NAOMI IRVING
Civilian  
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Mar 27, 2013 1:21:49 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note: oh boy.
She grabbed Atticus' hand and gently guided him to the private rooms. She took him to "her" room, the best room next to the bachelor party room. Her room was a nice size, had a small stage, a couch, a pole and a end table with a electronic tablet that you could order wine and other drinks from. She walked him into the room and closed the door behind them, she them directed him to the couch. "Please sit." Her voice was commanding, but sweet. She took her time, walked around Atticus and she waited a moment for the musice to kick on. She was still wearing Nantan's jacket over her shoulders. She stood in front of Atticus and slid the jacket of her shoulder's and then let it hit the floor with a light thump. "Rules, since I have a feeling you are new to this. Touching to a minimum, that is all. Relax, enjoy and please feel free to speak up if there is something specific you want me to do." With the beat of the music pumping through her soul she let her hips rocks to the beat. She was so close, and yet so far. She stayed just far enough that even if he reached out it would be hard to touch her without leaning. Her hands and body moved as one as she just got a feeling for the beat, her hands wold glide over her own skin, a trick to make the men imagine that they were touching her themselves. After a few seconds of this she got close, straddling her self over one of his legs. There was a reason Naomi was one of the club's top girls, she was a hell of a dancer on a pole. Yet what really made the money was her lap dances. She was not afraid to get close, move slow and just give the man the time of his life. She was not a cheap dancer, she did not shake her ass or do some stupid lap humping. No, ever move she made was slow and in time with the beat. Both exciting and agonizing for any man that was trapped under her control. Outfit: here |
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Mar 28, 2013 19:31:39 GMT -8
Well, Nantan was screwed. Maybe literally.
He couldn’t say he knew Marcos all that well, but the mischief was definitely there, pouring off the younger man in waves, and in all the years Atticus had been living on this earth, a little fun usually led to a little too much fun later. Well. Nantan needed to let loose, and Atticus wasn’t going to let himself feel guilty about it one way or the other. In fact, Atticus watched out of the corner of his eye, bland indifference written on his expression, as his friend was eagerly led away. He was actually still highly irritated, but the anger twisting his heart into knots gentled when he felt a soft hand slip around his own and tug. Oh. Right. That. His gaze widened briefly before he centered his attention on Naomi; again that arrogant muscle in his chest jerked fitfully. Atticus hadn’t indulged himself—much less been this impulsive—since he was a damn kid. Confusion rattled everything but...maybe. Just for a little while…some fun wouldn't hurt.
The man snuck one more shot from the bar as they walked by, gulped it down, and slid his empty glass back across the counter top before they both exited. He’d need the extra boost of alcohol to temporarily drown his conscious into submission. And for the most part, it seemed to be working. He had a heavy buzz now, and though things weren’t fuzzy, he certainly didn’t give a damn about details outside of Naomi. The only thing Atticus regretted about this decision to follow her—at least right now—was the fact that Nantan had forgotten to take his jacket with him. Or maybe she didn’t want to give it back. Either way, she was still wearing it, and Nantan’s gift effectively covered most of her skin, disturbing the view. Atticus suppressed a growl. He couldn’t tell what was more frustrating—the fact that he was bristling at all, or the fact that Nantan had given her the thing in the first place.
Who in their right mind freely gave a stripper more clothes? Who? Apparently, Nantan, a thought snarled before his attention drifted, intrigued.
Sometimes it was so hard to stay angry.
Atticus instinctively dropped his gaze as they walked, a dark, almost primal glint in his eye as his concentration settled lower, his pipe still poised between his teeth. Most people struggled to focus under the influence of a lot of alcohol, but for Atticus, it only seemed to imbue him with resolve and focus. He caught himself envisioning the natural dip in her back hidden under that jacket; his gaze inadvertently followed that thought, blazing a path lower, insatiable because it had been a long, long time since he had—wait. He bit down a little more sharply on the pipe in his mouth. That thought was unsettling—he was having a little trouble trying to figure out why—but his insides broiled in response. His gaze snapped up to hers automatically though; they had finally come upon a room and she had led him in. Alone. And had closed the door.
That’s not so bad, another thought whispered, almost chuckled.
Then the haze washed over him again; Atticus could practically still taste the Bacardi on his breath as he sat down and sank back into the cushions of the couch. The alcohol was certainly affecting his judgment, if not his bravery. He slung one arm around the back at the same time he heard Nantan's jacket fall away and slump to the floor. Good riddance, something in him muttered. In response, Atticus' gaze instantly crawled upwards. Now his pipe was out of his mouth, cradled in his hand again, and he had turned his head to breathe out another curtain of smoke while she threw down the rules. Minimal touching? Okay. That helped both of them…didn’t it? Yet, even as he thought it, the music moving through the room seemed to weave itself into her gestures; he was hooked again, and failing to remember that there was a part of him that still felt conflicted. Simply put, she had a gift.
And she knew how to use it.
Not surprisingly, he was much more invested in her than the music. The more time wore on, the more distant other details became; in his head, Atticus substituted the noise of a song for the beat of heavy drums, a sound that invoked only more interest. The experience in her gestures, the faint hint of kindness, the way her chest rose and fell, how her fingertips ghosted over her skin in that agonizingly slow fashion. Frankly, it was intoxicating. She was intoxicating. Each thrum he imagined seemed to match her movements—and the feral nature of his own heart. He admired the confidence in her gestures and followed the paths her hands made with renewed interest, but he never once said a thing, his fingers twitching behind the back of the couch as if they itched to break the one rule that he had already agreed to. Too bad. Atticus stood by his restraint, but he could neither resist a smile, nor hide the wicked glint in his eye when she finally drew closer, straddled his leg.
Strange, that he should feel more like himself now than he had in years. It was likely all that booze, mucking things up.
“You’re good,” he admitted slowly. But Atticus leaned back a bit, ignoring a slight bit of physical discomfort down below, “Really good.” His gaze shifted, away from her eyes and down toward her hips, while his hand clenched into a fist behind the couch. Clothes like hers typically left little to the imagination, and Naomi had a lot of curves to admire, which only complicated matters, but he had to focus. As long as he wasn’t touching, there was nothing explicitly wrong with what he was doing. Right? The alcohol said so. His gaze flicked back to zero in on hers. Funny that her eyes, so brown, so average, should seem so alive and fiery to him right now. Damn, she knew exactly what she was doing. He could tell; and maybe that certainty she possessed kept him right where he was.
Requesting more.
“There’s no doubt about that. But if I were your hands,” he finally finished, “I’d trail blaze…lower, first. Explore, a little. Makes me earn the rest as you move up." He paused. "And maybe makes it more meaningful when, or if, one of your fingers trips on one of the buttons up here.” He raised the hand with the pipe and pointed at her top, indicating one of the silver buttons restraining her breasts, without touching. No one could say he wasn't true to his word, at least, on most days. ...sometimes. Atticus' smile grew a fraction as she pulled his hand back. He probably shouldn't tempt things.
“As for the rest. I’m an artist,” he said, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “I enjoy creativity.”
Time Stamp: April 28th, night ish
Notes: …a little too much Bacardi Atticus. A little too much.
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Mar 30, 2013 1:00:21 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note: Sexy dance!
THe rules were there so the women had a fail safe if the men got a little too friendly. Funny enough in the years Naomi worked here she had only ever had one big problem, and he was easily tossed out. Most men that Naomi danced for were both respectful and smart with what they did with their hands. Even with all the alcohol in them, though it did make some sense. See with all the money that they paid just to have her, not many men were willing to ruin their time with her. She smiled when he told her that she was good. She knew this, it was her job and she knew that she was good at her job, but there was something exciting about being told that she was good. She mentally gave this guy some brownie points, he was cool in her book, so far anyways. She used one hand to push her hair away and back behind her shoulders, that same hand moved from her neck, nails glazing over her skin and pausing to fiddle with one of the buttons to her top. She smiled, "Very interesting, I like that idea, but.." She placed both arms over his shoulders, gaining some balance as she leaned forward. Her lips were mere centimeters away from his, her breath smelling of mint. "Is it enough?" She then moved away from him, both hands and body sliding down and away from him. Her hands ran over his chest, stomach, she even made sure to move dangerously close to his inner thigh area. She even took time to notice Atticus's excitement, and pegged it as something that was because of her, that was the part of the job she liked the most. Yes the money was a big part, but making men want you, even though they knew that they couldn't, it made things very much fun for her. She got on her knees, then her hands and knees and processed to do some floor movements, which involved things such as arching her back, and then flipping over and laying on her back. She looked up at Atticus, she was basically seeing him upside down, but that did not make of a different to her as she moved. Her hands hands explored her body for him, she even teased him by running her hand down her stomach and sliding one finger, then two and three under her underwear, as if she was ready to slide them off. Yet she never did, instead she rolled back over, stood and took a seat in his lap. This time she straddled over his whole lap. Her hands grabbed his and placed his hands on her hips, let him touch a little, let him feel what he couldn't have. She then rocked her hips a little, just to add a little friction just for him. Her left hand hovered over her top, and she finally removed a button, but therein lies the problem. One button, she still had two others, they were straining, but still holding up well. Her large chest threatening to break free. "You said you enjoy creativity, would you like to creatively imagine that there was no buttons, or top?" Oh she was so bad, so good, but oh so bad. Outfit: here |
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Mar 30, 2013 21:44:40 GMT -8
Atticus smirked. “Is it ever?” he challenged, his gaze simmering, a forgotten feeling searing through his blood as Naomi crawled closer. She was too close. The brush of her arms against his shoulders sent a molten quiver to his core. His heart hammered in his chest, but he kept his cool—not so subtly balling his hand into another fist behind the couch in order to satiate the tension flaring in his veins. He could not however, help but be amused—and enthralled—by the ridiculous proximity of her lips; her breath smelled of mint, and it became increasingly clear as her hands travelled down and she shied away, that she didn’t just know exactly what she was doing—she was actually playing with him. Funny—he had compared her to an exotic cat before, flaunting its beauty and prowess on stage, but he had unwittingly fallen for her charm as well, and maybe wound up in the worst possible place because of it.
Atticus fist tightened as he felt her hands slide perilously toward his inner thigh. Before he could even think of what to say, she was moving again, his gaze drawn by her curves and motions, and he was attempting to distract himself by snuffing out his pipe and setting it off to the side. For what little good it did. The buzz in his head was now a full on drone, the discomfort washed away in an undertow of alcohol and bolstered by how good it felt, if only for a second, to feel alive. Atticus could not help but follow her fingertips as they drifted, then dipped under her waistline, a rumble leaving his chest that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It might have been the oldest trick in the book, but old tricks worked—and he found himself marveling over whether not her touch was as hot-tempered as he felt. Maybe not, he mused. There was such naturalness to the way she moved, without hesitation or fear, that he doubted if it aroused her in the same way it aroused him. His gaze was still lingering, a tautness in his lower body, by the time she decided to pull out of her pose and stand again.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” he growled at her, a latent laugh still hidden in those words before they died on his tongue. What exactly was…? Then Naomi was close again, in his lap, and something serious flashed in his eyes while her expression seemed full of mischief. There was a pent up feeling gripping his insides, one that might have been akin to hunger, and it’s feral pull was hard to ignore. “Not sure if that’s a good idea,” he muttered at first, suppressing another growl. There was some slight concern over how he would be able to keep himself from breaking her rules, but that quickly diminished. She had coaxed his hands, including his other arm slung over the couch, to her hips. Finally, she deliberately rolled and he grunted.
“Now you’re just being mean,” Atticus laughed, breathily. His brow had furrowed but his eyes were centered down near her stomach. Most of his fingers were hovering near the black leather, but his thumb had ventured, and ghosted over her skin. There was a brief flash of confusion as he touched her, as if a small part of him were remembering something very important, but it quickly dissipated. There was heat, it seemed, lulling him to react, and the more this went on, the more he began to loathe his pants. “You realize you broke the rule,” he said absently, his gaze catching on a faint, almost invisible line near her abdomen. His left hand moved subconsciously toward it, tracing a steady line across her belly until he paused in front of it. This close, he could tell it was a near invisible scar, but he did not think it marred her in any way. It was just…more character. Like the flick of an artist’s brush against a canvas at the last minute.
Besides. There were other things to admire as well.
Like her audacity. This time his grin was fuller, and so was his laugh. Oh, this was fun. Atticus couldn’t remember, especially not around the alcohol, the last time that he had genuinely used that word: fun. Granted, it came at a heady price; some of his thoughts felt as if they were free floating, not exactly rooted, but some part of him felt as if he deserved to have a little fun. Was it so wrong? And…nothing had technically happened yet.
“Touché,” he said lowly, watching with mild interest as she unfixed one button. “But I have another proposition. How about I take some creative initiative,” he offered, leaning forward a little. His right hand slid around her hips toward the dip in her back, steadying her, “and make it more interesting. Because you still have two buttons left.” Atticus splayed his other hand across her stomach, testing her tolerance as he slid his fingers up her body; he graced the lowest edge of the leather covering her breasts, withholding a grunt as he leaned her forward a little, his other arm still acting as support. Now it was his turn; he was centimeters away from her mouth on purpose, a feral edge in his smile. He grasped one of the buttons and flicked it out of the slit with his thumb. The silver shined in the low light, a teasing glint that matched the atmosphere. “There,” he said, voice still low. “You’ve got one left. That’s a challenge.” Especially with breasts like hers. Another chuckle passed up his chest.
"It's your move now, but I'm not sure if you can creatively work your way around losing another button. It kind of seems like it wants to pop off on its own, actually. But this is your dance. Not mine."
Time Stamp: April 28th, Adult Swim
Notes: -snort- As if I don’t know where this is headed.
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Apr 3, 2013 0:43:46 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note: haha, sorry.
His touch was intoxicating, she loved to be touched, there was a reason to have rules, but with this man, she felt that the rules could be broken, just a little. Though his comment about rules did not help change the way she felt, instead she smiled. "Oh really now?" In her opinion the rules were not really broken, she did not say no touching, just that touching was meant to stay to a low. Her excitement only grew as he continued to touch her, his hand moved over her stomach. She had to fight back a giggle, after all that part of her skin normally forced laughter out of her.
One button down and two to go, Atticus moved closer, but she did not shy away. No, instead she stayed still and just watched, rather interested in what he intended to do. What Naomi did not expect was the sound that escaped her lips. Due to all the closeness she couldn't stop herself from releasing a small moan as his hand moved up and over her skin. Just when she was sure that she should pull away he got closer, and then removed another button from her top. It was surprising that the last button did not give out, somehow it held strong.
A low growl escaped her lips when she was finally free, as if some wild animal had taken over. She had a devilish grin and she left his lap and crossed the room to the only pole in the room. She rested against is and smiled at Atticus as she grabbed onto the pole and pressed her body to it. She slid against it and left the pole, moved in front of him and moved her hands slowly, up and over her body. She stopped at that one lone button and was just about to free her breast at last when there was a hard knock. Naomi paused, listened closely to realized that her song was already over and that the knock meant that time was up. All she could do was smile and wave her finger in a silent no. "Maybe next time love, time is up, we should probably go check up on Marcos and that other friend of yours. You can stay here to cool off for a second if you would like."
She should have collected her pay, but she trusted Atticus enough to think that he wouldn't be running away without paying. She re-buttoned her top and stepped back out to the main floor. Before she could even make it to the bar she was stopped by Becca, who explained that Marcos left with some guy, and that he left his keys for Naomi. It was easy to guess, at least for Naomi, that Marcos probably left following his sexdrive. She only sighed as she went to the bartender and grabbed Marcos keys, then she ran to the back and got changed. She ended up in a plain, but still sexy, outfit. She wore a short black skirt and a white short sleeve top. She also had her backpack slung over one should. It only took Naomi a few seconds to find Atticus. "So Marcos and your friend is already gone, but I have Marcos keys, I'm getting off work now and will be driving you home. Come one."
She lead him outside to Marcos' car and hopped into the drivers seat, she turned on the car and smile. "So where to?"
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Apr 3, 2013 3:16:27 GMT -8
An exotic cat indeed. Atticus’ eyes flashed as he watched Naomi bend and respond to his touch, her body seeming to purr and simmer under his fingertips; he thought he caught a smile, or heard the beginning of a laugh catch in her throat, even. So he figured she must be having fun—and wasn’t that the whole point of this? To have fun? If only for one night, in one room; it wouldn’t hurt anyone…right? Atticus paused for a moment on that thought, a sour note flashing through his mind. But his gaze smoldered, his heart still thrumming in his chest, blood boiling. Every part of him seemed to sing in tune with the woman in his arms, and it didn’t help that he heard the hitch in her throat that might have been a moan. It was a sound he hadn’t expected, and it was a sound that drew him away from the doubts pressing on his mind and pulled every fiber of his attention back to her.
His smile grew, but only by a fraction. “If you’re a bit lost on what to do next,” he said lowly, “I can offer a few suggestions.” His thumb twitched against her skin, but in the few seconds of closeness he had with her, he pressed two fingers delicately to the last, straining silver button. Hard to believe that such a small thing could cause so much trouble, or for that matter, hold out so long. However, Atticus trailed his hand higher, passing over the remaining leather protecting her chest, his other arm that supported her back lifting, returning her to her previous position in his lap. Slowly, deliberately so, he snaked that same hand from around her back and toward her waist, freeing her from the cage of his embrace. Too bad—he had actually liked it, especially that unexpected lapse in inhibition on her part, that small moan that might as well have been a compliment. “Like I said,” he mumbled, “you’ve got one button left, and it’s your move.” He could not, however, resist dragging his hand down her waist, following the curve of her thigh; an act done as earnestly with his eyes as his hands
There was a hunger there, an involuntary bristle in him that mirrored the growl that finally pushed its way up her chest and reminded him of how indomitable she was. In some ways, that was what was so alluring about her: Naomi was unconquerable. He could not, in actuality, keep her. Atticus breathed a laugh; he could not help but admire the fire in her, but he had to admit he missed the burning warmth of having her so close—when she ripped away from him there was an uncomfortable emptiness left behind, and an immediate need to fix it. He did his best, however, to root himself to the couch; it helped to lean back and hook his arm over it as a failsafe, but in more ways than one, he felt like a hound tethered to a heavy chain, watching a fox strut just out of reach. Now she was sliding down the pole, a ferocity in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Under different circumstances, he might have found that look flattering, to think he could coax such a reaction from her, but at the moment it scorched him in places he didn’t want to think about.
Because thinking about it only made it worse.
At least Naomi had moved away from the pole. Her hands were pulling off that familiar, wicked stunt of trailing up her body, before they finally halted at that last, silver button. That damn button. However, just as he thought he saw her fingers wrap around it, his attention snapped to the door. A resounding knock echoed through the room, his entire body seizing in place as a startled zing shot down his spine. It was only then that he picked up on the silence that suddenly filled the space, and he remembered: the music.
“Are you kiddin’ me,” he growled under his breath. Only now did he remember there was a time limit to this shit; he warily raised one hand and rubbed his temple, an unhappy growl rising in his chest. But it was too late to say or do anything to change it; he lifted his gaze in time to hear Naomi apologize, only to have him respond with a weak laugh, “I’m sorry too,” before she was gone to check on Nantan and Marcos. “Damn it,” he growled, reaching for the arm of the sofa. It took a lot of effort, and he had to hold his breath for a few minutes while he stood, but “cooling off” actually required more than just a few minute’s rest. He walked, uncomfortably, almost limping, to the door and requested something from one of the bouncers out in the halls. He even offered a tip to have it rushed back, and he didn’t care one damn bit about his dignity when the guy returned seconds later with a bag of ice for his “headache”.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” was all the man said, before moving on with a shrug.
“I don’t doubt it,” Atticus growled back. He shut the door softly and thumped his head against the wall, closing his eyes, brow furrowed. Damn, that woman knew how to tempt a man straight to hell. The ice helped a bit, and by the time she returned, he was reasonably placated. However, his irritation rose to hear Nantan was gone. “Of course he is,” Atticus grumbled. Oh well—he needed to cut his friend some slack. Things hadn’t gone too bad. In the end, Atticus wound up grabbing Nantan’s forgotten jacket, tossing the remaining ice away and following Naomi out. She offered to drive him home, and at first, he considered arguing. But her legs—uh, she, was very convincing. He wound up feeding her directions as she drove—all that alcohol still swimming in his head—until they arrived at an apartment complex. He might have been missing one car, but thankfully, Atticus still had his keys on hand; he fished them out of his jacket pocket as he told Naomi where to park. As he lifted himself up and out of the passenger seat, he paused.
“I…owe you some money, don’t I,” he said, before glancing back at her. His hand tightened over the door of the car, briefly. He knew he shouldn’t. Damn it, he knew he shouldn’t offer but…but it was difficult not to. The night, the booze, that room, her. It all weighed so heavy on his mind but—but it made sense to offer, didn’t it? Hell if he hadn’t suggested something similar not so long ago. Atticus sighed. For all he knew, she might say no anyway, and he couldn’t really expect it—her job ended the moment that song did. However.
He wanted to ask.
“Do…do you want to come up for a coffee, or something before you leave? It’s late. Might not…be a good idea, to drive home alone tonight.”
Time Stamp: April 28th, Back to the Kiddy Pool
Notes: You’re not sorry. I’m not sorry. Let’s be honest. We’re just not sorry.
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on May 15, 2013 11:15:20 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note: Waited long enough?
It took little convincing to get Atticus to agree to letting her take him home. Naomi wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that she had just danced for him. To be fair, for her own safety, she should not have been so willing to drive him home. Never could be too sure about the people you meet at a strip club, but the guy was a friend of Marcos which added a few points in Naomi's book. At least she know enough to defends herself of he got too touchy, which at this point she really did not mind. After all the dance had been fun for both of them, and honestly even Naomi got a bit carried away.
She had a feeling he was no danger, and if he was, she was quite sure Marcos would had said something or left a note earlier. Since her friend had left his keys Naomi could only guess that Marcos would want her to keep an eye on his car and maybe even his friend. So she would kill two birds with one stone, drive the guy home and then take the car back to her place. She followed his directions, keeping quiet about the fact that she wasn't really allowed to drive a car, but details, who needed them? For Naomi it took not time in getting to Atticus' apartment and when they did pack she took a second to get look around. Even in the dark Naomi could tell that the area was a lot nicer then where she lived, mainly indicated by the lack of broken cars and gun shots.
The way he sad "“I…owe you some money.." didn't site well with Naomi, yes he owned her money but he seemed to be debating something. Naomi of course jumped to her own conclusions. Did he not have the cash? She had honestly forgot about him paying her, and in fact wasn't too worried about the money, at least at the time. It all went back to assuming that the guy was friends with Marcos, meaning that even if he didn't pay now she could always catch him at a later time. Naomi was honestly too laid back to her job when she added the word friends to it, much like when she let Marcos have her time on stage, or how she took his friend to a private room, not even checking to see if he had the cash to cover the dance. She was too nice, that was the conclusion she was coming too, but what she had to worry about now was what Atticus was up to.
"Yea you do..." She couldn't admit out loud that she forgotten, no that just wouldn't seem professional and would leave open to unanswered questions. There was a pause as she waited, noticing that he was debating something, maybe a question. Then he asked, go up for coffee? Even Naomi could feel that there was a hidden meaning to this offer, but now that he reminded her of money she just couldn't leave. She really couldn't leave after giving Star that lone, what was it? Naomi couldn't remember but she knew that there was a reason she was working extra just so she would have enough to pay her school bill next month. In fact the pay was due in three days and counting, she couldn't just leave empty handed.
"You know, coffee does sound nice." She turned the key and turned the car off. She then grabbed her backpack, opened her door and met Atticus on the other side of the car. Would she regret this choice later? Probably not, she was a big girl and could take care of herself. She still did not know what kind of guy Atticus really was, in fact she didn't even know his name yet. "By the way, I'm Naomi, might have forgotten to introduce myself earlier." She smiled and took a step back to give him space to lead the why. "Shall we go?"
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on May 27, 2013 2:14:43 GMT -8
And somehow that worked. Fair enough, he thought, the drone in his head wavering long enough to allow the coherent pieces of his original, blunt self to return. For an instant that same voice in his head gruffly asked what the hell Atticus thought he was doing…before it was snuffed out by his buzz. A valiant effort by his subconscious, but it simply couldn’t overwhelm the booze, and it definitely couldn’t prevent his smile. He only barely considered the money he would have to shell out once they were in his apartment, but he had his own stash, not to mention a few remaining bills in his wallet that should cover the cost. He just, for the love of him, could not say why he felt as if he had forgotten something more important than the money. In spite of that, he thought that the night had turned out much better than expected.
“Atticus,” he offered automatically in response, a cool glint in his eye. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t get that much out of me earlier. All you had to do was ask, Naomi. I would have told you anything you wanted to know,” he said, a hint of amusement behind his words before he turned away. Hell, with the way she danced he might have given her his damn bank account number—which might have been left unsaid but was fairly obvious. “You’re going to have to tell me how you like your coffee,” he added casually, leading them both away from the car. “And I’ll do my best to live up to expectations. It’s the least I could do.”
Atticus would take them up to his apartment without any unexpected speed bumps along the way, swiping a card at the entrance of the building to get past the main entryway, and finally swapping it out for his room key to let them in. He sighed when he finally opened the door, switched on the lights and stood aside to let her in. “After you,” he said politely, gesturing Naomi through. “And let me get you that coffee. You never did mention how much it’d be, by the way. For the dance.” He would close the door behind her softly and tell her to make herself at home, his gaze dropping once—quickly—before he retreated to the kitchen. There was a large sofa in the main living area with the television, and a table in between the two for convenience. Sometimes it was hard to ignore…the obvious. He suppressed a growl; he’d had too much to drink. However, he hardly fumbled around his own kitchen, which was a plus, and Atticus offered a cup of coffee to her not long after, his fingers lingering a few seconds when they inadvertently brushed hers. Slight tension settled in his shoulders at such a simple touch. He could remember not so long ago, sliding his hands over her skin, the rush of warmth, the sound she made when his touch ghosted over her near invisible scar, the—he lifted his gaze and met her eyes.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one remembering. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew he couldn’t get it out of his head. He slid his hand away from hers.
“Wouldn’t normally catch me in a strip club. But it really is a shame—the music didn’t last long enough.” He had previously taken some cash out of his wallet, and he reached into his jacket pocket for the bills now as he sat down on the couch. Naomi could take his comment how she wanted, but he meant it as an honest compliment. He held out the small bunch of twenties and tens that made up the total amount of the money he was willing to give her at the moment, a mischievous look in his eye as he glanced her way. “150 bucks for putting up with me,” he said, holding out the cash for her. “Well, 150 if there's another dance involved,” Atticus added, smirking, before he breathed a laugh. “Kidding. Bad joke, maybe. Can’t blame a guy for trying though. Here, Naomi. It’s yours.”
Time Stamp: April 28th, , temptation creek
Notes: Opted to skip thinking about major details on apartment because that would require a lot of thinking. And writing. So just basics here. Lol.
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Jul 16, 2013 20:40:03 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note:Naomi what will I do with you?
She laughed hearing those words once before, something about her dances being hypnotizing to some of the guest. Maye it was a hidden superpower, Naomi was sure that if she had such a power she would be getting bigger tips and back numbers from the people she danced for. Then when she became rich the cops would lock her up and label her cell "Dangerous and Sexy" Not that she would have anything wrong with that, three meals a day and curious men peeking in, she's be out in days. "Well next time I want to know your favorite color I'll remember that." She forgot to ask his name, so it only made sense that next time she would ask him something stupid, like his favorite color or movie. Wait, next time? Was Naomi already planning on ths guy being a regular? Marcos had only brought him around once, it didn't mean the guy would be coming back any time soon.
"You might find this odd, but I like my coffee black with a lot of sugar, maybe five or six spoons." She followed him over to his apartment, then entered it when he directed her too. She thought about her pocketbook (which she was carrying with her) and thought about that fact that she had no protection. What i something happened? She couldn't let him get at her with no protection, next time she would think about getting a bottle of mace or a knife. Well she would have to give him the benefit of the doubt, he was one of Marcos' friends after all, hopefully the guy wouldn't try anything funny.
He told her to make herself at home so she did, first she took off her heels (the things were killing her) and placed them near the couch. She took a seat and made a hmm'ing sound as she thought about how much to charge him. It was only one song. "We'll its normally $20 no touching and underwear, $60 with touching and then it goes up from there mattering on what you want, and what the girls are willing to do. Oh and plus tips, but you know that is all up to you." Then he came over with her coffee, she took it from him and their fingers touched as his hand lingered just a bit. Did she get some magical spark from the touch? No, in fact Naomi had just been working for so long in the hot and bother trade that it took just a little more to get her going, though she was still pretty easy.
"A strip club really isn't a bad place, its a good place to be with friends, get a few drinks and have some fun. What you take from there is up to you." Then he brought the money out and she was sold, mischievous look or not he had her. She needed the money and a second lap dance wasn't going to kill her. She smiled took the money from him and popped it into her bad, that would made a nice dent in her bills. Who knows if she played her cards right maybe she could turn Atticus into a regular. "You have a deal, but only if you can find me some music to dance to." She got up from the couch and crossed her arms under her breast, taped her foot and smiles. "Quickly before I change my mind."
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Jul 21, 2013 20:36:21 GMT -8
He did get a little carried away back at the strip club, but then she hadn’t really behaved either, so it wasn’t entirely his fault. To his credit, the monetary compensation Atticus offered for the dance was decent. He laughed under his breath as he rose from his seat, his gray eyes darkening as he stood in front of her. “I can manage that much, since you’re offering. Though I don’t think you’d really need music to help impress me at this point. You’ve already done enough of that,” he said, smiling. “You already know how terrible I am at following the rules.” He leaned a little closer, “Though you’re pretty terrible yourself, if I’m remembering right and the booze didn’t go to my head.” He paused, his gaze dropping a little, toward her lips, before he drew his eyes back to meet hers. “Tease,” he said playfully. “That song ended a little too early. And you were gone like that,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis, but it was clear he was having fun. “Lucky for me—there’s round two.”
Atticus left her there a second later to set things up, his head still swimming. He rubbed his eyes once or twice, but when he returned, there was a thrum of appropriate music playing. It was unlikely any of his neighbors would complain—he kept the volume low enough that the music wouldn’t seep through the walls. But it was loud enough that Naomi could find her rhythm quite easily. However, Atticus walked up behind her and paused, still wearing a wolfish smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He leaned over her shoulder, whispering, “Tease away.” His hands hovered near her waist—not touching—but close. “But maybe be a little kinder than last time.”
He did not want to repeat the ice incident. Atticus breathed a laugh into her ear and walked around her, returning to the couch. It was probably for the best that he keep a small amount of distance between them. Standing would only encourage more interaction—very specifically, action that might lead somewhere else. It likely gave him more control than her. And that’s what it really came down to—who had control over the situation. Atticus couldn’t trust himself entirely right now. She was beautiful, she had tempted him once already, and he had guzzled one too many drinks at the club. It was not a good idea to give himself more reason to misbehave.
Well.
Unless she started something.
Then that was all on her. He sat back on the couch, his gaze simmering, dropping already to her hips. “Same rules? Or different?” he asked.
Time Stamp:April 28th
Notes:
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Sept 2, 2013 20:35:49 GMT -8
Words: 000 Tags: Atticus Note:I can't control her >.>
She continued to tap her foot as Atticus got up and went to play some music for her. It never crossed her mind that this could go wrong in some way, all Naomi ever thought about was making money and having fun. She always told herself that as a stripper she still have her pride, that she was not trapped forever. It was one of the reasons she never followed Marcos or Tequila into the sex trade. She did not want to go that far, sure a one night stand or something was fine, but once money came into play it was something Naomi knew would make her feel dirty. Sure she was not an angel but Naomi was still willing to try and work hard for herself. It was the reason why she never let her family help her with bills, and why she stripped at night and went to school during the morning time.
She was the determined type, and her determination was leading her to do some stupid things, but for Naomi all that mattered was that she did it herself. When he returned, he came from behind her and for a second Naomi lost her train of thought and was distracted by his closeness. His whisper was a plea for her to be kinder, but now that he asked she felt compelled not to listen. Not that Naomi was the type to really follow the rules, oh no, instead she was the type to create her own rules. He left her and went back to sitting on the couch, probably a good idea on his end. Her hips swayed to the beat of the music, she moved nice and slow getting a feel for what she wanted to to. ”We’ll play it by ear.” Naomi couldn’t come up with any rules, it might have been because she would probably break them, or maybe because she liked to just play by her own and go from there.
She had to think about what she was going to do, her heels were already off, thanks to him telling her to make herself at home. She wore a simple black skirt and white top, really she had little to work with. She looked around the room thinking of ways that she could be creative, she might be a striper, but she was also a dancer with a passion for the arts. In the room there was a coffee table, which seemed sturdy enough for what she wanted to do. With a wicked smile she stood on top on the table and rocked to the beat. Her hands ran over her clothed skin, a tactic used to make the man wish that his hands doing the touching was his own. She decided to not make him suffer for too long and did eventually start to remove her clothes. First starting with her shirt, taking her time messing with it, pulling it up, then leaving it alone, just to pull it up and over. She tossed the shirt at him and laughed. She was having fun, stripping, no matter how sexural it could be, was also full of some fun.
Her skirt left her skin quicker, slipping off the second she pulled down the zipper. She danced in her underwear, once again at that point where she was ready to take over the only thing blocking view of her breast. Her simple lacy black bra, but like before she stopped and walked off the table. ”You know, I think you have just way too much on.” Was she stalling? Maybe, but Naomi was also a tease, something she would probably never grow out of. She walked over slowly and bent forward. She grabbed his jacket and helped him remove it, not taking no for an answer. She then straddled his lap and went for his belt, unbuckling it and holding it in her hand. ”I wonder, how mean I should be? How much would you hate me for a little tying game?” Funny thing was, she was on his lap, with his belt, she wanted to tie his hands and torture him, but who said he would let her, or not turn the tables perhaps.
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Sept 15, 2013 12:52:48 GMT -8
He quirked a brow, amused. “Promises, promises,” he teased, voice low after her suggestion. “We shouldn’t make promises we aren’t going to keep.”
And she should stop tempting him, the minx. He did laugh though, a sultry look about him, an inescapable fire, reconsidering her offer. “Turnabout’s fair play, love. I hope you realize that. But,” he trailed, dropping his gaze, re-admiring the lack of a few barriers between him and a whole lot of her skin. Yes—turnabout would probably be inevitable.
"I think," Atticus said slowly, a mischievous smile complementing the electric quality in his eyes, "that you might be a little confused." His hands were gentle, but just as powerful in their suggestions as Naomi’s dance movements had been, and when he first touched her bare skin again—the smallest hint of contact that followed the curve of her thighs, a ghosting tease, like a breath of heat—his gaze trailed a scalding path with those same hands, back up to her waist. Then there came a devilish change in his touch, only seconds after she had triumphed over his belt; he became more ardent, wrapped one strong arm around her waist and touched his open palm to her lower abdomen. The music grew distant to his ears, he splayed his eager fingers over her skin and followed the natural dips and curves up her body, her clothing having left very little to the imagination. Then all of the sudden, he had snapped his attention back to her eyes, his mind consumed, a shadow of familiarity—a memory?—just out of his grasp. The pause lasted only a second, maybe the only blessing the headiness of all that booze imparted on him.
“It was mean to call it quits on the rodeo earlier; that was painful you know, and that ice was cold. But it’d be a stretch to say I’d hate you for having a little fun.” He leaned forward a little, scant centimeters away. “Be sure you know what you’re doing though. I’m trying to behave myself here. To an extent. And you’re making it extremely difficult to do so. You’re missin’ a shirt, and a skirt, and god knows what else is gonna come off if you keep at this pace.” As if to illustrate his point, his deft fingers had been at work while she might have been distracted by conversation and the belt in her hands; she would have felt the remaining garment over her chest loosen suddenly though, not necessarily falling away, but open.
He smirked almost wolfishly. “I’m not new to the game,” he said cryptically. Just a little rusty.
Notes: I’m thinking. Fade to black soon. Just because it’s difficult to dance around details at this point anyway. xD
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NAOMI IRVING
Civilian
Student Stripper
Posts: 41
MINI INFO - GENDER: Female
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: September 11th, 1987
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Adult Entertainer
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Post by NAOMI IRVING on Sept 17, 2013 18:54:56 GMT -8
Something in Naomi just snapped, no, more like it fell away. With all her worries, school, family, dating, she just needed a little stress relief and Atticus was about to be the man to give it to her. His hands ran over her body, exciting her. She leaned into him, placed her lips to his ear and whispered. ”Then lets play.”
FADE TO BLACK
The next morning, April 29th, 2012, 5:00am
Naomi woke up the next morning, she felt rested and rolled over slightly to feel the body of another laying right next to her. It took only a moment for her to get her baring, the bar, Atticus, coming over and then finally sleeping with him. The first thought in Naomi’s mind was wondering if she should tell Marcos or not, but then decided that she was better off not. She carefully left the bed as she scanned the room for something with the time on it. Five AM ? Well at least that meant that the sun would be up soon enough. Naomi glanced around for her clothes and realized that most would be found in another room. She moved quickly to change and find her bag and shoes.
She shuffled in her bag and found a few things, one was a pre-paid phone and the other was a pen and a piece of paper. Although she hardly ever picked up her phone if Atticus was lucky if he called her she might answer. She left her number on the table and then headed out the door, down to Marcos car and as she pulled out to the road she gave Marcos a call. ”Yes I know its early, I’m coming to get you, give me an address.” Just like that she drove away for Atticus’ place, half wondering if she’d be seeing him again anytime soon.
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Sept 19, 2013 21:35:06 GMT -8
What did that clock say? 11:00a.m.? Or 1:00p.m.?
“Well. Shit,” Atticus grunted. It was the former, but either way, he still slept in, and he had a small, almost unnoticeable headache pulsing behind his eyes. He spent a moment in bed, fighting a growl with his hand over his face, shielding himself from the light streaming around the blinds covering the nearby window. Hn. Other than the headache, he didn’t feel too bad, actually. He definitely wasn’t dreading the calls he would have to make to the parlor to keep the interns and artists from panicking over where the hell he was—which was odd. Normally, he’d spend the remainder of the day in an irritable mood because he had upset his own schedule. But for some reason, he was indifferent to it all—in fact he felt as if he could arm wrestle a damn bear and come out victorious. He felt—great? Was that the right word? To hell with it, he thought. He pulled his hand away from his eyes and attempted to sit up.
Only to realize that as the blankets began to fall away, he was buck ass nude. That took a few seconds to digest. His mind instantly flashed back to the days with his wife, and for a moment he sat there, staring at the door to his bedroom, wondering—almost marveling—over the possibility that the past two decades, give or take, had been nothing but an unwanted dream. Or nightmare. But Atticus noticed a distinct lack of weight around his neck, and when he looked, his necklace with her ring, wasn’t where it was supposed to be. That instantly jarred him out of fantasy land and slammed him right back into reality. The night came rushing back to him, and he practically jumped to his feet, searching the room desperately for his ring. Her ring.
“A strip club of all things,” he growled through his teeth. Guilt momentarily overwhelmed him. While the memories were rushing back, and the euphoria of those feelings were still strong, he felt as if he had done something…wrong? No, another thought whispered. It wasn’t. But Atticus was confused. Naomi had been extremely nice to him. And last night had been—well, he needed last night. He felt fantastic, renewed somehow, and happier. But those feelings were worn down by all the negative ones—the guilt, the confusion, the sense of betrayal. He was still married, dammit. His wife still meant the world to him, and by the time he found her gold ring on the floor, behind his bedside table, he was utterly lost about what exactly, he should be feeling.
It seemed to dangle heavily from its chain as he lifted it up to make sure it wasn’t damaged. And as he ran his fingers over the delicate curve of precious metal, his eye caught something else waiting for him on the tabletop. A sheet of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. Atticus lowered the ring and necklace into his other hand, closing it in his fist.
Just what in the hell had he done?
Notes: Guilt trip ahoy!  Also, thread is done.
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JESS¿
Main Admin 
CRUEL WOMAN
Posts: 328
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Post by JESS¿ on Sept 20, 2013 9:52:36 GMT -8
| | | Finished Thread
You have been rewarded with ONE RESIDUE as this thread is now complete. It has been placed in the archives under the 'finished' sub-board. You are more than welcome to PM fate if this thread is not finished or if you are unhappy/unsatisfied with the amount of residue that has been rewarded. Keep up the great work and keep posting with other members.
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Also, thread is done.
