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| Everything must go; Wanna get high? (Open) | |
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| Topic Started: Saturday, 15. February 2014, 04:06 (1,728 Views) | |
| Church | Saturday, 22. February 2014, 14:29 Post #21 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Girl is a little predictable by seems of things, or maybe when it comes to dealing I know my clientele that damned well. I know the kind of people there are in this world; who they are and what they do. The fact that they are happy or wealthy or good looking or whatever the fuck don't matter none, hell, they're usually the ones who are the worst kind of junkie. What's this chicks story, huh? Killed mommy and daddy for the family fortune? Or maybe cause daddy wouldn't let her sleep through a night alone and mommy, well, she never helped. Where do I get these strange thoughts from? Considering my complete lack of a normal mortal life, I'm sure confident in my viewing on how they operate. Something about this chick, as she takes a drag I get the briefest flash of her face in the light of the cherry flaring. She's dolled up to the extent that I don't know if she's hiding signs of fatigue or just ready to party. She struck me as the latter, cause again no signs of withdrawal or desperation. The fact that she's so giggly and pleasant with her sweet British accent, her confidence and attitude to the whole thing seems strange. Seemingly so unburdened and sure about herself despite her potentially dangerous situation. I could be police, or worse, a lunatic rapist, or worse, a monster. Worse? A hungry monster. Oops. Difference between this chick and CJ is she ain't been stabbed. Ain't given me much reason to be sympathetic. And is it me or is she being a tease right now? She's giving me...something. Almost making me wanna do the right thing here and not let her destroy herself completely. Maybe just a healthy amount of illegal substances...maybe after "Ecstasy ain't a problem, figured that's what you'd want. You look like the kinda girl who likes to let loose till dawn, n' make some lucky fella's wishes come true. Yeah...I got a boatload of them down here." I grin as I place the joint in the corner of my lips again before my hands unclasp the case once more. I don't get off it yet though."But, far be it from me to have a conscious 'n all, but...you don't want the Meth. Seems a real shame darling. A damn shame what it'll do to you physically; Scabs and sores, you'll age 20 years in two - you're too damn cute for any of that. Never mind the mind fuck. Your body n' all but...damn that'd be a shame." Did I mention it would be a shame? Underneath the makeup I feel like she's barely old enough to drink. It's way, waaay to young to get hooked on something so dark and fucking lethal. I don't know what she's all about, but I know she's fucking gorgeous, and to lose that so young would be a...shame. A crime! There we go. I mean, E is fair enough right? Worst that can do is, well, randomly kill yah. I stand up off the box, surprised that I'm not particularly towering over her despite the fact that I probably outweigh her by a 100lbs. Or did when I was full of functioning organs. Even if I am confused, by that along with the rest of her, lord knows I wanna hook her up. Get her to come back again. She literally looks good enough to eat...and I eat people so, y'know. Could turn into a meal on wheels? "Why don't you come take a ganders at what I got an' decide for yourself. Everything's for sale, an' most this shit you won't find anywhere else." I take a few steps around, making a circle so I'm stood behind the container which I spin unceremoniously to face me before kneeling down and popping it open. I invite her to join me, beckoning her down with a hand gesture "I don't bite, I promise sweetie." Well that's a big fucking lie, but damn if it's less cliché than 'I don't bite unless you want me to.' I manage to hide my humour at the predatory thoughts that race through my head. I may not have actually made any money yet, but I seem to have found a niche in the market for beautiful women. Business is booming! |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Sunday, 23. February 2014, 05:16 Post #22 |
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Who's next?
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Her shoulders shrugged slowly in admittance, he had her nailed. It was weird... she liked it. Her enjoyment of the exchange evident in her matching wide grin. She absolutely was the kind of girl to 'let loose' til dawn (only because dawn was when this Cinderella's magic faded) and make some man (or woman for that matter) happy. She followed his fingers as he popped the latch on the case, noticing the tattoo across them, 'GOOD LUCK.' Was it an homage to Irish roots or a nod to those he unleashed any measure of substances on? This thought could go a lot of places but receded because the lecturing started. Wait there was a ring too? Like that'd stop her! She was a vampire, she didn't have time to care about those dumb wives stuck at home while their men were writhing under her. Caitlyn's brow quirked under the shade of her hood. What kind of pusher actually tries not to sell you something? Isn't the point of being a pusher to push shite on people? Maybe he had some kind of righteous agenda, maybe he was police, maybe he was interested. It could be the awe, she surely wasn't dropping it though. Caitlyn hadn't gotten what she wanted yet. He was convinced she was going to get destroyed by meth. She actually hadn't tried any as a vampire and had used it a handful of times before she got turned. Thankfully, dying broke the inevitable rabid addiction. He almost sounded like a protective uncle, but the kind that would rape you in your sleep. Because it'd be a damn shame to waste her cute body on a couple hits. She tilted her head a bit, her lips still smiled but not quite as eagerly. She had to earnestly fight the eye roll while her head rumbled, 'If only you knew.' Caitlyn was about to acquire drugs after all, and that was what her spunky, little spiritless body was riding on. "You can save the lecture for your niece, lovey. I got off the advice train early for a reason. I'm a big girl, Daddy. I promise!" Not that her pops was giving her any useful advice so much as he grated her nerves every time he opened his mouth. There was that cheeky grin again. Caitlyn didn't like sour moods and though she hated being told what she shouldn't do, she wasn't going to let his well meant advice kill her vibrancy. She had half a mind to see if her pops was still in the house she grew up in, or if he'd lost it to the bank pouring his money down his throat. Would be pretty fucking funny to ride over there and do some shit around the house just to fuck with him. Maybe she could take Em with her, let her in while she hid herself in the shadows and really flip his lid. Caitlyn was still alive to the world, but she doubted he'd even bothered to think about her. It didn't seem like he did, it'd been almost a decade with no contact, she might as well be dead. Finally he stood up off the box that held the goodies. She immediately narrowed her sights to the treasure chest, eyes like a kitten ready to pounce the light it would never catch. Her soft blues went to him as he kept moving though, actually getting a better look at him as he'd gotten slightly closer to her. He wasn't bad looking, not old either. She didn't step back or even bother moving when he did really. She wasn't even seem shocked by his height. But then he went behind the box and spinned it to the other side away from the street. Had he done this with the other girl? She didn't think so. Her thoughts were spiraling, most of them pointed to some kind of trap, the rest were dirty... Caitlyn looked skeptical that's for sure. She was tossing around whether she'd actually get back there or not. She shifted her weight twice and then leaned over to try to peek in from there. No luck, too many shadows, if she wanted this shite, now was the time to harness up and climb the cliff. His comment about not biting set her off in another giggle fit. 'Oh you don't bite? That's ok, cause I do.' "I don't mind a little biting so long as you let me bite back, alright?" She joined his side of the box and squatted down next to him. She had especially remembered to keep up the act now that they were so close her skinny knee touched his leg. Flushed warm skin, breathing, blinking, fidgeting, all that was happening. Her elbows went to rest on her splayed legs, and her hands dangled freely between her thighs. He was close enough to smell her even, she had no bodily odor at all, but there was a certain, oddness. The smell of paint and a perfume applied as if to cover it, and though that smelled really good, probably better if it were alone, even it carried curious notes of rose, pepper and sandalwood. She leaned over slightly to look in the steel box, eyes squinting against the darkness, try as she might to see without the aide of the streetlights. She was going to have to take off her hood. She rocked back on her heels a bit, grazing against him once more before deciding to just get comfortable and kneeled too. She didn't need the comfort angle she'd been asked to hold more awkward poses for longer periods of time, but a human might. And that was what she was right now. Just a perfect mortal model that party'd, got lifted, fucked around and slept the day away. She tucked her fingers under the hood and pulled down after she got readjusted, not touching him quite so much now. Winter clothing made things rather hard to get intimate anyway. He could see her profile now surely. Shortish boy cut hair, beautiful ocean blue eyes, perfectly pointed noise, strong cheeks and jawbone. Definitely beautiful, probably a face he'd seen before if he'd ever opened a magazine. She'd hoped he wouldn't recognize her but the drugs were winning the war against her common sense. The girl finally actually peeked inside the box and her eyes went wide as a kid on Christmas day. "Hoooooly shite!!!" She didn't scream it, but her voice was a whispered high-pitched inflection of pure glee. She wished so badly that she could just grab something, anything, fuck it, try something new right now just to see what happens. Lay out on the ground, stoned, or take a flight, she didn't fucking care. The damned girl was damned though, sad but true. "Ok, holy fuck... ok, who are you? And how the fuck did you get all this?" Her voice came out just above a whisper. She wasn't accusing him of anything the girl actually looked damned excited about the finds in front of her. She could see a lot of shite in there. "I don't even know what half of this is!" Could have been the stash of a cop, but she wasn't thinking, the motherlode was in front of her. Oh yes, this girl would be coming back. So often in fact she started to wonder if it actually would kill her. Her pretty blue eyes latched on to his green ones, anxious now for his story. |
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| Church | Monday, 24. February 2014, 18:09 Post #23 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"You like?" I ask with a grin, happy to waste a few seconds outlining that appealing kisser of hers. Something about the girl doesn't strike me right, I can't fathom her being the kind of user she appears to be making out. She holds herself like she's invincible, giggles at the silly dealers advice about meth, offers a nibble back should I be the bitey kind. Flirty, yeah, probably buttering up her dealer to get things that her body could bring for free. It's just that confidence in doing so though, with a complete stranger of a dealer, in broad-erm-night light...I could almost believe she's a Cainite, were it not for the fact she looked so damn healthy, had that gentle swelling to her breast every so often (Yeah, I'm looking at the goods). I can only assume she's just another socialite who is damn good at faking, she's even pulling a number on me. She's likes the minor stuff, but wants to move on up. It's a bad choice but eh, maybe she don't like looking so cute. She'd rather her face split open and age so rapidly she'll have to wear a paper bag on her head as she sucks dick for dollar to keep the habit alive. Poor girl. Again, like CJ, I feel like giving her the benefit of the doubt, but this time I may be a little powerless to do so. As much as I don't want to ruin her life, I'm also feel strangely compelled to sort her out with a goody bag full of all sorts to try. It was something of an unexpected reaction, and yet, he would have been the same giddy mess had he been presented with a collection of this magnitude. It was the accumulation of near forty years in the drug trade, with each transaction or transportation of something for Jack or some other shmuck wanting the job done right, I always skimmed a little off the top for myself. That and I stole a prescription pad from Doctor Mitchell back a few years ago after I accidentally broke his writing hand. Long story. While I can't share that enthusiasm or excitement, what with being clean and, well, knowing damned well that this has been sat at the bottom of my closet for a while. "I'm just your friendly neighbourhood dealer, though you can call me Church. These, this box, it's all mine. Couldn't even tell you where I got it all from...Not that all of it is my cup of tea, but ya never know when you wanna try somethin' new out." I tilt my head a little, understanding that my foot is kind of jammed in my mouth now as I encourage her adventurous appetite. We both don't seem to be disciples of the philosophy 'free your mind and your ass will follow.' Live and let live eh? Who am I to say now. For her? My eyes scan for a second, hand dipping in and ruffling through the many pill bottles, plastic boxes and transparent bags loaded with various ways of high, be it solid, liquid or gas (pretty sure I had some laughing gas, no idea how that works with vamps). What am I looking for? There's one full of yellow pills, one full of blue. Those are the valiums I think - which are a lot of fun for minimal risk. As long as you ain't operating heavy machinery. No, not those. This one! I grab hold of the zip lock sandwich bag that has been crammed with hundreds of little white pills. I even put a big 'E' in permanent marker on there just in case I couldn't remember. "This is what you're after, honey." I hold the bag aloft, though not actually handing it over to her. Why would I wanna do that, you look with your eyes, right? "I'm sure they were good. Been a while since I dropped one bu' I didn't hear no complaints off my girl about them." My girl being Macey of course, the blood doll/metaphorical needle through which I was able to blot the world out with. I shrug, my other hand still poking through the container for other bits and pieces. "I got MDMA if that's your thing to. Weed ain't an issue-" I point at the plastic carrier bag wrapped around a good few ounces of the stuff in the corner. "-But, well, here it is." I think. I believe. I pull from the container a much smaller one, dark green in colour, it almost looks like a mini medkit box. I give it a few hearty pats on the side before popping open the two clips on it. I open it slowly, but I keep my eyes on her to gauge what exactly I'm dealing with. Inside is exactly what she wanted, a clear bag containing the clear, crystal like substance. Now this I'd need to weigh, cause shit ain't cheap. "An' here's the Ice." I present it to her, not taking my eyes off hers. "As reluctant as I am to give it to yah, you're a big girl." As she has made obvious already, though she also called me daddy. I'm not her daddy...I hope. I could maybe be in a sort of 'who's your daddy' kind of way but I wouldn't wanna kill the sweet little thing would I? "Dunno if I can describe it to yah. Ever take a Fastin? I think they were only around in the states. A buddy said it's like taking one of them times a thousand." I have no idea what that means, I was long dead before genuine business and corporations started poisoning people with their sloppy concoctions. "Maybe I can tempt you with something else, huh? What you go for in a high? What you doin' in the night? Cause if it's feeling good in general, I can sort something out that won't ruin that pretty face of yours. Might work out cheaper too." Cause that's the problem with Meth. It's literally the worst thing in every conceivable way possible...but my god, what a high. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Thursday, 27. February 2014, 09:32 Post #24 |
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Caitlyn nodded in reply to his first question. Of course she liked it, dude had the holy mecca of drugs in this bin! Kid in a candy store much?! She took a few long seconds to graze over the contents of the box. Shocked really, she'd never met a dealer with soooo much variety. Usually people kind of took to a specialty of some sort. But this box even had prescription medications? Quite puzzling, really. Caitlyn was so busy trying to figure all this out she hadn't noticed him checking her out. She wouldn't put it past him of course but she was stunned by the mystique of his collection. 'Friendly neighborhood dealer!?' That made Caitlyn chuckle quite a bit. "I would say that's accurate! You're about the friendliest fuckin' one I've ever met." Not entirely true but close enough, she was sort of forcing his mind a little but she was starting to wonder if she really needed to... He really did seem amicable enough. It was too bad he couldn't remember where he'd gotten this stash though. She'd have happily listened to each and every account. Hell, he probably had hundreds of stories about people or crazy situations. "I'm Cici. Real nice to meet you!" She gave him a stunning smile that displayed her perfect bright white teeth. Clearly not the smile of someone whose done very much meth. Then she smiled in agreement, feeling willing to try some new things herself. She looked on eagerly as he searched through the products. Her eyes wandering trying to figure out what some of the moved over items were. The ecstasy bag full of pills was right there in his hand. "Yeeeaaahhh." She said in a slow satisfied drawl, her southern English accent coming out stronger. She didn't react at the mention of his girl though. Her mind filed it away as confirmation of a misses. He'd probably dropped that line on purpose. Probably needing to wrangle his thoughts from straying too far from home. He kept talking about his goods, so she paid attention. She looked at the package of weed and was contemplating the MDMA. That'd be something new for her, she'd never had it pure. He'd gone on searching though coming up with the... ahhhhh yes. The Crystal Meth. She met his eyes briefly, he was watching her. Like seriously watching her. Was this some kind of test now? Maybe he needed to see if she could really handle it. If she really wanted it. She was now in uncharted territory. Meth as a vampire hadn't been something she'd tried before and she had a lot more things to consider when buying it. Namely who the hell was going to be her blood doll on this one? Jen would take the weed and E no problem, but the meth would take some work. She'd also wondered how her dead body was going to react to such a dangerous chemical. Would she still get the rush? The ramped up sex drive? Would she have to hole up in a dark room all day from the inability to rest at the Suns call? The more she thought about it the worse the idea became. And it started to show in her face. Worrying wasn't really her style, put a damper on her fun usually so she just tried not to do it. No point in being stressed about something you can't control! She would have to be throughly prepared if she chose to take this trip though. And preparation wasn't really a strong quality of hers. She was actually quite literally in the opposite direction. Her lips pursed a little as she eyed the container. She seemed to shrink back in her body just a bit. There were so many unknowns it was making her uncomfortable thinking about it all. Part of her wanted to just take the shit and see what the hell happened. But a larger part was concerned... and lazy. 'It wouldn't hurt to just have it on hand though.' She tried to reason. Like the meth would call to her from the corner of her room and beg her to find a vessel for it. Trick some young fragile mind into destroying themselves for the sake of her pleasure. That wasn't really something she would do. Her humanity was just a bit too high to think that was ok. Maybe if she only used that person once though. Fuck! Now she was reasoning again! Wasn't that what addicts did, explain away the addiction to everything but the addiction. She had to take it though, her confidence wouldn't let her back down. But would she ever use it? That'd be a battle of her willpower. He was already pluggin at her looks... Doubtful it'd do much to a vampire that she couldn't heal. Dammit! Another unknown. She wasn't playing this tug of war now, no. She wanted what she wanted, fuck reason. "I definitely want some." She said, looking like she'd crossed a trench in her mind and come out victorious but dirty as hell, her now wandering eyes telling the story of her inner struggle. "I've taken meth before and managed not getting addicted, it's been a while though. Maybe just a little, like half a gram. I'll let you try to sell me on something else but I've never heard of Fastin. " Caitlyn shrugged her left shoulder. Doubtful he had anything close to the release she was after. Her eyes wandered to his, softer than they had been since she'd first approached him. "So, I like to feel alive... Like really alive! Full of energy, happy and shite, right. Just tell the world to fuck off and do whatever I want to. Be free with my words, in my mind and with my body. I do like feeling good, like what the fuck is the point of life without heavy doses of pleasure to drown out the rest of the horse shite?" She paused, a second or so, enough to make that point resonate for herself. "I can't describe it, but my means of satisfying that base human need, are dwindling every night. Everything I used to love just feels like its coming up short or falling to shite. Just got out of really fucked up relationship where I was basically used like a puppet. Money's not like it used to be, my modeling career might not pan out if I don't figure out how to do that on my own. My life's getting darker and darker and I need to be able to get out every once in a while. Have some fun meaningless sex, dance til I'm barefoot, escape a bit. Truthfully, no, I don't want to give up my looks. But I need to let go..." Why the fuck was she telling all this to a stranger?? He just tapped her button and she exploded, all this came pouring out her mouth, unfiltered except for the masquerade. She was at least well practiced in that show. Fucking the masquerade up could result in some damned final things. The tale was partly true, and vague enough to where it sounded like she might be too hurt to go into details. "All that and I've never had a better fuck or high than when I was on meth..." Also not entirely true, being repeatedly bitten whilst fucking had been the pinnacle of a high she'd probably hoped to achieve as a vampire. But she had yet to explore this. Certainly meth had been a pinnacle experience of her breathing days. Combining them could be fun. She wondered a moment if Margo would be down to bite her while she was on it and get stoned herself. "Just a little bit, you don't have to ever sell me anymore..." She giggled having had the mood down the toilets for a bit longer than her own tastes. "Probably what all the addicted blokes say ain't it?!" She grinned, her eyes truly locking on his for the first time in their encounter really, she wanted to know if he related, see what his soul hid. "Ok, seriously what else ya got?" |
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| Church | Monday, 3. March 2014, 03:18 Post #25 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Can't argue with that, can I? Wanting to feel alive. Jeez, I can appreciate that sentiment better than she'll ever know. Cause that's all there is to this wretched existance, or so I have come to believe. Sure, sure, you can play your games with the Capes; become the most powerful and dominant motherfucker the domain ever did see, but that ain't for everyone. It sure ain't for me. I'm more into doing whatever the fuck is needed to keep things interesting and bearable until that sweet judgement day comes. I mean sure, something in my head keeps me alive, that basic survival instinct that every vamp gets from their baby years - being human. But if it wasn't for having a lover that knew how to treat me right, and keep me entertained with new and delightful ways to break me down, I wouldn't wanna be alive right now. Still, I ain't selling her Mac. I let her finish talking, and glad she enquired about something else, at least shows me she isn't actually set on this and therefore not an addict. Yet. I poke my hand around the box some more, not sure what I can do. There's a fucking rainbow of different chemicals to try out there, it just requires the know on how to find them. Or find me. Which a model named Cici managed to do before her life got destroyed. Maybe that's what they'll say on the internet, or in the tabloids. A model? Not a huge one I take it. Not that I'd know, but something inside me giggles at the notion of being photographed and showing up in tomorrow's black and white. Anyway, enough of that, back to the task at hand...what's better than Meth? It seems somewhat stupid to start arguing out the pro's and con's of Meth against Heroin. Or Crack. I look at her with curious eyes, squinting in the yellow street light as if it will somehow enable me to peer into her soul. No luck, of course, but she's pretty nice to look at. I don't even mind how exposed I am right not letting her peruse the goods, provided no flashing blue lights come around the corner. "What can I say? Meth is a hellova drug. Most 'blokes' tell me it's the best and they're gonna be coming back for more. And if it's feeling alive you want...I probably can't do you much better." I conceit, utterly defeated by her argument. Well, perhaps not utterly so, what with her life getting darker and I can tell her right now that losing herself ain't gonna fix any of that stuff. It didn't for me. It seemed like it was helping but, hindsight being a big bitch 'n all, I realise it's just a fucking band aid for the real problems. If what she says is 100% truthful, that for now and again use just to shake away the cobwebs and enjoy herself every once in a while, I can dig. "Though I would say that with regards to the best fuck you had? Could've been the person you were fucking. Just sayin'...Cause Meth, it's got the price to match the high. Last I checked, this stuff retails two hundred bucks plus a gram. Sometimes two-fifty. We English up that price, I'm looking for a hundred quid a gram." I sound like I know my shit cause, for once, I do. Prices not really all that keen on changing unless you can make better stuff for cheaper. I even know my conversion is being somewhat sympathetic to her wallet instead of my own, but being so determined to get shot of this stuff, I ain't exactly needing the money either. "The only alternatives? Shit. I got some Ether if you just wanna roll around and giggle. Nitrous has a similar effect. Or if you like the visual stuff, tripping balls and what not, I got a few blotters of acid. A bag of mescaline just there..." I poke at a screwed up ball of dried cactus with a forefinger, though shrug as I do so. "You're right girl, I ain't your papa. You can make your own decisions...I mean, a lot of this shit ain't easy to come by so even if you did end up tearing your eyeballs out to get more of it, you ain't gonna. Unless you come back to me of course." I rationalise, almost to myself, but I do manage to shoot her a grin at the notion. "I could maybe put together a 'party bag' for you...few of your favourites, some new things to try...see what you like. Course, I don't wanna presume if you ain't too keen on payin'." Cause really, a model? With an accent that...it sounds sort of the posh English accent you hear but hell if I know if she's from money. Clearly from good genes and expensive tastes, but that could be from anything. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Monday, 3. March 2014, 23:07 Post #26 |
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Caitlyn watched him point out more stuff. Half of what he said she didn't even know existed or what it did. Still she listened intently, feeling like having so many options would make it impossible to choose. "Sounds like you're making a case to be my new dealer." She mused at his conceit. The girl actually had no real problems with his sales pitch, cause for one thing. It didn't look like he was lying, she'd be hard pressed to come across this kind of stash as haphazardly as she had now. "Never heard of half this shite to be honest." She admitted with a shrug. No use trying to pretend she was an expert on all things drugs. Hell he could be selling her compressed air and she'd buy it. The way he phrased that payment bit was curious. Did that mean she could get away with not paying and could be frank about it? "Soooo, what, you got something in mind other than straight cash?" She could pay, for some of it anyway. Caitlyn was by no means rich, she was lucky that she'd looked good growing up cause she wouldn't really have many other assets to go by. Still she had designer clothes, accessories and make-up falling out of her ears. Made it a whole lot easier to look wealthy. She was on the hunt for a sugar somebody so she could relax and get back into what she loved doing. But for now she had to hustle, just a little to not risk spending her next month's rent on a party stash she'd never actually use firsthand. "How much are we talking for your party bag? Money or otherwise?" Otherwise having been left ambiguous as she was frankly down for whatever. |
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| Church | Wednesday, 12. March 2014, 16:26 Post #27 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Party bag it is! Has she agreed to that? Party bag it is! My hands start to work right away, first my reaching for the flap on the very top right hand of the thing which, dipping my fingers into, reveals itself to be chalked with clear plastic bags that everything else is wrapped in. I also search with a distinct lack of care through the contents to find a spoon. I know there's one in here and far be it from me to be an unsavoury and not health conscious dealer. Scales I have tucked away in my pocket, which I pull out and lay on the pavement just in front of the box. I then look at her and raise an eyebrow to her question. "I mean there's not too much point in me knocking something up for you if it's gonna be too expensive. But we'll see. I prefer cash, though I ain't too picky about what countries currency you wanna use. If I'm honest? Money isn't everything to me. I'm sure open to a lil negotiation." I shoot her pretty face a smirk before getting back to business. I realise now how that may have come across, and frankly, it shouldn't have should it? I mean, you start blowing your dealer, you're definitely a fucking addict. I'm happy to accept other forms of payment, sure, but I forgot who I was talking to. I doubt she has the kind of cool shit to trade that Tijuana scag barons do. "Well, let's see here. Let's say...half a gram of meth. Couple dozen E's. Little MDMA for you to try. Hell, fuck it." My words are slow and deliberate to follow along with what I am bagging up. First was the meth, which I weighed out at 0.72 of a gram but I guess I give the best deals around right? That gets tipped into the bag before I tie it off and pull out another and double bag the meth. I open the bag of Ecstasy and siphon a numberless amount in as well, though not particularly concerned with being precise. Same goes for the MDMA, getting it,s own little bag, being just shy of a gram. Then I just start shoving in anything and everything I've got just so she has a sample of all the wares. "Well price is...let's say I give you this for two hundred an' fifty bucks and you're getting a sweet deal. You promise to come back and see me, I can let it go for less. I'm more interested in getting this stuff shifted than making money, y'understand?" Sounds fair, right? I seem to have an air of sincerity about me, cause when has this ever been about money? |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Friday, 14. March 2014, 02:27 Post #28 |
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Her pretty little blue eyes watched him bag up and describe what he was doing. One hand stuck between her thighs against the cold and the other pressed to her lips while she chewed on a finger. It made her a bit nervous that he didn't straight jump on her offer to take him down the alley. 'Maybe his old lady was the no nonsense type. Had his cock on lock so he wasn't jumping around all eagerly at the druggies that wanted to suck and fuck for their fix. Oh well, wonder what I could get away with in his "lil negotiation."' She heard him say half a gram of meth and then watched him dump nearly another quarter on the scale. She giggled with wide eyes, but she didn't say anything. Who was she to correct such blatant inaccuracies especially if it benefitted her. Caitlyn's manicured brows raised a little but more in amusement as he continued to partition his wares in something akin to dumping the lot. This was going to be a very nice goody bag indeed. London dealer score, seriously it didn't get much better than this for illegal substances. And the price he gave - Caitlyn would have literally guffawed if she wasn't trying to keep the illegal activities that they were partaking in low key. That was definitely a deal. And any currency? That sure as hell helped, she had about 10k in US dollars that she didn't bother converting yet. The translation of that would put her down to roughly 6,000 pounds, it'd absolutely save her some work at least. And if he didn't care whether she gave him that exact price in US dollars well he'd certainly be losing some money. Doesn't look like he gives a shit. "Right, I'll most certainly be back lovey. You've got pandora's box right here and you seem to be a bloody generous bloke as well." Caitlyn smiled a cheeky sideways grin and nodded her head confirming her feelings. "So I've got a good bit of American money, stowed up if you want that not on me though, if you're talking American dollars anyway. But in pounds I've got like..." Caitlyn whipped her bag around in front of her and fetched a bright green Michael Kors wallet from it. She counted her cash and was short his amount of course. Who carries that much in cash anyways. "A little over one hundred pounds on me. Will that work for ya. If ya need more cash than that, I'd have to run home and I'm a ways from home right now. Happy to settle it through some... other negotiations as you say." Her eyes had a sharp little twinkle. Maybe a bit more predatory than her build would suggest. She took a long satisfied deep breath and her brows settled back down on her face. Her wallet was open in her hand waiting for his ruling on their exchange. A bit too trusting to be honest. But he seemed like an honest drug dealer, if there ever was such a thing. |
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| Church | Sunday, 16. March 2014, 18:30 Post #29 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I get the distinct impression this girl doesn't wanna pay. I busy myself with throwing a bit more pieces together for the 'party bag.' Strange, she's got dollars? How many girls, clearly British girls, go to America and back at such a young age? Then again, how the fuck do you get paid stupid bucks for being hot? By being hot AND young. Probably flown all over the place, didn't she just say she got out of a bad relationship? Probably a manager taking advantage, working her like a dog, getting her to suck the dicks to open doorways. It's a shame. There are some real sicko's out there...Sure, I'm one of them, but I'm one of the good guys now. Or I like to think I am. But here I am, peddling filth into the veins of London, eyeing up each customer as a potential meal. CJ I felt for. Cici though...Cici. Her name seems so high and mighty, a touch of snobbery that, admittedly, is from her parents and not her. Still, she's a bitch just trying to get her rocks off. Unfortunately, that warrants little mercy. Especially with that look in her fucking eyes...is this girl a man eater or what? "You high right now?" Maybe not what she expected to hear, and the tone I use is one of general curiosity and not scoffing at the amount of money she has with her now. I still carry on working though, opening the bag of kush and picking a few mighty fine looking buds out. So maybe I won't be adding the mescaline, the coke, sure as shit not the heroin. Cause really, if you're on meth, everything pales compared to meth. Although I want the answer to the question to be 'no' there remains something in me that wants a 'Yes, just a little E' or something along those lines. A trace of good time in her system. That would be cheating...fuck it would. I reach over to the wallet, to her I might be satisfied with that price, but instead I lay the hand on hers to push the money away. A cold hand, sure, but seeing as I've been sat on the street for however long, it's almost natural. I lock on to those pretty blue eyes as a dark whispering voice spurs me on. "Hmmm I dunno. Might be a little too much of a good deal then, no?" My tone is not overly serious as I tie off the top of the bag I made up for her and slide it into my pocket. I once again grasp the lid of the case and close it, clasping it shut and spinning the lock combination some before I jerk the hand over my shoulder. " Y'know, I live right here. Just out here to pick up some clientele. Looks like I might've found my new favourite customer too." Jeez, it's natural, but it feels so creepy in terms of being the omnipotent drug dealer who also happens to be the world's biggest sleezeball. In my mortal days, or hell, even pre-Mac days, you better believe I'd have lured her in my web and broke her in fucking half. Now? Now I'm hungry. "What say we get out the cold and work something out?" Negotiations are innocent enough...but my tone and body language...the hand that slid from hers down to 'virtuously' rest on her thigh...my hungry and playful eyes....well, they suggest I'm gonna negotiate the fuck out of her. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Sunday, 16. March 2014, 21:29 Post #30 |
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Who's next?
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Caitlyn was fully aware of the work over she was giving him right now. She had been groomed a be a viper whether she wanted to or not, but as luck would have it, she wanted to. Even if she despised the men that did this to her. Caitlyn's brow raised in amusement when he'd asked her if she was high now. Eh no, sadly and she shook her head once in reply. The vampiric body was both a blessing and a curse. Giving that she could trip a little on something second hand, it usually wasn't nearly as powerful or as long lasting as it had been in her mortal days. That's why this meth experience was so damned intriguing and frightening concurrently. It was an odd question though. What did her being high now have to do with this transaction they were trying to get through? Did he think he could take advantage of her if she was? Uh no need, she'd let him do that regardless of her state of mind and she was fairly certain he knew that. Her mind didn't have time to wonder further though, he'd had his hands on hers reaching for the wallet. She'd held it open for him a bit more assuming he'd take the lot of it and... what? He'd pushed her hand away. His coldness no doubt a result of the chill in the air, right? Another knock on the door of 'maybe he's a vampire too!' that escaped the singularly focused mind of the young kindred. Still her eyes met his with a mild look of confusion, her full lips puckered out like she might start a pout, which she actually did just as it appeared like he wasn't ok with the price. She answered audibly with an, "Awwwwh." She watched with curiousity as he tucked that little baggy in his pocket. 'Shit, girl why don't you carry more money?' "There's no such thing lovey, I didn't expect to run into such a fab street dealer otherwise I'd had more cash on me." His voice still seemed light, but his actions looked like the deal was squashed. Her's sounded teasing, but he might pick up on that hint of disappointment. She tucked her wallet back into her bag while he seemingly packed his wares away. It definitely didn't occur to her that maybe he was packing up to move the party elsewhere. Not until he made a show of pointing out his place and calling her his new favourite customer. 'Hot damn.' Her already warmed over body spurted some extra juice in her cheeks and in between her legs. She blushed so damned bright red she looked freshly slapped. No the deal wasn't going sour it was going exactly where she wanted it to and she bit her puffy lower lip trying to contain her giddiness. "Thanks, I certainly wasn't aimin' for all that, just a curious eye and a bit of an itch that needs scratchin'." Drugs or the need to feed the beast. One was about to start screaming at her, especially to replace what she'd used to get these drugs that only served to bate the beast more as much as she thought it placated. His next sentence reflected her thoughts exactly. Oh thank the stars, YES! He was throwing her all the signals and none of them were lost on her. Not even the hand that made its way to her thigh, she was almost reluctant to move. Cept there was that look in his eye that was screaming his need to be between her thighs or separating her pretty thick lips with the end of his cock wedged in the back of her throat. She chanced a look down at his groin, wondering if he was already tenting, winter clothes didn't make for such an obvious show though and her gaze lazily traveled the rest of his body upwards to meet his eyes. "Yeah, out of the bloody cold sounds like right." Her lips curled coyly, more flirty than shy and she clutched his hand on her thigh to give herself leverage to stand up. She didn't think he'd need a hand getting up himself but she didn't let go unless he did. Once he was up though she giggled to herself. She'd thought up a joke about being led to Church but shook it off. It was corny, she was hungry and horny now. This wasn't the time for lame funnies he'd probably heard. She slug her bag fully over her shoulder and waited for his lead to wherever the deed was going down. |
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| Church | Wednesday, 19. March 2014, 19:51 Post #31 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Glad you think so." Cue chuckling like a carnivore clown. But I'm not exactly trying to scare her away so somehow manage to suppress going full blown psychopath. Instead I push myself upright and let my hand slip away from hers to grab the case, not sure what in the fuck she's giggling at. Oh how I feel sorry for all the two-bit dealers out there who can't get their hands on this shit, who weren't lucky enough to have this girl tag them for some gear. Then again, I also feel sorry for Church, the three-bit dealer, who would happily break this girl like a wishbone if only he'd be able to get his rocks off. She's gorgeous, likes getting high, and I'm guessing knows her way around a dick. Would've made the perfect little fuck toy a year ago. Now? Now I don't see how me giving her a fuck like no other equals actual payment for me. Frankly it's a no lose situation for her, though she's running the risk of being lured into a maniacs rape dungeon. She's not, but from her perspective, she could be. I walk past her, stash stuffed beneath one arm as the other reaches out, brushing my hand along the line of her waist in a motion to follow me up the short flight of steps. The door springs open after a brief rustle of keys, pushing it wide and being all true gentlemanly by motioning ladies first. Though if she could read minds, she'd know that there's nothing father from the truth. Cause the truth is I would've taken her down an alley, eaten her and left her laying in some hobo piss thinking she just had the greatest quickie ever. Take the money she had and leave her the bag in her pocket to amuse herself with. At least until the next time. Only reason I didn't? Conscience? No silly, the stash! Could've taken it with me down there too I spose, but...no. Someone could steal it. Someone could steal me! Honestly...I can't justify why I didn't, cause leading her to my apartment seems like a stupid ass idea too. I don't need people knocking on the door looking for a fix when there could be decapitated heads laying around. Shit. Even though I regret it, I'll still make the most of it. Hell, the moment we cross the threshold I suddenly come to the realisation that I've never actually ran into anyone in this building. Ever. We keep different hours I suppose...or no-one actually lives here. That's a thought, and while tremendously convenient to believe, also gives me the heebies. I don't ever hear them either. Huh, how about that. Then again I 'rent' the place off of a guy I know for a fact is a stinking sewer rat, so maybe he kitted out the place. Maybe only vamps are allowed to live here. Christ I hope we don't start a blood orgy. The case is dropped to my feet and slid against the wall with the bottom of my boot while I shut the door behind me. "Well...we're out the cold." I advance on her a few steps, so we're stood close in the middle of this vacant lobby. I think we'll be good. No prying eyes. Maybe she'll be game for sex on the bench? Or at least buy into it. I slither a hand around her waist and pull her closer, looking down into those pretty peepers with bodies now connecting in all the right places. I also realise that she's too fucking short for this to work right. "So...lemme see." I grumble with a face full of contemplation, as if I'm trying to convert cash currency into sexual favours. Instead I lean a little closer and give pause, eyes travelling from her hips to her eyes. The hand smooth's from the small of her back down to her bottom and seem to hint that she should get this thighs straddling me a good 'un. All of which seems to be done with a certain ferocity; hopefully she'll mistake hunger for horniness. Not hard to believe when you look as good as her, I imagine. "Why don't you just close your eyes an' lemme make you feel good, hmm?" Man I am generous, and pumping supernatural charm in my words to seem almost too good to be true. I warm my body a few degrees, so my touch isn't so deathly, so I seem to acclimatize. But my mouth especially, tongue need to be fucking human feeling before I part her lips and slide it in. Then I guess I'll, with her co-operation, lead her to the far wall, lay her down on that bench and climb on top of her like a horny teen. So if any fucker should wander in it'll just look like two junkies dry humping in the lobby. And I'm totally ok with that. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Sunday, 23. March 2014, 02:33 Post #32 |
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Who's next?
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Caitlyn moved towards the building at his direction. The gentle hand on her slim waist was far more appropriate than the leading she thought she'd be getting, and in the opposite direction of where she'd originally assumed they'd be going. She bounded up the stairs after him, her heeled leather boots clanked ever so softly on the pavement below them. She didn't really have much of an opinion of what was about to happen, because she wasn't exactly new to this game. She'd already figured she was going to blow him, pop her fangs in his dick, then let him fuck her against a wall while she had a nibble at his neck. She watched him open the door all gentlemanly like and smiled as she saw herself through the opened door. It wasn't hard to figure out that things were going to get pretty personal pretty soon but her hunger was nagging. She'd planted herself in the middle of the foyer and waited for him to lead the way to his room. Her brow furrowed and her eyes lowered to the case on the ground as it was dropped and promptly kicked to the wall. Several thoughts ran through her mind then, primarilly wondering if he might have owned the whole building and it really was ok to do what they were about to do in here, or that it wasn't about to happen. His words affirmed the first thought in a way. "That we are!" She smiled though made no mention at the exact reason that out of the cold didn't exactly equal his place. Instinctively her back arched pushing her chest against his as he pulled her closer. She wasn't flat by any means, but she wasn't too big either, just the perfect amount of heft for her thin frame and height. She actually considered herself blessed to have the plump natural breasts that she did. There were many a model that were flat. Actually that counted as true for most of them. So yeah, she was blessed. Her eyes locked into his and instantly took on a sultry would be bedroom gaze had they been in some kind of a bedroom. The foyer was a step up from the alley to be sure so she wasn't going to complain. The look in his eyes when she finally got a good look at him was full of lust, but there was something else in them that she couldn't put her finger on. Sort of a weariness actually, probably from drug use. She wouldn't be surprised if the dealer did like to dip in his stash from time to time. Catilyn wasn't short at all they were damned near eye to eye actually. She was just shy of six feet without the heeled boots and with them she was just a bit over. Her faked breaths became a bit sporadic as he moved closer still and eyed her body. Caitlyn had that whole human in heat game figured out from the second she was embraced. The lad stood no chance really. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter. As his hand traveled over the dip at her back that led to her bottom she sucked in a breath. The jeans were so tight on her they'd done little to hide the swell that became her ass. Highlighting that in fact because she had been blessed in that area too. When his hands clutched her just shy of her thigh she got the message and responded quickly by lifting her legs and wrapping them around him. She smiled saucily just about to go in for a kiss as his hands smoothed not so gently down her thighs to hold her negligible weight. She was just about to go in for a little neck nibble, when felt his chest boom out words that felt so good she actually cooed. She'd heard what he said and it even registered in her mind that they were here for her to service him in some way but he'd turned things around on her. He wanted to make her feel good and there was no arguing that in this little hedonist's mind. So she'd done just what he asked of her. She closed her pretty blue eyes, lined with a crap ton of well applied black liner and shadow and felt his lips press against hers and part them without a moments hesitation. The girl welcomed his tongue and went to town working hers against his, letting him take full control and enjoy being inside her warmed and slick mouth. Caitlyn was enjoying the kiss probably a bit more than she normally would have. There was just something about this man's switch from friendly neighborhood dealer to charming backstreet hunk of man that she didn't want to be away from right now. Nope not at all, he was going to have his way with her in anyway he wanted. She wouldn't dare disconnect from his mouth right now, it made her feel good to have his lips pressed tight against hers and their tongues making friends all cozily inside, even while he moved them and he'd layed her on the bench, her head lifting up as gravity took her lower than him so she wouldn't have to break the lip lock. Letting out several stifled moans in the process. Once he was on top of her, her hands went busy trying to get him free of the jacket he'd been wearing. Her lids were still shut tight so doing anything efficiently was a challenge. She'd wanted a hold of some skin though and sought the divide between his pants and shirt to grope with her thin fingers. Her hips bucked towards him as he settled between her thighs. She was even more eager now that it seemed he wanted to pleasure her. That shite hardly seemed fair the drugs were supposed to be used to make her feel good and she needed to be on the floor throating him like she was starved. But she was of no state of mind to argue right now. |
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| Church | Monday, 31. March 2014, 19:51 Post #33 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Interesting. As I'm busy locking lips with this broad, doing the usual song and dance with a lad before I drain her, things are a little clearer at this angle. I was never the sharpest tool in the box but that didn't matter none growing up, cause I had the brains where it mattered. Being educated don't make you any smarter, it just makes you more knowledgeable. Instinct and guts can get you a whole lot further than shit spewed at you in a book. And it's funny how the two are almost interchangeable. I know people with college degrees who can't figure out how things work in the real world. And, what with the world being what it real is, no amount of teaching is gonna keep you alive in the night. Not if something really, really wants to eat you. Ergo, I'm a smart motherfucker. And one of the few things Church has learnt over the years; people fucking stink. Mortals that is. I mean I used to distinctively have a whiff of whiskey about my persons constantly, cause even if I wasn't drinking it at the time I sure was fucking sweating it. And sweat comes in all varieties. You get the meat sweats, the junkie sweats, the vodka ones...Why is any of this significant? Well, y'know how it's freezing out, you begrudgingly lay on the layers in order to just be able to fucking make it to wherever you're going in sheer misery. And because you're so wrapped up, eventually you're gonna hit that switch from cold to hot and instantly you wanna tear all your fucking clothes away. At least that's how I remember it, back in the states where the winters were a damn sight colder. And if I was on a bike, all leathered up and helmeted so I don't lose what little brain I have. I would fucking stink. She...doesn't. There's that sort of cosmetic smell, or at least something nice enough that it doesn't get natural produced from the body. Without knowing how long she's been out and about I can't really just start freaking out can I? Likewise, there is a distinct lack of thumping. Is that normal? Probably. I'm so used to the hammering heartbeat of a super ghoul that I figure all hearts are like that. But no-one, especially no damn mortal, is like my Princess. Her heart pumps like no other cause it's powering a body like no other, doing things like no other. Mac always feels like she's gonna burn out. This girl, less so. But she looks good. Healthy. Is that a for or against her being the living dead? Especially...doing meth. Fuck. Shifting her weight is no problem, especially as she has become so compliant by wrapping herself around me. I took a few steps towards the wall like I wanted, though instead of laying her down flat I push her against it. I pull myself off of her, not especially guarded against her searching hands but my heads switched on to the side of caution. It makes sense right? Far too pretty and young and fearless to wander London at night. Looking for a fix, sure, but what was gonna stop me pulling a knife as soon as we got in here and stop a night full of sick abuse? My hands remain on her shoulders, though now I notice she's managed to unzip my jacket which...eh. Only wearing one layer and going bare beneath a hoodie in the British winter is not exactly incognito. Neither is being big, pale and tattoo'd but hey, it's worked so far. Her chest heaves and ho's. No way she's dead. She's too fucking hot too be one of us shambling corpses. My hands slide down her sides and rest at her waist, lightly tugging the material instead of ripping them clean off like I probably could. Cause I sure got a test that I'm pretty sure is fool proof. Pretty sure... "Wanna lose the pants, sweetheart?" I ask, albeit a little less playful in demeanour. I'm still hungry, but filling myself with self doubt and paranoia will put a dampener on the good mood somewhat till I know one way or another. So much so that I might need to indulge in my old favourite pastime of eating pussy to chirp back up. |
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| Caitlyn Cummings | Thursday, 3. April 2014, 10:40 Post #34 |
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Who's next?
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She hadn't expected to come across bare skin when she unzipped his hoodie. A t-shirt or wife-beater at least. Was she concerned about this? It wasn't exactly the thickest jacket to be wearing outside at a time like this. She wasn't dressed for the cold either, really - a long sleeved tee and short sleeved sweater/hoodie was more akin to fall type weather than the burly end of winter. But she had a reason for that she was a vampire and could give a fuck less about the cold. It wasn't like her body temperature responded to changes like this anymore anyway. She'd lucked out on her embrace and never lost her human luster but otherwise she was what she was. Did these thoughts cross her young baby vamp brain? No, cause all she saw was ink and muscle and God damn! It was hard having a hedonistic one track mind especially when the train hopped right on the tracks and was going to take her on a ride. Her hands slipped down his burly shoulders and over his clavicle to greedily grope and claw at his chest while his hands slid down her body. Her breath hitched a bit when his fingers graced her waist, and tugged at the fabric insistently. Then he asks oh so kindly with a bit more punch than he had spoken with previously for her bottoms to be ditched. He probably wanted the knickers off too. Her brows went up as she locked eyes with him, full of wicked anticipation. "I want to if you want me to?!" She smiled softly and nudged her pelvis forward to get a little bit more space between them so she could 'disrobe.' She sounded willing to please but not too over eager as he looked like he was ready to get down to business and she didn't want to distract him by acting childish. Her pants were tight and wouldn't come off without first undoing her boots. She took a moment and tried to get them off quickly by stepping on the back of the heel and pulling her foot out of it. Worked for one foot but not the other. Bullocks, there wasn't anything sexy about this process. She wanted what he offered badly though so she swiftly made her way out of her other boot by wrapping her long leg dexterously around his legs and pulled the damned leather thing off that way, and throwing it across the room for good measure. "Heh, girls shoes are kind of a pain." She mused. Her perfect puffy lips were pulled into a cheeky grin. Caitlyn righted herself and clearly lost a few centimeters on him taking off her heeled boots. She was just a tad shorter than him now. Her fingers moved to unbutton and unzip quickly. She pulled apart the fabric very slowly though, making sure his eyes were down there before she kept going. When she was sure he was watching she slowly dragged the fabric over her thin waist and supple hips. Instead of the milky white skin she normally donned, he'd be assaulted with a mixture of shimmering, sparkling and matte paint - all bright and colorful with black lines interlacing the swirling design. Body Paint From his view the paint looked like it might cover all of her body with the exception of the extreme parts of her extremities. Probably making it really hard for him to tell the true color of her skin. She'd grabbed her knickers, a lacy white thong, in her thumbs as her pants descended her body, so she was bare when they finally got to her ankles and she slipped it all off. The subtle scent of her arousal was permeating the space between them. The paint WAS everywhere, even covering the lips of her smooth bare vag. She was half naked in the foyer of a random apartment building and in no apparent rush at all. Someone could come in at any moment and see her standing there completely bottomless and she didn't seem perturbed by that at all. In fact, he hadn't asked for it but she went ahead and crossed her arms across herself to pull her shirts off too. She tossed the rest of her clothes on top of her pants and knickers and stood against the wall in just her white lacy bra and full body paint. "Thought it might help. Hope you don't mind the body paint, my girlfriend did it." She said softly, and while she hated to do it, she bit her lower lip before pulling him back to her and seeking out his lips for an aggressive, eager and very sloppy kiss. Never mind that there wasn't that distinctive space between girl and friend. It was definitely one word. She was done playing games and beating around the bush. She needed him in hers! Well, she didn't have a bush per se but the metaphor still applied. If he bothered to study her nearly nude form at all he would notice that her exposed skin had a porcelain white quality rather than that gray deadening look most vampires had. Her cheeks were flushed with heat burning from apparent desire. Her heart did indeed beat, albeit not particularly loud since you usually had to be ear to chest to actually hear a human heart beating. Her breathing had picked up too and it was likely he'd notice the discoloration of her silver barbell piercings on the sides of her pink nipples through the fabric of her bra. For her part Caitlyn started working his pants off, aiming to merely get them dropped to the ground since he didn't need to be all spread eagle like she would have to be. She was pretty adept at getting him unbuttoned and unzipped. Assuming he let her. She'd no idea what he intended to do, but he'd made it clear that he wanted to make her feel good and she was primed. Those words had set her off and she was definitely moistened, ready and wanting. Edited by Caitlyn Cummings, Thursday, 3. April 2014, 10:41.
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| Church | Sunday, 6. April 2014, 18:49 Post #35 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Damn skippy I want you to, and damn right I'm happy to take a step back and watch her, with as much feminine grace that can be afforded to difficult footwear, get down to her birthday suit. And man, what a suit! It's a little fucking perplexing to look at as she unveils a fucking rainbow surprise that I can kind of chalk off that smell to now, and I get that she's a model. Still, what the fuck she modelling? Things were sure different back in the day, and last time I looked at a pin up must've been the sixties. They didn't look this good back then, or my memory isn't so good and I can't remember. Either way, I can understand why people would throw money at her just for...I dunno, standing there. But like all pretty girls, I find myself thinking, she'd make a killing doing porn. I can respect a lady who gets down to pretty much her bare bones in the most random of places. Well, I'm not sure if 'respect' is the right word to use, but I'll use it anyway. The way she backs against the wall and just shows herself off for a second, I almost wanna give this girl the fucking of a life time. Just...cause. Cause she's challenging me for it. And as she pulls me in to her embrace again, locking up lips and sampling every nook and cranny of her tongue, I consider taking her upstairs. Just me and her, seeing as everybody I know decided to get the fuck out when they had the chance. Maybe have her stay a few nights, sample a few concoctions from the box, get all fucked up and silly...the fact that I'm entertaining the notion is good. At least if I'm thinking about it, I won't be so stupid as the accidently, spur of the moment, turn her into another drug doll/fuck toy. Cause really, whats gonna happen? She's something of a freak, I can see that in her eyes. In the cold metal that is pushed into my chest from her nipples. She likes fucking a whole damn lot...and I could put her in a wheelchair. Hell, I could kill her with sex. Wouldn't that be a kindness? I can feel her working at my own fly now, and I lightly slap them away, shooing them almost. You don't REALLY wanna die do you, honey? Of course not. By dropping them panties to the floor, I'm convinced she's exactly she seems to be. Whatever cobwebs are cluttering up my brain need to get rinsed out, but lord it's difficult to do alone. I drop to a knee in front of her. Then the other. My eyes linger on hers for a moment before I focus straight ahead, right on that sweet fruit that needs eating. And sucking. God I love pussy... even when it's flimsy and unexciting, I can eat that shit. And frankly, as I reach my hands around her hips, fingers sprawling on a tight little ass, I delve in. The tip of my tongue traces the length of her lips a few times over, tasting what seems to be the natural wetness of an excited woman. I even focus on the clit for a minute or so of gentlemanly payment for what I'm about to take. I twirl my tongue around it, making sure that she reacts in the way I want before going any further, which is to say, a complete and utter unknowing of what's going on down here would be a might suspicious. But her body seems to stiffen the right way, her breathing fluctuate a little as I run a hand down a thigh and hike it over my shoulder. The very thigh I take a break from the cullilingus to lay a few unnecessary kisses down. The thigh that, while laying lips on, I listen to make sure there aren't any jangling of keys, or slamming of doors, or footsteps coming from the flight of stairs. The thigh that I sink my fangs right into. The beast purrs somewhere in the abyss in its content. But more than that, its hunger is sated by the most delicious of feasts. The explosion of flavour, the second everything seems to pop into focus, it's a moment of divine thanks that there should be some pleasure for me to salvage on this rock. It burns almost, that sort of sweetness that you know is bad for you. The shit that'll rot your teeth. And the overwhelming power that every sip I take makes me want two more. It's too good to be true...because it is. It's not true. I know all too late, and yet, I don't know if I can stop. If I should stop. Holy fuck, she's a fanger. And a fanger whose blood I would do damn near anything to drink. Just like Nora, just like Letitia, just like Jack... No. Fuck that. "Da fuck is this?" Somehow, I managed to pull away. It's inexplicable how it happened, because in that moment of feeding the world around had melted away into puddles of colour, only to slowly reform in my daze. I haven't the time to seal the wound, lick whatever trail has dribbled down my chin...no matter how fond I am of doing so. Instead I just stare blankly in horror or a few seconds, realising what I've done. Then I realise what she's done. And I'm not happy about that...not at all. She bonded me, enslaved me to some degree...I know a way to break such a bond. Immediately. I'm on my feet in a hearbeat, wiping that fucking stray tear of blood in my sleeve cause I can't have it there. Smelling all enticing, making my mind figure that the damage has already been done and I should indulge. Indulge so far as to make this problem go away before it can manifest fully. It's what old Church would've done, not because he was smarter, but because he was more ruthless. More paranoid. More indulgent. This Church, right here, right now? He hasn't a fucking clue what to do. He gets his hands around her throat and pins her against the wall, and if she weren't the living dead, she'd probably get choked out in the reckless tightness of my grip. "Who the fuck are you?" I spit in her face. She better have a good fucking answer, cause I can't think of one that'll remotely help her case. |
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3:14 PM Jul 11