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Okay, here's the next chapter:
--~*~-- Chapitre Deux: The Sparkling Diamond --~*~--
The full moon anticipating the arrival of the five young men as they left the car and walked into the club, following door after door, until they came to a curtain, strung high with glaring red lights, as if the purpose of the colorful string was to warn them of the images and wonders ahead. Each ignoring the flashing lights and tuned melodies, they quietly conversed amongst themselves until one of them spotted something in the mass of the twinkling surroundings.
It was a girl, off to the side, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off. A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and hypnotizing eyes, heavily made up; her fingernails were red. She wore dark blue jeans, and a glittering black top. Soda caught his breath and simply stared at her...his sparkling diamond.
First there were her eyes, eyes surrounded with a pure, indolent face. Things started to swirl around. A miscellany of intricate organic and mystical figures and designs filled up the space between them, and he forgot about everything. He even forgot about gravity. But still...there were her eyes, pure, indolent in the middle of musical nonsense.
In a trance of magnetism he roamed over to her she stood, arching her back and thrusting her body forward for show. He almost wavered, somewhat taken aback by the seductive way her in which her body language spoke to him. Nevertheless, he was still a man, and with that thought scorched into his mind, he pressed on.
Suddenly an array of showgirls stopped him in his tracks, and the once slightly angst ridden music was tossed aside, only to be replaced with the fast beating pace of a modern tango, so rapid was the speed, so mesmerizing were the fanciful individuals that swayed back and forth throughout the red room. And suddenly, as soon as she had appeared...she was gone.
--~*~--
She shut her eyes, but could still feel them around her - strong, sweaty bodies that had thrown her between them as though she were nothing but a rag doll...and still the tango rang in and out her ears. Her heart and head were throbbing with its rhythm. Her chest ached, and her throat felt thick and sore, as if she had been screaming, or was waiting to scream. As it was, she nearly laughed, her mind was buzzing and she felt half-mad, infused with the energy of the dance rather than exhausted by it.
It took her some moments to center herself. She felt a sudden commanding presence, as shivered as a callused hand wrapped itself around her right wrist, its fingers pressing perfectly into the bruises that had been so generously bestowed upon her the night before. He was angry with her tonight; his roughness with her as they danced had made it obvious enough, and her refusal to acknowledge that she had given him good reason to be cross with her had only encouraged him on.
It was of course, by no means, her employer Mr. Luc Claremont. He had only arrived two days ago from France, to see to the opening of his new club...as well as to pay a visit to a few of his girls, which he so candidly named the "Le diamant Traque" or in English, the "Diamond Dogs".
He pulled her to the dance floor, and once she was certain that her legs would not give way beneath her she wrenched her arm free of his grasp, and glared up at him, daring him, almost mocking him, as she had been throughout the tango. There were so many questions in his gaze; ones that she had been avoiding, and still had no intention of answering. It was the frustration in his black leering eyes that told her she would not escape this particular encounter unscathed; and it was the utter determination in them that made her want to run all the more.
Finally the song ended and Claremont dragged her into his office, a place she'd never been before, a place she'd often wondered about, yet in reality frightened her beyond belief. She was used to his ways, having worked in many a club of his since the tender age of twelve, and what wonderful yet treacherous age it was. She becoming a young woman, blossoming into a fragrant delicate rose, only to be tarnished and hid from the sunlight never being given room to breathe.
She took the sat anxiously, and waited. The burly man left her for just a moment returning with two of the girls who worked at the club. Entering the richly furnished room came five women, a few more excited than the other. Monsieur Claremont had taken it upon himself to give his dogs French names, based on the obvious.
And so they became transformed into creatures of the night, starting with Amour. Her name did not particularly suite her well; for the word amour means love...lover should have worked better. Then there was Tourte, and tart she was. The sultriest of the group, she was one who took the most pleasure in her occupation as a slave. Tatouage claimed the most eccentric name and body, her name meaning tattoo; she possessed them in abundance, artistic work traversing her in an array of spirals, fairies, butterflies, diamonds and hearts. Fraise's name only did justice to her beauty, for it signified her red hair, as red as a strawberry, and her bubbly demeanor was twice as sweet. Chocolat was the last aliquot of the dogs, her sensual dark skin resembled her name, and her frosty white eye shadow took the place of icing on the treat.
And she? Why she was Soleil, the Diamant étincelant, his favorite out of the entire liter, the one he would not touch but praise and reward, yet still held firmly onto the leash. As she glanced up once more she found six new "gentlemen" had entered the room...
...and the leash was tightened.
--~*~--
Okay, Translations: Amour ~ Love Tourte ~ Tart Tatouage ~ Tattoo Fraise ~ Strawberry Chocolat ~ Chocolate Diamant étincelant ~ Sparkling Diamond Soleil ~ Sun
--~*~-- Chapitre Deux: The Sparkling Diamond --~*~--
The full moon anticipating the arrival of the five young men as they left the car and walked into the club, following door after door, until they came to a curtain, strung high with glaring red lights, as if the purpose of the colorful string was to warn them of the images and wonders ahead. Each ignoring the flashing lights and tuned melodies, they quietly conversed amongst themselves until one of them spotted something in the mass of the twinkling surroundings.
It was a girl, off to the side, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off. A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and hypnotizing eyes, heavily made up; her fingernails were red. She wore dark blue jeans, and a glittering black top. Soda caught his breath and simply stared at her...his sparkling diamond.
First there were her eyes, eyes surrounded with a pure, indolent face. Things started to swirl around. A miscellany of intricate organic and mystical figures and designs filled up the space between them, and he forgot about everything. He even forgot about gravity. But still...there were her eyes, pure, indolent in the middle of musical nonsense.
In a trance of magnetism he roamed over to her she stood, arching her back and thrusting her body forward for show. He almost wavered, somewhat taken aback by the seductive way her in which her body language spoke to him. Nevertheless, he was still a man, and with that thought scorched into his mind, he pressed on.
Suddenly an array of showgirls stopped him in his tracks, and the once slightly angst ridden music was tossed aside, only to be replaced with the fast beating pace of a modern tango, so rapid was the speed, so mesmerizing were the fanciful individuals that swayed back and forth throughout the red room. And suddenly, as soon as she had appeared...she was gone.
--~*~--
She shut her eyes, but could still feel them around her - strong, sweaty bodies that had thrown her between them as though she were nothing but a rag doll...and still the tango rang in and out her ears. Her heart and head were throbbing with its rhythm. Her chest ached, and her throat felt thick and sore, as if she had been screaming, or was waiting to scream. As it was, she nearly laughed, her mind was buzzing and she felt half-mad, infused with the energy of the dance rather than exhausted by it.
It took her some moments to center herself. She felt a sudden commanding presence, as shivered as a callused hand wrapped itself around her right wrist, its fingers pressing perfectly into the bruises that had been so generously bestowed upon her the night before. He was angry with her tonight; his roughness with her as they danced had made it obvious enough, and her refusal to acknowledge that she had given him good reason to be cross with her had only encouraged him on.
It was of course, by no means, her employer Mr. Luc Claremont. He had only arrived two days ago from France, to see to the opening of his new club...as well as to pay a visit to a few of his girls, which he so candidly named the "Le diamant Traque" or in English, the "Diamond Dogs".
He pulled her to the dance floor, and once she was certain that her legs would not give way beneath her she wrenched her arm free of his grasp, and glared up at him, daring him, almost mocking him, as she had been throughout the tango. There were so many questions in his gaze; ones that she had been avoiding, and still had no intention of answering. It was the frustration in his black leering eyes that told her she would not escape this particular encounter unscathed; and it was the utter determination in them that made her want to run all the more.
Finally the song ended and Claremont dragged her into his office, a place she'd never been before, a place she'd often wondered about, yet in reality frightened her beyond belief. She was used to his ways, having worked in many a club of his since the tender age of twelve, and what wonderful yet treacherous age it was. She becoming a young woman, blossoming into a fragrant delicate rose, only to be tarnished and hid from the sunlight never being given room to breathe.
She took the sat anxiously, and waited. The burly man left her for just a moment returning with two of the girls who worked at the club. Entering the richly furnished room came five women, a few more excited than the other. Monsieur Claremont had taken it upon himself to give his dogs French names, based on the obvious.
And so they became transformed into creatures of the night, starting with Amour. Her name did not particularly suite her well; for the word amour means love...lover should have worked better. Then there was Tourte, and tart she was. The sultriest of the group, she was one who took the most pleasure in her occupation as a slave. Tatouage claimed the most eccentric name and body, her name meaning tattoo; she possessed them in abundance, artistic work traversing her in an array of spirals, fairies, butterflies, diamonds and hearts. Fraise's name only did justice to her beauty, for it signified her red hair, as red as a strawberry, and her bubbly demeanor was twice as sweet. Chocolat was the last aliquot of the dogs, her sensual dark skin resembled her name, and her frosty white eye shadow took the place of icing on the treat.
And she? Why she was Soleil, the Diamant étincelant, his favorite out of the entire liter, the one he would not touch but praise and reward, yet still held firmly onto the leash. As she glanced up once more she found six new "gentlemen" had entered the room...
...and the leash was tightened.
--~*~--
Okay, Translations: Amour ~ Love Tourte ~ Tart Tatouage ~ Tattoo Fraise ~ Strawberry Chocolat ~ Chocolate Diamant étincelant ~ Sparkling Diamond Soleil ~ Sun