Force Walker (darth_imperius) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-03-30 01:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, aria t'loak, lomea kallig |
Who: Imperius and Aria
What: Two alpha bit-ladies interact Lomea pays a discreet visit to Aria's club
When: recent
Where: Afterlife
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13
As per their conversation, Aria ensured that her security was beefed up for the time that Lomea would be arriving. She even sent a few to sweep the area around the club to ensure reporters and paparazzi weren’t anywhere near it. She also had a VIP room set up for Lomea. Aria was by the bar, human disguise in place. Her attire, as usual, made her look like she belonged in a heavy metal band, as did her blue hair. Her shirt even had strategic rips in it.
The only thing Aria didn’t prepare ahead of time was what type of alcohol, if any, Lomea would want. And to say that Aria was excited about this encounter was an understatement. She did enjoy meeting like-minded people. So really, this encounter had quite a bit of potential, and she had no idea which way things would go.
It was an effort that Lomea would appreciate, though when she arrived in a nondescript car, she felt a momentary hesitation, before she shrugged it off and stepped inside. It reminded her of a place on Nar Shadaa she’d visited during a break in her mission there, though with considerably less variety in dancers. No blue twi’leks or green rodians here. Just a lot of beautiful humans. Lomea didn’t really mind.
There was still a chance her visit could get out, but she’d deal with that if it came to that; she’d vetted the place already.
Her eyes lingered on a woman on stage with an amazing set of hips, before she strode towards the bar like some sort of dark queen, a slight chill in her wake.
Aria didn’t need an extrasensory ability or the Force or anything to be able to tell when Lomea entered Afterlife. Her long life had given her plenty of time to be able to pick up on a person’s body language and gauge how they may act based on it. And there was no mistaking that the way Lomea walked paired quite nicely with the conversation the two of them had had on the Valarnet. She couldn’t help a little smirk, a glint passing through her blue eyes.
“You must be the guest of honor, Lomea,” she spoke as Lomea approached the bar. And she was a highly attractive woman in more ways than one.
Though somewhat apart from Lomea, Aria lamented that there were no Asari dancers here. If only aliens wouldn’t be gawked at, feared and taken captive by the government for experimentation, Aria wouldn’t walk around with a human disguise.
If some of the crowd seemed to part before Lomea like the sea, she made no notice of it. Her green eyes gave Aria a keen look and a once over, and she liked what she saw. A little more punkish than her usual leanings, but then Lomea had always been a bit of a rebel herself.
“You are correct.” She spoke with a strange sort of emphasis on words, and not always the words one would expect. And since she was not putting on her political face (which by necessity needed to be more approachable), she could be more her bitch queen self. “I love your establishment. The decor is quite alluring.”
Aria’s style in her dreams probably fell more along the lines of cyberpunk, but she hadn’t quite grown out of her punk stage and manner of dress here. She could dress up and be business formal, or even straight formal, if the occasion required it, but she was far more comfortable in clothing like she currently wore. She found it easier to command respect when she presented herself this way, than if she wore a suit all day long. But of course, commanding respect was all about personality and less about what you wore.
“Why thank you, I took great care in having it just the way I wanted it.” Aria enjoyed showing off her establishment, and it was always a note of pride when someone complimented it. “Would you like a drink? I can have a bottle of whatever you like brought to the VIP room I have for you. If you would like more privacy, of course.” It was Lomea’s choice. She was the customer, and what she wanted, within reason of course, she would get.
It looked good on Aria and sometimes that was all that mattered. It wasn’t like Lomea was going to be seen in public with her or anything like that. Though, with the way the woman carried herself, she’d make a powerful ally at fundraisers and other nonsense.
“I would like a drink,” Lomea said, leaning her hip on the bar and resuming her study of Aria in particular. “And the VIP room sounds delightful. What else would you suggest?”
Aria carried her look well, but she could carry just about anything well. There was a confidence about her, and even when she had a relaxed posture, she still had a commanding presence. And she certainly did make for a powerful ally. And if someone was her enemy, well, they tended to not survive such an experience for very long. Unless she wanted to keep them alive for whatever reason, of course.
“I have top shelf hard liquor. Scotch, brandy, whiskey, and so on. Would you prefer something smooth or something with a bite?” Aria asked. Her words could be taken in more than one way, and she most certainly intended it that way.
“Brandy,” Lomea said. She often adjusted what she drank for her audience, and brandy seemed like it would suit this establishment just snootily enough.
She waved her hand, “Though I am usually the one doing the biting.” Her eyes were focused on Aria. “And there are quite a few things worth biting on, here.”
Aria glanced to the bartender and nodded towards one of the brandy bottles. A moment later, the bottle and glasses were provided to them, the bartender pouring each of them a glass.
“Is that so? Well I’m certain there’s some interest in being bitten here. Though most things in here are inclined to leave their mark in return.” This was going to be quite the encounter. Aria already could tell that this was the beginning of something rather unique. And unique in the good way.
Sniffing her glass, Lomea decided it met her approval and so she took a sip. She turned around, leaning against the bar and watching some of the women who were moving around or on stage. Lomea had specific leanings when it came to this sort of thing. The woman beside her was one of them (in ways Lomea did not yet realize), but there were a number of women here who suited her tastes.
She spied at least two she liked enough for a closer inspection, and perhaps seduce, though her eyes slid over to Aria and roamed up her body. Did it count as a private show if she invited Aria as well? “How long have you been in business?”
Aria had no qualms in having any number of women go to Lomea’s VIP room for a private show. She enjoyed making her customers happy, and she preferred them being repeat customers. The only thing she lamented was the fact that her best dancer, Miranda, no longer worked for her. Of course, she’d seen it coming so it hadn’t been a surprise and she hadn’t fought it. But even so, she’d need to find a new star for her club.
She noted the way Lomea looked her over, sipping her own drink as she maintained her eye contact with the other woman. “This specific establishment? Just over two years. I also own a club in Los Angeles that I’ve had for several years, though that one is simply a dance club, not a strip club.” Aria could elaborate, going into the strip club she’d taken over and went from dancer to owner overnight, but she kept her answer constrained to the question asked.
“I like the decor,” Lomea said, returning her gaze to the dancers. “You can tell how much work you put into this establishment, and that your employees are well treated and enjoytheir jobs.”
Lomea would not come to just any club, let alone a strip club, if she thought the women were mistreated or underpaid. She could make the right comments if the media pitched a fit in that case. Otherwise she’d have no defense and be called a hypocrite; something she loathed more than most things she was called.
“Thank you. I pride myself in taking care of the women who work for me, and I ensure that they are happy. A club like this only works if your workers are happy and properly compensated. Treating them like pieces of meat is the perfect recipe for tanking your business. And they are people just like anyone else. They deserve to make a living for themselves without being degraded for it.” Aria knew what that was like. Her first employer when she became a stripper hadn’t taken care of her or the other girls he employed. She’d been nothing but a piece of meat to him and every other man that set foot in that despicable place.
Aria made certain to take care of those who worked for her. As long as they didn’t stab her in the back or anything, she would ensure they were treated well. And she didn’t stand for any patrons disrespecting them either.
“I would be a hypocrite if I went anywhere that did not do as you say,” Lomea agreed. She nodded her head, then pushed off from the bar. “Take me to your VIP room. And bring her.” She pointed at a lithe, flexible looking woman. “We can talk more while enjoying a show.”
Aria approved of that. Exotic dancing wasn’t to be looked down on. Sure, some women started out dancing because they were desperate for money and didn’t have another means of getting money. But there were plenty who enjoyed the job and were exceedingly skilled at it. After all, pole dancing was a very fine art.
“Very good choice,” Aria commented, pushing away from the bar, taking the bottle and her drink with her. She caught the eye of the woman Lomea pointed out and guestered for her to follow them. “This way,” she said to Lomea and lead her and the dancer to the VIP room, which was of course rather comfortable and more than inviting. The sounds of the pulsing music from the club were greatly dulled in the room thanks to some soundproofing Aria’d had installed. It wasn’t completely soundproof just in case there was an emergency either in the room or in the club proper everyone could be alerted to it quickly and easily. But they could certainly talk without having to yell over the music.
And other activities could be engaged in without anyone outside being any the wiser.
Lomea was decently impressed by the quality of the VIP room. It was comfortable, and fashionable. High class, indeed. She set her glass on a table and reclined on the couch like some ancient queen of old. Slowly, she relaxed. Here, away from the public eye, she could be more herself than either the Sith Lord, or the politician. Lomea didn’t drop her speech inflections, but she did smile openly, though remained guarded otherwise.
“Do you frequently enjoy such opportunities, Aria?”
Upon arriving in the VIP room, Aria set the bottle down on the table, sipping at her own drink before she took her own seat, giving a little nod to the dancer, who promptly began her own entertainment. There was a pole in the room, of course, and the girl made good use of it. Aria eyed her for some moments before she returned her full attention to Lomea.
“In this way? Not as often as you might think. I can be very picky in such indulgences.” Of course, that was referring more to her being picky about the people she indulged with as opposed to how she indulged.
Oh, that girl was exactly what Lomea wanted to watch. Graceful and agile, with legs that seemed to extend for miles. She kept one eye on her, and the other on her host. “I suppose one would not want to pick favorites, among many other things.”
Lomea slid two fingers along Aria’s arm, meaning both dancers, and clients. “Build loyalty.”
A little shiver ran through Aria as she felt the touch on her arm. Now, the texture of her skin was not normal. Her skin was still soft, but it had a slightly different texture than human skin. If Lomea hadn’t known, or at least suspected, that Aria wasn’t human, this was a dead give away.
“Precisely. Loyalty is nearly everything. Respect makes up the other part.”
It was an interesting sensation, and that prick in the back of her mind from the Force only strengthened her observations -- and her questions. Lomea continued to caress at Aria’s arm, the motion curious and yet somewhat possessive.
“Respect, I’ve learned, can be earned a few ways. But stepping on one’s neck can only go so far before it backfires on you.”
Aria turned her forearm over, letting Lomea explore the feel of her skin. Of course, with the dancer in the room, Aria wasn’t going to reveal her true appearance in any way. The woman didn’t Dream, and she didn’t need to go revealing her alien nature to anyone.
“I only step on someone’s neck to make an example. But there are better ways to earn it.” As Lomea continued to caress her arm, Aria, brushed her finger tips against Lomea’s arm.
Not the kind of person to slip into someone’s lap, Lomea had to fight the urge to pull Aria into hers. Aria didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d easily rest in someone’s lap, though that made the idea rather thrilling. The woman on the pole, at least, was lap material.
Trailing a circle around Aria’s wrist, Lomea said. “Make someone love you, and they will go as far as you need.”
No, Aria was not the type to easily rest in someone’s lap. The only way she’d be in someone’s lap was during sex. Otherwise, she was an Alpha Female, and she was getting the feel that Lomea was one as well. A very intriguing encounter, indeed.
“Love can be too fickle for my tastes. Regardless of how strong the feeling can be, it is not a guarantee people will always do anything for you.” Aria did not necessarily care for love. Oh, she knew it had its merits, especially in gaining allies, but she was better at subtly manipulating people. And she also knew that fear could only reach so far. And there was no better example of what she’d just said than her experience with Nyreen in her Dreams.
“That is why a little fear can go a long way and too much fear breeds rebellion,” Lomea agreed. But she shook her head and elaborated. “But I have turned enemies into allies. A simple act of mercy in contrast to the violence another might have demonstrated, and then they spread the word and others flock to you. Is it not better to inspire one to greatness, than crack a whip? They’d be much more likely to push themselves farther, and less likely to stab you in the back.”
Getting stabbed in the back was a constant fear and worry in her dreams, and that was also literal.
“That entirely depends on the type of people you are dealing with.” Aria returned. “There are those who prefer you crack them with the whip. There are those who need you to crack the whip. Then there are those who need a finer touch.” The place Aria ruled over in her Dreams required the whip being cracked far more often than not. After all, she had to keep the mercenaries and gangs in line as much as possible.
“Perhaps.” Lomea conceded that point, even if she didn’t entirely agree. When an entire Empire was built on fear and hatred, it was so easy to turn mercy into strength. But she couldn’t appear to be weak either. So Aria had a point there.
Lomea’s hand reached Aria’s shoulder, and then she started to stroke her ear.
It was a point of difference between them, which was fine. Everyone had their own way of doing things. As long as it didn’t fuck with Aria in any way, she didn’t give a damn how other people lived their lives. She tended to take the hardline more often than not to keep order. Those around her only respected strength, and even then they sometimes found that to be a weakness.
Feeling Lomea’s hand move for her ear, Aria had to smirk a bit. After all, she didn’t actually have ears like humans did. Where her ear should be was a lack of one. There wasn’t exactly a hole, but it was clear it was an ear, or what passed as an ear for an Asari. She let Lomea explore it, curious to see how long it would be before Lomea brought up the question of whether or not she was human. And would it be brought up in front of the lovely entertainment they had?
So many curiosities. Aria was intrigued how Lomea would play it.
Now that was unexpected. Lomea peered at Aria curiously as her finger circled around something that felt entirely unlike a normal ear. And yet to her eyes, it was normal.
She reached out with the Force, searching for illusion or sorcery, hoping to find an explanation and to see what Aria meant to hide.
At the same time she tossed a wad of about six hundred dollars at the dancing woman (and also her number). “You are quite marvelous and I welcome your call. But for now, I have some private questions for your employer.”
There was a spell that was concealing her true appearance. However, it wasn’t coming from Aria herself, it was centered on something on her wrist. Hiding her true appearance wasn’t Aria’s first choice, but she preferred not getting lynched on the streets and taken by the military to have experiments run on her. So she had to keep herself masked in this way.
The dancer took the money and the number, giving a smile and a wink to Lomea. “Thank you very much. It’s been a pleasure,” she said before she left the other two women alone and went on her merry way.
“That woman’s ass is firm enough to sink battleships,” Lomea murmured. Once they were alone, she turned back to Aria, eyes sharply curious. “There is more to you than meets the eye. I wonder if I could dispel this glamor.”
She waved her hand, and the bottle of brandy floated over to her.
“Indeed it is,” Aria commented. She was, of course, keenly aware of all of her dancer’s assets and strengths, as well as their weaknesses. Her employees all complimented each other and each had a strength that made up for another’s weakness. It definitely helped keep up interest in the customers that came in, so many different dancers to watch, each with something different to give.
She turned her gaze back to Lomea, a gleam in her eyes. “That entirely depends upon how you define dispel.” Aria lifted a leg and rested her ankle over the knee of her other leg and she leaned her elbow on the back of her chair. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to reveal herself, she hated wearing this disguise, but she was amused by Lomea’s interest and was curious to see how she’d go about this.
Letting the bottle refill her glass, Lomea studied Aria a little bit. It wasn’t any sort of sorcery she was familiar with in her dreams, but now that she was looking for something she could sense something amiss in the Force. Not Dark, nor Light, but something wrong with the natural state of things. Out of sorts, as it were.
“Through the Force, a great many things are possible,” Lomea said, tilting her head. “Including the reordering of how another might perceive the world. Whatever this is, acts similar, though not the same.”
“It is magic, but it is not my own. I have no such abilities that could do this.” An old friend had been kind enough to give her this glamor. Aria picked up her drink and took a sip of it. Her abilities were different, meant for either combat or sex. And again, she wasn’t going to give up more information than that. Part of her wanted to see if Lomea could guess at why she had a glamor on before she had to spell it out.
“You are not human,” Lomea declared, gaze sharpening. “Your ears are especially wrong, and remind me of those which belong to a people called the Twi’lek, in the galaxy that I dream of. Is your hair an illusion, too?”
She wondered if Aria had Lekku or not. Twi’leks were not her first choice, but they were decent enough.
“Yes, my hair is an illusion. My species has no body hair, actually. I suppose one could say we used to have scales at some point in our history of evolution.” That was the thing about Asari, it wasn’t quite so obvious what they evolved from. Hanar clearly came from the ocean. Salarians may have been some type of amphibian at one point. Humans were primates. But Asari? They were certainly a species unto themselves.
“I am an Asari, a monogendered species. For all intents and purposes, I am female, but the word holds no meaning to me, much like male has no meaning. And let us just say, I am far older than I appear to be.” Aria pulled the omni-tool off of her wrist, her human facade disappearing and revealing her true appearance. Aside from her body type and height, the only other thing that remained the same as her facade was the blue of her eyes.
“Interesting,” Lomea murmured, far more intrigued than she had any right being. Her eyes lit up as Aria revealed her true self. “You would not be the first blue alien I have seen. There are a number in my dreams, including a particularly nubile Chiss woman. Though the Chiss have red eyes, and hair. The lack of hair, is more like the Twi’leks. Though you clearly differ from both and both have multiple genders.”
Regardless, Aria was beautiful; and Lomea knew that the Empire would still find her below human or the Sith species. The racist hierarchy of alien, human, human with Sith ancestry, and Pure Sith.
“My species is generally considered the most attractive of all the sentient, space-faring species in the galaxy. Though it is difficult to pinpoint why that is. Humans would say we look the most like them when compared to the other species. Turians would say our head fringe makes us appealing. Krogans would probably say it’s because we can have children. I never put stock in such things. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes. I also don’t hate entire species, I hate individuals or organizations within species.” Aria, for instance, hated Cerberus, the xenophobic, pro-human terrorist organization. But she didn’t hate humans because of it.
Racism and xenophobia seemed to be rampant in all realities, be it this world or the many Dream worlds that were represented here.
“You are certainly one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met,” Lomea agreed, leaning forward and tracing Aria’s outstanding jawline with two fingers. “The concept of hating an entire species is foreign to me, though the Empire I dream of is as xenophobic as any modern nation. They are fools.”
Aria gazed into Lomea’s eyes, leaning into the touch to her jawline. She gave a little smirk. “You are extremely attractive yourself.” And Lomea was attractive in more than just one way as well. “Anyone who embraces xenophobia are fools. It is good to see you do not entertain such beliefs.” She reached out, tracing the tip of a finger along Lomea’s rather sharp cheekbone.
“I really am,” Lomea agreed, smiling as she turned her face into Aria’s touch. None could ever accuse her of being modest, and she’d upset more than one person by being unapologetic about her looks and her intelligence. She was pretty sure that was in one part a reason why the faux Sith Anakin seemed to lose his mind when talking to her. A bear she enjoyed poking.
“Infighting and rejection of potential allies will be their downfall.”
“I rather like how you own your looks. So many do not, and it is a shame.” Aria definitely respected a woman who knew she was attractive and wasn’t afraid to say so. While she herself was prone to doing that, she didn’t do it all that frequently. Sometimes, she liked being more subtle. Other times, she enjoyed being blunt.
“I agree. Infighting is always the beginning of the end for anyone, be it an empire an organization or something even smaller than that.” Aria’s gaze dipped to Lomea’s lips for some moments, her finger tip tracing down her face and along her jawline.
“Some might call it arrogance. I call it the truth.“ Lomea knew how much power could be wielded by a pretty face, especially in societies so hell bent on the worship of celebrity. It was another tool in her arsenal.
Her mouth parted slightly, and she allowed herself the rare pleasure of basking in the attention of a beautiful woman, though her guard, as always, remained at least a little up.
“So many confuse truth for arrogance. There is a difference between the two that so many fail to comprehend.” Aria more than understood the fine lines between various words and so forth. She could wordplay with the best of them at times.
That was another way in which she and Lomea were alike. Aria also always kept her guard up. There was only one time when it would fully come down, and that was when she joined her mind to another’s. And there was nothing she could do about that. But a side effect of that was the other person also had no guard either.
Finally taking the initiative, Aria’s hand trailed around to the back of Lomea’s head and kissed her. There was a fire behind the kiss, as well as strength.
Pleased that she’d lured Aria into kissing her, Lomea slid her hands down the sides of Aria’s head, down her neck and to her shoulders. There was fire and strength behind her kiss as well, and a hunger that began to permeate the air as that whole ‘passion’ part of the Sith Code came roaring to the forefront of Lomea’s mind.
Aria was a very passionate woman, she simply kept it hidden and controlled most of the time. After all, she needed to be calm and cool so as to not be seen as potentially weak. It came with great ease, her dream self having had centuries of practice in that. She liked the way Lomea matched the fire and strength of her kiss. Her own hands wandered over Lomea’s shoulders and down her back, pulling her closer against her as she continued to kiss her.
It was like they were practically twins! Lomea had the same need, for much the same reasons. But here, at least, alone with no eyes to spy or ears to listen, she could be fire and passion and raw need. Letting herself be pulled in, she pushed at Aria, pressing her into the back of the couch and only half-straddling her. Both a concession, and a challenge.
She read that concession and challenge for what it was. Aria spoke that language rather well, and in her dreams she’d been with more than enough lovers to recognize such things. She grazed her nails up Lomea’s back, letting Lomea push her back into the couch. She was anticipating a fight for dominance, and the thought added to her arousal. Sometimes she did enjoy a good fight in this regard. Aria broke the kiss only enough to catch Lomea’s bottom lip between her teeth and giving it a little bite and a tug.
Lomea groaned, nails digging into Aria’s shoulders, her body reacting to the bite and the promise of violent love-making. No, she would not concede her dominance entirely, it would be a tug of war, pushing and pulling until they were both spent.
Aria would be disappointed if Lomea completely conceded her dominance. So she was more than happy to wage the war of violent love-making. She wasn’t afraid to leave marks or have marks left on her. So it would certainly be war of pushing and pulling, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.