A Touch of Satin
| A Touch of Satin | |
|---|---|
| Players | Auburn Gresham Kumanhi's Debut at Satin (NSFW) |
It's thirty minutes into Kumanhi's shift at the softer side of Satin and Savagery, and it's taken nearly that long for one of the other dancers to apply mascara and eyeliner to him in the dressing room. The theme tonight seems to be soft R&B and leather, a lot of the servers sporting leather chaps, collars, or small matching accessories. Waiting for his time on stage, Kumanhi makes the rounds, facilitating private dances or stopping here and there to talk discreetly with customers. Dressed in a thin, leather Tang suit top, and long silk pants, he seems dressed rather modestly compared to some. Spotting Cumani in the crowd, he lays a hand on the shoulder of an older gentleman he's been flirting with, murmuring to himself, "Toss out chum, and you're gonna have sharks." He can't help but smirk while plotting a course around the bar towards her in his mind, wearing the blush of life for all the mortal eyes in the crowd, and so finding his heart fluttering in anticipation of his first set for the night. Clad in black silk and hammered gold discs, Cumani's taken up residence at a table near the stage, iridescent eye makeup on point and well matched to the feathers attached with little clips into her hair to match her earrings. When she crosses her legs, one lacy pantleg droops in a loose billow over the other leg, the belled anklet only audible to the sharpest of ears when her foot shifts, beneath the music. Arms crossing beneath her breasts, one hand lifts to rest her chin on her upturned palm. She doesn't even favor most of the dancers with the pretense of attention, instead texting relentlessly on her phone through routines. She keeps lifting a white russian to wet her lips like she's actually drinking it for some reason. Sparing glances at Kumanhi's circuitous approach out the corner of her eye moment by moment between them. ... And a relative newcomer walks in. Though, judging by some of the familiar glances from a few of the dancers and the smiles on their faces, she's been in here at least once before, Paige is all smiles. She's dressed up a little -- as usual, it will turn out -- though perhaps more on the edge of what one might find in the other half of the clubs, asymmetrical leather exposing plenty of skin on one (1) thigh and one (1) shoulder, opposite each other, with a tight bodice and a skirt with jagged edges complimenting her tall boots. She doesn't walk to the stage, though, instead walking directly toward the sound systems, an inquisitive look on her face as she slips around behind one and spends a moment looking at the setup, her head lifting now and again to watch the show regardless, even as one arm crosses at her waist and the other hand goes to her chin, a long, delicate thumb stroking at the point as she looks everything over. Finding his way through the crowd, Kumanhi eventually sidles up to Cumani's table, flashing her a bright smile. "Hello, sister." There's a sharp bite to his words, though he's wearing a playful smile. Leaning a hip against her table, he politely asks, "Can I get you a drink, or a table dance before my set?" His grin widens and he moves immediately to more intimate talk, tone becoming genuinely flirtatious, "Of course I get my first shift and find you in the crowd, watching." There's a quick glance towards the stage and he confides in her, leaning in and whispering, "I'm going to dance to NERD's 'Lapdance', that one song Queenie showed us in the limo." Quirking a brow in mild surprise, the taller of the twins dips a hand into his thin, tearaway silk pants, checking his vibrating phone, "Oh." Fiametta glides onto the floor from the dressing room, apparently on to work the floor, based on her attire. A dress of sheer ivory is one shouldered, the hemline hitting just below the tops of her thighs. Only the pattern of embroidery gives any hint of modesty, with a cascade of writhing snakes falling from her shoulders, coiled about her breasts and lower back, another settled at her hips. The surprisingly intricate embroidery has little crystaline beads studding the reticulated patterns of the snakes, and the snake that guards her hips is coiled around a small copper-and-rose-gold threaded apple that covers just enough at the juncture of her thighs that any well meaning licensing board inspector that might wander in couldn't find a technical violation, even if it does rather draw the eye to a certain location. Her hair is left to tumble where it wills, though there's little threads of sparkling beads woven in to add a hint of flash to her bright hair when the light hits them just right. Clear platform heels give the illusion that she's walking on air, a certain confident sway to her steps. Her expression isn't unfriendly, though it is dreamy, perhaps just a little remote. But that's just how some in the crowd might like it. When she spots Kumanhi in the crowd, she offers a brief smile and a finger-waggle wave. And when she sees Paige checking out the sound system, her smile sparks into something brighter. Speaking of newcomers, this must be the evening for them. Dante stands in the relative entrance of the club for a long moment, taking in the atmosphere. His look is a mix of curiosity and taking in the environment. Indeed a well-dressed tourist here. It's the bar for him, making his way to the large structure to continue taking in his new surroundings, adjusting the jacket of his dark tailored suit as to not wrinkle or pull as he takes up a spot, and orders a drink. "Like I'd miss this for /anything/," Cumani says, promises that might have led one to believe different be damned. "You know me, left unattended, I always find trouble." She winks playfully up at Kumanhi, and pulls out a wad of twenties, apparently having forgotten to grab singles? Or else not having cared to get them. Her eyes drift off toward Fiametta as she spots the embroidery and beadwork in its serpentine patternwork, quietly appreciative, if lacking a certain voracious quality. Her eyes drift over the apple and the serpent, then back again, before glancing to Kumanhi again. "Oh, that's going to be perfect, if not so humorous as the audition song, the energy I think is a lot... better?" She nods at the question of a dance, before her eyes follow to the phone, "Oh?" echoing his own words, after a glance is spared to Paige and her inspection of the sound system, lingering on the jagged leathers with some vague curiosity and mild interest, before the question of the phone brings her attention back to closer to her table. Once she's taken her assessment of the sound system, there's a brief, satisfied nod from Paige and she settles herself in front of the podium. It seems she has no intention of touching or changing anything that is going to be playing tonight -- there will be plenty of other nights for that, and none of her demeanor really speaks to being on the clock at the moment, after all. Instead, she leans back against it, staking a claim clear as anything, and her eyes drift to watch Fiametta as she walks up toward the stage, the smile being brightly returned by the blonde as she remarks casually to Dante when he walks past her: "I do think we might just be in for something special in a moment. Isn't she just delicious?" Dante's snazzy suit draws the firey-haired young woman's eye, and she looks him over with more direct curiousity than lowered-lashes coquettishness, some of the dreaminess sharpening. But Fiametta's smile remains, a little gleam in the dim lights--and she doesn't approach yet, allowing the man to get settled and enjoy the atmosphere for the present, especially as the stage seems to be clearing for another dancer. She's certainly dressed to dance, but for the moment she remains strictly on the floor, stopping here and there to visit with some of the people that have already become regulars at the newly opened club. Her gaze lingers on Paige too, as she holds her space. Perhaps with just a little downturn of her lips as it appears she won't take over just yet, but it's quickly brushed away with a little finger-waggle towards her as well. In response to Cumani's assessment of herself, her brother Kumanhi can't help but agree, "That's entirely too accurate, still... I wouldn't have been nervous if you weren't watching." He casts his gaze over the crowd, the popular club still full at this hour, a rising star in Chicago. Yet, they were almost all mortal, a few rare exceptions, so the jaded Daeva couldn't find a need to impress them anywhere inside himself. Sliding away the phone, he explains, "Just another connection, someone who found my numbers or my calls and wants to organize. We'll talk later.." He glances up, as if to indicate his song is almost on the speakers. He leans in to kiss her temple, then steps off towards the stage, mentally rehearsing his steps. On the way, he grabs a beer bottle off a table and sets it on the edge of the stage, before ascending the stairs at the back of it, lights off and giving him a curtain of darkness to prepare in. Kumanhi whispers “Wish me luck. Thanks for coming” Cumani whispers “Good luck. Not that you need it.” to Kumanhi. "Oh, I can't wait." With a wide, toothy smile, Dante notes, lifting his drink towards Paige - before his attention returns to Fiametta's outfit as she moves from place to place. People watching the club in general, his gaze moves about watching the smaller gatherings - trying to get his bearings of the club. It's a lot to take in! "I'm surprised it took me this long to find this one." Before taking a quick sip of a dark spirit from his delivered glass. "But now that I know... I think I may have found a new spot." Dante's words are towards Paige - though his voice dies down as the lights dim. "Go on, git," Cumani urges after Kumanhi, with a chuckle at his agreement, nodding at talk or conversing later about whatever's happening with his phone. Her attention drifts to Dante in a brief, curious study, eyes tracking the entrance and exit of each new person in brief asides. It's not hypervigilance! She turns her attention stageward when it goes dark. She nods, though, at Paige's comment about seeing something special tonight, though with the drift of her attention one might guess they are speaking of different parties. She pulls a few twenties loose in anticipation, before sparing another appreciative glance at Fiametta's serpentine beadwork costuming. She lifts the white russian, wetting her lips, the actual level of the drink never quite lessening in her glass. "Oh, not her," Paige realizes a little too late, brushing off with a laugh as she sees Kumanhi climb onto stage instead. A shift of her weight and she's standing straight, and a few steps later and she's next to the redheaded dancer, blue eyes focused on Kumanhi on stage instead, settling in to her new chosen spot as she smiles at Dante, giving him an approving nod, before leaning in to whisper something to the one beside her. The clientele of Satin seems to be more upscale than not--there's people who are dressed more for clubbing, others look like they could have easily stepped from a business or council meeting, still others in mostly nice street clothes--and occasionally a few people that look like they might be heading down to (or coming up from) the fighting club down below. A mix of ages and genders too. While there's no real food served in Satin, the house cocktails and liquor supplies are plentiful and excellently curated. Fiametta too watches in anticipation as Kumanhi moves off to get prepared to take the stage--and when she catches Cumani's eye she will offer a smile of greeting, even as she tilts her head to listen to Paige's words. The look Dante gives as Kumanhi and not Fiametta takes the stage is a surprise, yet excitement lingers. "Ah! Still! Exciting." The man notes, with a laugh, turning this glass between his fingers slowly as he watches the stage - those last few words to the aether as Paige moves on, and his attention returns to the stage. Catching Cumani's glance in his astute people-watching, he offers that wide smile in her direction. He's enjoying himself, here it seems. Lots to take in! Some prerecorded voice, in lieu of a live DJ for tonight at least, comes on over the speakers once the music dies, declaring in a quick-paced, deep-voiced flow, "Aaaaaalright ladies and gentleman, next up on stage is the fabulous Teddy! From the cage to the stage, he's all over Satin tonight, and for the right price can be all over yooouu. Give it up!" The song 'Lapdance' by NERD takes over the speakers, multicolored lights spinning into life across the stage, illuminating the seemingly modestly dressed Kumanhi going on as Teddy, dropping a whip and slipping out of his strappy sandals just in time to be hit by the brighter spotlight. As the raunchy, cocksure song bounces into life, so does 'Teddy', advancing across the stage with a confident swagger, slipping off his long-sleeved tang suit shirt to expose the slender musculature he's smuggled onto stage with his modest attire. Shirtless and flexing his abs as he walks, he leaps at the center stage pole to climb it barefoot, laying back into an upside down spin, eventually descending to the floor on his back, legs wrapped around the pole and thrusting his package up into the air as retro record scratching and sexy moans cover the soundwaves. He rolls like a serpent onto his stomach, popping up to his feet and snatching off his tearaway pants to reveal silk near-sheer boxers covering a small patch of his lithe, pale form. Offering Dante a polite nod when she catches herself being noticed, mostly Cumani pays attention to the stage. The excellently curated drink is almost lost on her, as she's not actually drinking it, but she's sure nursing it like she was. She hums along with the song, head nodding, apparently more than a little familiar with it as her eyes track after 'Teddy' across the stage, intent and sharp. She slips up out of her chair, and walks closer to the stage, the golden discs on her pants shivering with each rolling stride of her gait in a light-catching way. "First time?" Fiametta's words seem naturally soft spoken, perhaps at odd with the flashiness of her gold-kissed copper hair, as she directs them towards the newly settled Dante. "Hopefully it will be memorable." She winks at him. Maybe she would have said more, maybe not, but when the music starts up, all eyes are on the stage, including hers! She laughs, delightedly, once he starts dropping his suit and working the pole--though that silvery sound is likely drowned out by the volume and beat of the music. Her applause joins many others in the room when the tearaway pants are snatched-n-grabbed. At the table, Cumani tosses a trio of twenties on the stage, as she watches, humming along with the music, hips swaying subtly with the music. Music is starting, and it's likely not a surprise at this point when Paige swivels at the waist and her head immediately pivots to listen to a speaker, her head starting to bob gently along with the beat as fingers tap out a more complex rhythm on her forearm. When the pants come away, her attention is riveted back to the stage, and her lips purse into a sharp, approving whistle, taking a step in closer. Whatever was whispered between her and Fiametta, she gives her a nod of understanding, before sashaying her way a little closer to get a better view of the performance. At the table, Kumanhi Kumanhi slaps his ass, causing the tight muscles to jiggle subtly. Strutting across the stage, it's clear he's rock hard. He shoots Cumani a look aside, squinting and snapping his teeth like an animal before he turns. At the table, Cumani whistles at Kumanhi, with raucous cheer at the snapping teeth, tossing more twenties at the bite, still humming along with the music and nodding her head with it, eyes following his figure like a hungry crocodile. Dante's attention turns to Fiametta, and she's offered a quick, distracted nod. "It's shaping up that way." He chuckles, "I love your outfit." The man notes casually before slipping quickly from his stool - making his way towards the stage with his drink in one hand and a fold of bills acquired from his jacket's inner pocket. He came prepared, at least, and makes his way closer to the stage and those who occupy near it. When the pole is ascended, Dante looks delighted. What a performance! Dante joins at a table near the main stage Not entirely nude, Kumanhi strolls his sweet ass towards the back of the stage, bending and twerking for a brief five seconds as he snatches up the whip, returning to the center pole while lashing himself over each shoulder with the opposite step. When he cracks the short whip at the pole, it catches and he freezes, giving the crowd a dark, intense look, before rolling his head and hair around then swinging around the pole by the taut leather, ending up with his back to the ground and flexing his thighs in time with the music, swaying sharply from side to side rhythmically. Promises of threats and free lapdances echo through the music, his pumping and thrusting towards specific parts of the crowd timed to the steady, heavy bass. Spinning to face the crowd, he rushes towards the edge and slides on his knees towards the very edge, snatching up the beer bottle he left in order to stroke it obscenely, bouncing on his haunches and biting his bottom lip, deltoids tense with the unnecessary force of it. His attention on the big tippers, he's making dark promises with his eyes the laws just won't let him cash. The finer details of just what Cumani's doing at the stage probably aren't visible behind her. But the slow, continuous shedding of twenties as her head nods to the music definitely is. As is her proximity as close as she can possibly get to the stage, the nod of her head with the music, the tracking of it after 'Teddy's' movements. As with one hip, toe tapping in time with the music as she watches the one dancing to it. When she spots Dante off to the side, she flashes a smile in greeting. "Nice suit," she calls briefly over the music, before she goes back to tossing money at 'Teddy' as if it was burning a hole in her palm. She whistles softly for the performance as she throws money around, humming and seemingly having a grand old time, reaching out at one point to shove a wadded twenty into the mouth of that particular beer bottle as she makes eye contact with him. At the table, Kumanhi grins his stiff self against that cold beer bottle, thumbs teasing the lip of the bottle like he's living vicariously through it, the 'V' of his cumcutters flexing with each thrust towards the crowd, face wrought with ecstasy, as if there's something much too carnal happening on stage and he's enjoying it more than those watching. At the table, Cumani draws two fingers with a twenty wrapped around them back up the lower portion of Kumanhi's stomach to tuck it into his boxers, eyes still shark-sharp on him. "Thanks," Fi grins at Dante's compliment, but the smile truly lights her eyes once she sees him moving towards the stage AND prepared with some bills, and Paige is also drifting thataway. She lingers back, though her eyes still rest mainly at the man on the stage, adding to the crowd's adulation with some two-fingered wolfwhistles of perhaps surprising volume, when she can get away with it since everyone is transfixed by all that twerking on stage. She draws in a breath, her expression as blissful as another person's might be in a bakery with fresh hot tarts coming right out of the oven. For her own part, there's no dollars in Paige's hands -- perhaps she's greedy, or perhaps she simply forgot to get cash for this visit and the ATM is all the way over there and she's all the way over here. In either case, it leaves both her hands free for some delighted clapping at the movement of the Teddy against the beer bottle, her upper teeth catching her lower lip as a grin spreads across her face, followed by an excited whoop that escapes from her with a gleeful laugh, her hands clapping together once more. Seeing Fiametta coming back from behind her, she turns her head over her shoulder and leans to speak more quietly to her once more, though she seems reluctant to turn her head away from the show going on in front of her. Dante stops right at the edge of the stage himself. Cumani's words bring a sharp, toothy smile, and he bobs his head once - before his attention turns back to the stage again. When Teddy is in range? Dante's first bill is offered, and tucked away if allowed, encouraging the dancer on. It doesn't take long for him to get caught up in the show, the excitment, the crowd - and he's cheering himself, offering wolfish whistles and a steady stream of bills. Yes. He's going to enjoy this place. Fiametta laughs gently at what Paige says, her own gaze moving out over the crowd briefly, before returning to Teddy. Her expression is blissful, maybe even mildly buzzed, though she doesn't have a drink in her hand. She murmurs something back, impishly. The first song dies down, but the lights remain, the programmed script starting Ginuwine's 'Pony', and a majority of the crowd offers some kind of encouragement, more for the explicit vibe the song always inspires than widespread recognition of Teddy's talents. Still, there's a small puddle of bills accumulating from some clear fans, so Teddy has all the spotlight he needs to be spurred on through the next song. Pulling a bill from the mouth of his beer bottle prop with his teeth, he slides the bottle off between his legs, hands coming to lace behind his head, displaying his long, lean torso, writhing with the sensual song. With some simple but flashy arm movements, he turns his spinning rise from his knees into something decadent. Turning around for the crowd to display his backside, he grips the bulk of his boxers, tenses, and rips them clean off his form. Hanging from his clenched cheeks are the shredded remains of part of them, dangling like a little tail that he shakes from side to side, clearly planned though the effort belies his strength. When he finally unclenches, he drops into a brief squat, the momentum giving those watching a brief glimpse of hard rod before he pops out of the squat and strolls towards the back of the stage. Those on the periphery get some lucky views, but the couple minutes are over, and the lights are all too soon dimmed for him to recover clothing (or scraps thereof) before the next dancer. There's some wolf whistling from Cumani when Kumanhi goes strutting off, but the most notable part to those not close enough to get much eyeful of what was actually going on with her at stage is that the entire wad of twenties is gone by that point, one of them retrieved with teeth apparently, and at least one other shed to the stage with the ripped off boxers. She whistles for the departure of the other Bellecourt, before settling back in her chair and remembering to pretend like she's drinking that white russian again. God forbid she doesn't remember to pretend like she's drinking. There's one last whisper from Paige to Fiametta, and a broad wink follows it as she turns her head just in time to catch the goods fully, both hands lifting in the air and clapping over her head in earnest appreciation, waggling her brows toward him if he catches her gaze. With that, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out of her purse to look at it. "Ah, shit," she says with an overdramatic sigh. "My hotel just let me know if I don't check in soon, I'm out of a place to stay for the night. Gotta go," she says, her hand lifting in a wave as she starts walking to the door. The music fades, Kumanhi's performance ends, and Dante offers a loud round of applause, placing his drink on a table... Cumani's table, to do so without thinking. "That was amazing." He notes, clearly impressed. While he didn't go through all of his bills - there was so much left to see! - he did reduce his number of folded bills significantly. "Thank you, by the way. Love the look as well." Words are offered to Cumani finally, now that the excitement has died down and he retrieves his glass from the other's table. Oh yeah, this place is amazing. "See you soon," Fi calls out to Paige as she makes her way out--though once again that quiet voice might be easily lost in the crowd. By the time the lights come back on after being dimmed, though she's made her way back into the background of the crowd, just an occasional glimmer of serpentine crystal beads and bright hair as she once more makes the rounds. After gathering his clothes and tips, Kumanhi ducks into the dressing room briefly, while another dancer takes the stage, a busty woman, dark-skinned and platinum haired. Ducking back out, the Daeva stripper returns to the main room wearing a thin leather vest, a skinny tie, and tight, black leather boyshorts. Like any good salesman, he heads straight for the table of big-spenders, wearing an easy, impish grin, joining Dante and Cumani at a table near the main stage. He gives another finger wave to the departing Fiametta in her fine ass dress, before asking Dante and Cumani, "How are we doing tonight?" His tone is amused and playful, accent something vaguely southwest. "Thanks," Cumani says, aside, to Dante, before joining in the applause, the whistle her initial response as 'Teddy' walked off joined with applause when she sees others offering it, though the whistle was offered without pause or reserve. "Cumani," she offers, by way of introduction to him, lifting the drink to wet her lips again. "I miss being able to smoke inside," she complains, but doesn't look like she's old enough to drink, let alone to have been smoking that long ago. Alas. Maybe she's bluffing. She certainly doesn't spare overmuch attention to the redhead in the crystal beadwork as they weave off into the crowd to make rounds, instead glancing back toward the pole with an absent, thoughtful look for a beat, then flashes Kumanhi a grin as he approaches. "Hungry," she says, with a sly smirk. "You?" "Dante." The man notes, the toothy smile returning. "A pleasure to meet you." He looks curious at the comment about smoking inside - eyebrows raising and questions forming when the next dancer makes their way to the stage - stealing the question for the moment. A tablemate is gained for a few moments as Dante drains the last of his drink. "Your set was stunning." He offers to Kumanhi as they approach, glancing over the performer's outfit appreciatively. At the compliment, Kumanhi gains an inch of height or more, perking up and straightening his spin to further lift his chin, stretching like a cat being stroked and wearing a Chesire grin to boot. "'Stunning', thank you, hot stuff." Sharing a striking amount of qualities in common with Cumani, it's clear they're fraternal twins, but if it wasn't for the height difference, they could almost pass as identical twins. His gaze dips down to that empty glass of Dante's and he scoops it up, "Can I get you a refill, /sir/?" He punctuates the sentence with the title sensually, caught up in the mood of Satin and rolling easily with it. He slides his attention to Cumani, "You certainly found good seats, sis." He gives Dante's suit his own appreciate look, before asking, "What was your poison?" "Only the best," Cumani tells Kumanhi easily, tone wry but full of mirth. She nods aside at Dante, "It's a pleasure to meet you." She nods at his words to Kumanhi. "Teddy?" she asks, inquisitive, but not saying a word more on her thoughts about the chosen moniker. "I liked the first song better, myself, but the second one was certainly iconic enough." She asks Dante, aside, "Come here often? This is only my third visit." The title brings a broad smile - the expression becoming toothy, wicked almost. "Thank you. I was actually going to have the bartender surprise me with a house specialty." A beat. "Dante." The man offers to the performer before eyes move towards Cumani as she speaks. "I was just told about this place by someone the other day, told that I had to check it out. I'm glad I did. Chicago has such a plethora of amazing clubs. This one has to be at the top of my list now." Those words are smooth, almost rumbled, or purred; Pleased. Winking at Dante, Kumanhi slithers off into the crowd, leaving his sister without an answer as to why he chose the moniker 'Teddy' as his stage name, and leaving Dante to converse with her privately for a moment. Leather squeaking subtly in his wake, he leans against the bar to have words with the bartender, trading the empty glass for a new one. Only the keenest of ears could hear the words exchanged, but it leaves them both with a smile on their faces. Indeed, it's a night of pleasure and few are without a smile, Chicago's darkness held at bay in exchange for a more sensual, familiar darkness. "So you're from here?" Cumani asks Dante, the southwestern accent of Kumanhi's shared with her. "I only moved her a couple months ago. The clubs in Vegas were pretty special but this one I've found so far mostly to my tastes," she says, tone full of mirth to match the sparkle in her eye. "Then, I'll admit to have only really been out here and at the Pulse as clubs go, and that one's aimed less at stripping and more at plain dancing." Dante watches Kumanhi leave for a moment before turning to Cumani again. "From here? No. Missouri. I've been here a few weeks now. I've been sampling slowly, seeing what's /really/ interesting in the city. There are so many fake places, so many sheep. I've been on a mission to find spots where the atmosphere is. Different. While I have the time to do so." Returning with a Vieux Carre, a New Orleans style Manhattan with a slice of orange, Kumanhi deposits the drink on the table, telling Dante, "Your drink, sirrr." There's a teasing laugh that escapes his lips, and he's looking back and forth between Dante and Cumani, "Hey dolls, I got a few minutes before I have to mingle around and pretend to be working," and then, bluntly, he asks Cumani, "Find an interesting one?" His gaze swivels to Dante as he peppers the man with questions, "If you want a table dance, I can stay a little longer? How old are you? You look like a Bible salesman if the devil planned the marketing team, whaddya do?" He's standing on his tip-toes for some reason, leaning against the table and tracing a finger up and down his sternum. At the table, Kumanhi snakes a hand out, beneath the table, and gives his twin's hip a furtive squeeze. All the while, he's smiling brightly and listening, wearing a practiced expression of bubbly vacancy. At the table, Cumani definitely came just to watch Kumanhi, as she's paying less than no attention to whoever replaced him on stage, blowing him a kiss at the squeeze of her hip, with little care for any glances it might garner, few enough given the other entertainment going on anyhow. "Isn't every last one interesting, given the right circumstance?" Cumani asks Kumanhi, not giving up a thing. Her lips twitch in a wicked grin, and she lifts the white russian to them again. Surely if she was actually drinking it it wouldn't still look full, but she's putting in the motions to make it look like she is, completely unwilling to make herself sick later over it to sell it more convincingly now. "He's from Missouri," she offers helpfully, as she pulls out more money. Fancy! Dante's eyes light up at the presentation of the drink. He lifts it, looks at it momentarily, and offers Kumanhi a smile, "Thank you!" The man returns with a smile - before wetting his lips and sipping at the drink. Asked the barrage of questions, Dante smiles impishly, waiting for a break. "35. Entrepreneur. I'm opening a spot of my own. The Inferno. Music, Goth, BDSM. I'm out scouting the nightlife. Also. I'll buy a dance, absolutely." Taking his cue from the yes, and the money Cumani is already pulling out, Kumanhi starts dancing at their table, the majority of the crowd giving it up for the next dancer, Candy, a petite thing with bright hair. While stripping off his vest, 'Teddy' tells Dante, "35! Wow, you look younger, so... you got that going for you." The twins themselves, forever eighteen, have no right speaking of anyone's age. At least their appearance would suggest that. Hands over his head and talking over his shoulder as he gives the table a clear view of his wagging ass, he continues, "I'm an artist, my sister's more of the business type." SMACK, he slaps his ass, then flashes them both with a quick view of his pale moon, a red hand-print upon one cheek, before quickly spinning around to continue dancing. "Well you'll definitely have to come back when the place is open, get me an invitation to the VIP room." He offers a sly smile, then reaches over, dips a finger in Cumani's white russian, and sucks it clean, taking his sweat time, hips still gyrating. "Glad you both came... I gotta switch tables soon, my boss is watching." As a performance artist, bored with merely collecting all his favorite archetypes, playing a stripper is proving delightful to him. Even though he's acting, and purposefully falling into each of the usual tropes, his enthusiasm telegraphs as genuine love of the job. Making a show toward the bar of flashing the handful of twenties, as if to justify a more prolonged presence at the table for Kumanhi, Cumani proceeds to draw one of them low along his stomach with a wicked grin. "No, I just herd the business types working for me," she says, being faux modest, or else lying altogether perhaps, given their visible youth. Maybe it's a dotcom thing. She glances briefly off toward the name Candy, tensing /hard/ for half a beat before relaxing again, then asking Dante, "Really? A BDSM club? Well, it does seem to be a niche with local interest." The comment on age does in fact, bring a laugh. "Thank you." Dante offers, watching Teddy move as he sips his drink. Told that he'll have to move tables soon? Dante nods, understanding. "Oooh. The VIP room sounds fun. I look forward to the experience." The man near rumbles, pulling his own bills out in turn. Clearly he doesn't seem to mind keeping Teddy at their table for now. "That's good to hear!" Dante notes, attention turning to Cumani. "I'm looking to make a place for wolves. Cater to the wolves, and good, well-paying sheep will follow. They have plenty of fake places in this city to occupy." He notes. "I'm not advertising the opening; it'll be the very word of mouth, exclusive. The last thing I want to do is to be overrun by weekend warriors." Politely, but regrettably declining the extra cash, 'Teddy' tells Dante, "I'm here a lot, and sometimes I'm in the back." He nods towards the bar, "You can ask the staff for some of us, if you can't find us on the floor." Swiping Cumani's full drink to take a deep swig of it himself, daring himself to purge it later, he passes it back to her, then points over the bar, "I've got a shift in the cage. Goodniiiiight!" He finger waves over his shoulder as he wanders off towards the discreet stairs leading up to the iron-barred cage hanging from the ceiling, gearing up to shake his stuff for hours. Not really responding to the comment about wolves aside from a vague look of distaste at it, Cumani tells Dante, "It was nice to meet you, but I have a COO to go harass about whether or not our new bookkeeper is doing an adequate job." She pulls up to her feet and heads out toward the Foyer, eyes on Kumanhi's ass the entire way out. The entire way out. | |