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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 22:53:14 GMT -5
::Pietro took the vodka off the tray when it arrived, thanking the waitress and tipping her. He sipped it; not as strong as he preferred, but few establishments served alcohol that strong.::
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 22:56:52 GMT -5
Each of the men she visited made sure to tip her well; she left them hot and flustered, panting for breath and loosening their ties. There was money in her g-string like a collection of trophies.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 22:57:52 GMT -5
::Pietro had kept one eye on the red-haired dancer; she was coming up the aisle towards him, and she had already made a number of tips. Unsurprising; she was attractive.::
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:00:50 GMT -5
Strutting down the aisle, she took pleasure in the catcalls, and the whistles and hoots; she was good, and she knew it. Slowly she worked her way up the aisle, until she came to the man with the hood. "Hello," she purred, leaning closer to him.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:02:07 GMT -5
"Hello," ::Pietro said, his German accent shining through deliberately. He sipped his vodka again and set it down on the table.:: "Does your mother know you come here, dancing for strangers?"
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:08:37 GMT -5
"Maybe," she said, smiling impishly. She thrust her hips closer to him, deliberately. He had a German accent, and it sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place it.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:12:11 GMT -5
::Pietro held up a hand, a signal for her to move no further. He had his loyalties.:: "Look, don't touch."
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:17:27 GMT -5
She paused, not expecting that reaction before. Her eyes flashed golden for a brief second in her irritation. That, and she still thought he sounded familiar.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:19:27 GMT -5
::Pietro saw her eyes turn yellow, and a frown settled over his features. He managed to hide it, as he used his speed to cover himself, his expression relaxing immediately. He picked up his vodka and drained it, and then gestured to a back room.:: "Can I interest you in a private dance?"
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:26:28 GMT -5
"First you don't want me to touch, and now you want a private show?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:28:26 GMT -5
"I don't want you to touch," ::Pietro agreed, keeping the anger and contempt from his voice.:: "I'd like a private show. One doesn't negate the other."
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:31:06 GMT -5
"Fine," she said, shrugging. Her eyes sought out the manager, who was always watching for signs of unrest or something happening. She gave a slight nod, her eyes going from one of the private rooms back to him. He understood the meaning, and nodded. That way, he could send someone else out while she was busy. "Follow me," she said silkily, waiting for him to rise and strutting towards one of the private rooms.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:32:30 GMT -5
::Pietro finished the last sip of his vodka and rose to follow her to the back of the club. He had never been there before; he'd had no reason to. If only this were a better one.::
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Post by Mystique on Mar 31, 2008 23:34:30 GMT -5
When they reached the back of the club, she opened one of the doors, gesturing for him to go in first.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Mar 31, 2008 23:35:59 GMT -5
::Hood still covering his head, Pietro entered the room, moving halfway within it, before turning towards her again.::
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