ToyBoy

TOYBOY

In the exotic haze of a bustling Moroccan restaurant, a poised and elegant older woman sweeps in, her arm linked with that of a dashing, much younger man – her arm candy for the evening.

But the air thickens with temptation as three lithe, seductive belly dancers take the stage, their alluring rhythms and shimmering veils ensnaring the young man’s undivided attention.

Seething with betrayal, the woman snaps: she flings a plush cushion square in his smitten face, the impact echoing like a slap to his wandering loyalties.

As she pivots to exit in a whirlwind of silk and scorn, her eyes lock onto a silver-haired stranger at a corner table – solitary, enigmatic, drawing languidly on his hookah. A sly, inviting smile curves her lips; after all, why settle for a toy when you can play with fire?