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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2016 23:11:36 GMT -5
The sunlight glared through the partially closed curtains of what Thomas figured was a hotel room. The room was fairly nice, with your usual furniture that occupy hotel rooms such as end tables, a dresser, a desk, a small table and chairs in the corner. The room of course also had a mini fridge, which possibly would be half empty if Thomas had occupied it. The room was awful, in Thomas' opinion of course, but he is high maintenance after all.
Dr. Elliot had awoken in a queen sized bed, with simple white sheets. He was bare chested, Thomas then proceeded to look under his covers. Yep! I'm naked, must have gotten lucky. The doctor amused himself. This kind of thing was the norm, love them and leave them fast. It's hoe a million dollar doctor playboy is supposed to live, right? He wasn't;t the relationship type anyway.
He then put one arm behind his head the other rubbing his chest. Where did I even go last night? He surprisingly didn't have a headache like usually he had in these situations. I wonder where the lucky... there it is... Thomas then noticed that someone was in the bed with him.
He then began to grin and yawn thinking of whether to just leave without a trace or face his one night stand. It could be a stone cold fox or it could be a case of coyote ugly. Thomas did play for both teams, so man or woman who knows. Last time a woman claimed to have been pregnant by him after such an encounter. I'll just claim I'm sterile like before, a doctor would know...
Thomas then decided to play along and brave the encounter. But first, nature calls... He then rose out of bed, still nude and made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself while grabbing a small bottle of vodka out of the mini fridge on the way.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Jan 17, 2016 2:19:16 GMT -5
Though Evangelina is fast asleep, a wiggle of the bed that she's in is enough to rouse her. Not suddenly, but just give her body a small hint that perhaps she ought to wake up now. She slowly stirs, opening her eyes to take in her surroundings. She wouldn't say that this is normal for her but, then again, it does happen from time to time. One of her observations is the back side of Mr. Lucky disappearing into the bathroom. The sight causes her to smile. Well, at least she's waking up to someone attractive.
Then again, that's usually the case. Frowning in concentration, she attempts to retrieve her memories of the previous evening. They're hazy, but present - she may have had a bit more than she usually does, but she's no lightweight when it comes to alcohol and she has some restraint. Not like Dr. Rich and Famous, apparently. She'd been (mostly) in charge of her mental faculties last night, and she's not one to try to take advantage of someone who is drunk, but was she going to resist such a man when he came on to her? No, of course not! She just hopes that he's not disappointed to be waking up with her. He shouldn't be - he may be leagues ahead of her when it comes to money in the bank, but she certainly isn't ugly. Quite the opposite in fact.
While he occupies himself in the bathroom, she lingers in the bed - taking a moment to run her fingers through her hair just to ensure that it isn't a horrible mess and rolling over onto her side. She's not dressed, but that gives her all the more reason to stay underneath the covers - not because she's at all shy about her body, but because she'd be cold.
She waits until the door of the bathroom opens again, and when it does she smiles. "Good Morning, handsome," she greets him, "Sleep well?" Not knowing how he feels about where he's woken up, she could feel awkward about the situation, but she doesn't. Instead she attempts to make the situation more comfortable by keeping her greeting friendly and light, as if last night had been intentional on both sides - though not veering into being too familiar and giving him the impression that she's mistaken his intentions. She knows full well that this is just a fling. Then again, if he wanted it to be more than that, she'd consider it, but she's hardly expecting a guy like him to want any such thing - he's out of her league.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Jan 17, 2016 15:34:12 GMT -5
It wasn't that he was an early riser. It was that he rarely slept. Leaving the large bed without waking the two other occupants had been easily executed and he had been able to snag his trousers and shirt to slip from the room. For such a large man it was a beautiful sight to see him move so silently.
Forgoing socks he had knelt to snag his shoes, the small wallet of the blonde catching his eye. He'd caught her name; or at least a name she had given him the night prior. It would be interesting to see if she was really who she was. Flipping through the cards, he nodded to himself, casting a glance at the still slumbering couple, entirely embraced by slumber, spent from the prior night's activities. Replacing the wallet, he resumed his walk to the door, opening it, slipping out, and choosing to put his shoes on in the hall.
He'd be back soon enough.
With a slight click of the door, he did return to the room, sunlight streaming, and clearly, the other two finally awake. Without the fog of alcohol about him, it was a fine sight to see the two without hindrance. She was blonde, not bad on the eyes. The man, well, he was tall, and had a striking pair of blue eyes. And freshly showered. Raising his brows, he didn't want to break the little chat they were having, but neither did he want to see any of their little party go without proper caffination in the morning, either. He'd made a quick detour to the coffee haus on the eighth floor, ordering black coffee, one with sugar, one with cream, and an espresso for himself. Nestled in the cardboard carrier was an empty cup with additional sundries, just in case either of them needed just something-a bit extra.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 20, 2016 22:33:15 GMT -5
Could this bathroom be any more plain than what it is? No taste what so ever... Thomas was the kind of person to appreciate the nicer things in life, apparently the bathroom wasn't up to par. As he finished urinating in the toilet, he then simply flushes, gives him self a look over in the mirror while washing his hands and then it's back to lucky lay of the hour. He didn't bother putting any clothes on. They are going to like what they see, so why bother... Maybe round two? Yea round two! He then chuckled to himself and made toward his exit of the bathroom.
There she was, a blonde beauty casually laying in the bed with the covers still on. Tommy stopped right in the door way. Wow! What a knockout... KO, I'm done! He then began to just stand there, putting his hands on his hips in a proud like stature. "Good Morning, handsome." She greets him. "Sleep well?" What kind of question is that? She trying to play hard to get... Thomas then licked the corner of his mouth, trying to flirt back in some odd way. "As well as you did, beautiful." Then showing a concerned face. "Is someone shy? Don't be sweetie, let me join you under there..."
Just as Tommy went to approach the young woman for another sexual encounter (if that was what took place the night before), the door opens. Thomas is not startled at all, he's hard to fright, standing there in only what mother nature created for him. The person was a man, in dress clothing and he was very well groomed, holding coffees in a cardboard cup holder. Who? Thomas then looked to the blonde and then back to the gentleman. "Who? Wait... did we ?" Thomas then begins to laugh and lets out a sigh. Haven't had a three way in a while, at least he's a looker...
He then grabs the black coffee from the man and begins to sip it. "May I? What a gentleman, isn't he? Mom must be proud..." Winking at Evangelina and smiling at Marc. "So lets get the formalities out of the way... I'm Thomas Elliot... call me Tommy. I'm a doctor who likes Phil Collins and interests from chess, to fine wines to shooting guns. It let's out the stress... " Once again sipping the coffee. "You look like you possibly could be French or a model and named Juliette who likes art and loves her some Walking Dead, cause you just want to be like everyone else.. And you, sir! You could be an Aiden or Robert who is possibly a restaurant owner or an psychiatrist who listens to possibly The Eagles or Tracy Chapman and writes a blog or no has a podcast expressing what's wrong with today's society..."
He then sat the coffee down on a near by dresser. "Probably way off, but hey I tried. Let me slip into something more, more... comfortable?" He said, as he slipped on his boxer briefs.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Jan 22, 2016 22:15:12 GMT -5
Here is the moment where Evangelina finds out something she didn't know before - what Dr. Rich and Famous is like sober. It turns out that he's just as much of a douchebag either way. Well, scratch him off the 'would date him' list then. But that doesn't mean that she wouldn't be willing to go for another round of him - why not? If you're going to have a fling then you might as well make it as big and memorable as possible - at least if you ask her. Perhaps he's better in bed when he has more of his senses about him?
She laughs at his words. "If you want me, come and get me, tiger," she replies, her tone - if anything - making it sound as if that's a challenge. Clearly she's not a shy woman. But even as she's saying that they're interrupted by coffee. Oh, and the man carrying it, of course. "Oh! Coffee! You're a lifesaver!" she says - just because she didn't drink herself senseless doesn't mean that she isn't feeling a bit hungover and wants - no, needs - some caffeine to help counteract the symptoms.
Though she wouldn't brave the cold outside of the covers in order to tantalize someone with her nudity, she will for coffee. In fact, she doesn't bother to make a detour for one of the articles of clothing that have been thrown around seemingly at random - she goes right for the drink. Which, of course, means that both men get ample opportunity to look at her all they like - she has a rather athletic build, as she exercises hard and religiously. She's a woman with a man's job in a man's world and she's determined to make it impossible for anyone to think that she can't do it just as well if not better.
When Dr. Rich and Famous reacts with so much surprise by the arrival of this third party, she can't help but burst out laughing. "Someone doesn't remember what he did last night..." she says as she takes the coffee, her voice a teasing sing-song. With a more normal tone she remarks, "That's a shame - you had a lot of fun!" Once she has the coffee in her hand, she seats herself on the edge of the bed while she drinks it. It may be kind of cold outside of the warmth of the blankets, but the coffee is kind of hot so it balances out. Or at least she can pretend that it does until the caffeine starts to kick in and make her actually feel like doing something with the rest of her day - she's not otherwise in a hurry. She doesn't go out and party like she did last night unless she has the next day off.
Sipping her coffee as Dr. Rich and Famous introduces himself and then goes on to say who he thinks they might be, she looks amused and says, "Ooh, I like that version of me - can we just pretend that you're right?" Yes, clearly he doesn't remember the night before. She'd been perfectly honest about herself last night - which is something that she'd have thought that he'd have remembered. Most people in bars assume that she's lying when she says that she'd both a police officer and a Dominatrix, but her purse has plenty within it to confirm her story. In addition to the ID confirming her name there is also her badge and some business cards in case she runs into a potential client. And a small handgun - the concealed weapons permit is in her wallet.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Feb 2, 2016 5:04:29 GMT -5
If only more Americans were as free as these two. A hearty dose of color does creep up his face as one nude body is displayed, and then another. Coffee really does bring out the best in most people. And the color is not due to the nudity-no. It's the guess of Aiden. It's rather close to his middle name, and a fantastic guess. Each now caffeinated, well-honed body now gets an appreciative glance as he raises his own espresso to his lips.
"Close. Ian is my middle name. And I do not put it past two highly skilled persons as either of you to have such eclectic tastes. And diverse ones." Setting down the cardboard holder he goes to one of the few chairs in the room. It's on it's side, and he bends at the knee in a crouch to right it before setting into it, one leg crossing over the other; ankle to knee. It's almost if he were a King, and glancing over at a well done piece of art. Settling into the chair is precarious; his back still stings where he had been marked the night prior.
"Oh. No need to redress. If anything, I feel I should be the one shedding an article or two of clothing." Raising his espresso back to his mouth, he lets his gaze wander from honed Doctor with a love of Phil Collins and the human body, to their supposed French Model, who he knows is really a member of Gotham's finest, and is more than willing to oblige a willing participant in a favor, when asked politely.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Mar 3, 2016 3:16:56 GMT -5
It really is quite refreshing to wake up after a night like last night and then to wake up to two such attractive men who can be an adult about their adult-level choices even when the sun is above the horizon instead of getting very embarrassed and awkward about the situation. They simply, like she said, had a lot of fun last night. There's nothing wrong with that.
Well, nothing wrong except for the small hangover she's currently dealing with, but she's had worse before. The drink currently in her hand will do much to combat the lingering effects of the drinks that she had last night as soon as it starts to kick in. More focused on getting that precious liquid inside of herself than really anything else at the moment, when the French guy comments on whether or not they should get dressed, she shrugs and comments, "I suppose that all depends on how soon you need to leave. I have the day off from... 'modeling', so it doesn't matter very much to me. What time is it anyway?"
But as she starts to look around for some sort of clock, instead her face suddenly scrunches up. "What the...?" she starts, before shifting herself over on the bed and fishing around in the bedding she was sitting upon until she finds a vibrating cellphone, which she had been unknowingly sitting on. Not hers. "Yours, I'm guessing?" she asks, handing it over to Dr. Rich and Famous. She appears to be correct, and it appears to be important, because he immediately takes the call and heads into the bathroom - likely for some privacy. Well, either that or it's not at all important and he just doesn't give a damn about the people he spent the night with - that's also a distinct possibility.
Either way, she appears unbothered, but that distraction makes her forget that she was checking the time. It doesn't matter anyway - she's not going to do anything else until her cup is empty anyway.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Mar 21, 2016 10:36:02 GMT -5
Americans and their obsession with work. Watching the two interact before him he almost feels like a voyeur. Then again, if anyone watches the populace long enough they could feel those sort of things.
"My boss is a bit of an asshole but I'm fine. No need to leave anytime soon. We have a few choices if you care to continue this-" He doesn't bother to complete the sentence. Instead he waves his hand in the air to illustrate his point. While he had fun last night it did not always coincide with pleasures of the night carrying over into the sun.
And the Doctor. He never placed much worth on someone's daytime occupations. What mattered to him was what they chased when they were free. Was it escape, was it pleasure, was it plain? That is what kept him rapt. Either way his mental ruminations are wasted when such a fine female specimen is before him. She's petite, compact and unabashed. Of course he's known his share of Officers and the pride they take in their appearance. But this 'model's' is beyond that. She's more than just her uniform.
"I hope the beverage is up to par for you, Miss."
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Mar 24, 2016 19:52:57 GMT -5
Just as she did when the other man indicated that he might want to expand a bit on last night's activities, Evangelina doesn't appear to be uninterested. "Did you have anything in particular in mind?" she asks, her eyebrows lifting. Her tone indicates that the question is asked only in curiosity, not because she's concerned that his interests are compatible with hers. She recalls that he was rather adventurous last night, though there's always the question of just how much of that was due to the influence of alcohol. As evidenced by her side-job, she's a strong supporter of allowing everyone to explore their sexuality in whatever direction they find gives them pleasure. As long as nobody gets themselves killed, anyway. So she's rather open and uninhibited, and usually doesn't have to worry about her partner wanting to go in a direction that she wouldn't be interested in. But then again, that's because your average person's sexual tastes are, well, average. Which is why it's usually not a problem when some idiot who doesn't know the first thing about BDSM decides upon hearing that she's a Dominatrix that this is a reason to try to get into bed with her - they probably just want to be tied to the bed or slapped - which is all right by her. What she does with actual clients is quite a bit more intense than that, and your average person would balk at it. Which is just as well, because her own sexual interests are important too, and one thing she's definitely not attracted to is the idea of actually having sex with her clients. Someone displaying that level of submissiveness is a real turn-off, actually. Not that she doesn't find that sort of work sexually stimulating, but it puts her in the mood to find someone else - someone who feels more her equal. Unfortunately she hasn't has a proper outlet for that urge for quite some time. Perhaps this is a part of the reason why she ended up in bed with two strangers last night. When asked about her drink, she glances at it and seems to have to ponder that question for a moment. "Yes, actually it is," she says, sounding surprised. After taking another sip, she laughs a little at herself and comments, "Unfortunately, I've force fed myself enough bad cups of coffee I think that I've picked up the bad habit of ignoring how my caffeine tastes - it's a survival strategy. But this is pretty nice, actually." She then sighs softly and adds, "My head's reminding me how much I drank last night." Not as much as the man in the other room, obviously, but enough to be feeling it now.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 36
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Apr 7, 2016 14:19:49 GMT -5
Considering alcohol is not only his life, but his passion, his very livelihood, Marc is more than able to recall just what occured last night. It always started with a conversation. And then a laugh. And then the beautiful unveiling of a room close enough for them to stumble to.
She reminds him of his university years. Not that he was abroad, but that he had traded his dirt and barefoot life for something more metropolitan. In a way he had shed his skin and embraced that which came to him naturally. Which was adoration and basking in it. She is caged, this blonde, yet unfettered. And clearly is used to driving home her points-willingly, of course. And he can only certain that she is up for more antics if he so inquired. And even if she is an officer of the peace, she certainly has a way with her own handiwork. Shifting ever so slightly in his seat he can already sense his rather intense reliving of the night before is having the proper reactions. Adjusting his posture he now leans his upper arms on his thighs, angled toward her as she enjoys a rather robust cup of coffee, compared to her standard swill. Clearly, as he observers her reaction to a rather simple question he can see she takes care of herself. And takes pride in it. There are standards this 'French model' keeps herself to. And while she seems to dole out punishments, she seems to not be keen on taking them.
Glancing at the bathroom door where there is rather loud talking, and clattering here or there, the good doctor seems to emerge from the room spouting apologies as he has found most of his belongings and is hastily stuffing his shirt into trousers with a toss of a few large bills onto the bed with two different business cards. Waggling his fingers in a gesture reminiscent of 'call me' he's still feverishly on the phone as he exits.
Marc wordlessly watches the man, a slow smirk building on his lips. The good doctor has left, but without one key item. Not that he's going to play his trump card before Officer Bradley-yet. Just because she's a cop doesn't mean she's a rule bender. His gut and back are saying otherwise. Even so he finishes his own espresso and sets the cup down before going to see what exactly was tossed upon the unmade bed. Three hundred dollars-no doubt for the room, as well as two business cards showing that he's of all things, a surgeon. Plastic surgeon Dr. Thomas Elliot, of all things. And from his cursory understanding of Gotham and it's inhabitants, the Elliot family is monied, and tragic. And out of the room.
Going over and locking the door once Elliot is gone, he is already undoing the first few buttons on his shirt before tugging it over his head, the garment tossed to a chair. Tucking half the money into Evangelina's purse, the rest he will leave for a tip. It is his room, afterall. Kicking off his shoes he continues to make his way to her, offering a hand.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Apr 13, 2016 21:30:30 GMT -5
Generally speaking, Evangelina has a pretty high tolerance for alcohol. She might have had quite a bit to drink last night, but she remembers all of the main parts of the evening even if most of the boring and unnecessary details escape her - things that she would normally remember if she'd been completely sober. Though she can't quite remember the words everyone said, she remembers that the conversation had turned in such a direction that they all came to realize that there were three very consenting adults involved in it.
She remembers being somewhat concerned about how much of Dr. Rich and Famous's consent had been influenced by the amount of alcohol he'd been consuming, though at the time he'd been eager enough about it to give her no solid reason to halt the proceedings. As it turns out, she was probably right to be concerned - if he couldn't recall the evening at all, he'd certainly been quite inebriated - but it also seems that those concerns were unnecessary since nobody seems to be particularly bothered by what happened this morning.
As for herself, she now has several new memories that she probably actually will reminisce about in the future. Though unfortunately, those memories are more of a highlight reel - alcohol may be good at lowering one's inhibitions, but there's something to be said for having sex while one is completely sober. Is it better to have more fun at the time or to be able to remember it all clearly later? That's surely a part of the reason why she's so willing to revisit what she did last night again. Though it seems that it will have to be minus one person - when the doctor comes in spouting apologies, she says something to dismiss them as unnecessary and then quietly watches him until he leaves, sipping her drink as if watching a show.
And the moment he leaves, her attention shifts to the remaining man. She watches him as he examines and chooses how to distribute the money left without commentary, eventually getting up to leave her empty cup on the TV stand. When she looks up again, she sees him heading toward her, already preparing for another round of no-strings-attached physical pleasure. She smiles and accepts his offered hand, curious about what his pleasure will be this time, now that it's just the two of them. But that's the fun of a one night stand - the novelty.
Later, after they've both thoroughly satisfied themselves, Evangelina's laying on the bed again - and her head feels so much better than it did earlier! Not only is she basking in the afterglow, more than enough time has passed for the caffeine to really kick in. But unfortunately, it's giving her enough energy to start to consider that there's probably a few actually productive things that she should do today - laundry, bills, and all of those other things she tends to put off until her next day off. But even though she feels better and has things to do, when she moves to get up she's not in any hurry. As she starts to gather up the randomly strewn bits of clothing within reach that happen to belong to her, she glances over at the man she's spent so much time with and smiles before turning back to what she's doing - not saying anything, but definitely quite relaxed. She doesn't venture into either extreme of trying too hard to make it clear that the fact that she's slept with him twice now doesn't mean anything or that she's the one taking it to mean something.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 36
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Jun 12, 2016 4:43:03 GMT -5
If he were a betting man, which he clearly was, this blonde, petite beauty had some sort of European blood in her. The fact she's not asking him a million questions or really saying much of anything is a tune quite fitted to his tastes. He's used to the heavily made up tarts that want to know what he does, when he does it, how much it is, and they never shut up. So for her to willingly take his hand, and not only give, but receive is something to take note of.
Sighing beside her on the rather comfortable bed, his hands fold behind his head, muscles clearly defined by the gesture. To say he's in shape would be a faux pas. He's beyond in shape; he's' a man who has dedicated hours of each day to pushing himself to the limits for years. A man who has toiled in the dirt, and progressed to playing in cities, and skyscrapers. His back aches delightfully; a sensation he hadn't explored nor that had been given to him in ages. Other areas are sore in the best pain possible. Half-covered by the sheet he can feel an odd craving. While he more than dabbles in liquor daily, he'd forgotten the joys of nicotine after an extensive workout. And clearly that is what this could be classified as. Shifting ever so slightly beneath the blanket when she moves from the bed he stretches, toes pointed, muscles flexing before he asks her, in his native tongue without second thought <<"My dear, you wouldn't have a cigarette on you?">> He then untenses and continues to watch as she quietly gathers her clothing.
Again he's reminded of art, a quiet strength to her that is much like sculpture. She was petite, but nothing to squabble with, or about. And a blonde! There was something about them when they were true and not bottled that made it more novel than anything. She was educated. And clearly had a personality he was more than willing to indulge in. And vice versa. Clearing his throat as he realizes he had used the wrong tongue, it really didn't matter as the craving had been fleeting. Nothing would be as sweet on his tongue again if he didn't say anything.
Reaching over the side of the bed to where his trousers are, his wallet is quickly fished from it and dumped into his lap. "If you are going to go, Ms. Bradley, I'd love if you'd indulge me in one final request." As if she hasn't indulged him already, and quite beautifully. "Take my card. And let my driver take you home. It's the least I can do for the joy you've brought me." Is he asking for more? Not exactly. But he's at least being the man his mother raised him to be, and being courteous. Even if she doesn't reach out, he may seek her services in the meantime. And there is no way he'd allow a treasure like her to find her own way home.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Jun 15, 2016 19:42:40 GMT -5
Hearing the question asked, though not understanding the words, she laughs and comments, "Je ne parle pas français." It's literally the only thing that she knows how to say in French, though if you only know how to say one thing in French then that's perhaps the most useful phrase to know. But though her American accent is heavy as she says the words, she at least manages to pronounce it all correctly.
Having gathered all the articles of clothing belonging her that she can find most easily, she pauses to put on her bra and panties once she has located both, even though she's yet to find her skirt. Which she's hoping has simply ended up on the opposite side of the bed, because it seems to be a bit too large of an article of clothing to flat out go missing.
When he speaks again, she's just grabbed her shirt - having decided to put it on as well even if she hasn't found the rest of her clothing, for warmth if nothing else - and after hearing his request she quickly throws it on before she responds. Reaching into her own purse, her hand easily locates the money that he'd tucked into it earlier. Lifting it out if only to remind him that it's there, she comments, "Ah, don't worry about it - I have cab fare."
Tucking it back in, she muses out loud to herself, "Hmm, my car's still at that club..." So she has a pit stop to make before she goes home. Caught up in her thoughts about the rest of her day, she stands and now starts to make a real effort to locate everything of hers that she's not yet located.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 36
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Jun 24, 2016 5:50:49 GMT -5
If he weren't as comfortable as he was, her dismissal of him already knowing her last name would have been questioned. As it is he lets out a short guffaw as he rises higher in the bed. Now he's sitting comfortably watching as she flexes and bends around the room gathering this and that. Clearly her night of indulgence has come to an end. As for him he is more than willing to enjoy the view and as much more time she is willing to give him; paid, or unpaid as it may seem. The fact she can even attempt his native tongue gives him pause. She's not as droll or just to the depth of a pretty face as he thought.
Then again, he'd never thought that. There were small nuances to her body that showed she liked the power, the control. The fact that a dalliance with men was not her preferred-at this moment, choice of lover. Not that it mattered to him. Pleasure was pleasure and with another it was even better. But to watch her now move in such silence, after hearing such commands issued the night prior; he sighed heavily in repose. Such duality in such a pretty package was rare. It was a pity she was turning down the ride.
Especially when her car was still somewhere else. Waving his hand at the money, he could have easily doubled, no-tripled what he had divided from the doctor's hasty exit. Cash spoke a language that not even love or a card did. And it was a language he was quite fluent in. As more and more of her bare flesh was covered, he leaned over his own side of the bed to proffer her lost skirt.
"This is yours?" It wasn't a question, but more of an invitation. If she had to leave, she could. But there were few ways to leave in what could be considered decently, at this time of day, especially after the Doctor had left. Especially with such a pert derriere exposed and nothing to cover it.
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Post by Evangelina Bradley on Jun 29, 2016 19:17:46 GMT -5
Because she didn't comment upon his use of her last name, that can only mean one of two things: either Evangelina failed to notice that he had done so, or she did but didn't react to it. If she did notice, the fact that she didn't react means that she either simply doesn't care or she cares but had another reason not to immediately voice any concerns. And whatever the truth of all of that is, that he expected different from her means that she's not who he assumes her to be.
But that's to be expected, really. Even though she considers herself to be rather open about who she is, one evening at a club and one night and morning of passion is not enough to really get to know a person. Not unless they really are an empty-headed pretty face, anyways. All he really knows about her is what she's like in a club and what's she like in bed. Granted, she's honest enough in both of those that the rest of her life fits in with all of that, but it's still a very incomplete picture nevertheless and all the rifling through her purse in the world isn't enough to fill in the gaps. Then again, each interaction fills in the picture a little more - her dismissal of the use of her last name speaks volumes, as does her preference for a cab instead of a free ride in a private car. Of course, such pieces can be difficult to interpret when so much of the picture is as of yet unknown.
That he watches her get dressed hardly bothers Evangelina - in fact, when she first spots him doing it out of the corner of her eye she smirks to herself. But she's largely preoccupied with her own thoughts about things that are entirely unrelated to where she is and what she's doing. Which is why her expression shifts into a thoughtful frown and tends to stay there, and also explains why she's not especially chatty at the moment. Well, that and because she feels no particular need to talk at the moment.
But just as she's reaching a point to where she really does need to locate her skirt, instead of having to search for it she finds it being offered to her. "Well, it's not yours, honey," she replies to his question as she takes it, "Thanks." Quickly putting it on, she's now fully dressed except for the shoes.
It is, of course, the same thing she wore to the club yesterday - the skirt is light tan and does a really good job of looking like a typical pencil skirt even though it's made of fabric that has a lot of stretch, so it doesn't restrict her movement that much. She's paired it with a mauve, single-shouldered asymmetric blouse and accessorized it with a black and gold belt. Her shoes are a pair of black, open-toed heels with a large ruffle decoration. The outfit is at once flamboyant enough that someone seeing her leaving a hotel might guess at what she got up to last night, but sophisticated enough that she can probably pass herself off as someone that simply enjoys being a bit fancy with their everyday attire once the clue of her exit from the hotel is behind her - especially in a city like Gotham where eccentricity abounds.
Before she subjects herself to her more-cute-than-comfortable footwear, she picks up her purse and heads into the bathroom with it, pulling out a small makeup kit along the way. It's meant only for touch-ups, but it's certainly better than nothing. Closing the door to the bathroom behind her, she first makes use of the facilities - as she hasn't yet today - and then she tackles the task of at least giving the illusion that at some point this morning she had access to her own bathroom. If she can do at least that much, she can avoid any risk of accidentally making some already awkward relationships with certain of her neighbors even more awkward than they already are.
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