A place like this, full of smoke and mirrors and loud music, was all the stage of an illusionist. Délise merely played the part of one of its many subjects, living a role expected of her and desired of her. She lived it by walking through the line up, little more than a cute smile and pleased wink to the bouncer. No ID, no asking for names, just a memorable face and an attraction as grand as any for a magician's stage.
It wasn't even quite dark out, and Délise was already down two drinks. No need to pace herself, certainly not when the first arrivals were always a little too eager and a little too sober to be playing their games on Délise.
This one was a lawyer, he said, but Délise recognized him as a first year law student who'd fail out wasting his time partying. Another wanted to impress her with a certain size of his, but Délise never heard of a horse performing as good of tricks as a dog.
But her most unpleasant foe was the man who stopped her right before she could hit the dance floor. He looked nice, she supposed. That suit could fit better, and the cologne overwhelmingly dispersing from his body was so... trite.
Délise brushed her hand through her hair, frowning at the man, "Excuse me." She knew it wouldn't work. This guy wasn't just a 'pick up artist'. It was a pick up artist who didn't like it when a woman said no.
"Lose some weight and that dress would make you gorgeous," the young man recited from his book of tricks.
Negging. Lovely. Délise was about to ignore him and walk around him when he grabbed her forearm. Délise had wholly underestimated just how fast he'd lose his temper.
"You think you're too fucking good for me, you slut?" He seethed.
"You're not even good enough for your mom. Let go," Délise yanked back, just about ready to unleash every black spell she had on his ass. She wasn't afraid of him, not even close. But he also wasn't worth starting a fight in here and leaving her with an early exit.
It wasn't even quite dark out, and Délise was already down two drinks. No need to pace herself, certainly not when the first arrivals were always a little too eager and a little too sober to be playing their games on Délise.
This one was a lawyer, he said, but Délise recognized him as a first year law student who'd fail out wasting his time partying. Another wanted to impress her with a certain size of his, but Délise never heard of a horse performing as good of tricks as a dog.
But her most unpleasant foe was the man who stopped her right before she could hit the dance floor. He looked nice, she supposed. That suit could fit better, and the cologne overwhelmingly dispersing from his body was so... trite.
Délise brushed her hand through her hair, frowning at the man, "Excuse me." She knew it wouldn't work. This guy wasn't just a 'pick up artist'. It was a pick up artist who didn't like it when a woman said no.
"Lose some weight and that dress would make you gorgeous," the young man recited from his book of tricks.
Negging. Lovely. Délise was about to ignore him and walk around him when he grabbed her forearm. Délise had wholly underestimated just how fast he'd lose his temper.
"You think you're too fucking good for me, you slut?" He seethed.
"You're not even good enough for your mom. Let go," Délise yanked back, just about ready to unleash every black spell she had on his ass. She wasn't afraid of him, not even close. But he also wasn't worth starting a fight in here and leaving her with an early exit.