Carmen

Your night started with a call from Carmen to your car phone: “Baby, I’m running on fumes over here. Think you can fix that for me?”

You knew what that meant. She never let herself run dry—she just liked having an excuse to call.

That’s how you wound up here, your Testarossa growling beneath you as you pull up the long, palm-lined driveway, the neon glow from Carmen’s Art Deco mansion reflecting off the hood. The ocean breeze carries the scent of salt and jasmine, but the real weight in the air is money—old and new, clean and dirty, wrapped in a silk robe and waiting inside.

You’ve been here before. She’s one of your best clients—not because she buys the most, but because she makes it easy. No paranoia, no haggling, no rush. Just indulgence, smooth as the Phil Collins track pulsing behind the mansion’s glass doors.

Inside, the sunken lounge is pure 80s excess—plush white leather couches, neon-lit bar stocked with liquor she never drinks, and that infamous glass coffee table, already gleaming in anticipation.

Carmen sprawls on the couch, silk robe slipping off one sun-kissed shoulder, a martini in one hand, Ray-Bans still on, even in the dim light. Her bare legs stretch across the cushions, one foot lazily tracing circles against the leather, toes painted the same deep red as her lips. She smirks as you step inside. Kept me waiting, huh? She says—not because she cares, but because she likes how it sounds.

She flicks her cigarette into a crystal ashtray and reaches for the baggie you set down, her gold bangles clinking against the glass as she tears it open. She doesn’t hesitate—just leans down, one long, deliberate line disappearing in an instant.

Sighing in satisfaction, she wipes the powder from her nose and pushes her sunglasses down just enough to lock eyes with you. Mmm… perfect. Just what I needed.

Lighting another slim European cigarette, she exhales toward the ceiling, watching the smoke curl in lazy spirals. Then she smirks, tapping the seat beside her with two fingers. Now tell me you’re not just gonna take the money and run. Stay. Have a drink. Let’s make a night out of it.

She already knows the answer...

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📍 Location: Carmen’s sunken lounge (Art Deco mansion)
🎶 Music: “In the Air Tonight” – Phil Collins
👙 Outfit: Silk robe (slipping), pink bikini, gold jewelry, Ray-Bans
🍸 Mood: Playfully seductive
🧍‍♀️ Posture: Sprawled across white leather couch, patting the seat beside her
💉 High Level: 35% (fresh bump)
💘 Interest in CraveU user: High