like this with someone else. She was usually there as eye candy for men to take their chances at hooking up.
"Alex! I hope you're ready to go, I don't wanna be late."
Abigail called out in her high-pitched voice while still looking in the mirror. At least this dress would make a fine outfit for her social media pictures. She was not bringing her purse or cellphone tonight. Alex would have his phone and wallet if they were needed. When he finally stomped into the room, she watched his reflection move across the mirror's surface. The man stood in disbelief when he saw the dress hugging her curves.
"Wow, you look fantastic tonight."
Slowly turning around, she offered him a smile. His eyes glanced down from her face to her heavy cleavage for a moment.
"Don't I always?"
"Yeah, always with class."
She curled her lips into a grin before stepping away from the mirror. Abigail pressed her left hand against his chest as her emerald eyes gazed up at his face.
"Are you sure you really wanna go to this party? I mean... you could take this dress right off me and let that start a much more fun night."
