Post by Lady Scorpion on May 8, 2005 18:52:29 GMT -8
The girl walked through the dark club, somewhat obscured by the smoke and fog that filled the place tonight. She moved through the crowd, meandering around the club to nod to a person here, and scowl at the occasional drunk that tried to touch her. It was often enough to deter them. Occasionally it took a well placed word.
Her movements seemed random enough, but she had a target on her mind. She had been watching him for a couple of weeks from afar, displeased with what she was seeing, but considering how to use it to her advantage. She had thought on it, and of what she knew of mortal society, and formulated a plan. When she chose for it to happen, the man turned around and nearly ran her over.
She used her femininity to her advantage as she pouted up at him with a slight scowl. He stopped and looked her over with an amused and lascivious smirk. It had been her intent, with the short skirt, the platform heeled boots to her knees, the tightly laced corset, the deliberately dark makeup and the fall of ringlets colored a vivid shade of purple. She was dressed to get his attention, looking much like a slightly smaller version of the women she often saw him with. And it had very much gotten his attention.
He didn’t apologize. She knew he would not. He reached to touch her, leering over her, and she gracefully sidestepped his reach and turned to walk away. She glanced over her shoulder, sheer amusement in her eyes and on her face, and his scowl lifted. He did as she expected and gave chase, following her into the back room.
She stood in the middle of the room, her back to him, a desk with chairs on either side at her left hip. As he approached, she turned around and eyed him, a frown on delicate features. He slowed his step, wondering at this fickle quarry.
She gestured imperiously, something the man had never thought possible from someone so tiny, at one of the chairs and spoke. He didn’t think twice, and was certain he could not have denied her as he immediately found himself seated in the chair. She leaned against the edge of the desk and examined him. He sat nervously, suddenly aware that he was the tarantula hunted by the scorpion. Now this tiny scorpion had him cornered. He could either go down fighting, or wait and hope he was forgotten about. Some deep instinct told him that the choice was his, but she would have what she wanted from him either way.
He studied her in return. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her where. Perhaps he had seen her here before, but he could not be certain. The playful kitten that he had nearly bowled over in the main portion of the club was replaced by someone with a dangerous air. He fought not to squirm under her scrutiny in the eternity of silence that hung between them. She was so tiny that he briefly considered overpowering her before she spoke.
“I have been keeping an eye on you, Drifter. Or, would you rather I call you Doug Atlore?” He jumped and stiffened in his seat as she spoke slowly and with great care, a hint of an accent he could not place. Who was this woman? How did she know his name?
She smiled slightly at the look on his face, and it was not comforting in the slightest. “A few well-placed questions.” Is she reading my….The thought was interrupted by her response as she leaned forward slightly. “As to whether I am reading your mind or not, I will let you ponder that a while. You are smart enough to figure it out on your own when you aren’t ready to shit yourself.”<br>
She was laughing at him. Perhaps not visibly, but she was certainly mocking him. His anger welled up, but it very suddenly stopped. In that room, there was nothing but her. Everything else faded away, and he could see nothing but her, hear nothing but her. At that moment, she was all that existed.
“Your activities in this club are unwelcome, Drifter.” Her fingers caressed a phone on the desk she leaned against. “I could, very easily have you arrested. The owner of this place could press charges, and it could be ensured that you go away for a very long time. Instead, you are going to help me.”<br>
Somehow, Doug – he could not think of himself as Drifter in this woman’s presence – managed to think. He didn’t have to take long when the options were more jail time with an already long rap sheet, or to do as this woman said. He had no doubts that if she chose it, his life would be miserable for years to come. Until she got bored of it, as a matter of fact, and she showed no signs of bluffing. He wondered what she could possibly want from him.
“You have the capability of being of great use to me. Now we are going to talk.”<br>
She sat on the edge of the desk and began the question and answer session.
***********************************************************
Two hours later, Drifter walked out of the club, instruction given to him, and the image of a scorpion burned into his mind where the girl should have been.
He knew he would know if he saw her again, but for the life of him, he could not remember what she looked like.
Her movements seemed random enough, but she had a target on her mind. She had been watching him for a couple of weeks from afar, displeased with what she was seeing, but considering how to use it to her advantage. She had thought on it, and of what she knew of mortal society, and formulated a plan. When she chose for it to happen, the man turned around and nearly ran her over.
She used her femininity to her advantage as she pouted up at him with a slight scowl. He stopped and looked her over with an amused and lascivious smirk. It had been her intent, with the short skirt, the platform heeled boots to her knees, the tightly laced corset, the deliberately dark makeup and the fall of ringlets colored a vivid shade of purple. She was dressed to get his attention, looking much like a slightly smaller version of the women she often saw him with. And it had very much gotten his attention.
He didn’t apologize. She knew he would not. He reached to touch her, leering over her, and she gracefully sidestepped his reach and turned to walk away. She glanced over her shoulder, sheer amusement in her eyes and on her face, and his scowl lifted. He did as she expected and gave chase, following her into the back room.
She stood in the middle of the room, her back to him, a desk with chairs on either side at her left hip. As he approached, she turned around and eyed him, a frown on delicate features. He slowed his step, wondering at this fickle quarry.
She gestured imperiously, something the man had never thought possible from someone so tiny, at one of the chairs and spoke. He didn’t think twice, and was certain he could not have denied her as he immediately found himself seated in the chair. She leaned against the edge of the desk and examined him. He sat nervously, suddenly aware that he was the tarantula hunted by the scorpion. Now this tiny scorpion had him cornered. He could either go down fighting, or wait and hope he was forgotten about. Some deep instinct told him that the choice was his, but she would have what she wanted from him either way.
He studied her in return. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her where. Perhaps he had seen her here before, but he could not be certain. The playful kitten that he had nearly bowled over in the main portion of the club was replaced by someone with a dangerous air. He fought not to squirm under her scrutiny in the eternity of silence that hung between them. She was so tiny that he briefly considered overpowering her before she spoke.
“I have been keeping an eye on you, Drifter. Or, would you rather I call you Doug Atlore?” He jumped and stiffened in his seat as she spoke slowly and with great care, a hint of an accent he could not place. Who was this woman? How did she know his name?
She smiled slightly at the look on his face, and it was not comforting in the slightest. “A few well-placed questions.” Is she reading my….The thought was interrupted by her response as she leaned forward slightly. “As to whether I am reading your mind or not, I will let you ponder that a while. You are smart enough to figure it out on your own when you aren’t ready to shit yourself.”<br>
She was laughing at him. Perhaps not visibly, but she was certainly mocking him. His anger welled up, but it very suddenly stopped. In that room, there was nothing but her. Everything else faded away, and he could see nothing but her, hear nothing but her. At that moment, she was all that existed.
“Your activities in this club are unwelcome, Drifter.” Her fingers caressed a phone on the desk she leaned against. “I could, very easily have you arrested. The owner of this place could press charges, and it could be ensured that you go away for a very long time. Instead, you are going to help me.”<br>
Somehow, Doug – he could not think of himself as Drifter in this woman’s presence – managed to think. He didn’t have to take long when the options were more jail time with an already long rap sheet, or to do as this woman said. He had no doubts that if she chose it, his life would be miserable for years to come. Until she got bored of it, as a matter of fact, and she showed no signs of bluffing. He wondered what she could possibly want from him.
“You have the capability of being of great use to me. Now we are going to talk.”<br>
She sat on the edge of the desk and began the question and answer session.
***********************************************************
Two hours later, Drifter walked out of the club, instruction given to him, and the image of a scorpion burned into his mind where the girl should have been.
He knew he would know if he saw her again, but for the life of him, he could not remember what she looked like.
