A Customer //Charlotte Blair (@greenbeads)

[troylus]

Roswell needed to take a walk. He'd used the last of his morphling; stuff that he was supposed to have kept to sell, but it had just been too tempting. That was yesterday, and he was trying to hold off buying more for at least another day. He had to get a grip on this habit before it took over and made him into the desperate losers he sold it to; skin yellow and sagging. Disgusting. Weak. Useless. He pulled on his long coat, a trophy from a fight the year before, and his most loved article of clothing. It was full of pockets for drugs, needles, cigarettes, rolls of cash and of course knives. He habitually checked his boot knife was in place too before heading out. His parents didn't even look up as he left, staring into space from their constant place in their armchairs.

The air was fairly foul, but nicer than in his family's airless dingy apartment, and he needed some time alone to manage his thoughts. He tugged his coat around him against the cold winter night air and walked. The intensity of the cravings seemed to reduce the further he got from his room and the familiar streets where he dealt and hung out with other users. He relaxed, his stride becoming less jerky and pressured. But he didn't let his guard down, in fact he became more vigilant; being outside his own territory brought risks and he didn't want to be jumped, robbed or attacked right now, even if a fight he could win might be an enjoyable diversion.

He rounded a corner looking around carefully for any threats and saw her, standing brazenly under a broken streetlight. The air caught in his lungs and his feet stopped abruptly. In the low light he could see her blonde hair, and slim tall body. He hadn’t seen his sister for a week, but he was shocked to think she was out here all alone standing on the street like a hooker. He snarled softly, his face twisting in rage. No sister of his sold herself to the highest bidder. The thought made him sick and he took several quick steps towards her, his hand wrapped around the knife in one of his pockets. His sister could sometimes win in a fight against him, even though he was taller and stronger these days. She was faster though, especially since he’d started using so much morphling, but right now he was behind her and would grab her by surprise so she wouldn’t be able to use her superior agility and grace to her advantage. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with her when he got hold of her, other than drag her home and kick some sense into her, he supposed.

Just a few steps away and she must have sensed him, or heard his heavy boots on the road, and she turned to face him. He froze once more, blinking. It wasn’t Rosemarie. The similarity was remarkable though, even now he could see her face. This woman’s eyes were a brighter blue, like ice, not the grey blue of his sister’s and his own. There were subtle differences too - thinner lips, different cheekbones, but overall they were very alike.

Roswell released his tight grip on the knife, slowly taking his empty hand from his pocket. He stood there silently eyeing her up and down, a dark glower on his otherwise handsome face, waiting for her to speak first, curious as to what she might say and sound like.

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

You don't have to put on that red light
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong of if it is right

It was a bitterly cold night and most of the usual girls had opted out of work for the evening. That was a luxury Miss Blair simply could not afford. Thin legs carried the girl from her shabby apartment to the industrial section. It'd been a rough year, that was for sure. She hadn't seen Clyde in months and it showed. Without his kind touch and infuriating long words she was left numb. Charlotte always thought of herself as independent but she was coming to realize that she needed people around or else she ended up like this- walking to work in the thin layer of gray slush that used to be snow. She was hoping that with less competition she'd earn a few extra bucks. There hadn't been as many peacekeepers out as there usually were and that was making her nervous. They paid well and were pretty regular customers, but some higher up must have put a stop to their nighttime activities.

Yanking her jacket closer to her ribs she turned the corner to find her usual streetlamp (because sometimes the woman liked to be a cliche) had been smashed. Her usual sexy beam of light was reduced to shadowy darkness relying on the lamps nearby. Loyalty to her spot made her go over and lean against the cold metal. She didn't hear a single footstep of anyone near by and she took the solitude as a moment to gather herself. Resting her head against the post, Charlotte closed her eyes and thought of what she would buy in the morning with the earnings she made tonight. Bread. She hadn't had anything but stale scraps for weeks and a nice warm loaf seemed like just the thing to lift her spirits. Maybe, if she had the funds, she could get a bowl of hot soup from the man downtown.

The sound of a sturdy sole on wet concrete snapped her back into reality. It was a person and they were moving fast. Pushing off from her resting spot, Charlotte spun around to see a man stop right as her eyes hit him. Like she was a Keeper or a witch or something, the guy stopped in his tracks. Dressed in a long dark coat, he had a shock of nearly white hair not unlike Charlotte's own locks. The man also had a large scar that traveled through his eyebrow, across his socket and down his cheek. He looked like he belonged in the darkness of the warehouse district just as much as she did. Charlotte felt like laughing at them- two cliches the Peacekeepers would just love to haul in. A shady looking figure who almost definitely had some form of contraband on him and a hooker. She almost felt bad that there was no one else in the street to see them.

The guy just stood there staring at her for sometime before Charlotte finally spoke up.

"Well?" she said, extending her arms so that her coat fell open and he could take a better look at the scantily clad merchandise she was offering. "I don't have all night."

[troylus]

Roswell stood in silence still, drinking in the sight of her as she put herself on display so tantalizingly. "Well?" she had said, as if she had already asked him a question and was waiting for the answer.  Her body language was enough to go on though, and he knew exactly what she meant.  "Are you buying a piece of this?" would have worked as another way of putting it, or "Do you like what you see?" He mulled these unspoken questions over for a time, ignoring her protestations that she didn't have all night.  He considered himself a prudent and wary customer - a strong believer in 'buyer beware' - of course, he thought perhaps it was more of a case here of 'seller beware' but that was her lookout, not his.  

He didn't have much money on him, seeing as he had used the drugs he was meant to have sold.  But it was surely enough cash that he could afford a street hooker in a dark and deserted street in THIS area. Besides,he would try and negotiate a good rate and see where things went.  He could be quite a good negotiator and find a bargain when he needed to. even able to turn on the charm if he was really motivated.

He looked over both shoulders one at a time, realising that many girls like this had a well armed and capable pimp standing by somewhere close in order to deal with this exact sort of issue.  He couldn't see anyone but there were quite a few places that someone could be hiding in the shadows, ready to smack him on the head when he was distracted with the young lady.  He slowly turned back to face her, drinking in her appearance once more.  She was very attractive and he felt the heat and need building inside his body. 

He decided that an honest and open negotiation was for the best, at least to start with, and took a few notes from his pocket, showing them to her. "I assume that is sufficient?" His voice was deep and gravelly, almost seductive, while his words spoke of pure business arrangements, no measure of an attempt to seem appealing himself, or win her over.  He wasn't being cruel or nasty, not yet anyway, but he didn't see any need to impress on a street worker his own appeal.  He was the customer, and customers were always right. "Especially if you're short of time and you only have a limited amount of time for me?" He chuckled softly, amused at the idea, and curious as to how long all of this might take in the end.

(OOC: word count  457)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

You don't have to wear that dress tonight
You don't have to sell your body to the night

The hairs on the back of Charlotte's neck stood on end and immediately she felt like bolting down the street as fast as she could. Alone, in the dim shady part of town with this mark who seemed a little off- Charlotte had never wanted a Peacekeeper to haul in more than right now. However, she had come out tonight for money and he was flashing bills at her. The girl squinted at him, taking in his full form. His pale was an ashen gray and there were dark circles under his eyes. Drug addict. She should have guessed that earlier. She was surprised he even had money on him and hadn't thrown it away to get another high.

His voice was low and sent chills running down the girl's spine and not in the good way. Charlotte had been through a lot in her few years- living with her addict mother, having to sleep with strangers for money, spending months in the detention center alone in a gray damp cell. She had slept with all sorts of men and women in District Six- Peacekeepers, merchants, beggars. This was the type that always made her second guess herself. She thought of how her mother looked, glassy eyed and hanging onto the neck of a bottle like it was her only lifeline in this world. Addicts were unpredictable. They could be cool one second and violent the next.

Blue eyes stared at all the warning flags, the creepy laugh and the hollow cheeks, but they also gazed over the bills in his hands. It wasn't a lot but it was just enough to make ends meet. Not to bad for a slow night like this one.

Charlotte gave the kid another up and down and decided he wasn't the worst she'd ever had. In any case she could hold her own. The girl's mind traveled to the thin knife in her purse. It was the only useful thing her mother had ever given her and she wasn't exactly ready to use it just yet.

"That much is fine," she said, her voice coming out higher than she intended it to. Clearing her throat she tried to fall back into her usual scratchy low tones. "Your place or mine?"

To punctuate her question, she took a step forward her heel clicking against the damp concrete. She reached her hand out, slowly, and laid it on his wrist. Her fingers were itching to get a hold of that cash just to know it was her's for good. Clicking her work face into place, Charlotte gave the guy a little smirk and batted her eyes just enough that it didn't seem put on.

It was a dance she had been doing for far too long, and she knew she'd be following the steps for the few decades she had in this miserable little district. Maybe she'd get reaped- wouldn't that be a change of scenery.

[troylus]

He seemed a little surprised that it was enough money without haggling and grinned at her for the first time, making his face relax for a moment, letting his guard down a little. The boy he once was was visible for that brief moment, a time when he wasn't so intent on the threats and dangers around him at all times. He kept the money visible but didn't hand it to her right away, unsure what was acceptable practice in this particular situation. "My place stinks, and has other people living in it who stink even more that the rooms do, so that would suck.  Yours?"  

He scanned her face, admiring her eyes and pouty lips, considering how strange it was that he'd just paid to spend time with her, just like that.  He'd paid to be with women before, but not terribly often, and it always seemed strange somehow.  Like they should now pretend that both parties were doing this for non-financial reasons, as if they'd met at a bar and wanted to spend time together mutually. "Is it far, your place I mean? You needed me to be quick, so if we have to walk a long way that might be difficult." He looked around and spotted a dark alleyway a short distance down the road. "That's nearby, if you don't want to walk too far. Is it ahhh...private enough?" He shrugged, "Up to you, I don't mind."

He noticed the money still in his grasp and pressed it into her hand with a small lopsided grin. "I don't usually talk this much.  I'm a bit rusty at it."

(ooc: word count 275)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

You don't have to wear that dress tonight
You don't have to sell your body to the night

He crumpled the money into her hand and the girl tried to not look so desperate as she shoved it into her purse. The man seemed to mellow out since they first addressed one another but, again, Charlotte knew how addicts were. The memory of a bottle smashing against the door frame next to her ear was plenty enough proof of that.

She gazed down the alleyway and wrinkled her nose at the dimness and dampness of it.

"Slow your roll, kid," she said, trying to calm him down from the word vomit fountain he had created in her direction. "I know a place."

The "place" Charlotte spoke of was really an abandoned office space in one of the nearby warehouses. Most of the buildings were abandoned anyway and all sorts of crimes went down in them. Charlotte had made her own little working once she'd cleared out the papers and gotten a mattress in there. Some pillows and candles and boom- the perfect corner office for a prostitute. She even had a key to the door so that the other girls would stay out of her shit.

"It's just down this block, it's not far," she said, starting towards her little den of crime. "So kid, you got a name? Or do I have to think of a nickname for you?"

Her light humor was only covering the familiar feeling of numbness and a touch of shame that swirled around in Charlotte's stomach. Tonight, however, her cocktail had fear added to the mixture. She just hoped this guy stayed cool while she handled him. Once he was out of her hands it didn't matter to her, just as long as he was shooting up away from Charlotte and her fresh, new cash.

[troylus]

Roswell decided he liked this girl, she had guts and character and she didn't seem out of her head with drugs like all the other prostitutes he'd ever seen had been. He trailed after her, curious as to where they might be going and scanned the street up and down looking for anyone who might jump out at them.  He even walked making sure he avoided the longer, darker shadows, always keeping enough distance between him and objects that he could maneuver if someone tried to attack him. He didn't look nervous though, but as if this was his normal way of being, always watchful, always careful and guarded.  

"So kid, you got a name? Or do I have to think of a nickname for you?"


Being called a kid made him smile.  Even when he had been a child not many people had called him that.  He found it entertaining, and it further endeared him to this strange new girl.  He was about to tell her his name, but he was suddenly very curious as to what she might call him as a nick name.  It might be even more amusing than 'kid' and he might treasure the name long after the satisfaction of his lust was forgotten. 

"Many people not have names, in your experience? I'm curious as to what you come up with for me." He stopped walking and held his arms at his sides, turning a slow circle on the spot in a strange way of putting himself on display. "Go on.  Show me how imaginative you are, as well as pretty."

(ooc word count 272)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

You don't have to wear that dress tonight
You don't have to sell your body to the night

As they walk went on Charlotte became more and more comfortable with her customer. Despite his interesting introduction he seemed like an okay kid... well you know despite all the drugs. He stopped and gave a little twirl on the sidewalk and let her get a good look at him. To let her name him. It was funny and at this time of night Charlotte needed as much humor as she could get. The girl tried to ignore the way his coat moved around him- weighed down by objects in his pockets. She packaged that thought up with all the frightening evidence of how a bad night could go and pushed it to the outskirts of her mind til the job was complete and she could laugh at her own anxiety.

"Well, I'd say you look like a Walter," she said, smirking at him. She took a few steps towards him, closing the gap in between them. His long coat brushed against her thighs, and she looked up into his thin, angular face. "But then again that's not a very good name to scream."

She topped off that line with a quick bit to her lower lip and a flutter of eye movement across his chest. She was always improving on her little lines but this was something brand new. She liked it a lot and would have to try it on some other guy if tonight went well.

Slipping her hand under his coat, she pressed her palm against his chest. They were very close and while the intimacy aspect of being so close to another person never bothered Charlotte (most of the time) it was fear that made her seem hesitant. After so many years it is still hard to get used to the fact that you work with people who tend to be bigger than you and most of the time stronger as well. Charlotte's only tools were her body and her charm, but she shouldn't doubt them now. After all they had carried her along for quite sometime.

"How about... Spike?" she said, grinning. "Cause you're so sharp."

She ran a finger over the man's prominent cheekbone. Charlotte began to wonder if he was born with them or if whatever he was on was eroding at his face. Either way it was nothing she had to worry about, right?

[troylus]

Roswell wasn't so keen on Walter as a name, but it did amuse him non the less.
She was very close to him now, looking up at his face and then she said words that made his whole body tense with the thrill of them, "But then again that's not a very good name to scream."
His reaction of pleasure and delight was palpable. And it didn't stop there.  his blood quickened even more as bit her lip and fluttered her eyes, and it took a lot of self control for him not to gently bite her lip the same way


Then she was touching his chest and he simply let her. It was foolish, if she'd pick pocketed him he wouldn't even feel it most likely, and she could have a knife secreted between her fingers as far as he knew, but she was so attractive to him right then it was as if he didn't care even if she did stab him. 



"How about... Spike?" she said and he instantly LOVED it, and knew he would never forget this night, and this amazing women he had happened to come across. "Cause you're so sharp."
He agreed with that, he WAS sharp in several ways - his mind, his emotions, his possessions secreted about his person but currently quite forgotten, and of course his features. 


She ran a finger over his very prominent cheekbone and he pressed his face into the touch, kissing her finger lightly with a brush of his lips. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he drank in her image, so close, and intimate.  If she was still afraid of him he couldn't sense it any more, and he was impressed.  Perhaps this woman was even better at pushing away fear than he was.  "Perfect, Spike it is. I look forward to hearing you scream it often and with vigor." He lifted a hand and gently stroked her pretty hair away from her face so that he could better see her. "And what shall I call you, my new imaginative acquaintance?"

(ooc: word count 350)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

You don't have to wear that dress tonight
You don't have to sell your body to the night

He was hooked. She could see it in his eyes. The way he was gazing at her, how he brushed the hair away from her face. Little Spike had melted into a little pool just like everyone else. Charlotte had to admit: she was good.

The way he spoke it took her out of her work mode for a moment. "And what shall I call you, my new imaginative acquaintance?" For a moment intense blue eyes were replaced with clear green ones. Blonde hair melted into brown locks. It sounded like Clyde was speaking through him. Charlotte was momentarily taken off guard but the formal speech. Not many people in District Six spoke like that.

It wasn't him. Clyde was gone.

Her face betrayed her emotions for a moment- her eyes worried but curious and her mouth falling from its sensual smirk into a slack jawed circle. Shaking green eyes from her mind Charlotte tried to slip back into her facade.

"You can all me whatever you like," she said winking at him before spinning around and hurrying their walk along the sidewalk. Since when did everyone in Six eat a dictionary? Liner rimmed eyes scouted the dark alleyways half expecting her old friend to pop out. What would he think of her now?

"Through here," she said coming to the front door of the old warehouse where her hidden room was stored in. The door was large and half rusted through. She waited, leaning on the door frame for her customer to enter first. "Up the stairs, Spike."

The woman held on desperately to her work persona. The night was becoming a lot harder than she ever thought it would be. Charlotte just hoped Mr. Addict kept his cool because she was starting to lose her's.

[troylus]

Whatever I like? he mused on that for a while, his long legs easily keeping up with her as she led him to her chosen location. "My first inclination was to call you Rosemarie, because you look so much like my sister." He grinned wickedly, "So much that I nearly dragged you home to face our parents for daring to sell yourself." He smirked and chuckled softly, "But considering what we are about to engage in, I suspect using my sister's name would be highly inappropriate." He thought about it some more before saying, "How about Scarlet? I know it is best used for gingers, and your hair is almost as blonde as mine.  But red is a colour oft associated with your profession, and it rhymes with a nasty word for that aforementioned same job." He was not aware of how odd his language was, for few people he met bothered to talk to him much, and when they did most were too scared to mention that he was so strange in case he took offence.  

He took the stairs two at a time, not out of eagerness, just his natural long legged stride and turned to wait for her at the top.  He habitually continued scanning the environment, looking for traps, people hiding in wait, and ways out should he need them in a hurry, while maintaining a casual, almost relaxed attitude.  

With Charlotte's charming and distracting manner he had quite forgotten about his desire for the next hit.  It was most refreshing not to be thinking about it and to feel in control once more.  "Now where?"

(ooc: word count 276)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?

The girl was half listening to the man's name decision, however she did tune in when she heard the word "sister." Her mouth twisted into a frown as the man explained how terrible it would have been to find out his sister was a whore and then told her how much she looked like his little Rosemarie. Charlotte had dealt with worst fetishes, she could deal with this one. However, he didn't land on that name.

Scarlet. How original.

Again, with the flood of long million dollar words. It was like the universe wanted her to remember that Clyde was alive and she was spending her days with guys like "Spike."

Shoving the metal door closed behind her, Charlotte started her treacherous climb up the stairs in her heels. "You can call me a harlot- or a hooker, whore, slut whatever. I'm a big girl I can take it," she said, becoming a little impatient with her mark for the night. This wasn't her first time working the streets, she didn't need some guy trying to be gentle with words when he wanted to fuck his sister or whatever.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, she turned to a small metal door set in the wall. There was a window in the door that had been covered with a black fabric from the inside because who wants someone peeping in while a girl is trying to work? Digging the key from her purse, Charlotte turned her back on Spike and fumbled with the door. The lock was old and rusted so it took a few tries before she finally flung it open.

The small room was dim, but wouldn't be for long. There were a few candles placed around the room that would provide enough light, she just needed to find her matches first. Stepping over the pillows and sheets that were strewn across the floor, Charlotte dug into a drawer to get her matchbox, except there was so little light it felt like a next to impossible task.

"Make yourself at home, Spike," she said, still focused on grappling in the dark, hoping her emotions weren't bleeding into her voice. Charlotte Blair losing her nerve- that was a first.

[troylus]

He watched her feeling around in the dark for a while, before reaching into one of his many pockets and producing a lighter.  The warm glow of the small flame helped light the room a little.  "That help?" he asked as he leaned over to light a few candles before he made his way slowly over to the mattress. He used the light of his flame to scan the surface, looking for any vermin or bed bugs, and satisfied that there were none he sat down, his long lanky legs folding with some small difficulty under him, his long black coat splayed out behind him almost like a cloak. he snapped the lighter shut, suddenly really wanting a smoke, but pushing aside the impulse.  He wanted his hands and mouth free to kiss and hold his 'Scarlet woman'. 

He punched one of the pillows to make it more comfortable and relaxed against it, linking his fingers behind his head and grinning at her roguishly. "You come here often?" he joked with a playful wink, deliberately using an over-used pick up line to try and break the ice a little. 

(00c word count: 193)

[sbeeg]

Charlotte Blair

Come on, tell me
What's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?

Becoming frustrated with her quest, Charlotte threw her purse on top of the desk and used both hands to wander through the old office supplies and odds and ends. She heard a metallic snap. Whirling around she saw Spike's angular faced alight with the warm flame from a lighter. The kid must have had it in his pocket. Without being asked to, he traveled around to the candles, dipping the flame to the wick another tiny light grew. Shadows flung around the room, but at least she could see.

Finally, her customer went to her bed. Taking a moment to inspect it. Snapping his lighter closed, he sat down, his black duster laid out behind him. Without the lighter right by his face it was hard to tell what he was thinking. His eyes were all in shadow even as he laid back, stretching out his arms.

"You come here often?"

Charlotte snorted. Shrugging her own black coat off she smiled at her little joker.

"As often as I can," she said, tossing her coat over her purse. "But you must be new. I haven't seen you here before."

She went along with the game. It was easier if you were both playing at something instead of being genuine. Real shit never worked.

She took her time crossing over to him, letting her heels clip against the floor and her hips sway with each step. Coming to a stop, her feet nearly brushed his own boots but she stood tall over his laying figure.

"Would you like me to show you around?" she grinned.

And so the dance begins.

[troylus]

"As often as I can. But you must be new. I haven't seen you here before."

He grinned, enjoying that she was playing along with him and watched her slow approach, appreciating every sway of her hips.  She looked taller like this, with him on the mattress and her standing over him, her boots almost touching his. 

"Would you like me to show you around?" 

His steely gaze slid up and down, lingering at certain points before lazily travelling to the next.  "From the little I've seen I believe there are some might fine displays of nature to behold. And some human delights to excite the senses too. So yes, yes I would like you to show me ALL of the features." Most of the humour in his face slowly dissolve, replaced with lust. "Perhaps you could kiss me, and I could first me given a tour of that attraction?" 

He slid one hand out from under his head and reached for her, indicating he wished her to come to his arms.

(ooc: word count 173)