The trip to London was fun, corrupting lives along the way, but it was only to pass the time, really. A banker went home to tell his wife he was really gay and wanted a divorce... a house-wife suddenly turned the tables on her husband when she walked into the bedroom in a full dominatrix outfit and told him to 'get on his knees'. Eh, it beats playing cards in a hotel room by yourself.
She called ahead, to be polite, explaining who she was and when she'd be arriving. London seems to be the place to be, and she wants a part of that. She also just -had- to see this club of his.
And so, by the end of the week, she found herself in the back of a taxi, heading toward Phantasmagoria...the place of her dreams, perhaps?
Before long, the cabbie dropped her off in front of the club, giving her a free ride for a...ahem...favour. He went back to HQ with the biggest grin in the world and she arrived at the nightclub energized.
Her footfalls echo through the empty space of the usually packed room as she moves around, looking for Julian, another person, an office door...something. "Hello?" she calls out, peering behind the bar momentarily. Remnants of tonight's partying still appear to be lying about...damn, looks like it was a good party, too. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." she calls, grinning from ear to ear, not really caring who answers her in the mood she's in. All purple and black, mesh and pvc, braids and mini-buns -- she looks to be in her element here.
The club has officially closed... it's the cleaning up period. It begins right after 3 a.m. and continues until 7. One particularly...rowdy..nights, it can take longer.
There are the remnants of glitter, pieces of clothing lost at some point in all the dancing. But there's no music now, and the cages are bare.
But that doesn't mean it's dead...
There are a couple of young women standing around, topless, talking softly to one another. Two of them are embracing. The third, a recent hire, is being tempted into something...
Dot bites her lower lip and smiles, and her lipstick is firmly in place, a brilliant plum just like her hair. She is wearing platinum hotpants, and platform boots of the same platinum. She looks like Leeloo on acid. In fact, she's thinking of making that her stage name. As someone comes in and askes for someone to come out, Dot turns, tattoo around her left nipple, belly button pierced (along with her tongue), and she tips back her head. "Hey... little late... club just closed..."
Must have been one hell of a night. And she missed it...damn. Hopefully she'll get a chance to experience of of these wilder nights sometime soon. She's heard promising things about this place.
Dark eyes flicker toward the movement and voices as she adjusts her heading on that direction. She grins wickedly as Dot turns about, replying clearly, "Well, I can see that. I'm Nain." Her hand is thrust out toward Dot as she moves closer and a little more rapidly to close the gap. "Julian's expecting me..."
Plum lips pucker. Oh really. I work here and can't even get an audience. Dot looks you up and down, then smiles. "C'mon in then," her accent is decidedly East End, but it's not her native accent. Her Knight father and Dame mother would be so ...proud to see her now. She turns to her two companions and murmurs something. They wiggle their fingers at her and then, arms around one another's waist, turn and head off. To a back room. Or maybe one of the 'apartments' here.
Some of the girls just stay. I mean, who wants to leave...
The buzz arrives before him. It's early in the club's morning cleanup, and often, most are found in other rooms, other places, biding their time. Sleeping it off, smoking it off, screwing it off. However it goes, after closing is when most of the regulars are most scarce.
Yet the buzz comes.
It precedes him, suddenly down on the ground floor of the club. Not in his private apartments. In plain view before ten am. He's managed to shower, that's for sure, and black hair sticks to his face. The towel still remains around his neck, and a hand lifts a corner to his face. Listening to a man beside him, Julian nods, as if in the midst of some business. Surely not, though, for this hour is not the time to deal with problems.
But wait. There's some girl, and someone else with her. Julian pauses, free hand waving off the young man frantically talking with him.
"Stop," Julian says, the grey slacks still unbuttoned. A mere formality. "Talk to me later about it," he says, towel skimming the brow above his lavender eyes. He looks rather drained, padding around in bare feet. "Where's..." but the sentence goes unfinished. Nevermind. He sighs and goes forth towards the guest, leaving the young man and a few others in their spot. Dismissed, as it were.
Julian's eyes narrow as he walks on. Not anger, but annoyance? Frustration at the end of the day. Low Essence will do that to a man. A diabetic on a low.
"You actually showed," he states, coming to a halt an arm's length away.
Dot is an ...well, shall we say it? ... an aspiring performer. She's been trying to catch his eyes for weeks now, still no real indication of whether he really liked her work or not, although Ms. James always has lovely things to say. Still, she wants to be a star, this one...
Even if it's the wrong kind of star...
"Well, I guess," Dot begins, twisting her plum and platinum self about to had off. "...you won't need directions, sweetie-darling," she says to Nain. "Night Mr. Kane," she says with a lazy smile -- she's worn out actually. Her voice not quite a purr. She turns, bending and picking up someone's discarded t-shirt. Much too small for her. It barely covers her enhanced bodaciousness. But...that's the way Dot likes it.
"Morning..." damn, what's her name, "...Dot." Yes, that's it. Dot. Right. Thank goodness for my sweet Samantha.
"So," Julian says, as if expecting a reply instantly. Hands come to rest on his waist. "Welcome to London." What do you want?
Nain's amusement turns to something a little less enthusiastic as she turns toward that buzz, toward that voice. Nodding almost distractedly at Dot, she nods, her hair bouncing a bit with the movement. "Yeah...looks like it," she replies, looking back at Julian.
Not quite the reception she had hoped for, but she's been in worse predicaments, surely.
"Mr. Kane, pleased to meet you. Of course I'd show...I said I would, didn't I?" she replies with a grin, trying to keep things light, if that's possible. "Well, I was speaking with our mutual friend, saying I was coming to London... he said you were here, and I figured I should check in, meet you, see where I can fit in. You know, the usual."
"Just Julian," he says, glancing up and down. "I know what he said," that dear friend, "...and he...neglected to mention...I don't like geases, and I'm not interested in making my life here terribly complicated." Isn't that the standard Lilim way? "Feel free to visit, but keep business and arrangements out of the club," brow raising, as if to say, 'understood?'. "I'd hate," he smiles, "...to see my work undermined in a wash of commitments that they can't fulfill."
"And if I find that they've somehow become...obligated," to you, well, Julian doesn't finish the statement. He simply stands there, another hour from morning's rejuvenation.
Testy, no?
Maybe he'll be better in a few hours.
That's the problem with trusting Pharzuph. He never knows what the hell he's talking about. Snippets of half-truths and sketchy details become fact to him. What difference does it make, anyway...
She purses her lips. No, he didn't quite understand her...and she realizes he's being impatient due to the hour and other circumstances. The geas thing could be a problem considering what she wanted to offer, but she tries anyway.
"Well, okay, I was actually coming here to ask you to your face if I could work for and with you somehow, but... maybe I've just come at a bad time," Nain comments with a shrug, shifting slightly where she stands. She looks toward the door, then back and says, "I will leave and never come back if you ask it, but.. I'd really rather try to work something out to both our benefits."
Alright, alright. Julian sighs and moves over towards one of the side sofas where patrons, err, sit. No, he's not thrilled right now, but it doesn't mean he should be rude. "You've come late in the day," he reminds, plopping himself down upon a velvet seat. Legs splayed and eyes closed, his head falls upon the back of the sofa. "What are you talking?" he asks directly. He breathes gently, trying to calm himself. Around his neck, the white towel rises and falls with each inhale and exhale.
"Yeah, I got delayed." She doesn't go into details about why. "I have to apologize about that. Mostly, I just wanted to pop in to meet you, then find out when was best for you to discuss things. See, this is a kind of place I could honestly come to love hanging out at. I could have fun in the cages, on the dancefloor...you name it, and I think I could find fun in it."
She leans against a nearby chair as she continues, "However, if I'm going to do something like that, I might as well do it for a reason...and for the most benefit. It could benefit me... but mostly, I wanted to know how my services could benefit you. If you have a serious problem with geases and we can't work around it, I won't bother you further. But... I came here to help how I can, and help as many as I can." There is a brief pause, then she says, "I won't lie to you. It is for selfish reasons I want to be here. But if more than just myself can take advantage of some kind of arrangement, then why not?" She shrugs a little and offers a bit of a lopsided smile to you.
While all this goes on, so does the cleanup. The club still hums with the last techno beat, the voices of those who work here. There are steps above on the catwalk. A pair of heels. Some of the ...dancers...heading out of the exclusive room?
Everyone has to sleep ...eventually... even the oversexed...
Julian's eyes blink and an incredulous look zips across his features. Eyes narrow, and his expression moves to disbelief. "Right. Admittance of selfish reason." You're a demon, his face says. What the hell else reason would you have?
Julian shakes his head, as if to clear his ears. He glances at the emerging dancers, but then settles again. Whatever he was looking for, wasn't there. "Let's say this. My previous statement stands. I'm not going to have a worked for a herd to be swallowed up in promises to someone else. But right now, maybe I'm not in the best mood to talk about this. It's a free world, stay if you want. Leave the situation ad hoc for now. But at the moment, I seem to be doing well by myself, thanks." Riiiight. Julian pushes himself to standing, skeptical glance given.
"Look, if you need a room until you get settled," American, that voice, "...there's a room available. I can get someone to show it to you. Bedroom, bath ensuite, okay? We can talk another time." When I'm not on my last legs. Ooh, you planned that, didn't you?
Lord Andrealphus, I try. I promise. But, Lilim? Here?
Shrugging a bit, Nain murmurs, "Sounds fair. It's your place, your rules." Pushing away from the chair a bit, she looks at a watch on her wrist and says, "Yeah, this is why I didn't really want to talk business just now, so I appreciate you're willing to see me later. If nothing else, it was good to meet you." Showing up on a guy's doorstep nearly unannounced and certainly not invited couldn't really have gotten her a better reception, surely.
Nodding, she says, "Thanks for the room. That'd be great." She looks around, realizing that this meeting didn't quite go as well as she had hoped...but that it was a start, at least.
"God... I'm the walking dead," comes the voice of a woman. American accent harsh among the British usually heard here. But her voice is nice enough. Kind of sweet but throaty. And she's clothed. Sort of. She's in her "party gear", which consists of a velvet jumpsuit and wide black and silver belt. Think Elizabeth Hurley. Her hair's been cut and the plum-red's been changed in for walnut brown. Her natural color, as Julian could tell you. The jumpsuit's cut down to her belly button. The boots are stiletto.
Samantha James stretches as she walks, sighs a purring sigh then: "Oh... sorry, Jules. I didn't know you were busy..." And she gives Nain an appraising look. Do I know you?
Samantha smiles wearily to the "guest" and her arms snake around Julian's shoulders. "Hi," she murmurs, mouth to his ear. "Shall I wait for you in the room?"
In an instant, Julian's expression changes. A small smile curls his lip, and an arm extends to the approaching woman. When she presses against him, his arm coils around her waist. "Hi," he says, "...and no, I'm ready to go."
"Sam, this is..." what did Pharzuph say, "...Nain." Not that he'd used her name yet. "She's a friend of a friend." Not much more information given than that. "She may stay here a couple of nights while she finds herself a place in the city."
She is tall, curvy, lovely. And horribly mortal. She gives that off with every glance and smile. No, nothing out of the ordinary here. Samantha straightens, a glance from Julian to the guest. "Nain... pleased to meet you. Samantha James. Ah, and sure," she says brightly, "..we can find her something. We have several rooms free, no worries. Let me ring Isis," she says, bending and reaching into her boot. Aha. A tiny cell phone. "I'll have her get it ready..." She steps just a bit away, to let you both wrap it up.
"Isis.. Sam... say, we have a guest, need one of the rooms. How about ...right... oh super. She's in the main club. It would be great if you could show her to it... aw, you're so sweet..."
Dark eyes focus on Samantha as Nain nods to her, murmuring, "Nice to meetcha, Sam." She straightens a little and adds to Julian, "So, I'll check in again soon, at a better hour. Thanks again." She then falls silent, letting Sam make the appropriate arrangements. She's kept Julian too long and she knows it.
There's a nod from Julian, as he sighs and pulls at each end of the towel around his neck. Biceps form in the release of tension, and he decides to head onward, giving Sam a pat on her back when he passes. "Tomorrow," Julian waves over his shoulder, a last attempt to be social. However, it's not working. He sighs again, expended for the night. A saunter it is, more than likely directly to his private rooms and a short few hours of sleep.
One of the girls, who moved quickly through the ranks of performers to housing assistant, appears. Must be Isis. A wonderfully shaped young woman, what one can see of it, for she's dressed quite professionally, with ringlet curls piled up and held by chopsticks of ebony. She's caramel complected and at least six feet in height. Even if she weren't wearing heels.
"Isis, this is Nain. An associate of Julian's. She's going to be staying for a few nights..." a glance to Nain, a glance to the departing Julian. And she starts to rush. "If you'd be a dear and see to her. Nain... a pleasure. Thanks," she whispers to Isis as she follows in Julian's wake.
Isis smiles and makes a motion toward you. "If you would please follow me," her accent, Somalian... if one were experienced with such an accent. Light.
Another bob of her head sends her rainbow hair bouncing again, several of the buns threatening to come loose. Well, it was a long trip afterall. Nain focuses on Isis and the promise of a room, leaving Sam and Julian to themselves. There will be time enough tomorrow.
And so she follows Isis silently...she's caused enough trouble for one night.
Posted by rowan at September 03, 2003 10:40 PM
