The bodyguard and me

[Hannah18]

OOC: SO I've always like the thought of a bodyguard roleplay.. So I'm looking for a dominant guy, who is quite detailed and isn't afraid to get a little rough to play the position of my bodyguard. I don't want it to go straight to sex, and I want someone to persuade me.. will be slight reluctance on my side, but not force.

Name: Hannah
Nickname: Annie
Age: Eighteen
Height: 5"2
Looks: Long dark brown almost black hair, large brown eyes, slightly tanned skin, slim and toned. 32B

OOC: My father is a very important political figure, meaning that he also has alot of people after him, and as his only daughter, people that are after me too. He decided that I needed a new bodyguard so he hired you, naturally I was very against this as I had liked my old bodyguard because he let me do whatever I want and I knew just how to play him, the problem is it is alot harder with you as you are so confident and don't give into me.

IC: It's late at night, my father has gone on yet another buisness trip, leaving me and you alone for the night, I had wanted to go out with some friends, but you had say no, and now won't let me out of your sight incase I try to sneak out, something I have done many times before.

I lean back on the chair, my dark brown eyes glaring at you, tension thick in the air, as my hands play with the edge of a cushion "you know this would be a hell of a lot easier for both of us if you just accepted that I will always get what I want" I say the anger clear in my voice.

 

[PNW_Male]

The (not tonight) Bodyguard

The lobby of the Empress was empty; empty save for myself, a trio of hotel employees, and the two obviously armed Suits flanking the express elevator across the lobby. All eyes were either set steadily upon me, or repeatedly glancing my direction. You would have thought I was here to snuff the man rather than apply for the job of protecting him.

I'd protected politicians before, but never one that could have the lobby of a Five Star Hotel cleared just so he could walk from his room to his town car in safety. I'd always thought that kind of security -- that kind of power -- was reserved for heads of states, not the men and women who worked under them.

A high pitched ding sounded, the elevator opened, two additional Suits emerged and scanned the lobby, and then all four strode forth -- my direction -- flanking closely the man who had already fronted the ten grand retainer I required for this level of protection work.

I took a single step out into the aisle, expecting the troupe to stop, but was surprised to instead see them pass right by, with the lead Suit curling a finger to indicate me to follow.

Out the door, into a pair of bullet resistant sedans, and off we went.

The Curled Finger Man sat beside me, talking -- no, simply listening -- to someone on the other end of a cell for nearly the entire distance from the Empress to the HeliPort.

"He likes your work," he finally said, still listening to the voice that even I could hear coming over the smart phones ear piece.

"My work?" I asked, unsure of what precisely the man meant. "What does he like about my work?"

Finger Man listened for another moment, then without a word, snapped the phone closed. He half turned, looked solidly into my eyes, and answered, "You don't let your people get killed."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "That's what a body guard is supposed--"

"You won't be using that word on this job."

"I won't?"

"No. She doesn't particularly like the idea of having a new bodyguard, so why don't we just--"

"She?"

His look of surprise told me that I should be expecting one of my own.

"Annie," he began, then smiling -- a knowing smile -- continued, "Annie is the daughter. You're here to watch ... not guard ... Annie."

Oooo, I already don't like the sound of this.



At the heliport, I stood by at the sedan while the others -- his others -- escorted him to the Augusta twin turbo. He was in the air and gone, and we hadn't exchanged a single word.

Four hours later, I was standing in his home -- an elegant estate surrounded by manicured lawns and thick pine forests -- staring down at his pissy little daughter, thinking, this isn't worth ten grand.

"You know," she began, staring right through me with those big brown eyes, and smiling devilishly, "this would be a hell of a lot easier for both of us if you just accepted that I will always get what I want."

I considered her words for a moment, and concluded that she was correct; it would be easier. I let her go out with her friends, she gets into a crowd, some freak grabs her, my job it over, I keep the retainer. Unfortunately ...

"Sorry, Annie," I responded, giving her a smile that sat somewhere between polite and bite me. "I don't get paid to do easy."

I stepped away a bit and leaned against the couch back, studying her for a moment -- as she was certainly studying me as well. I returned her devilish smile and informed her, "But ... we could play checkers. Do you like checkers ... Annie?"

Her expression told all; this was going to be a long, fucking night -- a long fucking four days, the length of the assignment. You wouldn't think spending the night with a sexy, young woman would be a bad thing. But, when you're on the job, and she's giving you that if looks could kill expression, well ... it's gonna be a lo-o-o-ng night.

 

[Hannah18]

I was past mad now, I was fucking furious, not only had my Father decided to hire someone to “watch over me” because apparently I now needed someone to protect me.. he had hired someone who was completely over the top and who thinks he has the right to tell ME what to do! Besides I can look after myself, I most certainly do not need a babysitter!

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I turn back, fixing my eyes on him, there is no way that I could fight him, so I guess I’ll just have to try and change his mind, maybe he will listen to me. I watch as he thinks over my words.

"Sorry, Annie," "I don't get paid to do easy." he says and I fix him with my worst glare, if only looks could kill, he would be six feet under right now and maybe that would wipe that smug smile of his face.

"But ... we could play checkers. Do you like checkers ... Annie?" he then adds, and I feel my mouth drop open in shock, he can't be serious! I take a deep breath as I try to calm down.

"Well then I better make sure your doing your job" I say, flashing a smirk before I stand up, pratically running past as quick as I can towards the door, honestly I thought he would be after me alot quicker than that, but who am I to complain, I get to the door, reaching up and starting to undo the locks.

 

[PNW_Male]

The 40 yard dash

"Well then I better make sure your doing your job."

And in a flash, she was off!

Now, one of the first things you learn about being a successful bodyguard -- and by successful I mean you and your client lives through one job so you can begin yet another -- is to know your surroundings, and control them. I knew my surroundings -- both floors of the mansion and all of the grounds -- before Annie had even deigned to come down from her bedroom and meet me.

And controlling them? Well, Annie was about to learn about that the hard way, I feared.

From where Marion Jones had begun her Olympic sprint to the front door she was anxious to escape through -- a distance she covered in 4 seconds -- I already knew was a 12, 13 second walk for me. There were two dead bolts, a standard lock, and a chain; that was another 3 seconds or more, depending upon whether she fumbled one or more of them in her excitement. Add to that the fact that I'd removed the key from the keyed dead bolt, requiring her to get into her pocket for her own copy -- assuming she was even carrying her keys; that was another 3 seconds minimum.

The alarm system required a ten digit code to deactivate, but I was safe in assuming she wasn't going to bother, when leaving me standing there to deal with the armed Security Company assured her an escape in any one of the luxury or sports cars sitting, key in ignition, just outside.

So, if my math was correct -- and it always was -- she was going to beat me out the door by at least two seconds. Assuming of course ... that she noticed and removed the small wood wedge I'd placed between the bottom of the door and the threshold.

She didn't -- as expected -- and when she flipped that last lock and turned the handle, releasing a high pitched sound that was more cackle than laugh, then pulled her weight back to jerk the door open, it didn't move ... of course.

She did though, right back into my awaiting arms.

I didn't normally like to make physical contacts with my clients. If I was, they -- we -- were likely in danger, because I was probably pushing them into the cover of their car or flattening them to the ground as I was pulling my weapon.

But in Annie's case, I was willing to make an exception, for a couple of reasons. First, I wasn't that anxious to have to chase her to one of the other farther doors -- the kind of crap gets old quick -- so it was better for me simply to get a grip on her until I came up with a plan that worked for both of us. And second ... Annie was a bit nicer to make physical contact with than my typical, middle-aged, male client.

Standing behind her, I grasped each of her wrists in and clasped her arms across her breasts, then -- because the line between forcing protection upon an unwilling client and sexual assault is a very gray one --
I very carefully, and very gently lifted her shorter, much lighter bulk just high enough to put her helplessly upon her tippy toes.

Then, I asked politely, "So ... checkers is out then?"

I stand up, pratically running past as quick as I can towards the door, honestly I thought he would be after me alot quicker than that, but who am I to complain, I get to the door, reaching up and starting to undo the locks.

 

[Hannah18]

I smirk slightly as my hands fumble with the last of the locks, I can’t help but feel excited, I hadn’t actually expected my plan to work, after all isn’t he supposed to be a trained bodyguard. I turn my hand sharply allowing the lock the click open, laughing softly I grab the handle and pull it open. I feel myself falling and immediately start to panic, trying to get back up and maintain my balance of course I fail. I close my eyes tightly preparing for contact with the hard ground… but it never comes, I feel a strong set of arms around me and sigh in relief. The relief quickly turns to anger as I feel him take a hold of my wrists.

“Get off” I snap, squirming against him “I could get you fired for that” I mutter, knowing that it is probably not true, yet I can’t help but let myself hope.
I huff loudly as I feel myself being lifted up just slightly, I glance back at him, glaring, looking deep into his eyes
"So ... checkers is out then?" he asks, his tone so polite you would have thought we were actually having a pleasent conversation, I frown slightly realising that will never happen, besides I just wish he would go away it's not like I even need a bodyguard, especially not one like him, I much preffered the old one... I had him wrapped around my little finger, hmm I could always try and convince my dad to get him back, there must be someway I could get this guy fired.

I keep my lips sealed refusing to say anything about his stupid comment "are you going to let go of me now?" I ask eventually.

 

[PNW_Male]

My Way

"Are you going to let go of me now?"

I do, of course, immediately. I lower her from her toes to her soles, relax my mama-bear hug -- that inescapable yet harmless hold a child can't escape from when Mother gives 'em lovin' in public -- and release my clasp around one of her wrists. I lay my free hand upon his hip, still running that gray line between unsolicited protection and copping a feel, and I turn her to face me.

We stare at one another for a moment.

She's such a beautiful girl. Just the kind of girl I would have wanted to date in high school; would have wanted to sleep with in college; would now want to have in the family picture with our kids. But, Annie would have been out of my league in high school; would have been afraid of the world I was exploring during college; and wouldn't be able to handle the uncertainty of my career today.

No, a girl like Annie wasn't likely to happen. And Annie herself? I smile at even the thought of it, which makes her raise an eyebrow, likely wondering what kind of cruel, restrictive thoughts were now going through my head.

She's a teenager, I remind myself: obstinate, argumentative, sneaky, seductive ... perpetually horny; or, maybe that last one was just me at that age, I'm not sure. But, the one thing that is sure is what she'd said to me half an hour earlier when she'd first breached the subject of going to a club with her friends: she will always get what she wants.

Well, my only choice is make her believe that what she wants is what I feel comfortable with giving her.

"We do this my way," I say to her. "My car. My club. My ... environment." I grip her wrist a bit tighter -- not enough, I hope, to hurt her but enough to imply the willingness to hurt her -- and pull her closer to me. "My ... rules."

She doesn't respond immediately, which gives me an opportunity for the or else what before she asks it. "Or, we can sit here all night ... in your Daddy's den--" The second floor study had no window escapes and yet another keyed dead bolt, for which I had already removed the only key "... and play ... Checkers."

She opens her mouth to respond, but hesitates when she catches my eyes dropping to ogle her incredible form.

As with her face, Annie's body is also flawless; perfectly curved -- neither petite nor voluptuous -- firm where it should be, soft where ... well, where it should be.

The dress she'd planned on going dancing in is short -- my mommy would burn it and my daddy would buy me a chastity belt short -- and shows off her athletic, evenly tanned legs well above mid-thigh. It's what we used to call an instant accessibility dress.

"First rule," I continue before she can lash me for my ogling, "Elegance. Not slutty. Try the blue sequins one ... in the right of your closet."

Then I wait; first to see if she is interested in hitting the town under my rules; and second, to see what her reaction will be to my very thorough inspection of every room of the estate, including -- while she'd been off making plans on her cell -- a peak into her vast walk in closet.

I'm tempted to add, and I like the black thong with the little hearts, but don't.

 

[Hannah18]

I feel him realise his hold on me and I’m honestly quite shocked that he had done what I asked him, I had expected him to say no… I watch his facial expressions intently, trying to figure out what is going on in his mind.. probably some other plan to torture me! I can't help but raise my eyebrow in hope that he would explain further, he was so hard to read and work out and oddly enough I wanted to know what he was thinking, but of course he doesn't tell me.

"We do this my way," "My car. My club. My ... environment." he tells me, his larger hand gripping hold of my wrist tightly, not enough to hurt but tight enough that he has my attention "My ... rules." he adds and I have to fight the urge to glare at him, that would probably not help to get what I want. I think it over, surely it wouldn't be that bad to go out with him, he wasn't a bad looking guy and maybe it would make him relax a little more, I am seriously getting sick of it, and he's only been here a day.

"Or, we can sit here all night ... in your Daddy's den--" "... and play ... Checkers." I feel myself starting to give in to him.

"Fine aslong as you actually let me have a fun, look I don't need a bodyguard, I can take care of myself" I say in a huff, feeling my temper start to rise once more, but quickly push it down trying to get rid of my negative thoughts towards him. "And my eyes are up here" I add haughtily catching a glimpse of his eyes roaming my body


"First rule," "Elegance. Not slutty. Try the blue sequins one ... in the right of your closet." I can't help but feel a little shocked that he knows whats in my closet, but decide to remain silent and just ignore that comment.

"so can we go now?" I ask

 

[PNW_Male]

A little privacy? Yeah, what ever.

I escort Annie upstairs, still unsure of whether she is on board with the whole my way or no way plan. Her swing and her step causes her mini-dress to rise, ever so higher, with ever step, until finally the lower hemline is just barely hiding the lower curvature of her fine, pear shaped ass. I wonder whether the presentation is intentional, or simply a fortunate benefit of fine fashion.

As she glances back over her shoulder to me, I turn my attention to the over sized portraits adorning the wall, confirming her suspicion with the thought, Yes, I was in fact staring at your ass,.

I follow her into her room and station myself halfway between the door -- which I close casually, then inconspicuously lock -- and the large window looking out upon what her farmer-turned-businessman-turned-diplomat father referred to as the south forty.

"This place," I explain turning away to give her some privacy, "it's nice ... expensive." I snort to myself and add, "You'll fit right in."

I move a bit closer to the window, sweeping my gaze left, then right, feigning interest in the view, a view I can't see; it's 9pm, pitch black outside, and light in here, so I might as well be looking into a mirror -- which, in essence, I am.

Behind me, Annie stands at the entrance to the walk-in, her eyes on me. She's not an idiot, I tell myself. She knows I'm watching her. The question is ... does she care?

Just to ensure she understood my preference, I repeat, "Blue. Sequins. Third from the right."

 

[Hannah18]

I feel him lead me towards the stairs, and what’s more is I let him, all I have to do is get him to take me out and after that I could ditch him, the plan is perfect. I walk a little ahead of him, when I feel his eyes on me, at least I think that I do, glancing back at him, I see him looking in a different direction and he looks far too innocent for my liking, I know that he was staring at my ass.

Deciding to play nice, I walk ahead of him into my bedroom, looking back in surprise as I notice him follow me in, he wasn’t actually planning on staying here while I get dressed, was he?

"This place," "it's nice ... expensive." he snort before adding "You'll fit right in." now I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that, but I'm sure it was an insult, but I bite my tongue yet again trying my best to be nice, to get what I want.

All this time, I can still feel his eyes on me, I don't know why, surely he couldn't wanted me that way? he must be about twice my age, but what does it matter all he will see me in is my bra and panties anyway. Taking a deep breath I pull the top of over my head, chucking it to the side.

"Blue. Sequins. Third from the right." he says to me, and that is the final straw.

"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself you know" I snap, standing there, my hands moving up to my hips as I glare at the back of his head, roughly pulling the dress over my head

 

[PNW_Male]

Just a different type of sexy

"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself you know."

Unsure whether or not she can see me in the mirrored window as well as I can see her, I suppress a smirk as I think, Trust me, baby, if I were over there, I wouldn't be putting clothes ON to your body.

In the reflection, I see her pull the little party dress up over her head; from behind, and with my view less than optimal, she appears virtually naked, the straps of her dark bra and thong negligible against the back drop of her lightly tanned physique. I'm tempted to turn, take a gander while she is turned, but don't; I reminding myself that this isn't about getting a peak at a beautiful woman, it's about keeping said beautiful woman safe by taking her somewhere that I know the environment, the occupants, the potential dangers.

She disappears into the depths of the walk-in, emerging a couple of minutes later wearing the more elegant dress I'd recommended. I almost turn -- then remember, I'm not supposed to be able to see her. I wait, she clears her throat, I turn; I give her a quick once over -- not an ogle, because I know I'll have all night to do that -- and an appreciative smile.

The dresses have both similarities and differences between them. They each fit her form like a second skin, causing me to suddenly become aware of the slowly building swell below my belt; and yet this dress -- likely extremely expensive, and likely from a world renown designer, not that I would know, of course -- is just what they would expect to see an upstanding young woman wear to The Club on a weekday evening.

"Very nice, Annie," I compliment as I head for the bedroom door, "Very elegant."

I unlock the door, again inconspicuously -- hiding the last of trust that is slowly converting to simple caution -- and open the door in invitation. I give her another up and down glance as she passes by, adding softly, "Very ... elegant."

 

[PNW_Male]

It's Thursday night, so the man at the door is, of course, Victor.

"Peter," he greets me simply. Looking to the young woman beside me, a face he doesn't know -- a relationship he is ignorant of -- he fore goes his usual greeting of Killed anyone recently?

I know the drill, and he knows I know it; he doesn't gesture for me to outstretch my arms for a pat down, and I don't wait for him to ask. He steps up close to me, puts his hands to me. He finds all the usual: the Beretta 9mm under my left armpit; the extra clips under my right; the 5 shot snub-nose Smith & Wesson .38 in the right of my back; the telescopic baton to the left of that. He moves closer, our chests nearly against one another, as he slips his hand higher up my back to find ... nothing.

He backs up, asking cryptically, "Slice?"

I don't explain to him why the big throwing knife usually slung there isn't; and my expression tells him now is really not the time to inquire. And I know he again wishes he could ask the question, Killed anyone recently?

He looks to Annie, scrutinizes her; his expression drifts toward expectancy.

I lean a bit toward her and inform her softly, "He has to frisk you. Sorry."

"Don't worry, young lady," he apologizes before Annie can speak, quickly jabbing a finger toward the surveillance camera over his right shoulder. "My girl's watching that camera, and if my hands wander too much..."

He makes a slicing gesture across his throat.

I laugh, "Yes, and if you can believe it, she's bigger and meaner looking than even he is."

 

[Hannah18]

I look at him and smile softly, feeling his eyes on me and noting his approval “yes well I didn’t do it for you” I say simply, walking past him and down, waiting for him to unlock the front door, as soon as he does, I go straight out, my eyes wandering back to him, as he locks it all up again.

We walk over to the car and I relax back into the comforting leather seats, yet despite the surroundings the drive is long and silent, I turn to look out of the window, watching as we drive further away from the direction of the clubs, I frown slightly, maybe this is just some kind of trick, maybe he really wasn’t taking me out.

All thoughts are quickly out of my mind as we pull up in front of a building, one that I certainly haven’t seen before, and I don’t ask, I just follow him up to the door, where a tall man greets him.

"Peter," the scary looking guy greets him, and thats just fantastic, now I have even less chance of escaping from my physco bodyguard. I watch as his hand roam all over peter's body, obviously checking for something "Slice?" he asks and I look on in confusion, wondering what they are talking about.

Of course peter gives nothing away.. he never does, and from the expression on his face, it's clear that he doesn't want to be asked.

"He has to frisk you. Sorry." peter says leaning towards me, and I just glare at him, what the hell?

"What kind of place have you brought me too?" I snap quietly.

"Don't worry, young lady,""My girl's watching that camera, and if my hands wander too much..." he trails of, his hands making a slicing gesture at his throat causing me to giggle, and oddly enough putting me at ease, I just nod at him.

"Yes, and if you can believe it, she's bigger and meaner looking than even he is." Peter says, and I just roll my eyes at him, obviously not happy.
"I so hate you" I mutter.