Thread: The Arrangement (Translucentfeathers & Father Figure)

An escape, that was what a place like this offered, a venue like this provided. It was a safe haven for the misfits who were secretly slaves to their own dark passions and hidden desires, wants that were otherwise deemed deviant and peculiar by the broader populace. This was no house of horrors as the general public might color it, rather a place of release for those who were searching so desperately for it. It was how Claire had come to find herself there, slipping through the crowd with a drink from the bar in hand. The venue had been nothing like what she had expected, the cliche and tired, though classic, use of plush fabrics mixed with a color palette of blood red and black were no where to be found. Rather this venue seemed to pride itself on the modern decor, stone tile flooring, polished metal catching every flicker of the sweeping deep blue and vibrant green lighting. The bar was at the far corner to the right with a large dance floor at the center to provide people with an area to mingle and become better acquainted while allowing some tame voyeurism to set the mood. There were several booths offering seating along the far wall, as well as space of seclusion with some having black privacy curtains that could be pulled shut to cut the outside world off. Of course, the long hall in the back offered a larger array of settings for people to choose from, multiple rooms all furnished to one extent or the other, some simply devoted for audience and multiple parties to enjoy the company of many participants while others allowed complete seclusion with one's partner and the equipment and furnishings to allow completely private scenes. Claire distanced herself from the dance floor, leaning quietly against a pillar that was partially shadowed as she merely observed. It was her first night, one that she had been anticipating and planning carefully for. A pale, delicate hand rose to smooth a few rust colored tresses from her face, eyes catching sight of the little plastic band that had been wrapped around her wrist when she first arrived. The pale blue coloring marked her as a submissive a label she chose from the handful of interactions she had thus far. Dark red of course indicated a dominant while vibrant purples suggested the bearer as a switch. It helped to decrease confusion and was meant as an invitation to others of what your preferences were, a way to break the ice in at least that respect right off the bat. Claire let her hand fall back to her side as she raised the cool glass to her lips again, sipping her ice water quietly, wondering back on how she had come to find herself here. Years of sexual frustration, needs that had gone unmet, had led up to the moment where she walked through that front entrance. For the longest time Claire had felt wrong, off, her entire life just a series of scrambling desperately for more than she felt she could hope to gain, only ever merely scratching the surface of what she felt she needed. She had grown up under suffocating guidance in an unforgiving environment, one filled with expectations, limitations and demands that all tried to twist and conform her into a neat and tidy box to be categorized away as perfectly normal. Since she was young she always bucked the stipulations placed on her life, shoving at the attempts when others attempted to force her into what they deemed was best. Of course, she was risking everything coming here tonight. Claire let out a low sigh as she continued to sip her drink, pushing aside the small vein of fear she had of being caught, of getting found out, knowing in some twisted sense it only added to the excitement. That the fear heightened the bit of rush she got just by being here. The energy of this place was infectious and while she was content to stay where she was and continue to feel the place out, she couldn't help but get a little caught up in the vibe of passion and want that seemed to envelope the entire large space. The music was heavy enough that it made her chest almost vibrate with the bass tones, stealing her breath whenever the beat would drop and allow the dancing to pick up a faster pace. Claire was tempted for a moment to go against her reservations and join the people on the dance floor before she shook her head as she turned and slipped back to the bar for another drink. While a relief to have finally worked up the courage to come here she felt aggravated that she had come all this way to merely be a spectator. Not that there hadn't been a few offers from several other patrons, a couple of men, one switch and one dominant, another set was a couple looking for a third party. None had peaked her interest though and she turned them each down simply not...feeling anything at their attempted advances, their soft approaches. Though it was hardly surprising she found herself so untouched by those around her. It often felt as though Claire had built up a wall around herself to keep from slipping while simultaneously keeping herself in check. Claire wasn't sure where to begin or even how to crack through that wall. She felt at a loss as to how she could discard the carefully constructed mask of her own design that had become fixated to her own face. Hopping up onto a barstool, Claire caught the attention of the bartender to get a refill as she crossed her legs at the ankles, and took a moment to look down and over herself. The black, form-fitting dress she wore was made of soft material, stretching over every curve of her body long sleeves slipped all the way down to her wrists and threatened to over take her palms if given the opportunity. And though the neckline was relatively high, it dipped in the back offering a flash of smooth pale skin though it was slightly hidden, teasing flashes peeking out from underneath the wild mess of waves and untameable curls her red hair became at the end of each day. The dress was by no means anything overly revealing, the skirt line resting at her mid thigh while her feet were clad with a pair of black heels that added a few inches to her slight five foot four frame. There were several piercings that graced her ears, including crossing industrial bars that her hair normally hid, along with a piercing at her navel while a tattoo of scroll line work decorated the pale akin of one of her hip bones. Such attire, the form-fitting clothing, ink and jewelry weren't permitted at the University she attended and it felt like a relief to finally be able to go out without restrictions. Her green eyes returned to their previous activity of flitting over the crowd as she traced a long finger around the rim of her glass, the other hand tangling up in her hair as a nervous habit, pushing it back and out of the way while she simply watched.