Logs:H'vier and the Whore
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| RL Date: 5 October, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Saorisa |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier has a little trouble and then finds more. |
| Where: A brothel in Ista |
| When: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sexual themes. Saorisa by Tayte. |
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| It was just another night. H'vier's face isn't as familiar as it once was, but he's still no stranger, and Saorisa isn't a stranger to him, though she's only been his flavor of the night on a handful of occasions over the turns he's been patronizing this particular whorehouse. Now the brunette is stretched across the bed on her stomach, her curves cushioned by the mattress that's a little lumpier than the last time; this particular establishment has seen better days. It's just another night where H'vier his been drinking more than he really ought to be. Except tonight someone like Saorisa is willing enough to indulge his drunken desires. Even if only because she's being paid to be willing. Which doesn't make the fact that the bronzerider is having some, uh, technical difficulties as he presses against her any less frustrating. Possibly even embarrassing. He curses under his breath and rolls away before telling her, "Help me with this, will you?" "Of course," Saorisa's smile is warm and lacks any sort of judgment; this probably isn't her first time with this kind of problem. And the pay is good. Her hands are skilled as is her tongue and mouth when plied to the task. She'll use every trick in her book and H'vier can't complain that she didn't try. H'vier can't complain that she didn't try, but he can complain that it's not working. He'll stop her, of course, and lift his hands to rub over his face with all of the frustration that he's currently feeling. If it seems like he's cursing at her, it's probably nothing personal. In the end, he lays there staring at the ceiling with the only thing that's currently hard; his expression. Saorisa's of a calm temperament. She takes the berating in stride, and when she thinks enough time has passed that he might accept her touch, she tries again. After all, she's still being paid. This time, it's not there that she touches him though, it's fingers trailing up his arm, gentle. "Would you like a massage?" She's not unwilling to work for her pay, see. The bronzerider doesn't give any indication that he doesn't want her to touch him when she finally does again. He tilts his head toward her when she asks that question, but answers with a sound rather than words. And then he's shifting onto his stomach, making himself comfortable despite the frustrated tension that's probably not as tense as it would be if he weren't full of booze. And not only because he probably wouldn't be having this issue. Saorisa's ministrations are skilled, but she stays silent for a time, letting him set the tone for this massage. Even when she finally makes some sound, it's a quiet tuneful humming. Maybe she was a harper in her past life. Even whores have those, right? It's not until H'vier is rather more relaxed and not worrying about the things he can't make happen, after he's listened to her humming for a time, before he says anything. And when he does it's, "Why do you do this?" Kind of a non-specific question. "Touch you?" She guesses without direction. With perfect whorish sincerity, she answers, "Because I like it, baby." That's not what he meant, but H'vier lets it stand for a few minutes. It helps that he's much more relaxed now. Maybe he'll even be able to manage to use their time more pleasantly in a little while. "Why are you here? Why do you whore?" That's what he meant. Saorisa's quiet some moments while she lets her hands continue their magic. He asked, and it's the kind of thing one has prepared answers for, but for some reason the whore doesn't reach into her bag of tricks. Instead, she seems to give him the truth. "It's a living. Easier than some, harder than others. I can afford what I need doing this. But girls do it for all kinds of reasons. Many for vanity, fewer for fun. Some come looking to do it, others-- just fall into it." For a moment she looks distinctly troubled; the perfect mask is briefly removed. Then sadder, "Some end their days this way, others escape as easily as they fell into it." And quieter still, "Most of us stay because once you've done this, you can't be decent folk unless they let you," presumably the proprietors. H'vier is, well, drunk. So, while he tries pretty hard to follow along, some of that probably doesn't process as well as it might usually. "Once a rider, always a rider," he says like there's some sort of similarity. Then he sighs heavily, asking, "Is it what you want?" In other words, is she here because she can't stop? Or because she actually wants to do what she's doing? "Of course, baby," only this time it isn't very convincing. Still, Saorisa smiles at him and lets her fingers drift across his shoulders. "I knew a girl once who got out when they'd rather she stay." This is said in a hush. "Someone helped her. She spent every last mark she had and who knows what else she had to promise, but..." Liberty is worth it all, isn't it? "She was different. She had people to help her on the outside. A life worth going back to." "Do you need help?" is the most obvious question for H'vier to ask Saorisa. She's the one that matters to him right now because they're naked together and she's touching him. Not much depth here just now. "No, baby, I'm fine." This isn't that convincing, but it becomes more so, "I'm great, really. I'm with you." Saorisa's smile is authentic enough. "Let me get something I think you'll like." It's as she's turning to move off the bed that she says, more to herself than him and in a very off-handed way. "I wonder what happened to Kaytee anyway." H'vier knows that name. It takes him a second (or ten) to remember why he knows that name, though, so it's a little belated when he finally says, "Wait. What did you say?" She's at the dresser where some tools of the trade are kept, looking through the top-most drawer. "Hm?" Saorisa responds distractedly, "I said I was getting something I think you'll like." "No," says the bronzerider, shifting to his side and then pushing himself up with one arm. "The other thing. The last one. The girl." "Oh," Saorisa turns back with what she went to retrieve in hand. "I was just wondering out loud what happened to the girl that got out. If she's happier now. Or if she's worse off. If a whore is really always a whore. Even ones who only do it for just a little while." H'vier is staring at Saorisa like she's just grown a few more breasts. In a way that isn't somehow still attractive, even. Comprehension is a slow thing. Give him a few minutes and maybe he'll be able to use words again. Saorisa's familiar with a lot of different kind of stares, but this one... not so much. Her brows furrow and she arrests in her path back toward the bed. "Are you okay?" Which is an interesting sort of question because of what started them down this particular path of conversation to begin with. "No," is the easy answer. And, hey, H'vier recognizes that he's not okay right now, so that's something. Maybe the booze is wearing off enough for his brain to function more properly now. It's been a very not okay night in general. "I know her. I think. I know that name. She doesn't use it anymore." Saorisa looks surprised, quite genuinely. "Blonde? Leggy? Mixes a mean mojito?" She asks with brows raised, still not moving back toward the bed. That must be a decent description of the woman in question because H'vier says incredulously, "She was a whore? The mother of my children is a whore." Was. Is. Same difference. Once a whore... But here Saorisa looks completely out of her depth and something in the quality of H'vier's voice has her stepping toward the door. "I'll-- go get you something to drink." And then she's gone. The drink will come, but not by Saorisa's hand. The date's over, apparently. Another drink is probably the last thing that H'vier needs. But that doesn't keep him from taking it. "Where's Saorisa?" They aren't supposed to be done yet. It's not an unfamiliar scenario. Whores here aren't paid well enough to risk themselves. Something in his manner must have spooked Saorisa because it's the madame that brought the drink and her smile is superficially apologetic. "She was needed in another room, sir. We do beg your forgiveness." Not that they'll return his marks. They never do when he's been cut off. It's his own fault, really, or so they assume. "She'll be glad to tend to you another night, of course." But she won't be. Not ever again, if she can help it. "I want to talk to her," says the bronzerider stubbornly. "Bring her back." The madame's apology face is quite sincere. "I'm sorry, but it's just not possible." And the whores aren't paid to talk. It's probably a good thing that H'vier is not sober because this would make him a lot more angry if he was. As it is, he growls at the madame and tells her, "Get out." So he can get dressed in peace. Which he starts to get up to do anyway, granted, because it's not like he's modest or anything. She goes; what does she care so long as the business end of things runs smoothly? The bronzerider gets dressed as quickly as possible. When he leaves the room, the door slams. At least he didn't smash his glass or anything immature like that. Probably. And he doesn't go looking for Saorisa. He just leaves. |
Comments
Alida (05:39, 7 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
Whoa. Surprise discovery is surprising.
Edyis (05:59, 7 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
And How!
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