Concert Black Attire Male Mga Nobela at Kwento

The background music was a quiet sound to assuage the void while, in their own circles, people held private conversations. "I'm shaking with nerves," Drake commented, and then took his last sip of juice, wishing he could drink alcohol to calm himself down. He was wearing a formal tuxedo with a bow tie, just like all the other models. - "It's going to be all right" Jean assured with an affectionate smile. - "When does she arrive? It's a parade, not a wedding!"

Or am I just overthinking it? The moment I opened the door, I was surprised by something that made me feel the total opposite of what I expected earlier. I honestly felt excited and wondered about their sudden reappearance. "Max and Hugo? Conan and Flynn? What are you guys doing here?" My eyes sparkled when I saw them. They still looked dashing. Is this a reunion? Conan wore a black tuxedo with two unbuttoned buttons white polo, black slacks, and black leather oxford shoes that completed the look of the latest businessman especially when he got an undercut. His face was now more emphasized than before and I bet that Malia will love it.

A stand-up bass hums beneath the low trumpet, the kind of music that sinks into your ribs. I picked it because I knew he wouldn’t stumble into it by accident. And because the anonymity feels like armor. Marcus spots me as soon as he comes in. He doesn’t just see me, he locks on, like I’m the only thing in the room. He’s in a dark sweater that makes his eyes glow like polished amber, and a pair of jeans that should be reprimanded for hugging him that way in public. The low light catches at his jaw, showing me the faint stubble that makes him look less like a businessman and more like a male model whose been told to smolder.

A black curtain, which had been in front of our noses the whole time and which I thought was just decoration, lifted to reveal some gods, or rather, I mean, some imposing men. The background music starts to play, but it's not just any music; it's "Man Areas" by Jonny McGovern. Six men begin to move sensually to the rhythm of the music. One of them is dressed as a cop, with the buttons of his shirt undone; another as a cowboy, with only a hat and pointed boots; another as a plumber, also shirtless; another as an executive, beautifully sexy; another as a doctor, all beautiful; and the last one is wearing only black latex pants and a whip in his hand, swinging it to the rhythm of the others.