Who: Morgan and Nico What: Meeting Where: The Espressamente Illy, Palazzo When: Backdated to after this Warnings/Rating: Talk about kinky activities.
The Espressamente Illy was some coffee stand at The Palazzo that wasn’t anything special. Nico was not impressed and slightly irritated, but he needed the pain to stop the GCPD idiot in his head from getting too much of a hold. If this was what he had to do to get what he needed, then he’d give her this, but he wasn’t convinced he’d jump through too many hoops for this. There had to be someone who’d beat him up and he could honestly get it done for free if he got into a bar fight. It just wasn’t the same though. So he arrived at The Palazzo two hours early and enjoyed his third cup of coffee for the morning, sitting and watching the people. He was dressed in a casual grey suit and white button down shirt, not expensive by any means but certainly not cheap either. The point was to make it hard to discern exactly what he did for a living while still proving he had the money to afford whatever the fuck kind of arrangement she wanted. If she was as good as she thought she was.
The two hours passed with relative ease and a local paper was the perfect way to unassumingly watch the people who made their way through. Very few people sat and stayed the entire two hours, but those that did weren’t alone and that was a good thing. It meant he wasn’t being set up or nothing. Not that he expected it, but still. It never hurt to be cautious in his line of work. At approximately five to 11, a woman in red appeared and he watched her carefully, waiting to see if there was any indication that she was the woman he’d arranged to meet with.
A woman traveling alone, especially a woman like Morgan, got used to behaving in ways deemed 'safe'. Never meet anyone you don't know in private, no matter how well you thought you knew them. That was rule one. If he hadn't agreed, her little anonymous 'friend', she wouldn't have met him, plain and simple, as things rarely were with her.
The Espressamente wasn't much to the casual eye, or even the casual drinker of coffee, but Morgan had coffee across more continents than not and she knew a perfect cup when she tasted one. There was no casual perusal of the menu as she walked up to the counter to order her cappuchino, the thicker boot heels clicking against the tiled floor.
People tended to have an idea of what she should look like and wear in her line of work, but Morgan went with whatever she wanted. Today, a red blouse made of fine Italian silk, dyed a deep, dark red, almost closer to a burgundy with the top two buttons undone. It was tucked into a pair of soft, black leather pants, not shiny but closer to a pair of riding pants than something one would wear to a club. Clubs were no longer her scene.
She smiled to the barista as she took her cappuccino and paid for it, her "Thank you," polite and quiet before she went to find a table of her own. There were a few people sitting around, but her eyes didn't linger on anyone, not even the well dressed man sitting by himself as she took a seat of her own.
Whoever the woman was, she was certainly attractive. Those leather pants hugged her curves perfectly and the blouse fit her body extremely well. If she was the woman from the journal, at least it’d make it a little easier. She was pushy, determined, and that would make it easier to sit there and take the beating he needed. It wasn’t quite about being forced to submit, although sometimes that happened, or so he’d heard. It was just about getting the damn cop in his head to go away and mind his own fucking business. The less of a footing he gave him, the better off they’d all be. Nico was certain of that.
The woman ordered her coffee and then took a seat at an empty table not that far from where he was sitting. It was just 11 then, so he set left his newspaper and walked over to her. Surprisingly, there wasn’t another woman dressed in red so he simply pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. “You enjoy sleepin’ in?” he asked, voice gruff, but not annoyed. He was relaxed, leaning back against the chair with his legs spread slightly, the picture of ease. She didn’t know his name and he didn’t know hers. That was as discreet as it could get. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
The drag of the chair legs over the floor had her glancing up to the man approaching her. Both eyebrows lifted, the question on the tip of her tongue as to what he was doing, but as soon as the question was asked, she smiled at him. Pretty blue eyes. But they had that hardened look in them, reminiscent of a hard life. There were no immediate warning bells though, nothing to suggest that he might put her in danger.
"It was delightful," Morgan replied, an easy laugh accompanying the words. He was well dressed, expensively so, but the suit didn't hint at what he did for a living. Nor would she ask -- if he decided to give up that information, it was his choice and she was fine without knowing. Leaning back into her chair, her fingers wrapped around the slender handle of her cup -- a real cup, not one of those plastic ones for easy transport. "Have you been here long?"
Nico was more likely to shoot himself before hurting a woman, same with a child. He’d scare ‘em, sure, but he’d never hurt ‘em or lay a hand on ‘em. In fact, he was just as likely to cut a man’s hand off, if not outright kill him, for hurting a woman. He scared off plenty of prospective boyfriends for his sisters and some of the other girls he kept an eye out for. This woman didn’t have any reason to be afraid of him and he’d do his best not to give her one. She laughed and he just shifted in his seat, not uncomfortable but certainly not all that thrilled to be there to begin with.
“Not long,” came Nico’s short reply. Two hours wasn’t long by his standards and it was worth it to know if this was a trap or not. He couldn’t tell how old she was and he wouldn’t have guessed that she was into beating guys up, but that didn’t really matter. He’d be able to tell pretty quick if she knew what she was doing or not if they got into it. “How long you been doin’ this for?” he asked. Good a place as any to start.
The uncomfortable shift had an eyebrow quirking upwards, but Morgan didn't comment on it. She'd seen plenty of people that were simply feeling the itch that she knew what it looked like. He didn't have the eye darting jerk of someone hyped up on something, nor the finger twitch of nerves. And perhaps, once he had gotten his skin loosened up for him, he might be downright pleasant. It was hard to tell.
"I started in my early twenties," she said honestly. Tomas had been into anything that got him off and while she'd been on the bottom more often than not then, being under him had always sat funny on her skin, like a garment that just didn't fit quite right. Once they'd broken up and after Sunny, when she had a chance to explore the things she wanted to do, she found out why it felt so wrong. "As for meeting men I don't know from the journals, I can say that you're my first," she said with a smile as she lifted her cup up to take a silent sip.
Nico was impressed. He put her at anywhere from thirty-five to forty which meant she had between fifteen to twenty years experience. That was pretty damn good as far as he was concerned, provided she didn’t have a string of complaints against her. He was about to ask a follow up question, but then she was a smart ass again. His lips twitched, turning downwards just the slightest bit for the briefest of moments. So not funny. “You crazy or anything?” Didn’t look it, but damn that mouth of hers. Nico had a feeling if Leo had been around, he’d be betting on who would crack first and his money would be on the lady in red. “Just wanna know what I’m gettin’ into.”
That downturn of his mouth had her tilting her head slightly to the side. A man like this, probably didn't laugh often or at least, didn't recognize playfulness. Or perhaps he was just that hard up. "No," she said mildly, lifting the cup up to her lips to take another taste. "I even have a clean bill of health from a psychiatrist." The cup went back down as she looked him, no longer quite as easy in her assessment of him. "How many times have you done this, blue eyes?"
“Good.” Nico figured he’d find out for himself eventually and it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle someone crazy. He didn’t ask to see a doctor’s note or anything like that, mostly because he could guess why anyone in their shoes would go see a psychiatrist. If his line of work had been different, he might’ve gone to one too, but it was much easier to pay someone to push the voice away. “A few times. Enough to know it does what I need it to when I need it to. The question is can you do it.” He was going to leave it at that, but then, after a few minutes, remembered he actually wanted this woman to take him on as a client. “And will you.”
Morgan could see it in the hesitation, the slowness of the question that wasn't phrased like a question at all. But there was something in those eyes, a grudging, scalding plea that made her smile. "You have to give me a name. Not your real one if you don't want to--" she'd had plenty of clients that preferred a pseudonym for the first few times, some guise of anonymity that they believed protected them. Reaching for her cup again, she finished off the cup and left it sitting upon the table as she stood up. "Follow me, we can talk and walk at the same time."
When Nico was a little boy, he learned to never ask for things from anyone, least of all adults. He was the man of his family and, as such, needed to be able to handle things on his own. The first, and before today, the last, time he asked anyone for anything was from the elder Giacoma. Now he was asking this woman for her help because he could not do it on his own. It felt emasculating, like he was admitting he couldn’t get an erection or that he was dirt poor (neither applied to him). It wasn’t something he did often and it was as close to asking as Nico was willing to get for the moment. He bristled at the request for a name but before he could reply, she asked for them to take a walk. That had to be a good sign.
He stood and let her choose a direction for them to walk in before falling into step behind her. A name. Nico had been so dead set against giving her his real name, but this could get ridiculous fast. As long as all she wanted was a first name and she didn’t go digging more than the cops, she wouldn’t know anything he’d have a problem with. “Nico.” And if she thought it was a pseudonym, that was just fine with him. “What should I call you?”
"Morgan," she said with a smile. There were plenty of women in her line of work that went by different names, different titles, but those days were behind her. She didn't want anything false and she didn't want someone calling her by a name that wasn't hers. It wasn't a persona, it wasn't some fragment of her personality, but this was a part of her.
Her pace slowed so that they were walking side by side and she stayed close enough to indicate that they were having a private conversation without hanging on him. "You know I'm going to need to know what you've done before. What you enjoyed, what you didn't." There was a distinct impression that he was going to give her the short answer of 'pain' which told her very little. "There are many ways to inflict what you're looking for, I simply need a starting point."
Morgan. Nice name. That was about all the thought he gave to it, not particularly caring if it was her real name or not. Honestly, he was pleased it wasn’t something stupid. It was hard to take someone seriously when they had a stupid name. She stayed close, but still managed to give him some personal space and he was grateful for that. Their conversation topic didn’t embarrass him by any means and he didn’t think she’d be embarrassed by her job profession, so he had no problem having this particular conversation in public. “Right.” Nico nodded and fell silent, thinking about what he had experienced after starting with this.
“I’m not in it for sex or pleasure or anything like that. Get that it happens, but it’s not why I do it.” He wasn’t really interested in explaining it either, so she’d have to really try to get it out of him if she wanted it. “It was just basic stuff, she said. Restraints, crops mostly. I’m open to whatever gets the job done.” Maybe it wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Not for pleasure? That earned a quirk of her eyebrow, just a minute lift before it settled again. "Sex isn't on the table." And the way she said it suggested that not only was it not on the table now, but it never would be. She offered a service that did not include the proverbial happy ending. "How did they work on getting the job done?"
“Good.” He had that covered already and he liked the arrangement he had with Trystan. This was business though, not pleasure, and Nico was perfectly fine with that. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have respected her if sex had been on the table. “Usually left me red and striped along my back. Only rule I got is nothing where people will see. Don’t care if it lasts, don’t care if it scars. Just need to be clear by the end of it.” By clear, he meant clear in the head, and he tapped the side of his temple to indicate as much.
By the time he mentioned that he needed to be clear, Morgan already understood what he meant and nodded as she opened the door to the Palazzo and stepped outside into the sunshine. "Do you normally wear suits?" If he was a suit man that gave her a wider area to play with, but if he was the type to swear t-shirts and shorts , that changed where she could leave marks on him. "I'll try not to leave scars."
“Pants and t-shirts usually. Sorry.” He wasn’t, not really, but he could at least be polite. She opened the door and he immediately reached to keep it open for her and then for him, sliding shades on with his free hand automatically. He hated the sun. It was the worst part about Vegas, the fucking heat, but Leo called the shots and he made plenty to keep his place at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees. “Don’t care if you do. Have plenty already.” Of course, those scars were from knives and bullets, but she didn’t need to know that either.
"Oh, don't be." She didn't actually think he was, not with the careless way that he said it. "And don't say you are when you aren't. I only needed to know how much of your body I can't leave marked," Morgan said and smiled as she slipped her own sunglasses on to block the midday sun out. "Scarring someone is an intimate thing," she added quietly. And if he already had his fair share of them, enough to not care about another one, what was significance of another? It would have no meaning, not to her and especially not to him.
Nico looked at her a little more closely but only nodded after a moment. He didn’t apologize because he wouldn’t have meant it. He did, however, make a mental note that Morgan was sharp and she didn’t take shit. It’d be somewhat of a challenge for him to not want to test her at every show of dominance, but that was what he was paying her for, wasn’t he? Otherwise he could’ve just gotten into brawls whenever Gordon was too loud or too pushy. “Didn’t know,” was all he offered when it came to the admission about scars. “Anythin I need ta know?”
For him this was less about exploration and more about pain, it seemed to her. If it had been the opposite, she might have had him fill out a questionnaire, learn more about his tastes. "Is there anything you don't want to try?" She asked as they navigated the sidewalk. "And, a safeword if it gets to be too much for you." There was always that possibility and she did not like to wait until they were there to negotiate anything.
“Dunno what else there is. Do what works til it doesn’t then worry about it?” Nico was hoping that would be good enough because he honestly didn’t know anything about it. He tended to dive head first in certain things because he believed he could handle most things he might encounter. He still firmly believed that he could overpower the woman walking next to him if absolutely necessary, but he didn’t think it would ever come to that. She was reasonable and decidedly not crazy. “Uncle,” he added, “for the safeword.” His lips twitched upwards in a smile at that. Crying Uncle. Ha.
That made her laugh. Uncle. "All right. We'll start with what you've used before and then move onto some other things, see if you like them more, or less. Then you'll know." And then she'd know as well. "I'm going to give you my phone number. Call me tomorrow, we'll make an appointment." When she had her calendar in front of her and could book something without having to juggle five different things to make it work.
Nico nodded, agreeing without saying anything unnecessary. He pulled out his phone, one of three he had on him, and handed it over so that she could put in her phone number. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a flip phone that could take a person’s name and number, capable only of texts and calls. He had a ‘work’ phone that was a burner as well and then his personal number that very very few people had. The phone he handed Morgan was a personal burner and he took it back with a nod of thanks. “Tomorrow then.” And he fell back and melted into the crowd the way he was so good at.