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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 0:00:25 GMT -5
Backdated to:
December 31st, 1959-Janruary 1st, 1960.
22:34 pm
The song was smooth as silk as it wove through the haze of smoke, sweat, laughter, and dangerous adulations. The singer was a small woman who wound her petite curves around the stand like it was a lover. Her eyes simmering with the scintillating hold of alcohol and her body alight with the blaze of vibrant youth. On any other night her gaze would have penetrated every man’s heart and let vicarious fingers slide down to their loins. Tonight however her rapacious sensuality was only for one man.
A young blond man who had saved her life and Bella Uccella didn’t believe in debts.
As far as cages go, the Dai Buffoni restaurant was magnificent; the only thing more awe inspiring than its golden bars of ancient walls and it’s bedding of priceless art was the vicious vermin that crawled on its floor. The bird had almost had her throat torn out by one of these rats, if not for the man in the corner. Thanks to him she had slain the pest in his very bed. Their mission was complete now, he would return to England, this was a new year, the time for reckoning.
She ended her tale of a woman left to die on the shore waiting for her unfaithful sailor to return to her on a warbling note. She blew kisses and wished everyone a happy New Year, keeping her thought of Though I hope everyone of you Liberatores drowns in his wine tonight absolutely silent. She took a glass of water from backstage and politely shooed away admirers, her eyes locked on her capo.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she purred, her voice slightly hoarse as she slid next to him in the dark booth, her hand gently squeezing his thigh.
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 0:25:11 GMT -5
Amel wished that he could enjoy this evening, to let the alcohol flood his system and the song that his top assassin was singing fill his being and allow him to rise above this god awful society and all of its filth. Instead he sat in the booth with his untouched drink, running a finger along the rim nervously as he surveyed the room. They had been lucky to discover the identity of the man who dared to kill one of his family, and he would be damned if he would let someone sneak past him in this public place. The invite to this evening's performance had been unexpected, but now that he was here he wasn't going to let anything go wrong.
His eyes scanned the faces of everyone in the crowd, watching body language and checking for anything suspicious at all. All he found was that everyone in the crowd was locked on the gorgeous woman on stage, jaws dropping and catcalls sounding from all corners. And yet every time that Amel managed to bring his eyes back to the stage, it seemed like Bella was staring at him. Must be my imagination.
He spent the time that she was out of his sight in a small panic, only quelled when she reappeared and walked directly to him, ignoring the calls of those around her. As her hand touched his thigh, he shuddered and jumped slightly, but covered it up with a cough before taking the first sip of his drink. He supposed that it was her job, but a warning would have been nice.
“Well enough, I suppose,” he replied. “I’d be happier if they would turn the bloody heat up in here, though. Must be a way to keep the customers purchasing drinks, keeping the temperature so low.” Again, he cleared his throat, trying to come up with something pleasant to say besides discussing his own discomfort.
"Your...song was lovely, Bella."
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 0:45:04 GMT -5
“It is very kind of you to accept my invitation, a man in your position must be so busy, what with saving lives,” Ines replied with a small smile, pressing closer and letting her hand trail further up his thigh.
She had seen the barely touched drink and his skittish movements. A man like this, he would never relax when he perceived danger all around him. She waved over a waitress, her fingers slowly retreating as she placed her order for a bottle of the finest champagne. With a small wink she let the girl know it was to be “on the house”, though she had no intention of making Amel pay for her service tonight.
“You can call me Ines, I would like such a man to at least call me by my real name,” she explained, remaining close to him, as if taking his request to be warmed literally to mean by body heat. For tonight I will not be a whore, but simply a woman looking to give a pound of flesh.
She nodded when the girl rapidly returned with her bottle and two glasses. The waitress giggled beneath her hand as she sauntered off, no doubt to trap her own quarry tonight. The hand was back on Amel’s thigh, the thin fingers tracing circles along the inside seam of his pants.
“I have a room upstairs, we’ll be safe there.”
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 0:59:20 GMT -5
His breath caught in his throat as she slid her hand up his thigh, and he had to remind himself to exhale before he could speak. “It was…my job,” he said, his voice shaky. His hand clenched around his drink and he took a long sip to try and bring his demeanor back to a more professional level. The young lady had wanted to thank him, but being around so many people in this type of setting was uncomfortable and stifling.
As the champagne was ordered, Amel started to open his mouth to decline, but remembered that he was supposed to be letting her treat him. It was unneeded. Seeing her safe and alive and knowing that another fugitive of justice was dead was enough for him. Plus her body pressed so close to his own was rather comforting, in its own way. The hand on his thigh, however, only proved to make him even more jumpy.
“A…room?” he asked. “Ines, I’m afraid you must have misunderstood me. I’m only here to see for myself that you are alive and well. I do not require your…services.” Before she could answer, he downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp, stopping only when the ice at the bottom of the glass hit his lips. The glass was then slammed to the table as he held back a cough. Amel could drink, but at the same time his tolerance wasn't the best. But just a small drink to calm his nerves sounded like a good idea.
"Like I said," he gasped, "it is my job. But thank you for the thought."
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 1:13:19 GMT -5
“Ah…”Ines raised a hand in a gesture she did not find Amel’s chugging wise. She sighed when he slammed the glass down on the table. You need someone to keep an eye on you, if you’re going to be doing something like that with the Liberatores around.
She just giggled at his flustered refusal, it had been expected. She did find the thought of such a prudish capo very amusing. How delightful he’s ours!
“Mr. Allen come now, it’s rude to refuse a lady’s offer for conversation. I am not here to service you tonight,” It is my own choice to sleep with you, that isn’t service, that’s a favor. “I merely suggested the room as you seem very distracted down here, and no doubt it is rightfully so.”
She hooked her arm with his and with the other gathered the bottle and glasses.
“So come on then.”
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 1:25:23 GMT -5
His brown eyes flicked back to her face at the sweet giggle. Such a precious girl; it was sad that she had to be so skilled in this manner. But looks could be deceiving, especially in Ines’ case. He had heard all about just what type of endeavors she had been through the last few months; the missions that he himself had planned. He knew that she would be beautiful and seductive, but he hadn’t expected her to be so young; even younger than himself, perhaps.
Amel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed softly. This room was horribly cramped and uncomfortable. Making a mental note to check himself for further symptoms of agoraphobia later, he allowed Ines to pull him from his seat and lead him from the room. “Yes, conversation does sound pleasurable,” he mumbled. “I apologize for my assumption. It’s been a great long while since I’ve spoken with someone as urbane as yourself.”
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 9:50:10 GMT -5
“It’s all right Mr. Allen, I can tell you are purple,” Ines reassured him, her breasts brushing against the top of his arm as she walked arm and arm with him. Not yellow, not like the men I must cut open down to the red. You have red, but it is secured in blue. “You have traits of the civilized and the beast, it must be a precarious balance, but no doubt a beneficial one to your occupation.”
She led him up the stairs to the room at the very end. The oak door swung wide to show a room tastefully decorated after the early 20’s. A modest affair that was no doubt more soothing to a customer than an ostentatious and vulgar arrangement. The paintings were of artistic nudes after the impressionists and romanticists however. The bed was at least queen sized with an ornate iron head board and violet sheets, before the bed there was a redwood table atop of which was a chessboard with a half completed game and playing cards. Ines walked past a small bookcase, and if her customers pursued it they would find it full of helpful manuals, erotic literature, and selected love poetry from across the globe.
She stopped before a French door with lacy curtains that opened onto a small balcony. As she opened the twin doors the air became heavy with the roil of bell tolls.
“It is the New Year, come and let me give you a kiss!” she offered holding her arms out to him as she turned her back to the cascading fireworks igniting the night sky.
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 10:12:28 GMT -5
“I suppose that might be true. And please, call me Amel, if I am to call you by your first name as well it seems only fair,” he replied, his head starting to feel light after his less than intelligent decision to down his entire drink. You’re already getting sloppy Amel, and from just a small touch. Keep your head straight. This might be a night off, but you can’t forget all of your training. Remember, she’s just as conniving as you. He frowned at the reference to color, wondering what it meant. Purple, the non spectral color between magenta and violet on the color wheel, often thought of as noble. Was that what she thought of him? Amel glanced down at the frumpy button down shirt and jacket that he was wearing, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden at how unprofessional and not royal he really looked. But she didn’t seem to be ashamed of her unconventional capo.
While she turned towards the doors, Amel took a glance around the room, his eyes landing on the half finished game on the chessboard. His mind began unraveling the pieces, the strategy behind why they now sat where they did, finding a cruel dance between each side as they worked to destroy one another. Black could win in only five more moves, a victory for the handicapped side.
The sounding of bells broke him out of his reverie. He turned towards the young woman, the fireworks behind her head giving her an ethereal glow in the late evening air. He tugged his jacket around his body a bit tighter as he joined her out on the balcony. Amel had kissed other girls before, but he’d been too busy in his research and studies to bother getting and keeping a girlfriend. And while the opportunity presented itself on several occasions, it never lasted long. Still, this was one thing that he knew how to do.
“Felice anno nuovo, Ines. Let us just pray for another year of survival,” he said softly, his head woozy with drink as he leaned in to give her a small kiss on the lips.
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 11:07:13 GMT -5
Ines slid her hands up Amel’s arms before she locked them gently behind his head, her fingers nestling into the ends of his soft blond hair. She took his small kiss and returned it with her own subdued yet scintillating lock, a brief taste of her tongue tinted with champagne and a small nibble on his lower lip as her hips connected with his freely and her breasts heaved against his chest.
“Amel then,” she said as she pulled away, her hands slowly following her as they trailed down his torso and paused at his waist before they fled. She smiled and winked at him, walking to the side table of the bed and pouring him a glass of champagne.
“Make yourself comfortable, I must change out of these heels, it’s dreadful to stand in them for so long,” she explained as she handed him a glass and disappeared into the side bathroom. Never mind she was certainly not only going to change out of her shoes.
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 11:46:48 GMT -5
The feeling of her hands on his neck accompanied by the taste of champagne and the eventual bite to his bottom lip sent shivers up his spine, electric shocks spiking out to his finger tips as he held back from touching her. It wouldn’t be proper to return her embrace, no matter how badly his fingers itched to touch her sweet smelling skin. Even as her hips and breasts came in contact, he merely shuddered and held back a sensual moan, blaming his arousal on the alcohol. He had better control over himself than this.
“Of course,” he said with a small clearing of his throat. “Take your time.” While she ducked into the bathroom, he turned back to the chessboard, trying to take his mind off of his improper thoughts by finishing the game. Standing in the middle of the board, his right hand flew from side to side, a captured pawn, sacrificed rook, the queen set up on one side in an innocent position while she waited for the opportunity to put the king in his inevitable checkmate.
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 17:03:20 GMT -5
Ines sighed as she rotated her ankles after taking off her heels, slipping off her dress next to replace it with a mid thigh length black robe with a red sash and patterned with rising and setting suns. Her hair was taken down next, left to fall in waves to her waist and teased into looking sensually tossed. With a click of the tongue she put a condom in her front pocket; a girl could never be too careful, on or off the clock.
Barefooted now she silently walked back over to him, and smiled as she saw his nearly completed chess game.
“I was the one playing black earlier, I must admit I was going to throw the game,” she said as she picked up her own glass. She smiled; she wasn’t going to be shy about what she did for a living. “Most men just hate to lose, and this one in particular could not have withstood losing to a woman.”
She made a little waving motion with her hand, “he was brown, mundane, of the earth, brown can never change into anything else, it is constant. He always uses the same strategy when we play.”
She sat down, modestly crossing her legs as the silk of her kimono crawled up higher on her thighs on the bed.
“But purple doesn’t work like that, it has the two halves within itself and can adapt as need be. You stand out in a world of yellow and brown men Amel.”
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 17:32:34 GMT -5
Amel nodded, his eyebrow raising slightly as he heard that she was playing the black side. Beautiful, deadly and skilled in chess; it was no wonder she was praised so. He smirked as he moved another piece out of the way of an attack and then put the white king into check for the first time. “Yes, men hate to lose, and he definitely would have lost. His pieces are overloaded, they’re defending too many on one side and leaving the rest open for attack. Foolish.” He shook his head, moving the white king out of harm.
“A shame that you would had to have thrown it. I would’ve loved to have seen your end game.” He glanced up at the second color reference. It was a peculiar way to organize people, but it made sense in a weird sort of way. Even Amel could make the connection between mundane and vibrant color and the quality of a man. Not that he believed Ines’ choice for him.
“You flatter me, truly, Ines,” he answered politely, moving a rook down harmlessly. “I'm afraid that I am as mundane as the man who played this poor game.” Three short moves later and the end game was at its conclusion. The rook on one side and a knight on the other, the king had no where left to run. With a flick of his finger he knocked the white king over where it rolled across the board in defeat.
“You seem to have a fascination with color, and dislike the shade of brown. Is that why you chose the black side?”
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 28, 2009 21:47:41 GMT -5
“It’s nothing to do with dislike or like, we are what we are,” Ines answered, perhaps a bit cryptically as her eyes flicked to his still quite full glass. She smiled and shifted her body and patted the space next to her.
“Sit down, aren’t your legs getting tired? You need not stand at attention in my presence. I’m not L you know,” she lightly teased. Poor thing, he’s so stressed, I wonder when the last time was that he did something for himself.
“I chose black because it is disadvantaged, it’s easier to make a lost more believable with the black,” she explained with a small frown. “That is not how black wants to be however, it wants to swallow everything into it’s embrace. White is the color of loneliness and despair, it is fitting it be used to deceive people.”
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Post by Amel Allen on Jul 28, 2009 22:02:43 GMT -5
Amel grinned and took up her request to sit down, picking up his glass as he went. “My legs aren’t exactly tired, but I guess anyone would prefer sitting to standing,” he answered. As he listened to her explain her strategy, he took a sip of his champagne and winced at the bitter taste. Who could drink this sort of alcohol? The rich and well off seemed to enjoy it, but to him it only tasted like a waste of perfectly good grapes.
“I prefer to play white. He who strikes first wins,” he replied with a small smirk. He was quoting L there, of course. “But a victory with black is always far more gratifying.” His eyes traveled up her bare leg until it met with her lap and lavish robe. He blushed and looked away, taking another sip of his drink.
“I hope to never fall victim to your deceit, Ines.”
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Post by Bella Uccella on Jul 29, 2009 11:49:44 GMT -5
Good boy, let the red rise up Ines thought as she idly lifted and stretched the leg he had glanced at with a blush.
"Let us drink to that," she encouraged, grasping her glass and sliding close to him, her legs uncrossing and her nearly bare thigh pressing against his. She raised the bubbling fluted glass and tossed a curtain of her over her shoulder, releasing the scent of cherry blossoms.
The capo may have been unaware of it, but she received the same training as he, even if for a different purpose. All her skills were his, but he was disadvantaged as this was not his world. His battlefields were streets, warehouses, restaurants, and homes. Hers were bars, bordellos, and the bed. His tactics advanced guerrilla tactics, hers psychological warfare.
All men hated to lose, but they all fell in the end, unaware they were even flagging.
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