Happenstance
There hadn't been time to call in any of my new team, and frankly, at this early stage, I wasn't entirely sure that I could rely on them in a situation that I hadn't planned out and strategised thoroughly. And so, it was on my lonesome that I strode into the lobby of the W Hotel in Westwood, having broken out the nattiest and least action-worn
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The sheer confidence with which she spoke and moved spoke as much to me about her power as the fact of my inability to resist her instructions did. Whatever this particular vampire had in mind, I needed to begin preparing myself for its inevitability. Still, my eyes darted around the room, furtively searching for some other weapon with which to surprise my now captor.
"A name, please? I do so hate to call you by someone else's as I'm making you come."
I bristled. It wasn't as if I could call myself prudish by any standards these days, not with my continuing dalliance with Lilah, and it wasn't as if the woman now sitting beside me was unattractive-- not by a long stretch. I found myself not entirely blaming the poor souls who'd fallen under her influence. The idea of bedding a vampire, though, locked that attraction as quickly as I'd recognized it.
Unfortunately, the question was as much an imperative to me as all her other instructions had been.
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."
Tightening my jaw, I forced myself to concentrate. If I could keep her talking...
"And you would be...?"
"Please, though, it's Emma Frost. Madame sounds entirely too formal for occasions like this, don't you agree?"
The name was vaguely familiar. Perhaps something I'd read in the business section of the L.A. Times?
My questioning ended abruptly as I felt almost insubstantial tendrils floating through my mind, not unlike the sensation of fingers tracing through my hair, but without the actual physical displacement. The disconcerting feeling went on for only a few moments. Then, the voice inside my head.
{I'm no vampire. Merely a telepath. A mutant. Now that that is settled, why don't we relax a bit more?}
A mutant? My curiosity was piqued, in spite of myself. I'd only heard of them, read the sketchy reports in the news.
"I'll relax more if I had a better idea of what you're doing here in Los Angeles. The people you've used your... powers on. Are they unhurt? Are you planning anything I should worry about more than just getting the VIP treatment?"
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"Wesley," I purred, tasting the name on my lips. "Yes, it quite suits you. Although why do I think that you're not quite the prude that most Brits are?"
Really, he seemed too on edge, though. I mentally told him to remove his shirt for me. I was simply curious.
"I'll relax more if I had a better idea of what you're doing here in Los Angeles. The people you've used your... powers on. Are they unhurt? Are you planning anything I should worry about more than just getting the VIP treatment?"
Laughing, I lounged on the nearby bed. "Darling I'm here because I choose to be here. No one is hurt. I was merely looking about for something entertaining. Trust me, the Hellfire Club can be so incredibly dull, especially if..." I paused at his last words and removed the fur from my outfit.
"Would you like the VIP treatment? Or, should I expect it from you?" That was when his name hit me and I smiled. "Wolfram & Hart... they approached you to join them, didn't they?" One hand traced my neck, my breasts, and down lower so he could enjoy a better view.
"Perhaps you'd like to work for others who appreciate your..." My eyes swept down to his crotch.
"... your talents."
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"I haven't the slightest idea what you're getting at," I answered her through grit teeth. "But I wouldn't besmirch the British at the same time I was using that accent. You might fool an American, but not me."
It probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, and would likely earn me a little ire, but as I was apparently wholly powerless to Frost's suggestion, there was little left to lose. A moment later, I realised that misapprehension as my hands moved of their own volition to remove my shirt.
"Darling I'm here because I choose to be here. No one is hurt. I was merely looking about for something entertaining. Trust me, the Hellfire Club can be so incredibly dull..."
Frost slid the fur-collared cape off and regarded me carefully, looking every inch the predator sizing up its prey. It was a disconcerting end of the hunter's gaze to be on, and I fought against whatever compulsion was keeping me rooted to the spot.
"Would you like the VIP treatment? Or, should I expect it from you? Wolfram & Hart... they approached you to join them, didn't they?"
A wry smile curled my lips.
"I shouldn't be surprised that you're in bed with Wolfram & Hart, so to speak... you seem like a woman who's exactly their clientele."
Casual hand gestures became less casual, and I couldn't keep my eyes from following the white glove over curves and planes... no more than I could keep my traitorous body from responding to watching it.
"Perhaps you'd like to work for others who appreciate your... your talents."
"Sorry," I answered, "I'm quite happy being self-employed."
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