It's called Sanctuary and she doesn't really get it but she shrugs and figures it can't be that bad, besides she kind of needs sanctuary of some kind for a little while because her phone was beeping more than usual and she was too scared to check if it was an emergency.
The man at the door asks her how old she is and she replies "Old enough." He doesn't smell a lie on her so he lets her in.
The music is loud, almost too loud, and it's nothing like she's used to. There's no plaid skirts, no Louboutin's, no trench coats. It's all boots and skin and leather and it's just what the doctor ordered.
Nobody would ever find her here. Nobody would even look.
She kind of walks, kind of struts straight up to the bar, swerving effortlessly through the throng of people dancing and drinking (because she's grown up in large crowds and suddenly this bar doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore) and plops down on an empty barstool, one of her long legs crossed over the other, her skirt is short and her top is tight and when the large man behind the bar looks her up and down she's not even slightly uncertain anymore.
She's not Little J anymore (hasn't been for so long), and even though her tits haven't gotten any bigger in the year since she left New York her ego has been groped by enough guys to know she really doesn't look half bad in this particular outfit.
The barkeep is still staring at her and she scowls, drumming her fingernails on the counter, "Can I get a drink please?"
He laughs raucously (and its nothing like Nate or Chuck's or Damien's and she finds herself grinning), "How old are you, cher?"
She kind of shrugs one shoulder, artfully lets one strap of her top fall down to uncover one pale shoulder and acts as if she doesn't feel his eyes on her body. "Old enough."
He grins slowly and she can't help thoughts of another boy with perfect teeth who's probably a man now, but would never be a man like this, "For what?"
She smirks, pushes thoughts of silently blowing out a candle and begging her father for another chance out of her mind, and stares this mysterious looking man in the eye; "For anything."
They're in a room that's only slightly bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside and she's got her legs wrapped around his waist and he's got his hands wrapped around hers, and its hot and fast and she's digging her nails so deep into his spine he's sure he bleeding but it's probably the best fuck he's had in months so he doesn't really care.
He's glad the room is soundproof because she's a screamer, and her cries of "Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god!" are turning him on even more. He's growling lowly and he doesn't know if she can hear him or what, but she's so tight and tiny and he thinks about how easily he could break her and he's groaning and growling nearly as loudly as she's swearing.
It's not until Serre bangs on the door loudly telling him to hurry up that he even thinks about taking her up to his room, which in itself should shock him but it's already been an hour and he's nowhere near done so he does without a second thought.
Apparently they're in his room and she's more than a little shocked. He seems more the take-you-in-an-alley type than the take-you-in-my-bed type, but she's not complaining, in fact her hands are clutching his headboard and her whole body is shaking and this is probably the best fuck she's ever had, and she's had quite a lot since she broke Blair's heart.
The literally haven't stopped in hours and she feel like she's going to pass out, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him walk away with a story of fucking her into unconsciousness, so she lifts her hands from the headboard and grabs his shoulders, flips them around so she's on top and delights in spending the next forty minutes teasing the hell out of him.
They fall asleep curled around one another and she freaks out pretty badly when she wakes up because after the night she had (and the bruises and bite marks she'll have for a week because of it) it's kind of difficult to process how sweet this moment is.
Remi wakes up with a post-it note stuck to his forehead with the word "Thanks" written on it and with a self-satisfied smile promptly rolls over and goes back to sleep.
He's awoken to a burning sensation in his palm and his face goes white because her didn't get her number (hadn't even thought to) and now he was probably going to spend the rest of his life practically a eunuch.
His brothers are going to love this.
She's checked her messages and it actually was an emergency and for a second Jenny feels really, really bad.
Serena was unconscious in the hospital and New York was on a rampage trying to figure out what the fuck happened to their It Girl and very briefly Jenny entertains thoughts of going back. They're gone in a second though because she actually hasn't felt this sane since she became Queen and she knows if she goes back that place will poison her all over again.
She closes her eyes and visions of curly blonde hair and firm muscles enters her mind and she's pretty content that for once she's not thinking of someone else.
It's a week later when she finally gets the courage to go back to the bar, fully prepared to ignore the guy behind the bar if he wanted her to, and this time to guy at the door doesn't ask her age but simply lets her straight in. She's two steps into the door when he's there, dragging her up the stair straight to his room and she follows because if she was entirely honest with herself it's been him that's been on her mind lately, not Nate or Chuck or whoever and that pleases her entirely too much to be normal.
They barely make it through the door before their clothes are off and she briefly entertains thoughts that she could probably spend the rest of her life looking at him if he spends the rest of his naked, before he's driving into her so hard she see's stars and all her thoughts float away.
They're laying there, both panting and both trying not to panic because his arm is around her and her head is tucked half on his chest half under his arm and neither of them are used to it but it feels so right, so they share thoughts of staying for just a moment longer. It's her that breaks the silence and it's with a slightly uneasy chuckle that she lifts her hand awkwardly in his direction, "I'm Jenny."
He shakes hers just as awkwardly and answers with a grunt, "Remi."
She smiles gently, "I like it." And when they drop their hands they both kind of ignore the fact that they're still clasped together.
