Late-night date
This time, it wasn't so much keeping her happy as . . . I don't know. Keeping myself happy? Getting out of the club, away from the politicking and scheming, the whispers and the stares, and basking in the frank, no-strings attention of an accomplished lover - what the hell. Even God rested on the last day, and I'm far busier than He is at the moment, from the looks of things.
Now that I'm home again, I know that I'll sleep well, too: all worries drugged to stillness, nagging thoughts firmly silenced. Not well enough for another pretty present, but I'll give her that dance at the party, since she asked. It's a small enough price to pay when dealing with one of her kind.
6/23/2005
Logfile from Shaw.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's been a long day. And not a particularly enjoyable one either. Poor Sabella needed to ease the pain in her heart, so she decided to ease it with thoughts of someone she doesn't find threatening in the least. Atleast, someone she's not overly worried she'll fall for. Unless that falling involves a bed. Or ther nearest patch of grass as the case may be. She made a phone call once the repairs to the weight room were finished, invited Sebastian out to dinner and a movie. She wanted off the island and away from her overly haunting thoughts. Agreeing to meet in the same place they last saw each other, Sabella waits. She looks stunning in her black gown. It's similar to the one Shaw saw her in that night at the tavern, except this one laces up in the front rather than having a solid strip of fabric, revealing tantilizing peeks of flesh. The Succubus waits, eyes settled on the water, a sad, overly thoughtfull expression on her face.
Shaw strolls along the reservoir path just as he did that day, the day of the bushes, although he's dressed for a low-key evening out this time: simple slacks and shirt, in hues of grey and shifting red-black, like a pool of blood in a dark alley. He wears it easily, wears it well, like his insouciant expression and that arrogant stroll. No need for him to worry about muggers in the park . . . and anyway, Succubus is more dangerous than they. He glides up to her, stopping a few good feet away, and admires the view -- of her. "Love the dress, Sabella. Is it new?"
Sabella doesn't seem to notice him at first, which is unusual, though it doesn't take her long once his voice rings through the air, shattering her thoughts. Sabella turns her head with a casual ease, smiles already pulled into some semblance of a smile. "Mmhmm, I decided to go shopping right after I called you. So other than the sales girl, you're the first to see it on me. Or atleast the first person to see it that actually matters." She winks and slowly begins to turn, admiring him the way he was just admiring her. "That shirt is to die for darling. I love the color scheme." Because it matches her hair. And what girl wouldn't love that?
"I thought you would," Shaw says smugly and bends to kiss her cheek. It's chaste, unlike the look lingering over that dress and the form and figure within its luxuriant confines. "Is this a special occasion, then?"
"Do you already know me so well?" Sabella asks, sounding amused as her chin tilts to allow him better acess to her cheek. You see! This was exactly what she needed, a nice night with someone who looks at her with fire in his eyes. The fire of lust. May they both burn in it. "Not really. I think I just needed to get out. I hope I didn't ruin any plans you might have had?"
Shaw, straightening, shakes his head. "No, nothing. I'm boring," he reminds her with mock-humility. "Utterly uninteresting and unimportant . . . which is where you come in, to give me sweet purpose, my dear." He sighs; his eyes dance at her. "I'm your obedient servant tonight, since you asked me out. What do you want to do first?"
Sabella reaches a single hand upward, gentle, lilthe fingertips brushing against his cheek. "Boring darling? Really now, I believe you're underestimating yourself. Our last meeting was hardly uninteresting." Her fingers slip back to gently stroke the back of his neck before sweeping through his hair, releasing and sliding into his arm as Sabella takes her place at his side. "Though I have been sadly lacking in obediant servants lately, so who am I to argue?" Using her free hand, the raven haired beauty taps a finger against blood red lips. "Dinner I think. Then perhaps we'll catch a movie? Though if you're too tired after dinner we can always rent.. and watch it at my place." She gaze up at him looking positively wicked.
Shaw's glance back down is equal parts amusement and intrigue. "It might be a good plan," he allows and snugs that arm warmly around her. "Just a night off, no pressure and no strings -- I think that's what's called for right now, yes?" Oh, so obedient, solicitous, demure. He might be playing a role, or honest about the luxury of sharing a little peace and quiet. Hard to tell, as they move along towards that dinner. "I'm almost afraid to wonder what movie you have in mind, too. If it's a chick flick, I do think I'll have to pass, so you don't have to revive me from a death from sugar-shock."
"No pressure, no strings." Sabella repeats, assuring him that it's what she desires as well. "Just two people enjoying each other's company." The arm is appretiated more than Shaw knows, and Sabella more than willing shows that appretiation by curling up against his body as they walk, one arm draping around his waist, a single finger linking through one of his belt loops. "Honestly Sebastian! Do I look like the kind of woman to watch a chick flick?" She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Actually I'm a fan of action movies. Horror as well. Though I'll gladly let you pick tonight's film as long as it doesn't involve anythig political."
With a satisfied grunt for that ground rule, at least, Shaw admits, "Well, you never know until you ask, darling. I mean, how well do you and I really know each other? Encounters here and there . . ." His gaze darts back at the bushes, and he smirks a little. "And everywhere, but that's superficial. Casual. I don't know your taste in movies any more than you know mine in -- well, I don't know. And see? Now we have dinner conversation! We can play Twenty Questions with each other. If you want," he adds, because he's being the nice guy, obedient and all.
"Too true. I guess I just assume that people would think that I wasn't the kind of woman to watch chick flicks. Always assuming that my reputation has procceeded me." Sabella winks, somehow managing to get even closer and still be able to walk at the same time. "I do enjoy good dinner conversation." She seems to ponder it for a moment before nodding at the idea. "I don't see any harm in getting to know each other a little better. Though I do hope I manage to keep my feminine mystique about myself after you've asked your questions. A woman can't give too much away to her lovers after all." It takes all the fun out of it.
Shaw sniffs. "I wouldn't be anywhere in life, Sabella, if I trusted to reputation. Word of mouth's too unreliable; I prefer to go to the source directly." Tightening his arm around her, he continues in a low, pleased rumble, "Especially if the source is as willing and accomplished as you. Makes interrogation much more enjoyable. So. We shall dine and trade cute questions and then take in a movie, and I promise not to pierce any mystique unless specifically requested. Fair enough?"
Sabella chuckles softly, letting the rumble from her chest echo across his skin with just a hint of power behind it. In all honesty she still doesn't have control over the new changes in her seduction and isn't even aware she's done anything, but suddenly, in Shaw's mind he can smell her a little more more, feel her touch more closely, her voice more clear in his mind as though their surroundings don't matter for that split second. Innocent eyes gaze up at him as Bella smiles. "Well, I do enjoy a good interigation so that sounds fair to me."
A step strides a little too long, as if Shaw has to reach out to catch suddenly fluttering balance, but he manages the adjustment smoothly. Doesn't even muss his pretty shirt. He makes a noncommittal noise, peers down at her with a smile of hooded eyes and cautious curiosity. "Nice touch," is all he says to the brush of seductive power, before he retreats back to his bunker of inoffensive cheer. "Interrogation it is! Now, point me towards this restaurant you've picked out, and we can get started."
Sabella looks momentarily confused. "I'm sorry?" Is asked as though she honestly has no idea what in the blazes he's talking about. But it's shrugged off at the mention of restaurants her finger reaching out to point to a cute little bistro not too far off. "I figured it was cute, and we could find a somewhat secluded booth. What do you think?" Well it doesn't matter what he thinks as she starts guiding him towards it anyway.
Shaw squeezes her again and answers to her confusion, "The feel of you against me, silly. I like it." And off they go to the bistro, with his silent consent to her decision.
Sabella feels her body quiver at his words and can't help but smile up at him. See, these are the things a Succubus needs to hear sometimes! "Well, I'm glad you enjoy it darling, because you're stuck with me for tonight." Sabella detatches her body from his, but links their fingers together as she leads the way into the bistro, gesturing to the waiter that they've arrived. He nods and leads them in the direction of a private booth.
"Very good," Shaw approves: of her, of the bistro, of the booth, into which he slides with slow, careful motions. Mustn't look like a lumbering beast in front of the beauty. Once he's settled, he returns his attention to her, bright-eyed and quirk-lipped. "Do you know what's good here, or should we just throw caution to the wind and take our chances?"
Sabella beams with pride at the admiration of herself and her choice as she also slides into her seat. Though it's done with quite a bit more grace than Shaw's currently managing. "I'm glad you approve." She murmurs sweetly and bats her lashes demurely before gesturing towards the menu. "They have quite a selection actually, but the last time I was here I had the Crab Manicotti, it was delicious, so I think I'll stick with that for myself."
Shaw pores over the menu, then. "The grilled sea bass for me," he finally decides. "And the appropriate wine, I presume?" He'll leave that to her or the waiter; he's content to recline in his seat now, the menu tossed back onto the table, and sink a little into giving, cushioning leather while he watches her like a great contented cat. "Did you have an awful day, that you needed to get out?"
"But of course darling. They have only the finest here, so it'd be hard to find the /wrong/ wine." This little bistro is one of Sabella's guilty pleasures, Shaw should be honored she chose to bring him here. "I'll allow the chef to chose as I'm not overly picky when the selection is this good." Rather than sitting back, Sabella leans forward, arms folded on the table as she smiles, a sudden darkness flickering in her eyes. "Let's just say it's been a tough couple of weeks and today it all sort of.. hit me."
Shaw cocks his head, but waits to respond until the waiter has come and gone with their orders. Then he stretches out his arm along the seat's back, making shadow ripple anew down his shirt's shade-shifting fabric, and he considers her. "I'm sorry to hear it, darling. Is there anything I could help with? I wouldn't mind pounding a few heads in, now that I think of it. . . ."
Sabella can't help but chuckle softly at his offer, eyes slipping down to the table as she seems to ponder it for a moment, not that she's actually ask him to pound Erik's head, but She does wonder who'd win. It really depends on who's on the defensive and who gets the first shot she imagines. "As sweet as that offer is, I'm afraid that violence isn't the answer to this little problem. But I did manage to get some agression out on the weight room. Though I tore the poor room into shreds and was later reprimanded for it." She glances back to Shaw. "You can imagine how well that went over." As she's not the type to enjoy being reprimanded for anything.
Shaw's smirk returns for a moment. "Yes, I can. I hope you didn't leave the attendants all bloody, too; that's a worse mess than wrecked equipment." His hand along the seat back taps idle fingertips. "What happened?" he asks with simple directness.
"Hardly. I actually was a good little girl, sucked up my reprimands and went on my way. After getting some people to help me clean up the mess I made." Sabella shrugs and gently lays one hand on the table, fingers stretched in his direction. Well, here we go with the twenty questions. She may as well answer honestly. "There's been quite a bit that's happened, but what finally forced me into some form of action was concern over a child that's quite dear to me."
Shaw's arm slides down from the booth's rim, and he sits up, sits forward, and rests his hand across from hers, with naked inches between their fingers. "You /are/ a good girl," he murmurs like rumpled velvet, his eyes no less dark than his voice, "and I believe you. And . . . a child? Yours?"
Sabella can feel every one of those inches like a physcial barrier between them, but keeps her hand where it is for the moment. "I have my moments." She smirks in regards to that first comment. She doesn't mention the fact that she wouldn't dare do anything /but/ react how she did for fear of being crushed by large pieces of metal. "Yes. He's mine. Though.. not only mine. I gave birth to him, but he's currently with his other set of parents. It's a long, complicated story."
Shaw lifts a quick, brusque shoulder, dismissing the story part of it (might not want to use up all of his questions!) in favor of pressing gently, "And you're worried about the boy. Is he sick? Or in trouble?"
"Both actually. But we've known about him being sick for quite awhile, so that's nothing new. And he's not in trouble /yet/ but he could be, very easily and very soon. And from where I stand in his life right now, there's very little I can do about it." Sabella's quite vague, but atleast he gets the gist of it. "It's all just very frustrating. And the one person I thought I could talk to about it made me feel like a child for being concerned. Something I do -not- appretiate."
Shaw nods along with the explanation, and then he inches his fingers closer to clasp hers lightly. "I'm sorry," he says again, "as inane and futile as that is. Did you beat up the weight room instead of this so-called friend of yours?"
Sabella finds the comfort she's been seeking all day in that tiny grasp and settles a small smile in Shaw's direction. "Thank you." She whispers softly, gazing at him now through her lashes so she can attempt to hide atleast some of the pain that's shimmering there. "Actually the weight room came before the friend. The weight room getting torn to pieces was so ensure that I could remain calm during the rest of the day rather than snapping at someone who really doesn't deserve being ripped into shreds."
"Well, if she was treating you like that, maybe she did." Shaw isn't splitting niceties here; that's not his style, and isn't he still the obedient servant, honoring all her whims and needs? He pats her hand. "I admire your restraint, Sabella. You're a better person than I, in that situation."
"Well, she's been there for me for quite awhile, and has put up with more than her share of my misbehaviors." Sabella shrugs, not sure why she's making excuses. She just isn't ready to admit that she could possibly be losing the only person she's ever trusted quite so much. "Soooo, time to change the subject to something a little more pleasant. What do you say?"
With a smile's twist and another pat, Shaw sits back and glances towards the kitchen. Food coming? It would be appropriate. "Absolutely it is. I think I owe you some questions now." He folds his hands before him in his best innocent-plaintiff facade. "Shoot."
Sabella ponders quietly as her hands pull back into her lap. His glance towards the kitchen earns a grin as Sabella tilts her head, seeming to be listening for something for a moment. "Give it another two minutes, they're arranging the plates to perfection as we speak." She informs him before chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Have you ever been married? Or sired any children?"
"Thank you. I'm only imagining I can smell my bass from here, then." Not for Sebastian Shaw the hyperactive reach of senses; he has to rely on blunter, crueler power. Wouldn't know it to see him now, though, on this friendly, cozy date . . . until she asks /that/ question and his expression stills, just for a single pounded heartbeat. "No, I haven't been married, and I don't have any children, not that I know of. There've been a few paternity suits in the past, but anyone with enough money will get that." A dash of cruelty, then, in his smile. "The harassers stopped; I made sure of it. I've been left alone now for years."
Sabella can hear his heart pound harshly for that one second and wonders if he's being entirely truthful. "Mmm, I suppose that you must have gotten pounded quite off with suits like that." Sabella muses as she watches the waiter start to exit the kitchen with their food. "I'm lucky in the fact that I'm a woman with money, so nobody could pull something like that on me." Only after the food and the wine is deposited and the waiter has left does she ask her next question. "Made sure of it? Was there plenty of head pounding?"
Shaw picks up his fork, pauses, and then shakes his head. He's in firm control of his demeanor, which isn't quite the easiness he'd been projecting before questioning turned on him. "No, I had lawyers for that. A few well-chosen words here and there -- you get the idea." He prods the bass's firm, steaming flesh speculatively. "I . . . was engaged once." Another sharp spike of blood pressure. He carves off a bite and begins to chew stolidly, watching her.
Sabella's eyes drift to Shaw's at that second spike, narrowing slightly. "Then you've gotten closer than I have." she states and tilts her glass in a 'cheers' type of gesture before taking a sip of the wine within. She can tell that this line of questioning isn't making him happy, and right now, she wants to keep things easy and fun, so again, she'll change the subject. "So what kind of movies do -you- like?"
Shaw chews. He swallows. He reaches for his glass. He swallows a carefully controlled mouthful of wine. Then he measures out, just as meticulously, "Closer than I wanted, in the end, considering." He starts to go on, but shakes his head. Yes, 'easy and fun.' "And here's where I make my shameful confession, Sabella dear: I'm not a movie person. Never have been; maybe never will be." He makes big, soft, dark eyes at her. "Should I leave now?"
Sabella watches each motion as she takes her own fork in hand and spears a piece of pasta wrapped seafood with it. "I assumed you didn't really want to get into it." She explains quietly and smiles, her look showing that she'll be willing to listen if it's something he wants to get off his chest. "Not a movie person!" she exclaims quietly and presses a hand against her chest, at the same time forcing the dress to tighten, so that peeks of flesh can be all the more tantilizing against the laced up front. Surely it's just a coincedence. Surely. "Nono.. you may stay, though now I'm simply going to have to wrack my brain as to other ways I can entertain you."
Inclining his head to her explanation, her smile, Shaw moves right along. Obedience. "I have no doubt," he says, levelling his fork at her with a cocked, cocky look, "that you can find any number of ways to do /that,/ even besides the obvious." He has another bite, another swallow. Thinking now. "I like card games."
Sabella presses her lips into the sweetest, most innocent pout she can muster, which is actually quite convincing when she tries. "I really do like the obvious." she states in a soft voice before batting big, green eyes at him. Again, it's an expression she can't hold for long as she grins, biting down on her fork as she ponders. "I can play poker?"
Shaw's stern poise breaks into a chuckle. "Yes, I seem to recall that you do -- and I do, too. Temptress," he accuses her, drawing out the final sound into a tongue-tickling hiss. "We could play poker, if you like, or we could watch a movie to give you the chance to sway me to your nefarious side. Or--" he lifts his wine for a drink that matches his smile to the glass's rim "--there's the obvious."
Sabella mmms as the hiss and offers a seductive smile. "I've been called worse." She informs him before spearing another piece of pasta and popping it into her mouth, watching him all the while. "Or we could play poker, then watch a movie, and then the obvious? Not neccessarily in that order." Reaching for her wine glass, Bella seems to ponder it for a second. "Poker's the one where you take off all your clothes if you lose right?" Another sweet bat of her lashes. "That's the kind of card game I could really get behind."
Chuckle expands to a laugh, and Shaw accuses her with another poke of fork, "Whatever happened to Twenty Questions? Though I suppose information isn't as interesting as sex, or as enlightening." With an arch look, he bites off more bass. "Not the way you do it, anyway."
Sabella joins in the laughter as she quickly devours another few bites of food before gently laying her fork to the side of her plate in order to finish off her glass of wine. "We can still play twenty questions if you'd like. There's still time." Her smile grows at his arched look. "Yes well, you'll never find someone who can do it quite like me. I'm one of a kind."
Shaw regards her with fondness, then raises his glass anew. "Yes, I will drink to that, my clever witch. A toast, then, to uniqueness and a certain wicked, singular focus on skill."
Sabella raises her glass, letting it gently clink against his own. "A fine toast, my darling. But let's add a little shall we? Or rather.. a promise, for as long as you warm my bed, you will never be bored." That's something he can rely on." She smiles and takes a sip of her drink before something flashes behind her eyes. "Oh, before I forget, you will be saving me a dance at the Ball yes?
Shaw places his glass on the table just so and resumes methodical eating. "I didn't know you were coming, darling, but of course, of course! A little costume dress-up to take away our identities and our sins." He spins out the idea with innocent wistfulness, against black eyes' twinkling snap. "I can't wait."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sebastian darling. Though I'm afraid despite the costumes I'll have a distinct advantage in knowing who hides behind what masks." Sablla taps the side of her nose. As long as she knows the person's scent, she'll know who it is. "And it will take quite a bit more than playing dress up to take away my sins." His quiet wistfulness earns an honest reaction from the Succubus. "Neither can I."
"Well," says Shaw, reaching for her hand with his free one, "we can dance and amaze everyone and make them wish they were us: powerful, wicked, and free. How's that?"
Sabella eagerly allows the hand to grasp her own, squeezing softly to show her pleasure at the thought. "Mmm, you know just the right things to say to a woman." Sabella purrs. "Though I'm sure you hear that all the time." What she doesn't say is how lovely that sounds. Another guilty pleasure of hers is dancing. Something she hasn't truly done since, well since Bella danced with Alexi oh so long ago.
Shaw's thumb rubs over hers and ducks into a sly stroke of her palm, with the nail digging in for a quick-nipped bite at the end. His gaze is heavy, steady, amused again. "I've had years of practice, dear, and plenty of incentive to learn. How's your dinner, by the way? Satisfying that hunger, I hope."
Sabella's breath catches, lids drooping over her eyes as she feels the bite of his nail into flesh. So quickly he's learned the little things to bring a Succubus to her knees. "I'm afraid food alone is not going to sate the hunger burning inside of me at the moment." Sabella states in a tone so low, so hungry that the waiter who was quickly approaching to ask how everything was goes wide eyed and falters in his step.
Without looking away from his companion, without removing his slowly rocking fingernail from her flesh, Shaw lassos the man with a soft rope of command: "The check, please." And tightening to a garotte: "/Now./"
The poor man can merely nod once, mummbling something in italian before rushing off to get the check, nearly causing a collision on this way to do it. Not that Sabella is noticing much of anything beyond Shaw's face and the feel of his hand on hers. "So demanding." she tsks, though it's rather obviously she -like's- it.
"I haven't heard you complain before," Shaw tells her quietly. He leaves off the thumb's idle work and lets their hands rest in quiescence on the table. His physical indicators are creeping up the charts, but he remains in control -- oh, experienced, matured control, yes. "Did you still want to play poker?"
"What can I say; I like my men forceful." Sabella admits with a dazzling, seductive grin, her arms riddled with goosebumps as she begins to smell the subtle changein his pheremones, her own body responding in kind. "I can think of other, better games to play." Perhaps they can play poker later?
Yes. The answer's implicit to her implicit question in Shaw's slow, dark grin. He releases her to slap out a credit card for the check, and he says, "'Forceful' is not, darling, at /all/ a problem with me. And games . . ." His expression sharpens; his scent swells with musk. "Maybe you have a new one to teach me? I promise to be a quick learner."
Sabella is now practically drowning in him, the scent, the feel, the sight. If they weren't in a restuarant at this particular moment she'd already have him on the floor. Perhaps it's the fact that she has to wait that's killing her more than anything else. "So I've noticed. It's one of the things I positively adore about you." She purrs as the waiter takes the card and hurries to go swipe it through. He's just as eager to get them out as they are to leave. "I have many games to teach you. Perhaps I'll show you more than one tonight. Assuming you think you can keep up."
"Also not a problem," Shaw tells her flatly, assuredly. "We all have our particular skills, Sabella; you know some of mine." Though he might not often use his mutation for /that/ kind of endurance. Mmmmaybe not. "You adore me? Oh, darling. And here I thought you were just using me, in the most delightful way." His gaze dotes on her; his hand tightens slowly, suggesting mutation's power, too. "As an obedient servant, right?"
Sabella tingles all over at the thought of some of his talents, her lips parting seductively as she tries to find her breath. "Oh. I am using you my sweet darling, don't get me wrong. But sometimes even obediant servants deserve some level of adoration." Besides, if she didn't adore him for his skills or abilities, he'd be dead by now. Or she atleast would not be wasting her time with him. "And is my little servant ready to take his Mistress home?" she asks as her own nails begin to twist along the back of his hand, her powers once more loosed upon his mind unknowingly.
Shaw holds a breath steady in his chest as the waiter creeps tentatively near to slide over card and receipt and then flee for safety. Sebastian hardly notices (though he does, thoughtful businessman that he is, pocket the leavings) for his black-eyed focus on the dazzling creature courting and capturing him. "Yes," he says, just that, and obediently tugs at her hand on the way to standing.
Sabella doesn't even notice the waiter. So much for heightened senses. They just aren't all that useful when you're soley focused on someone. Caught up in those black eyes, Sabella allows herself to be tugged from her seat, her body gliding far too gracefully to his side, pressing along the line of his body with her own, smaller frame. Her chin tilts as she rises to her tiptoes so that her lips can brush along his as she speaks. "Let's play." He's going to either have to pick her up, or drag her along behind him, because there's no way she's willing to pry herself off of him long enough to walk.
Oh, Shaw is happy to drag, but there's the bistro patrons to think of, the passersby on the street, the drivers of all the neighborhood's cars. . . . So, instead, he braces her with one strong arm, for more of a support than a drag, and walks her out that way, murmuring into her hair, "Lead on, lady. Lead on."
Sabella allows herself to be manhandled, and someone manages to make her legs work, leading Shaw with her body even as she curls up against his side. The trip back to her Penthouse is a quick one, and Sabella finds it a littletoo difficult to keep her hands off of him on the trip up to the thirteenth floor. But she somehow manages self control and guides the man into her penthouse, slamming the door behind them. Sebastian, the poor devil, is in for a very long night.
[Log ends.]
Now that I'm home again, I know that I'll sleep well, too: all worries drugged to stillness, nagging thoughts firmly silenced. Not well enough for another pretty present, but I'll give her that dance at the party, since she asked. It's a small enough price to pay when dealing with one of her kind.
6/23/2005
Logfile from Shaw.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's been a long day. And not a particularly enjoyable one either. Poor Sabella needed to ease the pain in her heart, so she decided to ease it with thoughts of someone she doesn't find threatening in the least. Atleast, someone she's not overly worried she'll fall for. Unless that falling involves a bed. Or ther nearest patch of grass as the case may be. She made a phone call once the repairs to the weight room were finished, invited Sebastian out to dinner and a movie. She wanted off the island and away from her overly haunting thoughts. Agreeing to meet in the same place they last saw each other, Sabella waits. She looks stunning in her black gown. It's similar to the one Shaw saw her in that night at the tavern, except this one laces up in the front rather than having a solid strip of fabric, revealing tantilizing peeks of flesh. The Succubus waits, eyes settled on the water, a sad, overly thoughtfull expression on her face.
Shaw strolls along the reservoir path just as he did that day, the day of the bushes, although he's dressed for a low-key evening out this time: simple slacks and shirt, in hues of grey and shifting red-black, like a pool of blood in a dark alley. He wears it easily, wears it well, like his insouciant expression and that arrogant stroll. No need for him to worry about muggers in the park . . . and anyway, Succubus is more dangerous than they. He glides up to her, stopping a few good feet away, and admires the view -- of her. "Love the dress, Sabella. Is it new?"
Sabella doesn't seem to notice him at first, which is unusual, though it doesn't take her long once his voice rings through the air, shattering her thoughts. Sabella turns her head with a casual ease, smiles already pulled into some semblance of a smile. "Mmhmm, I decided to go shopping right after I called you. So other than the sales girl, you're the first to see it on me. Or atleast the first person to see it that actually matters." She winks and slowly begins to turn, admiring him the way he was just admiring her. "That shirt is to die for darling. I love the color scheme." Because it matches her hair. And what girl wouldn't love that?
"I thought you would," Shaw says smugly and bends to kiss her cheek. It's chaste, unlike the look lingering over that dress and the form and figure within its luxuriant confines. "Is this a special occasion, then?"
"Do you already know me so well?" Sabella asks, sounding amused as her chin tilts to allow him better acess to her cheek. You see! This was exactly what she needed, a nice night with someone who looks at her with fire in his eyes. The fire of lust. May they both burn in it. "Not really. I think I just needed to get out. I hope I didn't ruin any plans you might have had?"
Shaw, straightening, shakes his head. "No, nothing. I'm boring," he reminds her with mock-humility. "Utterly uninteresting and unimportant . . . which is where you come in, to give me sweet purpose, my dear." He sighs; his eyes dance at her. "I'm your obedient servant tonight, since you asked me out. What do you want to do first?"
Sabella reaches a single hand upward, gentle, lilthe fingertips brushing against his cheek. "Boring darling? Really now, I believe you're underestimating yourself. Our last meeting was hardly uninteresting." Her fingers slip back to gently stroke the back of his neck before sweeping through his hair, releasing and sliding into his arm as Sabella takes her place at his side. "Though I have been sadly lacking in obediant servants lately, so who am I to argue?" Using her free hand, the raven haired beauty taps a finger against blood red lips. "Dinner I think. Then perhaps we'll catch a movie? Though if you're too tired after dinner we can always rent.. and watch it at my place." She gaze up at him looking positively wicked.
Shaw's glance back down is equal parts amusement and intrigue. "It might be a good plan," he allows and snugs that arm warmly around her. "Just a night off, no pressure and no strings -- I think that's what's called for right now, yes?" Oh, so obedient, solicitous, demure. He might be playing a role, or honest about the luxury of sharing a little peace and quiet. Hard to tell, as they move along towards that dinner. "I'm almost afraid to wonder what movie you have in mind, too. If it's a chick flick, I do think I'll have to pass, so you don't have to revive me from a death from sugar-shock."
"No pressure, no strings." Sabella repeats, assuring him that it's what she desires as well. "Just two people enjoying each other's company." The arm is appretiated more than Shaw knows, and Sabella more than willing shows that appretiation by curling up against his body as they walk, one arm draping around his waist, a single finger linking through one of his belt loops. "Honestly Sebastian! Do I look like the kind of woman to watch a chick flick?" She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Actually I'm a fan of action movies. Horror as well. Though I'll gladly let you pick tonight's film as long as it doesn't involve anythig political."
With a satisfied grunt for that ground rule, at least, Shaw admits, "Well, you never know until you ask, darling. I mean, how well do you and I really know each other? Encounters here and there . . ." His gaze darts back at the bushes, and he smirks a little. "And everywhere, but that's superficial. Casual. I don't know your taste in movies any more than you know mine in -- well, I don't know. And see? Now we have dinner conversation! We can play Twenty Questions with each other. If you want," he adds, because he's being the nice guy, obedient and all.
"Too true. I guess I just assume that people would think that I wasn't the kind of woman to watch chick flicks. Always assuming that my reputation has procceeded me." Sabella winks, somehow managing to get even closer and still be able to walk at the same time. "I do enjoy good dinner conversation." She seems to ponder it for a moment before nodding at the idea. "I don't see any harm in getting to know each other a little better. Though I do hope I manage to keep my feminine mystique about myself after you've asked your questions. A woman can't give too much away to her lovers after all." It takes all the fun out of it.
Shaw sniffs. "I wouldn't be anywhere in life, Sabella, if I trusted to reputation. Word of mouth's too unreliable; I prefer to go to the source directly." Tightening his arm around her, he continues in a low, pleased rumble, "Especially if the source is as willing and accomplished as you. Makes interrogation much more enjoyable. So. We shall dine and trade cute questions and then take in a movie, and I promise not to pierce any mystique unless specifically requested. Fair enough?"
Sabella chuckles softly, letting the rumble from her chest echo across his skin with just a hint of power behind it. In all honesty she still doesn't have control over the new changes in her seduction and isn't even aware she's done anything, but suddenly, in Shaw's mind he can smell her a little more more, feel her touch more closely, her voice more clear in his mind as though their surroundings don't matter for that split second. Innocent eyes gaze up at him as Bella smiles. "Well, I do enjoy a good interigation so that sounds fair to me."
A step strides a little too long, as if Shaw has to reach out to catch suddenly fluttering balance, but he manages the adjustment smoothly. Doesn't even muss his pretty shirt. He makes a noncommittal noise, peers down at her with a smile of hooded eyes and cautious curiosity. "Nice touch," is all he says to the brush of seductive power, before he retreats back to his bunker of inoffensive cheer. "Interrogation it is! Now, point me towards this restaurant you've picked out, and we can get started."
Sabella looks momentarily confused. "I'm sorry?" Is asked as though she honestly has no idea what in the blazes he's talking about. But it's shrugged off at the mention of restaurants her finger reaching out to point to a cute little bistro not too far off. "I figured it was cute, and we could find a somewhat secluded booth. What do you think?" Well it doesn't matter what he thinks as she starts guiding him towards it anyway.
Shaw squeezes her again and answers to her confusion, "The feel of you against me, silly. I like it." And off they go to the bistro, with his silent consent to her decision.
Sabella feels her body quiver at his words and can't help but smile up at him. See, these are the things a Succubus needs to hear sometimes! "Well, I'm glad you enjoy it darling, because you're stuck with me for tonight." Sabella detatches her body from his, but links their fingers together as she leads the way into the bistro, gesturing to the waiter that they've arrived. He nods and leads them in the direction of a private booth.
"Very good," Shaw approves: of her, of the bistro, of the booth, into which he slides with slow, careful motions. Mustn't look like a lumbering beast in front of the beauty. Once he's settled, he returns his attention to her, bright-eyed and quirk-lipped. "Do you know what's good here, or should we just throw caution to the wind and take our chances?"
Sabella beams with pride at the admiration of herself and her choice as she also slides into her seat. Though it's done with quite a bit more grace than Shaw's currently managing. "I'm glad you approve." She murmurs sweetly and bats her lashes demurely before gesturing towards the menu. "They have quite a selection actually, but the last time I was here I had the Crab Manicotti, it was delicious, so I think I'll stick with that for myself."
Shaw pores over the menu, then. "The grilled sea bass for me," he finally decides. "And the appropriate wine, I presume?" He'll leave that to her or the waiter; he's content to recline in his seat now, the menu tossed back onto the table, and sink a little into giving, cushioning leather while he watches her like a great contented cat. "Did you have an awful day, that you needed to get out?"
"But of course darling. They have only the finest here, so it'd be hard to find the /wrong/ wine." This little bistro is one of Sabella's guilty pleasures, Shaw should be honored she chose to bring him here. "I'll allow the chef to chose as I'm not overly picky when the selection is this good." Rather than sitting back, Sabella leans forward, arms folded on the table as she smiles, a sudden darkness flickering in her eyes. "Let's just say it's been a tough couple of weeks and today it all sort of.. hit me."
Shaw cocks his head, but waits to respond until the waiter has come and gone with their orders. Then he stretches out his arm along the seat's back, making shadow ripple anew down his shirt's shade-shifting fabric, and he considers her. "I'm sorry to hear it, darling. Is there anything I could help with? I wouldn't mind pounding a few heads in, now that I think of it. . . ."
Sabella can't help but chuckle softly at his offer, eyes slipping down to the table as she seems to ponder it for a moment, not that she's actually ask him to pound Erik's head, but She does wonder who'd win. It really depends on who's on the defensive and who gets the first shot she imagines. "As sweet as that offer is, I'm afraid that violence isn't the answer to this little problem. But I did manage to get some agression out on the weight room. Though I tore the poor room into shreds and was later reprimanded for it." She glances back to Shaw. "You can imagine how well that went over." As she's not the type to enjoy being reprimanded for anything.
Shaw's smirk returns for a moment. "Yes, I can. I hope you didn't leave the attendants all bloody, too; that's a worse mess than wrecked equipment." His hand along the seat back taps idle fingertips. "What happened?" he asks with simple directness.
"Hardly. I actually was a good little girl, sucked up my reprimands and went on my way. After getting some people to help me clean up the mess I made." Sabella shrugs and gently lays one hand on the table, fingers stretched in his direction. Well, here we go with the twenty questions. She may as well answer honestly. "There's been quite a bit that's happened, but what finally forced me into some form of action was concern over a child that's quite dear to me."
Shaw's arm slides down from the booth's rim, and he sits up, sits forward, and rests his hand across from hers, with naked inches between their fingers. "You /are/ a good girl," he murmurs like rumpled velvet, his eyes no less dark than his voice, "and I believe you. And . . . a child? Yours?"
Sabella can feel every one of those inches like a physcial barrier between them, but keeps her hand where it is for the moment. "I have my moments." She smirks in regards to that first comment. She doesn't mention the fact that she wouldn't dare do anything /but/ react how she did for fear of being crushed by large pieces of metal. "Yes. He's mine. Though.. not only mine. I gave birth to him, but he's currently with his other set of parents. It's a long, complicated story."
Shaw lifts a quick, brusque shoulder, dismissing the story part of it (might not want to use up all of his questions!) in favor of pressing gently, "And you're worried about the boy. Is he sick? Or in trouble?"
"Both actually. But we've known about him being sick for quite awhile, so that's nothing new. And he's not in trouble /yet/ but he could be, very easily and very soon. And from where I stand in his life right now, there's very little I can do about it." Sabella's quite vague, but atleast he gets the gist of it. "It's all just very frustrating. And the one person I thought I could talk to about it made me feel like a child for being concerned. Something I do -not- appretiate."
Shaw nods along with the explanation, and then he inches his fingers closer to clasp hers lightly. "I'm sorry," he says again, "as inane and futile as that is. Did you beat up the weight room instead of this so-called friend of yours?"
Sabella finds the comfort she's been seeking all day in that tiny grasp and settles a small smile in Shaw's direction. "Thank you." She whispers softly, gazing at him now through her lashes so she can attempt to hide atleast some of the pain that's shimmering there. "Actually the weight room came before the friend. The weight room getting torn to pieces was so ensure that I could remain calm during the rest of the day rather than snapping at someone who really doesn't deserve being ripped into shreds."
"Well, if she was treating you like that, maybe she did." Shaw isn't splitting niceties here; that's not his style, and isn't he still the obedient servant, honoring all her whims and needs? He pats her hand. "I admire your restraint, Sabella. You're a better person than I, in that situation."
"Well, she's been there for me for quite awhile, and has put up with more than her share of my misbehaviors." Sabella shrugs, not sure why she's making excuses. She just isn't ready to admit that she could possibly be losing the only person she's ever trusted quite so much. "Soooo, time to change the subject to something a little more pleasant. What do you say?"
With a smile's twist and another pat, Shaw sits back and glances towards the kitchen. Food coming? It would be appropriate. "Absolutely it is. I think I owe you some questions now." He folds his hands before him in his best innocent-plaintiff facade. "Shoot."
Sabella ponders quietly as her hands pull back into her lap. His glance towards the kitchen earns a grin as Sabella tilts her head, seeming to be listening for something for a moment. "Give it another two minutes, they're arranging the plates to perfection as we speak." She informs him before chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Have you ever been married? Or sired any children?"
"Thank you. I'm only imagining I can smell my bass from here, then." Not for Sebastian Shaw the hyperactive reach of senses; he has to rely on blunter, crueler power. Wouldn't know it to see him now, though, on this friendly, cozy date . . . until she asks /that/ question and his expression stills, just for a single pounded heartbeat. "No, I haven't been married, and I don't have any children, not that I know of. There've been a few paternity suits in the past, but anyone with enough money will get that." A dash of cruelty, then, in his smile. "The harassers stopped; I made sure of it. I've been left alone now for years."
Sabella can hear his heart pound harshly for that one second and wonders if he's being entirely truthful. "Mmm, I suppose that you must have gotten pounded quite off with suits like that." Sabella muses as she watches the waiter start to exit the kitchen with their food. "I'm lucky in the fact that I'm a woman with money, so nobody could pull something like that on me." Only after the food and the wine is deposited and the waiter has left does she ask her next question. "Made sure of it? Was there plenty of head pounding?"
Shaw picks up his fork, pauses, and then shakes his head. He's in firm control of his demeanor, which isn't quite the easiness he'd been projecting before questioning turned on him. "No, I had lawyers for that. A few well-chosen words here and there -- you get the idea." He prods the bass's firm, steaming flesh speculatively. "I . . . was engaged once." Another sharp spike of blood pressure. He carves off a bite and begins to chew stolidly, watching her.
Sabella's eyes drift to Shaw's at that second spike, narrowing slightly. "Then you've gotten closer than I have." she states and tilts her glass in a 'cheers' type of gesture before taking a sip of the wine within. She can tell that this line of questioning isn't making him happy, and right now, she wants to keep things easy and fun, so again, she'll change the subject. "So what kind of movies do -you- like?"
Shaw chews. He swallows. He reaches for his glass. He swallows a carefully controlled mouthful of wine. Then he measures out, just as meticulously, "Closer than I wanted, in the end, considering." He starts to go on, but shakes his head. Yes, 'easy and fun.' "And here's where I make my shameful confession, Sabella dear: I'm not a movie person. Never have been; maybe never will be." He makes big, soft, dark eyes at her. "Should I leave now?"
Sabella watches each motion as she takes her own fork in hand and spears a piece of pasta wrapped seafood with it. "I assumed you didn't really want to get into it." She explains quietly and smiles, her look showing that she'll be willing to listen if it's something he wants to get off his chest. "Not a movie person!" she exclaims quietly and presses a hand against her chest, at the same time forcing the dress to tighten, so that peeks of flesh can be all the more tantilizing against the laced up front. Surely it's just a coincedence. Surely. "Nono.. you may stay, though now I'm simply going to have to wrack my brain as to other ways I can entertain you."
Inclining his head to her explanation, her smile, Shaw moves right along. Obedience. "I have no doubt," he says, levelling his fork at her with a cocked, cocky look, "that you can find any number of ways to do /that,/ even besides the obvious." He has another bite, another swallow. Thinking now. "I like card games."
Sabella presses her lips into the sweetest, most innocent pout she can muster, which is actually quite convincing when she tries. "I really do like the obvious." she states in a soft voice before batting big, green eyes at him. Again, it's an expression she can't hold for long as she grins, biting down on her fork as she ponders. "I can play poker?"
Shaw's stern poise breaks into a chuckle. "Yes, I seem to recall that you do -- and I do, too. Temptress," he accuses her, drawing out the final sound into a tongue-tickling hiss. "We could play poker, if you like, or we could watch a movie to give you the chance to sway me to your nefarious side. Or--" he lifts his wine for a drink that matches his smile to the glass's rim "--there's the obvious."
Sabella mmms as the hiss and offers a seductive smile. "I've been called worse." She informs him before spearing another piece of pasta and popping it into her mouth, watching him all the while. "Or we could play poker, then watch a movie, and then the obvious? Not neccessarily in that order." Reaching for her wine glass, Bella seems to ponder it for a second. "Poker's the one where you take off all your clothes if you lose right?" Another sweet bat of her lashes. "That's the kind of card game I could really get behind."
Chuckle expands to a laugh, and Shaw accuses her with another poke of fork, "Whatever happened to Twenty Questions? Though I suppose information isn't as interesting as sex, or as enlightening." With an arch look, he bites off more bass. "Not the way you do it, anyway."
Sabella joins in the laughter as she quickly devours another few bites of food before gently laying her fork to the side of her plate in order to finish off her glass of wine. "We can still play twenty questions if you'd like. There's still time." Her smile grows at his arched look. "Yes well, you'll never find someone who can do it quite like me. I'm one of a kind."
Shaw regards her with fondness, then raises his glass anew. "Yes, I will drink to that, my clever witch. A toast, then, to uniqueness and a certain wicked, singular focus on skill."
Sabella raises her glass, letting it gently clink against his own. "A fine toast, my darling. But let's add a little shall we? Or rather.. a promise, for as long as you warm my bed, you will never be bored." That's something he can rely on." She smiles and takes a sip of her drink before something flashes behind her eyes. "Oh, before I forget, you will be saving me a dance at the Ball yes?
Shaw places his glass on the table just so and resumes methodical eating. "I didn't know you were coming, darling, but of course, of course! A little costume dress-up to take away our identities and our sins." He spins out the idea with innocent wistfulness, against black eyes' twinkling snap. "I can't wait."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sebastian darling. Though I'm afraid despite the costumes I'll have a distinct advantage in knowing who hides behind what masks." Sablla taps the side of her nose. As long as she knows the person's scent, she'll know who it is. "And it will take quite a bit more than playing dress up to take away my sins." His quiet wistfulness earns an honest reaction from the Succubus. "Neither can I."
"Well," says Shaw, reaching for her hand with his free one, "we can dance and amaze everyone and make them wish they were us: powerful, wicked, and free. How's that?"
Sabella eagerly allows the hand to grasp her own, squeezing softly to show her pleasure at the thought. "Mmm, you know just the right things to say to a woman." Sabella purrs. "Though I'm sure you hear that all the time." What she doesn't say is how lovely that sounds. Another guilty pleasure of hers is dancing. Something she hasn't truly done since, well since Bella danced with Alexi oh so long ago.
Shaw's thumb rubs over hers and ducks into a sly stroke of her palm, with the nail digging in for a quick-nipped bite at the end. His gaze is heavy, steady, amused again. "I've had years of practice, dear, and plenty of incentive to learn. How's your dinner, by the way? Satisfying that hunger, I hope."
Sabella's breath catches, lids drooping over her eyes as she feels the bite of his nail into flesh. So quickly he's learned the little things to bring a Succubus to her knees. "I'm afraid food alone is not going to sate the hunger burning inside of me at the moment." Sabella states in a tone so low, so hungry that the waiter who was quickly approaching to ask how everything was goes wide eyed and falters in his step.
Without looking away from his companion, without removing his slowly rocking fingernail from her flesh, Shaw lassos the man with a soft rope of command: "The check, please." And tightening to a garotte: "/Now./"
The poor man can merely nod once, mummbling something in italian before rushing off to get the check, nearly causing a collision on this way to do it. Not that Sabella is noticing much of anything beyond Shaw's face and the feel of his hand on hers. "So demanding." she tsks, though it's rather obviously she -like's- it.
"I haven't heard you complain before," Shaw tells her quietly. He leaves off the thumb's idle work and lets their hands rest in quiescence on the table. His physical indicators are creeping up the charts, but he remains in control -- oh, experienced, matured control, yes. "Did you still want to play poker?"
"What can I say; I like my men forceful." Sabella admits with a dazzling, seductive grin, her arms riddled with goosebumps as she begins to smell the subtle changein his pheremones, her own body responding in kind. "I can think of other, better games to play." Perhaps they can play poker later?
Yes. The answer's implicit to her implicit question in Shaw's slow, dark grin. He releases her to slap out a credit card for the check, and he says, "'Forceful' is not, darling, at /all/ a problem with me. And games . . ." His expression sharpens; his scent swells with musk. "Maybe you have a new one to teach me? I promise to be a quick learner."
Sabella is now practically drowning in him, the scent, the feel, the sight. If they weren't in a restuarant at this particular moment she'd already have him on the floor. Perhaps it's the fact that she has to wait that's killing her more than anything else. "So I've noticed. It's one of the things I positively adore about you." She purrs as the waiter takes the card and hurries to go swipe it through. He's just as eager to get them out as they are to leave. "I have many games to teach you. Perhaps I'll show you more than one tonight. Assuming you think you can keep up."
"Also not a problem," Shaw tells her flatly, assuredly. "We all have our particular skills, Sabella; you know some of mine." Though he might not often use his mutation for /that/ kind of endurance. Mmmmaybe not. "You adore me? Oh, darling. And here I thought you were just using me, in the most delightful way." His gaze dotes on her; his hand tightens slowly, suggesting mutation's power, too. "As an obedient servant, right?"
Sabella tingles all over at the thought of some of his talents, her lips parting seductively as she tries to find her breath. "Oh. I am using you my sweet darling, don't get me wrong. But sometimes even obediant servants deserve some level of adoration." Besides, if she didn't adore him for his skills or abilities, he'd be dead by now. Or she atleast would not be wasting her time with him. "And is my little servant ready to take his Mistress home?" she asks as her own nails begin to twist along the back of his hand, her powers once more loosed upon his mind unknowingly.
Shaw holds a breath steady in his chest as the waiter creeps tentatively near to slide over card and receipt and then flee for safety. Sebastian hardly notices (though he does, thoughtful businessman that he is, pocket the leavings) for his black-eyed focus on the dazzling creature courting and capturing him. "Yes," he says, just that, and obediently tugs at her hand on the way to standing.
Sabella doesn't even notice the waiter. So much for heightened senses. They just aren't all that useful when you're soley focused on someone. Caught up in those black eyes, Sabella allows herself to be tugged from her seat, her body gliding far too gracefully to his side, pressing along the line of his body with her own, smaller frame. Her chin tilts as she rises to her tiptoes so that her lips can brush along his as she speaks. "Let's play." He's going to either have to pick her up, or drag her along behind him, because there's no way she's willing to pry herself off of him long enough to walk.
Oh, Shaw is happy to drag, but there's the bistro patrons to think of, the passersby on the street, the drivers of all the neighborhood's cars. . . . So, instead, he braces her with one strong arm, for more of a support than a drag, and walks her out that way, murmuring into her hair, "Lead on, lady. Lead on."
Sabella allows herself to be manhandled, and someone manages to make her legs work, leading Shaw with her body even as she curls up against his side. The trip back to her Penthouse is a quick one, and Sabella finds it a littletoo difficult to keep her hands off of him on the trip up to the thirteenth floor. But she somehow manages self control and guides the man into her penthouse, slamming the door behind them. Sebastian, the poor devil, is in for a very long night.
[Log ends.]