Post by leila on Mar 8, 2011 22:35:38 GMT -5
Arms arched over her head, Leila Rebecca Vixen swirled her hips to the beat. She adored this song, and the beat. It was perfect for where she was right now. In Hell. Figuratively of course, not literally. Hell was where she worked, the basement of the Burning Candle club. Up above was heaven, where people could have straight up sex. In the middle was a club, Purgatory. Down here was where the kinks came. Sex was in the air and she loved it, it was intoxicating. She worked as a dancer down here, which meant she also was a “Victim.” There were two different types of Hell dancers after all. Vix preferred to be the victim, and gladly took any patron who wanted a challenge.
Considering Vix never screamed. They always wanted her to scream.
Her sprawling vine and rose tattoo on her right shoulder was entirely exposed, but her uniform left little to the imagination. The red, still semi-healing lacerations on her back were perfectly visible, mostly due to the fact that the only back to the shimmering black shirt she wore were two ties, at the back and the back of the neck. She had finally been allowed to get the whip cuts healed so that she could come back to work. She didn’t mind her job she hated the breaks she had to take when her customers got a tad too…whatever-weapon-they-had-happy. It meant she had to wait too long.
She grinned, rolling her leather clad hips again, amused to dance again and waiting for a partner, maybe one that would want more than a quick dance or two. The black D-ring leather cuffs on her wrists identified her as a Victim dancer, ripe to be danced with or picked for more than that. No such luck tonight, but she was still waiting, the night was still young, there was still such a chance that something interesting my yet happen if she was patient and waited. Or danced. Usually Vix’s lithe body dancing caught the attention of a partner or two, usually. If that didn’t work, her icy blue eyes, flashing with amusement currently, usually caught some form of attention.
She was a beauty and she knew it. She used it to get herself a partner…or two…or three. Vix could handle a lot. She liked pain. It turned her on. Why else would she work where she was? S&M. Perfect name for a song, perfect name for a song that played over the speakers, the beat throbbing and making her heart beat in time to it, making her want what she wanted even more. Even if there was no sex involved, that didn’t matter. She just wanted something more than a dance tonight. She had been out of commission for a week.
She hated being still so long.
She didn’t care what they called her. Vix or Bex, Lala or Leila, Vixen or Rebecca, Reba or LB. It didn’t batter as long as they got this show on the road. She was so ready for more. Give me more, she practically wanted to yell it.
She had been so bored lately, wouldn’t someone entertain her for longer than a few minutes? Or had all the truly badass people in this town already had a taste of Vixen? The tough ass human who played at being a witch to keep herself safe no a days.
Considering Vix never screamed. They always wanted her to scream.
Her sprawling vine and rose tattoo on her right shoulder was entirely exposed, but her uniform left little to the imagination. The red, still semi-healing lacerations on her back were perfectly visible, mostly due to the fact that the only back to the shimmering black shirt she wore were two ties, at the back and the back of the neck. She had finally been allowed to get the whip cuts healed so that she could come back to work. She didn’t mind her job she hated the breaks she had to take when her customers got a tad too…whatever-weapon-they-had-happy. It meant she had to wait too long.
Cause I may be bad
But Im perfectly good at it
Sex in the air
I don’t care I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
But Im perfectly good at it
Sex in the air
I don’t care I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
She grinned, rolling her leather clad hips again, amused to dance again and waiting for a partner, maybe one that would want more than a quick dance or two. The black D-ring leather cuffs on her wrists identified her as a Victim dancer, ripe to be danced with or picked for more than that. No such luck tonight, but she was still waiting, the night was still young, there was still such a chance that something interesting my yet happen if she was patient and waited. Or danced. Usually Vix’s lithe body dancing caught the attention of a partner or two, usually. If that didn’t work, her icy blue eyes, flashing with amusement currently, usually caught some form of attention.
She was a beauty and she knew it. She used it to get herself a partner…or two…or three. Vix could handle a lot. She liked pain. It turned her on. Why else would she work where she was? S&M. Perfect name for a song, perfect name for a song that played over the speakers, the beat throbbing and making her heart beat in time to it, making her want what she wanted even more. Even if there was no sex involved, that didn’t matter. She just wanted something more than a dance tonight. She had been out of commission for a week.
She hated being still so long.
She didn’t care what they called her. Vix or Bex, Lala or Leila, Vixen or Rebecca, Reba or LB. It didn’t batter as long as they got this show on the road. She was so ready for more. Give me more, she practically wanted to yell it.
She had been so bored lately, wouldn’t someone entertain her for longer than a few minutes? Or had all the truly badass people in this town already had a taste of Vixen? The tough ass human who played at being a witch to keep herself safe no a days.