Poet slash sexaholic seeks same (vaportrail) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-10-31 22:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, filipe nascimento, muhammad benhamou |
WHO: Filipe/Lidia Nascimento [BRAZIL] & Muhammad Benhamou [BELGIUM]
WHAT: Oh, just a dude hooking up with his best friend's female alter-ego. MOVE ALONG, NOTHIN' TO SEE HERE.
WHEN: Wednesday, October 31.
WHERE: The Halloween party!
WARNINGS: dis some PG-13 shit, yo.
STATUS: Complete!
Mo ran his hands over his face and down his scraggly synthetic beard, gazing out somewhat cross-eyed across the elaborately decorated dance floor. A jack o’ lantern winked at him, and he winked back — then, realizing his mistake, quickly glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. Phew, in the clear. He was tripping balls, of course, and he knew it — but he was doing such an excellent job of Acting Casual that no one had yet suspected a thing. Sure, he was dressed as Rasputin, complete with false facial hair and a rather ridiculous fur hat, and he’d just pulled Understanding into a dance that might’ve qualified as polka. But it was a Halloween party, and this was how normal people behaved at parties, even without taking three times the recommended dose of their anti-anxiety medications. Muhammad smiled a secret smile. He was a master at this Deception. Only then did he realize he’d been standing in the middle of the floor shock-still for a good long minute, so he oh-so-very casually moseyed on alongside the pack of women on his left. Peacock women. Beautiful, dangerous, intimidating. If they were piano concertos, he thought, dreamily, they’d be Rachmaninoff pieces, leaving you with sore fingers, cursing your own inadequacy. He was so proud of this analogy that he nearly blurted it aloud to no one in particular, but reined himself in before his lips could move. Play it cool, boy. He felt a hand brush by his shoulder, and his eyes followed it to its owner. Lidia. He let out a breath, feeling his knees start to tremble beneath him as he looked at her. The getup was, appropriately, a peacock — or more accurately, sexy peacock — and she had really. Well. Wow. That was quite — hello. He’d often wondered if it was acceptable, on any level, to lust after your good friend’s female alter-ego, and had often come to the conclusion that no, please Muhammad, no. Easier said than done, he supposed. “Ummm, hello, Lidia,” he said, cool as a cucumber. “How — how are you?” The parties at IVI would never, ever compare to the parties in Brazil, and the mild disdain that Lidia felt about the Halloween affair was written all over her face. The funny thing about being Lidia was that she largely ignored Filipe's presence in her mind, so much so that her alter-ego usually just saw these moments as an opportunity for an extended existential nap. Therefore, she had known it was a stupid idea when Filipe decided that he was going to go as "Lidia" as a costume, because she had already planned out her own costume - a peacock. The one thing that Filipe and Lidia had in common was a flair for the dramatic in terms of clothing, and so Lidia was decked out in sequins and feathers and looked more like an abstract impressionistic idea of a peacock rather than the actual bird. However, she knew that she looked good. She'd been standing around talking to some of her friends when she had been inspired to talk a walk and mingle, to maybe show off a little bit. The first person she ran into was Muhammed, and he was just always so entertaining to talk to if only because he was so strange. A little bit like Understanding, but perhaps cuter? "Hellooooo," she said, purposefully drawing out the word. "I wish there was some alcohol at this party. But other than that, I am good! And how are you?" He looked a little - something. Dazed, perhaps. But Lidia couldn't quite put her finger on it. “Oh, ummm, excellent, yes, very good, very good,” Mo replied, his beard starting to slide up to his ears, where it was suspended by elastic. He smiled benignly, not having the presence of mind to fidget with it. “I am also missing the alcohol, oui,” he lied, because he actually did not miss it a bit (how devious he was!), “It is so strange to do these things...” — and his eyes darted to the side and back — “sober.” The music transitioned into another song, something faster-paced with a vibrating beat. The girls surrounding them began to dance with renewed vigor, and fearing he might lose her to the allure of the pop song, he shouted over the noise: “YOU LOOK VERY BEAUTIFUL. DO YOU — POLKA? UMM, DANCE?” Lidia reached over to pull down Mo's beard and smiled. She started to say something about his awful facial hair, but then the music picked up and she really did not feel like having to shout to be heard. "I do not polka," she began at a normal volume, but then realized that Mo probably hadn't heard her at all. However, this was a good song, and Lidia started involuntarily moving to the music. At least there was one thing about this party that wasn't too terrible. "BUT I DO DANCE!" She placed a hand on his shoulder, which was supposed to be some kind of universal 'let us dance together' symbol. Trying his best not to act like a schoolboy over the fact that she was touching him, voluntarily, with her actual body, they danced. Mo wasn’t a bad dancer, as it happened, even if he was all limbs that looked in danger of flying off from their attachments. Some girls like that lanky, underfed look. Some girls thought he was pretty hot shit. The thought threatened to send Mo into a fit of hysterical laughter, but Lidia chose that precise moment to grab his hips and spin him around, now facing in the other direction. From several feet away, he saw Understanding give him a serene nod — almost like a blessing — and then, abruptly as before, he was spun back around. “I love your costume,” he said, the music melting into something somewhat calmer. He said this mostly for an excuse to look at her cleavage, to which until now had been a monumental effort not to stare and drool. “Do you make it yourself?” Lidia noticed how skinny Mo was when she spun him around, and filed away that information for later. For what purpose she didn't quite know, but she was sure it would come in handy...Anyway, Lidia spun him back around as the song shifted, and she was glad because this would give them more of a chance to talk. She had vague knowledge of Mo from Filipe's interactions with him but thought now would be as good a time as any to get to know him better. "Of course I made it!" she said, laughing. "You do not BUY these things just anywhere. But my costume would be so much better if we were in Brazil, but - are you staring at me?!" He gave her an impish smile, like a grandchild caught with its sticky fingers in the brownie mix, and clapped a hand over his eyes. “Not anymore,” he said, though after a beat, he slid his fingers open to meet her eyes through the crack. With his other hand, he gave the furry poof atop his crown a little tug. “Are you guessing what I am?” Lidia laughed - she could forgive Mo, just this once. Next time she caught him staring, though, he would have to learn some respect. She tapped a finger to her chin in an exaggerated display of being deep in thought. "I have no idea what you are supposed to be," she said at last. "An old man? With a beard? I just do not know." “I am Rasputin!” he declared, throwing his hands up in a manner he presumed majestic. Then, seeing her blank look, added: “umm, the Christian mystic and infamous advisor to the Russian czar, who cause the fall of the Romanov dynasty? Ra-ra, Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen...” And still, she remained unimpressed. “...umm, you have never seen Anastasia?” She stared blankly at Mo, trying to figure out who the hell he was talking about. The name didn't click until he mentioned Anastasia, and then suddenly all of the pieces fell into place. "Oh yes, I have seen that movie! You know, I am thinking about this now, and I just remembered - I have heard some...interesting things about this Rasputin." She looked around as though she were about to relay a huge secret and then leaned in close, lending a conspiratorial air to their conversation. "I read that he had a very large penis," she whispered into Mo's ear. Mo nearly choked on a breath. “I read this also,” he said, sounding hoarse all of a sudden. Like a true schoolboy should, he felt the stirrings of something Down Below — really, Muhammad? This is all that it takes, for you? — and had to resist the urge to look down, lest she follow his gaze down his black Orthodox robes and find more Rasputin than she was expecting. “Russia’s greatest love machine, they call him.” Against his long-gone better judgment, he winked. Lidia raised an eyebrow at his words - Russia's greatest love machine. "Oh, is that what they call him? That is fascinating. Are you sure that you can live up to that name?" She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, trying to hold his gaze long enough for it to be unnerving. She was definitely flirting with him, and it was definitely something that she should not have been doing - it was sort of an unwritten rule between her and her male alter-ego that Lidia would not make advances towards any of his close friends. That always made things weird. Besides, it had already been strange enough with Richie, and Filipe didn't even know him. “Well, you know I am not Russian, but...” And here he looked down and off to the side, hiding a smirk somewhere in the dark. Muhammad was not an Alpha Male by any means; aggressive eye-contact was not a duel he could win. Instead he feigned shyness and returned her gaze only after a beat, all big brown-eyed and earnest. “I think it is good for us, to try.” Lidia almost burst out laughing at that moment but steeled herself not to so she could keep up her unbroken eye contact. "You are so interesting," she said at last, hoping that the compliment was not so vague that it sounded insincere. She then blinked once, finally, and smiled. Puppy dog eyes were not going to work on her! At least, not yet. "You must have chosen to be the greatest Russian lover of all time for a reason. Just like I chose to be a peacock because I like to show off." “It is a good job you do,” he assured her. “But me, almost I am wishing I did not choose to be the greatest Russian lover of all time. Is very hot, inside of his clothes.” He said it without the slightest intent of entendre, running his forearm across his face and fussing with his hat. “Don’t tell anyone, is secret —” he began, theatrically glancing from side to side, “But actually, you know, I am not wearing anything underneath these robes. I don’t say nothing, though. I don’t want everybody to think I am some kind of sex pervert.” "I am not wearing anything under this costume, either," Lidia said with an exaggerated wink. She reached out a hand and placed it on Mo's shoulder, then gently trailed her hand along to his collarbone and then down his chest. "You know, I really could not tell. These are very nice robes." “Oh, they better,” Mo said primly, at the same time he was snaking his arms around Lidia’s hips. He could be cheeky now, because hey, she started it. “These, the robes of the Russian Orthodoxy. They make protection from sin, vice, and Bolsheviks. Now, me, I am immune to the advances of wayward women and socialism.” This was too funny. Later, Lidia - or, more accurately, Filipe - would look back on this hazy memory and he would feel very, very strange about it. So, this was also doubling as a kind of intricate revenge against her male half for constantly keeping her locked up inside his mind. And it wasn't as though Filipe ever did a very good job of satisfying his carnal needs anyway. "But no one has ever turned down my advances!" Lidia said dramatically, feigning shock and surprise. "You cannot possibly be immune to me." Mo bit his lip, cocking his head to the side, universal code for kiss me, I’m too coy to do this myself. He said: “I don’t know. Maybe you should make an advance, just to be sure.” "Not in front of all of these people," Lidia said, knowing that having an army full of witnesses would get her into even more trouble tomorrow - more trouble than she was already facing. She stepped out of Mo's grasp and grabbed his hand, then began to weave her way through the crowd of people. She only turned once on her determined walk out of the party, and that was to shoot Mo a quick smile. |