Thread: Bright Young Thing ::: {Prince of Smut & Ariamella}

RE Bright Young Thing Prince Ariamella A pile of dresses lay haphazardly in the corner of Scarlett's boudoir, and she flopped herself down on the plush chaise lounge that faced her closet doors. Ugh, there were almost two dozen other dresses to choose from, and yet there was still nothing to wear! She felt like a budding socialite again, worried over whether her attire would be well-received and, more importantly, whether the dress would catch the eye of the man she wanted to impress. She checked the time, reading 200 on the desk clock that sat atop a jewelry cabinet, and sighed dinner with Brian was still four and a half hours away, but here she was, fretting over what dress she thought he would like the best. With her busy schedule it was a miracle he even agreed to meet for dinner after she told him that she was bound to prior certain morning commitments, but who knows, maybe he wanted to see her just as much as she wanted to see him! The romantic thought brought her mind back to the clothing before her, and she once again eyed the rack of hung dresses. Perhaps Brian would like the conservative fashion of the linen white sheath? No, she shook her head thoughtfully. What she needed was an evening dress, not a day dress. The satin violet with the exquisite bead work was always a possibility... Hm, but maybe not. It looked much too formal for the dinner, plus the style looked a bit dated. The last thing she wanted was to have Brian think What did she want? Scarlett sighed for the second time as she finally stood, throwing on a basic cotton dress and gathering her belongings. There really was no better feeling than daddy's money and a little bit of retail therapy, and the dinner date with Brian was a perfect excuse for her to enjoy both those things. The Westin chauffeur dropped the young lady off at Burke's, a high-class store that she frequently shopped at. The saleswoman at Burke's was a middle-class woman with the refinement of high society and the a taste for fashion that any woman could appreciate. She was young, some Londoner who moved to America to stay with her uncle and his thriving business. Personally, Scarlett loved that he made and sold only the highest quality garments, and in turn he loved that the young socialite would blow cash in his store on a monthly basis. The redhead inspected herself in the full length mirror, turning her body this way and that to make sure the dress fit her curves well. She had spent close to two hours in the back getting the dress rehemmed and taken in, stressing to Henry Burke and his niece that it was a matter of utmost importance. It was obvious he hated being rushed in his work, but it was also obvious that he loved pocketing Judge Westin's money-- especially after Scarlett offered to pay double the normal price for such short notice. You look fantastic, Miss Westin, the saleswoman said for the nearly the tenth time, her cockney accent beginning to sound bored and tired. Only you could pull off such a daring and fetching look. It was true the dress, while not being as short as one of the flapper dresses, was still pushing the limit in respectable society. The satin fabric and overlaying black lace dipped low between her breasts and came up to an inch above her knees. Oh yes, this was the kind of fashion choice that often kept her name in the society sections of the papers. With black gloves and dark sheer stockings to match, the girl was finally ready for her date with Brian. Tell Henry I'll be back later this month to have my dress made for the Hayes' annual gala. Give him my thanks for yet another beautiful piece of work, Scarlett finally responded, leaving the back room and giving a nod to the owner of the establishment before stepping out to the sunset dimming over Chicago. One of the reasons she loved this particular shopping area was that it was neighbored by various upscale establishments ranging from restaurants to hotels, with a number of fancy clubs to top it all off. It was conveniently in the same vicinity as the restaurant where she was to meet the federal agent and, even better, it was near another one of the high-end speakeasies that she and Penelope so loved to frequent. In fact, there were a surprising amount of speakeasies in this area, serving as proof that alcohol was enjoyed by the higher end of society just as much as lower class citizens. The time was just reaching 430, and with all the spare time until dinner, she decided it was a perfect time for a drink. Scarlett entered the illegal club with ease, nodding at the bouncer behind her. As long as she had cash in her hand he always let her in. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't seen her before. Granted, she had always come with Penelope and looked a bit different because of the amount of makeup she wore, but she was to the point where entering speakeasies in this part of town hardly scared her. Most people came just to drink, and if there were any disruptive guests the bouncer was more than happy to show them out. She sat at the bar, smiling at the familiar sounds of happy chatter and the clanking of glasses against tables as the patrons began to drink the night away. It was heavenly, the release of stress that alcohol brought, one that was particularly enticing for tonight's events. She was about to go out with a man she barely knew, whose intentions included marriage as well as wooing. If she hadn't been curious enough to eavesdrop, she might have thought Brian was doing it because he was genuinely interested in her, but right now their situation seemed too calculated... Like he was in it for political gain. God, she needed a drink. Bourbon with a splash of cool water, please, she told the bartender. Steel nerves required harder alcohol to unravel, and the burn of the alcohol going down her throat made her feel warm all over, melting any of the I'll thoughts that settled over her as she thought about the coming dinner. Time seemed to pass slowly as Scarlett ordered another, aiming to buzz her mind just enough to stop worrying about Brian and whatever plans he had for his-- their-- future. On the third bourbon, she stood and stretched her body that seemed to hum with contentness at the poison running through her veins. Thank you, she said with a slight giggle, sliding a small stack of bills to the bartender. It was only 530 but with the amount she had been drinking, Scarlett knew it was for the best if she left-- she was still a lady and she still had an image to uphold for the man who wanted to be her future husband.