Date: January 1996
Location: Mexican Gothic Rooftop Party, Los Angeles
Actress: Salma Hayek
Alexander's Status: Just wrapped *From Dusk Till Dawn* as uncredited executive producer; in deep talks to acquire Marvel through covert equity maneuvering
Actress's Status: Fresh off *From Dusk Till Dawn* breakout; still fighting Hollywood's tendency to cast her as "the exotic other"; burning to be taken seriously
**"The Dance at the Edge of Fire"**
The rooftop pulsed with old-world magic.
Strings of golden marigold lights draped from rusted beams. Cacti flickered with candlelight. Somewhere, a trumpet moaned over a vinyl record scratch, mixing mariachi and Miles Davis in a way that felt like tequila and prophecy. You could smell spice and smoke in the air — roasted peppers, cigars, ambition. It was the kind of night where time bent slightly, where the moon hovered too close, and where legends quietly stepped into frame.
Alexander Kaine leaned against a wrought-iron railing, white shirt open at the collar, no tie, midnight-gray suit that caught the gold light like smoke. His green eyes tracked the crowd like a hawk above a battlefield. Below the rooftop, Los Angeles shimmered — still unsure of who owned it.
Tonight, it felt like him.
A voice cut through the crowd, warm and edged like a blade dipped in honey.
"So. You're the man who owns the night."
Salma Hayek appeared like a flame. Her red silk dress clung like it had secrets. Her hair was pulled into a cascade of curls, lips painted the color of sin confessed too late. She didn't walk — she prowled. And yet, she smiled like she was already bored.
Alexander tilted his glass toward her. "Only on the nights that matter."
"You think this matters?"
"It will. You do."
She laughed — deep, unapologetic, real.
"Do you always speak in fortune cookie riddles?"
"Only when the woman in front of me already knows the answer."
She stepped closer, their shadows tangling in the candlelight.
"They said you funded the whole thing," she said softly. "_From Dusk Till Dawn_. That your money made it happen."
Alexander didn't nod. He didn't have to.
She leaned in. "Then thank you for making me a vampire goddess."
"You were already one," he murmured. "I just gave you a cathedral."
That silenced her, but only for a heartbeat.
Then she grinned. "Let's see if you dance as well as you talk."
He raised an eyebrow. "Challenge?"
"Invitation," she whispered, grabbing his hand.
The music shifted — not upbeat, not loud. A slow, dangerous bolero. The kind you don't dance to unless you're ready to surrender something.
She pressed close.
He allowed it.
Their bodies moved as one — not perfectly, not rehearsed, but inevitable. Her hips guided the rhythm, his hands answered with pressure just shy of possession. No one else on the rooftop mattered. The world narrowed to breath and heartbeat, to heat and skin.
"I'm not one of your projects," she said into his neck.
"I never mistake fire for fuel," he replied.
She pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes.
"You want me in something, don't you?"
"I want you in _everything_," he said, deadly quiet.
Silence.
Then she kissed him — not on the lips, but just below his jaw, right where his pulse beat. It wasn't affection. It was territory.
"You're dangerous," she said.
"So are you."
She smiled. "Then let's be dangerous together."
He nodded once, and they disappeared from the rooftop — through a wrought iron stairwell, down into the dark velvet corridors of the old building. Music followed them, distant now.
Behind them, the rooftop continued to glitter — but the heat had left with them.
As Salma leads Alexander down the dimly lit hallways, the peeling murals and flickering candlelight cast eerie, dancing shadows on the walls. The air is thick with anticipation, their footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. Salma pushes open a heavy wooden door, revealing a lounge area rich with old-world decay: red velvet settees, tiled floors, and wrought-iron sconces casting a warm, inviting glow.
Alexander locks the door behind them, the click echoing ominously in the small space. Salma turns to him, her eyes molten with desire, her breath already coming in short gasps. She doesn't waste time, her hands going to his collar, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Alexander responds, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her body flush against his.
Their kissing is intense, their tongues dueling, their breaths mingling. Salma's hands explore his body, her nails raking across his chest, making him hiss with pleasure. She pushes his jacket off his shoulders, her lips never leaving his as she unbuttons his shirt, her fingers deft and sure. Alexander's hands are just as busy, tracing the curve of her waist, the small of her back, the swell of her ass. He grips her thigh, his fingers brushing against the wet lace of her thong, making her moan into his mouth.
Salma breaks the kiss, her voice a low growl as she murmurs, "On your knees, Alexander."
He smirks, a challenge in his eyes, but he obliges, lowering himself to his knees before her. Salma looks down at him, her eyes dark with desire, her body trembling with anticipation. She turns around, presenting her back to him, her voice a soft command as she says, "Unzip me."
Alexander's hands tremble slightly as he reaches up, his fingers finding the zipper of her dress. He pulls it down slowly, the sound of the zipper filling the room, the dress slipping off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Salma steps out of it, turning to face him, her body on full display in a black lace bra and thong, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.
Alexander's eyes roam her body, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight of her. He leans in, his mouth capturing one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, his hands cupping her ass, pulling her against him. Salma moans, her hands fisting in his hair, her body arching into his touch.
He trails kisses down her stomach, his hands unhooking her bra, letting it fall to the floor. He looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a low growl as he says, "You're incredible, Salma."
She smirks, a challenge in her eyes as she says, "Show me, Alexander. Show me how much you want me."
He obliges, his mouth capturing hers in a fierce kiss as his hands explore her body, teasing, touching, but never quite giving her what she needs. Salma moans, her body pressing against his, her need evident. She pushes him back, her voice a soft command as she says, "Lie down."
Alexander lies back on the velvet settee, his body tense with anticipation, his eyes never leaving hers. Salma straddles him, her body lowering onto his, taking him inch by inch. She begins to move, her hips rolling, her body taking what it needs. Alexander's hands grip her hips, his body meeting hers thrust for thrust.
Salma leans down, her mouth capturing his in a fierce kiss, her body moving faster, her breath coming in short gasps. Alexander's hands explore her body, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with her movements. Salma moans, her body tensing, her orgasm building.
"That's it, Salma," Alexander growls. "Ride me. Take what you need."
Salma obeys, her body moving faster, her breaths coming in short gasps. Alexander feels her tightening around him, her body coiling, ready to snap. He rubs her clit faster, his body meeting hers thrust for thrust.
Salma throws her head back, a cry tearing from her throat as she finds her release, her body convulsing, her inner muscles clenching around him. Alexander grunts, his body tensing, his own orgasm ripping through him, his seed spilling into her.
They collapse together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Salma rests her head on Alexander's chest, listening to his heartbeat, her body sated, her mind blissfully empty. Alexander pulls her close, his body still joined with hers, their connection deeper than ever.
But Alexander is not done. He wants more. He rolls her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs. He enters her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Salma wraps her legs around him, urging him deeper, harder.
He begins to move, his hips thrusting against hers in a primal, ancient rhythm. Salma meets him stroke for stroke, her body matching his, their breath syncing, their hearts beating as one. The room fills with the sounds of their lovemaking, the slap of skin against skin, their moans and gasps, the wet, obscene sounds of their joining.
Alexander changes the angle, his body now fully on top of hers, his elbows on either side of her head, his hands in her hair. He looks down at her, his eyes intense, his body moving with purpose. "You feel so fucking good, Salma," he grunts, his voice strained with effort. "So tight, so wet."
Salma wraps her arms around him, her nails digging into his back as she urges him on. "Don't stop, Alexander," she whispers. "Please, don't stop."
He doesn't, his body slamming into hers, their sweat-misted skin sliding together. Salma can feel another orgasm building, her body coiling tight once more. Alexander feels it too, his body responding, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.
"Come with me, Salma," he grunts, his body tensing. "Let me feel you come around me."
Salma obeys, her body shattering once more, her inner muscles clenching around him. Alexander throws his head back, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he finds his own release, his body pulsing inside hers.
They collapse together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Alexander rolls off her, pulling her into his arms, their bodies still joined. Salma rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her body sated, her mind blissfully empty.
But Alexander is not done. He wants to explore every inch of her, to taste her, to make her scream his name. He rolls her onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her. He enters her from behind, his hands gripping her hips, his body slamming into hers.
Salma moans, her body arching, her pleasure building. Alexander reaches around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. He leans down, his mouth capturing her ear, his voice a low growl as he says, "I'm going to make you come so hard, Salma. So fucking hard."
Salma moans, her body tensing, her orgasm building. Alexander feels it, his body responding, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. He grunts, his body slamming into hers, his seed spilling into her, his orgasm ripping through him.
They collapse onto the settee, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Alexander pulls Salma into his arms, their bodies still joined, their connection deeper than ever. Salma rests her head on his chest, her body sated, her mind blissfully empty.
As they lie there, their bodies entwined, Salma murmurs, "I want something different, Alexander. Something serious. Something that will make them see me."
Alexander looks down at her, his eyes soft, his voice a promise as he says, "I have just the thing. A role where you can show your range, your depth. No accents, no corsets. Just raw, powerful acting."
Salma smiles, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispers, "Thank you, Alexander. For seeing me. For believing in me."
Alexander touches her face, memorizing every line, every curve, his voice a soft promise as he says, "You're going to be amazing, Salma. The world is going to see you for who you are. A force to be reckoned with."
Outside, the rooftop still pulses with life, the music a distant hum, the lights a flickering glow. But down here, in this velvet-shadowed loft, something irreversible has begun. A connection forged in passion, in mutual respect, in a shared understanding of what it means to be dangerous together.