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Natasha Ivory Peirce

"The higher you climb, the farther you fall."

0 · 1,112 views · located in Detroit, Michigan

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




Full Name: Natasha Ivory Peirce.

Other Names:
Nickname; Naty
Stage Name; Ivory

Gender: Female.

Age: 23

Orientation: “ I am whatever Madam tells me to be…”

Hometown: Staunton, Virginia.

Role: The Crazy One



Natasha Ivory Pierce. She looks like your average small town girl, and she was until she turned 17, when her mother died. What’s this got to do with her personality? A lot, actually. Natasha used to be on the cheer leading squad at her high school, and like most cheerleaders she had that no-matter-what-everything-will-be-perfect attitude. She was care-free. She was that friend who would show up at your house at four in the morning when your boyfriend broke up with you, climb in through your window so your parents don’t wake up kinda girl… but she had her dark side then, too. The kind of dark side that drove her to beat in her ex’s car while he was at work one day, after she found a pair of some other girl’s underwear in his car. Seventeen seems so young to her now.

Now. Now, she was someone else entirely. A dark shadow of the happy girl she used to be. Numb to the world, stuck in fast forward, trapped in a downward spiral that even her best friend, Iced Vodka, can’t get her out of. Traces of the old Natasha still surface every now and again. When she gets a new diamond necklace from an admirer, or when she gets a million flowers on Valentine’s Day. The simple, little highs that living her life bring. Natasha’s personality is hard to describe, because she doesn’t even know herself anymore. A little voice in the back of her head whispers for her to do things she knows she shouldn’t do. What’s worse; she’s started seeing things. Natasha may seem on edge to people around her, a little high strung perhaps, a little spacey. Here in a moment, gone in a flash.

There are some things about her, though, that have stuck with her through the years. She enjoys deep, emotional relationships with her Sisters (the other women of her workplace). I suppose she figures if she’s going to sleep with them, she might as well like them. Natasha has long since forgotten if she was straight or not. Now she just says she’s whatever she’s told to be. That goes for the men, as well. One of the best traits Natasha has is her ability to adapt, and change herself to be whatever is desired of her. She’s been changing and adapting for so long now, she’s almost forgotten where she stops and the act begins.

When her mind is not slipping from her, Natasha can be extremely patient. It’s a rarity that she loses her temper with anyone. Please don’t take this to mean that she has a lot of self-control, the truth of the matter is that she simply does not care about much anymore. She seems to be on autopilot most of the time. When she does find herself, she can be quite charming and enjoyable to be around. As it’s her job to make people happy, she is not one to stir up trouble. When she gets double-crossed, however, a vicious side of her comes out. Once she has decided you deserve to be brought down, she will stop at nothing to see that everything you love is destroyed, and she will not rest until she sees your world crumble around you. It wasn’t always this way, but the world has given her a very thick shell. It would take a miracle to crack it open again.

+ High paying clients “What kind of girl doesn’t like to get spoiled?”

+ The color red “It’s the color of romance, you know..”

+ Men with accents “Mmm.. Say that again…”

+ Singing in the shower “It helps get my mind off… Things.”

+ High heels “Aside from Diamonds, they’re a girl’s best friend, you know.”

+ Vodka, on the rocks “To take the edge off.”

+ Rough/kinky sex “Well, what can I say?”

- Holidays “They’re just depressing for someone with no family..”

- Pills “…..”

- Churches “God doesn’t love me.”

- Men in uniform “They’re all the same; hiding behind a badge or a patch.”

- Fireplaces “I don’t care for fire, much…”

- Bathrooms “… I just… bad memories, that’s all.”

- Disco Lights “They’re just tacky.”


Natasha is obviously a master of seduction. She’s spent years with The Madam and has learned a lot from her. She’s also very good at defusing tense situations. Another talent of hers, is finding out things about someone that they don’t want found out. She’s amazing at digging up dirt on someone to use against them later if she ever has the need to. Natasha is very good at acting; from pretending to be interested in the conversation to role playing in the bedroom. She’s also a wonderful pianist, and singer.


Natasha has never been truly in love with someone, so she lacks a certain softness that some ment want. She’s much better at the tie-me-down-and-show-me-that-you-like me, rough-love sort of situations. Natasha knows how to have sex; but when it comes to making love… she’s at a loss. She also is a terrible cook, if it can burn—it will. She has a revenge problem that she doesn’t quite know how to stop; as I said earlier, once you get on her bad side… you’re there for good. She also has a jealous bone the size of Texas. She is extremely jealous of those younger than her, especially The Baby and the Madam’s Daughter. The Security is the only man she’s ever met that was decent, and after years of being around him he has remained that way. She’s developed a tender spot for him, and in a world of lust and fantasy, a real world fancy could mean the end of you. The Madam warned her when she first started against falling for anyone. Escorts are not meant to fall in love.


“It’s not a choice…”


! Overdosing. When you walk into a bathroom and find the woman who read you bedtime stories slumped over in a pool of her own blood, it's going to stick with you. The tiny white pills lay sprawled out from her fingertips, and a white soft foam gurgled from her throat when Natasha moved her into a seated position. She will never forget. The voices won't let her. ""

! Being found out. A life on the run would have been exhausting. Instead, she chose to live in the spotlight; hidden in plain sight. There is always the threat though, with every uniform pair of pants that she unzips. What if someone found out? What if someone knew? She would rather die than go to jail. "I'm not meant to live in a cage."

! Growing old. They say you can't stay young and beautiful forever; but Natasha wants to prove them wrong. Even though she has just turned 23, her baby face is her job security. This fear is only a recent one, when The Baby was brought onto the team. Seeing her young, youthful face turns Natasha's stomach into knots. " She's so beautiful... "

”Let me try to help you understand…”



Where shall we begin? At the beginning, I suppose. Natasha was born in the small, very isolated, Northern town of Staunton, Virginia. You practically need a magnifying glass to find it on the map. She was raised there as a happy child. At the age of ten she started cheerleading. Her mother was so proud. Natasha mother, Annabelle Peirce, was her idol. The two did almost everything together, and her mother never missed a cheerleading competition. When Natasha was 13 a boy from school came home with her on the bus. His name was Tyler, and he was 15. He was a handsome boy, with dark brown hair and charming green eyes. Of course Natasha was in love with him. They went into her treehouse, and he kissed her ever so gently on the cheek. “Don’t tell anyone.” he had said. She promised she wouldn’t, and he showed her what was below his belt. “You want to touch it?” he asked. Natasha felt a small twist in her stomach. This was wrong. She told him he didn’t, want went to climb out of the tree house, but he grabbed her by her ankle and pull her back, forced her down, and raped her. Tyler told her that if she told anyone, he’d kill her. So she didn’t, and once a week after school Tyler would come over.

Around her 16th birthday, Tyler moved away- he joined the Army. Surprisingly things went back to normal for Natasha. She was doing very well on the cheerleading team now, and although she wasn’t captain yet there were rumors of her being voted for next. A few months after Natasha turned 17, her mother committed suicide. Distraught, Natasha dropped out of cheerleading. It wouldn’t be the same without her mother. She went through the rest of high school in a haze, secretly sleeping around with almost the entire football team. Well, it was only a secret to her father who didn’t pay he much attention at all. It seemed his mind was elsewhere those days. It took two years for her to figure out why her sweet mother committed suicide. Her father had been cheating on her—with a man. Unable to bare the shame in such a small southern town, her mother opted for a different way out. She overdosed herself on Natasha’s pain medicine that had been left over from a sprained wrist from Cheerleading. Natasha found her slumped over in the bathroom – too late to be saved. To this day Natasha would rather suffer through being sick, than take a pill.

Unable to stand the sight of her father, and loathing him for what he did to her mother, she decided that she was going to kill him. She waited very patiently. She could have won an award for her acting skills, as she even made him believe that she forgave him and wanted to meet this ‘other man’. After months of waiting, her father finally worked up the courage to let her meet this man in person.
She came down the stairs of their beautiful, but lonely, two story home and froze. Hand still on the railing, she staring calmly at the sight before her. Tyler. He stood with an idiotic, embarrassed smile on his face, with one of his arms wrapped around her father’s waist. She blinked once, twice, three times; trying to clear this nightmare from in front of her—but it was real. Collecting herself, she told her father that she forgave him, and asked if Tyler would be staying the night. Thrilled that his daughter was so accepting, he asked and Tyler agreed to stay the night. She waited until they left to go pick up dinner for the three of them. In their absence, she set about her plan. When they returned, she pretended that everything was fine, and went to bed early. She sat in her room, which was across the hall from her fathers room, and glared at her reflection as she listened to their moans. Once they had stopped, she calmly put her bookbag full of everything she thought she’d need, including the money from her father’s safe, onto her back.

She calmly walked out the door, turning on her heel at the last moment to take in the vision of her family’s estate. With a blank expression she dropped the match onto the gasoline soaked rug, and stood for a moment to watch the flames burst and rush up the trail she had made just after they went to sleep. She calmly walked down the dirt driveway of her house as flames began to fill up the windows of her childhood home. She turned and looked back, only able to make out two figures frantically trying to open the windows of her father’s room. You see, they had not noticed when they went to bed that she had switched the door knob around, so as to lock it from the outside. Nor did they notice as they made love, throbbing the headboard of the bed into the wall, that she had also nailed the windows shut earlier that day. Their screams sounded very muffled from her distance. Ironic, how her father called for help now when he knew there was none. He had chosen the house so far into the sticks, away from people, himself. There was not a soul for at least twelve miles.

That was the last time she saw her father. She didn’t know where she was going, but when she reached the bus stop she bought the first ticket out. Detroit, Michigan read the sign above the bus. “Detroit, huh? Sounds good to me…”

When she arrived in Detroit she had very little money left. With no money for another bus ticket, she decided this was where she’d stay. Once all of her money was gone, due to food and hotel expenses, and unable to find work, it seemed only natural to join a brothel. She had had her virginity stolen from her, so sex for her was just a means for money; nothing more. It wasn’t long before the Madam found her and showed her what it was like to be a classy escort over a slutty whore. She began to bring in the money faster than any other girl; and the men began asking for her by name. By the time she was 20, she was at the top of her game, and bringing in loads from The Madam. Life was perfect, or, perfect for her. Who could turn up their nose at three meals, housing, and being the guilty pleasure of all the richest men in Detroit? Not Natasha.

The voices started after she turned 21. She had never been much of a drinker, but Vodka quickly became her best friend. It soothed away the guilty voices in her mind, and hushed the screams of her father that echoed on a sick repeat. Now, at 23, she has started seeing things. Her mother slumped over in bathrooms, or her father’s face in reflective surfaces. It’s a real mood-killer. Natasha knows as long as she brings in money, she can stay, so she pretends her mind is not deteriorating at the rate that it is. To make matters worse, there’s The Baby she has to worry about now. She’s young, and beautiful, and a threat. Natasha realizes now that she’s turned 23 that she might not be able to do this forever. She is comforted by the fact that she has a baby face, and can easily look 19. She’s started lying about her age to clients, able to be however old The Madam wants her to be. Above everything, Natasha knows she has to stop hearing the voices, has to stop seeing things. Her life depends on it… but they just won’t go away.


So begins...

Natasha Ivory Peirce's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Evony de la Longine Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine
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“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.

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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Jynxii


“UGH!” The red punching bag came flying back at her, and once again Natasha threw her weight at the dangling workout equipment. With a growl, she jammed an upper-cut, then a crossover, a left, a right, a left-- she stepped back and kicked her leg up over her head to the top of the bag. A sickening -thunk- rang out as her shin connected with the bag. With a step back, she prepared herself for her next assault. Her pony tail whipped around and slapped her check as she did a round-off kick into the punching bag. Gasping for air after she landed, Natasha took a few steps back and put her hands onto her small waist line. Looking up to the ceiling, she took in some deep breaths to try and calm herself. The whispers had slowly drained away, replaced now by the soft hum of her heartbeat in her ears.

Grabbing her water bottle and taking a long draft, she made her way up the stairs and to her room. She smelled like sweat. Gross. She peeled her clothes off and tossed the sweaty garments into her hamper. The shower was warm, and soothing. Steam rolled up the glass shower door, fogging her view out of the glass. Taking in deep breaths of the mist, Naty closed her eyes and let her mind wander. They'd be going to a retirement party tonight. Old men, with weathered bodies, deep pockets, and crowded closets. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Old men tipped really well.

Natasha reluctantly peeled herself from her shower and dried herself off. She went light on the makeup, and chose to curl her hair into long beautiful ringlets. She strolled into her bedroom naked as a jaybird, seemingly unbothered by this. She chose a black lace corset that contrasted beautifully with her skin, and a matching black thong. Her dress for the evening, as she pulled it from her closet, was a skimpy red dress with black heels.

Once her outfit was finished she slowly walked over to her bedside table. Slowly she pulled the drawer out, and looked down at the half empty vodka bottle. I wonder if I can make it through tonight with you, old friend... Remembering that the Madam was coming with them, she gently pushed the drawer shut. She didn't really want to lose her job tonight. Nibbling on her lower lip she strolled across the room back to her door, glancing to her left (into the bathroom) on her way out just out of habit. Her mother lay on the floor in a pool of blood! Natasha screamed and stumbled backwards, knocking over her coat rack by the door. The thin wooden pole hit the floor with Natasha. Scrambling backwards frantically from both the bathroom and the pole, Natasha sat against the side of her bed breathing heavily.

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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Kaydence was in her room with the door closed and her radio playing softly in the background. She was sitting at her desk with a drawing pad in front of her and her hand moving ever so slowly. Most of the day Kaydence stayed in her room, she had a hard time sleeping after she got done her work because nightmares of her past plagued her dreams and she was a bit emotional thoughout the day. No one would really question this because during her spare time she usually would spend it alone. She was still kinda unsure of how the other girls felt of her and she really was more of the loner type.

So most of the day she spent either reading or drawing, only going out to get a drink or a snack. As she was drawing her alarm went off on her night stand signaling that she had to start getting ready for the evening, she wasn't exactly thrilled about going out to a retirement party and she would have to entertain old men which just makes her want to throw up but she couldn't afford to lose her job so she really had to just go with it.

She went and took a quick shower and then got dressed in a black dress and black heels. She dis up her makeup and curled a few strands of her hair. As she was getting ready she heard a scream and a crash from the room next to hers, which was Natasha's. Ever aince meeting Natasha, Kaydence has wanted to get to know the older girl more but Natasha always seemed to give her the cold shoulder. Even so somehow she has developed some feelings for the older brunette which she knew she would never confront Natasha with.

Kaydence left her room and walked a few steps until she was standing in front of Natasha's door and knocked a couple times "Natasha...are you uh okay in there? Its uh..Kitten" she said in a soft low voice. She then opened the door slowly and peeked in, ahe saw a coatrack on the floor and Natasha leaning against the bed breathing a bit heavily. She wanted to go right in and try to help her but she wasn't sure if that was the best idea. So she stayed standing in the doorway "what happened?" she asked as she peered down at the coatrack then back to Natasha as she waited for an answer.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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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.

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]

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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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.

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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine Character Portrait:
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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.

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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine Character Portrait:
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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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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Evony de la Longine Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine
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"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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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Evony de la Longine Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Anthony de la Longine Character Portrait:
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    The lack of balance in the room was evident; she could smell it. And its source? It came from Natasha. Anneka prided herself on noticing, on seeing the tiniest traces of instability. The girl hid it well, admittedly, but could anyone fool the master? She could even sense the revulsion at her nudity, but why should she care? She wasn't here to make friends; she was here to bring them all down. But on second thought... perhaps she needed their affections to pass suspicion. She needed to fit in. Madame wouldn't tolerate any 'funny business,' as Robert called it. He had warned her of everything. He was in charge of the Midnight Lounge case, which meant his career rested in her pretty little hands. Oh, if only she could let them crumble out, like ashes from her lips. But it would cost her more than his anger, it would most likely cost her her life. So Anneka made a small sympathetic noise and perused the room. "A spider? You poor thing." She kept her voice soft, rough and low and husky, smooth edges and all texture. Her normal voice was much more feminine, higher and girly. But she was a prostitute, and that wasn't the voice a prostitute ought to have.

    She didn't mind that Clara ignored her. She would expect nothing less. And she hardly cared about the 'man' of the house, Anthony de la Longine. Just another pest of Madame's. Anneka would much rather dig her nails into the diamond of the house: Natasha. It was no use denying her attraction to the girl; it ran in her veins even now, this longing for possession of the powerful. Because that was what Natasha was: powerful. She was the top girl of the Midnight Lounge, the drawer of money, of attention and the hollers of men. She wanted to own Natasha. She wanted to be on top of her and make her scream, she wanted to know that she alone had the power to bring her to such divine pleasure. It was her nature, to seek the people at the very top. She would have gone for Madame, if the woman hadn't repulsed her so. The woman did not own Anneka. No one did. Not even Robert, the fool who believed he had conquered the untamed beauty.

    Well, speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Or in this case, a she. Anneka turned and found herself face to face with the Madame herself, in all of her icy splendor. She hid the immediate hatred that flooded her tongue and tossed her hair out of her face, lowering her chin in what would pass for humility. She stepped out of the way, making sure she headed in Natasha's direction, and gave the woman some room. This was her number one enemy, the woman at the top of her black list. She was the one Anneka was conspiring against, and she must not think anything irregular of her. But... well, she was naked. She knew Madame's type: the kind of woman who wanted perfection, rushed after it, would not stop until she attained it. And nudity wasn't acceptable, even for the prostitutes under her care.

    Madame's words proved her correct, but it still elicited a strong indignant in her. She quelled it and nodded her head meekly, meeting Madame's eyes obediently. "I'm sorry, Madame," she said dutifully, swallowing down her biting, bitter words gently. "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, Anneka added silently. Her face was carefully masked with a blank deference, and she maintained it even after Madame walked away. She would not lose control; she never did. She had no trouble flicking her true emotions aside, but this woman was bound to test her. Anneka would have to earn the woman's trust.

    She was up to the challenge.

    Anneka turned to the other girls and offered them a smile, albeit distant and a little detached. "Oops," she said calmly, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly. "I hope you girls don't mind about my, well..." Anneka motioned down her body with the back of her right hand, making a backwards J gracefully. "I was just a little worried about the scream." She knew how she was coming off: cool, confident, mysterious. She liked it that way. Let these girls wonder; perhaps it would draw them closer. She leveled her gaze on Natasha and smiled once more, adding a little warmth to her lips. Perhaps it would draw this girl closer. "But everything is okay, and I will go get dressed now. I'll see you all tonight."

    And with that, Anneka left. She entered her own room and touched up her make up, slipped into her dress, and smiled coolly at her reflection. Beautiful. Smoldering. And absolutely irresistible. As usual.

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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Evony de la Longine Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait:
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#, 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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Character Portrait: Natasha Ivory Peirce Character Portrait: Anneka Vanity Character Portrait: Evony de la Longine Character Portrait: Clara Jane Mason Character Portrait: Kaydence Dixen Character Portrait:
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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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"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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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.