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Fatal Seduction: Scene 2.

There was something special about tonight--although, Ryker couldn’t necessarily put his finger on it. Fatal Seduction was busy, per usual, men from all over Blairville flocked with cash in hand. It seemed like a typical night, other than the fact that Ryker had been spending an unusual amount of time at the establishment, which had a majority of his staff on edge. All of the women on call showed up on time and even went out of their way to greet him. That’s when he knew something was off, or maybe it was just another case of brown-nosing. Whatever the case may have been, Ryker was just as much on edge as they were, their behavior only egged him on. He was even sober, or at least looked as if he had been. Perhaps that was the key--Ryker hadn’t indulged in his vice for the greater part of the evening and he didn’t have his head on straight.

“Inform me upon her arrival.” -- “Will do, boss.” With that, he excused himself from the floor and made his way back into his office to powder his nose. Ryker was dressed to impress tonight, sporting a slim fitting tailored suit, black on black, adorned with a crimson tie. Concealed within his suit jacket was a holster containing a semi-automatic 9mm handgun, chambered and loaded with hollow points. Which was unlike him; normally he trusted and relied on his security detail to handle any situation that arose, but there was no such thing as being too safe. Taking a seat behind his desk, someone on staff was kind enough to arrange his paraphernalia, which made him smile. Taking hold of a nearby razor blade, Ryker began chopping at a rather large pile, from there he sifted through some of it to form a straight line and indulged with a satisfied sigh.

“Any minute now.”  

@Sigil Warden

Edited by Better Than Gore

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What little practice Unity had managed to get in between the interview and the call had been... mediocre at best. Her employers had been surprisingly unhelpful in this regard - though perhaps she should not have been, given that this was not only a task of ill-repute but also what surely could be seen as a redemption arc. She would have to figure this one out on her own.

So she'd posed questions to actual dancers, trying to word them in a manner that made her look like an eager newbie and not, in fact, a clandestine agent. They'd given a lot of conflicting advice, and no small number of anecdotes about guys being grabby which Unity had assumed came with the territory and really wasn't factoring into the whole matter. She had meds to deal with groping hands, but she did not have meds to make her better at working a pole. Finally, one girl gave her an idea she could work with. Eschew the pole almost entirely - and do a dance routine closer to a rave. With sufficiently insufficient clothing and no small amount of glow-in-the-dark paint, the brief flashes of flesh in the strobe lights would be as good a tease as any sensual pole-work... and she didn't quite feel crass enough to go straight to talentless booty-shaking either. Unity had a nice behind but... clapping it like a seal was just abhorrent even to her sensibilities. Besides, it would let her use some of her actual talents in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion.

Thus, armed with an upbeat track on vinyl that had cost a hefty dime, and an outfit heavy on the mesh and zippers and little else, the thief found herself once again greeting the bouncer at the door. This time though, they let her straight in... the boss was expecting her. Fantastic. She was on time, but Unity hoped she'd have time to steel herself... maybe rehearse a bit beforehand? First things first though... she needed to hand this disc off to the DJ and AV guy so they'd know what was up. Fleeting around the edge of the place behind the bar island, she bee-lined to the head-bopping dude in sunglasses next to the turntable, hoping to avoid talking to anyone before she managed to tell him what she had in mind.

 

@Better Than Gore

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Knock, knock, knock.

"Boss, she's here." --- "Ah, right on time." Ryker chimed in, right before railing another line. What's one more for the road, right? Taking a moment to collect himself, he tapped his desk and promptly exited his office, closing the door behind him. Moving toward the bar, he took a position behind it, assisting the bartender with the line of customers before pouring himself a shot of top-shelf whiskey. Shooting it before his gaze scanned the Club's inhabitants, not stopping until it fell upon his newest employee. Flashing a tooth filled grin, his silver clad canines noticeably gleaming as the lights of the establishment graced his smile. Unity would be observed from the bar, like most of his newly hired dancers were. This wasn't a case of special treatment, despite what Unity thought had she have noticed his onlooking.

"Who's the new girl, boss?" --- "Unity,"  --- "She's a looker, that's for sure." --- "You don't say." Both the bartender and Ryker shared a chuckle. Ryker's smile hadn't gone anywhere since his initial sighting of the woman. 

Once Unity had reached the DJ, he lethargically removed his headset from the closest ear so that he could hear her request. Nodding in acknowledgment he then motioned in the bars general direction, making her aware of the fact that she was being observed. "Pressure is on, sweetheart. Break a leg." And then took the vinyl she propositioned, removing the one currently playing and starting her own.

"Making her way to the stage, give it up for Unity!" Was spoke into the microphone and the crowd of degenerate men and women all whistled and clapped in anticipation.

@Sigil Warden  

Edited by Better Than Gore

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Shit.

Thrown right into the maw of the shark tank, Unity froze up again as she felt what must have been every pair of eyes in the establishment swivel to face her like a turret, their curious gazes boring into her side and back like a powered auger. Her hands balled into fists, eyes growing wide as the place spun around her, suddenly overcome with vertigo and nausea. In that moment, she realized she really, really didn't want to be here... especially not dressed like this. With a lost, dilated look, she stared blankly at the stage and strobing lights, a few seconds stretching into multiple eternities of anxiety, the urge to cry and the need to flee vying with each other for dominance - until a gentle hand ran down her back, stilling her tensed muscles, loosening them and slackening her brow.

A potent cocktail of mood stabilizers deployed directly into her nervous system, lifting her from the icy grip of fear into an aetherial far dimension, where she felt what might have been close to joy. Or maybe that was just her confusing relief with happiness. A practiced ease released her from her stage-fright, her tall heels rolling her hips into time with her song as she ascended the few stairs to the dais. Already, the dimmed lights and brief strobes shrouded her body in mystery, the silhouette broken only by the taut stretch of mesh over a perky chest and thick, fit rear. She'd ran blackglow through her frosty tips, lending her cropped hair an almost angel like halo under the UV backlights.

I guess its time... to dance.

An easy toss of the hair... a lean back onto the pole to bob her head easily to the thrum of the beat that both lit the senses and evoked primal emotions, letting the slow buildup move her body the ways that felt right. The rational part of her practice forgotten, she began to shift side to side with one hand back up against the metal, widening her stance with each rock of her hips to show off her toned legs. Strapped into 8 inch platforms, under normal circumstances the agile thief would have been hard pressed to do more than a basic strut in them, but this music had crawled into her ear and it moved her with a sensuality she'd only dreamed of sober. Her cropped little jacket, whose hem had barely cleared the base of her bust, came off almost immediately, revealing two glow in the dark circles under the black mesh of her shirt, bouncing along with her every move. The bright pasties winked at her audience, jiggling on each breast, as she spun abruptly on the ball of her foot and embraced the pole between them, dragging herself suggestively over the cool aluminum, sighing loudly with the kind of need that made every man in the room stiffen instantly.

But the music was picking up, and she stalked out in front of the rotating pole now, her shoes drumming the podium in time to the bass, and waited for the brief voice sample that was the only warning to the drop.

With abandon, in double time, she moved both erratically and yet with definite purpose, her legs always posing just right after a kick for a pigeon toed, suggestive forward lean or toss of the head, her arms lancing out only to run her fingers indulgently over her body a moment later, throwing out small beads of sweat as she did so. Intense heat radiated from her, as if with fever - a perfect euphoria that soaked her through. Yellow hardlight batons blossomed in her hands, though in the dark it seemed like she had pulled them from the tiny pockets of her booty shorts, and in a blur of neon they carved arcs of light around her writhing form. Some melody beyond the blasting, echoing bass overlaid itself, only in Unity's imagination, timing her erotic contortions into superposition over this simplistic baseline. Like a master ravebunny, she wove a tapestry of light around her in trails of white and yellow, her teasing flesh only visible in the briefest flash of a strobe above.

But they wanted to see more than silhouette. She'd cut the little black jeans ahead of time - with a single wrench they tore off, baring her properly... allowing the shapely thief to release an ampoule of UV sensitive paint with a clench of her pelvic floor. Like an exclamation of climactic finality, it splattered out over the stage in a staggered dribble , licking across her thighs on its way down. Fingers trembling with exertion, she slumped back against the pole, dragging the glowing liquid up over the curve of her hips and up her sides, smearing it up over her bust and streaking it out in fading trails into the hollow of her neck with suggestive moans and splayed hands that pawed at her own body.

When the music faded out and the lights slowly raised back to normal, all that was left was the sweat-drenched, slightly disheveled girl squatting at the base of the pole, the batons crossed between her legs, breasts heaving with labored breaths. However... she was smiling... a smile that quickly broadened into a shudder and a broad grin. She'd done it.... she'd actually done it.

 

@Better Than Gore

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As Unity’s performance began, those seated around the stage began throwing and stacking money in and around the platform, the currency ranged from papered bills to that of alien and foreign coinage. Those stacking soon realized that their entertainer wasn’t as touchy-feely as those who graced the stage previously, they resulted in shoving it forward while simultaneously forking over more, cheering with excitement as her act intensified. A competition for Unity’s attention soon unfolded amongst the spectators; bribing her with more and more money in exchange for her affection. Once her dance concluded, a couple of them rushed and fought their way to where she would exit, cash in hand, hoping to steal her away for a more private endeavor. “Unity! How much for a dan---fuck off, I was here first!” It appeared her first recital was a big hit.


Fatal Seduction’s patrons weren’t the only ones that thoroughly enjoyed Unity’s stage show--Ryker too took notice, certainly not in a way a member of management should have. Hypnotized by her erotic sway, a familiar bulge became very apparent down the leg of his trousers, leaning toward the bar as he intently studied her. “You need me to take care of that for you, boss?” A giggle escaped the bartender as she took notice of his arousal. “That won’t be necessary.” --- ”Awh.” She whined with disappointment. Ryker’s longing facial expression quickly twisted into one of jealousy as several men approached Unity with handfuls of cash. Pushing off of the bar, he’d pour himself another shot and down it before retreating to his office. Something told him he would need to hit the slopes once more before his interruption could commence.

@Sigil Warden

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At first, the slender thief was barely cognizant of the voices around her - a thick auditory fog seemed to separate her from the thronging adoration surrounding her. Still flushed with the thrill of her performance, she straightened, 'collapsing' away her batons so that she could sweep her tips together quickly with the sole of her platforms. Halfway through this process, she remembered she wasn't wearing pants anymore, and stiffened, her cheeks reddening even more as she realized she'd been bending over multiple times to pull the money together. Covering herself with her discarded jacket,  she spared the sizeable pile a sad glance - it was a shame it would be added to a mutual pool. Although she barely recognized some of the denominations present, it was a hefty amount.

What finally brought her back into the present was a particularly brash young fellow stuffing a fistfull of bills directly down the front of her mesh shirt, giving her a third boob comprised entirely of... money. Unity looked down at the offering between her breasts with a sort of puzzled bemusement, then up at the sweaty dude, and realized the guy had about 5 guys getting ready to dogpile him if she took his offer. Pre-empting a massive brawl over something she'd not even been paying attention to, she hopped down off the stage gracefully, interposing her pretty self between the posse and the client, giving a brief wink.

"Sorry lads, I'm taking his offer. I'll be around later for more, don't worry your handsome heads."

She gave the youth that had stretched her mesh shirt a swat on the rear, taking care to keep her legs closed as much as possible as she navigated the club behind him. "Find a booth you like, love, I'm going to go pull on my spare skirt real quick." She let him wander off towards the private studios, before flitting off to retrieve her bag from behind the DJ's setup. Unity gave him a shy, apologetic smile as she shimmied quickly into the tiny garment that barely restored her modesty, and shrugged. "Normally I'd find a room but I figure it goes on and off easily enough, heh. Thank you for nailing the timings, I... actually had fun up there. I think. I think that's the sensation I am feeling." She giggled, and was off again, chasing down this generous tipster. The thief couldn't back down now, maintaining her cover would require her to demonstrate willingness to work without being told. Not to mention... her heart was still beating out of her chest with the audacity of what she had just done a few minutes ago, and she wasn't entirely sure she could say she hadn't genuinely liked it.

Unity found the man already settled in to a partitioned lounge, his fist down the front of his trousers. She suppressed the urge to laugh - did he even need her there if that's how revved up the dude was? Besides, it wasn't like she was going to help him with that - if anything, quite the opposite. Exotic dancers were purveyors of flustering, not satisfaction. Keeping her eyes on him, she blew aside her single black bang that always hung into her face, and fished up the wad of cash he'd given her, depositing it on a side table, 'ere she sauntered over to him seductively, crossing her legs at the ankle in a catwalk that far outdid her usual streetside strut. It was, of course, all about indulging his fantasy. She cocked her hip out, stopping in front of him, gracing him with a brief smile.

"Shall I get a bit more hands-on then, sir?" The question was largely rhetorical - the customer managed only a mute nod. Unity met it with one of her own, and sidled forward, pinning him to the leather couch as her knees hemmed him in at the waist and she settled into the man's lap just a hair away from full contact. The lounge music here was languid, easy, not really any particular track but some looped mix, but Unity didn't care to change it. Instead, she dimmed the lights down to near-darkness, letting the outline of her glow-painted skin trace the suggestion of her shape in the air as she undulated just out of reach.

 

@Better Than Gore

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"Why?" Gorgeous women surrounded Ryker on a daily basis; not once had he grown any sort of attachment to them, let alone experienced jealousy over something as simple as one of them doing what they were paid to do, especially one that he had met once before. This was a whole new experience for him, to say the very least. All of these thoughts were cycling in the man's head as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, trying to find some sort of conclusion as to why they clouded his judgment in the first place. When nothing came to mind he resulted to the only coping mechanism that he knew... violence. Ryker was very familiar with that, after all, one didn’t climb their way through the ranks without it, violence was a key ingredient to success in his line of work. Hitting the slopes once more, Ryker exited his office and made his way through the club, shoving dancers and patrons alike out of the way. It was showtime.

A goon was stationed just outside the entryway to the private rooms, whom of which took immediate notice to his oncoming and fuming boss. Part of him wanted to try and stop Ryker from entering, but that Devil on his shoulder whispered thoughts of encouraging his bosses short temper. He had to make a decision and fast, Ryker was almost there. Positioning himself in front of the entrance, a hand rose to greet his boss but slowly fell back down to his side. “Just don’t kill the guy, boss. We don’t need any more unnecessary attention.” --- “Move.” With that, the large bouncer side-stepped out of the way and permitted Ryker entry. One by one he would begin kicking in the doors to the private booths, each boot was followed by the sound of a struggle and a scream from the dancer inside.

Each was taken by surprise, as the music within each room was just loud enough to mask the absolute chaos inhabiting the rooms prior. Making his way through the booths he would inevitably come across the one he had been searching for, with a swift kick access was granted, and there she was. “Give the girl your money and get the fuck out.”

@Sigil Warden

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The near-absolute dark and pounding bass line made the sudden intrusion absolutely and terrifyingly surprising. The resulting reactions were equally violent, but couldn't have differed more between client and girl. A high-pitched scream rent the air, peaking over the music for a brief moment as Unity vaulted off the customer reflexively, her powerful legs throwing her into a tumbling cartwheel that landed her in a poised crouch in the corner. Her lenses immediately auto-corrected for the contrast in lighting pouring in from the doorway, recognizing the silhouette of Ryker instantly... and also the growing dark spot seeping across the customer's pants as his shriek died in his throat.

Adrenaline surged in her veins, and her muscles tensed, not knowing if the drugged up bastard was here to visit violence on her... but certain that her impulsive movement was... not typical of any kind of exotic dancer, no matter how flexible or gymnastic they might be. If the jig was up this goddamn quickly, there would be blood, and lots of it. Black polished nails twitched silently in the air, ready to fight the moment the fucker so much as flinched in her direction. She cursed herself now for having smeared herself in glow-in-the-dark paint... he'd have no issue seeing exactly where she was - all he had to due was follow the bobbing trails of her pasties.

Instead, the boss, whom to the customer must still have looked just like the spectre of death looming in from the bright light of the hallway, directed his ire entirely at the poor fucker frozen on the couch. Stammering and swearing, the guy realized Ryker wasn't kidding, and at this point was more than willing to hand over the rest of his cash just to be allowed to leave. A vibrant array of colorful epithets streamed from his mouth the whole way out, leaving Unity still crouched and tensed in the corner by the end of the couch. Her characteristically soft voice could barely strain over the unemotional track that continued to fill the room.

"What the hell?!"

@Better Than Gore

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Ryker’s vision had adapted and became quite adequate in dim lighting throughout his time working for and managing his own establishment; granted, it wasn’t superhuman in any way shape or form, so tracking Unity’s abrupt maneuver bordered impossible. If it hadn’t been for the paint, he may not have caught her performance whatsoever, let alone able to pinpoint where she had intended on landing. Had the situation been a little less heated, he may have given her a round of applause, instead, an eyebrow raise sufficed. Which disappeared just as quickly as it had surfaced--Ryker’s attention was drawn back to the customer, who would soon be removed from his chair and thrown through the door by his tee shirt. Dusting off his hands as if he had just taken out the garbage, Unity questioned his actions.

“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?” Rhetorical question. Ryker wouldn’t even give her a moment to consider answering before he began to explain himself. Turning around to face the confused and likely angry reddened gaze from across the room. “Trust me when I say this, Unity. I’m normally not the jealous type and I apologize that this is the way you had to find out, but ever since you left your interview I can’t keep my mind off of you. I don’t know what it is, or what you did, but your face, voice, fuck even your smile is permanently burned into my thoughts.” There it was--whatever it was, whether he had just confessed his infatuation with the dancer or simply a crush, it was there in the open. What she would do with his confession was still up in the air.

“If I have made you uncomfortable and unwilling to continue working for me, I understand. I will pay you your earnings from the rest of the week and we can part our separate ways.” Was thrown in; as far as Unity could tell, he was being sincere, despite his rash behavior and very apparent elevated mindstate.

@Sigil Warden

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An intermission of what passed for silence in the small lounge intervened, the rogue cautiously straightening to standing in the dark. She couldn't find words to reply to the man's outrageous confession - it brought absolutely no balm to the mortal terror that had been gripping her a moment prior, and it washed over her so quickly she was still trying to process just what exactly had just happened. So instead she feigned a fumbling in the darkness to reach the fader switch on the nearby wall, even though she could see it perfectly well, and gradually restored the recessed lighting to the small room, a look of incredulity still frozen on her face.

Then, as if a ton of bricks weighed on her shoulders toppled and slid off all at once, her neck slumped in relief, and laughter chimed from her chest. Her hand rose questioningly to her cheek, as she looked up at him, still laughing with an expression that read mostly as "Are you serious?!". Trying to stifle it with her fist did nothing - the chuckling continued to rise unbidden at the absurdity of it all. The famed crime boss Ryker Albrecht confessing his infatuation with her like some breathless schoolboy at a dance. She had to take a seat - it was all she could do to keep the tone from rolling into outright mockery as she gripped the leather armrest and let the giggling fits pass. Only when she had taken a deep breath did she look back up at him, her mouth still twisted into a grin she couldn't suppress, constantly threatening to break back into hiccuping laughter.

"O-okay, Mister Albrecht. Ryker. I guess that puts us first name ba... basis. Ahem." The thief had to stop to prevent herself from giggling again. "It's really uh... sweet of you to say that, but you really scared the hell out of me. I don't know how I feel about my boss... crushing on me." Her smile drooped a bit, the coping mechanism of mirth finally starting to slip away, as she realized that she couldn't simply let him down easy and take her leave like he had suggested. Her mission required her to stay, and record episodes just like the one that was currently transpiring. While there was nothing overtly criminal about this particular action, it did paint the man as extremely brash... and also, judging from his face, quite high. This could be manipulated... as could, she realized, his fancy of her. That part made her heart sink a little. Increased favor was a double-edged sword that brought more confidence, but also more scrutiny. She'd almost outed herself just now with her acrobatics - how might she slip up later if he was always watching her?

So naturally, she said something entirely the opposite of her feelings. "Maybe I'm in the wrong position then if you're going to steal me away from your customers, Mi - Ryker. I don't want to be the employee that makes you drive away the people paying the rent. I'm not petty, I will stay - I just want to feel safe, and right now..." She fixed him with a strangely distant and yet vulnerable look with her smoky eyes. "...I don't feel safe at all."

@Better Than Gore

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Laughter? That certainly wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, or expected for that matter, needless to say, the Crime Boss was not pleased.  His eyebrow fell flat and a blank emotionless stare greeted her response. "I see." Women, especially those who worked for him practically threw themselves at him on a day to day basis, any woman in their position likely would have. Ryker promised financial security and even protection. Nobody in Blairville dared cross him, hell, nobody in all of Terrenus dared. Unity was different and that was exactly why he had been attracted to her in the first place. Now what? Ryker saw this situation ending up in his favor and it went the exact opposite. There was likely nothing he could say in order to change her decision.

Embarrassment wasn't a familiar feeling, Ryker exuded confidence and practically wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills, yet there he was, flabbergasted as a red blush found his pale features. His hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end as that embarrassment quickly took a turn for the worst. Anger overwhelmed him as his jaw clenched tightly, as did his fists, knuckles popped and cracked sickeningly. Giving her a firm nod, he quickly turned himself around and began to exit the room. "Feel free to stop by my office if you have any questions, enjoy the rest of your night." Escaped him just as he rounded the corner.

"Everything o---" --- "Clean this shit up.. now." --- "Right away, Boss."

Once out of clear sight of both Unity and his other employees, Ryker gazed down at his hands, the Parasite had begun to unravel itself. Ribboning his fists in a blackened carapace, only to retreat upon controlling his emotions.  "Easy girl.. not tonight.."

@Sigil Warden

Edited by Better Than Gore

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People unused to not getting their way could be some of the most explosive and dangerous - combined with the prestige and power of Ryker's position, this made him genuinely terrifying. Unity had read it in his expression, the way his shoulders and stiffened and his fists balled, in the strangulated tone of the man's voice. A barely restrained anger, that could as easily have lashed out at her as any other of the crime boss' employees. In one moment she felt both relieved that he had left abruptly but simultaneously dreaded having to confront him about it later. Doubtlessly his infatuation with her could be used against him, and she cursed the fact that she'd not had the presence of mind to immediately capitalize it. It had taken her so off-guard she'd not been able to fake flattery. As much as she tried to avoid leveraging her looks beyond a mere selfish indulgence in passing stares, she'd had to weasel her way out of danger by giving in to carnal demands on more than one ignoble occasion. And yet, those instances did not compare to her current predicament - where sex had been a means to defuse a situation or to escape it, now she was likely going to have to use it to place herself even further into the den of lions.

A soft sigh ruffled the dangling tip of her single black bang that always hung in her eye, disturbing the almost statuesque stillness with which she reclined on the performing couch. Resigning herself to the fact that bailing on the mission was at least as bad as getting closer to the mark, she cut the recording clip from her iris cameras, transferring the data to her unfolding phone that she had tugged from the tiny pocket on her skirt. A minute or two of emotionless tiptapping of her fingers on the holopad left no doubt in the investigative body's decision. She was to make use of the man's vulnerability. Unity didn't even try to argue it - she knew better than to put her on more of a shitlist. She ought to have been appalled - essentially forced into whoring herself out for her own freedom. Second-degree rape via blackmail. The alternative was incarceration for life... or another decade on the run across the planes of existence, never able to just settle down. Even with the 'upgrades', she wasn't going to stay young forever. It was yet another layer of insurance, on top of the debt owed for her cybernetics. The real surprise had been that they'd not stripped the thief of her extraordinary powers... though it had been threatened once already.

Lost in thought about her predicament, it was only when another girl sidled into the room awkwardly with a john that Unity stirred out of her mind fog, absently grabbing her cash from the table and tucking it in her purse. She was going to need alcohol for this. A LOT of fucking alcohol.

~

It took nearly an hour of shower time to get that damn glow paint off herself. Thank the gods for industrial water heaters - hot showers were a luxury that despite her rapid adoption of the post-modern, futurist world, Unity still found absurdly indulgent. More than once she'd had to consciously stop herself heading out the door to go to a non-existent bathing spot in a river. Another half-hour to fix her hair product and makeup that had run a bit in the billowing steam, and she was ready to go. Knowing exactly what she had in mind as her end goal tonight, she'd ditched the pasties under the mesh shirt, instead hiding herself only in the tight embrace of her over-cropped leather jacket. Undergarments likewise had been eschewed, leaving her vinyl pleated skirt as the only barrier between her and the world. Slightly torn stockings clung to her thighs as her refreshed self mingled back into the crowd of the club. Almost immediately, former patrons began to congregate around her, but her beeline for the bar left them staggered behind Unity, letting them filter in one at a time. Not one failed to offer to buy her a drink or two to slake her declared thirst - in return, she offered them some polite conversation and heart-stopping bats of her eyelashes. She'd already had more than any girl of her size had a right to imbibe without becoming stupid drunk, a result that certainly every single one of her admirers were waiting eagerly for.

They knew she had nothing on under that skirt. She knew that they knew, and crossed and re-crossed her thighs often for their benefit. But those cerebral and endocrine enhancements were good at their job, and she was still only just getting a bit giggly. Realizing disappointedly after almost two hours that the money sink was not producing favors beyond teasing, the less wealthy finally departed, leaving her with a brief bit of solitude. The barkeep looked at the thief with plainly obvious jealousy, if a bit sympathetic.

"The boss really likes you, Unity."

Unity looked over the rim of her fourth mixed rum, and snorted into the glass. "I know. He told me."

The barkeeper looked positively excited. "That's really good you know, he almost never pays that much attention to his girls.... did he... you know... have you private sesh with him?"

A blank stare was followed by a wan smile. "He asked for one, yeah."

Incredulously, it was the keeper's turn to stare. "You say that like you said 'no'...?"

"Yeah, I blew him off."
"Girl, are you stupid? Do you know who you just turned down?!"
"... I get it, he's the boss, I'm supposed to keep him happy, et cetera."
"Not just keep him happy, Unity, his expectations of you must be super high, you just failed a basic test."
"I... don't think so. He sounded more like a flustered schoolboy than head honcho in there."
"Shh! Shut up! Just... agh, I don't want to see you disappear two nights after your debut. You'd better go in there and apologize to him."

Unity gestured vaguely to the row of empty glasses in front of her. "Heh. Don't worry... I plan to."

 

@Better Than Gore

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Ryker practically made a b-line straight for his office; hardly giving anyone the time of day, save for a casual nod of acknowledgment. His staff knew when he wasn’t in the greatest of moods, typically they kept their distance, most of them stayed away regardless. Only those close to him were comfortable enough to approach him or even exchange glances when his night was going particularly bad. This was one of those times. Upon entering his office the door was promptly slammed behind him, which likely went unnoticed due to the sheer volume of music within the establishment. Making his way over to his desk, a remote was snatched up and his own music began to play, drowning out the noise. Tossing it aside once he took a seat, he immediately went to work on the rather large pile of sheen, scraping a decent amount closer with a nearby razorblade, only to chop at it desperately and sort it into multiple thin lines.

“You’re a fool.” In one swift motion, a line was consumed--his snorting utensil would be repeatedly tapped atop the desk until it was positioned in the opposite nostril, railing another and sighing with relief. “Like that’s going to make it all go away. Can’t reverse time, you dumb motherfucker.” In fact, it would do the exact opposite, his mind raced and his imagination ran wild. Replaying the situation over and over again until he stood up to pace. Speaking incoherently to himself as he walked back and forth behind his desk. Occasionally shaking his head and swinging at nothing in particular. “How can I make the best of this situation?” Trick question. Surely there was something he could do, maybe apologize? Explain himself further? Ryker laid everything out on the table already, going into further detail would probably just make her think even less of him. “God damn it.” Finishing off his last line, his razorblade would be put to use once more, scraping an even larger pile toward himself, chopping and adjusting it accordingly.

@Sigil Warden

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"You won't find my face in that pile of 'product', hun."

It was a quiet reprimand, barely heard over the trap beats, delivered in a tone Unity still wasn't quite used to using. She'd let herself in without knocking, an act that by anyone else would have likely ended in murder. Instead, the shapely thief was facing the dangerously high crime boss with her bravest smile, her eyelashes fluttering at him from the doorway. Pushing the door closed with her heel, she cocked out her hip, and pointedly swirled the rum cocktail in her hand around idly, batting away imaginary dust from her vinyl miniskirt with the other.

"I thought... heh. I thought I might um... apologize for laughing at you earlier." Her thighs crossed closely in front of one another, stalking a hip-swaying stroll past the front of his desk, setting the glass down on the corner as she leaned up over it, hiking one leg over the side to show off exactly how much she wasn't wearing. Her fingers, usually supernaturally dextrous, fumbled a bit with her jacket zipper, letting her chest out for some air in the stuffy enclosure. "It... it took me off-guard, you know? But I'll make it up to you, boss-man." She blew him a kiss, and hopped back off the furniture, making her way up to the neon underlit pole that beckoned from the center of the lounge-office. The part of her that still wondered how she had let herself into this mess had been replaced by a much more easygoing Unity, loosened by enough liquor to drop a horse. Carefully, deliberately, she wrapped each hand around the cool aluminum, palm-first, then curling each finger in individually grasped the sturdy metal, testing it despite knowing it could easily support her weight.

There was no part two of her show to be had, though. Instead, after a few experimental, brief twirls about the pole, she simply widened her stance as she faced away, and bent over at the waist as her grip ran palm-open down the pole, presenting herself in a way that made no mystery of its intention. Her sultry, painted gaze caught Ryker's eye just over the curve of her shoulder, the red stare peeking out from among the strands of crisp white. "I've needs that have gone unfilled... have I come to the right place to ask for... help?"

 

@Better Than Gore

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