Innocence Lost || Closed

Vance was what they called a “frequent flier” at the underground, secret bar he found himself in this particular Friday night. The bar was so secret that it didn’t officially have a name, but those who chose to give it one simply referred to it as Bar Noir. The patrons of the bar were there for one purpose. It was the place where Doms looked for subs and vice versa. The bar made that task easy. The rules of the place were simple; keep your mask on and tell no one your real name. This was so true identities could either be revealed in the confines of a private room—Bar Noir had plenty themed ones to offer— or not revealed at all.

Vance’s mask was a simple black leather one, covering up a good majority of his features spare his eyes, mouth, chin, and jaws. The name he went by was constantly changing, just to switch it up and see if anyone could recognize him by voice and visible features alone. He’d had a rough week in his personal life and wanted to let off some steam at the bar. His last long “relationship”, if you could call it that, with a sub recently ended and he was looking for another to take their place. He was one of the few that preferred to keep the masks on and true names a secret. He preferred to keep this part of his life as compartmentalized as possible in the hopes that this secret, dark side of him would never cross over into his “real” life. Vance was very adamant on keeping his fantasies fiction and his reality real.

He found himself sitting on a plush leather couch off to the side of the ballroom-esque room. The tall, thin man wore a pair of dark washed jeans, a black shirt, and leather jacket over it. Many chose to wear formal wear, but that really just wasn’t Vance’s style. The lights were dim and the evening was young. The dance floor was remarkably empty, but it quite often was. Most of the dancing was done behind closed doors, but there were a select few who preferred to show off their more voyeuristic intentions on the dance floor—sometimes with multiple dance partners. Vance sipped his gin and tonic as his bright eyes wandered the bar for his next sub, or at least someone who was a worthy sub for him. He had quite particular tastes; many had attempted to measure up to them, but only a few had really thrilled him.

---

“You’re getting a bad rap around here, ‘V’,” the bartender said, shooting the woman a poignant look from behind his half-skull mask as he passed her a glass of champagne. Veronica merely let out a soft noise of disapproval before taking the glass flute in hand and sipping it. She turned from him and leaned back against the bar, dark eyes surveying the room. She was wearing a black bustier top that had sheer paneling on the side and a oxblood, leather pencil skirt that barely let her walk but showed off her womanly curves far too well for her not to wear it. The thigh highs she wore bore a black stitch that went up the back of her legs and she pulled the whole pinup look together with a pair of sky-high heels and what she called her “Bettie Page” wig. Her natural hair color was auburn, but some nights she fancied changing her outer appearance as much as possible. Hence the reason why she wore a deep red leather mask that was sculpted and stitched to look like a fox. It shadowed the majority of what people could see of her eyes, but left her chin and lips in plain view. Tonight she was wearing a deep burgundy lipstick.

“It’s not my fault the men around here are so…extravagant in their requests,” she replied bluntly. Maybe she was a bad sub, but she had a proclivity for questioning a lot of things that were asked of her and rolling her eyes. To be honest, most Doms didn’t even give her a chance after a few moments talking to her, but she was anything if not persistent, so she continued to visit Bar Noir. She was a supervisor at her work, so she continuously felt like she was bossing around people all day and pushing them to achieve even the simplest of tasks. That’s why in her private life, she decided it was time to have the tables turned and to be told what to do.

She stood by the bar in the hopes that one of the Doms would order a drink and request her to bring it to them. Sometimes they stopped by the bar and chatted her up and that was enough social interaction to get her through the night. Veronica lifted a relatively lonely life, only having a small circle of loose friendships—maintaining a social life and a work life could be hard. Don’t even mention having a relationship. She supposed that’s why she found her way into Bar Noir in the first place; she got to be social and maintain a relationship with a Dom of her choosing—which honestly hadn’t gone too well up until this point.

Nathalia stood by the door to her boss' office, she was holding some papers in her arms that she had to drop off before she left. She didn't like walking into his office, especially when he wasn't there. She placed her forehead on the door and groaned. ''You're a grown woman, for god's sake,'' she hissed at herself. Picking up her face, she stood upright, took a deep breath and opened the door.

A sweet scent of cologne hit her, it was obvious he spent a lot of time in here. The office was old-fashioned, yet modern. Oak and cherry-wood mostly, and a splash of metal here and there. She walked around the desk and sat in the big cliché leather chair. It made her feel powerful, but also very small. The chair almost swallowed her petite frame. She brushed a hair away from her cheek and put down the papers. She leaned in over the desk and rested her chin in her hand. The things on the desk were usual office stuff, nothing out of the ordinary.

Her eyes stopped at the title of the folder. Vance Covington. She stood up, struggling a little in her deep blue, almost black heels, plus the fact the chair was so soft and low didn't help her at all. She pushed the folder with a finger till it was laying straight. After making sure everything was in order in the office, she left the intimidating room. She then went over to her stall, saying her goodbyes to her colleagues. She grabbed her bag and left the building, feeling extremely ready to get home and relax.

The ground was wet when she stepped outside. The faint smell of cologne had been replaced with rain, she took a deep breath and just stood there, enjoying the calm that came over her. She started walking in the direction of her apartment, nodding to the people passing her. She looked at her watch; 11:31; and Friday. The clacking noise of her shoes caught her attention, and absentmindedly she changed direction and ended up in front of her second favorite place. Bar Noir, or The Nameless. She liked that it didn't have a name, it was mysterious and original.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a royal blue velvet draped skirt, with a white dress shirt tugged in and a black middle-lengthed trench coat. Underneath the dress shirt, she was wearing a white lace bralette which ended just above her belly button. It wasn't a bad look, and if she lost the dress shirt it would be even better. She quickly took off the trench coat, looked around and just as quickly lost the dress shirt. She stuffed it down in her bag and pulled out her mask at the same time. A stiff white lacy moon-shaped mask, it made her brown eyes and caramel skin pop. Not to mention her hair. She tied it up and knocked on the door.



Logan sat at the bar, furthest to the left. He downed another shot of god knows what. He shivered after he swallowed, ''What's in these?'' he said loudly with a voice full of disgust, not really directing the question to anyone though. The bartender shot him a dirty look. He licked his lips and moved his bright red carnival mask, so it wasn't digging into his skin. Disregarding the disgusting taste of the shot, he ordered another one.

He turned around in his chair, lazily looking around, scanning the people inside. He wasn't exactly looking for an arrangement at the moment, but he enjoyed the atmosphere, and he certainly enjoyed looking at the ladies. He took a sip of the shot, it was still disgusting, but sipping it seemed to make the taste more bearable. He placed the glass down on the bar, leaving more than enough money to cover his drinks with it.

He stood up and stretched, letting out a noise that sounded like half a moan, half a growl. He placed his hands in his pockets and headed for the toilet. He walked along the bar and passed a pin-up looking woman. Her curves made him turn as he took a closer look at her. He tipped his head to the side and winked at her before moving on. He really had to piss. He quickly entered a stall and unzipped his pants, throwing his head back as the pressure left his body.

@ salander.
//Hope this is okay //

Vance stretched himself out on the couch, draping an arm over the back of it as he let his eyes wander over the few patrons that were in the bar. For a Friday night, it was rather dead, even if it was early in the night. Then again, he figured that the majority of the people who frequented the nameless establishment were a bit of night owls and came out only under the cover of nightfall. Maybe this would prove to be a slow night for them, who knew. He thoroughly hoped not. It had been a long day at work and if there was one thing he hated the most, it was extra effort for a fruitless endeavor. He would not be going home tonight having accomplished nothing.

He knocked back his drink, waving over one of the scantily clad waitresses in corset tops, bloomers, and bunny masks and ordered another one. Typically, he liked to boss prospective subs around to get his drinks, but since there weren’t any in the bar he hadn’t attempted at before, he’d utilize the waitresses instead or for now, at least. Running his thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes followed the girl over to the bar on the opposite side of the room before he dropped his gaze once more to the marble-topped coffee table in front of him.

The floors of the place, at least the ballroom area, were a dark polished concrete that went well with the exposed steel beams that held the place together and exposed plaster and brickwork on the walls. The ceiling, however, was high, vaulted, and reminiscent of whatever had been housed in this establishment prior to being the bar. It was beautifully constructed plaster work that harkened back to the revival of the ancient greeks, all filigreed sculpted. Vance could appreciate it. When the waitress returned with his drink, he gave her a grateful nod and took a sip of it, leaning back into his chair and continuing to let his eyes wander the bar.

---

Veronica lifted a brow at the man who was loudly making a scene at the end of the bar, wondering who he was. She shot a glance to the bartender who returned her glance as she sipped her champagne. She hadn’t seen the man before—that’s not to say he hadn’t seen her before— and it piqued her curiosity a bit. There were quite a few characteristics she shared with a fox, hence the reason for picking the semblance of one for her mask. As he passed her by, her eyes followed him beneath the shadow of her mask, lips curling up at one corner at his wink. She needed to get a feel for this one and she wasn’t going to wait for him to make the first move. Her gaze left him when he disappeared into the restroom and she immediately turned to the bartender.

“I’ll need a Cherry Bomb, napkin, and a pen,” she told him with a grin. The bartender shot her another look before acquiescing to her request. He slid her a napkin and pen first, watching while he made her the shooter she requested. She wrote a few lines on the paper in her neat, cursive handwriting before pressing the paper to her lips and leaving behind a mark of her dark, red lipstick.

“You know this is bordering on Dom behavior, right?” The bartender questioned and she blew off the comment as she grabbed the shooter and stepped over to the men’s restroom. She shot a look around to be sure no one was following her in and she entered the toilets boldly. It was a bit brighter than the bar and the slinky, low bass line of the music they were playing echoed in the room. Her heels clicked on the floor as she stepped over to the sinks, resting the drink on the napkin on a sink furthest away from the stalls. The note read: ’Try this. It’s better.’ and nothing else.

Her chocolate brow gaze glanced over to the stalls for a moment before she slunk her way back out of the bathrooms and stopped just outside of the door. She leaned back against the wall beside it, clasping her hands behind her back as her eyes roamed over the bar. She may have been a bit forward, a bit out of the normal for what a sub would do, but she where was the fun in sticking to stereotypes.

@ salander.

Nat went straight to the bar, looking over the drink card. She wasn't in the mood to drink till she wasn't in her right mind, so she just went with a beer. The bartender slid the bottle across the counter, she grabbed it and took a big swig. She was surprised at how empty it was, how dull everyone looked.

A waitress appeared beside her, asking for a gin and tonic. He bunny mask was slipping a little, making the waitress look like she had it rough. It made Nathalia think about how lucky she was, having a normal job. She took a deep breath and downed her beer, she let a hand run through her naturally dense curls. Her eyes followed the waitress over to a man who thanked the waitress with a nod.

The music started to get louder as people wandered in through the doors. It made her feet move and her hips sway. She smiled, chatted up some other women and men, just trying to get a feel of the people filling up the bar, making the air almost vibrate with life. She looked over her shoulder, back at the man, her body still swaying to the music.



Logan stood there as he heard the clicks of heels against the tile floor, he froze, unsure whether to speak or just be quiet and finish his business. He chose the latter and zipped up his jeans, slowly opening the stall door. He stepped out and looked around. For a second he didn't notice the drink, but his eyes quickly went back to the glass.

''What the hell?'' he muttered and stepped closer to the sink. He noticed the napkin, ''try this, it's better?'' He felt slightly creeped out but also amused. He sucked on his teeth, trying to decide what he should do. He knew better than to taste it, there were some psycho ass bitches out there, and he didn't wanna end up being their playtoy. He picked up the glass and sniffed it, didn't smell weird. He raised the glass above his head so he could look at the bottom. No grainy residue on the bottom.

He shrugged and walked towards the door having both the napkin and glass in one hand. He opened the door, making it swing open. He noticed little miss curvy standing outside the door of the restroom. ''Oh hey foxy. You the one tryna' poison me?'' he smirked and shook his head towards the bar. ''Come on,'' he reached the bar and sat the glass down, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. He didn't wait for the woman, he knew she'd follow him, if she was the one behind the drink.

Vance ran his tongue over his teeth as his gaze wandered over a few of the people strolling in from outside, wondering if there was something in the group that would make his evening worthwhile. He sipped his newly acquired drink, humming softly at how much more gin there was than tonic in this one than his last. It was normal for his drinks to get progressively stronger as the night went on. He figured he wouldn’t have too many drinks. It wouldn’t do for him to lose control of himself. Drinking was not the reason many people came to this bar.

His eyes then connected with a beautiful, lithe-looking woman with tanned skin and thick dark brown curls that cascaded down her back. She was in a white mask, white bralette, and blue skirt; a pop of color and light in an otherwise darkly dressed crowd. It wasn’t that alone that caught his eye, there was the fact that she seemed to occasionally be shooting glances over in his direction. What he could see of her pretty features drew him in, but the whole point of this place was to be attracted more to bodies anyways.

Slowly, he stood from the couch, rolling his shoulders a bit before he slowly made his way out onto the dance floor toward the woman, drink in hand. A small grin played around his lips as he cut through the dancing bodies, eyes locked on her and paying no notice to the woman who were shooting him hopeful glances to get his attention. He stopped just beside her, the only still body in a mass of dancing patrons of the bar.

He placed a hand gently at the small of her back, nothing too intrusive or forward as to not make her uncomfortable, and leaned in to her ear, so he could be heard over the music and din of the crowd. “Are you spoken for?” He questioned, noticing just how pretty she was up close; her full, pouty lips, her clear skin the color of cream mixed with coffee, and her polished appearance.

---

Veronica grinned to herself as she noticed the bartender she had been talking to was shaking his head a bit in her direction. The moment the door to the bathroom opened up, she perked up a bit, gaze slipping over to the man who held her drink and note in hand. She noticed it hadn’t been touched and she lifted a brow, humming shortly as her eyes slipped over him for a moment. Nice, very nice.

Her grin widened into a fully-blown smile at the nickname he bestowed upon her and a quiet laugh left her at his comment. “Depends on what you consider poison,” she retorted smartly with the shrug of a single shoulder that had the soft waves of her hair bouncing slightly. Her eyes trailed over him once more before she followed behind him with her short, sharp stepped. Easily, she lifted herself up into the seat beside him, turning her body toward his in her seat and crossing her legs at the ankles. “You don’t trust me,” she told him, more of a statement than a question.

Without another word, she grabbed the drink and downed it, tilting her head back to let the liquid slide down easily, even if it was an easy shot to take. She set the glass back down and waved over a bartender, leaning forward slightly in her seat to tell him her order. “Two more Cherry Bombs, please. Hold the poison, this time,” she added with a wink to the man beside her as she righted herself back in her seat. “I think the whole bar knows how much you liked your last drink. Figured I may point you in a different direction,” she said, raising her voice slightly over the music. “The name’s ‘V’…or Vixen or foxy…or whatever you wish to call me.”

Nathalie's body tensed up when she felt a hand on her lower back. She started to relax when the hot breath from the stranger hit her ear, she shook her head. ''I am not,'' she turned towards the stranger. Her eyes widened when she recognized him, ''Oh! You?'' Her cheeks immediately turned a tint of pink.

It was the man whom she had been stealing glances at since she came in, the one the waitress served. She shifted her weight from leg to leg, trying to compose herself. She quickly inspected him from head to toe, noticing his black and leather attire. She noticed the slight stubble underneath his leather mask, she could tell he was handsome. ''What can I help you with?'' she asked sweetly and looked straight into his eyes.

She broke their eye contact and turned around towards the bar, quickly ordering a gin and tonic. She picked up the drink and faced the mystery man. ''I noticed you like these,'' she smiled and raised the glass as if she was about to hand it to him, but instead, she raised it to her own lips and took a big sip. She licked her lips and picked up the eye contact.



''I consider girls like you poison,'' he said in a somewhat cold tone. He looked as she gulped down the drink, ''I'm not a fan of cherries, and frankly I don't trust you, no.'' Logan let out a deep sigh as she winked at him, he rolled his eyes and watched as the bartender made the drinks. They were placed in front of him, so he slowly picked up the glass, dipped a finger in it and licked it off. Very sweet and a little sour.

He shrugged, ''Can you blame me? It isn't every day I get a drink served to me while I was still taking a piss.'' He noticed the bartender snicker and make eyes at Foxy. Logan grinned. ''But I can't lie, it was pretty endearing, so thank you.'' He met Foxy's eyes and took his time as he got a good look.

''So what is such a lovely little fox like yourself doing here all alone, among the big scary wolves?'' He asked and took the shooter, wincing at the sour and sweet taste. He clicked his tongue, ''Yeah no that is not for me'' he said and pointed to the empty cherry bomb glass.

Vance could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the pads of his fingertips, loving the feel of her muscles tensing slightly under his touch. When she spoke and stated that she wasn’t spoken for, which he would assume she knew meant he was asking if she’d been paired with a Dom or was under an agreement with one, he knew that he wouldn’t let this one out of sight all evening. When she finally turned to him and realized who he was, he couldn’t help but grin to himself.

His bright eyes slipped over her as she studied him, noticing just how gorgeous this woman was up close. Vance lifted his gaze to meet hers when she questioned him, a lion-like grin still playing around his lips. “Well, I was hoping you would—“ his voice died off as she turned from him to the bar and he stepped a bit closer to her, out of the way of a few dancing couples. His brows lifted as he heard her order, knowing this could not have been a mere coincidence—which she confirmed with her next statement. He liked the fact she’d been paying attention and it seemed when she was offering him a drink, he realized that she could also learn quickly—something he valued. He lifted his hand to take the glass from her, despite still having quite a full glass of gin and tonic left, but dropped it to his side once he noticed she was lifting it to her lips instead. His eyes flashed with a sort of unreadable emotion, gaze sweeping over her once more.

Glancing down to her lips, he let a soft hum as her tongue swooped across them. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, grin a bit more crooked than before. “But do you like them?” He questioned, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her. “Would you prefer sitting and talking over drinks or dancing?” He continued, letting her know in his own particular way how she could help him.

---

Veronica’s brow furrowed at his comment, thankful that her mask shadowed a great deal of her emotions; the woman didn’t have a pokerface. “Ouch,” she said, sitting back on her barstool a bit, “that one stung a little.” She kept her gaze on him, watching the roll of his eyes and his disinterested sort of appearance. “If you want me to leave you alone, all you have to do is say so,” she offered kindly, keeping any sort of venom or malice out of her tone—though she certainly wanted to ream him over hot coals for his attitude. That was the supervisor in her wanted to come out—the “real life” her she was desperately trying to suppress.

It was her time to sigh as he spoke next, hands folded on her lap as the bartender dropped off their drinks. She smiled a bit as he thanked her and she shrugged again. “It was meant to be more ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and a little less creepy, so I apologize for putting you on edge,” she told him, keeping her gaze on him. “And you’re welcome,” she added, reaching out and taking her glass in hand and knocking back the shot as he questioned her. She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, relishing the slight burn of alcohol on her tongue.

“Oh, probably the same as everyone else here. To put it delicately, I’ve got particular itches that need to be scratched in very specific and particular ways,” she replied, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she placed the glass back down on the bar top. “I’m not afraid of big bad wolves either. Most foxes are too smart to be caught by them anyways,” she added, gaze set on him as he took the shooter. Her dark red lips tilted upwards at one corner and she tilted her head to the side. “What do you like then?” She questioned, knowing between her and the bartender, they weren’t having any luck with this guy.