2014.05.01 - The Red Princess

Oh Dashwood Hall. Emma, and many of the other members of the Hellfire Club, it was a home away from home. For a weekday night the club was still full to the brim with rich old businessmen, politicians wanting to get away from the camera for a few hours, and everything in between and then some.
One of which was Emma Frost, secret White Queen of the inner circle. But to most within the club's halls, she's just Emma. The billionaire business woman with a penchant for white (and doesn't shy away from the corset, panties, and cape look for the big parties). Needless to say she remains popular.
However for this evening, she sported a tight knee-length white latex dress with conveniently placed sheer panels, worn with her hair pushed to the side and tall blue stilettos. She was conversing with one of the male strippers while sipping a martini. While she enjoyed the attractive man's company, her eyes and mind would wander hoping someone interesting might pop into the club that night.
Looker is always interesting, that's for sure. Princess of Abyssia, talk show hostess with the mostest, former worldwide supermodel in her teens and, of course, one of the only public and open vampires in the world, Lia Briggs gets plenty of attention, always, and wouldn't have it any other way. Her tight costume, bright and colorful and capped with dazzling, glittered and deep cleavage probably risks a few of those old men's pacemakers. She smiles and makes her way around, lightly trailing a black nail across a female stripper's cheek as she passes, then finding her made-up eyes falling upon Emma, "Miss Frost...my goodness, what a treat!" she grins toothily, her fangs, for the moment, retracted.
Oh finally! A person of interest. If she had to talk to another dreadful polititian this evening she would have grabbed a stripper and disappeared into her private room. She smiled in deight and gave Looker a soft kiss on both cheeks, "Such a pleasure to run into you tonight. Come come."
She lead her away towards the back of the club in one of the cushy spreads. Mentally, she shooed away whoever was presently sitting there, "Our turn! Do tell me how have you been darling?"
Looker rather enjoys getting the VIP treatment, tossing some looks over her shoulder and waggling fingers at those jealous of Emma's attention on her. She could sense it, after all, but their venomous thoughts only made her pleasure all the more. She takes a seat opposite the luscious and luxurious Miss Frost, crossing her legs.
"Oh, you know, busy, as usual. The show's been booked solid for weeks, and I'm trying to keep my agency in hand at the same time. Ugh, I had that purple cat boy come in and bitch at me 'cause I don't hire freaks and fatties to model. Um, the job is being hot, fool," she says, rolling her eyes. "What about you? You still look like you could cut a bitch with an eyelash," she grins.
Emma's mouth curled into a very small smile as she played with the olives in her glass, "Mm. I'll assume you mean Vorpal? He happens to be one of my students at the Academy of Tomorrow. And a superhero. Tisk tisk."
She crossed her legs as an idea sprung to mind, "But that brings us to an important subject, now this is strictly academic and nothing leaves these walls (you know the rules). But being an open vampire, what are your thoughts in bringing more openly mutant, aliens, and otherwise into the fashion world? Trust me, I've seen some faces that could /kill/ editorially."
Looker blushes a bit, putting her hand over her mouth, "Oh, well...yes, Vorpal. I had hired him for modelling some time ago, but things...well, they just didn't work out. But he misunderstands me. I'm absolutely open to hiring different looks, different aesthetics...mutant, alien, what have you...but I have to be able to sell them. Editors are conservative. I can barely get them to hire black girls sometimes, the old skanks, much less with purple fur. I'm not unwilling to try, but, at the same time, I need to be realistic, especially until my agency is actually in enough of a position to have leverage," she sighs in exasperation.
"I may also have been in a bad mood and called him some rather...well, I was in a bad mood. My temper isn't always as pretty as the rest of me," she smiles.
Emma chuckled softly, and brought her eyes back to Looker. Even without digging into her mind, she decides that was a good enough answer. She did know enough in the fashion world. If girls alone didn't have a thigh gap, they could forget runway modeling. "You /are/ quite right. The dolts, fashion...as much as I love it, doesn't necessarily have a mind for the future. What's going to be popular tomorrow or revolutionary."
She smiled warmly at her and gently touched her thigh, "Don't fret dear, many of my students are little trouble makers. For instance, I had some /darling/ fashionistas who have sadly abandoned it for yoga pants and no makeup. And we all can have our bad days, dear."
Looker shivers at the thought of yoga pants...or maybe it's just the hand on her thigh. "It was worse when I was young. I mean, seriously, the old photographers then practically expected...well, let's just say I knew girls who kept kneepads with them, so as not to accidentally bruise their legs before runway..." she murmurs.
"I honestly think it's going to take metahuman ownership and power to provide that leverage. I'm rich, but not that rich...yet," she giggles. "Unless you wanna loan me forty or fifty million? I'd make it worth your while." she teases.
Emma retrieves her hand for the moment and takes it to slip one of the olives into her mouth. While she didn't exactly model in her youth, she remembered dark days of her own. Her eyes did wander towards the stage as she looked lost in thought for a few moments, "Mm. Yes, indeed. We do have brighter days today, don't we? Could always be better."
She mentally summoned a waitress and had her bring whatever was Looker's regular drink. Once the girl in the French maid dress scurried off, she continued, "Or I could just buy your agency, and then some."
Emma herself was a multi-billionaire, with the Frost International being a major organization and the Academy of Tomorrow alone, plus lucrative investments.
Looker purses her lips, "Mmmmmmmmm, tempting, if only for the sheer value of the investment you'd make. Your name, too, would make quite a splash. You already make quite a one in the tabloids, on occasion...I see you have a taste for redheads," she purrs, although the few stolen pictures had never gotten a good look at Jean's face. "Nothing sells like scandal."
"I admit, though, being my own boss is fairly comfortable. What kind of oversight could I expect if you bought in?"
Emma laughed as she ran her fingers through her hair. Since they were getting onto interesting business proposals and other delightful topics, no one nearby could hear their discussion. They were speaking of shoes or something equally boring. "Mm, yes I do tend to have a sweet spot for redheads. Or walls of muscle with more powerful personalities. And then both."
Emma at some point by now has been seen in the gossip blogs and such being seen with a blurry redhead, Kate Kane, Namor, and several highly known celebrities such as Benedict Cumberbatch. But onto business she considered, "Not terribly too much. Meeting likely once a month to go over things, I'd like an up to date roster on the talent. And on top of all this, I know all sorts in the fashion and the mystical realm of Hollywood. Not a decision to rush on, food for thought."
Looker smiles, "I've always favored blondes myself. Well, or brunettes. Hmmmmmmmmm...redheads arre nice now that you mention it," she smiles, "And everyone likes muscles and power. People who say they don't are liars or idiots, and I don't hang out with either one."
Looker's dance card has often been full as well, but rarely with anyone lasting more than a night or two. Hard to make a commitment when you know you'll live forever. "No, not rushing, but, maybe have one of your business people put together a proposal. I'm not great at the numbers stuff, but Saul, my agent, is faboo at it and he can sort through all the legalese with my lawyers..." she says, "I'm not here for business tonight...well, everything's a little bit business, I guess."
Emma takes out her phone and is texting quickly. "Saul was it? I'll get in contact with him soon with a business proposal. I'm quite comfortable with numbers, very nerdy that way."
She tossed her phone into her purse and returned her attention back to Looker with a wicked grin, "Some days I get more business done in these halls. /Now/ enough of that, other then your job and whatnot do tell me about yourself. Admittedly I haven't met many vampires, at least ones who don't frequently shop in goth stores...save for one potential one. Could never sort out if she was a vampire or an immortal, either way she did love the taste of blood."
Looker grins, "It's an acquired taste, but something about being a vampire makes...everything different. I'd been a superhero before, I'd tasted my own blood a time or two, but now...now its," she says and her eyelids almost flutter for a moment, a low growl in her throat, and then she stifles it, "It's much more...primal than mere hunger. For us, blood is food, water, sex, sleep...all in one...every need, every craving slaked...or, at the very least, pleased. I'm thirstier than most,' she says, and now her fangs do show a bit, her eyes giving a soft glow foro a moment before she dims them.
"Other than that, I mostly do a lot of online shopping. It's hard to find a good boutique with late night hours."
Emma's brow quirked curiously as the topic of hunger and blood had arisen. Lust was her favorite topic and all, and to hear it described so fondly was quite a treat. Emma sipped at her martini as she finished, "Well. The Hellfire club does make sure it's members are well fed, the dancers, waiters and maids are all on the menu of course. Unless you wanted something off the menu, that is..."
She did push aside some of the hair that was touching at the left side of her neck, "...if you promise not to be too naughty about it."
Looker bites her bottom lip and that glow rises again, "Well, I...fed some before I came, so my hunger is...manageable. I shouldn't lose control, as tempting as it might be. I've sampled the regular wares here before and, while they're certainly lovely, if a more...exquisite vintage were available, I certainly couldn't resist partaking." she smiles, eyes flicking briefly to the dancers before returning to the unmatched Miss Frost.
Emma looked to one of the guards in the club, who came over to close the curtains in their VIP area to separate them from the rest of the club. The music and the noises from the room could still be heard, but it gave a better sorted position for privacy. "Well that settles that then, if you are on your best behavior."
She placed aside her drink and moved to sit next to her, her head tilted to the side, "Then have a taste."
Looker gives a soft purr in her throat at Emma's new proximity, the lust she feels not entirely for blood alone. But when that porcelain neck is presented, her fangs fully extending with a soft, wet sound, "I promise, I shall be...absolutely careful," she says, her body almost trembling in anticipation.
One hand reaches around to cup the other side of Emma's neck and, as she can easily feel, Lia begins to generate a low psionic pulse, a telepathic harmonic tuned to the key of seduction, pleasure, surrender, so that, when fang pierces skin, it feels almost like an entirely different kind of penetration. Perhaps even better.
Emma lets out a soft, but husky moan as her teeth penetrate through the surface, it was indeed unlike any other sensation she had felt before. A bit of pain mixed with pleasure, and immensely intimate, quite different than anything experienced via S&M within these walls.
Within the confines of their minds, Lia is brought to a wave of memories of Emma's. A very scrawny Emma is seen, giving the telepathic illusion of being quite beautiful and dancing the stage of the Hellfire Club, hoping she might have enough for rent or to eat for the next few weeks. In desperation, her dignity is lowered as she succumbs to the benefits of prostitution within the walls knowing one day, with enough saved she could change the world.
With the added nostalgia of memory, Looker sees Sebastian Shaw, a bright and shining leader taking to Emma and pushing her towards the right path, transforming her life forever.
Looker shivers intensely at the mingled flood of emotion and blood. The memories carry fear, degradation, lust, excitement, ambition. So many have such dull, empty lives, but Emma's existence, even in its darkest moments, has a richness rare to be found in mortal blood. Lia's nails dig softly into that slender neck, not breaking skin, but making small marks, and her tongue works at the spot of her fangs piercing, finally taking force of will to push herself away with an almost whining gasp, "Gahhhhhhhhh...ahhhhhhhhh...my god..." she pants, blood rrunning down her chin, spattering into her cleavage...
With the nature of the both of them being telepaths, Emma mutually 'saw' what Looker experienced. Memories she's known well, but ones she doesn't share with others so freely. Well, to say the least Emma does understand the depths a person can sink to in order to achieve one's goals. A Wicked grin was spread across her lips as Lia pulled away, "Mistress is preferred, but goddess is good too."
She leaned forward to lick off her own blood from Looker's cleavage, "Wouldn't want any of that to go to waste now do we?"
Looker brings her hand up instinctively as that tongue glides across her breasts, strawberry scented underneath the coppery warmth of the blood. "Goddess sounds about right to me," she shudders, toes curling in her heeled boots. The hand cups the back of Emma's head, not pushing her in, but cradling, encouraging as she looks down at the Mistress of the White, "While you're down there...the zipper's right below your lips..." she murmurs.
Emma brought her teeth to the zipper, and brought it down three inches as it exposed much more cleavage. She planted a hand just next to Looker on the chair behind her as she raised her face to be level with hers, and remained close. "You talk about changing tomorrow. If you truly mean it..."
Emma brought her teeth to the zipper, and brought it down three inches as it exposed much more cleavage. She planted a hand just next to Looker on the chair behind her as she raised her face to be level with hers, and remained close. "You talk about changing tomorrow. If you truly mean it..." r Mentally Looker hear's Emma's voice whisper, |"If your heart is believes in revolution, then you can hear the engine roar. Do you, Lia?"| r rThe name hadn't been spoken, but Emma yanked it from her mind.entally Looker hear's Emma's voice whisper, |"If your heart is believes in revolution, then you can hear the engine roar. Do you, Lia?"|
The name hadn't been spoken, but Emma yanked it from her mind.
Looker shivers softly, eyes wide, <<I hear.>>, she answers. She doesn't need to breathe, so there's no panting, her skin remaining cool except where the White Queen's blood runs through her veins, adding a blush to the exposed skin. Her eyes are glowing softly, a white smoke seeming to rise from them as she feels the superior grip of Emma's psyche against her own, <<Help me understand what it says.>>
Emma is all confidence, rarely she isn't. And around someone like a vampire at least of sorts she really should be. She ran her long, sharp and blue painted thumbnail along her skin, |"It says this world is corrupt, revelation is the only answer it's saying...it wants you."|
She leaned in to whisper into her ear, her lips brushing against her ear, "They say nothing lasts forever, but darling, Hellfire does."
She reached a hand up the side of her waist, "Not this tawdry little club, but everything it means. 'As you harm none' is the whole of our law. Are you in?"
Looker shivers softly, that tantaling brush of nail making her arch her back softly. Her red hair is tousled, her make-up heavy as it makes a faux-mask around her eyes. No need for a real one with no secret identity. She's tried so long to hold on to who she was, before, that mortal girl who played nice and tried to be a hero. And they laughed at her and called her silly and dismissed her.
What Emma offered was real. Serious. Made her feel alive, "Yessssssss..." she hisses.
Emma knew entirely what it meant to be underestimated. To be a woman, even a gorgeous woman after a certain age meant she didn't have brains. She showed them, all of them. Just like she would help this lovely woman.
She whispered into her ear again, "Then welcome to the inner circle, my Red Princess. Tell me, do you think you'd look good in a red corset and panties? Latex or leather, with maybe a bit of wolf fur for the cape? You are a wolf after all."
She stood, and held out a hand to Looker, "Come, we'll finish this discussion in my bedroom upstairs with a proper nightcap."
Looker hisses low in her throat, tongue flicking over her ivory fangs. Tonight had been intended as just another night, a bit of fun, swinging by for decadence sake and a little showing off. At the description of the costume, she says throatily, "I think that sounds...magnificent. Although, I admit, I don't normally wear panties," she smiles.
She takes the hand and, as she rises, drags a still bloody tongue across Emma's knuckles, leaving a smear of crimson as she reaches her feet, "Yes, let us...talk more," she smiles.
Category:Log