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Post by cecelia emerson reese . on Feb 3, 2009 9:12:00 GMT 10
never had a b a c k s t e e t guy
Cecelia Reese was, in a word, bored. She stared intently at her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Couldn’t these places ever have better lighting in the bathroom? No one wanted to look at their reflection and appear horrid, when in a place they most desired to look good. Yes, Cecelia was well aware of what most people came to night clubs for. They wanted to ‘pick up’. It seemed like such a silly ritual to her actually. But alas, there she was, completely in the thick of the mating ritual for the twenty first centenary. Having a completely yawn worthy time.
Of course, and I’m not saying this is true at all, but it could be because the slightly spoiled socialite had very high standards that better places then the one she was currently in failed to meet. Or it could have been that she was not in the mood. A friend had pleaded with her to come, then ditched her for a guy in tight pants. Which, that reminded her, she would inform them was very rude when the night was over. It had also been a waste of the hundred she had slipped the nice bouncer to get in. Her being completely underage of course.
Peering closer at her features in the somewhat dirty mirror, Cecelia screwed up her nose. She didn’t even look that amazing. The band in her hair just barely matched the dress she had thrown on, and her hair was in desperate need of some product, but she didn’t look like trash. So that in itself was a positive sign. Un clipping her clutch, the youth pulled out a tube of dark pink gloss. Applying just the lightest coat to her lips. Checking to ensure it was even, and none was outside of her lip line. Once satisfied with that, she threw the gloss into her purse and closed it with a snap.
“These shoes are probably ruined from god knows what on the floor..” came a slight mutter, as she carefully stepped across the bathroom and pushed the door open. A rush of music meeting her ears, as opposed to the dull thud that she could hear through the bathroom walls. Well. If she was going to salvage the night at all, she could always resort to playing her favourite game; pulling apart every outfit she saw in her mind and thinking up ways to make the person look better… or just make fun of it. Of course, that game was always more enjoyable with Allana. Where was that girl? She had texted her almost an hour ago..
Making her way through the crowd, careful not to touch any of the sweaty bodies, Cecelia made it to the bar. Where she glanced down, moving to put her clutch down on the surface, saw how disgusting it was, and had second thoughts. Instead she held it in her hand. “Vodka Martini with a twist.” She ordered. Not caring she had ordered over someone else.
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Post by bella on Feb 3, 2009 20:37:06 GMT 10
boys will be boys, baby. Now this was just delicious.
Prescott Kingsley often frequented Trinity, even if all he was after was a drink; which was never the case. Though he much preferred the crowded nightclub to a beer at a deserted bar and the first okay looking prostitute he could locate. Therefore, Prescott found himself seated at the bar of the Seattle hot spot with increasing frequency. He was only twenty, though he and the bartender had an unspoken agreement. However, if they were to make the arrangement oral, it would go something like, your tips make you look twenty one.
Presently, Prescott sat with a vodka on the rocks in his right hand, and faced his body toward the brunette who had just appeared at his side. He rather liked to think of it as 'fell into his lap', but that remained to be seen. This particular freshman girl had given him a bit of trouble on previous occasions. But he still had time...and he was determined. Which roughly translated to Cecelia Reese has no chance.
Prescott leaned back, and made a show of raking his eyes over Cecelia's body. A satisfied and antagonistic smirk played on his lips as he said, "Well, darling, my evening just got a hell of a lot better." He brought his glass of vodka to his lips and sipped generously, before turning casually to the bartender and told him, "put mademoiselle's drink on my tab, eh?"
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Post by cecelia emerson reese . on Feb 4, 2009 11:14:47 GMT 10
never had a b a c k s t e e t guy
Just perfect. Absolutely Amazing. And yes, that was sarcasm. Of course she should have expected this. What night from hell would be complete without a visit from Satan’s little lap dog? The lord above, the sadistic spirit that it was, must really hate Cecelia Reese. Sending down not only the horror of the unclean bar, but the stench of pompous pig to go with that. Then, did god have control over Satan’s minions? Cecelia wasn’t so sure. Good thing she had little faith in god, or she might have dwelled on that thought for longer then needed.
The brunette turned to face the viscount. Of course, that little tasty morsel of information still remained un-known to Cecelia. Perhaps if she did know, she may have felt differently about Prescott. Or perhaps not. He was still an arrogant, foul excuse for a man. Title or no title. “Oh?” She feigned a polite smile. “Your night got better did it? Did the syphilis finally clear up?” She smiled benignly. “Oh I’m so happy for you. You can go back to your rigorous date rape schedule.” She let her eyes glance around the bar. “Who’s the badly dressed victim tonight? I saw a girl just now in a horrid sparkly number who looked so drunk she might just fall for your charms. You could probably save yourself a roofie with her.”
Now, Cecelia Reese had been taught by her mother, that it was never a good idea to deny a male when he offered to pay for something. No matter who the male was. True, it was good to be an independent woman, but it was not only impolite but not very lady-like to deny an offer like the one Prescott was offering. The trick was to accept the offer but deflect anything the man may want in return. She was sure that in Prescott’s case, offering to buy drinks was all part of his mating dance. She was also sure she could comfortably deflect any advances the man may make on her.
Besides, if he was going to be hanging around like a bad smell, he may as well make it worth her while. The only way she’d be able to make it through this whole horrid night was with a few more martinis. “In that case..” Cecelia smiled at the bar-tender and she picked up her glass, downing the drink in one, before lowering the glass once more. “I’ll have another.” Licking her bottom lip, catching a drip of the liquid she had just downed on her tongue, Cecelia turned her attention back to Prescott. “Was there a reason you came over here?”
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