The Burlesque Lounge

[Light Ice]

These games.

Too many ignored them. I could not. There were too many pleasures in these small touches. They drifted over me, along my rugged frame, stirring my prick as her eyes drifted to regard it. As she looked at me.

"Sleep well?" I ask.

The question surprises me. I had not thought it was there. It comes as I stretch my rugged arms out and capture the soap from her, then her hips, and pull her until the line of her lean spine stretches against the breadth of my chest. Water beats on us, beads on our skin, and even as my fingers begin to circle the soap's bar along her navel my lips move to suckle damp places along the line of her shoulder.

I keep her close. Her perfect ass against my hips, my hardening length. The weight of her pulled back against me, braced in my arms. And I am as indulgent as she is. Ignoring, for now, the desire to press her to the tile.

 

[DemureDryad]

"Sleep well?"

Oh, that voice. He talks so little every word seems charged with pent up energy. Another purr bursts involuntarily from my lips as he pulls me tightly against him. I feel every ridge and movement of his body, and feel my cheeks flush for reasons other than heat.

The soap on my stomach is but an afterthought to his lips, placing his mouth in all the right places to make my body catch fire. I can feel his wonderful manhood stiffening in the cleft of my bottom. I move against him, letting the cheeks of my ass carress the growing length, and a girlish giggle escapes. That little giggle surprises me. It is difficult to recall the last time I heard something like that come from my mouth.

I let my hand slip through his damp hair as he suckles delectably along the line of my shoulder, trailing oh so slowly to the tender, sensitive skin of my neck. I didn't guide him, I just wanted to touch. "Like a rock, big boy."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She sat in front of the mirror one of the girls had shown her to. Starlin was then told this was going to be her station from now on. She sat in front of the well lit mirror, staring at herself. Why had she even auditioned for this? Inwardly, she groaned. Around her the other girls were getting ready. Some were going on stage now. Some were going on stage with her. She gave a quick shake of her head and set about getting her make-up done. She still had to go to Costume and get into her outfit.

She wasn’t beautiful like the rest of the girls here. She also knew she wasn’t bad to look at either. Starlin made a face in the mirror at her freckles and began covering them up. She had a soft touch of them across her cheeks but the majority were on her chest. Hopefully what she didn’t manage to cover would be blotted out by the strong lights.

“Good luck out there, girlie.”

One of the girls, she couldn’t remember her name at the moment, stopped by and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze of encouragement. Starlin looked up in the mirror and gave her a friendly nervous grin.

“Uh, thanks.”

Most of the girls ignored her. She was new. She half expected it anyway. She and girls in her number got along alright. But then, they had practiced for hours, days even.

She put the finishing touches into her makeup, got up, tying her kimono tighter around her body as she went to find the costume guy. He wasn’t hard to find. He was the one yelling at the other end of the room. He looked her over with a dispassionate eye.

“You’re the new singer, right? What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Yes, I am. The name’s Starlin.”

He snapped his fingers.

“That’s right. Starlin. I remember now. “

He searched the racks for a moment, pushing aside costumes until he took one off the rack.

“Here ya go, doll. Hurry up and change. Your number is next and I need to make sure everything fits. Don’t want you falling out of it. Though my guess is the men would love it.”

He handed her the hanger and she went to change. It fit her like a glove. Showcasing her body. Starlin came back to him as he ran a critical eye over her and handed her matching colored shoes and the necklace.

“Yep. I was right. They wouldn’t mind at all, but I don’t believe you’ll be falling out of that outfit, baby doll. It fits you to a tee. A gorgeous tee with that hair. No wonder we have some pissy hellcats around here tonight. Now you better scoot and finish getting ready. They’re going to call for you any minute now.”

She could hear the applause far forward and knew he was right. She hurried back to her mirror to don her shoes and the necklace. She was just double checking everything when the stage manager came calling and hustled her onto the stage to take her position on the bar. The sound guy handed her a mike and winked before he left.

This was it. She was as ready as she would ever get. The curtain went up on her introduction. No time to fret. The music started and she began to sing.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

She is living, breathing, gasping...fear.

A new place. A new name. A new life. She will do anything to escape her past. Anything at all, if it means that others will not see the cracks beneath the surface calm she projects. She will become the living embodiment of all things sensual, seductive, surreal. She will do these things, BE these things, if it stops anyone from wondering why and how and who...especially who.

Lanie gave herself a critical once over. She looked ok. Not perfect, not all things to all types, but ok. Not that it mattered, anyway. She wasn't here, in this place, to get a man...or woman. She was here to earn money, to prepare herself to run, to get ready to move. She was here...in this place...because it was the best of the row. All strip clubs seemed to push a sense of greedy neediness at people. This place...didn't. Maybe because the women did more than take off their clothes. They put on a show. It made the stripping aspect...not so bad.

Of course, at the end of the day, one made the best money if one flirted, teased, cajoled. She wouldn't. Couldn't. She could fake a smile. If she had to. She could shake her ass, if she had to. She couldn't flirt. Didn't want to tease or cajole. Lanie just wanted to get the money she would earn here and get out. She adjusted her costume and tilted her hat just a bit more before adjusting the lacy little veil that draped her forehead.

She could hear the singer, belting out music like there was no tomorrow, but she couldn't dance to that. It wasn't her kind of groove. She would find a little room~ with a pole~ and go earn her money. The girl grimaced to herself. Go earn her money? Yes. Her money. Because the sooner she started, the sooner it would be over. She slipped her heels on. Size 6's. Spike heeled and utterly sexy. Black and chrome. She looked sort of steam punkish. Very outre'. Lanie thought on the proper music for this particular costume and slipped from the rear of the club to a DJ by the more modern dance areas.

"Find me something that suits, please?"

She hated the way men checked her out. As if she were some new and interesting sort of bug or something delicious they couldn't wait to unwrap. Like she was their own personal chocolate bar.

"Slow, sexy, bass heavy. Something Latin. Maybe Shakira?"

He nodded, switched out what he was playing and lined her song up. Lanie turned away.

Rabiosa

The lights went down, all of them but one. That one light was shaded blood red and shone only upon her. Lanie stood there, head bowed, one leg extended, hands up, holding onto the pole behind her. The music started. And her hips did too.

Thank God for belly dancing lessons.

 

[marauder13]

He had been drawn to this place by the word on the street. It was a place of dreams, of passions and fantasies. He thirsted for all those and more, but to get three in the one place made it the place for him to visit first.

Alehandro never seemed to walk anywhere, he seemed to glide. His walk lacked the telltale bob of most people as they stepped. His head stayed the same distance away from the ground. His long, lean legs that were encased in ultra tight black leather pants above Victorian era styled boots covered massive distances as he took each step. His body was covered by a black waist coat, also made of leather, which left a fair amount of his chest exposed to the night air, along with his neverending arms. He took his incredibly tall, lithe frame through the door and into the Lounge proper. Long, delicate digits push his jet black hair back over his lightly pointed ears, making the entire silken curtain fall down his back and over the top of his pants. His face was drawn and elongated like his body; fine features that still never seemed to loose the masculine feel. Deep brown almond shaped eyes scanned the room before he loped deeper into the lounge.

In the dim lights, his skin seemed fairer than the light olive complexion he possessed under both the sun and the moon. He moved with confidence, suppressing the shudder that came to him whenever he heard what the people considered music. The garish collection of noises lacked the sophistication and subtle blends of true music. But then, these were not a sophisticated race by any means.

He paused at one room, seeing a rich dark skinned woman dancing for men who did not appreciate the fullness of what was on show for them. There, he found a woman who was touching on something deep within her very soul, teasing it out through her dancing. But she was getting nothing in return from the fools who were viewing her only for her sexual potential. He flowed into the room, bringing himself to his full 6'6" height. Though tall, lithe and seeming delicate, those close enough would see the wiry build and the play of the compact musculature in his exposed chest and arms.

He moved closer, his eyes locked on the woman on stage. Within him, his hunger and thirst boiled up, reflected in the dark pools that dominated his face. He gave her his undivided attention as she danced. He devoured every move, each nuance of pose and movement, drank deeply of the passion she tried to put into her performance. In return, he gave her back the energy that a truly enraptured admirer could give. He gave to her, so she would give more to him. To allow her to release her passion, and let it flow through the dance.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Dull. Dull. Dull. The group, the men. Just dull. Yes, they threw money but their minds were elsewhere, probably wondering how she fucked, judging her fitness for sex by the way she moved. That bothered her. Movement for it's own sake? That made her happy. Caused her joy. Relishing the way her body felt under the skin, the way the muscles pulled, twisted, rolled. Sex? That was for other people. For those who had no imagination and wouldn't know a good idea if it punched them in the nose.

And sure, sex sells. But only because people are too stupid to look beyond the gaudy caricatures that one sees in the movies, the strip clubs, on the street. Of course, sex sells in that instance. If one is only looking at the surface, they don't have to think about what just MIGHT be beneath the skin.

Just then, Rabiosa segued into something else. Hips Don't Lie~another Shakira song. Lanie took a moment to center herself and then tossed her hat into the lap of a near by customer. Her hands flew upward, a pair of dark doves...flying together before parting. She glanced out, past the lights and into the crowd. A tall, very tall, gentleman caught her attention and her body stopped, just for a moment.

He was dark and damned near otherworldly. Attractive, very attractive, in a scary sort of way. Lanie couldn't help it~she began to perform for him. Hips moving side to side, the swinging of a pendulum. Each piece of clothing removed became an unveiling, of sorts. She danced. Her belly, her legs, her body...one sinuously long line. Yet her eyes~never really strayed from the dark holes of his own.

The noise became louder as the men seated here and there enjoyed the new level of intensity and bills fluttered around her like rain. She paid no mind. How could she? This very tall man had her hypnotized. Eventually, the music ended. Lanie stopped, her awareness once more going into herself. Stooping slightly, she scooped up the wads of money and, without once looking back, exited the stage. Maybe he would find her.

Maybe the fear would ease. Maybe he was the reason she should be scared?

 

[marauder13]

Alehandro continued absorbing the newly awakened passion within the dancer. She had seen him. He knew by the way she stopped completely in that eon spanning moment that slipped between the cracks of the less diligent eye. When she resumed, he felt the hammer blows of energy coming off her as she focused her dance on him.

One long smooth inhaling saw his eyes almost flutter closed. He opened them fully, feeding his intensity back to her as she gave him a most memorable gift. The depths of her heart connected with every other part of her body, together they moved with a flow and grace that made him forget that she was a human, seeing her as living, breathing art created just for him. About him, Alehandro felt the sea of lust rising in the others who mistook her actions for having been for their pleasure or entertainment. The banal creatures that surrounded him showed the meagre appreciation by throwing money at her. They gave her nothing in return for how much of herself she gave to them.

The music ceased, what little was left to his rather powerful imagination clad in the most delectable of fabrics. What he could see of her was radiating heat, both of her body and of her soul. She gathered everything that was on the stage, almost fleeing as she left. The aftertaste of fear gave her performance that extra tang that made it truly superb.

He flowed out of his seat, the sinuous motion defying what a body should be capable of doing. His eyes swept the room, finding the one piece of her clothing that had left the stage. He lifted the hat form the man's lap. The drunkard turned to argue with him over the prized possession. He stopped, staring at the long face that held no definable expression. The seated man felt his face go cold, as the blood raced to other parts of his body to get it away from the tall one. Alehandro lifted the hat, smiled coldly, and departed with a curse nod.

He held the hat by the brim, inverted in both hands. He had a long view look to his eyes as he walked the corridors of the Lounge. Then, he found her in the Lounge's quiet room. He stood in the doorway, letting the mix of her emotions wash over him, savouring every little faint change in the ever changing mix. He sauntered over to where she sat, her corset one more shielding herself from the world.

"This is yours." Low, smooth with an undercurrent of a growl, the voice merely slipped through the air as the prowling hunter slipped through the long grass. As he spoke, he moved the hat over her head; his arms encircling her without touching, lowering it until she could see settled within a one hundred dollar bill. "Consider it the most trifle of tokens to thank you for your most engaging of dances."

He lowered his head until it was nearly the same height as hers. His hair flowed freely over one ear, letting the sable curtain frame his face and remove less desirable sights. "Pity most only see the outer layers, desiring only that. While fine your beauty is, it is what lies beneath that makes it more."

His head remained in place as the rest of his body eased into the chair beside her. "Tell me, Sheba, why do you expend so much courage to stay in a place that frightens you so greatly?"

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lanie had returned herself to her former state, long before she ever entered the little side Lounge. Her body was once again encased in black and red. The only difference? She was missing her hat. With a muttered sigh, she decided to let it go. One of the bouncers would retrieve it and if they didn't? She would just go get another one.

A waitress~long of limb and fairly lean with flowing mahogany hair~stopped by her table.

"Hey doll. Good showing. You want something to eat? Maybe drink?"

Lanie looked up, allowing her eyes to focus on the woman. Food? Drink? After the dance she had just performed? Something as mundane as eating or drinking never even crossed her mind. So, she went within for a moment and questioned her body. Was it thirsty? Hungry? The answer was a simple one. No. Not hungry, not thirsty. Lanie gave a head shake.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though."

Once the waitress withdrew, Lanie allowed her head to fill with the image of that man. The tall one. He had been dark but not like her. Cat like. He moved smoothly, not jerking about as most tall men do. Hell, he didn't really move like any man she had ever seen, no matter what their size had been. That thought distracted her. Was he even a man...like human? Lanie shook it off and allowed her eyes to train upon the door. It was then that the object of her thoughts, entered.

Up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. The darkness of eyes, of skin, of hair~ seemed to drink the light. His voice? A low seductive growl that caused two disparate reactions~fear and something else. Lanie wanted to move, to escape. She telegraphed that by a slight change in position. Then she forced herself to hold ever so still.

He gifted her. Not with the hundred dollar bill or even the return of her hat. He gifted her with a compliment. Lanie felt herself blush, heat rising to her cheeks, her chest. She should say thank you but she just couldn't. All she could do was sit there as he eased himself into a chair, his large, dark eyes keeping her captive. His question? It scared her.

"Tell me, Sheba, why do you expend so much courage to stay in a place that frightens you so greatly?"

Lanie cleared her throat and motioned for the waitress to return.

"Water. Please."

Her eyes returned to the man and she held her silence until after the waitress had come and gone.

"I am Lanie. As for why? Women do things that are debasing, frightening, fear filled...every day. I am no different. And at least...here? I decide what I will and will not give, what I will and will not DO. I decide. No one else."

The words were soft, husky, tinged with just a hint of hardness. That hardness was the core that had kept her safe for all of these long years. She stopped speaking, her hand plucking the water glass from the table and carrying it to her mouth. She took a long sip, allowing the water to ease her parched throat, waiting for it to slip into the dark, dry places.

"And you are?"

Her voice trailed off. Did she want to know his name? Why ask? He had a good line of talk...but she didn't flirt, didn't tease. She didn't know how. She wouldn't even if she did know the ins and outs of it. Yet, some little thing kept her in that seat, kept her eyes on his, kept her waiting for his name. HIS name.

 

[marauder13]

The small mouth widened into a glorious smile, fed indirectly by the slow spread of the internal rouge filling her skin. He knew precisely what sparked the fire within her. But he also caught the flicker of her flight reaction to him. This to, pleased him. He liked that she was so off guard. Natural, instinctual reactions always tasted better than those that were conditioned or controlled. He waited patiently as Lanie order and received her water.

"I am Lanie. As for why? Women do things that are debasing, frightening, fear filled...every day. I am no different. And at least...here? I decide what I will and will not give, what I will and will not DO. I decide. No one else."

He looked deeper into her eyes, sensing her belief in her own words. He said nothing, letting her words roll about in his mind like wine over his tongue. Alehandro found himself getting excited by the woman who sat beside him. She was going to be worth the hunt. The stalk, the catch, the play and finally... the kill. Not that she would die. Killing her would be entirely wasteful. This one would be one to revisit.

"And you are?"

"Is that something you really want to know, Lanie?" His impossibly long forefinger hitched an errant curl, guiding back to behind her ear so it didn't interrupt the view of her face. "You come here because you feel that you have some control over your life, even if it is within these walls? Is this the only way you can feel that control, as you debase yourself before them? Dance for men, and some women, who don't care much about you? How can you debase yourself before people who don't care about you?"

The pad of the forefinger lightly touched the side of her chin opposite to him, easing her face around enough to get a better view of her face. His eyes moved slowly, taking in all of her cocoa shaded planes, gentle curves and slopes that made up her face. He turned his attention to her soft lips, standing out enough against her skin to be seen as lips, but not enough to detract from the rest of her face. But it was her own dark pools that his gaze returned.

"You, Lanie, are precious. Precious like a diamond. For a diamond you are. Hard, sharp, impenetrable." He let his finger leave her chin, the arm coming to rest on the table. "And like the diamond, strike it in the right place, it will fracture and disintegrate. That hardness that resides deep within you," the same finger rose to place a featherlight touch over her heart, "is what is holding you back."

He brought his face closer to Lanie's, the tips of their noses almost touching. He lengthened his focus, allowing each of his eyes to look directly into hers. He allowed his heat, his passion to fill his eyes and spill over into hers.

"You have such a passion within you, Lanie. It makes you what you are. But you need to release it, let it flow."

He pulled back to where he was before he closed on her. "Still, what fear do you have of this place, Lanie? Why do you sink yourself into this pit so deeply, that you loose more than the pittance you gain?

"This is not the place you need to be, Lanie. You need to descend further to get what you need. Is that what scares you? That you need to face something deeper, primal and naturally ugly to your more civilized self?" His delicate brows arched as the smile thinned and turned up at the ends.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

His words? A delicate play that bled her like razor cuts. Each syllable~an abuse, an idea, a way in. She couldn't deny any of it, not without allowing the truth to spill out. And he did not deserve her truth. No one did. It was hers. Hers to guard.

He thought she debased herself here. As if. To debase oneself requires the knowledge that others are not as good. She could not be debased. Not by these people, not in this place. She did not care enough about any of them to allow herself to BE debased. This was a vapor place, a hiding space, a bank waiting to be cased. The people in it? Merely vaults. She was learning their combinations.

His hands? Soft, almost fragile in their largeness. She wanted to jerk away as he made each point. She wanted to duck her head, break the spell. ANYTHING. She couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. His presence was too commanding, too very much there. Finally, his hand touched her heart, a light tap. The cascade of words that were too close, but not close enough halted as he waited for her to answer his charge, his queries.

"All those words and still no answer to my simple question? How odd. You ask me about myself, my fears, my needs and still you won't give me your name? Methinks Sir, that you should spend less time trying to learn about me and more time teaching yourself etiquette."

Lanie rose with a jerky motion, her eyes still focused on his face, drinking in his male beauty. The words that spilled from her lips, came unbidden and had the lilt of sarcastic sweetness no other female could easily match. It was how Lanie withdrew. She threw words at the problem until it went away.

"I fear NOTHING here. It is the best of a bad lot, is all. I fear NO ONE here. They do not matter enough to be feared. I do not want to descend any further than I have, Sirrah. I have seen the monsters the human heart contains....and they look just like us...well maybe not you...but then again I don't think you...are merely human...."

Her heart was pounding, pounding, pounding. She wanted to run, to escape while she could. Because she did fear at least one person here, human or not...she feared him. Her feet remained rooted by the table. Her body trembled as she tried to break the connection. She didn't want to stay here any more, her heart flayed, her mind spinning. She wanted to go....she just couldn't.

Finally, she dropped her gaze, staring at the space between his knees. Her voice was a husky whisper, her breath a faint exhale that had to be forced to return.

"Will you allow me leave of you? Or do you find this amusing, to scare me this way?"

 

[marauder13]

Alehandro sat through her mini tirade that was fueled by the massive roiling confusion that filled her being. Even the chaotic turmoil was refreshing, and he allowed himself to bathe in the richness of it's textures as they overwhelmed him.

"Now this is interesting. You lecture me about something you do not understand, then lie to me and for the finale, you accuse me of something I have not done. If this is how you treat everyone, Lanie, it is not wonder you're the diamond that you are." His eyes remained looking upward to hers, while he lifted one hand and beckoned the waitress over with a sinuous curling of a finger. He broke contact with Lanie only long enough to make his request. "A glass of red wine please." He produced in his other hand a bill large enough to not only pay for the drink, but to also give the woman a generous tip.

"Firstly, etiquette. I asked you if you wanted to know my name, and you haven't responded. Like everyone here, I will fade from your mind over time. Maybe a little longer than most. But if I give you my name, I become real. Your mind will lock me in, along with everything that has happened so far, and all that shall come to pass between us. Is that something you really want, Lanie? If so, tell me you want to know my name, and I will tell you. But remember, I will be much harder to remove from your mind, because I will have become real, rather than the faceless phantoms that populate your audiences."

He paused, thanking the waitress when the glass was delivered. He simply placed it in the table, turning it slowly for a few seconds. "Nothing, and no one here scares you, then you ask if I was amused scaring you. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shame on you, Lanie. You should know that it is better to say nothing than to speak an untruth."

The glass was lifted from the table, a soft sniff taken before his lips were dampened by the beverage. "Mmmm, not bad." Another tiny sip was taken, and the glass returned to the exact spot it was lifted from.

"I have not kept you here for one moment longer than you desired. You are the one that has kept yourself here, in my presence. And you have not asked me to leave either. If you seek my permission, though, you have it. You may leave at anytime you wish, Lanie.

"But you will leave not knowing all you seek to know. Like why you danced for me, but not for any of them. We will never know what about me attracts you so strongly that it overwhelms your fear." One eyebrow arched gracefully. "You wont know what I can do for you. Do with you." The eyebrow resumed its normal place. "Do to you."

Even with Lanie standing, she was still within the reach of his arms. One extended to the top of her corset, and with finger and thumb, he undid the knot that held the cords in place on her costume. His task complete, he picked up his wine, and took another sip.

"Do you fear me? Fear what I can do? Fear something I may represent?" Another sip stained his pale lips. "Or do you fear something about yourself that lurks in your soul?

"I am unlike anyone else in this place. I don't just see the beauty of your flesh, Lanie. I see the gorgeous mind, the timeless grace of your heart, the alluring soul as well. And I sense that you see something in me that calls to you. Leave if you wish, and have the fear snap at your heels for the rest of your days. Sit with me, and maybe you can experience the terror that will set you free."

He took a longer sip of his wine, staring at the deep, rich colour as he gently swirled it. "Your choice, Lanie. I don't really care either way."

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lanie's eyes snapped up. She had not lied. She never lied.

"I did not lie. You are not a person who is always here. You are a new thing. This building, these people that surround me? They do not scare me. You, as a new thing, do. How is that a lie?"

More words washed over her, interrupted only by his ordering of wine, and his first slow sip. His darkness wasn't something easily penetrated. His meaning were obscured and he seemed to think he knew more of her own mind than she did. Maybe he did.

"And your reasons for not giving me your name mean nothing to me. I would remember you? I would know something other's do not? You would not be able to fade from my memory as easily? What does that matter? You will visit me in dreams for an eternity, even if I do not know your name. The words you speak are nonsensical, Sir."

His movements were so very methodical, almost robotic. The way his long fingers caressed the glass, lifted it, returned it to it's original placement? Like music. Like a dance~ carefully choreographed. What type of being was he?

Those long fingers gracefully flowed through the air and she found herself unable to move as they undid the bow, the thing that held the corset closed. She couldn't retreat from him, she couldn't NOT listen to his words.

"I am unlike anyone else in this place. I don't just see the beauty of your flesh, Lanie. I see the gorgeous mind, the timeless grace of your heart, the alluring soul as well. And I sense that you see something in me that calls to you. Leave if you wish, and have the fear snap at your heels for the rest of your days. Sit with me, and maybe you can experience the terror that will set you free."

She had no response. His words plucked at her heart, on pitch, a perfect C above C. Like music, those words undid her, loosened her taut muscles, erased the panic. She could run away. He had said so. He said he was not keeping her here, that her inability to retreat was her own doing. That was true. Not the whole of it but as far as it went, true enough. He used no force, besides his presence. He used no harshness.

"Your choice, Lanie. I don't really care either way."

What to do? Resume her seat? Leave? The terror built, inflaming her skin, causing tremors that turned her body into a dance of negation. What to do? Her body decided for her, retreating to the seat across the table from his own, dropping her on to the hard surface as her knees gave way.

"I do not see how you can free me from the terror you engender, Sir. No matter. You will tell me your name. One that I can remember when this night ends. My dancing is done, I think. After all, the hook you've set has become too entrenched to remove and I find myself loath to leave without knowing what else you may share."

Lanie took a deep breath and attempted to push past the fear that roiled through her. It didn't work, not really, but she felt more in control, better able to deal with this....man. No matter what else he was, if he had a male's appendage? At the end of the day she knew what to do to appease those.

The server returned to the table, bearing more water upon a tray. Lanie took it, sipped and then gulped, the wet coldness. Her voice, when she spoke, was devoid of emotion.

"My guest and I require privacy. Tell me, is there a quiet place we may remove to?"

The woman glanced at the male and then at Lanie, her eyes gleaming with some sort of avarice. With no thought, Lanie pressed a fifty dollar bill into the server's hand.

"Just say where. That is all that is needed."

A momentary pause and then directions to the rooms that sat further back the hall, on the second floor. Lanie nodded and rose, her eyes once more locked to the man's.

"I feel we shall require more privacy than this room will offer. Follow me?"

Nothing else to do. She turned and strode away. Hoping, and fearing, that he would follow.

 

[Mav Unlimited]

This was only his second visit to the place. He wasn't like most of the customers here. Rich. Affluent. Powerful. Loaded. Throwing their money at all the pretty little numbers that sung and danced on the stage. Some of them on those wicked poles. And some over their laps. These girls here actually had talent. Well most of them did. The others would find out sooner or later where they belonged. He had seen it. Too bad most of the men who came there appreciated them for the wrong things. He had no problem with the men that earned their money honestly. If there was ever such a thing. He knew very well though, where the riches came from for some of the scumbags sitting in there, even if it had involved hard work.

He walked in as the music played and the girls were dancing on the stage. His eyes scanned the lounge quickly as he took a seat at a table in the far corner towards the left. The cute waitress that had flirted with him the last time he was here was nowhere to be seen. Must be her night off, he thought. Or maybe she was busy serving other customers. He wasn't looking for cute tonight anyway. He usually hated mixing business with pleasure. But there were always exceptions.

Charlie had lived the tough life. And had only begun to realize that it was getting even tougher, especially for the past year since he had been assigned his new task. Hustling on the streets during the day, going to parties at night where he could network with potential clients and set up deals. It wasn't easy. He had to be extremely careful. One tiny mistake and he could be dead. He hardly had any time to breathe, let alone enjoyment or god forbid, a vacation. Tonight was no different, although he expected it to be a little bit more relaxing than usual. This place wasn't as bad as some of the other ones he had been to.

He ordered a drink just as the thunderous applause hit his ears and the lights dimmed. The stage was being prepared for the next main act. Lots of other acts were being performed on the side however. His mind wandered to several years ago when he had first held a musical instrument in his hand. The saxophone had always fascinated him, even as a child. His life had taken a different turn though and here he was. Not on the stage, playing what he once dreamed of, but just listening to the jazzy rhythms and the melodious tones as they filled the dimly lit atmosphere. He loved listening just as much as he would have loved to be up there on the stage. Not dancing. Not singing. Just playing his heart out. Literally. Fingers sliding over the keys with varying pressure, his lips creating a seal against the mouthpiece as the reed sat against his lower lip, the tongue sliding gently to create variations in tone. It was almost like making love to a woman and hear the sounds that she created as he held her in his arms, against his body.

The loud noise that erupted as soon as the next group of performers appeared on stage brought Charlie back to reality from his daydream as he gulped some of the scotch down his throat and glanced towards the stage.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Charlie

Okay. First time jitters were out of the way. Starlin had some help getting into the black leather corset. Extending her legs, one at a time, she slipped on the fishnet stockings, hooking them to the corset. The high heeled boots took a little more time to don. She got it done.

Looking in the mirror, she brushed her hair, pinning it to back of her head. She wrapped a small strand of hair hanging in front of her ear around her index finger then pulled it loose. Starlin did the same on the other side, twisting her head from side to side. She checked her make up as well. Sooner or later, she was going to be up on the pole. She preferred singing.

Hustling herself to the curtain. She got ready to go out again. There were side stages where the girls worked the poles there. She hurriedly tugged on her long gloves. Giving her head a little shake, the curtain went up and she stepped forward toward the mic. The men on her side of the stage got quiet as she reached deep inside, drawing her voice from a deeper place.

As she began to sing, her body started moving, hips swaying from side to side, strutting across the stage and leaning over to sing to one of the many faces outside of the lights. It took practice to dance and sing at the same time and timing, oh lordy, don't forget the timing. She couldn't see much beyond the lights. Well, after this song, those faces were going to get easier to see. She had to mingle. It wasn't her favorite part of the job, but it was a necessary one. The song was hard and quick. She ran off stage as the lights came down, breathing hard. Back in the dressing room, she reached for a robe and thought better of it. No. They paid to see her.

From a side curtain, she came quietly into the smoke filled main room, a smile plastered on her face. An arm reached out here or there to curl around her waist and she stayed within them for a short while, then excused herself and continued to move about the room. Faces started to blend. No one stood out..... she paused... minutely. His did. The Lounge was dark, but she'd swear he had dark eyes and a smile that could melt an iceberg.

 

[marauder13]

Merriment danced in Alehandro's eyes as she defended herself against his accusations. He said nothing, watching the new dance commencing where Lanie weaved through her own thorn covered pillar dotted dance floor. Seeing her weave through, imagining her body bend, twist, undulate through the myriad of gaps while she strove to maintain her balance.

His eyes shone a little brighter as he heard of her telling him that named or not, he would live in her dreams. That brought a rush of warmth that deepened his hue from olive to a more golden colour. He took several deep breaths that seemed to expand his chest beyond what was possible for his frame, as well as his clothing. He was joyous, excited so deeply by this news that if nothing else happened, he would leave there satisfied as he had not been for a very long time.

But there was one response that he could not let linger, and ferment properly.

"I do not see how you can free me from the terror you engender, Sir...."

"Ahh, but that is the easiest one of all to do, Lanie. You, like most people, fear what is unknown. That is why everything is Named. Name it, you have some measure of control over it, because you know something of it. What is known frightens less than what is not known. So, I shall lessen your fear a little, Lanie. I am Alehandro."

He continued to sip at his wine as he viewed Lanie's tension flow from her, taking whatever she had left in reserve with it. She quickly dropped herself into a seat opposite him, still drawn, yet still fearful of getting closer. Maybe the moth had been burnt once before, yet survived? Could that be why she found it so hard to close on what she felt drawn to?

The server approached, Alehandro paying her no mind as Lanie dealt with her. He smiled warmly this time, hearing of the request for somewhere more private. He rolled his lips, wiping the wine stains from his lips as the transaction was concluded. He could almost hear Lanie's thoughts about how she would deal with him, appeasing him as he were just a man. He silently laughed at the image of her expression when she found out what it would take to truly appease him.

She looked back at him, holding her gaze until she made it clear what her strength was.

"I feel we shall require more privacy than this room will offer. Follow me?"

Before Alehandro could respond, Lanie turned and made her way to the door that led out of the quiet room. He once more flowed out of his chair, pausing to give the server a polite nod. He turned back to watch Lanie walking out, tasting the vision of her graceful movements as she almost stalked out of the room. Without his eyes leaving her almost feline moving form, he picked up his glass of wine and followed. To him, it seemed that she fell back into something she knew well, taking comfort and strength from the structured knowledge. He wasn't sure if she liked her choice or not. But he did not complain, nor lag behind her too much.

His eyesight traveled all over her body as they walked. There was nothing in particular about her that he favoured. He knew some men favoured a woman's legs, or her arse, or her breasts. Some even other less sexual parts of her body. To be honest, her body didn't appeal to him that much, except as a vehicle for the rest of her to shine through to this world. What she did with that body, and why, were more appealing, more alluring, than her mere shape.

He let Lanie enter the room first, while he paused in the doorway. Somehow, he managed to give the impression that his slight frame filled the expanse of the doorway, leaving not the slightest crack for her to exploit.

"Lanie, you said earlier you didn't lie. You reasoning was sound, but I can't read your mind, nor know your exact thoughts. I can only go by what you tell me. If you clarified that you meant the regulars here, then I wouldn't have declared you a liar as I did." For the first time, he took more than a sip of his wine. He smoothly drained the glass until it was half full. He turned his half opened eyes towards Lanie as he again flowed forward with two measured strides. His free hand easily finding the handle of the door, moving it closed on silent hinges. The echoing silence endured until the booming sound of the door locking.

Alehandro closed on Lanie, angling close to a convenient flat surface to place his wine. He kept approaching her until he was within her arms reach, stopping before her. He bent himself back a little at the waist, bringing his chin closer to his chest.

"Yes, it is now my time to dance for you, young Lanie."

Alehandro opened his soul, and heard her music. It was weak within her, but it was the very tune that dictated her moves when she danced for him. He knew the music would speak differently to him, and he would answer it with moves that were not like Lanie's. But that was how it was meant to be. Everyone heard the same tune, but it touched them differently. So they danced differently, just as he would dance differently to how Lanie danced. But like her dance, this was meant for one person. He would be dancing for Lanie, and no other.

His hands flickered, appearing at either side of her face, gently cupping her with surprisingly warm, soft hands. His entire body rippled from side to side as a snake would before a snake charmer. His forefingers drew back to push the errant strands back from her face. He lowered himself so his head was at the same height was hers, all the while his body moved continuously, gracefully and without pause.

His hands left her face, sliding and hovering just above her skin enough for her to detect their presence, but not truly feel the touch. His arms swayed and moved in time with his body, yet the hands remained exactly where he wanted them as they moved further down her neck, shoulders and the top of her chest. His fingers easily worked the cords of her corset, not touching anything else as he loosened them further.

He held the cords, straightening and contorting himself as he moved behind her. As he danced, he eased the corset off her and lying it down carefully nearby. He returned to stand behind her, his hands resting at her naked waist, pulling her back against his body. A dry heat radiated from his body, wanting to envelope Lanie and keep her warm as well.

"A gift given, a gift returned." He slowly arched himself over the top of Lanie, his hair blocking her peripheral vision like blackout curtains. "Now, my young lady, what did you have in mind for our private time together?"

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

His name is Alehandro.

The pressure, the worry, eased. Lanie had a direction, a place in her brain for him, now. She knew where to put him, how to file him. It made the whole enterprise, easier, better, more sane. At least that is what she thought as she led them through the main rooms, past the pretty performer on the main stage~ singing, dancing, seducing the crowd. Past the other rooms where others strutted, posed, preened.

Her mind continued it's ramble as she led them up the stairs, to the quieter areas, the private performance rooms. Until finally, she entered a room and turned to face him. At that time, in that moment, all thought~ceased.

He was beautiful, imposing, scary, heart breaking. His quiet words on her lack of clarity made her feel ashamed, saddened, by the fact that she had not expressed her thoughts clearly. In her mind, the way he sipped his drink, the smooth swallowing of his throat became a symphony, one that called up music~flutes, recorders, harps. He IS grace.


"Yes, it is now my time to dance for you, young Lanie."

Her heart stutters to a stop as he steps near~ his hands, oddly delicate, touching her face, brushing her hair, swooping to finish the task he had set for himself, before. She could not look away. His body moved with a slow, sinuous ease that belied that solidity of his form. The heaviness of his mortal flesh. She wanted to cry out at the beauty of it, of him.

He pulled away her corset, removing it from her cool flesh. His body drew closer, molding along her back, comforting, heating her skin. She relaxed against him, in slow increments, her body craving his heat, his maleness. The fear? Gone, for this short span of time. Disappeared as if it had never existed. And in her mind? Music. Music that pulsed and throbbed and sang, wordlessly. Beautifully.

She felt fine. Then he spoke. Goose flesh rippled along her flank...rising to the tips of her bared breasts.

"Now, my young lady, what did you have in mind for our private time together?"


Think! Her brain had nothing. No ready wit rose to her defense. She hadn't planned for this. She had no idea. She opened her mouth, closed it again...and then turned to face him, her dark eyes latching on to his as if they held the secrets to the universe.

"I don't know. I thought it would be give and take...I give, you take. Isn't that the way it always is, between male and female? Now...." A hesitation. What now? "Now, I don't know what to do or how to do it. Tell me what I should do. I am at a loss, Alehandro."

 

[marauder13]

Alehandro lifted his head, slowly turning the mostly naked Lanie around to face him. His smile was reassuring, while hinting at things that were difficult to describe.

"Of course it will be give and take, Lanie. That is the cycle of All. But women give and men take?" His chuckle was deep, almost like one that came from a Santa Claus. "That is why things go so wrong with people. Women give, Men take; Men give and Women take too. If not, the balance is thrown, and the All begins to suffer.

"No, Lanie. I will give, you will take. You will give, and I will take. In which order it does not matter." He took a deep breath. "Think of the dance, when you saw me, Lanie. You gave of yourself through the dance, which I gladly took. But I gave you my true pleasure and passion, which you took. I saw it in the way you danced. You gave, I took. I gave, you took. Many times through the dance, a steady stream of give and take from both sides."

His delicate fingers caressed the sides of her face again, following the line of her jaw until the fingers met at the point of her chin. "You speak of being at a loss, Lanie. You're wrong. You know what you want. You have your desires. You tremble at the knowledge of what you need. Tell me, Lanie, what do you want, right now. That could be given right here, with anything that is within your sight." He gave her a few moments to let the words swirl about in her mind. She was so close to being able to give him what he wanted. Needed. Desired most deeply. The raw emotion and passion boiling off her was intense. He would have to be careful to to allow himself to get addicted to her, but to drink deeply of this font was worth the risk of the bedlam that could follow.

"Trust me, Lanie, and I will make this time we have together one that you will never forget. Not one single moment. Tell me, what do you want?"

 

[Mav Unlimited]

Starlin

He had heard that voice before. The last time he was here. How could he forget that deep, powerful soprano. He hadn't had a chance to look at the singer's face properly due to a call he had received, which had forced him to exit the lounge just as her performance had begun. On his way towards the door, he had only been able to catch a glimpse of her in a sparkly little dress. But the voice had stayed with him, even if he had heard just the first couple of lines. What was that song? Charlie tried to recall. Then decided to forget it and concentrate on what was about to happen on the stage. There she was again. This time in a new outfit.

His glass hit the table as his eyes remained focused on her the entire time she was on that stage. He stopped paying attention to the blonde that had come over to mingle with him, except give her a disinterested smile while she kept on rambling. He imagined most of the men were glued to the stage, just like him. Her hips moved from one side to the other as her body strutted across the floor, bending over from time to time while she maintained her composure, making sure she wasn't too much out of tune at any point. Not that most people sitting over there gave a rat's ass or even knew about the technical skill she was displaying while singing, whether she was out of breath once in a while, or that her throaty voice seemed forced at times. It was probably the nervousness. The vocal range that she displayed, in this and the previous song he now remembered which one, was quite impressive however. He also admired the ability all these women had, to dance and sing at the same time. It was not an easy task.

He didn't take another sip until the lights came down and she rushed inside. He looked around and saw the blondie sitting in someone's lap a few tables behind. Oh well. Not her fault. A waitress came by and he ordered another scotch on the rocks, watching the kittens work the poles on the side stages. Another dark haired girl stopped by his table after finishing her routine. She actually seemed smart. At least smarter than the one before her. And was smoking hot too. He wasn't too interested though, for some reason. Not to mention he was trying his best to stay focused on his job, thinking of his next move. This place kept distracting him.

After a few minutes the brunette was gone too. Then his eyes lit up as he saw her again. She was there, in the main room, on the same floor as him. She was talking with different customers, just doing her job. Her beautiful red hair seemed darker in that dimly lit room. She oozed sex in a classy sort of way, even though her outfit might tell otherwise to some. Her facial features, now more clearly visible from a much shorter distance, were quite striking. As she approached him, like a black cat searching for something in the dark and halted just a few feet away from his table, he couldn't help but flash her a smile. His eyes didn't move away from her though.

"Are you looking for something?"

He took a sip of the whiskey as his eyes held a mischievous glint. He wondered if she even noticed it in that light.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

"Trust me, Lanie, and I will make this time we have together one that you will never forget. Not one single moment. Tell me, what do you want?"

His finger touching her chin with such delicate precision dried the words in her throat. She had an idea, an inkling of a thought. But there was no way she could do that, give that, be that. She was no longer that girl, was she? A sigh, as she fought against the need that swirled through her. Tell him what she wanted? Could she?

"I will tell you a secret, Sir."

Her voice stuttered to a stop and she automatically dropped her eyes, staring straight at his chin. Her fingers reached for the panties that went to her costume and she stepped back, away from him, long enough to divest herself of the offending material, leaving her nude but for her thigh highs and heels. Somehow, somewhere, she had lost the gloves but she couldn't remember when or how. It didn't matter. She stepped forward once more, her eyes still downcast.

"My real name is Mikayla. Lanie is something I made up to help me to fit in here, with these others. Mikayla is my past. Thrown out, locked away, but never forgotten. Mikayla had no control, she was NOT her own person, you see?

However, Mikayla is better at this sort of thing than I. She needed a firm hand, every now and again. Strength, brutality, sometimes even violence."

Eyes glanced up at him, her own dark eyes burning with some sort of embarrassment, need, desire. A combination maybe? Who knew? She didn't. She could barely believe she was admitting even this small part of her past to him.

"So you see, Alehandro, when I say I do not know what to do , where to begin, what I want? I really do NOT know. Mikayla was a life time ago and she was weak when she shouldn't have been. The person I am now? I can't take that first step. It leads into darkness."

She dropped gracefully to her knees, head bowed, voice husky, tired, brittle. The musicality of the tone was all wrong. It sounded like a lone tambourine in an orchestra filled with flutes, piccolos, trombones, tubas, trombones, saxophones. It no longer fit. She no longer fits.

"Will you help me?"

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Charlie

"Are you looking for something?"

Her eyes wandered over him as he sat there, leaning back in the chair, one hand wrapped around his drink. She tipped her head to one side.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

She offered him a slightly amused smile as she spoke. He wore that unshaven look really well. That smile of his was a killer too. She wasn’t sure why she said what she did next.

“Mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me in these boots, but don’t tell my boss I said that. I’ll deny it. Emphatically.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Pulling out a chair, she sat down, crossing her legs. Sitting back in the chair, she rested both elbows on the back of it as she watched him in the dim, smoked filled light.

 

[marauder13]

Alehandro watched the confusion surface anew, stronger as is driven by some deeper, more powerful currents. The timing of it caught him a little by surprise, but then again, that was the joy of humans.

"I will tell you a secret, Sir."

Her voice disappeared as easily as it had appeared. She broke eye contact, staring downward. Without any warning or indications, she took a step back and very functionally and efficiently removed her bra and panties. All she wore were her stockings and shoes. What was revealed continued to add to her overall physical beauty. Undoubtedly, the men would have been very happy, and generous, if they were permitted to see what he was seeing.

He listened to her intently, not missing a single nuance of her opening up. More than the words, the feelings tangled up in them lodged within him. Every minute movement, each drop of nervous sweat, each variance in tone and candance were noticed, merging into the greater understanding of the woman before him. Even the rolling storm behind her eyes was perfectly clear to him, sharpening his vision further.

Her monologue complete, Mikayla sank to her knees in front of him. Her head seemed to have slumped against her chest, her voice as brittle as a sun bleached deadfall, aged by the sun for decades.

"Will you help me?"

Alehandro placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her insistently to her feet. He took hold of her hands while he sat down, crossing his legs. He drew her closer, getting her to straddle his legs. He guided her down in his lap, each of her legs curled around his torso.

"Who am I helping, Mikayla? Am I helping you to come back again, or am I helping Lanie to become the real you? No wonder you are lost, and confused. You are really Mikayla, yet you are trying to live as Lanie." Alehandro shook his head softly, his hair waving and rippling behind him. "You want to be Lanie now, is that right Mikayla? But to be Lanie, you must step into darkness, and you fear that?" He leant forward slightly, eyebrows arched, eyes open wider, head pressed forward slightly. "Mikayla, darkness is not to be feared. How else will you know how brightly you shine unless you step into the dark?"

One hand went behind her back, supporting her just above her hips. The other hand came to rest just between her shoulder blades. Both hands were spread to aid in supporting her. Very little of her back was not within the boundaries of his hands. But then, the upper hand moved up under her cascade of raven curls. His fingers curled, locking large bundles between his fingers. With a rough snap of the wrist, her head was bent back. Alehandro quickly bent over her, cutting off the rest of the world with his continuous curtain of obsidian strands.

His voice carried the low roll of distant thunder. "My help, I will give. Just tell me, who am I helping, and what type of help she needs."

 

[Mav Unlimited]

Starlin

He chuckled at her reply, noticing her eyes as they roamed over him and then brought the glass to his lips, the ice clinking inside, sliding towards his mouth. The last few drops of the scotch trickled down his throat. He glanced towards the stage once and then looked back into her amused eyes.

"Your line? I don't think we need to use lines here to get what we want, do you?"

He wasn't surprised one bit that her feet were killing her. Those toes must really hurt too after all that dancing, whether it was shoes or boots. The next words from her mouth made him smile, even though she had dodged his question for now.

"I don't mind at..."

She pulled the chair even before he could finish speaking. Of course. It was part of her job. He wondered whether she knew he wasn't as loaded as some of the clients over here. She would be terribly disappointed, unless all she was looking for was...

As her legs crossed and she leaned back, he couldn't help but shift in his own chair slightly, his fingers gripping the now almost empty glass firmly. His eyes dropped to the toe end of her boot that was hanging in the air and traveled up her leg all the way to rest on her face once again. Such striking features. He was right. He tried to remind himself why he was there though. He needed to maintain the balance between business and pleasure. And it was going to be very, very difficult.

"I'm wondering what else you will deny. Emphatically."

His fingers circled the rim of the glass idly, his gaze steady on her, as much as possible. Her corset clad breasts jutted out as she sat in that pose and his eyes were being drawn to those fishnet stockings time and again.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Charlie:


Her lips quirked, her eyes held a glimmer of amusement. Her shoulders lifted and settled.

“Perhaps not. But when men are desperately lonely and around beautiful women, you’d be surprised what comes out of their mouths.”

She watched him, looking at her. She was use to it. Starlin knew she wasn’t beautiful. If anything, she was pretty, in that down home, next door girl sort of way. She kept herself trim by going to the gym every other day and on off days, she ran. Starlin wasn’t stupid either. She knew exactly what men thought of her, what they thought they could have, just because she worked in this lounge. Sex sells, even the illusion of it when there were men desperate enough to believe in it. And she was one of the girls that sold that illusion and for what? Money. Granted, some of the girls sold more than the illusion. She didn’t judge. Money made all the difference when it came to survival.

Tony swung by with a try of drinks. He set another scotch in front of the man she was talking to. She ordered a tall glass of warm water with honey. The man’s next words caught her unawares.

"I'm wondering what else you will deny. Emphatically."

Her eyes riveted on his.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

 

[Mav Unlimited]

Starlin

She seemed smart. And not the kind of girl who would sell her mind or her body for money. Although smartness had nothing to do with it. Or maybe it did have everything to do with it. A person had to be smart in order to make any kind of sale, again and again. And neither were all of the men visiting the lounge dumb. He had been surprised before, and wasn't planning on assuming anything about her. Her words made him smile. He was lonely alright. Desperation? Probably not. But it can slowly settle in when a person is experiencing loneliness like he had been, not to mention the fact that there was no time for any kind of entertainment due to the kind of work he did. And she was right. Men could sell their own mother sometimes when it came to beautiful women. The steady flow of drinks didn't help their brains function any better either. Charlie glanced up at the waiter as he set another scotch in front of him.

"No, thank you. That will be enough for me."

He didn't need any more alcohol than that in his bloodstream tonight. He watched as the woman sitting in front of him ordered water with honey. He ordered some water with lemon for himself and stopped circling his fingers over the rim of the empty glass, sliding it towards the waiter as she spoke to him once again. His eyes shot up from her stockings towards her face. Charlie contemplated for a few seconds on how or whether to answer her question, glanced towards the stage where another performance was just about to begin, and then looked back into her eyes, leaning forward a bit as if he wanted to whisper something to her. It was difficult as it is to hear anything in all the noise around them. She wasn't exactly sitting in his lap where one could hear each and every little sound produced by the other.

"You have a really great voice, you know. And those moves weren't too shabby either, considering your feet aren't exactly comfortable in those..."

His lips curved into an amused expression, his eyes dropping to her boots before lifting up once again as he leaned back in his chair. Then, he wasn't sure why he said what he did after that. He normally would never have struck up such a conversation with any other girl from that place.

"Do you think your true talent is appreciated here, like it should be?"

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lanie/Mikayla

His voice had the rolling sounds of an orchestra~the vibrato and timbre of the deep wood wind section, the passion and caring of drums. She wondered, and not for the first time since this all began, what he was. No human male had that sort of voice, not even the most dominant of men.

His voice swooped, it sang, it stroked and cajoled. It made her feel safe and terrified and worried. His hands, large, so very warm, caressed and softened, made her pliable to any whim he might have had. Those two things, in concert? Voice, hands? They broke her down. So, when the hand lodged itself into her curls and yanked her head so very far back that her breath was caught by the controlled violence of it? When his words insinuated themselves into her cortex and the soft bass of his need, echoed along her spine? His question deserved only one answer.

"My help, I will give. Just tell me, who am I helping, and what type of help she needs."

"Me...you are helping me. Lanie and Mikayla. Both of us. Make me whole again? As for what I need? You. Above me, within me, below me. For however long until I feel normal."

Small fingers crept up, dived into the dark cloak of his hair, tangled there. A low wordless cry as music rolled over her, engulfing, drowning her. It didn't stop, not even when she rose up and pressed her lips to his own. It only deepened, the sound of flutes and saxophones pricked by a lone guitar, a baby grand piano. It only swallowed her up and held her deep in it's undertow...until she no longer knew where he began and she ended.