Rick thought that the cologne, if thats what you called it, smelled weird. The clothes were amazingly comfortable though, and even though they both smacked his bottom and whistled at him when he left, he was gratful for the help. ( they giggled way to much for grown men, in Ricks opinion ). But he was one good looking guy, no doubt about it, dressed really slick, out on the town in Paris, out to have a good time. The H&K 9mm was tucked into the small of his back but the rifle had to be hidden inbetween the mattresses in the hotel room. This bits and pieces of equipment left all over the place was creating quite the headache. Somewhere out there Barett was waiting for a text message about the package. Rick knew that he should get that text to Barett off tonight, he was probably wondering if Rick boobytraped the crate. He still had gear in the truck of Carla's car, a women he had just meet, weapons in a hotel room and bodies piled up in a park, lots of other things to worry about before Barett. At least Paris was exciting, better then Sete.
The Line to the club was long, but Rick managed to make friends with a group that had been drinking alot before they arrived, and before long had made his way into the front lobby with them. Splitting off from the group once they got him inside he looked around. The place was huge, 15 ft ceilings on the main floor opened into a large bar with tables and waiters, to the back was another room with dancers in cages and some stage act going on in the back corner, on the left was a large staircase that was packed with mostly younger people, this was where the dance music was ebbing out of. To the right were a set of elevators, and two large partial looks Horses guarding them, must be the VIP route, thought Rick. He was just starting to get his bearings when he hears his name called.
" Senior Rick, Senior Rick is that you ?" Says a sultry Italian voice.
Turning around Rick sees Carla, dressed in thigh high black leather boots and a matching leather micro skirt, a sheer black shirt, with a half jacket in black leather, tightly hugging her fantastic body. Her dark hair is slicked back and she holds her cigarette in a long filter from her left hand. A small sparkling clutch and black lipstick complete the image. She is absolutly hot, and every time she moves from side to side as she walks, you get a glimpse of her perky breasts through the sheer shirt. She walks right up to Rick and plants a quick kiss on the lips before you can say anything.
" You cleaned up very well, a little on the gay side, but very well indeed, I may decide to keep you around a little longer. Come with me and dance upstairs, as we look for this " MISSING GIRLFRIEND" of yours. If that is what she is. " Says Carla in a mocking, jovial tone.
Rick can tell she is really putting on the charm to you, he thinks that if he said' lets leave right now and go back to your place' she would jump at it, or him. The thought goes through his mind, then another one involving a french phrase. Snapping back to the task at hand, he follows her as she takes his hand and leads him up the stairs to the second floor.
What does Rick do next ?
Meanwhile......................
Maria follows the man up to the third floor and in to a small room, there is a small bar in the corner and several other girls milling around. High end chairs and couches line the walls, and small tables and lamps tastfully fill out the room. There are several dark wood panelled doors that line the sides of each wall and men and women move in and out of several on the left side to other larger rooms. The nice gentleman shows her to a large leather couch in the corner and sits down next to her.
" what do you want to drink.......wine.....champage ? " he cordially asks.
" Some white wine would be nice, what rooms are these? " Maria casually replies.
" Ah, yes.......these are the VIP rooms, they cover the whole of the top floor, I take it you have not been here before....your accent gives you away on that matter to, where do you come from, I can not pinpoint the dialect ?"
" From Bolivia, I was raised there....." replies Maria as she scans the room. It is mostly full of young women in the same kind of clubwear that she has on.
" Yes, very exotic, the gentlemen will like that, who do you work for ?"
Maria seems a little taken back, she had no intentions of telling them she was a secret operative, how could they know. The shock soon worn off when she caught what was really going on. The girls in this room were High-end Call girls, waiting for the rich single men to pick them out for the evening. The man sitting across from her now must work for the club, escorting the new girls to the room and checking out their references. Maria didn't know weather to be mad or flattered about what was happening. It made sense, but it wasn't part of her plan....what was she going to do ?
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Black must have been the “in” color of the season. Everyone was wearing it. Even the club’s walls were covered in long black thick silk drapery. But black or not, the place stunk of wealth; there was no doubt about it.
Being steered by the vivacious Carla up a flight of stairs, Rick instantly discovered the place had one serious sound system as the acoustic wave hit him. It was so loud that it dominated over his sense of touch which was the second thing that hit. It was hot. It felt like the air conditioner was broken. But that wasn’t slowing this crowd down. The dance hall was more than a generous dance floor; it was an enormous pulsing psychedelic mixture of bobbing bodies, bumming music, flashing LED panels, and color-coordinated lights. A three women vocalist group who appeared to be black leopards, held absolute control over the massing group of dancing bodies as they sang flawlessly into old fashion mikes on a stage in the middle of the room. They were backed up by a band of five partial-looks gallic roosters with bright feathers for hair, providing the very quick drum beat, two lead guitars, a base guitar, and a funky piano. The music was such that it locked and energized the crowed into collective bouncing wave of humanity jumping with each snap of the drums.
The room was sweltering to a point it was quickly becoming very uncomfortable in his suit. Looking around as the chest-vibrating loud music continued, he saw that clothes on the women were skimpy and the whole of the crowd was glossed and lacquered. A giant golden chandelier dominated the center of the room and shook with each thud of the dance. It sent out a golden glow upon the three black women singers and the dancers around the center stage. Everyone was jumping like mad, acting as if they were lost in some hypnotic primitive and frenzied pagan blood sacrifice.
“Oh! Senior Rick, YOU WILL LOVE THIS! WE ARE JUST IN TIME!” Carla shouted at the top of her lungs in Rick’s ear in order for him to hear her. “THIS IS ONE OF THE COOLEST THIS YOU WILL EVER SEE!”
Cool was not the right word to be used but it didn’t really matter. Rick could barely hear what she saying. “WHAT?”
“THE CROWD DANCES AROUND LIKE MAD!” She yelled back at him in her perfect Spanish and then said something else but it was lost in the dim and she gave up trying to tell him. Carla’s face just lit up in a zealous smile and she grabbed his hands and pulled him into the massing throng, dancing and jumping around madly to the beat. She kept pointing at the ceiling for him to look.
Rick joined in the wild dance and looked up to see if he could figure out what she was trying to point out. He could make out what looked to be VIP skyboxes made of LED glass that had occupants inside looked down on them. But the room was too hot for him concentrate. With a full suit on, he started to sweat heavy. He tried to stop dancing but Carla wouldn’t let him. People were pressing in hard on all sides as the mass of dancers continued their relentless fervor. He didn’t get this. Incredibly sexually, yes. Fun . . . yeah, but how could they keep this up dressed as all the men were anyway in very nice suits? Carla sure seemed to be enjoying herself even though she was also starting to really glisten. No one showed any sign of slowing down. In fact, the beat of the music quickened, (if that was even possible).
Then to the spontaneous roaring delight of the crowd, blue siren lights blared to life and the music stopped. A fog from the ceiling formed and dropped on the cheering crowd like a sheet being thrown over a bed. The fog was freezing and the temperature dropped a good 30 degrees in seconds.
Pins and needles galore! Short and sexy little Carla had launched herself, arms, legs and all into Rick’s un-expecting embrace, squeezing the living stuffing out of him. Then she grabbed his head and planted a very solid kiss on him. It looked as if she wasn’t the only one doing it too. Couples throughout were doing basically the same thing.
Then, on mass the kissing stopped and the crowded erupted into another deafening cheer. Carla, still cling to Rick with her legs wrapped around his midsection, let go with her arms and punched the now chilled air. She joined the rest of the room in the screaming celebration. It was like nothing Rick had ever seen.
The music started up again, this time much, much slower, and people began to mill about more than dance and talked excitedly about what had just happened. Many headed downstairs to the bars for a much need drink.
“What the hell was that?”
“They have liquid nitrogen nozzles in the ceiling that fills the room with that freezing fog. It’s the dancer’s job to get the room hot enough for them to release the freeze. Wasn’t that just amazing!? We couldn’t have timed it better!” Carla kept on talking as she attempted to guide Rick to the left wall but something else grabbed his attention.
“Hey handsome,” someone placed a hand on Rick’s shoulders and had just whispered in Spanish into his ear. “You want to come up with me?”
The voice was low and melodious and is sounded as if the owner was rather amused and quite sure of herself. Rick stopped. There was the slightest prick at his shoulder but then after thinking about it, he assumed it was just a static shock under the pressure of this hand. His senses suddenly screamed danger but then it was too late. Carla stopped too and looked back.
With the hand still lightly on his shoulder, the owner swung around to reveal herself. Rick couldn’t move. But his knees felt as if they had just turned to jell-o and his innards had just upped and left as he looked at the woman standing before him. She was astonishingly young and slender and above everything else he had ever seen, good-looking! She had sheets of blue-black hair that hung around her olive-brown heart-shaped face and enormous dark eyes. This woman, in contrast to Maria, who had the curves which Rick considered the perfection of a voluptuous figure, had none. She was as skinny as a stick but nonetheless she was one insanely salacious and incredibly stunning woman. Her age, her animal roots, her human origins were all impossible to pinpoint. But one thing was for sure, she was so attractive that it hurt to look at her.
The woman’s finger trailed down Rick’s lapel. She was wearing a simple metallic gold color dress, if gold could be considered simple, with elegant white high-heel shoes.
“Who do we have here Carla?” the melodious voice sang out in Spanish.
“He’s a friend of mine, Madam de Angorian,” Carla replied back slowly. Rick could hear the stress in her voice.
“Of course, if he is your friend then . . .” she didn’t end her sentence. But she did step up very close to Rick; very, very close.
What was wrong with him? He still couldn’t move. Had this lady had done something to him that had instantly paralyzed him?
With her shoes she was almost as tall as Maria. Strange feelings began to trigger all throughout his body. It was almost as if painful sparks of lightening were shooting out from her body into his. She lifted her hand to Rick’s head and played with a lose strand of hair that had come out during the dancing. As she was doing this Rick was franticly trying to move his hand to find the gun at his back. He felt as if he was moving it but he couldn’t get his fingers in the right spot to find the handle. Everything about this sybarite screamed danger yet he was powerless to do anything about it.
“This one could cause a lot of gossip in town, Carla. I would lock him up and hide him if I were you.” The lady replied now in English to Carla but continued to stare at Rick. She lowered her hand ever so gently to wipe away a sweat bead that was forming of the side of Rick’s head.
Then she turned her head and smiled at Carla. She said something but this time it was in a language Rick didn’t understand. And then, in a blink of an eye she was gone, lost in the crowd of people.
Rick was shocked. How had he been caught so easily? But the effect of the paralysis was coming off fast. His hand finally moved and found the gun handle but he left it there. Was there such a poison that could instantly render a victim motionless? That was a scary thought. He would have to look into that later.
“Come on lover boy.” Carla said bringing him back to the problem at hand. She defensively grabbed his hand again. “It’s a good thing I like you. Inferno, I hate that woman. We better find your friend and get out of here.”
She guided him off into the crowd to look for Maria. Rick was trying to spot the woman in the golden dress about but couldn’t find her. He was still in a bit of a haze from whatever that woman had done to him.
Paris, he was coming to find, was full of surprises.
Carla dragged him away from the dance floor and over to the bar at the back wall. Making her way to the end she caught the attention of one of the girls behind the large metal cage that served as both decoration and a seperation from the crowd.
" Hey, Petra, two 'Nipple twisters' and lots of lemon."
Screamed Carla over the rising music, signalling with her hands. The girl, a tall muscular cat with the remnants of orange stripes, nodded back. The bar was all stainless steel on the front and top, with a large drop down shield coming from the ceiling, also of stainless steel, to just four feet from the bar top. Polished steel bars ran down from the shield attached to the ceiling and to the bar top with heavy bolts, very industrial looking. Rows of exotic looking bottles lined the back wall inbetween the mirrors running the length of the bar. Carla having worked into a space at the bar end, pulled Rick in close to her. The heat from her body, and the softness of her skin eased the tension and chills he had from the nitrogen and Madam de Angorian. The sweet smell of her perfume was intoxication, coupled with her hand on his inner thigh, he could not mistake her flirting.
The tall cat girl walked down the bar to you, holding two small shot glasses filled with a translucent bluish green liquid, large chunks of lemon hung on the glass rim.
" You sure can pick them Carla, I like this one much better than the last already." She jovial replies, nodding at you.
" Better keep him away from 'Angorian' the black widow, she looks just his type."
Spinning the glasses in some sort of dredel like move till they stop spinning right up in front of you. She leans across the top right up to the bars. Staring right into your eyes, the yellow slits of the pupils boring into you. Oddly enough Rick can tell one of the eyes is damaged, unable to move on its own. The remmants of tiger sripes are more pronounced at this angle and closeness and rick can tell she is a tiger mix.
" Don't go hurting this one boy, I like her, get me. " she hisses out just loud enough that you can hear her but no one else could.
Then spinning on her heel she moves down the bar filling drinks.
Carla is downing the last of her drink now, then pressing the lemon to her lips and sucking on it.
" Your turn Rick, this is stuff you won't find where you are from, give it a shot, You will really like it!"
She smiles sweetly then waits for you.
The muffled dance music from downstairs echoed in pulsing thumps through the floor into the room. She wanted to be down there enjoying herself, not this hidden room on the top.
The room was warm and clean with opaque smoked-color glass table lamps giving out most of the illumination. Other lights were on too, but these were a dimmed down version of the hot neon pinks, blues, and purples from the main dance room. She guessed it was designed that way to give a more secluded, seductive, and private feel that you couldn’t get on a dance floor. This room was dark but had the undeniable extra element of overindulgence in opulent waste and lavish wealth. When Maria had first arrived at the club, she had thought she had just seen the biggest collection of beautiful women possible. But she was mistaken. The girls in this upper room were unreal. They were almost too perfect to be real. But that, Maria realized, was the truth. They weren’t real. All these girls were fakes, from their flashing smiles and ‘cuties’ personalities to their oversized breasts, perfect hair, and made up faces. They were all perfect drop-dead-gorgeous girls; Call girls of the Parisian night life and all fakes.
"From Bolivia, I was raised there . . . “Maria replied to the man who had brought her up to the room.
"Yes, very exotic, the gentlemen will like that, who do you work for?"
But she didn’t get a chance to answer the question with her own question. The elevator doors opened, and out stepped a small group of extremely wealthy looking men escorted by a lovely full-looks skunk in tight white and black dress that matched her hair and tail. The man talking with Maria politely but quickly excused himself and hurried over to the new patrons.
With the man gone, Maria turned to better inspect the room. Men were grouped around at different areas, each with a collection of three to six girls laughing and cuddling them. A few girls were dancing on the tables while men sitting close by grinned stupidly up at the swaying figures. A number of the call girls weren’t busy and they were milling about, some talking with each other; others amusing themselves by dancing alone. As Maria completed her surveillance of the room she noticed to her left, three girls staring at her. They were close to her on stools next to the bar. The one on the left looked to be friendly as she smiled a sweet, not innocent but sweet none-the-less, smile. But the other two looked to be trouble. They had harder, more chiseled faces, and the expression painted on their countenance bespoke of jealousy and over confidence. They looked like they were stewing for a cat fight.
Maria smiled back trying to ignore them and crossed her long bare legs to get herself a little more comfortable as she reclined into the rich leather and she draped her left arm out along the back of the couch. She needed to think about her options.
The sweeter looking of the three stood up and came over to sit in the empty overstuffed leather chair next to couch Maria was on. The two other ladies just stared. They seem to like Maria, not one bit. As the girl sat down next to Maria the other two turned to each other and began a hushed secretive conversation than only woman know how to do.
“Just ignore them. They get jealous easily. So, you’re the new girl then?” she asked.
“Yes and no, I guess.” Maria turned away from the two. She couldn’t help smiling back at this exceptionally friendly and beautiful girl.
“The name is Monique. Monique Thérèse Paquet.” She said as she adjusted her short one-piece red velvet dress. She had soul-piercing jade green eyes and thick waves of long raven black hair.
“Maria.”
“You have an interesting accent. Where are you from?” She said. Two dimples appeared with her smile.
“Bolivia. I just got into town tonight.”
“Wow. Isn’t the Empire somewhat strong there?” Her green eyes were moved up and down, checking out Maria as if to see if she was really who she said she was.
“A bit, but I am here now. How about you? Are you from Paris?”
“Oh no; I’m Russian, I come from a city called Penza; it is famous for their universities. Have you heard of it?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“Oh, well that is your loss.” She said without a trace of malice. “My real name is Omel’na, but when I moved to Paris I changed it to Monique. I like it much better. “
A group of partiers in a corner broke out in loud laughter drawing the room’s attention. As the laughter died down Maria turned back but an awkward pause followed. Then Monique blurted out a question that must have been on her mind from the start. “So you’re Bernard’s girl then? Did he treat you well for your troubles?”
“Excuse me, who?”
“You know, Bernard.” She said.
“Oh . . . no. I think there has been some sort of mistake. I came to the club on my own. That gentleman over there invited me up here. I was thinking he was just hitting on me but I guess I thought wrong. Is he Bernard?”
“Oh my, what a mix-up.” Her laugh was infectious as her eyes sparkled. “No, that’s Jacques. He is just a bouncer. Bernard is the owner and we all thought you were his new girl he has been bragging about so much lately. Colette and Genevieve were furious when they saw you walked in.”
“Colette and Genevieve? You mean those two?” Maria asked as she nodded her head in the direction of the bar. “Why would they be mad?”
“Oh sugar, you know how we girls are. With a looker like you, we naturally thought you were this famous girl from the south everyone is expecting. There is a lot a pettiness here and if a girl as pretty as you were this supposed “southern flower” and on call, then it would be like competing directly with the “black widow.”
“Who?”
“Madam de Angorian, why she is only the most beautiful and renowned woman in all of Paris.”
Maria was speechless and she blushed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Monique said hurriedly.
“No, you didn’t. I was just thinking about how attractive all of you girls are and how I was going to keep my boyfriend after he saw you.”
“Is he good looking?”
“He is a dream, but he is a bit complicated.”
“Aren’t they all, sweetie? Aren’t they all? But I would love to meet him.” She said slyly. “Where is he?”
“He is working and I am meeting him later on tonight. I came early to have some fun.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? You won’t have any fun up here. Come on.” Monique said as she jumped up and grabbed Maria’s hand. “Let me show you were the action is at.”
And with that, Monique pulled Maria to her feet and took her past the ogling eyes on the top floor, back down to the dance hall for some dancing, flirting, and uninhibited fun. But Maria missed the dark eyes watching her from the shadows of the third story floor. Black eyes under heavy grey brows that had a sinister purpose and Maria was just the ticket he was looking for. The older man leaded over and whispered to his attendant to follow her.
Maria followed the shorter, but extremely bouncy Monica out of the room and around the corner towards a door marked "stairs / exit."
The Parisians were a mixed group, Mutants and Humans living in harmony with each other. Back in her homeland of Bolivia the division was very noticable, even though the humans would mix with the mutants, the mutants were not allowed into a lot of human only places. It seemed that the wealthy Humans wanted to maintain that division and worked hard to make sure it stayed that way. But Maria really liked what the French were able to pull off, to her it was a utopian society.
Once inside the brightly lite stair well, Monica stopped and turned around.
" Look, you seem like a innocent enough person, so out of view of the cameras and microphones I will tell you this, GET OUT !!, leave now and do not come back if you value your life or body."
She whisper/ screams into her ear. The voice more desperate and beaten down then the perky freindly one she used in the room. Then quickly turning around she moves down the stairs to another door and swings out to the Dance floor. Next to the door is a large, muscular man in a business suit. The earphone and bulge under the jacket let you know he is more then just a bouncer, he must be security. He looks at Monica and then at you, shaking his head.
" You know that this stairwell is not for your use, VIP only !"
He growls out, through large pronounced teeth. The dark hair on his head is cropped short, the suit loose fitting enough to allow his thick neck and shoulders to move up into a hunch.
Monica simply looks at him with a innocent smile and winks.
" Perhaps.... later ....you can remind me of all the rules I have forgotten." she says over her shoulder as she drags Maria out onto the dance floor.
The Music is from a live band and the crowd is moving and spinning to the techno beat.
Monica moves to a corner by some tables where lots of young men are gathered. She grabs Maria and starts dancing with her, at first it is mostly innocent then she starts to move in close, pressing her body up againest Maria, and making provocative gestures and moves.
She moves in close and starts kissing her, right in front of the men.
What does Maria do ?
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