Thread: Four Letters (Ariamella and Dane Stalling)

I'll bet you love winning, Marisa replied, gazing at Cameron from under her lashes. You just love being on top, don't you. The words came out more as a statement than a question, but that was exactly how she intended it. She fell into the flirty back-and-forth with Cameron, surprised at how easy it was despite having only known him for a grand total of thirty minutes. He was wearing his signature smile, that stupid little grin that came out to play whenever he thought he was being smooth, and Marisa returned it with one of her own sly smirks. She could tell that the man in front of her was used to getting his way, especially with the women who entered his life, and she didn't plan on being just another girl who became flustered at playing his game. Not that his charm wasn't working on her, because it totally was, but she didn't believe in giving in. Not until the last minute, at least. It wasn't something she would admit to Cameron, but she had to hand it to him-- whether it was natural or learned from years of practice somehow she had the feeling he was trying his luck with women even in adolescence, he was good, and she was impressed. Like Nate Hands Man, as Cameron called him, most men were intimidated by her, unable to take her home, much less buy her a drink at the bar. She loved men who were like her ambitious, passionate, confident, and a little bit vain. It made for an alluring mixture, one that she found particularly intoxicating. Oh, I wouldn't say that I'm never out of control. Even I take off my bra at times. Marisa smiled innocently and dabbed a napkin at her red-stained lips, raising her glass and pausing to look at the amber liquid before taking a sip. She was toying with him, and he with her, engaged in an intricate dance of wit and wordplay. Then the young woman leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, offering up more of the cleavage that Cameron seemed to like so well. And sometimes I like when someone else takes it off for me. This, of course, didn't necessarily mean she got off on being out of control, but getting men to think she liked giving up control always ensured that she actually stayed in control. It worked most of the time, at least. She straightened her posture, pleased with herself, and the table fell into a comfortable silence as she resumed eating her turkey dip, enjoying it how Cameron advised her to, and keeping her eyes on the men and women who entered the bar. It was only 730 or so, but it was evident that it was a Monday. Even Marisa knew what it was like to want to remove the stress from the beginning of the weekhell, even in her interning days, she knew what it was like to want to pre-game the alcohol Sunday night at the mere thought of waking up to Monday. Men and women alike were at bars to start the week off happy, and like Cameron said, most of them chose drinking, sex or both. Whatever, she wasn't judging. Stress relief was stress relief, whether that came as a tipsy haze or euphoric ecstasy. A man caught her eye then, a guy probably somewhere in his mid-40s, and she watched in amusement as he approached a young brunette who was laughing animatedly with her friends, giggling amongst themselves and whispering things here and there in each others' ears. The girl herself was pretty enough long, dark waves hung down to mid-back and framed a delicate face with doe-like blue eyes. Looking at her, Marisa could see why the man chose her over all the others. She gave off an air of innocence and approachability, someone who could be swayed by pretty words and a charming smile. The journalist raised an eyebrow as the guy went in for the kill, touching the brunette's arm and shooting her a friendly grin. He was sexy in his own way, obviously fit and dressed well. He looked like he belonged in James Walker's posse, if not for the fact that, in Marisa's mind, Walker himself was on an entirely different level. The young woman seemingly rejected the offer, shifting her eyes nervously to her friends. Maybe he was too old for her? But The arch of Marisa's eyebrow rose even higher when the man persisted, this time clearly offering to buy her drink by slyly flashing his card in hand. This time the girl perked up, and Marisa almost laughedmoney always talked, especially when the card was black. Ah, there it is, she said, the one condition you forgot. The girls who are all about obscene amounts of money in the bank. But hey, at least the girl has taste. She laughed, then brought the half-empty beer glass to her lips for a final time to take one last sip. Her friends are eyeing you, Cameron. One of them looks like she could eat you up, right here, right now. She nodded over to the general direction of the group of young women, one of which clearly had her sights set and looked ready to aim. Marisa dug an elastic band out of her bag to tie her hair to the side, then she lightly pushed her glass away, feeling a constant, low heat on her cheeks and neck. She wasn't drunk at all, but she knew her limits. The girl could hold a lot of things, and liquor wasn't one of them.