Description

Full Name: Clara Jane Mason

Other Names: She only has a stage name: Beauty - purely based on her looks, she didn't give it to herself it was the men at lounge.

Gender: Female

Age: 21

Orientation: "Whatever you want me to be.."
Hometown: Tronto, Canada.

Role: The Addict

Personality:
Clara does find it quite difficult to stick to one personality, at one moment she can be bubbly and talkative, the next she'll be smashing your car up with a wrench just because you asked her to move over a little.

When she was younger, growing up where she was looked upon as different made Clara crawl in on herself, never sure if what she was next going to do was different to what everyone else was doing - If what she was doing would be looked upon as wrong in her village's point of view.
Clara was openly called the 'quiet weirdo' and she couldn't exactly deny it, maybe she was different? Maybe she was a loser? A flat out weirdo?

Yet eventually she came to realise, no, she wasn't the weird kid, she was just her own person unlike everyone else in her village, they were almost like mindless droids, doing what they were programmed to do day in day out.
Well not her, she now didn't care and this introvert was slowly becoming one of the loudest extroverts because she had just found her voice and boy, did she intend to use it.

Clara wasn't shy, meek and down right timid now, no - Now she was being who she truly believed she was destined to be, the loud, bold girl who honestly, just didn't care.
Being herself made Clara more free yet also more open to the bullies' bullets, sure she would be teased but she would put on a brave face and get through the day, the only time she would allow herself to feel their words would be when she was at home, locked in her room, alone.
Nobody would see her cry, she had vowed, no one.

This seemingly carefree girl now could embrace her true self and being a passionate, wild yet loyal woman she was able to show everyone that whatever they thought of her just didn't matter, not at all.

Although sometimes being this wild can make you do things without thinking and that is one of the many faults Clara is prone to, she'll do something stupid and then instantly regret not thinking it over first - She tends to end up speaking her thoughts and that has gotten her into a lot of trouble in the past but her charm has managed to get her out of most things.

Likes:
+Her Job Unlike a lot of prostitutes, she loves her job - Being picked for being beautiful and having the thrill of never even having to know their name, Clara sees her job as more of a game than work.
+The other girls "They're my family now."
+Violent sex "If it's not rough well, it's no fun is it?"
+Older men "For the last time, I do not have daddy issues."
+Night-time "It's when everyone and everything comes alive."
+Fancy gifts "Who doesn't?"
+Lingerie "It makes me feel so..Sexy."
+Singing "I really couldn't careless that I'm terrible."
+The Madam "She's much nicer than those cruel, girl beating pimps."
+Drugs "Who doesn't enjoy getting that high you achieve with drugs?"
+Role-play "To escape who I am for even a little while is an amazing release."

Dislikes:
-Being Bored "Doesn't everyone?"
-Arrogant people "Oh so you know everything, hm?"
-Being bossed around "Bite me."
-Tacky gifts "Lame flowers, heart shaped cheap chocolates? What are we, twelve?"
-Smoking "Drugs sure, but smoking..It's just.."
-Weak willed men "If you're going to do everything I say, I don't want to play."
-Not being satisfied "It's not just about me giving them pleasure, I have to be able to feel something too."
-Pimps "I-I just haven't had a great record with them."
-Love "What's the point if you're only going to get hurt."

Strengths:
Unlike some, she loves her job and therefore she is usually better than others; she knows just what to say to someone to get them to bend to her every need.
She has experience and not of the gentle kind and, although at the time she felt as if she was going to die, gave her a power to make just about anyone who has sex with her have to come back for more.
Role-play - She is the undefeated champion when it comes down to the dirty, rough foreplay. It's not actually that she's an amazing actress, no, it's just that she knows exactly what to do and say.

Weaknesses:
She has a sort of repressed craziness that if she doesn't defuse quickly can boil over at result in a few people getting hurt, this is mainly due to her past.
Although she's amazing in bed, actually speaking to men it's almost impossible for her, she won't talk to them while she's with them in the Lounge and do her best to avoid them when she's out.
Clara cannot smoke, but it's not just as simple as that, she can't be around people who smoke either without throwing up and this causes some difficulties in the Lounge for her as practically everyone smokes.

Fears:
+Being found out- Clara fears that someone will find out about her drug use and tell the Madam who will kick her out and once again she'll have nowhere to go.
+Going home - She doesn't want to go back to somewhere she doesn't fit in.
+Seeing her family again - She doesn't want her family to see her like this, although she's happy she knows there's no way they could ever understand.

History: Clara never really came from a poor family, no, but they weren't rich either.
'Comfortably in the middle.' Her father would say to Clara.
They had a small house where she lived with her Mother, Father, two sisters and dog.
She was taught never to be selfish or demand things but, that wasn't Clara. She wanted to be the boss, she wanted the better things in life and even though her parents gave her the basics, she never truly felt 'loved' and her and her mother were nothing more than meer acquaintances that paths had only crossed because they live in the same house.

Days were blurring into each other and eventually becoming months; months becoming years, everything went by the same - On monday-Friday she would attend school, after that she would go home, have the same snack of an apple and then go to the evening church function after which they would swiftly go home and she'd be in bed by nine o'clock.
The only exciting things she did was on her one day off, saturday.
She would get on her bike and ride over to Tim's, her best friend, house where they would play a different game everyday, sometimes it was cowboys and indians others she was a mermaid and he was a captain aboard a massive ship.
Although out of all of these, Bonnie and Clyde was by far her favourite, she loved the thrill of making people 'stick 'em up' and even though it was only his Mother's spare change she loved pretending it was worth thousands and the prospect of getting this much money.

But of course their childish games couldn't last, Tim was sent to an all boys boarding school as staying here with her was 'problematic' because she was a 'weird kid'.
After Tim left, once again her days were plunged into the boring having nothing to do on the weekends except study.
Before long Clara couldn't take it anymore, the 'no vanity' and 'respect your elders' was getting old and it was time for a new sort of rules.
She got her minimal stuff that she just needed to survive and packed them away in her father's small, brown briefcase and ran-away, she wasn't quite sure where but reckoned anywhere would be better than her home.

Clara ran, and she ran for a long time - Years in fact until she stumbled upon The Midnight Lounge, by that time although she was doing what she wanted and was the real Bonnie she had lost the thrill of adrenaline and was nothing without her Clyde.
She was offered a job which she only too gladly took, maybe, she would think to herself This is my ticket out of here, maybe, I'll meet a rich business man who'll marry me. of course she didn't really believe this, no, it was just something for her to think about as men crawled around her room like an infestation she couldn't be rid of.

Despite her knowing that life isn't a fairytale and dreams do not come true she still can't help but hope that there is a Clyde out there that's in need of a Bonnie.

Although The Midnight Lounge was the best place that she has ever worked, she didn't only start prostitution when she arrived there, no, living on the streets caused her to do..things..Some people won't do in a lifetime yet she only did this for the money, she didn't have an addiction to feed - Didn't. Yet, as time passed, she grew bored of her job and looked for something deeper, more satisfying and that is when she came across drugs, at first it was just harmless fun which she did mainly because she was bored but then, her addiction started to grow, she had to have the drugs she supposedly only used 'for fun' she didn't know what was happening to her, all she knew was that if her body craved this poison then she would get it, at all costs.

So begins...

Clara Jane Mason's Story

Seen 11 Times • Page 1 of 1

Setting

Detroit, Michigan

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce

Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine

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#2013-03-03 03:09:55, as written by LittleMissGeorgia

“The Midnight Lounge, how can I help you?” Evony answered the phone crisply, her voice laced with smooth confidence and an air of business-like authority. It was a tone Evony had come to perfect over the years, as answering the phone seemed to be a constant staple in her life; sort of an occupational hazard that came with her line of work. It was exactly the tone a man wanted to hear when doing business in this field. They didn’t like to be pestered, or have to go through the formalities, especially her wealthiest clients. And Evony was well adapted to catering for those types.

”Miss de la Longine, it’s Lucian Norton.”

“Ah, Mr Norton,” her voice oozed professionalism, “Confirming your appointment with Ray J, I assume?”

“Yes, eleven thirty tonight?” he asked. Mr Norton ran a hedge fund in the city. He was in his mid-four ties, and had a wife who he lived with yet didn’t speak to, and four daughters in their teenage years. He had a regular booking with Ray every fortnight on a Wednesday evening. He was the kind of man who checked everything, even the tiniest things. Under his watchful eye, not a single appointment, figure or date went unchecked. He was a perfectionist, but he was wealthy and used her services, which was all that mattered to Evony at the end of the day. Of course, she liked to have some degree of knowledge about her clients but, to her, business was everything. She was cut-throat and she didn’t like failure.

“That’s when I have you down for, Mr Norton,” she informed him.

“Perfect. Good evening,” he replied, before hanging up.

Evony set the phone down on her nightstand, a beautiful little circular table crafted from a deep purple marble. It rested on three golden metal legs, arranged like the points of a triangle, beside her four-poster bed. The bed was adorned completely in white bedding; white duvet, white sheets, white throws, white cushions. Thin, white strips of material swept up towards the top of the bed, winding along the wooden columns that held up the canopy. The wood was painted in the same shade of purple as the nightstand. The style of Evony’s room was exceptionally glamorous, which fitted with the Madam’s general demeanour.

There were three floors to The Midnight Lounge. On the bottom floor, at the entrance, was the bar. Behind that, the building gave way to six individual rooms where the real money was made. Each room was themed in a different style, so as the customer could choose what feel they wanted. Above that was the second floor, which was the main living quarters. There was a main room in the centre, with a small kitchen and sitting room. The girl’s bedrooms came off that room, so they could live on the premises. Above that was the third and final floor, which acted as a home to Evony and her children. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford a house of their own; Evony easily had enough money to buy several houses of her own. But businesses did not run themselves, and places like this which made high profits and catered to the entitled who easily had the ability to be choosey required a lot of work. Evony simply didn’t have the time to maintain and live in a house of her own. Their floor was considerably more spacious than the one the girl’s occupied. Each member of the family had an en suit bathroom and a large bedroom. They also had a sitting room of their own, and a small kitchen, but it was rarely used. Coming off Evony’s bedroom was a small office, where she ran usually ran the business from. The girls were strictly forbidden from entering the top floor, unless an emergency arose that required her urgent attention. After all, she had to maintain a certain degree of privacy. In the basement was a gym and a swimming pool. The girls were expected to keep their bodies in a certain condition, and if they were unable to maintain the looks she’d employed them for, they were gone.

This evening was a particularly busy one for Evony. She’d been booked by a wealthy senator, David Beaumont, for his retirement party. Evony’s girls were expected arrive towards the end of the evening and socialise with the guests. Then, as the party drew to a close around eleven and only his close friends were left, that was when their day jobs finally begun. They were expected to drench the men with attention and then, of course, sleep with them. Evony was escorting them, to make sure order was kept and they did their jobs correctly. Jasper was also coming along, to ensure their safety, and also Haley, to help manage business, but mainly because Evony didn’t want to leave her at The Midnight Lounge without the watchful eye of herself or Jasper. Because Ray J had a previous booking, she was the only girl not coming, but Evony had known Mr Norton a while and was fairly confident Jasper was not required in this situation. Anthony was also staying here, to keep the bar open, should any police or others come poking around. Evony knew leaving Anthony alone with a girl, especially one she knew he’d had his eye on recently, was just tempting fate, but she didn’t have much choice. She didn’t want to leave Haley to front the business instead. It wasn’t that Evony didn’t trust her daughter; it was just that she was often so much vulnerable than her brother. Though he was only two years her senior, he still behaved so much older than Haley. And frankly, despite his inability to keep his eyes and hands off the prostitutes working here, Evony trusted him to look after himself more. And so it was settled, that was their evening.

Evony stood up from the bed, bending back down to smooth the duvet and replace the cushions in their correct place before leaving her room to enter the family sitting room, where she knew Haley would be.

“Haley, darling?” Evony asked her daughter. “Can you please let the girls know we’ll be leaving in forty minutes, make sure Jasper knows too. And would you please be ready to go then as well.” Though her words were phrased politely, it was a question and not a statement. She’d used a term of endearment for her daughter, but she did not expect the girl to defy her mother.

Evony knew Haley wasn’t fond of the lifestyle she’d chosen for the family, and she wished she’d chosen differently. Evony had always been close to Anthony, their relationship had always been caring and he’d rarely held any resentment for her. But her relationship with Haley always felt slightly strained. Of course she loved her daughter, but she never seemed to quite connect with her in the same way she did with her son.

But tonight, Evony’s family issues were irrelevant. She dealt in sex; that was the plain and simple of it. People came to her to forget their issues and their problems. Her girls would take all that away, in their skimpy dresses and lacy lingerie. They gave the men what they wanted. They created a fantasy, a gloss of perfection that overlaid reality and erased it for a time. Evony didn’t just trade in sex; she traded in an evanescent mirage. The unattainable.

Setting

Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-03 11:49:01, as written by MissBrightside_

Clara always enjoyed sleeping naked, it was probably the only time to got to be completely free; away from material gains and such, it was enthralling- except for the part where you have to get up.
Stripping away her lilac linen and throwing her legs over the side of her bed, one by one, Clara pattered to the bathroom, her feet making soft sounds against the cool, dark marble as she enters the room.

For the rest of the day, Clara spend her time beautifying herself - well she did have to keep up to her names standards- and picking out what to wear.
At around nine o'clock in the evening, she finally narrowed it down to two outfits, one was a simple, very short, Red and cream that she was going to pair with her favourite black wedge heels or a slightly longer, but nevertheless extremely sexy blue and silver dress which almost showed off half of her breasts, paired with golden heels.
All she knew about tonight was that they were going to have a 'party' for a certain gentleman, she wasn't sure who he was but he was apparently exquisitely wealthy and was bringing some of his friends that were also, just as rich.
She reasoned that tonight was to be an important night for the business and so needed some expert advice; she knew exactly who from.
Natasha.

pulling on her white lacy corset top with small, pink roses budding at her bust and her matching lace thong with a pair of her most favourite suspenders she wraps herself in a dressing-gown and walks over, both outfits in hand.

It is then she hears the crashing in Natasha's room and then she spots Kitten - as they all called her now - walking over and asking if she were alright.
Waltzing up to Kitten she smiled, "well we aren't going to find out, standing all the way out here. Come." Clara beckoned, pulling the young girl inside the door.
It probably wasn't the best idea as it was quite well known that Natasha didn't like Kitten all too well but it would be rude to tell Kitten to go, when she's come to see whether the girl is hurt.

"Ivory," She speaks softly, using the girls lounge name, "what happened hun?" Clara always called the girls pet names, which they have just grown accustomed to answering as she wasn't going to call them anything else.
Picking up the tall coat rack that was suspect to the noise, she sits next to her friend, trying to look for whatever startled her.

"It better have not been that son of the boss' again, I swear - The next time he's in one of our rooms I shall have to attack him." She jokes, hoping to lighten the mood and yet, being deadly serious about what she'd do.[/center]

Setting

Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-04 02:10:59, as written by OurStars

The sound of the faucet being turned is that of a soft squeak, followed by the rush of water as it hits against the marble tiles of Anthony's luxurious steam shower. It is seven o'clock or so, and the young man has only just returned home from a day out with a couple of friends, going to the movies and then to a bowling alley. True, such an establishment isn't necessarily the classiest of places, and perhaps one wouldn't expect to find Anthony, smooth-talker and son of one of the highest-esteemed madams in the state, maybe even the northern USA, at a place where the balls are greasy and the food disgusting, but he rather enjoys it anyway. In fact, he is quite good at the game, and has the tendency to win. When he and his sister were younger, he would take her to the bowling alley now and again. That was before they spent time bar tending, and when they were little enough for their mother to not want them to be constantly surrounded by the darker side of the appropriately named Midnight Lounge. As they grew older, his mother's concern had decreased, to some extent, because they were mature enough and, honestly, it was inevitable that they would become at least somewhat involved in the business. Even their home is only just above the lounge, after all.

After a short hot shower, the young man steps out into his large, tiled bathroom, drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist. His image, which would normally be clear in the mirror, is blocked by the steam which clings to the reflective surface. The air in the bathroom is dense with evaporated warm water, but Anthony rather likes it. He has always preferred warm weather to cold weather, which is unfortunate given that he lives in Michigan. Often times, the young man seems better suited for somewhere like California or Florida, with palm trees and girls walking about in daisy dukes. His blond curls and slightly tanned skin only further this appearance. The young man wipes some of the fog off of the mirror and kind of brushes his hair, but places the brush down after only a few seconds, because brushing curls is something of a lost cause. After brushing his teeth and swishing some mouthwash about, the handsome fellow walks out into his room, wooden floors cold against his bare feet. His room, surprisingly, is very clean, and looks more like it should belong to a scholar than to a player such as himself. It is sparsely decorated, with a large bookshelf filled with plays, poems, and old novels. The bed is king-size with gray sheets and a gray blanket, paired with pillows in solid black cases. His closet is actually walk-in, but only half-filled despite his love for well-tailored clothing. All the same, it represents his style quite well. Seeing the young man in a T-shirt in jeans is rare, as he only has two pairs of jeans and maybe three T-shirts, used only for when he is doing something like painting a wall, although such a thing is uncommon.

Most of his wardrobe is composed of nice suit jackets, clean collared shirts, and dark business pants. There are also vests, which he has a special fondness for, and an eclectic collection of bow ties and ties- all rarely worn, despite his classy dressing habits. He has a few pairs of shoes, all of them of high quality, with the exception of a ratty pair of sneakers. Anthony changes into a clean, light-blue collared dress shirt, black suit jacket, and black pants. The jacket is left open and, overall, the young man looks rather good. A matter of course, he thinks with an undeniably cocky smile at the mirror before strolling over to his book case and pulling out a book of poetry by Ralph Waldo Emerson from the shelf. He slides it into a pocket inside his jacket, which is just large enough for the rather small book, and runs his hands through his still slightly damp curls.

Right, most of the girls are going to that party tonight, right? Everyone, actually. The only person staying is Regan, he observes with a grin before walking out of his room, closing the door behind him. The young man makes his way down the stairs, in time to witness some of the girls slipping into Natasha's room and shouting some things, though they seem to hold no malice. In fact, they make the young man, somewhat impervious to insults, grin and raise his eyebrows with amusement. "It better have not been that son of the boss' again, I swear - The next time he's in one of our rooms I shall have to attack him," chimes the voice that he hears.

The young man saunters down the hallway and leans against the door frame, the door having been left open. "I only go where I am invited," he comments smoothly, his hands in his pockets. All in all, he looks rather suave. "You should know that, Clara," the young man adds with a grin.

Setting

Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-04 02:19:45, as written by confidence

A party for a senator usually meant a roomful of flies, perfect for plucking, ready for reeling in. A party for a senator usually meant a flood of wealth in her pocket. Even now, if she closed her eyes, Anneka could almost tangibly feel the chime of gold falling on her like rain. She would run them over her eyelids, preparing the next phase of her burial as the Egyptians had once done, drowning in the treasures she had collected. All of her beauties were still at Robert's, the fool of a FBI agent. How could any man paid to wheedle out the worst in society fall in love with a minx such as herself? She would never understand. No matter how vile, unattractive, undesirable they were, men always found themselves worthy. It made her cackle. Worthy? When did worthy ever matter? No, it was about the game, the chase, the thrill of knowing you would win, no matter how long you drew the torture out. It was the ecstasy of watching a tycoon beg for her sweet weapon, the apple that tasted heavenly, increasing in pleasure, and right before the peak... right after you began to get excited and hopeful... would turn sharply and slowly, ever so slowly, suck the light from your eyes. Death would be merciful, then; you would long for death, perhaps run towards it. But the pain would be slow, and you would be left only with the thought that you don't deserve this suffering.

But you do, Anneka thought lightly, as she surveyed herself in the mirror. She was naked, glistening with the shower water she hadn't bothered to wash off. She quite liked her physical blessings, and didn't mind roaming the second floor without her clothes. She was a prostitute, after all; how could any girl like her feign modesty? The girls here knew her as Angel, but anyone who knew her would recognize immediately: she was no angel. Not if she didn't want to be, anyway. And right now? She definitely didn't want to be. Tonight, she would make money with her job, not her fingers, not her own deceptions; she would play the role of a prostitute feigning aristocracy expertly, and then please any man, any woman, into bonuses unto bonuses afterwards. The trick was to remember who you were playing, while you were playing. Tonight would be tricky. She was expected to be refined, high fashion, high end... that, by itself, was no difficult task. Quite simple, really; it was the first role Anneka had taken on.

But she had to remember the layer she had right underneath that fine act of class. She would be the prostitute playing the role of a wealthy woman, completely at home in a room full of politicians, wealthy, influential men. She would be playing a woman playing a woman. It would be tricky... but immensely challenging, and immensely fun. She looked forward to it.

Once Anneka was sufficiently air-dried, she ventured into her bedroom, examining the contents of her closet. A scream resonated a few moments later, but who cared? It was of no importance to her. Right now, she needed to face a greater threat: finding the right outfit to wear. Most of the girls would be wearing dresses - black ones, at that. Of course, how predictable. Gag. Impulsively, overcome with disgust at wearing something so commonplace, Anneka grabbed the first colored dress she could find: a green beauty she could not wait to don. And for the fun of it? She wouldn't wear underwear. Okay, maybe a little sticker or something for nipple coverage, but you will not find any underwear underneath the long skirt. Not tonight. With a smirk, Anneka set the dress aside, with plain white heels to offset the suddenness of the dress.

Next would be the hair, the accessories, the make up... The list went on and on. I'm a prostitute, Anneka thought bitterly, resolutely, I refuse to do anything. Her only job, after all, was to entertain, to please, to elicit gasps and moans. Sex was her pedestal, and she relished in it. Thus, the hair was left wild, untamed, uncombed - it would fall apart during nightfall, anyway - and her make up was done sparingly. She wore absolutely no jewelry, no accessories; the theme of the night was minimalism.

She was ready in a matter of fifteen minutes. The dress would come on much later, right before she had to leave; it didn't take much work, anyway. Right now, she wanted to remain naked. She hadn't talked to the other girls much; she was more or less a loner in the Midnight Lounge. And what better way to make a lasting first impression than to 'show off your goods,' as one man had so delicately put it. Completely nude and carefree, Anneka walked towards the room that held the screamer - Natasha, if she could recall correctly. She leaned against the door frame, the side unoccupied by Madame's son, and surveyed each girl calmly, noting the one nicknamed Beauty by the customers, and the innocent-looking fairy, the screamer who was quite beautiful if she hadn't looked so.. disheveled at the moment. And as for Madame's son... well, she had never been one to change anything for the sake of one person.

Anneka raised her eyebrows at Natasha and ignored Anthony, directly speaking to the girl before doing anything else. "You okay?" she said softly. She was the new girl, the newest of all the other whores in this place. She would act accordingly.

Setting

Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-04 19:44:08, as written by MissBrightside_

As a voice spoke to her, Clara's eyes flitted over to the man in the door - Anthony.
She raises her eyebrow as he speaks and then laughs with Natasha when he adds, "You should know that, Clara."
Feigning innocence Clara softly replies "Why on earth would I -of all people- know that, Anthony?"

Looking back over to Natasha, she eyes her face suspiciously, knowing that something as petty as a spider wouldn't make her scream like so did, yet she could not see anything that gave away what it really was on her friends face and so she dropped it. For now.
It was at that moment that their newest member decided to join them - Angel, naked as anything Clara bit her lip from letting out a little sigh.
Okay, the girl had a great body but really, did she want to make herself anymore tempting for the boss' son? Does she not know what he's like? - Clara knew that she did but still, she felt a little jealousy for this girls good-looks and so, felt a little resentment toward her.

Realizing she still held her two dresses in her hands so re-looked at them and turned toward Natasha, "Now, the reason I was coming over to see you," She starts, "was because I need your expert advice." Clara then holds up the two dresses so that Natasha could see them better.

Then she looks over to Anthony and grins, "which do you prefer?" She asks, lifting the two dresses up.
She did love her red dress but then again, the blue was very - sexy.

Clara knew exactly what to pair with both - The red would go with a more minimalist style her black heels and a little gloss would suffice whereas the blue dress called for her favourite red lipstick and silver kitten heels.
She still had to get ready and this now large group of people was only stopping her - Some would argue that she was a whore and so, who cares what she's wearing? Its not like she going be wearing it that much and yet, it made her feel better to be well presented and you did get more richer clients when you look good.
Also you don't want your standards to drop because otherwise you could potentially be threatened about being kicked out and she just couldn't handle that, not now she's actually grown to like the place and has somewhere where she feels more at home that she ever did, anywhere.

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Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-04 23:35:00, as written by LittleMissGeorgia

"Alright, Mum," Haley replied, standing up from her position on the sofa and skulking off to her room. There was no softness to the words, no care or emotion. It was clear Haley didn't want to be there tonight, and Evony hadn't exactly reasoned out to her daughter exactly why she didn't want her staying here without her mother or Jasper, but she still didn't expect such a seemingly cold reception.

With a soft sigh, Evony returned to her own room to get ready. After all, it wouldn't do for her not to be ready when she expected all the girls to be perfectly on time. She changed into a black dress. The garment was fairly simple and classic in style, clinging to her curves right the way down her body, only flaring round her knees to give it a touch of uniqueness. Evony was not usually the type to dress down. She loved picking out something glamorous, emphasising her assets and dressing to create an impression. But tonight was not about showing herself off. Tonight was business, and purely business. Though she needed to blend in with the wealthy feel of the evening, meaning she had to wear something elegant, she also had to remain looking professional. These types of parties were often where she picked up new clients. She was certain there would be men there tonight who's numbers she didn't have in her little black book, and she needed to create a certain image in order to lure them in. What she wore had to say a certain thing, and so the classic black dress was perfect for the occasion. Her jewellery was also simplistic and classic. On her wrist she wore a simple, thick, gold bracelet and in her ears rested studs in an identical shade to her bracelet. Her hair was pulled back off her face to create a businesslike impression, and her make-up was light and natural, except for her eye-liner, which was slightly thicker than usual and her eye-shadow, which was a very pale charcoal colour.

Halfway through applying a thin coat of natural lipstick, Evony froze in front of the mirror, catching the sound of a scream downstairs. She held still for a few moments, but soon she heard voices. She couldn't tell who'd been responsible for the scream, but it was clearly resolved. She slipped her feet into a pair of simple black heels. Though they couldn't be seen under the floor length dress, they gave her additional height on her already relatively tall five foot seven frame. Finally, she checked herself in the full-length mirror, looking herself down for any imperfections. In these situations, image was everything. It could make or break a night, be the difference between earning new clients or losing existing ones.

Remembering she was leaving her son alone with Ray, Evony decided to make certain he was clear on the rules. Besides, since her daughter was being particularly icy with her tonight and she certainly wasn't going to ask any of the girls, she wanted someone's approval on the outfit, and her son was always sweet to her. She exited her room into the main family area, crossing it and knocking on Anthony's door. But there was no answer. She made her way downstairs to find him. But when she reached the second floor, she discovered what the scene was all about. Inside Natasha's room, the owner of the room was standing up from the bed looking a little dishevelled, but thankfully dressed for the evening - which was more than Evony could say for certain other girls... Clara was holding up two dresses, obviously trying to get an opinion.

"The blue one," Evony said to the woman, announcing her entrance to the scene. The blue one would offer more temptation, and pull in the money much faster, Evony was sure of it. She paused before raising her eyebrows, "Is there a problem here?" But she didn't wait for an answer.

Kitten was also ready, and as the Madam flicked her eyes over the girl, taking in her appearance, she realised with a faint smile how much money the baby faced prostitute was going to make her tonight. However, her expression darkened as her eyes fell on Angel. Evony wasn't especially font of the new girl as it was, and her complete disregard for any kind of dignity only riled the woman further.

"Angel," she said coldly, "I hope you're not planning on leaving here like that... I'm sure the longer you spend in this business, you'll come to understand that it's all about temptation; something you haven't quite grasped yet..." Sarcasm dripped from Evony's voice like syrup.

She glanced at her son, the real reason she'd even entered the scene in the first place. "Anthony, a word, please?" she beckoned to him and left the main room to stand by the stairs, to give them some privacy. She didn't glance back to check he was following her, she simply assumed he would.

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Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-10 02:24:25, as written by confidence

noticing

"A spider? You poor thing."

own

"I'm sorry, Madame,"

"I'll work hard to remember tonight, Madame. I will follow my peers' example." Even though I don't fucking need it, you bitchy serpent,

"Oops,"

"I hope you girls don't mind about my, well..."

"I was just a little worried about the scream."

"But everything is okay, and I will go get dressed now. I'll see you all tonight."

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Detroit, Michigan

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#2013-03-10 04:45:42, as written by Jynxii

Natasha was standing awkwardly while everyone came into the room, exchanging remarks. Her cool hues rested gently on the floor, glancing every now and again to the bathroom. Clara held up two dresses, and Natasha glanced over both of them, considering and weighing the options of each. It was the Madam, though, that answered. "The blue one," Natasha had to agree. The blue one did look very nice, it cupped her breasts neatly and accented her curves. The Madam was right, as always. "A spider? You poor thing." Naty looked to Angel, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, and then softening. She's not the enemy. Natasha gave a little nod to Clara, to illustrate her agreement since words still seemed to stick in her throat. Natasha was going to say there was no problem, when asked by her boss, but the lady's attention was caught by Angel. "I hope you're not planning on leaving here like that... I'm sure the longer you spend in this business, you'll come to understand that it's all about temptation; something you haven't quite grasped yet..." Natasha winced a little. The Madam scared her. "Anthony, a word, please?" Saved... "I was just a little worried about the scream." Angel added gently. Natasha looked to her and found that their eyes met. What are you playing at? "Thanks, Angel..." softly.

With that, Angel slipped back out of the room. Natasha turned to Clara again, and looked her over. "Are you coming with me tonight for a foursome?" Walking over to her vanity, Natasha set about fixing the wild wisps of her hair that had escaped the perfection of earlier during her fall. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she grinned at her reflection and turned back to Clara. The images were gone, her game was on. Confidence returned, she noticed Kitten was still in her room. Annoyance swelled in her chest and she rudely gave the baby-faced whore a once-over. "Don't you have something to be doing?" Her words were soft, in the way that razors are soft to the skin until you press too hard. "Oh, and Kitten... You look beautiful." Her words dripped like warm honey, hanging in the air in a chokingly sweet way.

"Stick beside me tonight, won't you Beauty darling?" With a few short strides, Natasha was across the room again and slipping behind Clara. "Allow me." Tenderly she helped the girl undress and slip into the gown of choice. As she stood behind Clara, her fingertips graced the small of her back gently before she pulled the zipper closed. "So fittingly named, Beauty." Natasha whispered in her ear, tenderly kissing the girl's shoulder. She didn't care, or notice if Kitten had left yet. Natasha smiled and walked a 360 degree around Beauty. "Sit with me in the car?" Natasha led the way out of her room, allowing for anyone left in the room to follow before she shut her door.

Noticing the Madam and her son having a conversation by the stairs, Ivory decided to go into the kitchen for an apple. Taking one from the counter, she leaned against the cool wall and waited for the signal that everyone was ready and heading out the door. She would stay by Clara tonight. If her visions aroused themselves, Clara would cover for her. Call her a screamer. Tell them it was a kinky game. Make it fun. Make it fake. Make it okay. Cause that's what Clara did. She made everything okay.

Natasha glanced back to Angel as she began to speak.

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#2013-03-11 00:05:33, as written by Echo_Rose

Kaydence was brought into the room by Beauty, she had no intentions of entering the room but at that point she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Seeing that Beauty came to Ivory's rescue she planned to leave, she knew Natasha couldn't stand her, hated her for some reason but as she turned to leave Anthony and Angel, the new girl, were in the door way. She was staring right at Angel who was completely nude and she had a hard time taking her eyes off the girl No wonder they call her Angel she thought. She dropped her gaze to the floor and decided to just keep quiet.

Natasha said the reason behind the scream was a spider, she looked over to Natasha and wondered how a spider could make someone so freaked out but she didn't question it. Clara went on about getting an opinion on what dress to wear for the night. She liked the blue one but Clara didn't ask her opinion so she wasn't going to speak up.

Juat the the Madam was at the doorway, she told Clara to wear the blue one. She then felt Madam's eyes on her and that made her feel very self-conscious at that moment. She was glad that the Madam didn't say anything to her, she wondered if the Madam not saying anything meant that she approved of what she was wearing, but she wouldn't ask. The Madam then remarked on Angel's nakedness then left as she told Anthony she needed a word with him.

"I hope you girls don't mind about my, well..." she heard Angel speak ans her eyes drifted back to the woman in the doorway. No I don't mind at all.. she thought to herself but said nothing. Angel then left leaving the doorway opened, this was her time to be able to escape from where she was unwanted but she found her eyes going back to Natasha, who has now moved to her vanity. As she was staring Natasha looked at her with a look of annoyance "Don't you have something to be doing?" Kaydence slightly cringed at Natash's words, she turned to leave without saying anything in response but Ivory decided to say something more "Oh, and Kitten... You look beautiful." Those words she never thought she would hear come out from Ivory's mouth, she was glad she wasn't facing Natasha anymore because she was clearly blushing.

"Th..thank you, I am glad you are okay. You look beautiful also" with those last words she walked out of the room not waiting for any response. She went to the living room area and sat down in a chair to wait. She felt alone at that moment, everyone seemed to have someone to talk to or go to, well except maybe Angel but she was still new. Kaydence just wished there was someone she could tell everything to but while she was working here she had to keep everything about her real self bottled down inside her and just keep on living this lie.[/size]

((ooc:I am unable to tag characters, once I can I will. Natasha, Clara, Angel, and Madam were all mentioned in the post))

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#2013-03-11 21:07:56, as written by OurStars

"Now why on earth would I -of all people- know that, Anthony?" Clara asks him, batting her long eyelashes innocently but hardly containing that playful smile of hers at the act. He merely smirks at her and quirks up an eyebrow dubiously, though no clever remark parts from his smiling mouth, as the next person to speak is the woman whose scream called this little medley of people together into the hallway. Natasha, known as the sexiest girl in the lounge and the top money-maker of the girls, laughs a little bit at the miniature exchange between Clara and Anthony, a rather out of place sound, before offering a simple explanation for her little cry. Simple though it may be, and technically completely believable -or at least feasible- the Madam's son is no fool, and he recognizes it as somewhat suspicious. After all, it takes quite a bit to spook Natasha, known for being a bit of a psycho, though many of the customers only think of her as being hotter for it- like some gorgeous demon from hell or something like that. "I saw a spider and tripped. It was an accident. I'm fine, honestly," her emotions and expression are perfectly sincere looking, and Anthony would have fell for the excuse immediately if it didn't sound so out of place. Natasha? Tripping? still, his smirk never wavers and his arrogant gaze never falters, for he doesn't really care too much as to what gave Natasha enough of a spook to make her scream, as long as it isn't troubling to him or the lounge. He does have some things in common with his mother, the pair having a better relationship than Haley and she, and one of them is a surprising focus on the success of the Lounge. He's grown up in it, after all, and rather adores the establishment, with all of its grandeur and other means of beauty. "The blue one, Clara," he adds offhand.

Speaking of beauty, he does not fail to notice as the newest addition to the Lounge's lineup, Angel, as she struts down the hallway towards them in her nameday suit. His eyebrows shoot up with amusement, though it is a far cry from the first time that the young man has seen a beautiful woman naked, and he is briefly reminded of Irene Adler's appearance in the BBC show Sherlock. "Wearing your battle dress, I see," he comments smoothly, not missing a beat at her slightly off appearance. Although he may have been confused for the briefest of moments, such things melt away in an instant. He may not be one of the girls here, but he was raised in the Lounge, and has more experience than the rest of them in things such as sex, beauty, and the kind. Just because he isn't a prostitute doesn't mean that the young man doesn't know how they often may think, though of course no one is the same, even when lumped together under some vague catagory. Someone's looking to make an impression, he muses with that cocky smile of his, bringing out the slightest dimples. And making his blue eyes seem to crinkle the tiniest bit, as though the sea has been folded over.

A brief moment after his own comment, he hears his mother's voice as she suggests the blue one -just as he had moments ago- to Clara, before her cool gaze slides over the group. "Is there a problem here?" his mother asks, her voice calm and restrained- the very image, or perhaps sound, of what the madam of such an establishment should sound. Call him a momma's boy, but Anthony has nothing but the greatest respect for his mother, and wouldn't hesitate to attack the first person who hurt her. Though he may seem loose and indifferent at times, the young man puts a very strong emphasis on family, and is more protective over his mother and sister than people might tend to assume. He glances over towards Angel as she responds to his mother's scolding, and hesitates for a moment at the demure appearance of her, thinking that it contrasts far too much with her current state. The girls of this Lounge are magnificent actors, for the most part, but fooling others is rather hard when you have put up evidence against it. She doesn't really seem like the streaker type, anyway, he thinks, remembering the tiniest glint of hunger that he had seen in Angel's eyes when she looked towards Natasha.

"Anthony, a word, please?" his mother addresses him, and the young man winks at the girls before smiling fondly at his mother and nodding. "Of course," he says, almost as a little lordling would, before following after Evony, obedient as you like. Yes, call him a momma's boy if you please, but it is with good reason. His mother demands respect, after all. When both have come to a stop, he leans against the wall and smiles at her.

"So- what is it that you wish to say?"

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#2013-03-12 17:18:40, as written by MissBrightside_

Clara watched the scene unfold before her, yet always kept her gaze on Angel, trust that girl she did not. She was too false, always seemingly up something yet able to cover it up with her sugary-sweetness.
And so Clara picked it up immediately when she let her guard drop, seeing the hunger that filled her, she searched for whom she could possibly be staring at - Natasha?
No, why would she, biting her lip Clara frowns, knowing that if Angel had any plans for her Ivory that they would not be good ones.
She had to keep a closer eye on her friend, make sure she stays safe, her crazy pretence hid her from almost anyone, except Angel.

As the nude girl took her leave, Clara turned to Kitten, immediately sensing the tension.
What will Natasha do? she wonders, staying silent.
Surprise flicks onto her face as Natasha compliments the girl but she suddenly masks it, smiling brightly at them as Kitten takes her leave.

Nodding she walks behind the girl as she sits at her vanity, "Sure," She replies sweetly, thinking about their duty tonight.
And then as Ivory stands up, helping her dress she looks at her friend - Such a broken girl, and yet Natasha never once has mentioned anything about her past.
Was it so awful? Clara would ask her but she didn't want the girl to be frightened once again and anyway, it wasn't any of her business.

"Of course," She agrees to all the girl says, knowing that she would stick with her, especially after what happened, she daren't leave the girl on her own or worse: with Angel.
She would cover up any of the girls visions and make it all OK, or as OK as it could be.

Feeling Ivory's soft kiss on her shoulder she turned around slowly and took the girl's cheek in her soft palm.
"You know you can talk to me," She whispers, her other hand fiddling with the girl's hair.
Anyone watching the scene would probably assume them lovers, yet when you're in the prostitute business, you get more intimate with your friends than anything, you do not have to feel sexually attracted to them to be able to make-out or such.
It's all part of the act.

Yet just as those words leave her mouth she feels it, the burning sensation that courses through her body, burning her inside like molten lava.
She quickly moves her hand away from the girl's cheek and clenches them into tense balls at her side, biting down hard on her lip to keep herself from running to her supply, and most probably getting herself caught.
No, she had a specific time for that - at night while everyone's sleeping so she did not run the risk of getting caught and yet, she still could not stop the impulse that raced through her, to take everything and anything she could, just to feel that oh so precious high again.

Shaking her head bitterly, she forced herself to unclench her fists and put a smile on her face.
For want of an excuse she simply says, "Sorry, I just felt a little sick," And then rapidly changes the subject, "shall we go?"
Entwining her arm with Ivory's she waltzes from the room, acting like nothing ever happened.

Except nothing can stop it, not now; not ever.

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Clara Jane Mason

0 · 523 views · located in Detroit, Michigan

a character in “The Midnight Lounge”, as played by MissBrightside_

Description

So begins...

Clara Jane Mason's Story

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