I do not own Defiance or the many characters that inhabit its walls
The Needs of the Many Outweigh the Needs to the Few
Part 1 of an ongoing tale-
Stahma walked into the Needwant sex club as the sky darkened outside. The door jerked from her hand as the uprising wind caught the wood. The security guard caught it and ducked his head as he allowed her to enter. "Be careful madam, that wind is fierce." She ducked her head in acknowledgement, then stepped through into the club, lips pursed.
The scents of rose and patchouli assaulted her sense cavity, cloying a certain enticing sweetness. She recognized the scents from her husband's shirts and jackets. Looking around the club, she noticed several men at tables with women, dressed in various corsets and short skirts, standing beside them or sitting on their laps. She knew of the business conducted within these hallowed walls, but she had yet to experience them. The sights were mysterious and slightly arousing for Stahma. The Needwant was a gentleman's club of old fashioned when spoken of in polite conversation, deemed a whorehouse by the locals in certain circles. Castithan women were not usually welcome inside unless they were workers. Stahma's friend, a human named Kenya, the mayor's sister was the proprietor of the club and a prize for certain lucky patrons able to entice her into a bed. Stahma's husband, Datak used her services frequently.
Stahma noticed Kenya stepping away from the bar and smiling at a young man. She caught her eye and smiled as well. "Kenya," Stahma said, her voice deep and raspy.
"Mrs. Tarr, how very good to see you." Kenya reached out to grab Stahma's hand in greeting. The Castithan woman was not usually a tactile person, but she allowed Kenya to touch her. "I've missed seeing you on the streets."
Stahma smiled, her eyes sparking in pleasure. "I have been occupied with Alak and his betrothed. The preparations for the wedding are consuming all of my social time." She glanced around at the other patrons. Several eyes slid away from her, signaling that they had been watching her.
"He's a very lucky boy to have such a devoted mother." Kenya smirked. "Would you care for a drink?" She tugged Stahma away from the bar and over to a quieter corner of the Needwant, where the lighting was dimmer and the tables small and more intimate.
"May we speak? I have matters I need to address with you." Stahma ducked her head, her eyes glancing up and meeting Kenya's.
"Absolutely. Anything for you." Kenya snapped to the bartender to bring over a carafe of chilled wine. "Drink?"
"Only one." Stahma sat on the stool across from Kenya, their hands still holding. "I have need of your services."
Kenya bowed her head, glanced to the side to see if anyone overheard Stahma. She pursed her lips. "Of course you do. You know my fees?"
"The amount does not matter. It's the service I seek." Stahma licked her lips and let go of Kenya.