I had spent the better part of an entire night in the umbra. I had started to notice some characteristics that were not common for me. Displays of emotions in the past two weeks or so. First with Rainbow Cupcake and then at the pirate themed party with River and Starla. It was a weak correlation at best, just because Starla started with S, and had the same number of letters in her name, and could be tied to the sky above my very head, didn't mean anything. But why did the shadows think otherwise? Why was I forced to leave the party before anyone got hurt?
So I went there and wandered and recollected myself. I felt...a release after a while. I guess you could call it that. In the pit of my stomach. It twist and turned and felt tight with each step I took. Slowly my body started to relax, from the inside out. As I was there, wandering by myself in the dark eternal abyss, I pushed all that aside. I pushed aside the last few months. I pushed aside the last few years. I recalled the things I used to do and the things I missed. I would focus on those things again and everything would be as it was. Everything would once again be comfortable and normal when I returned. I kept telling myself this over and over, ever four steps I took. Things can be the way they were once again. It became a sort of chant. An internal chant that no one would hear or acknowledge. Not that I needed anyone to hear it or acknowledge it. I do not care about other people or what they think about me. It's that simple.
I made a list of things to do while I was there. The first thing would be to clean the apartment. Clean it out. I'm still deciding if I will sell it. I don't feel like I need to sell it, but at the same time, what was my space became 'our space,' and I don't think it can come back from that. I will determine that later, after I put aside the things that are not mine in however many boxes it took and then dropped them off at a bar I would never have to step foot in again. Elliot won, I had a sneaky suspicion he always would, and that's that. It's just that simple. I'm not keeping someone else's crap at my place. She's with him, so he can have her crap. Once I do that, I will send her a severance cheque, to the same location I drop her stuff off at, and her space will be cleared. It will become someone else's space, should I decide to hire someone else. That is debatable. I can handle the work load fine, but gave her a job because....because she wanted it. I shake my head and decide that I won't be hiring someone else to do the job I am capable of. Which means no one else will need to enter one of my many spaces. This one being my professional space. A handful of people get to enter that realm. Only one or two get to ever go beyond that in my personal space. There will be other things to do, such as notifying people of the changes in my life, but I will not be answering any questions or talking about those changes. It's not their business. I am only telling them so that I don't ever have to have a question about her tossed at me again. I'm honest, even if shortly honest.
When all these plans are made and designated in order of importance, I focus on what is ahead of me. There is a battle when I get back. Tytonidae is taking another territory from someone. Who doesn't matter and yes, I did mean it as it's said. Tytonidae is taking another territory. It will be ours, I, along with the others that come with will see to it. There will be no one walking away except for us. Then, I have an order to finish before the weekend. I might open up another business, something to do with blood. The vampire kind. I'm debating it and should probably talk to Velveteen about it. Though it's my business and my project, I don't want something that might not be a good idea to come back on her or Tytonidae. I like to keep things very separate in those regards.
Just as I'm thinking about how to approach it to Velveteen; the woman I see not only as a leader figure, but as a sire figure, I find myself right back in my apartment. In my bedroom to be precise. I was in the umbra longer than I expected, and it forced me out by whatever magical force that drives those that aren't really dead, but disguised as such out. It seems to know it's not normal or natural and kicks fadewalkers out for whatever reason.
I'm right back on my bed, staring at the plain white ceiling, with my arms under my head. Just like before I left. I'm used to this by now. I know the routine. I know that if I return when the umbra pushes me out, that I'll be right where I started, so instead of being in some public place, I picked my own place so I could grab some clothes right when I got back and not be stuck out in public with my dick hanging out. Not that I would care, but laws apparently are made and people frown at that. Like it's good for anything anyways.
I don't waste any time sitting up and kicking my feet over the side of the bed. My feet hit the wood floor, which is noticeably cold, but it doesn't bother me. I'm not going to die from being cold, am I? I move to the closet, but pause and **** my head to the side. Feed first, then clothes. It makes sense. I get the blood, then get clothes and start pulling the female's clothes from the closet right after. I shuffle out of the bedroom and move to the kitchen, while the dog scrambles from the kitchen to the bedroom. “Missed you too.” I give him the bird after I snort, then yank open the door to the fridge, illuminating the kitchen and my body in the dark. The only light I had left on is in the bedroom next to the bed, so every other room, including this one is dark. I'm conservative on resources in as many ways as I can be.
I grab the jar of blood from the top shelf with one hand, the other goes for the mason jar lid and unscrews the top before I bring it to my lips and tip my head back. The **** was expensive and a route I seldom took, but since I wasn't planning on leaving tonight...So not so fresh vampire blood it was. I chug every ounce of it out of the mason jar can, then bring my arm over my lips and wipe the arm across them. I set the jar on the counter, then grab for my pack of Marlboro Menthol's, the lighter and poke one out of the pack and put it between my lips. I flick the plastic piece of crap twice and it lights, then bring it to the tip and puff twice. I toss the lighter down, grab it for a second time and toss it again. “Don't get too comfy.” I warn the dog before I lean back against the counter and enjoy my first cigarette in more than twenty-four hours.
Don't Touch (Invite)
-
Roderic
- Registered User
- Posts: 3014
- Joined: 05 May 2013, 02:32
- CrowNet Handle: We Regret To Inform U
-
Dominique
- Registered User
- Posts: 1047
- Joined: 27 Mar 2013, 22:19
- CrowNet Handle: Batgirl
- Location: Vita Bella
- Contact:
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
HOPE tapped out another text to the number that was still likely getting flooded with the last twenty she sent. It was really annoying. The waiting game. And right now it was a game she was resenting. She had at least thirty things she could be finishing up back at the shop. Wait. Make that forty. Three of those was picking up Chinese Take-out before the place closed for the night, a package of stick-ups because Hello Kitty was having one hell of time staying out of the garbage and last but not least she needed papers. Rolling papers specifically because she liked to roll it up tight instead of using the bongs or bowls. It was all about convenience. And the last hour she had spent on the sofa beneath her *** waiting was a prime example of inconvenience. She was calling Webster’s Dictionary when she got home and would sent them the selfie she took while sitting and waiting.
-I mean it. I give this guy fifteen more minutes and then it is on you to deliver. I am inside some strange dark apartment that I had to wiggle my nose and snap my fingers to get into only to be left sitting on a sofa that smells like it needs a bath. And to top it off no one in sight. Are you ******* happy, Foster?-
Make that twenty one texts now sent. The tattooed thumb with half of a shark inked into its flesh tapped hard on the screen. Hard enough that a set of ears perking up and a canine’s head cocking a little to the right in response. She watched it sitting in the middle of the living room while staring at her like she was the one responsible for performing tricks to entertain it. It just wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t happen with the animal kingdom hanging in Vita Bella and it certainly wasn’t going to happen in some apartment she had not been to before and likely wouldn’t be. Especially now that she had to sit and wait an hour longer than she planned.
Just as she started to move to get up and take the box she was responsible for delivering is when something stirred in the back of the apartment and caught her attention. It was about god damned time. Her fingers went to work against the dim iPhone screen. Seriously? All this time the guy was sawing logs in the back? Once she got the signature from Sleepy himself she was going to toss him his package and then go find Foster which was basically like playing a live version of “Where’s Waldo.”
-Never mind. I hear movement. It just cost you an extra $200 for your buddy to sleep in. Even his dog was tired of waiting for his *** to rise and shine. Later-
Once the message was sent Dominique leaned forward and pocketed the cell and pulled the box and the receipt needing a signature to her lap. It was at that point that the dog moves like a bolt of lightning struck it’s backside and it disappears where the sounds seem to be gravitating from. Pressing her lips into a thin hard line that was void of any amusement she watched the body that was au naturale pad across the distant space and into kitchen. A finely groomed black brow seemed to rise over her left eye with every step it took. Deep in her front pocket a text arrived she was too distracted by the unexpected one man naked parade moving through to bother checking. If only she had. If only...
-Jesus, Dom? What dog? Where the **** are you?-
The male appears to have a great rapport with his supposed best friend as sign language via middle finger was added to the rather colorful greeting. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She was all too done with the waiting game. There was ten minutes left on the window for her crab rangoons and shrimp fried rice. Simple as it was she craved it along with .... the fridge light illuminated Mr. Sunshine and it was bright enough to light him up in the most serious way.
While he consumed the much needed fluid it sent a sweetness to the air it left no question as to what it was that replaced the typical citrus-pick-me-up a typical human could be looking for upon rising. A burst of minimal light erupted from the lighter and the scent of a cigarette first burn called even deeper to her senses. There was always that memory that would remain so vivid. The scent that reminded her of too much to dwell on at that moment. She was irritated. Her *** and the back of her thighs likely had the light indents of texture pressed into her skin from sitting too damn long waiting for his John Hancock on a slip of paper.
Standing up she didn’t even sweat over if he had some weapon nearby. He was expecting her and really if he wanted to act funny over it...it was he that was going full frontal when he was supposed to be getting a delivery. She gave the curious look down because it was there then inhaled the scent of smoke as she finally set eyes on his.
“Evening, Sunshine. I got your package.” She raised both brows, tilting her head a bit to the right while taking a second look down then bouncing her eyes back up. “When you got a moment to spare why don’t you make yourself useful and just sign this here piece of paper.”
HOPE balanced the medium sized package in it’s palm with ease while LESS offered up the receipt if the vampire was willing to step forward to close the distance and take it. If he made any effort to do any Bruce Lee moves then she was more than ready to counter and Chuck Norris his *** into his fridge and call it delivery made.
-I mean it. I give this guy fifteen more minutes and then it is on you to deliver. I am inside some strange dark apartment that I had to wiggle my nose and snap my fingers to get into only to be left sitting on a sofa that smells like it needs a bath. And to top it off no one in sight. Are you ******* happy, Foster?-
Make that twenty one texts now sent. The tattooed thumb with half of a shark inked into its flesh tapped hard on the screen. Hard enough that a set of ears perking up and a canine’s head cocking a little to the right in response. She watched it sitting in the middle of the living room while staring at her like she was the one responsible for performing tricks to entertain it. It just wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t happen with the animal kingdom hanging in Vita Bella and it certainly wasn’t going to happen in some apartment she had not been to before and likely wouldn’t be. Especially now that she had to sit and wait an hour longer than she planned.
Just as she started to move to get up and take the box she was responsible for delivering is when something stirred in the back of the apartment and caught her attention. It was about god damned time. Her fingers went to work against the dim iPhone screen. Seriously? All this time the guy was sawing logs in the back? Once she got the signature from Sleepy himself she was going to toss him his package and then go find Foster which was basically like playing a live version of “Where’s Waldo.”
-Never mind. I hear movement. It just cost you an extra $200 for your buddy to sleep in. Even his dog was tired of waiting for his *** to rise and shine. Later-
Once the message was sent Dominique leaned forward and pocketed the cell and pulled the box and the receipt needing a signature to her lap. It was at that point that the dog moves like a bolt of lightning struck it’s backside and it disappears where the sounds seem to be gravitating from. Pressing her lips into a thin hard line that was void of any amusement she watched the body that was au naturale pad across the distant space and into kitchen. A finely groomed black brow seemed to rise over her left eye with every step it took. Deep in her front pocket a text arrived she was too distracted by the unexpected one man naked parade moving through to bother checking. If only she had. If only...
-Jesus, Dom? What dog? Where the **** are you?-
The male appears to have a great rapport with his supposed best friend as sign language via middle finger was added to the rather colorful greeting. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She was all too done with the waiting game. There was ten minutes left on the window for her crab rangoons and shrimp fried rice. Simple as it was she craved it along with .... the fridge light illuminated Mr. Sunshine and it was bright enough to light him up in the most serious way.
While he consumed the much needed fluid it sent a sweetness to the air it left no question as to what it was that replaced the typical citrus-pick-me-up a typical human could be looking for upon rising. A burst of minimal light erupted from the lighter and the scent of a cigarette first burn called even deeper to her senses. There was always that memory that would remain so vivid. The scent that reminded her of too much to dwell on at that moment. She was irritated. Her *** and the back of her thighs likely had the light indents of texture pressed into her skin from sitting too damn long waiting for his John Hancock on a slip of paper.
Standing up she didn’t even sweat over if he had some weapon nearby. He was expecting her and really if he wanted to act funny over it...it was he that was going full frontal when he was supposed to be getting a delivery. She gave the curious look down because it was there then inhaled the scent of smoke as she finally set eyes on his.
“Evening, Sunshine. I got your package.” She raised both brows, tilting her head a bit to the right while taking a second look down then bouncing her eyes back up. “When you got a moment to spare why don’t you make yourself useful and just sign this here piece of paper.”
HOPE balanced the medium sized package in it’s palm with ease while LESS offered up the receipt if the vampire was willing to step forward to close the distance and take it. If he made any effort to do any Bruce Lee moves then she was more than ready to counter and Chuck Norris his *** into his fridge and call it delivery made.
-
Roderic
- Registered User
- Posts: 3014
- Joined: 05 May 2013, 02:32
- CrowNet Handle: We Regret To Inform U
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
I smell an unfamiliar scent before the owner moves or says anything. I hadn't at first. Not with the smell of the damn dog, its food and the nicotine stick in my hand. It's not like I was expecting company, so I had let my guard down. Lesson learned. Always, always grab my really big sword no matter where I am. Though, there are weapons in here...I glance at the silverware drawer casually, knowing there were eight butter knives, eight forks and eight spoons. With the first sixteen I could manage to do a little bit of hurting, or at least slow someone down. The spoons? Well, she did have eyes. Removing them would slow her down significantly.
I miss the first glance down at my junk, not that I would care. It's a dick. Who cares? It's the least needed appendage on me, and most of all any male vampire, I believed. Her eyes are on mine and then she tells me she's got my package. I catch her glancing down at 'my package,' but all I do is keep on smoking my cigarette. I don't attempt to cover my dick. I don't do what I suppose some guys would do, try and show it off more. I just simply stand there, trying to figure out who the hell she is and what she's doing in my space. Well, our space, but it's going to be my space again. Once some things were boxed up and this one was out of my apartment. She's asking me to sign for my package and then brings up a box with one hand that has the words 'Hope,' on her fingers. It's what she'll need. Hope to get out of here alive. Her other hand with the words 'Less,' appear and she's indicating the paper she wants me to sign.
I reach out to the right, open the cabinet and pull out an ash tray I made out of some punk's bottom jaw down in the slums. After the bottom of the jaw had been preserved, I coated it with a couple coats of rust-o-leum metallic gold finish. The ash tray only had three sides, the front and the left and right, for easy grabbing. I put it on the counter and flick the ash off the cigarette before letting it rest on the the flat back molars as I shake my head. “I assure you, you don't have my package. I take care of my own junk.” I don't blink, I don't smile, and my tone is barely above a whisper. I'm aware what 'junk' could mean, but in this instance, it means that I take care of my own business. I talk slow and calmly so that she understands and there is no room for misinterpretation. Women tend to do that. Misunderstand and make mountains out of mole hills.
“I also assure you that breaking and entering is a crime, even if my dumb mutt seems to think anyone can come in here and hang out while I'm away.” My eyes move to her paper, prior to me reaching out to flick it. “Not my junk, means I'm not signing it. Get out of my space before I make you get out. And you don't want that. I can almost guarantee it won't be through the way you came in.” I take a step forward as I reach out for my cigarette and plop it between my lips. The weight of my body makes the wood floor creak a little, but I don't look down at the floor. Certain spots in the apartment did that. Some due to shoddy installation, but one spot did it for reasons only known to me. The hand I just freed from the cigarette jerks towards the door as I stand there, contently puffing away on my menthol cigarette.
I miss the first glance down at my junk, not that I would care. It's a dick. Who cares? It's the least needed appendage on me, and most of all any male vampire, I believed. Her eyes are on mine and then she tells me she's got my package. I catch her glancing down at 'my package,' but all I do is keep on smoking my cigarette. I don't attempt to cover my dick. I don't do what I suppose some guys would do, try and show it off more. I just simply stand there, trying to figure out who the hell she is and what she's doing in my space. Well, our space, but it's going to be my space again. Once some things were boxed up and this one was out of my apartment. She's asking me to sign for my package and then brings up a box with one hand that has the words 'Hope,' on her fingers. It's what she'll need. Hope to get out of here alive. Her other hand with the words 'Less,' appear and she's indicating the paper she wants me to sign.
I reach out to the right, open the cabinet and pull out an ash tray I made out of some punk's bottom jaw down in the slums. After the bottom of the jaw had been preserved, I coated it with a couple coats of rust-o-leum metallic gold finish. The ash tray only had three sides, the front and the left and right, for easy grabbing. I put it on the counter and flick the ash off the cigarette before letting it rest on the the flat back molars as I shake my head. “I assure you, you don't have my package. I take care of my own junk.” I don't blink, I don't smile, and my tone is barely above a whisper. I'm aware what 'junk' could mean, but in this instance, it means that I take care of my own business. I talk slow and calmly so that she understands and there is no room for misinterpretation. Women tend to do that. Misunderstand and make mountains out of mole hills.
“I also assure you that breaking and entering is a crime, even if my dumb mutt seems to think anyone can come in here and hang out while I'm away.” My eyes move to her paper, prior to me reaching out to flick it. “Not my junk, means I'm not signing it. Get out of my space before I make you get out. And you don't want that. I can almost guarantee it won't be through the way you came in.” I take a step forward as I reach out for my cigarette and plop it between my lips. The weight of my body makes the wood floor creak a little, but I don't look down at the floor. Certain spots in the apartment did that. Some due to shoddy installation, but one spot did it for reasons only known to me. The hand I just freed from the cigarette jerks towards the door as I stand there, contently puffing away on my menthol cigarette.
-
Dominique
- Registered User
- Posts: 1047
- Joined: 27 Mar 2013, 22:19
- CrowNet Handle: Batgirl
- Location: Vita Bella
- Contact:
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
What was it with her and awkward lately? It was like one of the shadows creeping around her that she had embraced a couple years back but perhaps had been dormant and finally was rearing and making it’s presence known. She was having a hard time shaking it. Not that now was the particular time to try dealing with it. For a guy who was supposed to be waiting for a package he seemed a little unhappy about it’s special delivery. In fact he was not pleased at all. Usually the recipient would slide some shorts on. Accept it and at least sign for it.This was a first. She was beginning to feel like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Prepared for anything the woman always was. The casual movement of a drawer opening and the unveiling of the world’s most unique and questionable ashtray had her deadpanning instantly. The tips of her fingers pushed up as the center of her palm pulled back to create space between the bottom of the package and her open hand. She was feeling the vibes setting in that this was one of those moments that perhaps she was going to be exiting a situation before it got messy or she was going to be making a mess and the nude dude was going to be deciding just how it went with his next moves.
So maybe...just maybe it wasn’t his package. And as for the other package which she glanced at because it was hanging out like his arms and legs were she had seen enough and was noting it was missing a curtain of material more than the fact it was some grand statement that it even existed. Men and their junk as he now referred to it. Doc had the same issue. He got all funny when she was chatting at him while he was taking his shower. Obviously with all the ink she had on her in the places she did gave more than a few hints that a body and nudity was like looking at the palm of someone’s hand for her. It got her about as heated as staring at a Botticelli would. It wasn’t like she felt her bare tits when they were open to view, stars and all, said they deserved a prize.This guy didn’t deserve one either.
However he did need to be a little more open to the idea it was a simple error if that is the case. Foster’s error in fact and calm down before he got himself a flying lesson through his window without his superhero cape. She was pretty sure the cops would find him far more interesting at that point than her being a possible breaking and entering suspect. Threats didn’t work on her. They usually ended up take as invitations to act more than anything else. That pride curse was always hanging over her.
She looked at the receipt he snapped at and the direction his hand pointed out which was the door. Not that she needed any hints. She knew where it was at. It was the same one she spent over , hour longer than she planned on looking at out of complete boredom. The floor creaks and signals that things just got more interesting.
“I am pretty sure you are better off not giving that a try..” She pulled the package closer to her body then decided Foster had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Her feet were moving and carrying her to the door. She still had time for take out. “You want your **** you can pick it up from Foster.”
Prepared for anything the woman always was. The casual movement of a drawer opening and the unveiling of the world’s most unique and questionable ashtray had her deadpanning instantly. The tips of her fingers pushed up as the center of her palm pulled back to create space between the bottom of the package and her open hand. She was feeling the vibes setting in that this was one of those moments that perhaps she was going to be exiting a situation before it got messy or she was going to be making a mess and the nude dude was going to be deciding just how it went with his next moves.
So maybe...just maybe it wasn’t his package. And as for the other package which she glanced at because it was hanging out like his arms and legs were she had seen enough and was noting it was missing a curtain of material more than the fact it was some grand statement that it even existed. Men and their junk as he now referred to it. Doc had the same issue. He got all funny when she was chatting at him while he was taking his shower. Obviously with all the ink she had on her in the places she did gave more than a few hints that a body and nudity was like looking at the palm of someone’s hand for her. It got her about as heated as staring at a Botticelli would. It wasn’t like she felt her bare tits when they were open to view, stars and all, said they deserved a prize.This guy didn’t deserve one either.
However he did need to be a little more open to the idea it was a simple error if that is the case. Foster’s error in fact and calm down before he got himself a flying lesson through his window without his superhero cape. She was pretty sure the cops would find him far more interesting at that point than her being a possible breaking and entering suspect. Threats didn’t work on her. They usually ended up take as invitations to act more than anything else. That pride curse was always hanging over her.
She looked at the receipt he snapped at and the direction his hand pointed out which was the door. Not that she needed any hints. She knew where it was at. It was the same one she spent over , hour longer than she planned on looking at out of complete boredom. The floor creaks and signals that things just got more interesting.
“I am pretty sure you are better off not giving that a try..” She pulled the package closer to her body then decided Foster had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Her feet were moving and carrying her to the door. She still had time for take out. “You want your **** you can pick it up from Foster.”
-
Roderic
- Registered User
- Posts: 3014
- Joined: 05 May 2013, 02:32
- CrowNet Handle: We Regret To Inform U
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
“Who the hell is Foster?” I say as I step in just the right, or not so right spot and the floor board once again shifts and makes a high whine. I stop and just stand there, my arms slowly moving to my chest as I look at the back of the woman in the leather clad coat. It's a nice coat, not some piece of crap knock off, wanna be leather thing with a **** design that most women wore these nights. “I said, who is Foster and how the hell am I supposed to find him for this mysterious package?” I slowly step off the creaky slab of wood right before the dog makes a grand appearance again, bolting for the living room, deciding that if I was coming this way, that I was probably coming for the bedroom.
I spread my legs out, just a little. Just enough to step off the creaky floor board that she seemed to have missed and then changed what might potentially be conveyed as an aggressive disposition. It is, but I also know that once in a while, you catch more flies with honey and this was one of these situations. I take the cigarette out from my lips and exhale a big plum of smoke into the air above my head. “Look. You surprised me.” I admit, because it was true. Sort of. I hadn't expected someone to be in my apartment and if someone was in it, I hadn't expected it to be a random stranger. “I don't like surprises.” I almost add in how I don't like my space invaded, but leave that out. She doesn't need to know that. I said all I needed to say with that last phrase.
The cigarette finds a home between my lips again. “If you would be so kind as to give me Foster's location and telephone number, I'm positive this can all be sorted out.” Foster needed a personal visit from me, something I was going to leave out too. If the guy can't do his job, then he needed to find a new one or be wiped off the map. Especially if he was sending chicks inside homes. Granted she was a vampire chick that might be able to hold her own against most people; at least the human sorts, but one night she's going to be sitting there on someone's couch and that someone isn't going to let her just waltz right out of their apartment, like I was more than happy to let her do so. After I got the location and telephone number. I move then, move behind her and then try to move around her. “The address of the fine establishment you work for?” I say, putting a hand at against the back of the door, indicating I wasn't letting her leave until I got that from her.
I spread my legs out, just a little. Just enough to step off the creaky floor board that she seemed to have missed and then changed what might potentially be conveyed as an aggressive disposition. It is, but I also know that once in a while, you catch more flies with honey and this was one of these situations. I take the cigarette out from my lips and exhale a big plum of smoke into the air above my head. “Look. You surprised me.” I admit, because it was true. Sort of. I hadn't expected someone to be in my apartment and if someone was in it, I hadn't expected it to be a random stranger. “I don't like surprises.” I almost add in how I don't like my space invaded, but leave that out. She doesn't need to know that. I said all I needed to say with that last phrase.
The cigarette finds a home between my lips again. “If you would be so kind as to give me Foster's location and telephone number, I'm positive this can all be sorted out.” Foster needed a personal visit from me, something I was going to leave out too. If the guy can't do his job, then he needed to find a new one or be wiped off the map. Especially if he was sending chicks inside homes. Granted she was a vampire chick that might be able to hold her own against most people; at least the human sorts, but one night she's going to be sitting there on someone's couch and that someone isn't going to let her just waltz right out of their apartment, like I was more than happy to let her do so. After I got the location and telephone number. I move then, move behind her and then try to move around her. “The address of the fine establishment you work for?” I say, putting a hand at against the back of the door, indicating I wasn't letting her leave until I got that from her.
-
Dominique
- Registered User
- Posts: 1047
- Joined: 27 Mar 2013, 22:19
- CrowNet Handle: Batgirl
- Location: Vita Bella
- Contact:
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
Foster was the one at the top of her **** list. That was who Foster was. The recent hire who had a hell of a hand with the ink and off the charts eye for design just so happened to be sporting a cast from his toes up to his nuts. Who knew that skateboarding through evening traffic could be so dangerous. Not Foster. He nearly lost his right leg figuring it out. Surprisingly he still got his *** around faster than most did with two good legs. One thing was for sure she was done losing employees. So there was a bit of surprise that she was being asked to give up some info on James Dean Fosterson. Nude Dude didn’t like surprises. Well, she was pretty sure Foster didn’t like them either.
“I will keep that in mind.” Her lips softened just enough to lift at one corner as if it should be unsettling that she was making a point to remember. “No one you know. Think you established that.”
Dominique heard and all but ignored the second request as to who is the twit that fucked up the directions and had her surprising the one she was leaving behind in the obviously wrong apartment. Her hand made it to the door handle that she was about to make use of when a hand planted at the frame and door sealed it from moving as planned. Foster’s phone number? Location? The man was usually holed up in her New York themed West apartment with his skating buddies and the girlfriend they all had in common, Rainbow Bright. She was not too keen on sharing her real name and Dominique didn’t care as long as she came up with the rent and kept the place clean and Foster as well. So far it was a winning deal. That is until she took some directions from him to drop off a package that clearly was likely being missed by someone else.
“You don’t need to know his location, his telephone number or what is in this here package.” HOPE tightened her fingers around the edge of it and gripped the corner pinning it tight to her body. “I don’t know you from a ******* hole in the wall so why in the hell would I tell you where I work? You aren’t in any postion to be asking for my resume.” Her eyes glanced up at the door when it still wasn’t moving with her average attempt at pulling it open. She turned to face him because her next words were going to be delivered the only way she did when she meant it. “By the way, you get a couple seconds to pick something else to lean on to hold yourself up because I am about to use your door and you are in the way.” She never asked twice and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to in this particular case either. Her eyes stayed wide open and fixed on his. “Clock is now ticking.”
“I will keep that in mind.” Her lips softened just enough to lift at one corner as if it should be unsettling that she was making a point to remember. “No one you know. Think you established that.”
Dominique heard and all but ignored the second request as to who is the twit that fucked up the directions and had her surprising the one she was leaving behind in the obviously wrong apartment. Her hand made it to the door handle that she was about to make use of when a hand planted at the frame and door sealed it from moving as planned. Foster’s phone number? Location? The man was usually holed up in her New York themed West apartment with his skating buddies and the girlfriend they all had in common, Rainbow Bright. She was not too keen on sharing her real name and Dominique didn’t care as long as she came up with the rent and kept the place clean and Foster as well. So far it was a winning deal. That is until she took some directions from him to drop off a package that clearly was likely being missed by someone else.
“You don’t need to know his location, his telephone number or what is in this here package.” HOPE tightened her fingers around the edge of it and gripped the corner pinning it tight to her body. “I don’t know you from a ******* hole in the wall so why in the hell would I tell you where I work? You aren’t in any postion to be asking for my resume.” Her eyes glanced up at the door when it still wasn’t moving with her average attempt at pulling it open. She turned to face him because her next words were going to be delivered the only way she did when she meant it. “By the way, you get a couple seconds to pick something else to lean on to hold yourself up because I am about to use your door and you are in the way.” She never asked twice and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to in this particular case either. Her eyes stayed wide open and fixed on his. “Clock is now ticking.”
-
Roderic
- Registered User
- Posts: 3014
- Joined: 05 May 2013, 02:32
- CrowNet Handle: We Regret To Inform U
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
What was up with women? One minute she tells me to pick something up from Foster, the second she's telling me she's not giving me the location to get this package from this mysterious Foster. Did all women just like to be annoying and aggravating? I slowly, very slowly count to twelve as she continues talking, my eyes glaring at the back of the door. When silence befalls us, it is then that I talk. Again. It is slow, because I'm starting to think she has a difficult time understanding the scenario she placed herself in.
“You don't know me. Fact. Yet, that did not stop you from entering a private home, my home.” I inform her of this slight oversight she keeps seeming to forget or not caring about. You then proceed to tell me to get my package from Foster, then try and deny me in attaining my package. I understand that most women, maybe yourself included like to play this role...known as a tease, but I can assure you, that won't work on me.” I don't release my hand from the door, not yet.
“Then, you threaten me in my home, when you're performing an illegal activity for some slime bag who deserves a boot in the mouth. My boot. Does that work on most people? Most men? Let me guess, you're now going for the...what is it called?” My hand slides off the door and lands on her shoulder. She did say for me to lean on something else and well, why not her? “Domino? No. Domineering? That's not right either. Dominatrix?” Yeah. That's it.” I tighten my grip on her shoulder, but don't do anything yet. “Thing is, I don't get off on that either, so let me show you what type of person I am and what gets 'me off.'” I yank her with all my might, in an attempt to shove her against the wall, only to rough her up a little, but my hand slips right off her leather coat and she goes the completely opposite direction. Or she fights it and decides to go the other way. Whatever the case, she doesn't go for the wall where the door would open against, and instead goes the other way and once again there is that creak under her black boots. The creak that I made minutes ago when I stepped on that one particular floor board. The one that seems to keep trying to get someone to pay it some attention. It's almost as if someone put a sign up saying 'Here I am!' I lick my lips as my eyes narrow and I wait. What has her attention the most? Me or that god damn floor board?
“You don't know me. Fact. Yet, that did not stop you from entering a private home, my home.” I inform her of this slight oversight she keeps seeming to forget or not caring about. You then proceed to tell me to get my package from Foster, then try and deny me in attaining my package. I understand that most women, maybe yourself included like to play this role...known as a tease, but I can assure you, that won't work on me.” I don't release my hand from the door, not yet.
“Then, you threaten me in my home, when you're performing an illegal activity for some slime bag who deserves a boot in the mouth. My boot. Does that work on most people? Most men? Let me guess, you're now going for the...what is it called?” My hand slides off the door and lands on her shoulder. She did say for me to lean on something else and well, why not her? “Domino? No. Domineering? That's not right either. Dominatrix?” Yeah. That's it.” I tighten my grip on her shoulder, but don't do anything yet. “Thing is, I don't get off on that either, so let me show you what type of person I am and what gets 'me off.'” I yank her with all my might, in an attempt to shove her against the wall, only to rough her up a little, but my hand slips right off her leather coat and she goes the completely opposite direction. Or she fights it and decides to go the other way. Whatever the case, she doesn't go for the wall where the door would open against, and instead goes the other way and once again there is that creak under her black boots. The creak that I made minutes ago when I stepped on that one particular floor board. The one that seems to keep trying to get someone to pay it some attention. It's almost as if someone put a sign up saying 'Here I am!' I lick my lips as my eyes narrow and I wait. What has her attention the most? Me or that god damn floor board?
You failed in your endeavor
-
Dominique
- Registered User
- Posts: 1047
- Joined: 27 Mar 2013, 22:19
- CrowNet Handle: Batgirl
- Location: Vita Bella
- Contact:
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
The guy was informing her of the current situation as if she was blonde, chewing on a wad of gum waiting for the punch line in a boxing ring she happened to walk into missing all the warning signs along the way. Men. What the **** was he on about? It was becoming a throw back to The Clash. 'Should I stay or should I go" came to mind. First she was supposed to get out next he was trying to keep her inside. Who was really having the difficulty making up their mind? all she was doing was dropping off a package like she has done over the last two weeks to the places that Foster was compentent enough to send her to while he manned the deliveries and orders. It wasn’t like he could do a whole lot with the cast up to the top of his inner thigh giving him an epic case of ‘rawhide’ as he called it.
**** Foster. That was her first thought as Nude Dude decided to try reducing her from some brainless twit to...wait...what? She blinked. Dominatrix? Tease? Oh boy. He wasn’t just missing his clothes. He was missing his marbles too. She wasn’t into taking issue with those that tried but failed to insult her or those at a disadvantage, but there he was asking for it. Why couldn’t he just do that. Being all personal, suggesting to tell her what gets him off was so uneccessary. Really. Why did she need to know? Because that was the thing about men. They claimed women beat around the bush but what about them? They were the ******* bush. And this particular bush needed as serious *** beating as soon as it put his hand on her and squeezed.
Like a signal to make her move the pressure of his hand did more working in her favor than for him. Her hand released the package to the floor with a dull thud as she spun out of further reach and stepped on the hotspot that released a creak announcing she hit it. Immediately she was back in nudist’s space wasting no time at taking a vice grip hold on his upper arms and giving every effort to send his *** flying. Instead of succeeding she felt the failure in her delivery. He did anything but go where she was hoping for. Great. Just ******* great. Now nude dude was back up to bat.
**** Foster. That was her first thought as Nude Dude decided to try reducing her from some brainless twit to...wait...what? She blinked. Dominatrix? Tease? Oh boy. He wasn’t just missing his clothes. He was missing his marbles too. She wasn’t into taking issue with those that tried but failed to insult her or those at a disadvantage, but there he was asking for it. Why couldn’t he just do that. Being all personal, suggesting to tell her what gets him off was so uneccessary. Really. Why did she need to know? Because that was the thing about men. They claimed women beat around the bush but what about them? They were the ******* bush. And this particular bush needed as serious *** beating as soon as it put his hand on her and squeezed.
Like a signal to make her move the pressure of his hand did more working in her favor than for him. Her hand released the package to the floor with a dull thud as she spun out of further reach and stepped on the hotspot that released a creak announcing she hit it. Immediately she was back in nudist’s space wasting no time at taking a vice grip hold on his upper arms and giving every effort to send his *** flying. Instead of succeeding she felt the failure in her delivery. He did anything but go where she was hoping for. Great. Just ******* great. Now nude dude was back up to bat.
You failed in your endeavor
-
Roderic
- Registered User
- Posts: 3014
- Joined: 05 May 2013, 02:32
- CrowNet Handle: We Regret To Inform U
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
The package was on the floor. I'm torn between picking it up, opening it and seeing just what is in it to ruin my entire night, stomping on it, or keep engaging the woman. She doesn't make a move for that floor board, instead, she goes for me. It makes sense, but it surprises me a little bit because I underestimated her. I half expected her to either go for the noise like a typical female that was easily distracted, or vanish by a teleport or burst into a couple dozen shadows. I was hoping for the latter, because that meant I could get on with my night and the things I had planned on doing. After I see what was in the box and then try to locate who this Foster is to shove my booted foot in his mouth, so hard I snapped his neck from the impact. I believed in the adage, don't shoot the messenger, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try and get my point across to her. 'Don't enter my space again.'
But, because I fail in my first delivery, she attempts to not only stay in my space, but to get in my personal space. What is known at someone's 'bubble.' Her hands are around my upper arms and she's trying to flip me over her shoulder. I think. I'm not actually sure, but how the hell did she think she was going to manage that? I mean, sure I'm naked so I'm about ten pounds lighter with no clothes and no boots, but I'm not a stick either. “I don't know how you thought that would work.” I pull my left arm back and shoot it forward trying to hit her, primarily in her gut. I don't like hitting women, but this one is the exception to the rule since she entered my abode without notification.
“But you're probably what? A buck twenty wet? I'm like one and a half of you.” I go for the gut, because let's face it. Women seem to get more upset when you mess up their hair and makeup, so I know the face is off limits, even if she's trying to keep up with me. Keep up like she's one of the guys. The dark haired burglar moves and my fist goes sailing into the air and smacks the wall and I groan from the impact of my knuckles smacking against the solid surface. “Son of a-” I snap, because for whatever reason tonight, everything seems to be working against me. I can't be here in peace because of her. I can't get my task done because of her. I can't even punch the nameless bandit. I lunge at her, in all my glory, not caring how this might seem in some other, alternate world, or to anyone that might enter. It doesn't even register as anything more than me trying to give her a good knocking around, regardless of it looking like some naked dude trying to get on a chick. Simply, that sort of stuff doesn't exist in my world, even if it exists in the one I live in, but typically tend to ignore the majority of my nights.
But, because I fail in my first delivery, she attempts to not only stay in my space, but to get in my personal space. What is known at someone's 'bubble.' Her hands are around my upper arms and she's trying to flip me over her shoulder. I think. I'm not actually sure, but how the hell did she think she was going to manage that? I mean, sure I'm naked so I'm about ten pounds lighter with no clothes and no boots, but I'm not a stick either. “I don't know how you thought that would work.” I pull my left arm back and shoot it forward trying to hit her, primarily in her gut. I don't like hitting women, but this one is the exception to the rule since she entered my abode without notification.
“But you're probably what? A buck twenty wet? I'm like one and a half of you.” I go for the gut, because let's face it. Women seem to get more upset when you mess up their hair and makeup, so I know the face is off limits, even if she's trying to keep up with me. Keep up like she's one of the guys. The dark haired burglar moves and my fist goes sailing into the air and smacks the wall and I groan from the impact of my knuckles smacking against the solid surface. “Son of a-” I snap, because for whatever reason tonight, everything seems to be working against me. I can't be here in peace because of her. I can't get my task done because of her. I can't even punch the nameless bandit. I lunge at her, in all my glory, not caring how this might seem in some other, alternate world, or to anyone that might enter. It doesn't even register as anything more than me trying to give her a good knocking around, regardless of it looking like some naked dude trying to get on a chick. Simply, that sort of stuff doesn't exist in my world, even if it exists in the one I live in, but typically tend to ignore the majority of my nights.
You failed in your endeavor
-
Dominique
- Registered User
- Posts: 1047
- Joined: 27 Mar 2013, 22:19
- CrowNet Handle: Batgirl
- Location: Vita Bella
- Contact:
Re: Don't Touch (Invite)
The sound of the wall taking the hit for her was a relief. More than a relief in fact viewing the considerable dent he made into the flat surface that buckled nearly effortlessly with the impact of his fist. So far she was not gaining any ground worth noting but she was holding her own and not losing any either. That had her feeling a little more confident as the whole pride against all odds started kicking into full swing. With kicking being the key word she was in a spin with her left heel pivoting outwards taking the flow of her extended right foot to cut the air in a wicked sweep aiming for the side of his head as her upper body dipped down and gave a little more incentive as her foot was expected to make contact. It did not. She was left standing back prepared for a retaliating swing that didn’t happen. She was a blur as HOPE and LESS took a second hold at his arms and with a roar fueled with intent as they pushed the nude body forward and sent it at the nearest wall.
A loud breaking of cement and glass was followed by a sudden rush of night air coming at her. Her body stumbled and it was then that she noticed her hands were empty. The hole where the wall had been was big. Big enough for the nude dude to fit though...which he did. She surmised as much when the bare soles of his feet were the last of his flesh that she saw until she stepped quickly to verify he in fact was gone. Leaning forward she held on to the broken bits of wall and watched him free fall at a serious speed. If she was enraged, which she wasn’t nearly as close to what she could have been, it was brief to non-existent. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers had something to do with that. As man bits and flailing limbs shrunk before her eyes to the ground below the music flowed through her head.
With the issue at hand resolved to her satisfaction she took her time walking back to the front door that she still felt comfortable using. HOPE reached down while she leaned just enough to make her fingers catch the twine that held the package closed. She opened the door and closed it. A twirl of the box allowed it to spin on her index finger like a basketball. The pulsing of her cell phone caught her attention on the way down the seventh floor stairs. She cradled the box meant to be delivered and winced at Foster’s text not seen until that moment. Well that confirms that the guy was in fact the wrong recipient. She would take the back exit. Obviously a lot could be going on in the front of the building. Celerity could be an option but what was the rush? She made her point. Who would come back for seconds? Just to prove she was a good sport she sent out a text to Doc.
-Nude dude down after finding out he couldn’t fly. If you are fast enough you can find him in the Flats grounds. May need some of your magic-
Now that she was out of the area thanks to some decent jogging she found herself heading back towards Twisted Sister in Honeymead Market. Once inside she locked her shop doors and headed upstairs. The package was hardly going to go to waste. She didn't let go of it while she worked her arms out of her leather jacket and tossed it to the back of the chair next to the shop desk. She looked at the clock. She had missed her window for take-out. Figures.
A loud breaking of cement and glass was followed by a sudden rush of night air coming at her. Her body stumbled and it was then that she noticed her hands were empty. The hole where the wall had been was big. Big enough for the nude dude to fit though...which he did. She surmised as much when the bare soles of his feet were the last of his flesh that she saw until she stepped quickly to verify he in fact was gone. Leaning forward she held on to the broken bits of wall and watched him free fall at a serious speed. If she was enraged, which she wasn’t nearly as close to what she could have been, it was brief to non-existent. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers had something to do with that. As man bits and flailing limbs shrunk before her eyes to the ground below the music flowed through her head.
With the issue at hand resolved to her satisfaction she took her time walking back to the front door that she still felt comfortable using. HOPE reached down while she leaned just enough to make her fingers catch the twine that held the package closed. She opened the door and closed it. A twirl of the box allowed it to spin on her index finger like a basketball. The pulsing of her cell phone caught her attention on the way down the seventh floor stairs. She cradled the box meant to be delivered and winced at Foster’s text not seen until that moment. Well that confirms that the guy was in fact the wrong recipient. She would take the back exit. Obviously a lot could be going on in the front of the building. Celerity could be an option but what was the rush? She made her point. Who would come back for seconds? Just to prove she was a good sport she sent out a text to Doc.
-Nude dude down after finding out he couldn’t fly. If you are fast enough you can find him in the Flats grounds. May need some of your magic-
Now that she was out of the area thanks to some decent jogging she found herself heading back towards Twisted Sister in Honeymead Market. Once inside she locked her shop doors and headed upstairs. The package was hardly going to go to waste. She didn't let go of it while she worked her arms out of her leather jacket and tossed it to the back of the chair next to the shop desk. She looked at the clock. She had missed her window for take-out. Figures.