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Post by harlow grace jax on Aug 23, 2012 15:28:39 GMT -5
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[atrb=width,400] but i might drink a little bit more than i should tonight Having ended her shift, Harlow say goodnight to a few colleagues before heading to the locker rooms. Clicking her key round in the lock, she brought out her own clothes before rapidly changing. Neatly putting in her body armour and belt; complete with handcuffs her radio and other items, she pulled out a small make up bag before heading to the ladies.
Running a hand through her thick ebony tresses, Harlow slung her head upside down. Gather the wavy locks she drew her head back up, twisting a band round absentmindedly she styled a somewhat messy bun. Rolling her eyes, she studied the lack of makeup upon her features, her uniform was so plain, no colour. A thing in which she loved to experiment with outside of work. Taking a small brush from her bag Harlow dipped it lightly into a smoky grey colour. Closing one eye she dusted the dark powder over her lids, adding a little silver for sparkle she repeated on the other eye. Lips curling into a smile content as she span round on her heels, watching the clock for a brief moment it seemed to take all her effort swing open the door of the toilets. Heading back into the locker room she slumped down with huff before pulling her work boots off changing them to something more casual.
Despite the limited movement with her tight leather trousers, Harlow glided across to room to exit through the back door, a deep inhalation of the air pleased her. The night was warm, not even a slight breeze to deter from it. Walking out towards the lit ally, shallow pounding beats from the drummed the air already, 9:00… someone’s starting early Leaning against the wall for a moment, she planned what on earth she should do. Tipping her snapback down, the woman’s face guarded by a shadow. The only brief light to illuminate her came from her lighter, shoving it back into her bag after lighting a joint. Inhaling the intoxicating fumes, her head fell back against the wall in an absentminded state. Blowing out the smoke in circular puffs, slight amusement came from watching the patterns dance in the air. Rolling her head side wards, silently she watched all manner of people walk past on the main pavement. Echoed clatters of light voices, shoes , and the slurred speech of those already tipsy before hitting the clubs. Keeping her gaze focused on one particular figure, Harlow concentrated on the man. She was sure she recognised him. Clasping her lights in a tight seal around the joint, a swift pace kicked her from the wall.
Ey, dickhead A playful tone to her voice, she almost chucked as she headed over to him. Taking the roll from her mouth, a break taking smile graced her. Drawing closer she saw in fact it was Dmitri, an old friend of hers, he was spirited and wild much like her… and plus he was good looking. Reaching him playfully she slung an arm round his shoulder giving an almost male headlock style greeting. Do you fancy going for a drink? I have nothing else to do with my life.. Keeping her tone light, the warm Brits words rolled her lips in a flow.
tag:Dmitri word count:542 outfit:CLICKME notes:It's crap, I rambled and I never write that much :L. |
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Post by dmitri rafael cain on Aug 24, 2012 8:21:44 GMT -5
[style=width: 170px; height: 350px; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 10px; background-color: #c1bdbd; border-bottom: 20px solid #000; padding: 10px;]The day had been spent locked in frustration. In a hired room and armed only with a few too many cups of acidic black coffee, Dmitri and his colleagues had endured the long hours of an open casting call. Prospective models turned up in droves, in inappropriate clothes or all too few of them; some were considered, but more were turned away. The worst were the ones who took rejection sorely, tenaciously arguing their case as if they knew better than an industry insider. At first Dmitri had kept level, smiled disarmingly, offered words of consolation that thank you for your interest but you’re not quite the look we’re representing at the present. Time wore on so slowly to give the illusion of the clock’s hands crawling backwards when unwatched; and as it passed, his patience waned and tension grew, his pen point pressing through the page from too much pressure. Rubbing his temples, pinching the bridge of his nose, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him.
Sloping shoulders. No. Five feet six inches. No. Healthy BMI. No.
After years of experience, he could identify the winning bone structure with a glance; it irritated him no end, the vanity and delusion possessed by some of these men and women to think that they had a chance. His manners degenerated into a dismissive shake of the head and a disinterested glance towards the next candidate, leaving a weary intern to shepherd the declined hopeful out into the foyer. Sympathy was not a winning business strategy. He would never sign anyone who wasn’t going to make him money; it was an industry where one could lose a lot on a bad investment. Success took a specific, rare set of characteristics with a short shelf life that, in all their genetic implausibility, were what the photographic campaigns wanted; and if he didn’t provide it, somebody else would step in to do so. Sure, it was an oppressive ideal – but he didn’t create it. He merely set out to profit from it.
When the evening rolled around, he was happy to draw the ordeal to a close. He left the chair that had ensnared him, rolling the tension from his shoulders and showing out the last of the disgruntled crowd. They had booked a handful of possibles for test shoots. It would do.
Later, he found himself parking a few streets away from the nightclub. He cupped his hands against the breeze as he lit a cigarette, walking with his typical slow, nonchalant gait as if nothing was important enough to make him hurry. He was dressed in clothes that were well-cut and understated, subtly immaculate, an expensive version of himself. Smoke curled sullenly from his mouth into the darkening air.
Fantasy generally had too young and green a crowd to suit him, but the music was loud enough that he didn’t even have to pretend to listen to the inane shit that they came out with.
A familiar musky, vaguely sweet smell was being carried along by the breeze, instantly recognisable for the substance it originated from. A voice called behind him; he turned to see a dark-haired young woman approaching, the hint of a laugh caught on her face. Harlow. He stopped to let her catch up, taking in the tight jeans and grungy clothes, a smirk playing across his lips.
“Evening, princess.”
She slung her arm around his shoulder and he squeezed her waist in greeting. They had been friends, and sometimes more, for – oh, perhaps a year or two; it had been here, in fact, that they had met. Harlow never failed to amuse him with her blatant flouting of her occupational responsibilities. He kept an idle bet with himself over how long youthful arrogance could hold out in the face of the random drug tests common in the police force. That is, if small town gossips didn’t put paid to it before legality got the chance to.
At her words, he inclined his head to indicate the establishment further up the street. “Oddly enough,” he said deadpan, “that was where I was headed for. Though your company will as always be a pleasure, needless to say.”
He stubbed out his cigarette and let it fall to be crushed by a leather boot, still regarding Harlow with the same arch expression. “Leading by example I see, officer. How's crime-fighting these days?”
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Post by harlow grace jax on Aug 24, 2012 11:16:55 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] Harlow Jax Leave The Scene Smelling Of Dead Roses Holding the joint in firm grip, her bright lips locked a vice like touch as she snaked her arm back from him. Of course she done this slower than need be, ever the playful one she just couldn’t help herself. Drawing up her left hand, Harlow inhaled the lingering fumes. Turning her head away for a moment, she almost spat the smoke in a wispy dance of musk. Taking it from her mouth, lightly she flicked the badly made roll up between her delicate fingers. Matching his pace, an escape of half tied ebony tresses framed the curve of her features. A smile curled her lips; the subtle movement highlighting the dainty definition to her cheekbones. High and sculpted. Glancing out of respect with his speech, she caught his smouldering gaze for a moment. Eyes almost black in the fading light, dangerous yet enticing. Taking note of his greeting, the smile simply winded for a split second to acknowledge his words. As ever the same rich tone left him, a velvet taint to the name in which he called her. Focusing her gaze on the path ahead it was surprisingly quiet, regardless to the time this was Alpine Heights… People where drunk or high at any time of the day.
Solid beats of the thick heeled shoes fell with muted thuds, the only real sound came from the array of accessories she wore. With a barely audible jangle, each stride sought the spikes of her earrings collide together, as did various charms to her multiple bracelets. Faltering a heavy step disrupted it all though, his touch to her side; a rather ticklish spot sent her waist gently twisting as she pushed into his hip. A downfall of her which she despised, being so sensitive. Being touched anywhere from waist to ribs would just reduce her to curl up her body, quite annoying really. Not that it seemed people complained when she pushes herself into them by reactions.
Drawing closer to the line of clubs and adult entertainment, each distinctive beat, low pulse of the bass and song became clear. Just the sheer intensity of the music and lights escaping the interior hyped her, a solid drinker, a spark in her eye as Harlow studied the approaching mass of neon signs.
” Weeeeell what a coincidence” Her tone blatant sarcasm, of course a teasing vive as normal. ” As will yours, I’m sure I can put up with you for a few hours She joked with an enchanting chuckle looking up at him, a warm gaze upon her briefly she snapped her attention to the club.” As ever Mr Cain. Eh, I get the occasional decent job, a proper little scene with some action, not just someone calling because their boyfriend shouted at them… Waltzing passed the security guards, she flashed a playful smile taking Dmitri’s hands as hauled him into the mass of people. Half dancing as she walked, Harlow headed straight for the bar. Whatcha drinking? The loud question just audible over the music as she lightly reclined her hand from his. |
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Post by dmitri rafael cain on Aug 26, 2012 14:39:31 GMT -5
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Inside, Harlow caught his hand and they headed straight to the bar. A number of other people stood around it, but the place wouldn’t truly fill for a couple of hours yet; the crowds were yet to come. Wallet in hand, it was easy to get the bartender’s attention.
“Double of Jameson, neat, no ice.”
It was common modern folklore that you could tell a lot about a person by how they treated waiters and those who worked behind a bar; and Dmitri spoke to the man like he was beneath his interest, merely a functional aspect of the backdrop. His tone was abrupt and indifferent, his eyes roaming lazily over the bottles behind the bar and then back to his companion. His arm moved around Harlow’s waist again, hand finding its mark on the small of her back.
“So, what am I buying you tonight?”
They had been here together so many times that he knew her preferences like the back of his hand, but force of habit made the question an inarguable part of their routine. His whiskey was placed on the bar, and one of Dmitri’s many-ringed hands made claim on the glass. A generous tip made speed worth the bartender’s while.
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Post by harlow grace jax on Aug 26, 2012 15:20:22 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] Harlow Jax Baby I'm howlin' for you
Eyeing the barman with a seductive gaze, Harlow mouthed a set of words as she vaguely knew the heavy based song to blare from the decks. She loved to hate this place, the scene was good to get drunk and dace with complete strangers, but the music was little up her street. In all honestly she would rather kick back with Dmitri, a bottle of wine god knows what else and some classic rock. She couldn’t complain though, she had company and excuse to drunk and no doubt do things she shouldn’t. Her aimless musing broke by the half stern order of his from behind, Harlow had her body arched; partly leaning forth onto the marbled surface. Casting her gaze back, a warm smile flexed her lips upwards in a sweet manner.
After he had given the order for liquor, Harlow followed suit Vodka and ice please Her voice somewhat friendly as her attention flickered to the barman giving a smile. Delving into her bag, Harlow pulled out the correct change placing it on the strobe glowing counter. He’d done it again, the light touch to her flinched her side as thick lashed blocked the world out for a moment. Damn being ticklish She loved his forth ward company and thinking, just simple things like arm round her brought a smirk to her face. Nodding a thank you, she pulled over the dark reaching behind as she took a sip. Not all one to drink so called “Pussy” drinks, Harlow sticks of straight liquor, unless of course meandering with friends over a bottle of Corona and lime. Moving herself slightly closer, their bodies touched as she almost contemplated dragging him onto the dance floor for another excuse to get close to him. But she really she needn’t do that, just simple words in his smouldering tone would take her crawling back to his arms. You don’t have to buy me anything D, you know that. There are things you could give me… but we should be a little drunk for that Biting her bottom lip she purposely shot a teasing tone, she meant all manner of things in her play on words. ”So how’s the life of working hot ladies everyday treating you?
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Post by dmitri rafael cain on Aug 27, 2012 11:01:55 GMT -5
[style=width: 170px; height: 350px; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 10px; background-color: #c1bdbd; border-bottom: 20px solid #000; padding: 10px;]Harlow’s coquettish glances at the bartender didn’t bother Dmitri at all; his presence barely registered with him. Immediately as she placed her money down, he had swept it aside and returned it to her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He pulled a couple of bills from his wallet and passed them to the bartender, already turning away.
She pressed herself against his side; his hold around her waist may have tightened a little, but otherwise he appeared to take the contact for granted. He looked down at Harlow at the sound of her words, amusement glinting in his dark eyes.
“Oh, I’m so intolerable sober?”
Their relationship was clouded; ostensibly, they were friends, but even a stranger glancing at the two of them could see that wasn’t the truth. Older men did not form tactile platonic friendships with women in their early twenties. Yet any reference to this ambiguous relationship, not quite friendship but something else, had to be evasive and oblique. Those were the unwritten, unspoken rules of this pointless little game. Dmitri supposed it made it more interesting, the are-they-aren’t-they element – pretending that each other was unavailable, that the union was somehow taboo.
“I enjoy treating you. I’d give you more, if it wouldn’t offend your pride.” It was true; presents and gifts for no particular reason, some more expensive than others, were something Dmitri naturally tended towards. He had an inflated sense of his own importance in this town, and conspicuous consumption was an instinctive consequence of that. But that kind of behaviour risked entering an uncomfortable ‘sugar daddy’ territory, and he was never sure whether Harlow would find that distasteful. “Indulge a single man, give him somebody to spend his money on.”
He took a sip of his drink, tasting the smooth, spicy notes that were – after twenty years of habitude – so familiar as to become mundane. On a night out he was usually known for disappearing off to the men’s room at regular intervals, only to return alert, more talkative than his taciturn self, slightly wired and aggressive – more than once, Harlow had been the one to point out the swift run of blood from his nose ruining another shirt. But Dmitri knew that Ariadne’s arrival to stay with him drew nearer, and the thought of the fatherly façade he needed to perfect kept him restrained from pursuing his usual chemical accompaniments. But he would enjoy this freedom with Harlow while he could.
She asked about his work, and he rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “Repetitive, frustrating, and full of marketing and budgeting,” he said. “I still ask myself every day – how the fuck did I get into the fashion industry?” Dmitri had never had a particular interest in this line; years ago he had started up the business as a quick money-spinner that he thought he could later sell on, but he had found himself sticking with it, and now he supposed he would do so until he retired. He wasn’t sure when his dreams and aspirations had fallen by the wayside. “The travel is tolerable compensation. Want to smuggle along with me to Mexico sometime?”
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Post by harlow grace jax on Aug 27, 2012 13:03:46 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] Harlow Jax I'ma party, I'm gon' dance, put your hands up on my body To him sweeping back the money she flashed a thank you smile, it was kind of him. Ever as charming, ever the man never short of money. Slipping the money back into her purse, Harlow sipped the icy drink in hand. The strong liquor ran line of refreshment down her parched throat, the single sip more enticing as she threw it back in no more than two gulps of the oversized shot glass. She had to control her drinking though, she couldn’t end up paralytic in arms, that would just be awful. Feeling his soft grasp around her tighten, a smirk played her lips to the tasteful company. Of course she got look when with him, who wouldn’t be slightly intrigued to the obvious age difference, little did it bother her though. It was exciting, it amused her both men and women almost frowned to see either already with an affiliate for the night. ”Never, but it’s always more fun after a couple, and you can’t expect me not to knock them back
A slight laugh passed her lips as reminisced on the remark, god, what did she sound like. She was a women of the law and acted like a teenager, some point she would have to sort her life out. Harlow could easily admit to drinking too much, even to extent of massive excess at time. Then there was the smoking, she had developed such a casual habit for the intoxicating fumes, a guilty pleasure. Running a hand to the band that held back her raven hair, she snagged it out twisting it round her wrist. Her silky tresses fell to one side in a perfect parting, a slight wave to the gleam a content sigh passed her lips. Raising an eyebrow, one hand laced round his as she flexed a ringed finger inspecting the odd design engraved into one of them. The rings he wore always fascinated her, things from skulls to large gems, all equally more impressive than the small hear and rose one she wore.
Looking up at his dark eyes, she smiled to his remark. Such a gentleman. I’m not having you spend lots of money on me, you do enough for me just being there when I’m out my face. Her words trailed off as she stopped herself from springing up an idea. How temptation loomed But you could buy us a night in a motel No, she couldn’t say, he wouldn’t even take her attraction seriously. Lingering her sapphire eyes over his for a moment more, she resumed to people watching the small crowed linger in the club. His next comment barely gave her an excuse to hold back, she couldn’t though. She could not just ask him to buy things, even with his offering it just seemed to rude. ”Why don’t you surprise me with something then? There, that would suffice. A teasing statement with no inclination to what she really wanted to do.
To him stating the downside of his job she could not help but let an entrancing small laugh release her, it must be hard work but surely not as bad as he made out to be? ”You go into fashion because you get to spend the day with hot women, something most people would love to do She had to state the obvious, he must like the perk of staggering round athletic bikini covered bodies all the time, and the rewards he reaped where not exactly bad. Looking over the crowed she caught a glimpse of someone she vaguely knew, flashing a half interested smile her attention went back to Dmitri to his proposal. Slightly turning her body towards him, she reached up placing a hand on his shoulder. ”Only if I’m smuggled in your hand luggage Her attempt to keep deadly serious to the playful completely failed as she gave a warm laugh, her head rested on his arm a moment before taking back her stance. Oh, and by the way, I will get you dancing tonight a teasing aura tainted her words, giving her bottom lip a brief bite she looked up at him with a fake innocence to the soon to be drunken demand.
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