Title: Players
Author:
budclarePairing: Simon/?
Rating: PG-13
Recipient:
dirty_diana She sat in a dark corner of the bar, waiting for her mark to walk through the front door. She always knew them on sight; they were the ones with the neon signs above their heads saying "Play me". Well, all men had those, really, but some more than others. Some weren't even worth playing.
And one of the ones who was worth playing finally walked through the door. He was hot, dark haired and pale and intense, but that wasn't why she chose him. It made a wonderful change from the last dupe, but it wasn't the reason.
He looked wary. He hid it pretty well behind his solemn demeanor, but there was a keen wariness there. She liked that. Made it more fun.
She didn't move right away. She wanted him to feel comfortable in his surroundings. She waited while he settled himself at the bar, and while he ordered a drink, and while he drank most of it. She waited until he lost just a bit of that wary look, and then she smoothed her hair and strolled up to the bar.
"Another one of these, okay, Frank?" she said, planting her empty glass in front of her. She had made a point to learn the bartender's name. It made her seem like she was a regular here.
"Sure thing," he said, just as friendly as you please. He was wondering what pick-up lines would lure her into his bed, and how he could avoid his wife finding out about it.
Her mark was only a scant two feet away from her now, but he hadn't spoken nor, as far as she could tell, looked at her. He had to be aware of her, though--her perfume filling his head, her voice sending shivers down his spine. But he stared at his drink.
She made a show of looking him over, as if she hadn't noticed him before. A moment of feigned hesitation, and then she slid onto the stool next to his. "Hey," she said, tilting her head to the side and leaning further into his field of vision.
He looked up at her. "Hey," he said.
Not much of a talker, it seemed. Maybe this would be too easy after all. But she had to go with someone, so it might as well be him. "My name's Selene," she said, smiling in an attractive yet non-intimidating way. Wouldn't want to scare the poor boy off.
He swallowed before answering. How sweet, three words was all it took to make his mouth go dry. "Simon," he said. "I'm Simon."
She smiled more warmly, to put him at ease. "You're new here, right?"
"It's that obvious?"
"I just never saw you around before, is all."
"Ah," he said, downing the rest of his drink.
"You looked like you could use some company."
"The kind of company that steals my wallet?"
That startled her, just for an instant. She hated being startled. "I don't steal wallets," she said. Although she was considering it now. Call it a bonus. But at least he was going to be a bit of a challenge.
The bartender returned with her drink, then thankfully went off to the far end of the bar to chat with another customer.
Her mark, Simon, was amused. "What do you steal, then?" he asked with a smile that would have made a lesser woman's heart flip-flop.
She gave him one of her most genuine-looking smiles. "I have, on occasion, been known to steal hearts. Is that what you were worried about?"
His eyes flickered down to her breasts before he managed to catch himself and meet her eyes. "And what do you do with your spoils of war? Keep them in jars so that you can look at them and gloat?"
"Sell them on the black-market," she replied with a perfectly straight face.
He was startled now. Good.
Then he laughed at her joke, because obviously she must be joking, even if just for a moment he'd been sure that she was serious. She joined in, with a tinkling laugh and a slight brush of her breast against his arm.
He stopped laughing. "You're really something, Selene. You know that?" he asked, reaching out to play with a lock of her hair.
Her smile really was genuine this time, if only because she knew without a doubt that she had him. And not a moment too soon; she had an appointment with her business partners, and she'd hate for Simon to be late.
"Do you--do you want to--"
She cut him off with a finger against his lips. "I need to freshen up a bit. Then we can go...wherever you want."
He nodded.
She could feel his eyes following her as she crossed the room and disappeared down the hallway in the back. She went into the ladies room and took her time reapplying her lipstick, knowing that he was out there getting antsy-er by the minute.
She glanced up as the door opened, and nearly dropped her lipstick in the sink. "What are you--"
"You said wherever I wanted," he answered, pushing her back against the counter and pulling her into his arms at the same time. "This is where I want," he breathed, inches from her face.
Great. She had to pick a kinky one when she had a deadline to make. "But don't you want to--"
But he was already kissing her neck, sucking at it. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, kneading it and stroking it. She needed a new plan, and fast. Maybe her partners could come and pick the guy up here after she knocked him out. Or maybe she should scrap this one and find a less eager mark, one who would actually make it back to the hotel.
Either way, she needed him to kiss her on the lips. And that was, strangely, not happening. "Simon," she moaned, trying to detach him from her long enough to find his face.
He just grunted and nuzzled behind her ear. She gasped as he freed her breast from her low neckline. The next instant, he was sucking on her bare nipple, and she was starting to get angry. Not that she minded being intimate with a mark when necessary, but it riled her, not being the instigator.
But she wasn't really angry, was she? She dimly realized that he had stopped and backed away, and that she had nothing to support her weight except the counter behind her, and that was slipping away as she fell to the floor and maybe she'd just close her eyes because the floor seemed surprisingly comfortable.
***
"Well, if it ain't Sleeping Beauty. Or the evil witch. I always did get those two confused."
She was fully awake in an instant. She hated that voice more than anything. "Malcolm Reynolds," she seethed. She pulled against the ropes that bound her, but, finding them secure, she settled for glaring rather than violence against his person.
"Yo-saf," he smirked. "Fancy meeting you here. On our ship. Tied up. After we brought you here. How did you like Simon, by the way? Is he as good a kisser as I've heard?"
"Better than you were," she spat.
"Oh, but you don't really know that for a fact, do you? Seeing as he never kissed you on the lips."
"Lucky for him."
"Weren't luck," he laughed. "Boy had a theory that lips ain't the only bit of a person that'll absorb that 'goodnight kiss' you're so very fond of."
She made a mental note to have the sealant applied to her nipples as well. "You know I'm going to get even with you for this, first chance I get," she said with conviction. He wouldn't kill her, she knew that. So sooner or later, she'd get her shot.
"Fair enough."
She slumped back in her chair. "What do you want?"
He leaned in close. She was tempted to bite him. "We have a job," he said. "And you're going to help us."