Thread: Write Me a Story (SomethingEsoteric & Bimbo_a_la_Blonde)

Unassuming was really the best way to describe it in this very moment, not quite to what most expected, not quite to her surroundings, maybe not the first impression an eccentric like herself would go after but in reality maybe that was what was eccentric about it? Long lips pulled to an even longer look of rueful doubt in the mirror as she squinted back at herself Clarissa Novan Mistress to the stars in a pair of jeans and a blouse just didnt quite... well, even if her reputation was one that by definition defeated itself she was never one to admit defeat and certainly not much for meeting new people dressed so lowly especially when it was business, especially considering her very business was in fact pleasure. Was pleasure, that was in particular a very surreal one. In any event, just as surreal was her outfit, and not because she didnt wear jeans and button ups and hoodies and yoga pants and whatever else was comfortable and casual, it wasnt all lace and bodices, not every outfit she owned included lingerie and leather, only when she imagined herself musing of her high life and all the lows that came with it she imagined shed be doing so in something a little more extravagant maybe even from a long leather slab of a couch with clawed feet, a glass of shiraz and one of those fancy cigarette holders Cruella De Vil had, graceful blue-white rings of indulgence lazily curling toward the ceiling of a fire lit study now that would have been extravagant, would have been eccentric, would have been everything her character was, not who she was and Brooklyn, her ever doting agent whom she trusted in the utmost had told her just be yourself. like her mother maybe should have many time in her youth. Carissa huffed and scrunched her nose, reaching toward her desk to find a thick rimmed pair of reading glasses, pulling her long auburn hair into a messy pony tail, flaring the collar of her blouse and with a small jiggle of her wrist undoing the top few buttons of her shirt, enough to tease with the edges of her rather luxurious lace bra well, maybe every one of her outfits had at least of a little of what might just could be considered lingerie , she didnt think she owned one piece of underwear or a single undergarment that couldnt in some frame of mind be considered extravagant after all and the particular matching bra and panties both her round plumped behind and chest were embraced by were no exception. A little sex appeal never hurt, especially not in her experience well, unless they wanted it to hurt. Ms. Novan, shell be arriving soon I suggest you stop primping Brooklyn said in a low cool voice more a chide than anything before rolling her eyes Youre not nervous are you? Nervous? Clarissa asked her features turning coyly to meet Brooklyns Not in my range of emotion Im inclined to assure you, she responded evenly, though a deep shaky breath discounted the rehearsed words. Clare, shes not a reporter or a tabloid, shes writing your book if you want people to like it youre going to have to let them in at least a little bit. now Brooklyns wedges clicked with each step as she closed the gap between them and peered closely upon each ruffle of the blouse, the cuffs pulled up to her elbows so messily. I swear youre hopeless, you could have at least asked me to get this ironed The overburdened agent or assistant more like huffed pulling the sleeves back down to her wrist and popping them, only to fold them back up passed her elbows with neat precision, going on to pull a few straggling strands of hair out of the messy pony tail to frame her face. There, now you look a little more like yourself. The woman paused and grinned ruefully, well, kinda. All she could do was chuckle and roll her eyes, brushing passed Brooklyn and toward the door toward a spiral staircase that led to her foyer and what would be the door her writer would soon be found knocking on. Clarissas home was bold, brazen and beautiful with a certain refinement that was ageless much like herself, though refurbished and modernized Victorian in actual conception unlike herself. The home in many ways a reflection of personality and taste Clarissa possessed though not exactly a true reflection of who she was Is she late, or am I early? Brooklyn rolled her eyes and tilted her head seeing a blur in the stain glass finery around Clarissas front door, Looks like youre both just in time. She said as she gestured toward to door for Clare to greet her guest pulling it open for her. Why hello, -a pleasure to make your acquaintance. please, do come in. she crooned her eyes narrowing slightly as the appraisal began.