All She Wants To Do Is Dance (Kallisti)

[Elyse]

Lucky Seven. Kaylee smiled as she realized he was teasing just as much. The scent of lust was in the air, but by focusing, she could single out Seven’s scent - amusement, attraction, and sincerity mostly. Kaylee felt like she at least had an easy first client. He wasn’t touchy-feely or aloof. It made Seven easy to talk to. She felt very comfortable.

Kaylee also noticed the slight glance at her neckline. It didn’t even cause a blush. For once she felt at home in her own skin. She leaned in again, placing a finger underneath Seven’s chin, guiding his face up gently to meet her eyes.

”Thank you! I think they’re my best feature. One of many,”

She stood, her closeness, giving Seven a good view as she stood - a view she would soon playfully deprive him of. She moved behind him, her hand on his shoulders as she began to massage gently.

”Hands for instance - strong, yet gentle.”

She took this moment to give Mist a glance. Kaylee winked and mouthed the words “I’m good” silently. Mist had her own set coming up and her own clients to visit.

[Ryker]

Those cherry red lips parted into a smile that summoned Ryker’s attention like a moth to the flame, but it wasn’t makeup nor the plump mounds that he saw when he looked at her. It stirred the very word she uttered in his chest, images that were they known, the so-called strong arms along the wall would shoot him in the head and toss his ass in the dumpster. Or they would try.. Ryker’s knife was still folded in his pocket.

Instead, his attention slid from her smile down to the way her hands trailed his arms. They would find no tattoos, nothing at all but the curled webbing of wrinkled flesh beneath the sleeves. He wore no ring, no jewelry. Nothing was particularly identifiable about him at all but for the most obvious - a body once subjected to horrors of a fire survived. And Ryker was a survivor.

She did well to not curl those cherry lips into distaste when she found the weight of such scarring, and her pressure upon his flesh may as well have hooked barbs into the muscle beneath, tugging him forward. For indeed he sat up, letting her explore until he slid to the very edge of his seat, positioning himself to invite her to seek further still. He was going to tip her very well if things continued as they had.

“Saint Basil — one and the same.” He replied with all the conviction of heated roleplaying between lovers. His eyes, one clear and blue, the other opaque as though partially blinded, roamed her body. He didn’t touch her, though he did stroke the feather boa wrapping her neck until it twined around his hand like a rope.

“You know the penance for lust?” A tug and the boa slipped free of her neck, and with it, he demonstrated wrapping it around his own wrists to signal what he wanted her to do. Afterward, let it fall from his grasp and pat his knee as if truly expecting her to lay across his lap to take her due.

And then, he sank into the seat and a sinister smile touched his lips for the first time.

[Nox]

Juls sat on the man's lap. His scars added to his charm and she paid particular attention to them, never flinching or wondering. They were after all part of the man before her and spoke to things she didn't even want to know. Much like Raffe's -- the trauma to cause such massive scars were stories you only told those of strong constitutions. And Juls would never ask.

She faced him, not in the way he had implied in his banter but she did wrap her boa around his hands and wove in a little cold to go with it. She might have chosen fire, but could be a source of torment and Juls didn't want the man to fly off his rocker. Candy was already walking away from her last client. His tips must not be worth the attitude some men had coming in here. Too bad for him. And Juls knew her own mark wanted her to tie her hands, but see that wouldn't work here. He'd either let her or not, and neither mattered.

"So, my darling are you the Great or the Blessed?" She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "The blessed was a crazed man, a fool for Christ they said. Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. For it is written, He taketh the wise in their own craftiness. First Corinthians 3:18 and 19." Juls leaned back with grin on her lips. "The Great was a philanthropist. And was said to bring gifts much like Santa Clause. Are you here to give all the good little children gifts?" Juls teased.

---

Mae took the hint. Elyse was fine and this Seven seemed soft enough for her first solo run. She did have a stage act to get ready for. Mist ran her finger along Seven's arm with a smile. "It's been a pleasure, sir, I leave you in Kaylee's capable hands, perhaps I'll see you again another night.". She said taking her leave.

She passed by Nox standing near one of the employee only doors. He's gaze was on the room and Mae ran her fingers along the top edge of the band covering the connection to his faux arm. He didn't look down, but gave her a small smile. He was fighting whatever darkness was inside and she had to block him out even more now that's she'd touched his skin. Touch was a powerful thing for her, and he never winched after having found out what she was.

Mae pulled herself away and into the back to ready herself for her show.

[Ryker]

In most circumstances, Ryker didn’t welcome corrections. But damn, even the girl’s lips on his earlobe wasn’t enough to cushion the glare he shot her afterward, and a shiver shot down his skin when they brushed away. 

“You had to ruin the game? Come on. do I look like I give two shits about the difference between a couple of motherfucking saints?” 

Since the ruse was broken by interjecting actual history lessons into their foreplay, Ryker fixed her with a look that said he expected her to make it up to him. That was her job, after all. To entertain him, and Ryker would continue spilling the dollars until he grew bored.

[Seven]

Suddenly, Elyse’s abdomen filled his world, and from that position he looked up to find the golden eyes that enraptured him so strongly before and grinned. He murmured an audible agreement with her confidence, and wondered just how far she would take their interlude before backing off. As far as he was concerned, he was a willing participant to whatever she wanted.

He twisted to watch her round behind until she disappeared from view and pressure squeezed his shoulders instead. His hair was down tonight, long around his ears and brushing her hands as she rubbed his upper back. He couldn’t help but relax his head back, almost as if hoping she would cradle his skull and continue the massage up along his scalp. It made his eyes sink low.

“If your first career was as a masseuse, I will absolutely believe you. Gods that’s great.” He was wholly under her spell until a fresh idea flickered his imagination. ”If you need me to get these clothes out of your way, you say the word.”

[Alistair Bishop]

Alistair didn't say a word. He heard Candy speak, nodded, and turned away. She hadn't realized she solved a problem. The issue was Alistair's reluctance to be there; the social interaction didn't align with his desires. Had she possessed dark hair, sultry, adding a complex intrigue, he might have made sure she couldn't escape.

The location and vibe weren't the right fit for him at that moment. It was late, he had nearly been knocked out earlier, and now he was in a place where his mind wasn't prepared to engage. This was Alistair, complex in his own right.

Sometimes, the hunt was a long game. For instance, Nadya noticed Alistair's interest in the waitress, an edgy, dark-haired girl who seemed to him intriguing. Nadya had whispered to Alistair about her plot; she had slipped a note into a lavish tip. The message read: "Call me later – he wants you. Let's play. N~555-555-4003." 

After a long wait, Mr. P's contact, Artem, arrived. His late appearance was a subtle power play, a statement of authority. Artem, clad in a dark suit and gray button-up shirt, was alone. Their brief chat was purposeful. Artem informed Alistair that his role was crucial in their struggle against rival groups. They needed a larger-than-life figure as the face of their combat sports, gambling, and entertainment enterprise. Alistair's role would extend beyond being a figurehead; he would broker deals to maintain their dominance. Not involved directly but created the environment for the influence and deals to take place. Details would unfold over time, but the essence was clear: Alistair's leading man persona was vital. The family had recognized his potential and intended to showcase him to the world, starting with high-society galas and elite parties.

Intrigued, Alistair saw this as an opportunity. His ambition to rise to the top in America seemed more attainable now than it had in a society in decline in the States. The family had identified a power in him, one he hadn't recognized himself. They planned to invest in him, generate buzz, and provide the necessary tools for his ascent to stardom. It would require time, social networking, and strategic alliances, but he had been given a rare opportunity to rise to the top.

Agreeing to the proposition, Alistair was unaware of the darker aspects of the games he would need to play, the parts of himself he would need to sacrifice. Artem, ready to leave, had started to make his way to the red hallway, passing by women immersed in their provocative sexual advances and the men being led to slaughter. Before exiting, he paused, turned, and instructed Nadya, "Ensure Alistair is at the Radiance in a few nights for a music launch party. I'll send the details but you know who it is. We need him to meet some key individuals." With that, he left, marking the start of a new chapter in Alistair's life.

[Nox]

Juls laughed. "You don't look like a saint either, милый." She made it up to him for offending him. "You have the look of a hellion about you." She ran her fingers down the edge of one his scars. "And not because of these lovely scars. It's the look in your eyes, forgive my phrasing, that fire that says you are trouble." She moved around him running her fingers across his skin and arms until she was behind him again and whispering in his ears. "I like trouble."

Juls let her alter ego Pyro Moon dazzle the money man with fewer words and more touching.

[[ooc not sure where you wanna go with this, feel free to mod Juls as necessary ]]

[Elyse]

Kaylee laughed.

Holy shit! I’m actually good at this! she thought.

She leaned down, her lips coming next to his ear as if to whisper a secret.

”No, no,” she said. ”You have to keep your clothes on.” she emphasized the word “you”. Of course, Kallisti wasn’t a nude bar. She had revealed as much skin as she could. Still he could imagine.

”Still, she said, straightening up and continuing to rub his neck and shoulders. ”You’ve been good. No touching or breaking rules. Perhaps good enough for a reward.”

She moved in front of him again and gently placed herself in his lap. She took his hand with hers and placed it around her waist. She met eyes with a few bouncers including Nox and gave a slight nod. Permission was given and he could touch her there.

”Nice and comfortable,” she said, eyes twinkling. ”Now tell me a little about Seven. What brings you out to Kallisti. A little bit of luck that you came here on my first night.”

[Seven]

Seven easily adjusted to accommodate Elyse’s weight on his lap. He could sense her muscular frame as a sort of power that she held back. Her restraint felt almost as if she might be capable of hurting him, and he found the raw energy within her fascinating. It was her eyes that he deeply stared into. His own were a light blue, a favorite color of his, soothing and endless.

“This is your first night?” He guffaw’d in disbelief. ”If that is so, then hand me that drink and take one for yourself.” He pointed to the drinks on the table, a sly smile promising something fun, but didn't want her to leave the comfortable, intimate seat.

Once they both had their shots of vodka, he began to sing a snapsvisa, a short drinking song. It was upbeat and his voice was bubbly and melodic. Even as his accented tongue rolled over the Swedish words, there was no need to translate. As soon as it rolled to a cute end, he raised the glass to clink against hers and down it in one jolly swallow. It ended with a grand finale.

“Helan går

Sjung hopp faderallan lallan lej

Helan går

Sjung hopp faderallan lej

Och den som inte helan tar
Han heller inte halvan får

Helan går”


They drank.


“Sjung hopp faderallan lej”

[Elyse]

Elyse laughed and joined in on his song. Sweden and Denmark had a similar language and most of the differences amounted to pronunciation. She had heard the melody. It was one sung often by Swedish fishermen at the local taverns in Helsingor.

”Skål!” she raised her glass and took her shot.

She smiled at him. ”I do not lie! This is my first night. And you’re my first customer!” she made sure her eyes met his. ”As I said…lucky”

Another girl caught here attention. ”and with that I’m afraid i must go back on stage. We have our big dance coming up.” she leaned in a planted a light kiss on his cheek and took his hand. ”They say you never forget your first.”

She gave him a smile, her fingers lingering on his as she slid away to head backstage.