( not like ani, who can drop her top and have men gawk like she's a magician with a bag full of magic tricks, their one braincell pinging around their skulls. the upsell is natural, second-habit, even if the scenery is all wrong — light streaming in from gauzy curtains where they should be blinding strobes, flashes of flourescent lighting, a tailored stage production to make her look like a fucking goddess. she flips a stream of dark hair over one shoulder with a prideful flick of acrylics, strands of holographic tinsel catching in the light. a boastful of confidence where she feels none, stuck in this filthy, unfamiliar shithole that's as luxurious, and just as broken down, as her charade of a marriage had been. )
Did you bring me here? ( it's looking less and less likely, and ani should do what she's always done, when cobwebs and dust fly out of a man's wallet: move on, until she gets what she wants. more's the point, he's — well, kind of a weenie, library book boy. she could take him, if it turns out he's some kind of creep with his fingers in girl's drinks. she squints, face softened in mocking, pitying sympathy. ) My husband is very well-connected, y'know. Friends in high places. He wouldn't be very happy if he finds out you crossed me.
cw: date rape references? if you squint
( not like ani, who can drop her top and have men gawk like she's a magician with a bag full of magic tricks, their one braincell pinging around their skulls. the upsell is natural, second-habit, even if the scenery is all wrong — light streaming in from gauzy curtains where they should be blinding strobes, flashes of flourescent lighting, a tailored stage production to make her look like a fucking goddess. she flips a stream of dark hair over one shoulder with a prideful flick of acrylics, strands of holographic tinsel catching in the light. a boastful of confidence where she feels none, stuck in this filthy, unfamiliar shithole that's as luxurious, and just as broken down, as her charade of a marriage had been. )
Did you bring me here? ( it's looking less and less likely, and ani should do what she's always done, when cobwebs and dust fly out of a man's wallet: move on, until she gets what she wants. more's the point, he's — well, kind of a weenie, library book boy. she could take him, if it turns out he's some kind of creep with his fingers in girl's drinks. she squints, face softened in mocking, pitying sympathy. ) My husband is very well-connected, y'know. Friends in high places. He wouldn't be very happy if he finds out you crossed me.