Thread: Paradise Isle  (Fades & Good Girls)

The going-ons were still early, and the embarrassment of riches had only but begun to overflow. One young woman, a fantastic actress, traditional beauty incarnate, had only but vowed her unending devotion to him, having bared herself naked to the world and accepted the intimacy of his brand directly upon her heart - this had only just now happened, and out walked another, a brown-eyed brunette clad in white lace dcor, assumedly to repeat the process, as if somehow the singular devotee would not be enough. No, he was to receive a pile of pretty things today, each of them a treasure in their own right. And there were two others to come, should their decisions hold - soon enough he would be like a dragon, curled atop that embarrassment of riches like the treasure hoard they would be. Well. It was more like they'd be sprawled out atop him piles of soft, giggly, pretty things, boobs and butts everywhere. Paradise indeed. He watched, for now, Jeffrey did. This was Ariana's moment. His Ariana, soon enough. It was an immense feeling, all the money in the world aside, seeing someone literally step on a stage that was being broadcast across the globe with the intention of declaring theirself yours without catch. He took in the loveliness of her outfit, innocent in its color, girlish and alluring along with the wavy cascade of her hair, yet mostly covering at the same time still, showing off only strategic bits of skin. He watched everything, how she owned the stage, how she posed and smiled and waved and simply became a beacon that everyone's eyes transfixed to, as if there wasn't some A-List actress naked and knelt at the front of the stage, the air still smelling with the scent of her vow of slavery. Rather, Ariana took control of it all, he observed, with poise and precision he wondered if the young girl fully realized she had, if it were a conscious thing or pure personality. Those were the best sorts, he knew, when they were just so smooth that you couldn't even tell. And he watched her take a moment with her soon-to-be sister, minutes away from joining Emilia in matching kneel. The exchange was brief, but interesting. In the two weeks since this whole crazy scheme had been announced the names of the volunteering women had been kept from him until very recently, and he hadn't a chance yet to spend time with any of them in private. Before all this was a thing, Jeffrey Tremonti wasn't a workaholic per se, but he also wasn't a huge Hollywood socialite, so he didn't know any of these women at all yet beyond their public personas. The thought dawned on him, though, in this moment as he watched, to wonder if any of the four knew one another before going into this. Were these two friends? Or was this a simple moment of congratulation? But as little Ariana came to him, his thoughts shifted focus to her entirely. Her brown eyes gazed into his blues, and his blues gazed right back, matching her warm, lingering smile with one of his own. She took the microphone. She whipped her hair about. She joked, and many laughed. Then she went to stand off a bit on her own, as if she was going to do something, and...didn't seem to do anything. Was she controlling the moment? Setting a tone? Jeffrey waited. A good fifteen, twenty seconds. His brow furrowed. This was her moment, but her also couldn't shake the worry of cold feet - and while many would assume that to come of greed, of a want for his 'pretty pile' to grow, it was honestly moreso a concern that Ariana was certain she wanted this decision, that she wouldn't harbor a degree of heartbreak or regret later on. So, he took a breath, and he broke script. He walked over to her. A set of hands settled upon Ariana's shoulders, fingers encompassing their sides. Whereas she was short, he was tall, 6'2 to her 5'0. Even with her trademark topknot ponytail he was still a good foot in height above. Male to her female. Average, slightly thick, slightly muscled, to her more lithe, lolita-like girlish frame. Early forties to her early twenties. Even his clothes were in stark contrast, his shirt, visible as he stood behind her, a deep burgundy-colored silk as opposed to her all-white. They both had brown hair, but beyond that it was a cute moment of juxtaposes, the visual of him standing behind her like that. Jeffrey leaned down, just over her ponytail, and placed a slow, firm kiss to the top of Ariana's head. Against her tightly-pulled brown hair he whispered, Look at you, Little Miss Talented...you've got them eating out of your palm. He smiled. He took a breath though, just in case this length of pause was something more than 'part of the act,' searching for words of encouragement. I've only ever seen you on TV. So gentle-hearted. So humble, despite all you bring to the table. Despite all your success. Yet look at this here. I can't even look straight forward, all the flashes - they can't get enough of you. This is your moment, right now. Do with it whatever will make you happiest, no matter what that is. You have my full support. His palms smoothed up and down her shoulders and upper arms. His lips and nose stayed against the top of her head, where he just closed his blue eyes a moment, taking in her scent. When you are ready, talk about why you decided to be here today. Talk a little about your charity, too. You own the stage we'll take it at your pace. There was another simple kiss to the top of Ariana's head, and another comforting squeeze of his fingers around the tops of her arms. Then they let go, and his presence backed offthough not without somehow managing a brief, private pat of her backside, due to the angle of being immediately behind her. As promised, the moment was hers. Jeffrey stepped backed, and he stepped to the side, back toward the clear podium and a bit behind it, allowing the silken songstress to once again be the sole focus of the room.