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

The bar area was not crowded, but not empty either. Surrounding it were mostly couples, men and women in intimate conversation, drinks in hand, palms on thighs and lips next to ears, but here and there men grouped together. The similarity in dress, and masks they wore, caused one to be barely distinguishable from the next, however some had recognised each other by voice alone, and these men discussed business the accoutrements on their arms treated as if they didn't exist, there only to look pretty, and speak when spoken to. Until it was time to put them to use. Didn't they realise the young ladies profession had no bearing on their intelligence, or ability to comprehend the conversation? Hawthorne shook his head at the naivety of these rich, powerful men unthinkingly revealing confidential information, and possibly placing themselves in a position which could be taken advantage of. An advantage Hawthorne himself would have no problems utilising if the opportunity arose. Those thoughts had still been in his mind as the liquor made its way down his throat, and brought a pleasant warmth to his body. Not quite as the pleasant as the sight in front of him, however, and as he extended his hand, Tisch was curious as to why she remained unaccompanied. Her eyes were such a beautiful hazel green. An eyebrow arched as she responded. It remained arched as he sipped his Scotch, and followed her gaze to the far side of the room. A man and a woman were headed towards the exit, and presumably to one of the private rooms, but he noted nothing which may have drawn her particular attention. What was obvious was Izabel's nervousness, apparent even before stated, and the woman's admission that this was her first time struck a discordant note. The Madame had explicit instructions only the finest ladies were to be provided, those experienced in the desires of men, not easily shocked or embarrassed, and definitely not shy. In Hawthorne's mind that precluded first-timers, and the confident and forward nature of the women who attended was one of the very reasons he rarely took them up on their offers. Not because they weren't attractive or physically arousing they were but apparently unlike the other men, he found their flattery and attentions to be fake, no matter with how much apparent sincerity they were issued. The women were professionals, and only did it for the money. Whilst they may have satiated his physical needs, he could do that with his own hand, and not be required to part with a few thousand dollars for the pleasure. Only occasionally did his desires grow so strong that he required the services of one of the Madame's employees, and the girls he requested were of a different variety than the ones who frequented these events. Hawthorne Tisch didn't look for love, or an emotionally deep connection, however he did enjoy a challenge. The women in front of him was different, and piqued his curiosity. His lips pursed, and he placed his now empty scotch glass on the bar when her hand finally clasped his, and gently squeezed her fingers. Your first night? He repeated her words, and shifted his body so that his knee brushed her leg. I'm sure the Madame has advised you the expectations? Intuition had begun to tell Hawthorne that it was possible this woman didn't work for the Madame at all, and his gaze shifted briefly to where hers had been drawn to a few seconds before, then returned to Izabel. However, let me reiterate. He closed the distance further between them, and the hand which had held his glass came to rest on her hip. You're expected to entertain the men a casual conversation, flirtation and attention. Laugh at their jokes, even when they're not funny, a touch of the arm, or thigh. A dance or two, and a kiss. Anything else which may be allowed to occur is up for you to decide. Of course, there are certain presumptions for what those decisions should be, and varying consequences depending on the ones you eventually make. Either you'll be extremely generously compensated for your time, and your presence welcomed at future events, or you'll leave with a couple of thousand dollars, and not be extended a return invitation. The man's tone was courteous and friendly an explanation rather than any attempt at intimidation. So now you know Izabel, why don't you tell me, what brought you here, and what are your expectations? Hawthorne's tone changed, his voice slowly lowered to a whisper, and he inclined his head, until with the last word barely audible, his lips brushed hers with the faintest of touches, and nails lightly scraped skin through fabric. It's possible, as the night goes on, that we may exceed them. He held that pose for a few moments, then suddenly pulled away, lifted two fingers to the bar attendant and requested fresh drinks. Hawthorne's eyes glittered with amusement when he shifted his attention back to Izabel, and completed his sentence. Or we may not.