couples_therapy 74.1. Whisper.
Theoretically, there should be age restrictions on clubs. Even she knows that. So do the bouncers.
Theoretically.
She has the entrance fee cash; she looks good, a lollipop between her lips that she takes out and licks at the shorter one. He looks her over and she smiles widely. He likes her smile. (He doesn't see the madness barely held behind it.)
She doesn't care that much for the booze, although sometimes that's good, too. Not tonight. Tonight, she wants to let go in the sound penetrating every fiber of everything and everyone inside, let her body writhe among the rest, and let the build up go down a notch.
Doesn't want to be taken to the hospital again. Sometimes, she can't help it. This time... maybe she can. If she can yell and shout and do stuff before it's too much and she turns on somebody...
... it feels good. Girls and boys around her, older than her, but all of them buzzing high--
"Hello, gorgeous."
Her head snaps around. Incredible as she might have thought it, he actually whispered, so close was he to her.
"What do you want?"
"I've noticed you around... and I kinda like you. Wondered if you might be interested in something more... special."
"Don't feel like drugs."
He laughs. It is sort of wheezy, but he looks not too bad, overall. Handsome. Decently clothed. She supposes one would look like that when he wasn't stealing clothes. "It wasn't what I had in mind, although you might change your mind about that later... there."
She stands still for a moment, trying to calm herself down and think.
It's difficult.
"Why?"
"Why? Well. Like I said, I like you. Besides, rumor is Bianca's likely to pick you up for her place sometime soon. Figured I wouldn't be able to afford you then. Not for a while, at any rate. And you might not get to go where I can take you... for a while."
Her mind reels. Bianca. Madame. Beautiful as the night, and only seen in the night. She hasn't been actively looking for something like that. But it would possibly mean regular employment. Food. More decent medications.
Unless she got to be one of the girls who never came out. She's not been around Chicago's streets too long, but she's heard about that.
"So. How about it?"
"How about what?"
"Zero."
Her eyes widen, and she straightens. "You can get into Zero?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And you can get me in?"
His grin is... hungry. "Oh yes. On one condition."
"What?"
"What's your name."
What is it with this man? Maybe she is too confused to understand what he's about, what he wants. She turns and starts weaving her way towards the exit. And throws over her shoulder, "Justine."
~~~
Zero was like everything she had imagined, everything she had heard. And nothing like it at all.
It was a place where things that usually mattered were ignored, where wrong and right didn't seem to matter and it was all complete abandon.
She fitted in decently well with that. There were huge empty holes where her excesses could be poured out. And Timothy had been correct, she could later change her mind about drugs.
Several times.
Or not.
It didn't matter. Nobody judged what you would be doing.
They'd just want. And take. Or offer. Or both. And in the dull, black lights throb, she was invisible and free to be insane. They all were.
The first night, it was difficult to get her in, despite what he'd said. It was easier the next time.
She was holding the bars of a cage, above most of the place, half snarling, half moaning when he entered.
It was a soft, but ostensible electrifying wave, more than anybody saying anything. But there were gasps in a lull in the music, and she looked down to where the source seemed to be.
He looked around with a wide, glorious smile, as though he owned the place. Around, and up and down. And when his eyes met hers for a moment, and then another, her lips parted, the snarl drowned in a tide of desire. Even if he was so far away she couldn't make out the color of them, she knew the invitation pulsing through her.
She liked gray, she found.
And preferred white to red.
Muse: Justine
Fandom: The Dresden Files (novels)
Partner: NPC; Thomas Raith (canon)
Word count: 728
Theoretically.
She has the entrance fee cash; she looks good, a lollipop between her lips that she takes out and licks at the shorter one. He looks her over and she smiles widely. He likes her smile. (He doesn't see the madness barely held behind it.)
She doesn't care that much for the booze, although sometimes that's good, too. Not tonight. Tonight, she wants to let go in the sound penetrating every fiber of everything and everyone inside, let her body writhe among the rest, and let the build up go down a notch.
Doesn't want to be taken to the hospital again. Sometimes, she can't help it. This time... maybe she can. If she can yell and shout and do stuff before it's too much and she turns on somebody...
... it feels good. Girls and boys around her, older than her, but all of them buzzing high--
"Hello, gorgeous."
Her head snaps around. Incredible as she might have thought it, he actually whispered, so close was he to her.
"What do you want?"
"I've noticed you around... and I kinda like you. Wondered if you might be interested in something more... special."
"Don't feel like drugs."
He laughs. It is sort of wheezy, but he looks not too bad, overall. Handsome. Decently clothed. She supposes one would look like that when he wasn't stealing clothes. "It wasn't what I had in mind, although you might change your mind about that later... there."
She stands still for a moment, trying to calm herself down and think.
It's difficult.
"Why?"
"Why? Well. Like I said, I like you. Besides, rumor is Bianca's likely to pick you up for her place sometime soon. Figured I wouldn't be able to afford you then. Not for a while, at any rate. And you might not get to go where I can take you... for a while."
Her mind reels. Bianca. Madame. Beautiful as the night, and only seen in the night. She hasn't been actively looking for something like that. But it would possibly mean regular employment. Food. More decent medications.
Unless she got to be one of the girls who never came out. She's not been around Chicago's streets too long, but she's heard about that.
"So. How about it?"
"How about what?"
"Zero."
Her eyes widen, and she straightens. "You can get into Zero?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And you can get me in?"
His grin is... hungry. "Oh yes. On one condition."
"What?"
"What's your name."
What is it with this man? Maybe she is too confused to understand what he's about, what he wants. She turns and starts weaving her way towards the exit. And throws over her shoulder, "Justine."
~~~
Zero was like everything she had imagined, everything she had heard. And nothing like it at all.
It was a place where things that usually mattered were ignored, where wrong and right didn't seem to matter and it was all complete abandon.
She fitted in decently well with that. There were huge empty holes where her excesses could be poured out. And Timothy had been correct, she could later change her mind about drugs.
Several times.
Or not.
It didn't matter. Nobody judged what you would be doing.
They'd just want. And take. Or offer. Or both. And in the dull, black lights throb, she was invisible and free to be insane. They all were.
The first night, it was difficult to get her in, despite what he'd said. It was easier the next time.
She was holding the bars of a cage, above most of the place, half snarling, half moaning when he entered.
It was a soft, but ostensible electrifying wave, more than anybody saying anything. But there were gasps in a lull in the music, and she looked down to where the source seemed to be.
He looked around with a wide, glorious smile, as though he owned the place. Around, and up and down. And when his eyes met hers for a moment, and then another, her lips parted, the snarl drowned in a tide of desire. Even if he was so far away she couldn't make out the color of them, she knew the invitation pulsing through her.
She liked gray, she found.
And preferred white to red.
Muse: Justine
Fandom: The Dresden Files (novels)
Partner: NPC; Thomas Raith (canon)
Word count: 728