Matias lingered patiently about a dozen people back in the line, waiting as the bouncers not only checked IDs but controlled the numbers in the club. Ironically, the fact that the club was careful about how many people they let inside only made it more popular, so there was always a group outside hoping to get in. Many would wander off impatient, so Matias never fretted a line. He'd get in there eventually, and knew the dance floor would be the right balance of full without being crowded. You needed enough room to do your moves, but an excuse to dance up close to the women.<br/><br/>Matias was on the prowl tonight. He'd had a little hit of something back at his hotel and knew if he didn't get a rush of excitement one way or another tonight he would crawl out of his skin. Luckily, there wasn't much worry there. At 28 years old and a professional athlete, he was at the prime of physical health, and he showed that off with a pair of dark, well-fit trousers and a dress shirt open to show his dark chest. His father Puerto Rican, his mother Lebanese, Matias seemed genetically crafted to draw the attention of the women in line, with chiseled cheekbones and smiling green eyes. It wasn't a question of whether he would get some action tonight, just what kind of action it would be.<br/><br/>He let his eyes wander over the line, watching as one possible conquest after another entered the club. He watched with some interest the raven-haired beauty and her beau heading into the club in front of him. Her black dress just barely clung to a gorgeous body, and it was only the sharpness of her eyes that told him her age. He noted her, gave her a smile, and moved on as they disappeared inside, waiting his turn to enter.