Thread: The Manor (Mr. Quixotic & Malicious Lullaby)

No expense had been spared by Hawthorne Tisch in his restoration of the Manor. It had taken almost every last penny of the funds acquired from his Father's Estate, but had been worth it. As Tisch entered the grandiose ball-room the illumination provided by the ornate chandeliers dim enough to add to the mysterious atmosphere, but bright enough to make out the marble, faux roman columns, mahogany paneled walls, and men and women attired in their finest, being entertained by a string quartet placed upon a stage in the far corner he knew the cost would be returned a hundred-fold. Word had already spread, and the gathering this night appeared as if it would exceed all others. At 5,000 a pop, plus whatever they spent on the ladies, the men in their tuxedo's and masks could have acquired whatever it was they desired at a much lower price. However, that wasn't the point Hawthorne intended these events to be a matter of prestige and status, where those with the wealth and power would eventually be unable to consider not attending. Every luxury was at their disposal, and the ladies the most beautiful that money could buy. Hawthorne reaped a profit of 3.000 on each one. Anonymous as owner and host, he worked the crowd. A hello there, a brief chat here, a longer one there, Hawthorne Tisch subtlety spoke to each man not otherwise occupied to ensure they were content. He didn't pry that was the whole point of the exercise but was well aware each had their own priorities. Some were there simply to talk, and to enjoy the attention and flattery they received some came explicitly to take advantage of the ladies on offer, and wasted no time in making use of one of the lavishly decorated and themed rooms, sound-proofed for privacy, which lined the exterior hallways. Yet others enjoyed the company of many a lady, dancing, flirting and drinking, before retiring to those very same rooms in the wee hours. Hawthorne didn't forget the women either he paused to speak to as many as he could on his journey around the room a glass of champagne with one, a chat and laugh with another, a flirtatious touch or conversation, and a dance or two. The rules were clear set by him and the escort agency, and articulated to the men who attended. A girl was free to provide any service she liked, at a price she set, however was not to be co-erced or forced to partake in anything she was not comfortable with. Any man who attempted to do so would be immediately identified, ejected and requested never to return. Hawthorne Tisch had a list of those men and their transgressions stored on his laptop hard-drive, however not for the reasons most would have suspected. Three glasses of bubbly consumed, and throat dry from talking, Hawthorne required a moment of peace and contemplation. His eyes scanned the room, working from left to right, until the entire space was covered, then drifted back to the bar at one wall, and the woman in a black dress. She was requesting her own drink, and unaccompanied by a man as far as he could see, which was unusual. With her back turned to him, the man's eyes moved down her form to appreciate the curves, and manner in which the garment displayed her body. Although Hawthorne did not usually avail himself of the girl's services these nights kept him busy, and the Madame was not averse to providing him one at no cost when he required his own needs met, in appreciation of his business there were exceptions to the rule, and he soon found himself slipping in beside her. Scotch on the rocks, please. Hawthorne nodded to the attendant, and waited for the drink to be served, before he turned to face the woman. His gaze briefly found her face, then as he lifted his glass to his lips, he slowly and deliberately appraised her body. The fiery liquid swirled in his mouth as he lingered on her breasts, then moved lower to take in her waist, hips, and legs. Hawthorne Tisch made no absolutely no effort to hide the fact that he was undressing this stranger with his eyes - an action which normally would have earned a slap in the face, or a harsh word, but one almost expected in this environment -, or the smile under the mask as, after a further fifteen seconds of silent appraisal, his attention returned to her face. Or what could be seen of it. Lovely, very lovely indeed. May I ask your name? His green orbs crinkled, and he extended a hand for her to take. At least the one you're using tonight. You can call me Robert.