Hell in hells, and leather followed close behind
((this scene picks up from here))
Dora stepped out of the alley by Fang Noir, brushing off her (or rather, Faith's) pants and smirking. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Ben-Hassad wasn't following her. She didn't quite feel like going straight home yet.
Deanna was up for play. It'd been a rather fucked up week -- between performing her first (and last) spell, helping a bloody werewolf, the coffee jitters, Vicky, the list went on -- she needed to let her hair down and party. Tear a throat or three. Be herself again.
She ordered the taxi driver to pull over three doors down from Fang Noir. She even flashed a toothy grin (Flaunt it, baby!) and, as he pissed his pants, she slipped out and continued east.
Dora stopped walking and leaned against a wall, taking a deep breath. She pushed her hair away from her eyes and looked around.
Her unbuttoned coat fluttered and pulled away from her in the stiff wind. Her cream blouse a stark contrast to her firey red hair, black trousers and sensible boots (are there any other kind?) clacking against the cement. Deanna paused as she reached the velvet rope, surveying the unwashed masses desperate for entry. Her eyes ran the gamut, looking for a potential treat.
After some contemplation, she decided to head back toward the club again, but bypassing the route she and Ben-Hassad had taken. As she came upon the line waiting to get it (when had that happened?) she immediately recognized Deanna and smiled, increasing her pace toward her but not calling out.
Deanna lazily removed one glove, finger outstretched. "Eenie, meenie, miney mo, catch some breakfast by the neck. If she hollers tear her throat..." she trailed off, focussing on a rather stunning brunette attached, by the hip apparently, to what she surmised was an unsuccessful underwear model.
Dora crept up behind Deanna, watching her stare intently at the crowd before them. She leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Kid in a candy store, much?"
Deanna giggled. "Mmmmmmmmm, chocolate." She shook her head then, realizing the question wasn't internal. She turned on her heel, surprise registering on her face. "Well, helloooooooo stranger," she cooed. "Long time no see. Where have you been hiding?"
Dora took each lapel of Deanna's coat in her index finger and thumb, pulling her closer, and sliding her hands down. "I haven't been hiding...maybe you just weren't looking hard enough." She looked up into her eyes, a hint of mischievousness apparent in Dora's own blue ones.
Deanna drank every aspect of the girl, her wardrobe, make-up, attitude. "Someone got a visit from Queer Eye for the Straight Girl, I see." She cocked her neck, looking straight into Dora's eyes. "This is new," she giggled.
She gave a mock pout. "What, you didn't like me before?" She gave Deanna her own once over. "And look at you...you look like you're going to a board meeting." She tugged on her blouse. "This will look much better off."
"Anything but bored, hon." Deanna ran one hand across the Slayer's fingers.
Dora glanced over at the club. "Nostalgia...I haven't been in here since..." She tilted her head, thinking about Ben-Hassad for a split second. "Since forever." She turned her attention back to Deanna. "You have the whole V.I.P. thing going on, right? You took Faith in there." She walked her fingers back up Deanna's stomach, to just below her breasts.
She nodded, goosebumps raising to Dora's touch. What the fuck? Deanna questioned silently. Since when do I get goosebumps? "And I caught a whirlwind of shit for taking a slayer down there, and she and I didn't even... well, not together." Deanna leaned in towards Dora, lips brushing against the slender girl's ear. "So give me a reason to be naughty," she whispered.
Dora paused for a moment, and dropped her hand down again, this time to crawl up underneath her shirt. As her fingers brushed Deanna's nipples, she moved her own mouth to Deanna's ear. Taking her soft earlobe between her teeth for a moment, then pulling back a fraction of an inch to whisper back,"Because...I'm asking you real nice?"
A low groan escaped from Deanna's lips upon Dora's feather-light touch. Her fingers entwined with the Slayer's free hand, pulling her towards the front door, bypassing the disgruntled masses caged in velvet. With a wink and a nod to Bruno, they slipped inside the crowded nightclub.
Deanna kept an eye out for Victoria as she pulled Dora towards the VIP door; the last thing she wanted now was her love-struck kitten to growl and claw. Sure Victoria had found a new playmate but her note heavily suggested it was a distraction, something to bide the time until Deanna was available to her again.
She waited as the bartender pressed the button to release the magnetic lock, and the duo slipped through the door and down the stairs.
Dora looked around as Deanna led her down the stairs. "I guess I'm somebody now, huh?" She laughed.
As they reached the bottom step, Deanna twirled and grabbed Dora, pinning her to the wall. Her lips pressing hard against the brunette, kissing her hard. "You always were,"
Dora took a breath and then continued the kiss with passion to spare. She ran her fingers through the red hair, pulling slightly.
The shock of pain was confusing. Deanna always liked being in charge, and until tonight Dora had shown no tendencies. Not that she was complaining at this moment. "You like that, do you?" she breathlessly (well, duh) replied.
As Dora pulled back she playfully bit down on Deanna's lower lip. "Mmm...what do you think?"
Deanna grinned widely. "I think leather suits you,"
Dora grinned back. "And they're not even mine."
"Bet you'd look even better out of them," she replied.
((fade to black))
Dora stepped out of the alley by Fang Noir, brushing off her (or rather, Faith's) pants and smirking. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Ben-Hassad wasn't following her. She didn't quite feel like going straight home yet.
Deanna was up for play. It'd been a rather fucked up week -- between performing her first (and last) spell, helping a bloody werewolf, the coffee jitters, Vicky, the list went on -- she needed to let her hair down and party. Tear a throat or three. Be herself again.
She ordered the taxi driver to pull over three doors down from Fang Noir. She even flashed a toothy grin (Flaunt it, baby!) and, as he pissed his pants, she slipped out and continued east.
Dora stopped walking and leaned against a wall, taking a deep breath. She pushed her hair away from her eyes and looked around.
Her unbuttoned coat fluttered and pulled away from her in the stiff wind. Her cream blouse a stark contrast to her firey red hair, black trousers and sensible boots (are there any other kind?) clacking against the cement. Deanna paused as she reached the velvet rope, surveying the unwashed masses desperate for entry. Her eyes ran the gamut, looking for a potential treat.
After some contemplation, she decided to head back toward the club again, but bypassing the route she and Ben-Hassad had taken. As she came upon the line waiting to get it (when had that happened?) she immediately recognized Deanna and smiled, increasing her pace toward her but not calling out.
Deanna lazily removed one glove, finger outstretched. "Eenie, meenie, miney mo, catch some breakfast by the neck. If she hollers tear her throat..." she trailed off, focussing on a rather stunning brunette attached, by the hip apparently, to what she surmised was an unsuccessful underwear model.
Dora crept up behind Deanna, watching her stare intently at the crowd before them. She leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Kid in a candy store, much?"
Deanna giggled. "Mmmmmmmmm, chocolate." She shook her head then, realizing the question wasn't internal. She turned on her heel, surprise registering on her face. "Well, helloooooooo stranger," she cooed. "Long time no see. Where have you been hiding?"
Dora took each lapel of Deanna's coat in her index finger and thumb, pulling her closer, and sliding her hands down. "I haven't been hiding...maybe you just weren't looking hard enough." She looked up into her eyes, a hint of mischievousness apparent in Dora's own blue ones.
Deanna drank every aspect of the girl, her wardrobe, make-up, attitude. "Someone got a visit from Queer Eye for the Straight Girl, I see." She cocked her neck, looking straight into Dora's eyes. "This is new," she giggled.
She gave a mock pout. "What, you didn't like me before?" She gave Deanna her own once over. "And look at you...you look like you're going to a board meeting." She tugged on her blouse. "This will look much better off."
"Anything but bored, hon." Deanna ran one hand across the Slayer's fingers.
Dora glanced over at the club. "Nostalgia...I haven't been in here since..." She tilted her head, thinking about Ben-Hassad for a split second. "Since forever." She turned her attention back to Deanna. "You have the whole V.I.P. thing going on, right? You took Faith in there." She walked her fingers back up Deanna's stomach, to just below her breasts.
She nodded, goosebumps raising to Dora's touch. What the fuck? Deanna questioned silently. Since when do I get goosebumps? "And I caught a whirlwind of shit for taking a slayer down there, and she and I didn't even... well, not together." Deanna leaned in towards Dora, lips brushing against the slender girl's ear. "So give me a reason to be naughty," she whispered.
Dora paused for a moment, and dropped her hand down again, this time to crawl up underneath her shirt. As her fingers brushed Deanna's nipples, she moved her own mouth to Deanna's ear. Taking her soft earlobe between her teeth for a moment, then pulling back a fraction of an inch to whisper back,"Because...I'm asking you real nice?"
A low groan escaped from Deanna's lips upon Dora's feather-light touch. Her fingers entwined with the Slayer's free hand, pulling her towards the front door, bypassing the disgruntled masses caged in velvet. With a wink and a nod to Bruno, they slipped inside the crowded nightclub.
Deanna kept an eye out for Victoria as she pulled Dora towards the VIP door; the last thing she wanted now was her love-struck kitten to growl and claw. Sure Victoria had found a new playmate but her note heavily suggested it was a distraction, something to bide the time until Deanna was available to her again.
She waited as the bartender pressed the button to release the magnetic lock, and the duo slipped through the door and down the stairs.
Dora looked around as Deanna led her down the stairs. "I guess I'm somebody now, huh?" She laughed.
As they reached the bottom step, Deanna twirled and grabbed Dora, pinning her to the wall. Her lips pressing hard against the brunette, kissing her hard. "You always were,"
Dora took a breath and then continued the kiss with passion to spare. She ran her fingers through the red hair, pulling slightly.
The shock of pain was confusing. Deanna always liked being in charge, and until tonight Dora had shown no tendencies. Not that she was complaining at this moment. "You like that, do you?" she breathlessly (well, duh) replied.
As Dora pulled back she playfully bit down on Deanna's lower lip. "Mmm...what do you think?"
Deanna grinned widely. "I think leather suits you,"
Dora grinned back. "And they're not even mine."
"Bet you'd look even better out of them," she replied.
((fade to black))