Thread: Paradise Isle  (Fades & Good Girls)

...Spectacular. Breathtaking. Everything about her was elegance and grace, was poise and well-mannered. Jeffrey watched Emilia's moment as taken as the rest of the crowd, giving no effort to hide a cheek-to-cheek smile. It was no random choice, having her go first, having Emilia be his very first official slave. While it was true that each of the women here today would be able to lay claim to such a thing, her claim would be the truest, as there had simply been a feeling about her that she would set the standard for what he wanted this to be, and the caliber of respect - and applicants - he wanted it to garner. In short, she hadn't disappointed. He watched calm, quiet, but in no way made move to hide the approval beaming upon his face. Whereas the elegant Brit harbored a light smirk and an even gentler caress of red across her features, Jeffrey allowed a grin to stretch more notably at one side of his face in an almost trademarked fashion. He watched, quite surreally, as a kid on Christmas morning, as the Christmas present unwrapped itself , strode about, and proclaimed quite definitively that her new purpose was solely to be his toy. This certainly beat a model train set. As she came to stand beside him, beside the podium, Jeffrey looked deeply into her blue eyes. He held the gaze while Emilia spoke, while she proclaimed for everyone to hear, but mostly now proclaimed herself to him. He kept eye contact as she shifted to remove her shoes. He kept eye contact as she discarded of the outfit entirely, the noise of which making its own audible statement, that such was behind her. He kept eye contact even as a grin teased at the edge of her lips, which, looking to her like this, in this moment, just that tease of a smirk caused a new surge of warmth in the pit of his chest. He let her speak, and, when she was done, allowed the moment to linger. Cameras continued to snap. Flashes continued going off. He stepped aside from the podium, and then another, stepping in close to her. With the loss of her heels their heights were even more defined. But still he leaned in, not breaking gaze with the brunette until he had to, not breaking gaze until this moment, where he leaned in, slipped the fingers of one hand into her smaller, more slender, gave them an affectionate squeeze, and he kissed Emilia, right outside the edge of her lips, right at that corner where it tugged endearingly into her cheek. And then he whispered, something quiet, something private. Something just for them. Magnificent, he breathed. You are truly stunning, my darling. Another tender peck to what was technically her cheek. His lips rose after that, his words still coming privately, face nuzzled into that beautiful brunette hair from just beside her ear. ...For what it's worth, I loved your performances in those movies. If the world is too short-sighted to cherish you, then worry not over them, for that is my role now. Jeffrey gave her hand another light, little squeeze, before letting go, his touch slipping away. He stepped back. Oh, and worry not on your worth, he said with a smirk, his voice not loud per se, but not as private as before. The first two rows or so might have heard it. With a wink, To me, that part was never in question. He stepped back a bit more. At the back of the stage were four large, black sheets, the closest one of which he stepped to now. Keeping eye contact directly with Emilia, he grasped the sheet with both hands, lifting it up, overhead with a flourish and a twirl, discarding it deftly off to a side as lights and cameras quickly continued on. The reveal was another, smaller podium, black velvet draped along its cylinder, with a black stand behind it. Upon the black stand was an oversized check, a sum of two-hundred and sixty-three million dollars made out to the Anima Foundation, the sum of her net worth being added to the amount an A-Lister would garner for embracing this bold offer. ' On behalf of Miss Emilia Clarke ' was elegantly written in the Notes section of the check. In front of it, back on the circular stand of flowing black velvet, was the lofty presence of the contract, the details of which had been made public, and had already been thoroughly made clear to each volunteer here today. The contract itself was just as much a showpiece as anything else here on the set, made out more like a medieval scroll rather than a more modern stack of papers, complete with curled ends, and a long, feathered quill set beside. He stepped back to Emilia, and once again that was in a light voice that perhaps only the first row or two would pick up on, Forget the crowd, he spoke. A hand went back to hers, this time only loosely claiming two fingers betwixt a few of his own in what was a brief, light hold before letting go again. For this moment, take as much time as you need. When you are done, kneel front-and-center on the stage, facing off to the side. For what would come then was the final part of this 'presentation,' this 'ceremony' that had been made clear to each of the girls beforehand, just as the particulars of the contract had been. ...It was to be a sizzling period , at the end of the sentence that was Emilia's offer of servitude, which would serve as a bold, surprise finish to all others in attendance, truly driving home the day's permanence.