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Post by MELANIE RAYANNE CLARKE on Oct 8, 2010 20:03:20 GMT -6
To say that Melanie was happy when her John for the night dismissed her early was a curse and a blessing in one. The man, a young business man, had bought her for the night as basically eye candy. She was the girl on his arm not anyone else in the VIP area of the club. She’d been bought for the night to make all the people he worked with jealous. At least, that’s what she’d been told the entire night. It wasn’t like with some of them who said she was pretty, no it was “God your sexy.” He was apparently in competition with his brother or something like that she hadn’t paid any attention at all. Still it looked as though the time had come for the wives and girlfriends to be dismissed as the boys talked politics.
Melanie could care less. Whatever it was that they were talking about didn’t matter to her one bit. Love between call girls and their Johns were rare and she’d never seen it happen in all the years that she’d been one. Pretty Woman was nothing but a movie and even Julia Roberts wouldn’t have found a businessman that would love her forever in Switchblade City. It just didn’t happen. If you were in Melanie’s situation you were nothing more than property, a girl to be bought and sold amongst the men in the town.
She set her drink back down on the bar, looking around at the people dancing and drinking within the building around her. The music pulsed and had she been drunker she probably would have joined them, twisting her body around those of the men in the club without even getting paid for it. But that would take a lot more alcohol than she currently had in her glass or in her system. She wasn’t in the mood to be used any more than she already had for the night.
Melanie stared forward, ignoring the looks that she got just for being out in public. People either knew her as a call girl or as the daughter of a state rep. Either acknowledgement got under her skin in two seconds flat and being stared out seemed to be the last thing that she wanted at the moment. But the alcohol was numbing her anger and drowning her system. She didn’t feel like yelling at anyone at that moment. She just felt like drinking it all away. She wasn’t Melanie: Ray Clarke’s daughter. She wasn’t Melanie the whore. She was just Melanie: another girl at the bar drinking her sorrows away. If only the man upstairs could see her now. She certainly didn’t look like some young business man’s girlfriend now.
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Post by CHARLES ADONIS REYNOLDS on Oct 8, 2010 20:56:57 GMT -6
The very least that could be said was that Charles hated being forced to do anything that he didn’t want to do. This little fact included being forced to go party, yes even when he needed to relax, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t let go once he was there. That’s how he was found later that night relaxing at a table with his friends laughing his ass off at some stupid joke his buddy made. Not that he knew that it was stupid, it made sense that it was funny at the time. Though as he downed his third glass of whatever he was drinking, he had to admit the room was doing a few spirals. Not only could he no longer see the dancers, but suddenly he felt a strong need to go outside. As soon as he tried to stand up, however, his buddy jerked him back down, almost pulling him to the floor with the strength of the jerk. “Where ya goin’, Char’es?” his friend slurred out with a odd look to his face, and Charles just shook his head slowly trying to clear his vision. “Jus’ getting’ some ai’” he said slurring himself, but this time when he got up no one stopped him just called out goodbye’s like he was leaving forever.
With an odd look back, he just stumbled out of the club like a complete drunk. With a smile at some girl waiting to get into the club, he wasn’t too surprised when she smiled shyly back. Maybe he was too drunk to filter how he was smiling, but he didn’t see the problem in smiling to a girl who looked super cute in what looked like a sun dress. It was white and it reached her knees. Walking up to her, he was kind of confused when he got closer and realized that her dress was actually a lot shorter than he’d first thought and her make up was a lot brighter. With a sudden loss of a smile, he realized the woman was actually a street walker, to put it nicely.
With a look of being grossed out, he saluted her slightly and turned back to the door with a smile towards the bouncer. The guy looked ready to laugh at Charles’s expression alone, maybe he was looking more confused than he originally thought, but with a smirk he walked by the guy who did a job much more like his than he would ever know. With a sigh, he slowly made his way back towards his table of friends, but stopped short of his seat. With a tip of his head, he looked at the dark haired girl sitting at the bar, and he debated being friendly for once in a long time. With a grin, he knew this would be the perfect excuse to ditch his overly sexual buddies. Explaining that he saw a hot chick at the bar that begged his attention, he almost laughed out loud with his friends let in and only whined that they hadn’t found anyone yet. With a snicker, he sauntered off to sit at the bar, taking his final drink with him. Would he drink the stupid and insane drink or not was quite another thing.
Taking a seat at the only available stool next to her, which just so happened to be right next to her, he took a sip of his drink. As he glanced around, he was rather unsure how to chat with this girl so randomly. The girl was just so pretty, though that could’ve been the unknown amount of alcohol in his system. Doubtful, but it was a thought. If it wasn’t the alcohol then this woman was seriously beautiful. With a random turn to look at her, he smiled at her. When she looked at him, he waved at her randomly. “Hi, you’re pretty, and….that sounded really bad. As you can tell, I’m kind of drunk, but this is not a pick up line so who cares?” he said waving his hand randomly at the bartender who was looking at him funny. With a shrug and smile towards her, he played with a drink a moment. “My name’s Charles, and you are? Since ya know I’ve rambled like a complete idiot now,” he said with a shake of his head like he was just now coming to this conclusion. Hopefully she wouldn’t be a bitch and shoo him away.
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Post by MELANIE RAYANNE CLARKE on Oct 8, 2010 21:20:29 GMT -6
Normally if anyone had approached her at the bar any other time she would have called him something that she couldn’t even think of at the moment and send him crawling back to his buddies like he’d been scorned by the last woman on Earth. Given a few drinks in her system though and anything was possible. The normally bitchy sober Melanie could fade instantly into a sugary-sweet kind Melanie. The Melanie that only her family saw in private came out to play under the influence of alcohol and the bitter Melanie curled up for a nice little nap. Some idiots should be glad for that, else the bar probably could have ended up fairly empty. Still she wasn’t that drunk yet, just a little to the point that she could feel a slight haze. Still a hazed Melanie was a nicer Melanie than a sober Melanie. That had to count for something right?
So when a man slid into the seat next to hers she didn’t pay much attention to him at all. She just stared at the liquid in her glass and swirled it around a little wondering why she’d said yes to this particular job. She hated playing girlfriend to some guy she’d never met before and his story that he’d come up with made her want to hurl. It was worse than we met at a bar, slept together, and two months later she was pregnant with my kid. Instead it was that she was his temp at work. Yes, the whole boss and sexy secretary theme. God, shoot her now! She absolutely hated guys who loved a good theme in their plays. If a guy couldn’t get it up unless there was a story behind it then what kind of a guy was he? Whipped?
The guy beside her called her pretty, which was actually a nice statement coming from someone who didn’t know what she did for a living. Melanie almost took it as a compliment until he said that he was drunk. Then she took it almost as an insult. Sneering into her drink she laughed with a cynical tone when he mentioned that it wasn’t a pick up line. She even had to hide her laugh in her drink when he mentioned that he’d made a complete fool of himself.
“My name’s Melanie,” she said after she’d successfully managed to contain her fit of giggles. “And honestly, making a fool of yourself is better than making an ass of yourself like that guy over there is.”
She pointed to a guy who was obviously striking out with a girl Melanie knew fairly well to be a member of the Cartel like her. She smirked into her drink as the girl looked disgusted and actually hit the guy with her purse before stalking out of the bar.
“Looks like he’s not getting lucky tonight.”
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Post by CHARLES ADONIS REYNOLDS on Oct 8, 2010 22:24:17 GMT -6
When he sat down next to the woman who half looked like a goddess, yes, he did expect to get shot down. Not that he was looking to get anything from her, he just more than half expected a woman to walk up to him and whine to him about how he stole her seat. Women were odd about stuff like that, steal their seat and they act like you just killed their mother or something equally horrible. It was really dumb how some women could be so dramatic over something so very trivial like a seat. Was it really so difficult to just go find another damned chair?! They seemed to have it in them to act as if their chair was the only chair they could sit in. It made him think that half the time, those times when he was extremely drunk, that the women would explode if they didn’t sit in THEIR chairs. The entire mental thought process went on as he sat there staring thoughtfully at his drink. Most would probably think, given his thoughtful expression, that he was thinking about something half worth thinking about. No, he was thinking about women blowing up over not getting to sit by their best friend and being made to sit by someone else.
With an internal sigh, he finally got up the balls to turn and talk to the woman seated oh so innocently beside him. It really wasn’t that he wanted anything from her, maybe for her to stop swaying in her seat as if she weren’t sitting at all. The thought was really odd. When he first noticed it, Charles wondered if she was dancing her seat, but then he realized she wasn’t moving at all. He realized that she wasn’t really moving when he noticed her swirling her drink about, and he knew that to do that, one really wouldn’t be also swaying. From what he could tell, she probably wasn’t that drunk. When he called her pretty she seemed to like that, but when he went on, he kind of frowned because she seemed to take offense to the fact he was drunk. Why she took offense he couldn’t quite put together in his head, but he just went on as if nothing was wrong.
Nodding to her name, he smiled and let her continue as he wondered what about what he’d said had been so funny. Was it the part where he’d said that it wasn’t a pick up line or the part where he knew he was making a fool of himself. By the point she went on, he felt a bit defensive because she laughed at him, and he wasn’t sure if she was laughing at him for spite or for fun or for both. That didn’t seem nice in his head, but then not everyone was nice, that much he knew more than he’d like.
With a tip of his head, he followed her motioning in the direction of a guy who was hitting badly on a woman, and he winced when the man got hit by a purse. Turning back to her, he gave her a confused look, but just took another drink of his drink with a snort. “For one, Melanie, I am not trying to get in your pants, unlike that guy, not counting the fact I probably wouldn’t fit anyway,” he joked badly, but went on with his explanation regardless of her desire to hear it or not. She asked for it by bringing up that idiot of a man, if that’s what that punk was.
“To be honest with you, I just wanted to meet ya, you’re pretty and I’m not exactly a local, so friends are a needed. Also if I wanted in your pants, I would be a whole lot nicer dressed, less drunk off my ass, and probably not rambling to you like I am now, ya know?” he asked with a smile, but just downed his drink as he finally successfully got out what he should’ve said at first. It should’ve been made obvious that sex wasn’t what he was after, he just wanted someone to talk to that wasn’t male and wouldn’t be all let’s be idiots and not talk about feelings ever.
“If I wanted to get lucky tonight, especially as bad as that guy, I would not be here,”
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Post by MELANIE RAYANNE CLARKE on Oct 9, 2010 10:52:42 GMT -6
Melanie’s gaze shifted back to her drink for a little while as she watched what was left of the amber liquid swirl in the glass in her hand. Her mind debated the pros and cons of finishing it off and asking for another against the idea of leaving the liquid stay there for a while. Pros for the first included numbness and the feeling of the alcohol burning her throat, cons included the fact that she’d be closer to being drunk than before. Pros for the second included that maybe she could at least focus on the conversation at hand and cons consisted of well all the pros of the first one. It was a daunting debate that split her mind between it and the conversation that she was having with the man sitting next to her. The outcome could honestly probably go either way.
Now the man next to her, despite his earlier mess ups of sounding like he was coming onto her and admitting that he was drunk after calling her pretty he actually seemed like a fairly good guy. He was, at least fairly, easy on the eyes to look at. He was tall, well at least taller than her, and, from what she could tell despite the clothes, he seemed at least a little fit. If he hadn’t been drunk she might have thought that she’d long since passed out on the bar. But since he was drunk he didn’t seem quite so perfect in her eyes at that moment. Just human.
A rare, public smile graced Melanie’s lips as the man, Charles he’d said, mentioned that he wasn’t trying to get into her pants. That was rare and a part of her wasn’t even sure if he was being completely honest when he said that. Deep inside of her she kind of wished that everything he was saying way true, still even deeper inside the mistrust that she had for people said that he was lying. She downed her drink in hopes of silencing that little nagging voice.
She nodded to the bar tender for another before laughing slightly at his attempt of a joke. It wasn’t the lamest joke she’d ever heard but it wasn’t the best either. As far as drunk jokes went it fell about average but at the moment it was actually funny.
“That’s refreshing to know,” she said, semi-bitterly when her drink came as she took another sip of the cruel liquid. He’d said that if he wanted to get laid he wouldn’t be there and although curiosity practically begged her to ask, bedside manner told her otherwise. “So what exactly brings you to this lovely establishment if it’s not to get laid like the rest of the male population?”
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Post by CHARLES ADONIS REYNOLDS on Oct 13, 2010 17:28:29 GMT -6
Though he did enjoy thinking, it was not why he’d been drug to the club in the first place. Charles Reynolds was drug to the club for the simple purpose of to loosen him up and help him get to know more people. Basically, his friends wanted him to get out more. Yes, they pretty much wanted him to get laid. Though he knew that they didn’t want him to hire someone, that much they knew very well he would never do. Now, would he sleep with a girl because she was beautiful and smart? Yes, that was easy enough to answer, and so he thought on tougher things. Would he sleep with a girl who was beautiful, smart, but still sold her body? That was a tougher question. Char wasn’t sure. As he thought on this, the bartender had somehow gotten around to both taking his empty glass and filling it up for him.
The girl next to him was a complete mystery to Charles. He didn’t know anything about her, well, besides her name. A name doesn’t tell him if she killed someone, hated her parents for no good reason, or was selling her body for the sake of it. Though, that was all out of his mind as he glanced at her. She was fairly…heavenly. Long dark hair, perfectly curved body, and solid waist. There was just something about a girl who actually held her weight that made Char want to wrap his arms around her. Those little models that seemed not to have anything on their body just completely turned him off. Sure, that’s what the world said was beautiful, but it just didn’t work for Char.
Then she did something so simple. Something that shouldn’t have been a huge deal. Melanie smiled, and he just wanted to kiss those lips. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he suddenly felt very far away from her. Leaning towards her a bit, he just smiled as she laughed a little. Sure her laugh didn’t seem very happy about what she was laughing to. He wasn’t sure what he’d said that could’ve caused that reaction, but he was lost in thought right away when she spoke up.
Did all women get hit on when they came to a bar or club? It made him wonder if all women came to bars, but were sent away by the slimy men that frequented them. Maybe Melanie was so used to guys sitting next to her to just hit on her until she either beat them with her purse, called the cops, or gave in to them. What a sad thing that sounded like. It was a plain sad way to spend any night of the week or weekend. Was today Monday or Friday?
Blinking, he turned his attention back on Melanie as she asked him a question. He looked at his drink as he pondered this, but had to blink a few more times to even see his drink clearly. “Well, at first I only came cuz my friends talked me into it, but really…I came just to meet new people,” he explained with a smile, but just sighed when he realized his sad story. “I’ve been here for over a year, but my buddies think I’m a sad case cuz I haven’t been on a date in all that time,” he explained with a laugh as he figured the entire sad story was dumb. So what if he didn’t have a date in over a year? Not like it really mattered. “Looks like I met someone new, so I’m pretty content to just be with you,” he said simply with a smile on his face before he took a swig of his drink. It was just that simple.
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Post by MELANIE RAYANNE CLARKE on Oct 26, 2010 11:31:25 GMT -6
This man sitting next to her knew nothing about her life or anything about her. He didn’t know about her mother’s alcoholism. He didn’t know about her father’s affairs. He didn’t know about her past drug use and addiction. He didn’t know about her sisters. He didn’t know about Natalie. He knew nothing, cept her name, and for some reason she kind of wanted it to stay that way. This guy seemed almost maybe innocent to the world that she’d known for so long. And while with most people she met, Melanie only knew one thing for certain about this guy. She never wanted him to see the side of Switchblade that she knew all too well. Or maybe her whole thought process was just the alcohol talking way too loudly in the back of her mind.
“There’s more to life than dating,” Melanie mumbled under her breath, staring straight ahead as she took another sip from her drink. She debated the idea of shots in the back of her mind but thought better of it in the end. She was the last person to say there was more to life than dating after all. Wasn’t it her job to provide dates for people? Or at least sleep with them if they so wanted to? God, she hated her life.
The more sober side of her said that she should just go back to her apartment. She should curl up under the covers of her nice warm bed. She should sleep it off and take the pain killers that would inevitably be needed in the morning. She should get away from the club and away from this guy who was altogether way too nice for her to even be sitting next to someone like her. She should pack her bags and say to hell with what her parents and her siblings thought about her. She should just hope on a plane or get in her car and get as far away from Switchblade City as possible.
Yet she didn’t move.
“Well I hope that I don’t disappoint you,” Melanie said even though she knew that she’d probably disappoint this guy more times than she could even count on both her hands and her toes thirty times over. “Conversation wise at least.”
She sat her empty glass back onto the bar and turned to face him. She was drunk enough now not to care what anyone in the club thought of her, if she’d even cared in the first place. So to hell with her own insecurities.
“Do you want to dance?”
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Post by CHARLES ADONIS REYNOLDS on Nov 10, 2010 22:03:48 GMT -6
Everything faded into the background of his mind as he stared at his drink in a rather single minded fantasy of random colors and specs of colors. It was rather fascinating how beautiful it all was, but it was also rather frightening how it caught and held his attention so easily. The colors reminded him of one of the dresses that his ex wore to bed one night. His joke later on had been that she’d looked like a rainbow had vomited on her. Rather comical that she thought the little slip of nothing over her body was attractive. Sure, the lack of clothing was sensual when they actually touched, but standing by the door, she looked rather ridiculous. The thought came to him almost out of no where, but it was quite to leave him as he was jerked from his thoughts by the woman speaking beside him.
Mel had spoken up after his little speech, but he didn’t understand what she’d said. It was as if she were whispering to herself. Perhaps she was one of those people who saw a good and bad version of herself and she was talking to them. Or maybe she was just plain old insane. It didn’t make much different to Charles. His best friends had always been a bit on the crazy side anyway, so it didn’t make any bit of difference in his eyes. As long as she didn’t try to kill, control, or manipulate him then she would have no problem being friends with him. His smile would more than likely tell her that he was content where he was. Whatever she would gain from that was completely up to her.
He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt excited about knowing this woman, but something told him he liked her. Char wanted to know what it felt like to hold her. Hold her hand, hold her close, stroke her hair, and sleep beside her were things that he wanted to feel. She just looked so soft, but even he had to admit that there was more not so innocent things he could imagine doing with her. That was only normal. Mel was a beautiful woman, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary for a man to imagine making love to a beautiful woman. Nothing weird about that.
Looking up, he was rather surprised when she spoke up again. This time she spoke loud enough for him to hear her, but he just blinked at her in confusion. What was she talking about? Disappoint him? The simple idea of that happening seemed rather insane, but then insane wasn’t too difficult to achieve. Though, still, he doubted that she would. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he felt like this woman would be the good one of the female population. The one who wouldn’t let him down. Not like all the others. Blinking at her again, he looked at her glass in obvious uncertainty. Looking at her again, he was rather overly happy about her question.
Had it been any other time and had he not been a spot drunk, he probably would’ve still said yes. There was just something about a beautiful girl asking him to dance that called out to him. It would be different if the circumstances were different, but the single man he was didn’t see a reason not to give in. “Sure,” he said rather happily, but just stood up from his seat in one fluid motion. Years of training did that to a guy, drunk or not, he was rather balanced. That was instinct, not real balance.
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