Status: in progress.
Temet Nosce
One
The dimly lit Victorian themed pub was filled with the unmistakable scent of cigars and heavy, pungent perfume. Majority of the people lounging on the elegantly cushioned chairs were making small, unnoticeable gestures and were whispering softly, as if, by any chance they spoke too loud, the atmosphere of the place would be completely ruined.
The setting was quite romantic. Antique scarlet-tinted satin lampshades standing in the middle of the velvet red covered tables were the only faint source of light in the room. The wallpaper was royal-looking and intricate that its details seemed to stretch out into the dark oblivion of the room. The smooth jazz music flowed through out the place, which, with the help of the alcohol, seemed to have relaxed everyone. It eased their everyday tension and stress and making them feel more comfortable than they usually were when they were inside their own homes.
The entire scene could have been an oil painting from the 19th century England, depicting the extravagant and leisurely lives of the young upper middle class; except, it was the 21st century, and the people were wearing clothes that would have obviously stuck out 1861.
Perched languidly in a high mahogany stool by the bar was a fiery red haired girl in a short, skin tight black dress, wearing black leather stiletto heels and her slim legs draped on top of the other, who went by the name of Hayley Jane.
The martini glass’ long neck held between her thumb and index finger, she swirled the big, plump olive around the clear cone shape, all the while eyeing mischievously the three men that were surrounding her, ogling at her face and body hungrily like rabid predators that have not had their meal for the day.
Of course, all three were gorgeous and undeniably sexy.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Which one should I choose? But it didn’t matter, anyway. She was in power. She could have just one, or all of them. She was sure they wouldn't mind.
Hayley felt the corners of her mouth rise into a devilish smile. Would it be Thomas, a wealthy young business man searching for some fun? He did look deliciously good in a tux. Would she choose Curtice, a French model? His green eyes were already seducing her, enticing her toward him. Or should she pick Storm, the tattooed and pierced rock star? There was something about his rakish demeanor that made Hayley want to do something daring.
And so she did. Gracefully, in one fluid motion, she glided off her stool and walked away, hearing the sound the high heels of her boots were making against the hardwood floor. Hayley walked slowly, hands behind her back, not checking if they were following her out the pub, up the stairs, and into her hotel room on the second floor. But when she finally got to her door, she turned around to see them looking at her eagerly like dogs waiting for their treats.
Smirking to herself, Hayley pushed open her door.
The setting was quite romantic. Antique scarlet-tinted satin lampshades standing in the middle of the velvet red covered tables were the only faint source of light in the room. The wallpaper was royal-looking and intricate that its details seemed to stretch out into the dark oblivion of the room. The smooth jazz music flowed through out the place, which, with the help of the alcohol, seemed to have relaxed everyone. It eased their everyday tension and stress and making them feel more comfortable than they usually were when they were inside their own homes.
The entire scene could have been an oil painting from the 19th century England, depicting the extravagant and leisurely lives of the young upper middle class; except, it was the 21st century, and the people were wearing clothes that would have obviously stuck out 1861.
Perched languidly in a high mahogany stool by the bar was a fiery red haired girl in a short, skin tight black dress, wearing black leather stiletto heels and her slim legs draped on top of the other, who went by the name of Hayley Jane.
The martini glass’ long neck held between her thumb and index finger, she swirled the big, plump olive around the clear cone shape, all the while eyeing mischievously the three men that were surrounding her, ogling at her face and body hungrily like rabid predators that have not had their meal for the day.
Of course, all three were gorgeous and undeniably sexy.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Which one should I choose? But it didn’t matter, anyway. She was in power. She could have just one, or all of them. She was sure they wouldn't mind.
Hayley felt the corners of her mouth rise into a devilish smile. Would it be Thomas, a wealthy young business man searching for some fun? He did look deliciously good in a tux. Would she choose Curtice, a French model? His green eyes were already seducing her, enticing her toward him. Or should she pick Storm, the tattooed and pierced rock star? There was something about his rakish demeanor that made Hayley want to do something daring.
And so she did. Gracefully, in one fluid motion, she glided off her stool and walked away, hearing the sound the high heels of her boots were making against the hardwood floor. Hayley walked slowly, hands behind her back, not checking if they were following her out the pub, up the stairs, and into her hotel room on the second floor. But when she finally got to her door, she turned around to see them looking at her eagerly like dogs waiting for their treats.
Smirking to herself, Hayley pushed open her door.
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