vignetting (vignetting) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2008-05-18 18:19:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | eurydice, mallory harper, orpheus |
Who: Mallory & Damien
Where: Vice, then the park, then Damien's apartment
What: College girls are easy.
When: Oh so very backdated. This was started when Damien was hired, took forever to finish, then schedules prevented it's completion and posting.
Warnings: Long. Cheesy pick-up lines. Snogging. It was never entirely finished, so here is the "taking far too long already" cut version of it.
It was Damien's first Friday night working at Vice. First actual night since he'd gotten word that he'd been hired, and at what rate. Not bad. If he husbanded his money, it would definitely help to stretch out his savings. As for food, ramen was cheap and filled an empty stomach rather handily.
As his new employer had not specified any sort of a dress code, Damien assumed there was none. If he was wrong, he was sure he'd be told about it. Tonight he wore a slightly faded Sonata Arctica tshirt, and stone washed jeans - no holes, he wasn't one that went in for that sort of thing. His appearance depended upon his mood and/or his whim. Tonight he simply wanted to hang loose and be mellow.
He brought both guitars, planning on using both, and started his first set promptly at nine o'clock. At nine forty-five, he ended that one, a slight sheen of sweat upon his brow from the lights, but content that he had pleased his audience. Leaving the stage, he approached the bar, asked for tomato juice and some spices, which he added himself, before taking the glass in hand, returning to a position near the stage from where he could survey his environment and take in the audience he couldn't see all that well from the stage.
It had been decided that afternoon at lunch, by several friends of Mallory's, that the photographer was not going to be spending that evening locked away in a dark room in that creepy house - no ma'am. It was for this reason that the college adult found herself sitting at the bar, alone, nursing her third rum and coke of the night.
The trio of loud women arrived shortly after the live performer for the night came on, and it was shortly before the break in his set that Mallory was left to her own devices. Anette had to leave early, and Marla had found some unfortunate male to latch onto for the remainder of the evening.
Mallory didn't so much mind - she could watch the redhead on stage without hearing them chit-chat with one another over her, or try to get her in on scoping out the passing men. Nope, her attention was (for the most part anyway, when there weren't two of him) on the musician until this part of his set ended, at which point the brunette simply began to look over the crowd and make snide inner comments about them. That'd pass the time nicely...
He spotted her, sitting alone, watching the world about her, and somehow he knew that she was passing judgment upon it in some way, perhaps to mask the fact that she was alone, with no one to talk to? Why was a pretty girl like her alone, he wondered to himself, as he lifted on well shaped thumb and scratched idly at one red eyebrow. Ah, his not to question why, his but to do or die.....
He may not be five hundred, but he was certainly one, and that one found himself intrigued by the girl in spite of himself. He stood, stretching himself up to his full height, and wound his way between the tables toward her, only pausing to acknowledge the kind words of the patrons who clapped him upon the shoulders and told him he was good. He smiled at them, listened to them and when they'd moved on, kept moving himself, until he stood before her, idly jiggling the glass in his hand, watching the red liquid form miniature eddies.
"You look bored," he commented, a touch of humour in his voice, "is there anything that I can play that might bring a smile to those pretty lips?"
She was in the middle of trying to figure out of one person she saw was a man or a woman when she was snapped out of it by the voice beside her, and Mallory turned. Oh, why hello there~
"There are plenty of songs that can do that," Mallory replied, "Though if you are able to guess my mood so easily, you can probably think of a good song with just as much ease."
She had spirit, he liked that, sliding into a chair across from her without waiting to be asked. "I'll consider that a challenge," he replied, "can I buy you a drink before I do?" He signaled to one of the waitresses, once she has approached, he said, "Buy this beautiful lady anything she likes, on me...." and then waited for her reply, as his mind began to formulate answers to her questions.
He stared openly at her, gaining the measure of her, taking in everything about her - and definitely not finding it lacking, even in the rather dim light of Vice. At least she had not denied that she was bored, so what could he do to bring her back to life? And help her to lose the ennui?
Originally, she opened her mouth to protest the drink, as nice of a gesture as it was, but instead spouted out for another rum and coke when the waitress approached. She was working up to a pretty good buzz from what she already had, and anymore other than this one would put her over the edge. This was certainly not an opportune time.
Mallory was a little surprised at being looked at, and began to wish she had gone for more than a fitted David Bowie t-shirt and equally fitted jeans. But, she shrugged off the regret and she snickered at the redhead. "A challenge, then. I'll try to pay attention." Of course, that wouldn't be hard. It had already proven difficult to divert her attention during the first part of his set.
Not being one to waste a moment like this, Damien leaned in toward her, his eyes fastened upon her face. He was no stranger to acapella, and since his instruments were both on the stage behind him, it would have to do. And he didn't eschew singing a song that normally was sung by a female - he had no such gender issues, it was the music that counted, as he pitched his voice for her along, and began to sing, "Ever felt away with me, just once that all I need, entwined in finding you one day, ever felt away without me, my love, it lies so deep, ever dream of me......"
He wasn't sure why he had chosen that particular Nightwish song other than he loved it, but when he looked at her he saw dreams, although just what the dreams were of he could not say. Love? Perhaps. Yes, love... but didn't everyone dream of that?
Mallory became as stiff and straight as a board when he leaned in closer to her, and while she was momentarily paralyzed in surprise of the unexpected performance, she hoped to whatever deity was Up There that she did not look like a silly deer caught in green headlights.
The shock didn't last too long before she was relaxing as the words flowed from him, or, it was more like the sensation of melting slowly. The whole scenario seemed oddly familiar. Different place, different time, a different melody, yes, but the familiarity of it fought to bring a small smile to her face in spite of the drunken need to out-challenge the very attractive male singing to her.
He finished his song, letting the chorus echo away. "Dream of me..... dream of me......" He could see that she was no longer bored, but rather her attention was riveted upon him. And yes this seemed so very right, so very familiar, that for a few moments he made no movement, nor attempted to speak, letting a comfortable silence fall between them - well, as much as silence as one could get in a noisy bar on a Friday night.
But it was as if about them there existed a type of magic, which drew them into a place of their own. As he sang, unbidden, his fingers had come to rest upon one arm. And he left them there.
Bar? What bar? They were in a bar?
The college photographer hardly noticed that the people that chatted, drank, and danced around them were even there. What was it about this stranger that made the smile win and creep on her face, and made her stomach feel like it was doing flips? It certainly could not have been the rum, though it was more than accurate to attribute that to the heat she could feel rising in her face as it became a familiar shade of pink.
"Did I manage to cure your boredom?" he asked softly, pushing back his long red hair with his unoccupied hand, his green eyes challenging her to tell him the unvarnished truth. There was something about her, something that he instinctively l liked, although he could not put his finger on just what that was. "I'd hate to have a beautiful woman come away from one of my performances suffering from ennui....." he added, a small smile upon his lips.
"For now," Mallory admitted with a small nod. Truthfully, her brain would probably be far from bored for the rest of the night. "But no worries, instead you will have a woman come away from one of your performances with at least four drinks and a beautiful song stuck in her head," she said with a grin.
"I like the sound of that," he said, glancing at the clock to check how long before he was due to begin the next set. Just a few minutes now. "I could offer you more music after I close down here, if you'd be interested. No drinks, I'm afraid, just music......" He cocked his head, regarding her with more than passing interest. As a rule, he didn't pick up women, they picked him up, but somehow he was making an exception for her. "My name's Damien, by the way, Damien Carroll....."
Mallory snickered. "If I have any more drinks, I think I'll fall off the stool anyway." Which was why one hand was making an effort to hold on to the edge of the bar when it wasn't occupied by the drink. These things were naturally unstable. "But, yes, I'd like that. And, I'm Mallory."
He held out one slender hand, the one that wasn't still perched upon her arm, reluctantly realizing it was time to go. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly, before handing it back as he rose. "Where would you like to meet? Inside the club or out?" Either way was good with him, once he'd finished his last set.
It was hard to fight off the smile at the gesture (which was seemingly quite plastered to her face at this point). "Outside." Because she was sure she wasn't going to be the only woman waiting for the end of his set that night.
"Until then, my queen," he said, rather impulsively, I must admit before smiling at her one last time, and returning to the stage, picking up his Yairi, gearing up for his acoustic set.
Damien was watched as he moved back up onto the stage and through most of his set. She was, occasionally, distracted by a few people walking around her or her friend returning briefly, but she was patient. And when the musician's set was over, Mallory dutifully paid her tab and headed outside for the fresh air and the wait.
Damien packed up his guitars, carrying them from the club easily, humming to himself, a Nightwish song, as he bid the bartender good night. Exiting the club, he glanced around him for Mallory, smiling at the sight of her. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting," he grinned, "and I hope you were more suitably entertained than before?"
When he found her, she was leaning up against the wall of the club a few feet from the entrance, shutting off her cell phone. No random texts tonight, thanks. "You can say that," Mallory replied with a smile.
"I'm glad, I hate to see beautiful women bored," he said, "where would you like to go? The park? A random street corner? We could go to my place, but I'm afraid it's not much to look at." He motioned in the direction of his car as he spoke. "Your wish is my command...."
"I'll pass on the street corner, thanks." Mallory grinned, and pushed herself off the wall with one foot. She had sobered up quite a bit during the rest of his set. "Your place, the park, my place is okay too though I don't live alone you wouldn't know it... Up to you and your car." As she had come with friends, and, well, the last one left twenty minutes ago.
"My vote is for the park," he said, "I'm a fan of nature, myself. Given the opportunity, I'd sleep outside if I could." He pointed out his faithful steed, aka his vehicle, as he reached in his pocket for his keys, opening her up, and setting his instruments in the back, before opening the passenger side for her. "Do you need a coat or will you be warm enough?" he asked her.
She shrugged, and seated herself inside the car when it was her cue. Chivalry? Check. So far this one had a lot going for him. "I've slept outside a lot. I'll be fine."
"Have you now?" he asked, sliding behind the wheel. "Are you a girl scout or something like that? Or just into camping?" He put the car into gear and pulled out of the club's lot, into the late night traffic.
"Camping, if you could call it that. There have been a few times where I've slept in a tree." Mallory said with a shrug. "I'm just a nature person."
"Nothing wrong with that, I prefer playing outside myself," Damien said, glancing at her from time to time, although most of his attention was on his driving. "I think there is just something so natural about music and nature, something you miss when you take it inside. Too many people miss the music that surrounds them, you know?"
She nodded. "It's sad, but it's true, and little can be done to change it - unless there were more people who happened to be so good at it, like you." Mallory shrugged again. Hey, it was flattery, sure, but it was true.
"Thank you," he told her, "but actually I was referring to the sounds of nature. The rhythm in the sound of the rain, a clap of thunder.... a running brook..... the wind in the trees as it passes through the trees, or the sound of leaves skittering across the grass. The gods have blessed us with so much, it's sad to see such gifts ignored." He turned into the park entrance, pulling into an unoccupied spot - well they were pretty much all unoccupied at this time. Good thing the parks didn't all keep conservative hours. "Ready?" he asked, turning toward her.
"I knew what you meant," she nodded anyhow. "Ready," she confirmed - though not necessarily sure what she was agreeing she was ready for.
He was at her side of the car, opening her door, before he retrieved the acoustic from the backseat, leaving the cast behind, putting it on its strap around his neck. "I didn't bring a blanket, hope the ground is alright," he said, but somehow he suspected she wouldn't mind, as he led her to the path leading into the park. "It's what I usually do when I play....."
If she slept in trees, the uncovered ground was more than fine, and she followed him with little argument. The empty park in the night, the clear light of the sky over them, almost seemed familiar. But the city lights didn't work well. "So you end up out here often?"
"As often as possible," he said, "I love to play outside. The weather here makes that pretty easy. I mean where I come from March is fucking cold, and there's snow on the ground often as not. Florida's heaven compared to that." He picked a spot at random, and stopped walking, offering her his hand with which to lower herself to the ground.
Mallory accepted the offered hand and seated herself down on the ground close by. "Try living in Vermont, You want Fucking Cold, you go to New England."
"Been there, no thanks," he said, "but you're right. That makes Missouri seem like a fucking sauna." He took up a crosslegged position near her, guitar in his lap, strumming his fingers across the strings. "Do you have any requests, Miss Mallory?"
In thought, she remained silent for a few moments. "Something original. If you have anything, that is."
"You must be a mindreader," he said with a smile, "I have my own compositions, indeed..." He began to sing something unlike the material he had played at the club, more of a ballad, romantic and old fashioned, whch spoke of eternal love - one of his favourite subjects, coaxing the guitar as well as his voice to sound as mournful as possible, and at the same time hold forth the promise of a special love.
And she listened intently, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Gods, there was something about the way he sang, and even sometimes what he sang, that seemed to really appeal to her. "Brilliant," Mallory said once the song was finished, smiling broadly.
"Thank you, milady," he smiled with a nod of his head. He raised his head from his guitar, pushing back the hair that insisted on falling across his face, "Where in New England?" he asked, "and how did a Northeast dainty end up in Sunny FL?"
For the briefest moment, she wanted to reach up and help him. But, his question made that urge get pushed aside rather quickly. "Family moving and college, really" Yup. Nothing exciting here.
"Ah, so you live at home, do you?" he asked, his fingers never ceasing to run up and down the frets, as if to maintain contact with his instrument at all times. "What college do you go to? What's your major?"
"I live at a home, yes," she answered, meaning that it wasn’t necessarily her own, letting her head fall to the side as she watched his fingers move along the strings. "The local University, and I major in photography."
"Do you mean like a sorority house?" he asked, "or something else?" He had never bothered to apply for a fraternity, considered them uninteresting at best, just not for him. "Photography, hmmm? Interesting......Have you had any exhibitions yet?"
"More like... I live with my boss and her husband," then, she shook her head. "No shows yet, I'm afraid. Don't have much luck in landing one yet." Yet. Please, please let that be the operative word.
He gazed at her then off into the distance, another worldy look coming into his green eyes. "You will," he said softly, "You will. When you least expect it, there will be someone who shall recognize your talent, and act accordingly." He stopped speaking, for a moment, before shaking himself from his reverie, he began to sing a lighter song, about a beautiful youth that was in love with himself......
"Hope you're right," she muttered as she shifted, moving herself so that she was laying down opposed to sitting, resting her head upon her hand. She remained silent during the song, as it seemed almost blasphemous to speak over it.
He finished singing, letting the notes die away, before saying another word. "I have a gift," he half explained, as if he'd heard her expressed doubts, "sometimes I just know things will happen, I can't explain it and I don't try to. It's why I don't worry about myself, I know I'll always have my music, and I'll always get by, with or without a recording contract. Money isn't what it's about, it's the music that counts......."
A smirk drifted onto her face as she looked up at him. "Is that how you know which girl sitting in the bar would be the easiest to sit in a park with?" Of course, she was joking. Mostly. Sort of.
He shook his head, smiling. He didn't need any prognostication skills to know that - most women were attracteed to him, he knew that, it wasn't conceit. Just as he knew that it was his music as much as anything. No, his attraction to her was based on something else. "I don't generally invite people - girls included - to my after hours sessions," he admitted, "I generally do this solo...."
"Ah," she said with as much of a nod as she could manage while her head was held up on her arm. "Well, if that's the case, then I'm rather honored that I got the chance to see it."
"Sorry if I said that badly," he laughed, "what I meant to say is that I am honoured by your presence here. My manners seem to be a bit rusty......" His cheeks pinked slightly as he plucked lightly at the strings.. "So you live with your boss, do you? And his wife? Rather unusual arrangement that, isn't it?"
Mallory simply smiled and gave him a small, friendly pat to signify his manners were just fine. "My boss and her husband," she corrected, "but yes. It's strange, but it works out."
Strange is in the eye of the beholder," he replied, "I like strange myself. Do you not use your photographic talents on your job?" he asked curiously.
She shook her head. "Nope. Not lucky enough to get to be paid to take photos. I, more or less, have some secretarial jobs but I get to learn, so it evens out."
"So, what do you like to photograph?" he asked curiously. "People, places or things? And what are you looking for in particular when you decide on the composition of your photograph?"
"All of the above," she shrugged. "I... try not to just take pictures. I try to capture something, a feeling or vibe." Music was his thing, photography was hers.
"Do you want to go commercial, open your own studio or what?" he asked, his strumming a backdrop to their conversation.
"Don't know, really. I don't want to be running my own business or constantly worrying about the stresses of showing and selling." Mallory's arm began to tire and so she shifted again, like the fidgety woman she was, and laid herself on her back so she could look up at the sky above them. "I want to be able to do it leisurely, because it's not about the money. If it becomes too much like work..."
He nodded approvingly at her words, which echoed his own sentiments. "I understand exactly, the same reasons that I don't have a cd on the market, nor any intentions of making one. Why I ran away from my last agent. She looked at me and saw dollar signs. I want someone to see me, not my fucking ability to be some sort of a cash cow...."
She nodded. "Besides, you're too good for a CD. It wouldn't do you justice." Mallory rolled her head on the ground to look at him again. Huh. This was a rather good angle... "And I'm not just saying that."
"Thank you, Miss Mallory, I appreciate it...." he replied before breaking into a soft rendition of Greensleeves, his eyes fastened upon her as he sang the middle English song.
Tucking away a mental note to notify Damien that regarding her as Miss was not at all necessary, and a little weird, she returned her attention to the sky. Greensleeves was a familiar song, so she temporarily shut her eyes and hummed along.
When Greensleeves was done, he laid the guitar aside, and on an impulse bent down and brushed his lips across hers, before straightening up, this time another original composition.
The action caught the brunette entirely off guard, and there was a moment of recovery as her face turned an embarrassingly bright shade of pink and her stomach seemingly did flip-flops. Of course, her next action would normally have been to return the gesture rather vigorously, but instead - she sat up until she was leaning on her knees, bringing her closer to the musician as he played. Oh, to even just lay her cheek on his shoulder...
He felt the nearness of her, was completely taken with her presence so very enticingly close to him, and it was as if something inside his psyche was directing his actions, cause it surely wasn't his brain. No conscious thought here, all instinct. The song fell away, finished, for he would not willingly abandon a piece of music, and he moved his face closer to hers, hungrily, his eyes gazing deeply into beautiful orbs. "Come back to my place...." he said softly....
Now, she had to ask herself: what woman in her right mind would say no to that?
Mallory looked back into the sea of green in his eyes and, without averting her gaze, she nodded slowly. Never mind how the heck she was getting home or when - that didn't matter. All that mattered right now was him.
Damien couldn't think past this moment, this night, and he wasn't sure what impulse had brought about this request - surely it wasn't a demand? - but it felt incredibly right, and he had learned a long time ago to follow his own impulses, they were almost always right. He rose from his seated position, reaching for her hands.
Frankly, it didn't much matter to her. She accepted his extended hands and hoisted herself to her feet. To her surprise, her legs weren't shaking near as bad as she could have sworn they were.
He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her closer, kissing her again, more fully now, making no pretense that he liked the way it felt, before releasing her, so that they could return to the car. "I'll take you home in the morning," he promised, although she certainly hadn't asked. It seemed the proper thing to do.
Car. Right. That was the only reason she wasn't wrapped up in his arms for the moment, and it was what she had to concentrate on after he had kissed her. Gods, she hoped he lived close by. "It shouldn't be too much trouble," Mallory managed, "I live in town, for the most part."
"No trouble at all," he assured her, "I have no schedule to keep...... and miles to go before I sleep..." He winked at her as he opened the car door for her, leaning over it to claim another kiss when she had scooted inside.
And when he did, she secured her hand around the back of his head to hold him in the kiss longer before she released him so that he could drive. Mallory felt... well, it was rather difficult to explain, but it was certainly a damned good feeling.
He slid behind the wheel, patting the seat behind him, indicating his wish for her to sit beside him, as he put the car into gear, exiting the parking lot, heading for his small apartment. He felt comfortable with her, not as if he had anything to prove, just be himself. "Do you need to let anyone know you won't be home? Wouldn't want someone pushing the panic button, you know, sending out search teams for you....."
"I think Dahlia can live without me for a night. She's got other assistants." Mallory replied with a smirk. That was the reason she turned her cell phone off after leaving the club, just in case.
"Good to know," he favoured her with a glance from the corner of his eye. "I'm not partial to being pursed by the boys in blue..." His voice was light and teasing. "Don't expect too much, but I find it works well.... No roommates to account to, or step over. I come and go as I please......sounds like you do pretty much the same....."
She grinned at the joke, but nodded. "Pretty much. The house is huge, I've got my own series of rooms in one wing and, sometimes I never even know if Dahlia and Dante are home. So it's not terribly different from living alone."
He turned into the apartment complex he called home, parking in front of his building. Before he turned to her again and kissed her once more, his fingers finding purchase in her locks as tasted the sweetness of her lips against his, releasing her before things went too far. "Be it ever so humble," he quipped as he came around to open her door, retrieve his instruments.
Mallory lingered in her seat for a moment after he broke away with a smile on her face before grabbing her bag and slipping out as he held the door for her. "Anything you need me to help carry?"
"No, I have it," he assured her, closing the door with one foot, easily hefting the cases into his grasp. After all, he did this on a regular basis, it was nothing to him. He led her toward the building, before he remembered, "Oh, you might open the door, that would be a good thing, if you don't mind.... I"m on the second floor, end of the hall, on the left...."
At the suggested, she nodded and scooted ahead of him so that she could get the door. "I wouldn't be able to do that all the time...the stairs would kill me."
"What's wrong with the stairs?" he asked curiously, setting down the guitars, and fumbling in his pocket for the key, which was quickly produced. "If they're a problem, we can use the elevator, I just never bother...."
"I know, I just would hate to have to carry that much stuff up stairs," she commented as she watched him brandish the keys. "I'm too clumsy."
"Don't worry, I have it," he turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, waving her in. "Light switch is just inside the door, feel to your left," he commented.
And she listened, running her hand along the wall for the switch, allowing herself a triumphant little noise and the lights popped on. "Ta-da!"
"Let there be light," he said with a grin, as the small apartment came into view. It wasn't much. The living room contained a sofa, which doubled as a bed when pulled out, a table with a lamp, and some rather eclectic wall posters. "Make yourself at home," he said, heading for bedroom, which contained no furniture as of yet.
She nodded as he walked off, and she set her bag on the floor beside the couch as she took in the surroundings. Obviously he hadn't been here long, by the looks of it. The posters were what she chose to meander over and look at them closer.
His posters ranged from Mike Leigh's Naked to one taken on the steps of the Montmarte to Jimmi Hendrix. He didn't care that he lacked a lot of the amenities, things like that were not important to him. "I have some bottled water in the fridge," he said, "can I get you one?"
Where as Mallory had stuff. So much stuff she didn't know what to do with. She did, however, like the idea of something non-alcoholic to drink. "Please," she said and sat herself down on the couch.
He pulled open the fridge, grabbed two bottles of water, supermarket brand, black cherry, and carried them to her, taking a place beside her on the sofa, handing her one. "I don't have a stereo," he said, "or a tv. I believe in traveling light. Besides, I'd rather read. And I can sing...."
Mallory nodded a thanks as she took the bottle. "True. I usually spend more time in my darkroom than anywhere else, so I probably don't need all the stuff I have."
"Few people do, but they collect it anyway," he replied, "there's a certain satisfaction to it, I just don't usually stay in one place long enough to accumulate much. I'd love to see your photos sometime, though...."
There was nothing about his length-of-stay statement that she liked, but she shrugged it off and leaned over the arm of the sofa to where her bag sat, and pulled it up onto her lap. "As you wish," Mallory said and pulled a small bundle of photos from a side pocket.
He turned over the photographs, black and whites, they looked like they spanned a bit of time. A lot of nature shots. He became lost in them as he got an eerie feeling about them..... as if a goose had just trod upon his grave. "Very nice," he murmured, "where were these taken?"
Mallory leaned on so that she could look at them as she hovered over his shoulder, leaning on one hand with her water in the other. "The house, mostly the backyard."
There was something about them, something he couldn't put his finger on, so he said nothing, simply gave them back. "I like those," he said, "good composition, eye for something beyond what the camera sees. You have talent...."
"I told you I like to capture something in it," she said and took the photos back, reaching to the side to replace them in her purse without having to look away from Damien. "Thank you."
"That's how I feel about the music I write myself," he said, his eyes locked upon hers, "there are so many stories to be told, and most of them involve love in one form or another. It's the world's favourite subject, don't you think?" He leaned closer to her, until his lips were mere micrometers away from hers.
"I agree," Mallory replied as her stomach began doing flips due to his very close proximity. "It appeals to everyone, it's the most perfect yet imperfect thing."
"Have you ever been in love Mallory?" he asked, brushing her lips lightly with his own, focusing on her intently as if nothing else in the world existed.
That was a tough question, when it came down to it. Before she walked into the club that night the answer would have been a simple 'no', but the man on the couch with her was stirring up emotions she'd never felt before. "Not yet," she responded in between light wisps of kisses placed upon his lips.
Not yet. The promise of so very much. He wasn't sure about himself, actually. In his dreams, sometimes he saw a woman, a beautiful woman, and they were very happy.... but she seemed to elude him in his waking life, and he wasn't sure if she were a pleasant memory or a hopeless dream of what could be. "Sometimes it's a chimera," he whispered, his kisses growing more insistent, "and sometimes she is a tease.....But she is always worth fighting for, don't you think?"
"Always," she replied and stole another kiss before breaking away long enough to place her water aside. When that was taken care of, she was upon him once again, catching his lips in a heated kiss as her fingers made their way into his hair, not allowing for much means for him to get away from her anytime soon.
He returned the kiss, his desire for her building as he did so. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers caressing her cheek, wanting her so badly, wanting to feel her naked beneath him. But first things first..... "Let's pull out the bed," he suggested in a throaty whisper, "and make our own music....."
Summary: Mallory, left to her own devices at Vice, gets chatted up by that night's performer. The two hit it off rather nicely and go elsewhere to chat while Damien successfully woos her and they retire to Damien's apartment and eventually comes a fade-out.