@Penny His guns are in the hardcase and guitar case. They stole something far more valuable: his underwear.
Jarl Coolgruuf Member
The Mellower
STATUS: Ma! The sex roleplayers are being weird in the advanced tab again, Ma! 1 yr ago
- Last Seen: 9 mos ago
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Ma! The sex roleplayers are being weird in the advanced tab again, Ma!
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4 yrs ago
Stack sats, print gats, distill vats, feed cats
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4 yrs ago
We here at Cyberdine Systems have heard your demands and we answer your cries with "BullyBot". With the push of a button you can now automate all of your cyberbullying. The future is here. Embrace it.
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4 yrs ago
>using the phrase "normie" unironically
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4 yrs ago
They always ask me, "What the fuck are you doing!?" but never, "How the fuck you doing?"
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Someone touched Clive's stuff without asking
oh gosh oh golly here we go
oh gosh oh golly here we go
3 million dollars. Ho-ly shit. It was basically a low scale lottery in that it was fun to daydream, but anyone “playing” was more likely to get struck by lightning twice over in the same afternoon on a sunny day than actually win the pot. How many hundreds of thousands of people would now be looking for this girl? As nice as that many dead presidents in a briefcase sounded, Carolyn knew she would never find the girl. At least… not on her own. Especially not during work hours. She returned her mind to her makeup and put the finishing touches on her lipstick. Blood red, as always. She had to admit the idea of a vampire wearing that shade of lipstick was funny in a roundabout way. So on the nose it was almost comical. It might be funnier if she actually drank blood rather than the emotions of those in her audience, but she wasn’t exactly hurting to switch appetites. She found the idea of drinking blood absolutely repulsive.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door and a gruff male voice.
“You done in there? You’re on in less than 2 minutes.”
“I’ll be ready when I’m good and goddamn ready to be but lucky for you, I am.”
“You got a mouth on you, eh? Better watch yourself before I ruin that perfect little smile.”
“Make my night, fuck stick. Put one hand on me and you’ll be out the door and without two pennies to rub together faster than you can say “bad idea”, get me?”
There was a pause from the other side of the door.
“Whatever. Just get out there already,” the man replied before his footsteps faded away.
Carolyn stood from the rickety old stool positioned by her makeup station and stretched with a groan. Honestly, she wasn’t really up to the task of entertaining rich assholes with wandering eyes and restless hands. Come to think of it, when was she ever up to that? Never, really. She only kept strutting out onto the stage night after night because some of them tipped well and she was paid handsomely on top of that. It wasn’t unlike being a stripper that got to keep her clothes on, especially considering her current employer for the past year had made the lounge from the bones of an upscale strip club. No one really knows what happened to the previous owner and frankly she didn’t care. As long as she was making money she didn't need to know much else and sometimes it was better not to know.
She thought best not to keep her audience waiting and made her way down the exposed brick hallway to the backstage area. One last adjustment to her long, black hair as she inspected her now flawless features in a mirror. It’s truly amazing what makeup can do. She also adjusted her dress, a high slit dress black as sin that hugged her figure like a lover saying hello after a long absence. This bad boy only came out on special occasions and rumor had it some corporate big shots were on a business trip from the next city over. If the bartenders had done their jobs, they’d be nice and relaxed with their fingers loose on their wallets.
A low and slow jazz bassline was her cue to make her appearance. She waited as a red curtain slowly drifted up to reveal just how well she filled out her dress under the glare of the stage lights. With practiced grace, she made her way to the front of the stage. The crowd stirred with preemptive claps along with many suggestive whistles of approval. She smiled as she wrapped her perfectly manicured fingers around the microphone and brought it close to her lips. Her voice, smooth and dripping with seduction, quickly enrapturing them as she sang.
“Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the mornin'
Fever all through the night”
The relics of the lounge’s past proved useful for her performance. Most notably, the extended stage that allowed her to walk right into the crowd and allowed them to view her at all angles. Carolyn took full advantage of this as she pulled the microphone from the stand and strutted across the stage in her heels. The regulars were there and she made sure to acknowledge them as she went, but she was on the lookout for the big prize; the out of towners. She spotted them in their custom continentals rather quickly and put in the extra, extra mile for them. With swaying hips and legs working overtime she made her way toward the oldest of the group. She could taste the desire radiating off of him, the emotional deluge that would sustain her blasphemous existence for a bit longer. Her routine for these types was flawless and she’d have this salt and pepper perv eating out of the palm of her hand in 60 seconds tops.
”Sun lights up the day time
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
'Cause I know you're gonna treat me right
You give me fever when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the mornin'
Fever all through the night”
Carolyn never broke eye contact with him as she offered her hand which he readily took and helped her off the stage. He was practically shaking with excitement as she traced a finger across his shoulders, walking a slow circle around his chair. Her fingers slipped just under his suit jacket and traced a finger lightly over his chest before gently grasping his tie. She pulled him closer until they were a hand’s breadth from each other before she let the tie slip through her fingers and left him with only the scent of her perfume to keep him company. She didn’t even need to look back to know he was star struck with mouth agape. It was almost too easy. She was already feeling more energetic from that little snack and so resolved to keep the pace up as searched for her next customer/victim.
==========
The night was far from young when Carolyn's shift was finally done, but she wasn’t tired in the slightest. After a feeding like that, she’d still be ready for more if her feet weren’t so sore from walking around in heels for so many hours. Back in her dressing room, she scrubbed off her makeup which took several wipes. Her skin went from flawless to rather freckled. Her flowing hair went up into a very messy bun as she wiped her lips. Her eyeshadow proved to be a little stubborn, but the fake lashes came off easily and those she tucked into their case with extra care. Heels were traded for sneakers and a strapless bra was tossed aside in favor of a sports bra. She audibly sighed as she felt the support of the new garment allow her back a much needed rest. The person now staring back at her in the mirror was entirely unrecognizable as Carolyn Harper by anyone who didn’t already know her. Carolyn Harper was a well known singer in the lounge scene and would never associate with the likes of the freckled girl in a ratty T-shirt and jeans who exited the lounge after closing. Relative anonymity suited her just fine. She hated quite literally all of her customers, their grins, the looks they gave her, all of it. Knowing all that, she couldn’t be held responsible for any broken noses if they tried to interact with her when she was off the clock.
On the drive back to her secluded apartment downtown, her thoughts drifted back to the missing girl and the reward for her return; mostly the reward. Perhaps Sophia might know something. After all she knew people so maybe she knew something about the case. Couldn’t hurt to send her a text. Chances are she was at home doing whatever boring witch things witches get up to when they didn't have a broomstick handy.
what’s up<
you wouldn’t know anything about that Curtis girl who went missing would you?<
I’ll totally split the reward with you if you help me look for her lol<
Clive and his new friend, “Janie” as her friends apparently called her, started dealing once the plane reached a comfortable and relatively stable cruising speed. Even a seasoned gambler like himself was surprised at how quickly she picked up the concepts and strategy. They even started betting with in-flight snacks and some change in Clive’s pocket. As they played, he also took the opportunity to contribute to the education of the younger generation with life lessons and sage advice… or at least his brand of it.
“And that,” he said with authority, “is why colored folks should be the most armed people in America. Otherwise racist liberal commie bastards like Franklin Roosevelt put them in FEMA camps, stomp them into the dirt.”
“But why?” she asked, absolutely enthralled by his teachings
“Because racism is a tool of the elite to divide the people so we’re too distracted to see what they’re doing up there at the top of the pyramid.”
“So, all those things my dad says about the Mexicans down the street...?”
“Probably not true. Or maybe they are, but if so, it’s not because of their skin color.”
“Okay. Then what about all the things he says about communists?”
“All true.”
“But what about--?”
“True. All of it.”
Clive took a moment to snack on some ice and allow her to digest this information. He wished more food could be so delightfully crunchy. He’d tried freezing other drinks like Coke and Sprite but it just wasn’t the same. His musings were interrupted by excited giggling from the seat next to him as Janie pushed a handful of pretzels into the pile.
“Raise to 6 pretzels!”
A glance at his own hand revealed a whole bunch of bupkis. A nine in hand and a nine in the community cards gave him a remarkably uninteresting hand. Reasoning whatever had Janie so excited was better than a two of a kind, he folded. Her smile only grew when she revealed her own hand with a pair of threes. Clive was genuinely surprised she’d gotten one up on him that well.
“Well I’ll be. You played me like a bargain bin banjo. Good one, kid.”
She grinned like the cat that ate the canary as she began stuffing her face with the pot. His thoughts drifted once more, now to his teammates. The alchemist gave him pause. He knew the signs of a drug addict when he saw them. The shakes, the unfocused eyes, the jitteriness. Still, from what he knew of Eleanor he doubted she would agree to work with Val if she wasn’t a great asset. She didn’t seem particularly suited for combat. He made a mental note to offer her training with firearms afterward or at the very least show her how to duck under a punch. He had none of the same concerns for the wizard or the frenchman. The wizard for obvious reasons and the other because he just felt… wrong. Something about him gave Clive the heebie jeebies and couldn't quite put his finger on it.
“And that,” he said with authority, “is why colored folks should be the most armed people in America. Otherwise racist liberal commie bastards like Franklin Roosevelt put them in FEMA camps, stomp them into the dirt.”
“But why?” she asked, absolutely enthralled by his teachings
“Because racism is a tool of the elite to divide the people so we’re too distracted to see what they’re doing up there at the top of the pyramid.”
“So, all those things my dad says about the Mexicans down the street...?”
“Probably not true. Or maybe they are, but if so, it’s not because of their skin color.”
“Okay. Then what about all the things he says about communists?”
“All true.”
“But what about--?”
“True. All of it.”
Clive took a moment to snack on some ice and allow her to digest this information. He wished more food could be so delightfully crunchy. He’d tried freezing other drinks like Coke and Sprite but it just wasn’t the same. His musings were interrupted by excited giggling from the seat next to him as Janie pushed a handful of pretzels into the pile.
“Raise to 6 pretzels!”
A glance at his own hand revealed a whole bunch of bupkis. A nine in hand and a nine in the community cards gave him a remarkably uninteresting hand. Reasoning whatever had Janie so excited was better than a two of a kind, he folded. Her smile only grew when she revealed her own hand with a pair of threes. Clive was genuinely surprised she’d gotten one up on him that well.
“Well I’ll be. You played me like a bargain bin banjo. Good one, kid.”
She grinned like the cat that ate the canary as she began stuffing her face with the pot. His thoughts drifted once more, now to his teammates. The alchemist gave him pause. He knew the signs of a drug addict when he saw them. The shakes, the unfocused eyes, the jitteriness. Still, from what he knew of Eleanor he doubted she would agree to work with Val if she wasn’t a great asset. She didn’t seem particularly suited for combat. He made a mental note to offer her training with firearms afterward or at the very least show her how to duck under a punch. He had none of the same concerns for the wizard or the frenchman. The wizard for obvious reasons and the other because he just felt… wrong. Something about him gave Clive the heebie jeebies and couldn't quite put his finger on it.
@SadistPoet Real life always takes precedent, but I was sorta wondering myself what was happening with this roleplay.
@SadistPoet If you need some time that's cool, but I've been wondering the same thing myself
Once this is over grab a knife and carve a crosshair on Eleanor's face. Clive is weak, he won't resist!
Christ on a crutch that made me cackle. Mael imagines Clive looks like this at the range
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