Throw me in the water Don't think about the splash I will create
Shuckster
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Post by Violet Doe on Sept 11, 2015 14:17:35 GMT -5
dream came true
tell them this ain't new.
T hick black lines covered Violet’s eyelids, and her eyelashes were so long they almost looked unreal. When she batted them, she could feel them brush her cheekbones. Violet looked alluring, and she looked innocent, and she looked perfect. It was easy to lure the men in, and she was hoping to score big tonight. She’d spent a little too much on her friend Mary-Jane, and her funds were hurting because of it. If she found a rich client for tonight, she would be able to break even, and if she stole a little something off him, she may even come out ahead of the game. She put on a skirt that showed just enough skin to send the imagination flying, and her blouse brought all eyes to her cleavage. She didn’t have a lot, unfortunately, but she did the best she could with what she had. Sighing, Violet pulled the curlers from her hair and ran her fingers through them to separate and loosen them a little. Getting ready for the night was always Violet’s least favorite part of the night; she hated making herself up, only to know that the men would ruin it all. A peculiar sense of shame always settled upon her as she got ready, too. This wasn’t the life she was meant to live and yet there she was, covering herself with makeup and curling her head and working to make herself as appetizing as possible. With an extra pin in her hair and a deep breath, Violet walked out into the pit of snakes.
And full of snakes it was. Men lounged at the bar and on the couches, surrounded by pretty women. Some heads turned as she walked by but most of the men were already taken, and though their jobs weren’t always considered honorable, there was an honor code among the women at the brothel. She lounged at the bar, sipping a soda—that was another of Violet’s rules: no drinking while working. She wanted to be of sound mind, that way she could fight back if necessary—and scanning the crowds of men. She really needed the money, but it didn’t look like she would be getting it tonight.
Violet was going to call it a night, having sat around for nearly two hours, before she caught the eye on a man stepping through the door. He was with two other men, and he looked wealthy. A business deal, perhaps. Gold jewelry hung around his neck in a way that could have been tacky, but he pulled it off well. And, by the looks of it, it was real gold. Even better. Violet held his eyes, and she bit her lip in a seductive, come-hither way. A small smirk curved on her lips. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so awful after all. She disappeared into the bathroom for a minute to freshen up her lipstick—a startling red on her face; she always thought it made her look like a movie star—before heading back out. The man was seated at the bar. His friends sat with him, but he almost looked distracted, like he was looking for someone. Violet was pretty sure it was her.
She slid up next to him, eyes hooded and smirking, “Hello gentlemen,” Her voice was low, and she tacked the tiniest bit of an accent to the ends of her words. She discovered that men usually loved subtle accents, it made her seem more exotic. All three of the men had turned to stare at her, but Violet held only one’s eyes. She liked the mischievous smirk on his lips, like he had a secret. Those were Violet’s favorite kind of men. “Looking for a little fun tonight?” Violet glanced over her shoulder and gestured to two other women who turned their attention to the man’s companions, “Can I get you another drink?"
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"you'll die trying to make the world pay for what it did to you."
Shuckster
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Post by Peter Dearborn on Sept 12, 2015 7:57:59 GMT -5
blow a kiss
fire a gun.
S
urprisingly, it hadn't been Peter's idea to come to Roxie's tonight. In fact, Peter had only learned of the place just moments ago, after one of the men he was dealing with suggested it. They were Clarke Wilson and Joseph Miller, a couple of investors and entrepreneurs from up north looking to get their hands on the booming casino business here. Naturally, upon overhearing them, Peter introduced himself with the intentions of selling them land which he did not own and forged papers. The task, however, was tiring. Hours of talking and discussing their plans, the locations, all the legal documentation. Not to mention the men constantly wanted to be entertained, showed a good time, experience all that made Las Vegas a gem in a dry and vacant desert.
They had decided to go drinking before hand and after one conversation after another, one of them had suggested that they go to Roxie's, a brothel with fast women and good entertainment. Granted, Peter had not been in Vegas very long himself, but he was surprised that he never discovered Roxie's sooner, considering it was his kind of crowd.
Upon entering, Peter felt a rush of energy burst through him as his eyes scanned across the room. A cloud of cigarette smoke floated over the room while beautiful women in short dresses and high heels were being pulled into men's laps. As he glanced over to the bar, his stare was immediately captured by a beautiful woman with dark hair and hazel eyes gazing straight at him. He paused to look, eyes scanning her with a smirk as she chewed her lip, beckoning him to come closer.
A pat on the shoulder stole his attention. He turned to the two men as one of them said he was dying for a drink even though they had been drinking all night. Peter agreed and led everyone to the bar, hoping to sit next to the gorgeous girl who was making eyes at him. But as they finished pushing through the crowd, her chair was empty, making Peter deflate with disappointment. They all grabbed a seat and Peter tried to seem interested as the two men made lewd comments to each woman that passed by them, deciding which ones they would sleep with and which ones they would sleep with the lights off.
Peter tapped his fingers along the bar and sighed, glancing around the room in hopes of seeing the girl who he now couldn't get out of his head. Maybe he had too much to drink, his mind played tricks or he simply saw something in a girl that actually looked nothing like the face he had already memorized. He supposed he would get over it quickly. There were lots of beautiful women surrounding him, all of them would be eager for his attention, though this woman had struck him as different.
Answering his prayers, she appeared before them again. Peter straightened up and smirked as she greeted them. Her accent immediately hit Peter, taunting that curious side of him to figure out what it was. It sounded like a mutt accent, something made up. Maybe it was, it wouldn't surprise him. He wasn't oblivious, he knew the girls were all acting out some kind of fantasy, giving life to a woman that doesn't exist. He said nothing and continued to watch her as the other two greeted her with a "well, well, hello there beautiful...." Both of them were practically pushing Peter aside to get a look at her, but her eyes were only on him as were his. Thankfully, she distracted Peter's marks who were panting down his neck with two women and it seemed as though Peter had dropped off the earth, their concerns no longer with either him or the woman Peter had his eyes on.
“Looking for a little fun tonight?”
"Only if it involves you," Peter purred, wetting his lips as he shot another smile at her. He gazed down at his drink when she offered, realizing it was empty and nodded at her. "Another whiskey would be great. Get yourself something too," He said, handing her a bill.
As she ordered, Peter watched her, his eyes raking over her body. She was petite and thin, almost boyish looking if it hadn't been for her sexy clothes that barely covered anything, giving Peter a good look at her smooth legs and the top of her breasts. Imagining her naked and tangled in white sheets wasn't difficult. He liked that when she looked back at him her stares were always coy and mischievous, like she only had bad plans for Peter tonight. He couldn't wait to find out.
Peter then decided to make a bold move. Her accent had been stirring in his head as soon as her words reached in his ears. It woke ancient feelings inside of him, bitter and sweet at the same time. As she turned and offered him his drink, he said: "Как вас зовут?"
His German accent appeared when he said the words which were very rusty on his tongue. Despite the negative feelings both Germany and America had for Russians, Peter only had fond ones. He hated their army, hated what they did to his country after the war, but the children who were captured and admitted into the camps with him would always be in his heart. They were like him, scared and isolated, seen as nothing but a bunch of experimental rats for the Nazi's. Peter remembered how they all huddled together, stripped of clothes, beaten and starved. To them there were no Germans or Russians, just children, all frightened and holding onto for their lives. Peter had forgotten most of what he had learned, but there was once a time he knew how to speak the very basics, getting the point across to the other children.
"Don't be scared."
"You have to eat."
"Please don't die."
Of course, his assumption was a very dangerous one. She could react very negatively, mistake Peter for a communist or be insulted that he thought she was Russian. He hadn't heard the language in years, but he swore when she first spoke to them, he was hearing it again.
TAG:Violet Doe OUTFIT: SUIT NOTES: ):< (translation 4 u: 'WHAT IS YOUR NAME?')
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Throw me in the water Don't think about the splash I will create
Shuckster
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Post by Violet Doe on Sept 13, 2015 13:50:21 GMT -5
dream came true
tell them this ain't new.
P eople never really understood Violet’s job. They always assumed that she was a skank and that she had no self-respect, that she loved having sex and did it with wild abandon. Some of their points were true: she was paid to have sex, but she certainly didn’t enjoy it as much as she pretended. It was exhausting, and the men were usually disgusting. They were so often married businessmen, and they slobbered on her, drunk and dirty, and they always wanted her to play a role of some sort. She always made sure to take a long shower after she slept with any of them.
This man, though, he was different. First of all he was young. He must have been in his early thirties—old enough to be well-established but young enough to be attractive. He looked fit, though Violet had learned that clothes could be deceiving. “We can make that happen.” She took the bill from his hand, her fingers grazing his as she accepted it. Yes, she definitely liked him so far. “Thank you, sir,”
She ordered the drinks from the bartender, who winked at her as he handed her two whiskeys. Violet wasn’t planning on actually drinking hers, but she had to make a show of it anyway. If she was offered a drink, she wasn’t going to just turn it down—men liked it when they were able to do things for her. It always seemed to give them a power trip. The words that left him shocked her. Russian sounded strange now, especially on a stranger’s lips. A stranger with a German accent. She only faltered a second before she handed over the drink, a tense smile pasted onto her face. “I’m sorry, what was that?” She asked, still grinning awkwardly. It was too late for her to drop her accent, but she wasn’t interested in him knowing about her. Most people didn’t have an ear for accents and even if they did, they were usually too preoccupied to notice. Maybe the drink would be good.
Shoving down her fear, she seated herself on his lap, one arm behind his neck. “What are you doing with those two? You’re by far the best looking.” She ran her hand down the front of his shirt. It was an expensive one by the feel of it, and finely tailored to his body. “I bet you’re the smartest, too. And the strongest. And the best lover.” With each compliment she walked her fingers slowly back up his chest, and loosened his tie. She gave him an impish smile, lower lip still caught between her teeth. He certainly seemed to enjoy her; he could barely keep his eyes off. She took a sip of her whiskey, savoring the burn. Maybe she would just have a sip or two, help her shake the wariness off. Violet hoped that her dismissal would be enough for him to lose interest in her accent; maybe he would just think she was making her accent up. Now she wished she’d given her attention to one of his friends instead.
There was very little reason for Violet to be so afraid, she knew. So what, she could speak Russian; it wasn’t completely unheard of. But the interest usually didn’t stop at her just being able to speak Russian. Soon he would want to know where she was from, what she was doing in America, and Violet hated those kind of questions. All she wanted was to do her job and move on, maybe even steal one of his pretty golden cuff links. Violet pressed her lips to his ear, “What kind of fun do you want to have?”
TAG: Peter Dearborn OUTFIT: use ur imagination NOTES:what did i just write and why
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"you'll die trying to make the world pay for what it did to you."
Shuckster
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Post by Peter Dearborn on Sept 13, 2015 16:05:54 GMT -5
blow a kiss
fire a gun.
"W
e can make that happen.”
He smiled at that. Charming, naturally of course. He supposed that every women in here shared the same trait, something taught in order to be successful in the world’s oldest profession. The tips of her fingers were soft and gentle as they grazed his hand. The makeup on her face made her look older, more refined but she was very youthful in appearance, no doubt younger than Peter by at least a couple of years. Maybe too young to be in a business like this. She had to be in her early twenties, where was her innocence? Who was he to ask, anyways? He didn’t think he was ever naïve or innocent either.
The look on her face made Peter think that he had been wrong. She frowned at him, even looked crossed at him as she handed his drink. Peter met her eyes as he took a sip then broke the contact by watching the caramel hue liquid swirl in the glass.
“Never mind,” Peter shrugged, gazing up to crack a weak smile at her. It was obvious how disappointing it was for him to realize it was just a trick, like a dog rolling over. Cute, but nothing interesting. Anyways, go figure. Most of these girls were born and raised her, or Reno or started in L.A and ended up here once they ran out of money and their dreams of becoming stars died out. She was probably one of them.
She slid onto his lap, pushing whatever thoughts running through his mind out of his head. His hand slid around her waist pulling her closer to him with a lazy smile as he looked at her, the smell of her flowery perfume reached his nose, awakening his senses. A hardy laugh escaped him as he watched her painted nails drag down the front of his shirt and then make the climb back up, filling his head with pretty words with that familiar accent.
“What are you doing with those two? You’re by far the best looking.”
He laughed again. He knew of course she was stroking his ego, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel good. Besides, it was true, not to sound vain, but the other two men were far older, balding and covered in age spots. They were well past their prime years, though that didn’t seem to slow them down.
“I bet you’re the smartest, too. And the strongest. And the best lover.”
“You know, there is one way to find out if all of that is true…” Peter teased, stroking her legs, his hands stopping dangerously high, fingers stroking her inner thigh as he locked eyes with her gleefully mischievous look with his own. If he could hold her any closer, he would have. He could feel his breath bouncing off her collar bones and tickling the hairs on his face as he spoke. The smell of the whiskey on her and her perfume mingled together, creating a delicious smell radiating off her skin.
A shiver ran down his spine as her lip brushed his ear. He took a sip of his drink while she spoke and put it back on the counter. Peter’s hand slipped down her back, he fiddled with the zipper on the back of her skirt, giving her an idea what he had in mind, though he didn’t say anything. Leaning back to look at her, his eyes locked with hers for a moment as he smiled and he felt his eye lids flutter as he leaned in for a kiss.
She moved her head out of the way.
Peter’s eyes flew open and he looked at her, stunned, confused—he didn’t know what to feel, but he laughed, half awkward and tense as he furrowed his brows at her, wondering what she was doing. She was a prostitute, wasn’t she? Wasn’t every woman here one? So why the hell did she dodge his kiss like the plague? “Apparently not the kind of fun you had in mind,” He mused, stroking her side with another chuckle. “You saving yourself for marriage or something?”
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Throw me in the water Don't think about the splash I will create
Shuckster
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Post by Violet Doe on Sept 14, 2015 22:59:09 GMT -5
dream came true
tell them this ain't new.
V iolet had become an expert at paying men compliments. She knew how to make men feel like they were the king of the world. She knew how to charm people out of their clothes and their money, and it was why she made so much doing what she was doing. It was difficult to make a living out of, especially when you started out. Violet had worked her way up, starting from the very bottom of the totem pole. Now she was making fifty bucks a client and got to keep most of it. Some men—usually the ones who left the happiest—would even leave her a tip, and she never had to give those up. Even though her job wasn’t ideal, Violet did love the money, and she got it quick. Unfortunately, most of it went to paying rent and security and other stupid shit that her landlady claimed had to be paid. That and pot, of course. She smoked a lot of pot. It started out as something to relax her and had grown into something she looked forward to. Every night, once all of her clients were gone, she would lie back and unwind. While she could tell she wasn’t physically dependent on it, it was still something she looked forward to every night. It didn’t help that Violet took whatever she could get to turn her brain off. She was well aware of her own addictive personality, though, and had sworn to herself she would never touch anything that could kill her.
Actually, she was pretty sure that prostitution and pot were the closest she could get to killing herself without the whole death thing.
His hand crept high on her thigh, and Violet grinned at him. She tugged gently on the hairs at the nape of his neck, and her fingers scratched gently at his scalp, a little hint at what could come later if he so desired.
“You saving yourself for marriage or something?”
Despite being a prostitute, kissing was a huge issue for Violet. She’d found it too intimate for her own liking, so she fought it. It usually wasn’t an issue; Violet was oftentimes the one that went in for the first move, or they usually always went for her neck instead. This man, however, went straight for the kiss. Among her rules for herself, Violet had two that were her biggest: No kissing on the lips and No getting emotionally attached to her clients. On very rare occasions she might have let a client steal a kiss, but she hated it. And emotional attachment was definitely out of the question. It had never happened before, but she was determined to avoid it before any sort of feelings manifested. Violet had heard horror stories of prostitutes that fell in love with their clients and were left heartbroken and pregnant. She was not going to end up like one of them.
“We’re gonna play by my rules.” She said huskily, her teeth tugging on his ear. Violet carefully slid from his lap and offered him her hand, wiggling her fingers until he took it. She grabbed her drink from the bar and led them to the back towards her room.
At first glance, most people would think it was lush and personal. Gorgeous curtains hung from the canopy and plush purple bedding covered the large, king-sized bed. Violet had done the best she could to make the room a place that was inviting and appetizing. Yes, it was in a brothel and yes, it was in a shitty brothel, but it was hers. It was the only place that Violet had to herself, and she was forced to share it with strange men whenever they came around. But, in those occasional hours she had to herself, it was all hers, and she would be damned if she left it bare. She didn’t need any more sadness clinging to her living place. Despite its lushness, there was nothing personal anywhere. Violet didn’t have anything personal. She didn’t have any family pictures or heirlooms, no paintings inherited from grandmothers or strings of pearls from her mother. She hid the emptiness underneath lovely tapestries. No, no client would ever know.
Violet stretched herself out on the bed, “What kind of man are you, stud? Do you like them innocent?” She tucked her chin into her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. “Or do you like ‘em rough and wild?” She bore her teeth at him playfully, watching as he stood at the end of the bed, taking off his tie and undoing the cuffs on his lovely tailored shirt.
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"you'll die trying to make the world pay for what it did to you."
Shuckster
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Post by Peter Dearborn on Sept 15, 2015 21:36:28 GMT -5
blow a kiss
fire a gun.
"W
e’re gonna play by my rules.”
Peter could feel his heart skip a beat from her tone. He leaned away from her, feeling her pull his earlobe between her teeth and gave her a curious look, brows raised and a wicked glee in his eyes. She had him wondering what kind of lover she would be like. She had already given him high hopes for what was to come, but up until the actual act, Peter was never too sure. Some of these women flung themselves at him, promising him the world and rattling up his cage until they were unclothed and simply laid there limp like a dead fish. He had been disappointed more than a number of times, he would hate for this to be one of them.
Sliding off of him and offering her hand, Peter looked down at her and then flicked his gaze up at her face. She wriggled her fingers, beckoning to come and not have another moment of self doubt. Smiling, he emptied the remainder of his drink into his mouth, putting it on the table, and grabbed her hand, enclosing his fingers around hers.
“Yes, Ma’am,” He replied amusingly, maneuvering his way through the brothel and down a hallway where they entered a bedroom. As she let go of his hand, he took a look around, a habit of his to observe his surroundings before reacting. The room was nice, but nothing homey about it. It was like his hotel room, nice to look at, but it was just a place to lay your head down after a long day. And of course, you know, other activities. Purple bedding and cushions plumped up the bed and looked nice enough to sink into.
As she approached the bed, Peter sauntered towards the vanity that was in front of the bed. He looked at himself, ruffled his hair a little and began to take off his jacket. He draped it over the seat and then turned around, taking in the prostitute as she stretched herself across the mattress. He loosened his tie before yanking it off altogether as she sat up.
“What kind of man are you, stud? Do you like them innocent?”
Like a shapeshifter, he watched as her entire demeanor change before him. She tucked her head and averted her gaze away from him, a weak blush reaching her cheeks as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, feigning nervousness.
“Mmm-mmm.” Peter said, shaking his head as he gave her a disapproving look. Nothing was more awkward than first timers, even if was all play pretend, it would only make him feel tense. He didn’t get why some liked the whole ‘virgin’ act. Virgins were clueless and almost if not always did not enjoy themselves. He wanted someone who knew what they were doing, someone not embarrassed or afraid.
“Or do you like ‘em rough and wild?”
She bared her teeth and let a growl rumble out of her throat. Peter chuckled at her, impressed by her acting skills, the way she turned into one person and then another. It made her wonder if all of this was an act, that from the moment he saw her sitting at the bar, she already had been in the mind set of someone she thought would catch Peter’s interest. Who was she really, though? When no one was watching, how did she act? Peter wasn’t all that very interested in other people’s lives. Unless of course, he was trying to take a buck or two from them. He hadn’t even been bothered to ask for her name—only in Russian, but when she didn’t seem to understand him, he didn’t repeat himself. He had lost interest after that, but it was peaking again.
He untucked his shirt and undid every button starting from the top to the button. Throwing the white shirt over his shoulder, he approached the bed with a lazy smirk and grabbed her hips, playfully pulling her towards the end of the bed and himself. Peter parted her legs and felt her wrap them around his waist, bringing him closer as he leaned in and began to kiss down her ear to her neck.
“I want you to pretend like this is my last night on earth,” He murmured into her collarbone, peppering her skin with kisses as his hands felt her up, slipping under her shirt to touch her bare skin. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, grinning, “Make it memorable,” He panted, proceeding with heavy kisses along her skin and undressing her.
***
She did exactly as Peter requested and more. The sex had been amazing—the best, possibly, he pondered, unable to figure out a time he had ever felt something as raw and intense as he did with her. Peter was still panting, a self satisfied look on his face as he laid there, sheets tangled up in his legs and skin drenched in sweat. There was a rush of adrenaline he hadn’t felt before which he now craved, wanting more and more. He turned his attention to the source, her, rolling on his side to look at the doe-eyed female while she was also taking a moment to catch her breath. He leaned into her and sighed, kissing down her neck and shoulder. “You. Are. Divine.” He said in between each peck.
Turning back around, he leaned off the bed to grab his jacket. The used condom was laying beside it as Peter yanked it off the floor and then dropped it as soon as he found his lighter and box of cigarettes on the floor.
“Want one?” He offered, shaking the box a little at her while one dangled in between his lips. As she took one, he put the box on the nightstand it lit both their cigarettes. A long sigh escaped him as he exhaled the smoke and felt himself sink further into the drenched sheets. Now everything seemed perfect. Taking another huff, he looked back at her curiously and tilted his head, eyes trailing down her and the sheets that barely covered her.
“So what exactly do they call you around here?” He asked, smirking as smoke puffed out of his nostrils. “You know, just in case I’ve got another itch I can’t scratch.” Peter was already making plans to return. Las Vegas had its fun; casinos, shows, luxurious pools and the desert heat, but now he thought he had really found the jackpot.
TAG:Violet Doe OUTFIT: SUIT NOTES: SUPER DRUGGED UP SO THIS MIGHT NOT BE GOOD
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Throw me in the water Don't think about the splash I will create
Shuckster
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Post by Violet Doe on Sept 16, 2015 22:24:43 GMT -5
dream came true
tell them this ain't new.
V iolet was pretty sure that this man was her favorite client. If she were being dramatic, she would go as far as to say that she was definitely head over heels in love with him. She had long ago resigned to a life of mediocre sex. It had become a chore for her, and it had been a long time since Violet really enjoyed the act of having sex. No one took care of her needs—and Violet didn’t expect it—and so Violet was usually stuck doing all the work and not getting anything in return. It really was just her goal to please, but it would’ve been nice to get something in return. This man, however, had been good. Violet was pretty sure that this had been the best sex she’d ever had, and she wasn’t being dramatic. Although she hadn’t gotten off, he’d been good to her nonetheless. She figured that once he left she would just take a shower and help herself out; she felt as though she deserved it tonight. The girl let out a purr of satisfaction as he kissed along her neck and onto her shoulder, calling her divine. As she lie there, the thin blanket draped over her waist, she certainly felt like a goddess. There was a distinct power that came when men came undone because of her, and she held it tightly in her hands. When it came down to it, she could get men to do almost anything for her in the heat of the moment. She’d had men beg and grovel for her, and she loved the power trip it gave her. It was strange though because, while she’d certainly had moments of power with this man, so much of it had been just raw. There had been no fake persona she put on; it wasn’t odd for her to have to keep up the innocent virgin or the dominatrix style personas, but she’d been straightforward with him.“That was fun.” She agreed, watching as he momentarily disappeared looking for something off the side of the bed. Violet ran her hand from his shoulder down his torso, enjoying the curve of his body. He turned out to be just as gorgeous beneath his clothes as he was with them on, which only added to her enjoyment of him.Violet accepted the cigarette, stretching her arms above her head as he lit it, ”Thanks.” There was a little kink in her back from when she’d arched into him; she wasn’t used to reacting so much to a client’s touch, and she certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy her time with him so much. Violet was also pretty sure that she was going to have a few little bruises on her hips from his fingertips; he’d gripped her hard.“So what exactly do they call you around here?”She exhaled a line of smoke to the ceiling, watching as it dissipated in the air. She turned her head to look at him, ”Violet.” She gave him a little shrug, mainly in response to the large amount of purple in the room. It seemed appropriate, really—it was a royal color, and it wasn’t beneath her to fill her entire room with a color that corresponded with her name. She took another drag, returning his once-over, ”What do they call you, stud?”Peter. It seemed fitting. Peter the man that knew Russian, but he had a German accent. She watched as he stubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray that sat on the nightstand. He pulled himself slowly out of the bed, and she admired his backside as he did. Violet hadn’t practiced her art in a long time, but she decided that if she was ever to draw again, she would draw his back. It was lean and muscled, and it rippled whenever he moved, and Violet just wanted to run her hands down it again. She stayed where she was, content to watch as he clothed himself. She certainly hoped that he had an itch he needed help scratching again; she would be glad to help him out.Violet gave the slightest inclination of her head as he slid money onto her vanity, taking another slow drag of the cigarette in her hand. ”Oh, Peter?” She watched as he paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him. Violet gave him a wide, wolfish grin, ”Bis zum nächsten Mal.”
TAG: Peter Dearborn OUTFIT: use ur imagination NOTES:translation: until next time
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"you'll die trying to make the world pay for what it did to you."
Shuckster
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Post by Peter Dearborn on Sept 23, 2015 0:24:41 GMT -5
blow a kiss
fire a gun.
H
er manicured hand left faded red lines down his back as she ran them across his skin. When he lifted himself off the floor and turned to her, he pulled a strand of hair off her face to look at her flushed cheeks and skin glowing with bliss. Peter knew when women were faking it not, even if they were the greatest undiscovered actress of America, they couldn’t fool someone who fooled others for a living. He knew that Violet had enjoyed herself, which made him all the more pleased with himself.
“Violet…” Peter echoed, glancing around at all of the purple objects in the room and chuckling. “Fitting.”
He wondered if every girl in Roxie’s brothel had a theme to their room or whether their rooms corresponded with their names. Honestly, he wasn’t all that curious about finding out. It was a thought that he quickly disposed of. Honestly any curiosity he had about Roxie’s left as soon as he saw Violet. Now he was more fixated on her, what she could give him, what could become of this. Obviously he wasn’t thinking romantically, but where this would take them sexually. Sure it was exciting sleeping with one girl and then another, a new face every time did mean different experiences. But that didn’t mean they were all good. Some were going to be awkward and the other ones miserable. At least with Violet it had already been established that the sex was good between them. He thought he’d keep his business with her.
When she asked his name, he glanced over and took a long drag from his cigarette. “Peter,” He sighed, exhaling smoke from his mouth and offering a lazy smirk at her. “I have a feeling you’ll be calling it out a lot, so don’t forget it,” He joked, turning around to butt out his cigarette. It was time to get going. As much as he enjoyed himself, he never liked the aftermath. Things were awkward and someone was always forcing small talk and to be frank he wasn’t all that interested in her life or what other men she’s been with and that's all he thought she had to say since that's what her life revolved around.
Shuffling out of bed, he grunted and reached of his neck, rubbing the knots and the sores forming around his shoulder where she raked her nails along his skin. She hadn’t been the only one that left her mark. He could see the bruises on her hips and the line of hickeys down her neck to her chest beginning to surface. Again, he felt satisfied with the sight, like he had made her mark on her. He gave her a knowing glance as he buckled his pants and buttoned up his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles out of his jacket while he admired her lying partially naked in the covers, tempted to dive in again and become tangled in her legs.
Opening up his wallet, he slid the bills and a couple extra more as a personal gift onto the nightstand. He glanced at her once more and dipped his head, a farewell for now and made his way to the door. It had been opened when Violet called for him. He turned his head over his shoulder and met her eyes that were wild and looked satisfied with something he didn’t know.
”Bis zum nächsten Mal.”
His stomach dropped and so did his smile just for a brief second. Several things had clicked in at that moment. For one, he knew he had been right when he guessed she was Russian. She not only understood him, but had recognized his accent which he had no problems hiding while speaking English, but obviously it was there when he had spoke Russian to her. She knew German. What did that mean, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but his head spun, wondering where she had learn, had she lived in Germany, what she was doing here in America. So, so, many questions and all of them Peter was scared to find out. After a pause, he smiled, the shocked expression off his face expired and he turned back to the exit.
“Goodnight, Violet.”
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