The man in black studied the stage with only passing interest. He had seen many of these... kinds of places in the past, and had never really had a taste for them. To be truthful, he scarcely saw the point. The only thing about this den of debauchery that interested him was the creature that strutted about playfully, if a tad warily, on it's stage. His concealed eyes followed her where ever she went, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself when her gaze fell on him and she missed a step as a result.
Had he really done such a number on her to make her so nervous? Another chuckle forced his off kilter grin to broaden into a smirk, great billows of cigar smoke rolling out of his nostrils and slithering from the gaps between his teeth. I wonder... he thought as he tipped back on two legs, throwing his head back, the chair groaning in protest beneath his bulk, How would she react if I pulled her aside for a private dance? He took a massive draw from his cigar and ashed it's cherry red tip onto the carpet beside him.
The idiotic DJ was ranting and raving in that way DJ's at these places often do, and the man in black couldn't resist the urge to look at the stage one last time. His eyes, hidden as they were, still locked onto her's, the one he had come to see, and she stopped dead in her tracks, as if his gaze somehow paralyzed her. His chest shook in a silent chuckle and she came back to reality, collected her things and hurried off stage. Letting his head droop back, the man in black contemplated his next move as cigar smoke continued to roil in his lungs.
And then he heard it.
Only one word of the DJ's inane babble reached his ears, and even then he wasn't sure he heard it right.
Hilde?
A torrent of smoke escaped in one massive jet as the man in black sat forward in his chair. Could it be THAT Hilde? his mind raced. Watching the stage again, it was now that he realized the bouncer was aware of his presence and keeping tabs on him. No real danger, but it never paid to dismiss even small details. The anticipation made him bit giddy as he waited along with the crowd for the sequined curtain to part.
And then it did.
And there she was.
And the man in black could only laugh quietly as he read her lips. Now, this is quite a development, he thought.
At first, Hilde didn't move, even though her song had already started. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself gesturing broadly to the statue of a girl as if to say "Don't stop on my account". With that, she jerked to life and began dancing shortly after.
She was hardly a poor dancer, but it was clear she was a novice as well. And if he had said that she wasn't at all attractive, he would have to confess himself a liar. But as pleasant as the view was, in the back of his thoughts he knew her presence had just made things a lot more complicated, and almost certainly more dangerous.
She continued to dance around one of the poles on stage, eyes closed. She must really have been desperate to find me, he thought, almost wistfully. Just then her eyes drifted partway open and met his as she grasped the pole in front of her and moved her hips in a sort of oval motion. He found himself clapping appreciatively in spite of himself, a stupid grin creasing the corner of his mouth, cigar clenched in his teeth.
Suddenly, he felt an icy gaze fall on him. He grudgingly looked away from the spectacle on stage and saw the source of the fell wind. "Cynderella", as she was apparently calling herself now, was staring at him beyond menacingly from the far end of the club. Hilde's pleasant display faded from memory and his face became hard. The headline act stared through him and there was anger in her gaze, but as always, it was not alone. Fear was there as well, so strong and rich he could taste it from here.
As she continued to seeth in his general direction, he motioned toward the stage with his head, then pointed first at Cynderella, then at Hilde on stage. Then he raised his eyebrows briskly and made a kissy face at Cynderella. Suddenly the fear was gone, and full blown rage replaced the other emotions as well. Her reaction forced him to laugh aloud, a great booming, rumbling laugh that shook the table. He leaned back, took a final drag from his cigar, ordered a rye whiskey from a passing waitress, and set his mind to the task of ignoring the enraged dancer across the room for the remainder of Hilde's most captivating dance.
His drink arrived and he downed it, ice and all. Quite the development, indeed.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Haakon: Intro Part 3
Mere minutes earlier, behind the glittering curtain and in a secluded corner of the dancer's dressing room where the grim realities of Exotic Dancing really came home to roost, the Sister was standing in front of a vanity checking the mask she had applied a few moments earlier. She wistfully recalled the last time she had put on so much makeup at once. As a young girl of barely 13, she had stolen away into her older sister's room and raided her makeup kit, intent on snagging the attention of a boy she had a crush on. When her sister caught her, she was mad at first, but when she learned the inspiration for the trespass, she helped her rather than scold her. The makeup tips didn't do much for the boy she was crushing on, but they had done wonders for her relationship with her sister.
But that was before... It felt like a lifetime past.
Now she was here, in the dressing room of a strip club for which the word "dive" was an apt descriptor, hearing the hooting of patrons and the pounding of bass speakers as she strained to recall those same makeup tips. While they had not been a staggering success in their initial foyer, she couldn't deny the fact that they had a better chance of helping her look the part now.
As that thought struck her, she looked once again at her outfit, and was reminded of the process that had put her in it.
When she had first worked out a deal with the owner to work undercover here, which sounded hilarious even as she thought it, Hilde had been introduced to Alison, the star of the show, so to speak. She had looked very different when they met than she did when she headed onto the stage just moments ago, but no less gorgeous. The owner had asked her professional opinion on Hilde and if she could help teach her the ropes. Alison had walked slowly around her and examined her form from every angle before hanging her arm over Hilde's shoulders and announcing "Oh yeah, boss. She'll fit right in." In the remembering now, Hilde couldn't help but blush as she recalled Alison's warm breath on her neck.
She shook her head violently for a second, hardly the response she should be having to that memory. Then she remembered her hair, highly styled and arranged with barrettes, now slightly off kilter. Silently reprimanding herself, she worked to get her hairdo back in line with her outfit.
Alison had picked out the outfit she was wearing. As they perused the clothing rack in the dressing room, she had ignored a number of conservative and complicated outfits that Hilde felt she would have been more comfortable with.
"Those are Pro level, Lamb. You have to know your stuff to make those really sexy. You are new to this, and given your... disposition" Hilde remembered Alison laughing melodically at that point, a sound that had made her shiver slightly as they stood there in dressing gowns and little else. "You had better make it easy on yourself, go with a classic. Mind you, doll, you can't make it too easy. Jump on stage in a g-string bikini and you wont get far with these gents." Hilde could only gape, open-mouthed, as Alison examined progressively smaller articles of clothing. "Aha!" she held up what looked like a cross between a catholic or perhaps Japanese schoolgirl uniform and the kind of gothic dresses that filled Alison's personal clothes rack.
"Perfect" Alison Chirped as Hilde struggled to form words in protest.
Yet here she sat in that very outfit, stacked heel school shoes and all, only moments from her debut performance. She'd spent most of the day before the Lacquer Shack opened practicing under Alison's watchful eye. After her training regimen had ended, Alison clapped excitedly and the tone of a proud parent seeped into her voice. "Very good, lamb! Not bad for a true beginner." As Hilde had straightened up and started collecting her clothes, Alison's voice became sexually charged. "You certainly got my motor running, beautiful. And if it worked on me, it's sure to work on the customers." Hilde recalled how, in spite of being flushed from dancing and being nude in front of a relative stranger, Alison's comments had managed to make he blush even harder, casting her glance away from her mentor and studying the ground.
Alison picked up on it. "Oh, poppet, I'm sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm so used to just speaking my mind in this place."
Now it was Hilde's turn to feel slightly bad. "It's... It's okay, really." She looked back at Alison, who now had a sisterly look on her face. "Are you a, Uh..." Alison's lips curled into a badly concealed smirk as she had fumbled with a simple word. "I mean, it doesn't bother me either way, just curious if you were a..." Again she failed to just say it, but Alison laughed sweetly as she said it for her.
"A Lesbian?" All Hilde could manage was a nod as Alison beamed at her, almost adoringly. Or had she imagined that? "No I wouldn't say that." Hilde couldn't help but breath a tiny sigh at this, but it didn't last. "I believe the proper term for it is Pansexual or Omnisexual?" Alison's frankness about her personal life was refreshing, if a bit unsettling at first. She seemed to pick up on Hilde's discomfort and, in one quick motion, she jumped on stage and had her in a reassuring hug, a hand on the back of her head and her chin resting on top.
"Don't you worry, Lamb. You'll do just fine, in this and anything that follows"
As if the memory and subsequent blush on Hilde's cheeks back in the now had summoned her, Alison, or Cynderella as she was known when she was working, burst into the dressing room, still mostly nude. "You ready?" Alison stood her up, looked her up and down and, like a craftsman boasting about his wares, she said "You look good enough to keep all to myself!" Hilde could not deny the sudden rush of nervousness she felt now that it was zero hour. As always, Alison picked up on her jitters and pulled her close, whispering softly in her ear "You can do this" before planting a light, loving kiss on her cheek. Hilde's worries melted away like snow in summer as Alison spun her around, pointed her towards the stage and unceremoniously slapped her on the ass. "I'll be out there in the crowd to check on you shortly." The inane babble of the DJ announcing her and the beginning of a metal cover of Losing My Religion were the last things she sensed before the curtain opened.
At the instant the curtain drew back, she saw him.
And he was looking right at her, a drink in his hand, a cigar in his teeth and a grin on his lips.
"Fuck Me!" she heard herself say.
But that was before... It felt like a lifetime past.
Now she was here, in the dressing room of a strip club for which the word "dive" was an apt descriptor, hearing the hooting of patrons and the pounding of bass speakers as she strained to recall those same makeup tips. While they had not been a staggering success in their initial foyer, she couldn't deny the fact that they had a better chance of helping her look the part now.
As that thought struck her, she looked once again at her outfit, and was reminded of the process that had put her in it.
When she had first worked out a deal with the owner to work undercover here, which sounded hilarious even as she thought it, Hilde had been introduced to Alison, the star of the show, so to speak. She had looked very different when they met than she did when she headed onto the stage just moments ago, but no less gorgeous. The owner had asked her professional opinion on Hilde and if she could help teach her the ropes. Alison had walked slowly around her and examined her form from every angle before hanging her arm over Hilde's shoulders and announcing "Oh yeah, boss. She'll fit right in." In the remembering now, Hilde couldn't help but blush as she recalled Alison's warm breath on her neck.
She shook her head violently for a second, hardly the response she should be having to that memory. Then she remembered her hair, highly styled and arranged with barrettes, now slightly off kilter. Silently reprimanding herself, she worked to get her hairdo back in line with her outfit.
Alison had picked out the outfit she was wearing. As they perused the clothing rack in the dressing room, she had ignored a number of conservative and complicated outfits that Hilde felt she would have been more comfortable with.
"Those are Pro level, Lamb. You have to know your stuff to make those really sexy. You are new to this, and given your... disposition" Hilde remembered Alison laughing melodically at that point, a sound that had made her shiver slightly as they stood there in dressing gowns and little else. "You had better make it easy on yourself, go with a classic. Mind you, doll, you can't make it too easy. Jump on stage in a g-string bikini and you wont get far with these gents." Hilde could only gape, open-mouthed, as Alison examined progressively smaller articles of clothing. "Aha!" she held up what looked like a cross between a catholic or perhaps Japanese schoolgirl uniform and the kind of gothic dresses that filled Alison's personal clothes rack.
"Perfect" Alison Chirped as Hilde struggled to form words in protest.
Yet here she sat in that very outfit, stacked heel school shoes and all, only moments from her debut performance. She'd spent most of the day before the Lacquer Shack opened practicing under Alison's watchful eye. After her training regimen had ended, Alison clapped excitedly and the tone of a proud parent seeped into her voice. "Very good, lamb! Not bad for a true beginner." As Hilde had straightened up and started collecting her clothes, Alison's voice became sexually charged. "You certainly got my motor running, beautiful. And if it worked on me, it's sure to work on the customers." Hilde recalled how, in spite of being flushed from dancing and being nude in front of a relative stranger, Alison's comments had managed to make he blush even harder, casting her glance away from her mentor and studying the ground.
Alison picked up on it. "Oh, poppet, I'm sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm so used to just speaking my mind in this place."
Now it was Hilde's turn to feel slightly bad. "It's... It's okay, really." She looked back at Alison, who now had a sisterly look on her face. "Are you a, Uh..." Alison's lips curled into a badly concealed smirk as she had fumbled with a simple word. "I mean, it doesn't bother me either way, just curious if you were a..." Again she failed to just say it, but Alison laughed sweetly as she said it for her.
"A Lesbian?" All Hilde could manage was a nod as Alison beamed at her, almost adoringly. Or had she imagined that? "No I wouldn't say that." Hilde couldn't help but breath a tiny sigh at this, but it didn't last. "I believe the proper term for it is Pansexual or Omnisexual?" Alison's frankness about her personal life was refreshing, if a bit unsettling at first. She seemed to pick up on Hilde's discomfort and, in one quick motion, she jumped on stage and had her in a reassuring hug, a hand on the back of her head and her chin resting on top.
"Don't you worry, Lamb. You'll do just fine, in this and anything that follows"
As if the memory and subsequent blush on Hilde's cheeks back in the now had summoned her, Alison, or Cynderella as she was known when she was working, burst into the dressing room, still mostly nude. "You ready?" Alison stood her up, looked her up and down and, like a craftsman boasting about his wares, she said "You look good enough to keep all to myself!" Hilde could not deny the sudden rush of nervousness she felt now that it was zero hour. As always, Alison picked up on her jitters and pulled her close, whispering softly in her ear "You can do this" before planting a light, loving kiss on her cheek. Hilde's worries melted away like snow in summer as Alison spun her around, pointed her towards the stage and unceremoniously slapped her on the ass. "I'll be out there in the crowd to check on you shortly." The inane babble of the DJ announcing her and the beginning of a metal cover of Losing My Religion were the last things she sensed before the curtain opened.
At the instant the curtain drew back, she saw him.
And he was looking right at her, a drink in his hand, a cigar in his teeth and a grin on his lips.
"Fuck Me!" she heard herself say.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
This is not like me, but I've got to say it...
So... I'm going to level with you all. I've been a little depressed of late (I'm sure some have picked up on it). Everything in my life these days feels a little... aimless. Like I could be living a completely different life if I had just made just a few decisions differently or been more assertive over the years. I've always been pretty okay with the fact that I'm on my own most of the time, that I have trouble connecting with new people, but I've been feeling more acutely alone lately. I think, as awesome as they are and as cool as the community at large is, the friends I've picked up in The Tadpool have made what I've been missing out on more... tangible. Not to mention that between the perpetually-single-guy's least favorite holiday and the anniversary of one of the most painful experiences of my adult life, the month of February is always a challenge.
I've been spending a lot of time with a certain Visual Novel lately, and that has done a lot to shake the cobwebs. More than just the story itself, but the fact that this well crafted, well written piece of work that has been so diverting was made by a group of fans of the media. Passionate people who were not seeking Money, fame or Recognition, but who were doing it because they loved the project and the medium. It's made me realize how much I've held back out of fear of the consequences, and how doubt has stopped me from really pursuing any of the things I'm passionate about. I used to Draw all day, I used to write simply for the joy of putting something into words. I never really got into making music myself, but I've always been passionate about it. My teachers always told me I had a good voice, but I never really bought it. There was a lively music scene in my hometown when I was growing up that I could have easily been a part of if I had just tried. Hell, there still is to some extent, from what I hear. I have talents, but I lack drive to exploit them, in part because I'm worn down by day to day life and in part because I didn't leverage them when I was younger.
I can't shake the feeling that this is sounding like any of a million "Oh Poor Me, my life sucks" blog posts that choke the internet these days. The difference, I feel, is that most of those are teenagers who have just not found themselves yet, and don't realize that at their age, they shouldn't be expecting to. With 30 years on the clock and still meandering aimlessly, and not having had such a crisis in my formative years, I feel slightly more justified in my feelings of urgency.
But with all that said, and in spite of my current emotional state, I've been feeling pretty hopeful of late. Thanks in no small part to the circle of friends I've gained through the Tadpool and the Frogpants network, I've felt inspired to do more with the precious time I've been given. I've already been looking into getting back out into the community more locally as well, including an anime club and some singles meet and greet kind of events. But most of all, the idea of actually making my idea for a podcast a reality has been like a breath of fresh air. I may not be able to get "Anything With Subtitles" off the ground right away, as I have a lot to learn about the technical side of producing a show, but it's a goal to shoot for, and one that I can feel that old school passion for.
It's funny, I feel so much better just having written this down and given form to the anxiety that has been rattling around in my head lately. I really feel like I'm finally ready to move forward, a feeling I haven't really experienced much since around Junior High. I'm tired of getting by, I'm ready to start getting over.
I don't even know if I'm going to post this anywhere, but if anyone reads this, I'll be needing all the encouragement I can get to keep out of the rut I've been in, and thanks in advance (is it a sign of the headspace I'm in lately that that last part sounded likeYoroshiku Onegaishimasu in my head as I typed it? hehe)
I've been spending a lot of time with a certain Visual Novel lately, and that has done a lot to shake the cobwebs. More than just the story itself, but the fact that this well crafted, well written piece of work that has been so diverting was made by a group of fans of the media. Passionate people who were not seeking Money, fame or Recognition, but who were doing it because they loved the project and the medium. It's made me realize how much I've held back out of fear of the consequences, and how doubt has stopped me from really pursuing any of the things I'm passionate about. I used to Draw all day, I used to write simply for the joy of putting something into words. I never really got into making music myself, but I've always been passionate about it. My teachers always told me I had a good voice, but I never really bought it. There was a lively music scene in my hometown when I was growing up that I could have easily been a part of if I had just tried. Hell, there still is to some extent, from what I hear. I have talents, but I lack drive to exploit them, in part because I'm worn down by day to day life and in part because I didn't leverage them when I was younger.
I can't shake the feeling that this is sounding like any of a million "Oh Poor Me, my life sucks" blog posts that choke the internet these days. The difference, I feel, is that most of those are teenagers who have just not found themselves yet, and don't realize that at their age, they shouldn't be expecting to. With 30 years on the clock and still meandering aimlessly, and not having had such a crisis in my formative years, I feel slightly more justified in my feelings of urgency.
But with all that said, and in spite of my current emotional state, I've been feeling pretty hopeful of late. Thanks in no small part to the circle of friends I've gained through the Tadpool and the Frogpants network, I've felt inspired to do more with the precious time I've been given. I've already been looking into getting back out into the community more locally as well, including an anime club and some singles meet and greet kind of events. But most of all, the idea of actually making my idea for a podcast a reality has been like a breath of fresh air. I may not be able to get "Anything With Subtitles" off the ground right away, as I have a lot to learn about the technical side of producing a show, but it's a goal to shoot for, and one that I can feel that old school passion for.
It's funny, I feel so much better just having written this down and given form to the anxiety that has been rattling around in my head lately. I really feel like I'm finally ready to move forward, a feeling I haven't really experienced much since around Junior High. I'm tired of getting by, I'm ready to start getting over.
I don't even know if I'm going to post this anywhere, but if anyone reads this, I'll be needing all the encouragement I can get to keep out of the rut I've been in, and thanks in advance (is it a sign of the headspace I'm in lately that that last part sounded likeYoroshiku Onegaishimasu in my head as I typed it? hehe)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)