(no subject)
WHO: Kelly Yates (THE YOUNG CHILD) & Ezekiel Raub (BIG BAD WOLF)
WHAT: As promised to Easy, in exchange for leaving Lydia be, a date.
WHEN: Evening
WHERE: A sufficiently seedy watering hole; New York
RATING: R for images of Mistress Kelly, Super Dominatrix
Kelly: Well, it could have been worse. Really. Instead of the three barely clothed women hanging around the bar, there could have been several barely clothed women hanging around the bar. Not that she actually had expected quality dining and drinks from an agreement procured with Ezekiel Raub, and thus had felt perfectly justified in donning simple jeans and dark blouse. Because good Lord, there was no way on this Earth she was going to ENCOURAGE any purposeful drink spillages around her chest area with a pastel or white shirt.
Crossing her legs as she sat in the dimly lit booth, idly wondering exactly how many unsuspecting naive teenagers the man regularly bought to this hovel, Kelly tapped her fingernails against the table. An hour and a half. A perfectly respectable time to stay, and then she'd leave Ezekiel to get his unfortunate jollies off with some loose legged waitress, and she'd (hopefully not too drunkenly) catch a cab back to her apartment. All she had to do was sit through the next ninety minutes with all her clothing on, make sure hands remained by sides, and hopefully distract him into drinking far more than her. And, if all else failed, well, there was always the small bottle of laxatives in her purse. A last resort that her conscience would very much not like to take responsibility for, but a last resort all the same. Or perhaps she could bribe some stripper or what-not into taking his attention off of her? Unorthodox, and horrifically underhanded; but desperate times and kept-reputations called for desperate measures -- and by kept reputations, that also included kept occupations in the offices of L. Marie Bouchard. "So, how do you know Marie?" At least if she was going to BE here, she might as well ask the several burning questions she had regarding her employer.
Easy: Oh, it certainly could be worse - Easy had chosen one of the more upstanding of his regular haunts in which to entertain Kelly, which didn't much speak for the quality of the bars he frequents. Upon arriving he'd immediately ordered them a round, and smiled to the waitress as she deposited two drinks onto the table in front of them. To his credit he was keeping his hands to himself - in fact his body language was distinctly nonthreatening for the moment, relaxed back into his chair and away from Kelly. That didn't stop him from rather openly undressing her with his eyes, of course.
"What, Lulu never told you 'bout her humble origins?" He answered with mock scandal, picking up his beer bottle and ensuring with a gesture that she followed suit - he wasn't about to forget the drink-for-drink clause of their little bargain. "She n' I grew up together, back down in Louisiana." He smiled at the memory, an almost wistful look, as he added, "Woman was a goddamn hellcat back in the day, I can tell y'that much for free." He tipped the bottle to his lips and effortlessly drained a good third of it, making it evident that he wasn't going to make 'keeping up' an easy task.
Kelly: Ah. Well. So apparently he wouldn't be forgetting the drink for a drink clause of the evening then. And feeling most glad she'd pre-emptively lined her stomach with a hearty meal before-hand (because, good Lord, avoiding being off her rocker or some such thing would be TERRIBLY wise), she took a cautious sip of the beer. Not that she would expect druggings as a part of Ezekiel's fore-play; but there was no harm in being slightly hesitant before swigging the thing. Which was, likely, a rather good decision considering she would have potentially choked on any liquids quickly consumed with the revelation that Marie and Easy were "childhood pals".
"Christ on a cracker." It seemed the most appropriate response as she processed the new information. Well. It certainly explained their dynamic, at least. Not to mention the fact he referred to her as "Lulu". Her eyes, however, rolled slightly as he appeared determined to display his masculinity through excessive beer guzzling. Honestly. A third of a bottle. There was something about the entire situation that irked her, from his smugness, to the appalling manner in which she was SURE he was undoing her blouse in her head. She should have brought a sweater. And eyebrow cocking in challenge, the bottle was held up to her lips, a quarter gone in bare seconds. But wait. Finger held up to silence any protests he may have interjected about her not keeping up, there was a moment's pause before it was once again swigged, making it down to two-thirds finished before it hit the table. Good Lord, she hadn't done that since College. "Please refrain from looking at my chest like that, Ezekiel."
Easy: Easy smiled in open amusement at Kelly's surprise; he knew exactly how well Marie kept such aspects of her past under wraps, and he took no small thrill in exposing them. He knew better than to openly smear her sordid details across the compendium pages, but dropping teasers in Kelly's ear was toeing the line just enough. He replied to her exclamation with a coy exhale, in a manner to imply 'you don't know the half of it'.
He watched almost hungrily as she lifted the beer for her first draught, nodding his head in a concession of sardonic approval as the first third disappeared. He'd been all ready to make a patronizing comment when he was silenced by a single raised finger, and then by the truly surprising display of a further guzzle. His brows raised again, this time in earnest surprise - he was impressed, and it showed. Enough so that the follow-up request caught him a bit off guard, and he blinked once before nodding his head in begrudging agreement. The link seemed tacitly plain - he would agree to such terms on the grounds that she had proven herself in the arena of beer gulping. These were the rules of Easy's playground.
He let his eyes dip wistfully back to her chest for a lingering moment, ostensibly so that he could make a clear show of tearing them away for one last time, which he did with exaggerated pain and effort. His gaze finally raised to meet hers with a sense of finality, as if to emphasize the benevolence of his compromise. "Goddamn, Kel," he mused, "Seems like y'all got some surprises of your own tucked away."
Kelly: Her eyes rolled. As much as she would love to be flattered by his seeming difficulty to avert his gaze from her blouse, the matter was rather hounded by the fact that a) Ezekiel Raub was a nymphomaniac, b) objectively, she was certainly no Pamela Anderson, and c) well, it would have been nice to be appreciated for one's mind and not mammary glands.
Though, the day that he began composing odes to her brain cells (or really, any female's brain cells), was the day Kelly began showing up at dive bars with disreputable gentlemen. Oh wait.
"Well, it helps that I lead a secret life as a leather clad dominatrix," A perfectly straight face, she had it, "but I really do like to think of that more as an alternative hobby, than a surprise." If he could drop off hints about Marie's personal life that caused her to almost choke on her own saliva, there was nothing in the rule books that stated neither could she. Okay. So maybe she secretly enjoyed teetering on the edge of sensible with such remarks now and then; however, in consideration of the fact she was in firm resolve to end the night with her in a taxi in an hour and a half -- there really was little harm in such comments. And besides. You never knew. Maybe she did lead life as a secret dominatrix.
Easy: This confession drew a wide smile from Ezekiel Raub - most likely because he was fully enjoying the visuals it stirred up in his already vivid imagination. He didn't show the same surprise as he had with the chugfest, but there was a sort of musing respect about her willingness to engage him - she could, of course, have opted to sit there in petulant silence for the whole night. He tipped up his bottle again to drain the last few sips, before waving for another round to be immediately delivered.
The penetrating gaze that had been previously reserved for her chest now met her eyes, and held them for a couple long, lingering moments. He seemed to be thinking about something, before finally speaking in a cryptic tone, one fingertip wiggling in her direction. "I'm gettin' you figured out, Kiki." He mused. "Y'all joke, but this whole 'prim n' proper schoolmarm' thing's got to be coverin' up for something. I ain't sayin' it's leather n' whips, but ain't nobody's really that collected all the time."
Despite his effort to exert confidence into his claim, there was a niggling hint of doubt in his tone - clearly this was something he actually needed proven, to enforce his own views of humanity as a whole. Everyone needed their dark sides, dammit. As two cold bottles appeared on the table he plucked one up and took a drink, without taking his eyes from hers, which challenged a rebuttal.
Kelly: Kiki? Kiki? An eyebrow shot towards the ceiling. Kellykins or whatever the gracious he had insisted on before was horrific enough -- but Kiki? It sounded like a cross between a bad porn star name and a pre-schooler; never mind the mental imagery that came with that particular metaphor. "Ezekiel," She wasn't going to touch the whips and chains comment in serious conversation, "if you refer to me as Kiki again, I shall be forced to take drastic measures."
That was right, Kelly, leave it pathetically ominous. Because aside from sitting in the aforementioned petulant silence all night, there really was nothing she was capable of specifically referring to. E-mail Marie? Out on the fact she'd be fired. Walk out? Out on the fact they had a deal. Shank a ho? Out on the fact she would be laughed out of town. Though really, she could have simply told him she would discontinue writing to him in prison; but those threatenings were for another time, and another conjugal trailer. I mean. What? "Yes, you caught me." A slower sip of the beer this time, the point had already been proven with previous chuggings. "Secretly I'm bored of my prinked and coiffed life of a PDA wielding personal assistant, with my morals and schedules. And that's why I'm sitting here with you, waiting to be drunkenly pawed. Really, Easy, don't you get bored of cheap lines and cheaper teenagers?"
[At which point the scene was called on account of Game Closing, though one can imagine that Kelly did, eventually, escape unmolested, but not without having planted the seed of interest which would later grow into their torrid letters-and-conjugal-trailers affair after Easy's tragic imprisonment. How's that for romantic?]
WHAT: As promised to Easy, in exchange for leaving Lydia be, a date.
WHEN: Evening
WHERE: A sufficiently seedy watering hole; New York
RATING: R for images of Mistress Kelly, Super Dominatrix
Kelly: Well, it could have been worse. Really. Instead of the three barely clothed women hanging around the bar, there could have been several barely clothed women hanging around the bar. Not that she actually had expected quality dining and drinks from an agreement procured with Ezekiel Raub, and thus had felt perfectly justified in donning simple jeans and dark blouse. Because good Lord, there was no way on this Earth she was going to ENCOURAGE any purposeful drink spillages around her chest area with a pastel or white shirt.
Crossing her legs as she sat in the dimly lit booth, idly wondering exactly how many unsuspecting naive teenagers the man regularly bought to this hovel, Kelly tapped her fingernails against the table. An hour and a half. A perfectly respectable time to stay, and then she'd leave Ezekiel to get his unfortunate jollies off with some loose legged waitress, and she'd (hopefully not too drunkenly) catch a cab back to her apartment. All she had to do was sit through the next ninety minutes with all her clothing on, make sure hands remained by sides, and hopefully distract him into drinking far more than her. And, if all else failed, well, there was always the small bottle of laxatives in her purse. A last resort that her conscience would very much not like to take responsibility for, but a last resort all the same. Or perhaps she could bribe some stripper or what-not into taking his attention off of her? Unorthodox, and horrifically underhanded; but desperate times and kept-reputations called for desperate measures -- and by kept reputations, that also included kept occupations in the offices of L. Marie Bouchard. "So, how do you know Marie?" At least if she was going to BE here, she might as well ask the several burning questions she had regarding her employer.
Easy: Oh, it certainly could be worse - Easy had chosen one of the more upstanding of his regular haunts in which to entertain Kelly, which didn't much speak for the quality of the bars he frequents. Upon arriving he'd immediately ordered them a round, and smiled to the waitress as she deposited two drinks onto the table in front of them. To his credit he was keeping his hands to himself - in fact his body language was distinctly nonthreatening for the moment, relaxed back into his chair and away from Kelly. That didn't stop him from rather openly undressing her with his eyes, of course.
"What, Lulu never told you 'bout her humble origins?" He answered with mock scandal, picking up his beer bottle and ensuring with a gesture that she followed suit - he wasn't about to forget the drink-for-drink clause of their little bargain. "She n' I grew up together, back down in Louisiana." He smiled at the memory, an almost wistful look, as he added, "Woman was a goddamn hellcat back in the day, I can tell y'that much for free." He tipped the bottle to his lips and effortlessly drained a good third of it, making it evident that he wasn't going to make 'keeping up' an easy task.
Kelly: Ah. Well. So apparently he wouldn't be forgetting the drink for a drink clause of the evening then. And feeling most glad she'd pre-emptively lined her stomach with a hearty meal before-hand (because, good Lord, avoiding being off her rocker or some such thing would be TERRIBLY wise), she took a cautious sip of the beer. Not that she would expect druggings as a part of Ezekiel's fore-play; but there was no harm in being slightly hesitant before swigging the thing. Which was, likely, a rather good decision considering she would have potentially choked on any liquids quickly consumed with the revelation that Marie and Easy were "childhood pals".
"Christ on a cracker." It seemed the most appropriate response as she processed the new information. Well. It certainly explained their dynamic, at least. Not to mention the fact he referred to her as "Lulu". Her eyes, however, rolled slightly as he appeared determined to display his masculinity through excessive beer guzzling. Honestly. A third of a bottle. There was something about the entire situation that irked her, from his smugness, to the appalling manner in which she was SURE he was undoing her blouse in her head. She should have brought a sweater. And eyebrow cocking in challenge, the bottle was held up to her lips, a quarter gone in bare seconds. But wait. Finger held up to silence any protests he may have interjected about her not keeping up, there was a moment's pause before it was once again swigged, making it down to two-thirds finished before it hit the table. Good Lord, she hadn't done that since College. "Please refrain from looking at my chest like that, Ezekiel."
Easy: Easy smiled in open amusement at Kelly's surprise; he knew exactly how well Marie kept such aspects of her past under wraps, and he took no small thrill in exposing them. He knew better than to openly smear her sordid details across the compendium pages, but dropping teasers in Kelly's ear was toeing the line just enough. He replied to her exclamation with a coy exhale, in a manner to imply 'you don't know the half of it'.
He watched almost hungrily as she lifted the beer for her first draught, nodding his head in a concession of sardonic approval as the first third disappeared. He'd been all ready to make a patronizing comment when he was silenced by a single raised finger, and then by the truly surprising display of a further guzzle. His brows raised again, this time in earnest surprise - he was impressed, and it showed. Enough so that the follow-up request caught him a bit off guard, and he blinked once before nodding his head in begrudging agreement. The link seemed tacitly plain - he would agree to such terms on the grounds that she had proven herself in the arena of beer gulping. These were the rules of Easy's playground.
He let his eyes dip wistfully back to her chest for a lingering moment, ostensibly so that he could make a clear show of tearing them away for one last time, which he did with exaggerated pain and effort. His gaze finally raised to meet hers with a sense of finality, as if to emphasize the benevolence of his compromise. "Goddamn, Kel," he mused, "Seems like y'all got some surprises of your own tucked away."
Kelly: Her eyes rolled. As much as she would love to be flattered by his seeming difficulty to avert his gaze from her blouse, the matter was rather hounded by the fact that a) Ezekiel Raub was a nymphomaniac, b) objectively, she was certainly no Pamela Anderson, and c) well, it would have been nice to be appreciated for one's mind and not mammary glands.
Though, the day that he began composing odes to her brain cells (or really, any female's brain cells), was the day Kelly began showing up at dive bars with disreputable gentlemen. Oh wait.
"Well, it helps that I lead a secret life as a leather clad dominatrix," A perfectly straight face, she had it, "but I really do like to think of that more as an alternative hobby, than a surprise." If he could drop off hints about Marie's personal life that caused her to almost choke on her own saliva, there was nothing in the rule books that stated neither could she. Okay. So maybe she secretly enjoyed teetering on the edge of sensible with such remarks now and then; however, in consideration of the fact she was in firm resolve to end the night with her in a taxi in an hour and a half -- there really was little harm in such comments. And besides. You never knew. Maybe she did lead life as a secret dominatrix.
Easy: This confession drew a wide smile from Ezekiel Raub - most likely because he was fully enjoying the visuals it stirred up in his already vivid imagination. He didn't show the same surprise as he had with the chugfest, but there was a sort of musing respect about her willingness to engage him - she could, of course, have opted to sit there in petulant silence for the whole night. He tipped up his bottle again to drain the last few sips, before waving for another round to be immediately delivered.
The penetrating gaze that had been previously reserved for her chest now met her eyes, and held them for a couple long, lingering moments. He seemed to be thinking about something, before finally speaking in a cryptic tone, one fingertip wiggling in her direction. "I'm gettin' you figured out, Kiki." He mused. "Y'all joke, but this whole 'prim n' proper schoolmarm' thing's got to be coverin' up for something. I ain't sayin' it's leather n' whips, but ain't nobody's really that collected all the time."
Despite his effort to exert confidence into his claim, there was a niggling hint of doubt in his tone - clearly this was something he actually needed proven, to enforce his own views of humanity as a whole. Everyone needed their dark sides, dammit. As two cold bottles appeared on the table he plucked one up and took a drink, without taking his eyes from hers, which challenged a rebuttal.
Kelly: Kiki? Kiki? An eyebrow shot towards the ceiling. Kellykins or whatever the gracious he had insisted on before was horrific enough -- but Kiki? It sounded like a cross between a bad porn star name and a pre-schooler; never mind the mental imagery that came with that particular metaphor. "Ezekiel," She wasn't going to touch the whips and chains comment in serious conversation, "if you refer to me as Kiki again, I shall be forced to take drastic measures."
That was right, Kelly, leave it pathetically ominous. Because aside from sitting in the aforementioned petulant silence all night, there really was nothing she was capable of specifically referring to. E-mail Marie? Out on the fact she'd be fired. Walk out? Out on the fact they had a deal. Shank a ho? Out on the fact she would be laughed out of town. Though really, she could have simply told him she would discontinue writing to him in prison; but those threatenings were for another time, and another conjugal trailer. I mean. What? "Yes, you caught me." A slower sip of the beer this time, the point had already been proven with previous chuggings. "Secretly I'm bored of my prinked and coiffed life of a PDA wielding personal assistant, with my morals and schedules. And that's why I'm sitting here with you, waiting to be drunkenly pawed. Really, Easy, don't you get bored of cheap lines and cheaper teenagers?"
[At which point the scene was called on account of Game Closing, though one can imagine that Kelly did, eventually, escape unmolested, but not without having planted the seed of interest which would later grow into their torrid letters-and-conjugal-trailers affair after Easy's tragic imprisonment. How's that for romantic?]