Malin is engrossed in a pair of rather lovely earrings as you walk toward her, ruby-like crystals held in an intricate basket of golden wire. She squints in concentration and the red crystals change color to a deep emerald green. When you get close she gasps with a start. "Oh! You scared me."
"Those earrings look fetching on you, Malin," I offer as I peer at them. I reach out to touch one with the tip of my finger, "What causes them to change color?"
Malin grins. "They're a reactive polymer with an embedded superconducting mesh that responds to faint pulses of wirelessly delivered current to change the internal crystalline structure and polarity." She pauses. "I think. They also provide a petabyte of wirelessly accessible storage each."
The young dwarf gives you an impish look. "Uh... I mean, they're like magical mood rings that can keep songs you like on them."
My eyes widen a bit, then glass over during the long version of what it is. "A petabyte? It could carry every song you've ever heard on them, at lossless." I grin, then ask, "What mood is emerald green?"
Malin chuckles delightedly, then punches you lightly in the arm. "They're not really mood rings. I was just translating into something I thought your brain would understand. But if they were... green would be happy. Good mission, we got Lindo back, Nizoni got to ride a pretty horse, I saw merrows, and we're in the most amazing store I've ever seen." She lowers her voice so as not to carry. "I don't really need any gadgets except for some external storage so I don't have to try and keep everything in my head, but they're still really fun. And the herbs smell nice."
"Who can't use more stylish storage, right?" I whisper back. "You have to get them, Malin. They suit you. Pretty and surprising." I avoid words like little and adorable. Because that's not what I mean, and it might ruin her good mood.
Malin's eyes twinkle as you compliment her. "Oh, I'm getting them. I have to have someplace to put all the surveillance footage of you Nizoni gave me." She waits a beat and then asks, "Did you get anything? I saw you go in the back."
"Footage of me doing what?" I ask. I'm not surprised Niz has it. I'm shocked she's offered to share it. It must be hilarious. "You cannot lie to your sensei, Malin." I put on a mock tone of teacher-to-lowly-student, but my heart's not in it.
"I might have picked up a little trinket. Nothing special." I add.
She squints a little at that last, but lets it go except for saying, "You'll need someone to help you set it up, whatever it is." With an honest-to-goodness wink, she goes on, "And, oh sensei, does intent matter? I was lying, but the intent was to poke fun." Generally full of herself in a new place with no immediate threat, she keeps going. "I've been told I have an excellent sense of humor. Of course, never face to face." She makes a 'pondering that' face.
That gets me shaking my head. Mocking my data skills? I should get her to train me on some of this drek. "Fun has been poked. You have an excellent sense of humor, Malin." I switch to a slight more serious tone to add, "I'm really thankful to have you on the team. You keep us light. It's good."
A smirk crawls on my face as I switch subjects, "You're going to be dancing at the Inferno tonight, right?"
Malin ducks her head with a smile. "You bet I'm going to dance. Who knows, a girl might even get lucky. What happens in Seattle stays in Seattle, right?"
"Be careful, Malin," I warn in a half-serious tone. "He sounds pretty hot. I may want to frag him." I chuckle, then let the flirting die as I break eye contact and look over at Lindo. "Tonight's going to be wiz. I want the whole team to have fun." I look back at her, "What do you think Niz would want to do? For fun? I've known her forever, and I never know... short of riding horses, it seems."
Malin thinks about that. "Hmm. I don't really know what she likes to do besides sneaking around and stealing things. Do you want me to ask?" Another second then she switches tracks slightly. "I think I'm looking forward to watching Lindo dance, now that he doesn't hurt so much."
Malin gives an amused snort. "Yeah, he's got rhythm. Like a washing machine with the load off balance. thudTHUNK thudTHUNK thudTHUNK THUNK THUNK ... THUNK." She smiles. "He'll go, though, and have a good time. He doesn't mind not being a good dancer, just likes the people watching and the vibe."
From there, it's pretty much a whirlwind of an afternoon. Clothes for everyone, including Lindo, who manages to find a nearly identical but less worn black suit. You score the cigars you were hoping for when you pass a storefront with AR signage that announces it to be "Smoketeria." Everyone's sated on shopping and looking at people and places by the time you make your way back to the hotel.
To be honest, it's still pretty early to be heading out to Dante's Inferno. You've got a few hours before you need to get spiffed up, shine your scalp, and meet the crew for your night on the town. Here's the question - do you try to set up your spiffy new connection to the world yourself?
As it turns out, it is easy. Your new WIDE (Wireless Interface Device, External), throws out a simple AR overlay that's immediately picked up by your dataport and conveyed to the new shades. Have you ever cleaned a window and then looked out to see details on the building opposite that you never noticed before? That gargoyle is holding a cluster of grapes for some reason, or there's an area of pixels out in the "holy drek has it always been that bright?" billboard for Stuffer Shack on the roof?
This is kind of like that. The AR resolution is more clear, the sound that comes in through the specs' earpieces is pristine. The whole wireless world seems faster, more maneuverable.
As it happens, within a minute or two of the WIDE integrating with your Personal Area Network, Jessi finally returns your ping. The icon glows softly to catch your attention.
"It wasn't a cake walk, but it's done. Lindo's back." I answer with relief. I've been anxious for this call for a while now. I think I'll like the answer to this question. "How was the, ah, handover of your dress?"
Jessi's tongue flicks out to touch her lips as her eyes widen slightly. "Lili is... very talented, and not just on stage. Her skin is so soft, and oh, Jube, her tongue..." She swallows. "I think she may be an adept or something. I swear, she made me wet just with her eyes and tone of voice during dinner. She wasn't even saying anything sexy. Then, after dinner, we went back to her suite. We didn't have to talk about it, just somehow knew that we agreed. She undressed me like I was something precious, then slipped off her dress and shoes." Jess smiles, lost in the memory for a moment. "After the first time, she sang for me. For just me."
Her nostrils flare as she inhales. "Hurry home, babe. I want to tell you all the stories... and maybe act a few things out. You know, show and tell?"
This story is smoking hot. My eyes linger over Jessi's mouth as she tells her tale, her taste of what she experienced. "You are precious, Jess. I'm glad Lili recognized that. And I am down for some show and tell. Definitely." I smile in anticipation and savor the moment we're sharing before moving on.
"Everything else good? I'm working on a new run that should help with the store."
Jessi pauses, clearly considering what to say. "Everything's good. I have some information about what's going on with Mac's, but it can wait until you get back. No need for you to be distracted."
"You tell me about Lili, but you don't want me to be distracted?" I tease. She's right, nothing I can do from here, might as well let it simmer. "If you say it can wait, it can wait. But if I can help, Jess, you better loop me in." I wait for her to loop me in, but I doubt she will.
"I'll be home in a few days. Anything you'd like from Seattle?"
Jessi does not loop you in, but you can read her expression well. It can wait, but whatever it is, is going to be a pain in the butt. As to a memento of your trip... "Why don't you surprise me? Tell you what, I'll make it a challenge: no jewelry, no clothes, no perfume... nothing girly. And cigars don't count, since that would be for us."
I nod, "Challenge... accepted." I incline my head to her, and if she has any other chatting, we'll do that. I miss her more now than I have on any other trip. It's odd.
My mind's whirring with possible gifts. What ever could she want?
I'll send Malin a message: I need to find an amazing gift for Jess.
Put on your thinking cap. Nothing girly.
You get down to the lobby to see Mat and Lindo both superluxe in new outfits. Lindo, of course, is simply wearing a less worn version of his usual, but Mat is dressed like Don Gobbi on a smaller scale. Suit, tie, million-thread-count handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. He's even got some bling... a ring you've never seen that looks old, and a ruby tie pin.
After about thirty seconds, the elevator dings again, and you see Malin and Nizoni emerge. Niz's hair is up in an elaborate doo, and Malin is a simply perfect good thing in a small package, in a sheath dress of shimmering silk shot through with conductive thread that sends off tiny sparks with every step.
There's a moment of silence as the ladies arrive. Anything to say, Jube?
"Guys, I thought we looked sharp." I say, looking at Niz and Malin, but "talking to" Mat and Lindo. "But these ladies are simply amazing." I look at Malin's dress, "Sleek and high tech. That dress suits you so perfectly, Malin." Then to Nizoni, "Niz, when you aren't dressed to be invisible, you are simply divine."
Nizoni gives you a predatory grin. "I'm always divine, Jubilex. I'm just channelling a different goddess sometimes..."
You set off for the few-block walk to Dante's Inferno. The line is long. Starts two blocks away, and there's the whole stairwell to the top floor between you and party-time. Got any ideas, or are you waiting patiently? Nuyen alone ain't gonna cut it here, but I'm sure you'll get in before two AM. Really. Well, mostly sure.
This would be annoying if I didn't have a team of Shadowrunners. "Niz, find us an infil. Malin, look for gaps in their systems. If we don't find an easy entrance, I want you to put our names on the list, if you know what I mean."
My mouth opens slightly in surprise. "Emma's the girl from the ferry. I mentioned we were coming to Inferno. I guess... I made an impression?" I give Malin a little grin, glance over at Niz and then Lindo.
You've seen the look Lindo gives you before, wonder and maybe a touch of bewilderment. Malin and Mat both grin, but Nizoni simply shrugs like "Of course you made an impression. It's what you do."
You're allowed in to the stairway and climb up and up to the "first" floor, all the way at the top of the multilevel club. You can see through the glass walls the different crowds dancing, drinking, flirting... your AR presents various overlays as options, but really there's already plenty of color and light and action to look at.
When you enter the club proper, it's a riot of sound. There's a long backlit bar with every kind of legal intoxicant you can imagine, a dance floor packed with glittering examples of Seattle's club scene in all shapes, sizes, and metahuman variations, tables with and without sound baffling to allow for conversation. You're certain that dozens of business deals and even more negotiations of a more... intimate nature are going on around you.
Who's the first from your team to hit the dance floor, and what do you do first?
Matt hits the floor, pulling Malin along. And yes, Matt has very little rhythm, but he seems to be having some fun.
I'm heading to the bar with Lindo, and I think Niz? I wonder if she'll make it all the way before something distracts her. And yes, I'm keeping an eye out for Emma.
Nizoni breaks off halfway to the bar, distracted either by a high-level corp type's trophy wife or by the very shiny necklace glittering around her throat.
Lindo
You and Lindo get to the bar, and he takes a look at the liquor on the shelves, holding up a hand to prevent you from ordering. "This round is on me, boss." He gets the bartender's attention, then says, "Rum, darling. Kirk and Sweeney 30 year-old. Neat. Two doubles, please. We're sipping." He gives the cute bartender a wink.
She raises an eyebrow. Apparently not much call on the top floor for the absolute premium spirits. She's human, and pretty tall, but still needs to pull over a step-stool to reach the bottle. After pouring two generous double shots, she gives Lindo a smile and says, "Enjoy."
Sipping this dark golden liquid is like taking a vacation to the Bahamas and staying in an old colonial mansion. Lindo returns the toast gesture with a wink, then says, "Ma pere used to say that if a man wasn't looking he wasn't breathing." He takes another sip, then says, "I'm thinking maybe I'll aim to do a touch more than look tonight. The loa's oversight, not taking back what he lent me, I'm feeling a little frisky."
"Good luck then, brother." I take a blessed sip of this rum. Worthy of Papa Legba himself. Fringe benefit of Lindo's occupation, I guess. After that drink, I'm going to hit the floor, dance with Malin and Mat for a song or two, team bonding and all that fun. Soon enough, I'll take a stroll around the Inferno and look for my mysterious host Emma.
Dante's Inferno is set up in nine descending levels, the top seven each "celebrating" one of the seven deadly sins, and the bottom two (invitation-only, very posh) being Purgatory ("Where's there's a chance of getting into Heaven."), and then finally Hell ("Where you forget all about Heaven."). This top level is Envy, and the decoration reflects that: pictures of beautiful people and beautiful homes. Video of ugly men being pampered by gorgeous women. The overall color scheme is shades of green, of course.
The beat is loud, and it's easy to slip into a groove with Malin and even Mat. Nizoni slips in and out, occasionally joining you for a few steps before disappearing again.
A few minutes later, you hear people begin to clap rhythmically to the beat of the neo-salsa coming over the speakers, and look over to see Lindo expertly squiring a young lady with perfect skin the color of cafe au lait around the floor in complex steps that seem to involve a lot of contact and significant hip motion.
You're pretty sure Emma's not on this level. You'd certainly have noticed her by now, right?
If I've learned anything about this mysterious South African lady, it's that she makes an impression. She's not on Envy, it doesn't even suit her, so I'm not surprised. I'll excuse myself and work my way down a few levels and circle around Purgatory.
Next level down is Pride. Lots of mirrors, of course, and the lighting for the scattered booths and tables treats them like museum displays. Somewhere, a hidden set of spotlights occasionally picks out a couple on the dance floor or someone waiting for a drink at the bar. Did any of the team venture down from Envy with you, Jube?
Cute. Not Emma's thing, I guess. Interesting. She seems to have a spot of it. Malin tagged along. I think Niz will be around. I mean, really, it's Nizoni, she'll check out pride just for folks with too much nuyen and not enough sense, you know?
I'll play wingman for Malin here if she's interested, but I'm thinking finding a prideful guy isn't her cup of tea, so we'll skip down another level quickly unless something undeniable happens.
Malin isn't overly impressed with the talent on the Pride level, so after a quick look around for Emma, the two of you proceed to the next. Wrath.
Reds in all shades. Cages where (patrons, it seems like?) pairs and small groups pummel each other, Fight Club style. The music is all heavily distorted guitars and screaming, and there's little to distinguish the dancing from the fights. Apparently, this is also the tequila level: the bar's lined up with dozens of tequilas and mezcals in all sorts, including some of the stuff you know made you throw up when you first started drinking.
The music gets my blood pumping, and I watch some of the fighters with interest for a few moments. I look to Malin, ask wryly, "Want to fight for a great bottle of tequila? Or should we move on?"
Malin gives you something surprisingly like an evil grin. "What do you think, sensei? You think your padawan is ready to stand by your side in a quest for tequila?"
It's sort of like "open mike night," but with fists instead of microphones. You sign up for you and Malin to join up in the fights. After a minute or two, a very announcer-y voice pipes up over the PA. "Next up, Cage 3. Jubilex and Malin facing off against Jimmy Mac and Deirdre O'Malley."
I don't know about Malin, but I've removed my shirt, socks and shoes by the time they call our names. My pants are too tight for much kicking, so I'll be boxing mostly. When they call our names, I'll head for the lights, assuming there's a starting point, and look for Jimmy...
Oh frag me. Jimmy Mac?!?
"Malin, you've got Deirdre. I'll deal with Jimmy Mac. And... you might want to pretend you don't actually know me right now."
Malin has kicked off her shoes, and her dress must have some high-tech way to adapt on the fly, because there are now slits to mid-thigh on each side, giving her freedom of motion. When you step up to the cage, Jimmy Mac sees you and his eyes widen. He gives you a slow, vicious grin. He's removed his shirt and shoes, as well, and stands there in a black wife beater looking quite a bit more buff than the last time you saw him. His partner Deirdre, shrugs off a fur coat to step into the cage wearing only her short skirt.
Here they are, by the way.
Anything to say before they close the cage and ring the bell?
I give Jimmy Mac a grin back, then look over to Deidre. Uhm, yeah. Didn't expect that either.
"Malin," I say in a tone that is low for her to hear. "Whatever you do. Don't get distracted by Deidre's very nice breasts." I look over at Malin, give her a wink. "I know it will be difficult. It's... pretty hard for me, too. But focus, and we'll get that fraggin tequila. I'm thinking body shots. And yes, I meant that as a double entendre."
An employee closes the cage and then rings an old fashioned brass bell as a crowd gathers to watch and Jimmy growls something that might be "...end you.". You're definitely the fastest one in the cage, so why don't you tell me what you do, and we'll go from there?
I'm putting on a show here, right? I'll walk up to Jimmy, fists down, let him come at me first. I'll let him throw a big ugly haymaker, then I'll dance out of the way.
Jimmy may have been working out, but he's still not much of a fighter. He probably relies more on intimidation based on his connections and reputation for craziness that he does anything like skill.
His strength is impressive, but I'm a Street Samurai, I'm trained to use it against him. I'm spending a FP to use my Sammy Aspect to boost that to a 5.
Jimmy honestly looks puzzled when his punch doesn't connect. He cracks his neck and puts up a sloppy street-boxer's guard. His grin is certainly gone, though.
Deirdre, on the other hand, is fast. She gets to Malin with a high kick just as Malin fully settles into her ready position. Your technomancer rolls out of the way, but she's going to really have to put on her game face to get through this without help. She can do it, given your training, but it's not a certain thing.
Let's see an attack here, Jube. Describe, then roll in a separate post.
A boxer's guard? Well, I'll put up my dukes, too. But I'm faster, so I'll throw a couple jabs at his head, enough to make him flinch and cover up. Then, right cross, hard into his belly. I want to make him cough and have trouble breathing. If I can put him down fast enough, I can back Malin up.
Well, Jimmy is CERTAINLY out of the fight. Instead of the traditional Boost for beating by three shifts, I'll give you a choice. Either you do this in a way that doesn't humiliate Jimmy even further and leave him swearing a vendetta (and describe that), or you do this and describe how you step in to prevent Malin from getting hurt. Not desperately hurt, but probably badly enough to put a damper on her night.
I wouldn't mind avoiding a vendetta, but I'm not letting this ruin Malin's night. Sure, it might teach her some kind of lesson... whatever that might be. I'll make sure to back Malin up, pissed-off Jimmy be damned.
You get in place to back Malin up, and Deirdre (of course... seems reasonable) evaluates you as the more significant threat. She's definitely wired, some way or another, because she zips past Malin toward you. (Apparently, tequila's a big thing in her world, too...) Her foot actually launches her off Jimmy's prone form to make it a leap. Her teeth are bared in a grimace that shows a mouthful of sharpened teeth.
Tell me, Jube. You made the roll, and the choice to protect Malin. How do you take Deirdre down, and do you manage to get her to agree to you taking a body shot of tequila off her after?
The best way to deal with someone as fast as Deidre is to not go head-to-head. I let her slip by me on her right cross, then slipped into a hold, on arm around her throat, the other to the back of her head. She stomped my foot something fierce, and head-butted me, but I said low in her ear, "I'll share the tequila with you, Deidre. Don't make me regret it, alright?"
Turned out, she listened to reason. I didn't have to choke her out. She simply said "Mate", and they called it.
Jimmy's growling as he recovers, and glaring at both you and Deirdre, but it takes him a minute to shake off the beating. He's not going to cause you any trouble tonight. Deirdre, however, shrugs back on her fur coat as she shrugs off the hoots of the crowd. As the cage opens, this daughter or niece of one of Seattle's great crime families (you don't keep up on ALL the players, do you?) simply waves at the bartender, who plunks down a bottle of tequila so expensive that you don't recognize the name. Malin follows behind, disgruntled at having been rescued, but not to the point that she's gonna be stomping around.
There are a few ways to do body shots with a lady. Deidre isn't wearing the right clothing for her to have cleavage, so I pull her up onto the bar, ask her to lie on her back, and push her fur coat off to the sides, and pull it up away from her nice, tight tummy.
I grab a lime wedge, and place it in her mouth, then take that amazing drink of tequila and some salt. I look to the crowd, then lean over Deidre, hover over the lime like I'm about to kiss her. Instead, I dive down to nuzzle and lick her neck. Once I've got her neck wet, I pour a thin line of salt. I can hear the crowd hooting and yelling her name. Some of them have even stopped fighting.
Standing up to hold the drink aloft, I slowly pour a healthy dose onto her belly, aiming for her belly-button. I see goose bumps rise up on her pale skin, and she flinches a little, which is amusingly adorable from such a badass. With an eager mouth, I lean over to drink from her body, licking all the delicious tequila from her sweaty skin. Then I'm up to lick the salt from her neck, and that's nearly as good.
The final moment is when I come up to her mouth. Of course I have to get that lime, but if she resists, I'll linger. This is all in good fun.
Malin watches with interest as you go through the ritual with Deirdre. For her part, the mob princess seems to enjoy the way you've chosen to collect your winnings, tremors running through her lean muscles at each stage. When you do finally take the lime from her lips and bite it, she reaches with her left hand to take the spent wedge from your mouth and snakes her right around your neck to pull you in for a deep, long kiss.
After, she whispers in your ear. "Better go, hot stuff, before Jimmy decides he has to do something really stupid. He's an ass, but there's no need for him to get hurt."
After she gets to her feet, Deirdre turns to Malin. "You take care of yourself pretty well in a fight. How are you in the jungle?" She indicates the room with her head. "I could use some company to take the edge off all the testosterone and adrenaline floating around here."
I nod to Deidre. She nipped at my tongue at the end, that girl's dangerous. When she suggests I head out, I give Malin a nod like "go ahead, have fun with fur-coat-lady". If she wants to go with Deidre, I'm cool with it.
Honestly, she'd probably be a third wheel once I find Emma. Which is what I plan to do as soon as I throw my shirt back on. I'll avoid Jimmy Mac and head down to the next level.
Malin picks up the tequila Deirdre has poured for her and gives you an adventurous grin. "I'm good. If Deirdre here gets tired of me, I'm sure I can find someone to entertain me."
Next level down is Gluttony. Everywhere huge tables are covered with food in ludicrous quantity. Roasts and loaves of bread and platters like something out of a George R.R. Martin novel. Grapes hanging down from suspended trellises. Deserts: mousses and cakes and pies. People drinking from gigantic glasses and mugs. Low mirrored tables with bowls of pills and piles of powder. This doesn't seem much like Emma's style, so I'm guessing you move on.
Greed. Oh, Greed. Decorated in gold and Swarovski crystals, with gemstones sparkling everywhere. The bar is lucite with old currency and coinage embedded in it, and the customers on this level are dressed to the tens, with jewelry and watches and conspicuous gadgetry aplenty. Nizoni will certainly find this level, and likely have good hunting. Champagne and ancient cognac and single-malt Scotch flow freely, and the food is caviar and kobe beef and oysters from the most remote and pristine bays.
Sloth is set up like no club space you've ever seen. Sofas and divans and reclining chairs are scattered around, canopied like antique beds and with clubgoers draped languorously in and on the furniture. The air is perfumed with the scent of opium and the bar is lined with bottle after green bottle of absinthe, while the bartenders make hot toddies and warm milk.
You know what that leaves, don't you? The last of the Deadly Sins, Lust assails you with the smell of musk and sweat and sex and the sight of bodies in all states of dress and undress dancing, touching, twining together... a near borged-out ex-military type with (apparently) at least part of his original equipment intact is grimacing in pleasure as he gets a blowjob from a heavily tattooed female dwarf in the middle of the dance floor. The lights are low, the music sultry, and the drinks apparently include such ingredients as Spanish fly, gingko, and ginseng. Oyster shooters also seem popular.
You don't see Emma, at least immediately, but it's all of about thirty seconds before a striking black woman, dressed in a light shrug, skintight black shorts, and four inch heels that make her just a bit taller than you, grabs you by the belt and onto the dance floor. She immediately moves in close to you and starts the sort of dancing that is much more like clothed sex than any sort of choreography.
Deidre got me warmed up, so this is not at all unwelcome. No Emma, but I know she's here. This feels... planned?
Oh, I'm dancing with her.
I'm trying to get a read off this. Am I someone she picked out? Was she looking for me? My hand's on her hip, we're grinding together. I seek out her lips with my own. If she kisses me or turns away, I say, "Hi. I'm Jubilex."
She returns your kiss with abandon, reaching a hand around your waist to pull you even closer at the pelvis. When you introduce yourself, she responds, "I don't much care about your name, choombata. As long as you're a man of substance, if you know what I mean." Her other hand insinuates itself between you artfully and grasps the evidence of effect she and Deirdre have had on you. "And it seems you are."
Why don't you give me a Rapport role here, if you want. Discovering or creating an Aspect (which is how I'm taking "get a read on this") is a Create an Advantage action. She's not actively opposing, so we'll call that a static difficulty of +2.
The thing is, she moved on you because you're different from the usual fare at this high-priced club. Not a corp suit; not a businessman acting like a mobster or a mobster acting like a businessman; not a full-of-yourself ephemeral celebrity; not someone that just happens to have inherited the cash and party it away. To her, your the Most Interesting Man in the Room.
Also, something clicks... your brain catches some hint of a hint—a slight musicality in her voice and the configuration of her facial paint—and your new interface device lets you check faster than ever before, in a corpsec database you're not supposed to still have access to. Not as quick as Malin, but quick. That face paint she's wearing? It's an indicator of a small tribe within the Neligambba ethnic group from what used to be Senegal and Gambia. A small tribe that trains their daughters as assassins. If she's wearing the paint, though, she's not on duty. So there's that.
Whatever the circumstances, it's clear she's Up All Night to Get Lucky.
That was a great roll. I'll give you three free Invokes (total) on the two Aspects we've defined. Do with that what you will.
I grin back at her, "I have proper motivation to be substantial." I turn slightly away from her grasp, not offended, merely teasing, and pull her into a bit of a tango. I'm curious if she knows the steps. I'm rather sure a Neligambba girl can pick them up if needed. I'd like to keep her attention, and keep her interested, but deny her immediate gratification.
Your mystery woman moves smoothly into the steps of the tango you pull her into, following your hips, your shoulders, without ever pulling her eyes away from yours. She's good, Jube. Really good. Little touches along your most... responsive bits; whispered "words" that pass your new interface's filters as gibberish but are instantly recognized by the sub-brain in your groin; the promise of her lithe body's contact against yours.
Knowing she's a pro in whatever way gives you some sense of what's going on. A sarariman? Lost. Mat or Lindo? Probably lost. Did I say she's good? And she's not even on the job at the moment, as far as you can tell. Just hungry and determined.
Mystery Woman is about to roll Rapport as an Attack (we've rolled a bunch of things together, so that seems fair), and you can totes Defend with Will.
Continuing with her small touches of seduction and arousal, she leans in to speak softly in your ear as you dance, letting the music of her barely-there accent tickle you along with her breath. "In the next village from where I was born, there was a woman called Ife. She was so beautiful, and along with it she had a gift, a magic. She said that one of the gods had come to her in the night and taught her magic words. She could make any man hard with two syllables and give him the best orgasm of his life with another two. All without even touching him." She gives herself to the music and the movement for a few moments before continuing. "I always thought that was a wasted gift. I like to be touching a man when I make him come. And how did she get hers, I wonder? Did she talk to herself?" She takes your hand and starts to pull you off the dance floor toward one of the shadowed booths along the far wall.
"I like a hand-on experience myself, " I agree as she pulls at me. I resist leaving the dance floor, though. Still smiling, "You are far too intriguing to be a nameless beauty, and I know you're not intending to kill me. I ask again, what is yout name?" Then I add a lifeline, "Or... what should I call you when you use your skills on me?"
Tugging you into the curtained booth—which is more a wide and deep sofa with a narrow shelf for drinks and small plates than a traditional "booth"—she settles in with a smoldering grin. "Why don't you just call me 'Ife.'" She looks at the curtain. "Curtain open or closed, you think? I don't mind an audience if you don't."
I pull the curtain closed after I enter, "I don't want your tricks to get out, Better-than-Ife." I join her on the sofa, nudging her onto her back as my hands move to her shurg, "Or mine, for that matter." My lips close on hers, then move downwards, devouring her mocha flesh. I'm curious if she'll let me take the lead.
For now at least, Ife seems content to let you explore. She is exquisitely toned, Jube, with the muscling of a long-distance runner combined with that of someone extensively trained in jeet kun do or something else fast and deadly. When your lips move to her neck, she gives a low moan and reaches up to open her little sweater for better access.
I take great pleasure in Better-than-Ife's body, the lean muscle on her shoulder, the taut ridges of her tummy. My mouth continues exploring her chest as my hand explores her hip, down her thigh. If she doesn't fight me, my hand will soon slip back up, up the inside of her thigh.
She's so much heat and youth and strength. I will help quench her lust. But for some reason, perhaps the thrill of pursuit, I want to hold back from sex. Maybe another night, or maybe she just needs one good come to take the edge off. We'll see.
There's no fight, Jubilex, and no-one to watch as she slips her shorts off to give you full access. Ife is totally under your control right now, waiting for her chance to demonstrate her 'magic' with lips, tongue, fingers... and, of course, the bits that she's just exposed to your ministrations.
Ife continues to enjoy your attention. What do you do?
My mouth moves lower, down from her neck and collarbone to take a chocolate-drop nipple between my lips, teasing it with my tongue. My hand deftly probes between her legs, working on her button, dipping fingers inside. I want to bring her up to a frenzy, then back off. Then back again to pleasure, and back off again. Moments ago, she was tempting me. Now, I want her to beg me for release.
She doesn't beg, not yet, but you feel her body responding as she pushes herself against your hand, breathing hard. She is wet and fever-hot under your touch. Her hands reach for your belt, tugging even as they tremble.
With my left hand, I gently ease her hand away from my pants and mumble a breathy, "Uh uh uh, Better-than-Ife." I continue my ministrations, working her succulent body like a violin, dipping her ever closer to release, backing off, then returning again.
You pull the sweetest notes of passion out of this dark Stradivarius, giving and withholding, pressing and retreating, until she finally does beg for it. "Please, Jubilex... take me all the way there. Please?"
She's shaking now, begging with her body and not just her words.
I hear and obey. My left hand gently kneading her breasts, my mouth devouring hers, I push and probe deeply, thumb against her sensitive button. I welcome her release and don't let up again until she hits it.
Ife's strong thighs squeeze together, trapping your hand where it is as her moans become something closer to screams, muffled by your mouth on hers. Wetness pours out of her as she comes once, then again with hardly a moment between. For another thirty seconds, her body shivers like a race horse tickled by a fly, and then she goes limp, relaxed. When you pull back to look at her, her smile is content, languid. "Is it your turn now?"
I smile at the young beauty of her, shake my head, "Another time. I'm happy to bask in your afterglow, Better-Than-Ife." I kiss her head, holding her body, "We should meet again. Yes?"
Comments
Malin is engrossed in a pair of rather lovely earrings as you walk toward her, ruby-like crystals held in an intricate basket of golden wire. She squints in concentration and the red crystals change color to a deep emerald green. When you get close she gasps with a start. "Oh! You scared me."
"Those earrings look fetching on you, Malin," I offer as I peer at them. I reach out to touch one with the tip of my finger, "What causes them to change color?"
Malin grins. "They're a reactive polymer with an embedded superconducting mesh that responds to faint pulses of wirelessly delivered current to change the internal crystalline structure and polarity." She pauses. "I think. They also provide a petabyte of wirelessly accessible storage each."
The young dwarf gives you an impish look. "Uh... I mean, they're like magical mood rings that can keep songs you like on them."My eyes widen a bit, then glass over during the long version of what it is. "A petabyte? It could carry every song you've ever heard on them, at lossless." I grin, then ask, "What mood is emerald green?"
Malin chuckles delightedly, then punches you lightly in the arm. "They're not really mood rings. I was just translating into something I thought your brain would understand. But if they were... green would be happy. Good mission, we got Lindo back, Nizoni got to ride a pretty horse, I saw merrows, and we're in the most amazing store I've ever seen." She lowers her voice so as not to carry. "I don't really need any gadgets except for some external storage so I don't have to try and keep everything in my head, but they're still really fun. And the herbs smell nice."
"Who can't use more stylish storage, right?" I whisper back. "You have to get them, Malin. They suit you. Pretty and surprising." I avoid words like little and adorable. Because that's not what I mean, and it might ruin her good mood.
Malin's eyes twinkle as you compliment her. "Oh, I'm getting them. I have to have someplace to put all the surveillance footage of you Nizoni gave me." She waits a beat and then asks, "Did you get anything? I saw you go in the back."
"Footage of me doing what?" I ask. I'm not surprised Niz has it. I'm shocked she's offered to share it. It must be hilarious. "You cannot lie to your sensei, Malin." I put on a mock tone of teacher-to-lowly-student, but my heart's not in it.
"I might have picked up a little trinket. Nothing special." I add.
She squints a little at that last, but lets it go except for saying, "You'll need someone to help you set it up, whatever it is." With an honest-to-goodness wink, she goes on, "And, oh sensei, does intent matter? I was lying, but the intent was to poke fun." Generally full of herself in a new place with no immediate threat, she keeps going. "I've been told I have an excellent sense of humor. Of course, never face to face." She makes a 'pondering that' face.
That gets me shaking my head. Mocking my data skills? I should get her to train me on some of this drek. "Fun has been poked. You have an excellent sense of humor, Malin." I switch to a slight more serious tone to add, "I'm really thankful to have you on the team. You keep us light. It's good."
A smirk crawls on my face as I switch subjects, "You're going to be dancing at the Inferno tonight, right?"
Malin ducks her head with a smile. "You bet I'm going to dance. Who knows, a girl might even get lucky. What happens in Seattle stays in Seattle, right?"
The kid learns fast. I nod, "It certainly does. So, in case I have to play wingman, what kind of person would you most want to be lucky with?"
"Oh, you know. Dangerous but not mean. Ruggedly handsome. Older. Someone like this one guy I work with..."
"Be careful, Malin," I warn in a half-serious tone. "He sounds pretty hot. I may want to frag him." I chuckle, then let the flirting die as I break eye contact and look over at Lindo. "Tonight's going to be wiz. I want the whole team to have fun." I look back at her, "What do you think Niz would want to do? For fun? I've known her forever, and I never know... short of riding horses, it seems."
Malin thinks about that. "Hmm. I don't really know what she likes to do besides sneaking around and stealing things. Do you want me to ask?" Another second then she switches tracks slightly. "I think I'm looking forward to watching Lindo dance, now that he doesn't hurt so much."
Yeah, Niz is a mystery to everyone.
"Lindo can dance really well. It will be fun, for sure. Hey, how about Mat? Does he have rhythm?"
Malin gives an amused snort. "Yeah, he's got rhythm. Like a washing machine with the load off balance. thudTHUNK thudTHUNK thudTHUNK THUNK THUNK ... THUNK." She smiles. "He'll go, though, and have a good time. He doesn't mind not being a good dancer, just likes the people watching and the vibe."
"Good. I want this to be epic. Need anything else?" I'm ready to move on, check on the rest, wrap this up.
From there, it's pretty much a whirlwind of an afternoon. Clothes for everyone, including Lindo, who manages to find a nearly identical but less worn black suit. You score the cigars you were hoping for when you pass a storefront with AR signage that announces it to be "Smoketeria." Everyone's sated on shopping and looking at people and places by the time you make your way back to the hotel.
To be honest, it's still pretty early to be heading out to Dante's Inferno. You've got a few hours before you need to get spiffed up, shine your scalp, and meet the crew for your night on the town. Here's the question - do you try to set up your spiffy new connection to the world yourself?
Yes. I do. I know I can manage. I'm not an idiot, you know. I just prefer the classic tech. I'm sure this is an easy set-up...
As it turns out, it is easy. Your new WIDE (Wireless Interface Device, External), throws out a simple AR overlay that's immediately picked up by your dataport and conveyed to the new shades. Have you ever cleaned a window and then looked out to see details on the building opposite that you never noticed before? That gargoyle is holding a cluster of grapes for some reason, or there's an area of pixels out in the "holy drek has it always been that bright?" billboard for Stuffer Shack on the roof?
This is kind of like that. The AR resolution is more clear, the sound that comes in through the specs' earpieces is pristine. The whole wireless world seems faster, more maneuverable.
As it happens, within a minute or two of the WIDE integrating with your Personal Area Network, Jessi finally returns your ping. The icon glows softly to catch your attention.
I quickly reach for my pocket secretary, but remember I've got a new device, and I reach for the icon to flip it.
"Jess?"
Jessi appears in your HUD, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Hey, babe. How did your run go?" Her eyes are twinkling.
"It wasn't a cake walk, but it's done. Lindo's back." I answer with relief. I've been anxious for this call for a while now. I think I'll like the answer to this question. "How was the, ah, handover of your dress?"
Jessi's voice is almost a purr. "Oh, Jube, you're going to love the stories I tell." Stories, plural. "Do you want a sneak preview?"
"Yes, I do. We'll be in Seattle for a few days, so I'll need something to tide me over. Please."
Jessi's tongue flicks out to touch her lips as her eyes widen slightly. "Lili is... very talented, and not just on stage. Her skin is so soft, and oh, Jube, her tongue..." She swallows. "I think she may be an adept or something. I swear, she made me wet just with her eyes and tone of voice during dinner. She wasn't even saying anything sexy. Then, after dinner, we went back to her suite. We didn't have to talk about it, just somehow knew that we agreed. She undressed me like I was something precious, then slipped off her dress and shoes." Jess smiles, lost in the memory for a moment. "After the first time, she sang for me. For just me."
Her nostrils flare as she inhales. "Hurry home, babe. I want to tell you all the stories... and maybe act a few things out. You know, show and tell?"
This story is smoking hot. My eyes linger over Jessi's mouth as she tells her tale, her taste of what she experienced. "You are precious, Jess. I'm glad Lili recognized that. And I am down for some show and tell. Definitely." I smile in anticipation and savor the moment we're sharing before moving on.
"Everything else good? I'm working on a new run that should help with the store."
Jessi pauses, clearly considering what to say. "Everything's good. I have some information about what's going on with Mac's, but it can wait until you get back. No need for you to be distracted."
"You tell me about Lili, but you don't want me to be distracted?" I tease. She's right, nothing I can do from here, might as well let it simmer. "If you say it can wait, it can wait. But if I can help, Jess, you better loop me in." I wait for her to loop me in, but I doubt she will.
"I'll be home in a few days. Anything you'd like from Seattle?"
Jessi does not loop you in, but you can read her expression well. It can wait, but whatever it is, is going to be a pain in the butt. As to a memento of your trip... "Why don't you surprise me? Tell you what, I'll make it a challenge: no jewelry, no clothes, no perfume... nothing girly. And cigars don't count, since that would be for us."
I nod, "Challenge... accepted." I incline my head to her, and if she has any other chatting, we'll do that. I miss her more now than I have on any other trip. It's odd.
My mind's whirring with possible gifts. What ever could she want?
I'll send Malin a message:
I need to find an amazing gift for Jess. Put on your thinking cap. Nothing girly.From Malin:
No can do, bossman. She just made me promise not to intervene.It's about time to meet the team in the lobby. What do your Seattle party duds look like? Oh, and also... Do you carry any weapons?
This is the ensemble I put together for tonight (minus the hair):
Yes, I'm packing. I have my Ares Predator and that balisong that I recently picked up (off the deck of the ferry).
I message Malin back:
Curses! I will prevail despite your vile abandonment of your sensei in his hour of need.After about thirty seconds, the elevator dings again, and you see Malin and Nizoni emerge. Niz's hair is up in an elaborate doo, and Malin is a simply perfect good thing in a small package, in a sheath dress of shimmering silk shot through with conductive thread that sends off tiny sparks with every step.
There's a moment of silence as the ladies arrive. Anything to say, Jube?
"Guys, I thought we looked sharp." I say, looking at Niz and Malin, but "talking to" Mat and Lindo. "But these ladies are simply amazing." I look at Malin's dress, "Sleek and high tech. That dress suits you so perfectly, Malin." Then to Nizoni, "Niz, when you aren't dressed to be invisible, you are simply divine."
Nizoni gives you a predatory grin. "I'm always divine, Jubilex. I'm just channelling a different goddess sometimes..."
You set off for the few-block walk to Dante's Inferno. The line is long. Starts two blocks away, and there's the whole stairwell to the top floor between you and party-time. Got any ideas, or are you waiting patiently? Nuyen alone ain't gonna cut it here, but I'm sure you'll get in before two AM. Really. Well, mostly sure.
This would be annoying if I didn't have a team of Shadowrunners. "Niz, find us an infil. Malin, look for gaps in their systems. If we don't find an easy entrance, I want you to put our names on the list, if you know what I mean."
"Ummm... we're actually on the list. With a picture of you. 'Jubilex and guests.' Emma Fortune?"
My mouth opens slightly in surprise. "Emma's the girl from the ferry. I mentioned we were coming to Inferno. I guess... I made an impression?" I give Malin a little grin, glance over at Niz and then Lindo.
You've seen the look Lindo gives you before, wonder and maybe a touch of bewilderment. Malin and Mat both grin, but Nizoni simply shrugs like "Of course you made an impression. It's what you do."
You're allowed in to the stairway and climb up and up to the "first" floor, all the way at the top of the multilevel club. You can see through the glass walls the different crowds dancing, drinking, flirting... your AR presents various overlays as options, but really there's already plenty of color and light and action to look at.
When you enter the club proper, it's a riot of sound. There's a long backlit bar with every kind of legal intoxicant you can imagine, a dance floor packed with glittering examples of Seattle's club scene in all shapes, sizes, and metahuman variations, tables with and without sound baffling to allow for conversation. You're certain that dozens of business deals and even more negotiations of a more... intimate nature are going on around you.
Who's the first from your team to hit the dance floor, and what do you do first?
Matt hits the floor, pulling Malin along. And yes, Matt has very little rhythm, but he seems to be having some fun.
I'm heading to the bar with Lindo, and I think Niz? I wonder if she'll make it all the way before something distracts her. And yes, I'm keeping an eye out for Emma.
Nizoni breaks off halfway to the bar, distracted either by a high-level corp type's trophy wife or by the very shiny necklace glittering around her throat.
You and Lindo get to the bar, and he takes a look at the liquor on the shelves, holding up a hand to prevent you from ordering. "This round is on me, boss." He gets the bartender's attention, then says, "Rum, darling. Kirk and Sweeney 30 year-old. Neat. Two doubles, please. We're sipping." He gives the cute bartender a wink.
She raises an eyebrow. Apparently not much call on the top floor for the absolute premium spirits. She's human, and pretty tall, but still needs to pull over a step-stool to reach the bottle. After pouring two generous double shots, she gives Lindo a smile and says, "Enjoy."
I grin at Lindo, take my drink, then lean over to say in his ear over the din, "You old smoothie." I offer him a silent toast.
Sipping this dark golden liquid is like taking a vacation to the Bahamas and staying in an old colonial mansion. Lindo returns the toast gesture with a wink, then says, "Ma pere used to say that if a man wasn't looking he wasn't breathing." He takes another sip, then says, "I'm thinking maybe I'll aim to do a touch more than look tonight. The loa's oversight, not taking back what he lent me, I'm feeling a little frisky."
"Good luck then, brother." I take a blessed sip of this rum. Worthy of Papa Legba himself. Fringe benefit of Lindo's occupation, I guess. After that drink, I'm going to hit the floor, dance with Malin and Mat for a song or two, team bonding and all that fun. Soon enough, I'll take a stroll around the Inferno and look for my mysterious host Emma.
Dante's Inferno is set up in nine descending levels, the top seven each "celebrating" one of the seven deadly sins, and the bottom two (invitation-only, very posh) being Purgatory ("Where's there's a chance of getting into Heaven."), and then finally Hell ("Where you forget all about Heaven."). This top level is Envy, and the decoration reflects that: pictures of beautiful people and beautiful homes. Video of ugly men being pampered by gorgeous women. The overall color scheme is shades of green, of course.
The beat is loud, and it's easy to slip into a groove with Malin and even Mat. Nizoni slips in and out, occasionally joining you for a few steps before disappearing again.
A few minutes later, you hear people begin to clap rhythmically to the beat of the neo-salsa coming over the speakers, and look over to see Lindo expertly squiring a young lady with perfect skin the color of cafe au lait around the floor in complex steps that seem to involve a lot of contact and significant hip motion.
You're pretty sure Emma's not on this level. You'd certainly have noticed her by now, right?
If I've learned anything about this mysterious South African lady, it's that she makes an impression. She's not on Envy, it doesn't even suit her, so I'm not surprised. I'll excuse myself and work my way down a few levels and circle around Purgatory.
Next level down is Pride. Lots of mirrors, of course, and the lighting for the scattered booths and tables treats them like museum displays. Somewhere, a hidden set of spotlights occasionally picks out a couple on the dance floor or someone waiting for a drink at the bar. Did any of the team venture down from Envy with you, Jube?
Cute. Not Emma's thing, I guess. Interesting. She seems to have a spot of it. Malin tagged along. I think Niz will be around. I mean, really, it's Nizoni, she'll check out pride just for folks with too much nuyen and not enough sense, you know?
I'll play wingman for Malin here if she's interested, but I'm thinking finding a prideful guy isn't her cup of tea, so we'll skip down another level quickly unless something undeniable happens.
Malin isn't overly impressed with the talent on the Pride level, so after a quick look around for Emma, the two of you proceed to the next. Wrath.
Reds in all shades. Cages where (patrons, it seems like?) pairs and small groups pummel each other, Fight Club style. The music is all heavily distorted guitars and screaming, and there's little to distinguish the dancing from the fights. Apparently, this is also the tequila level: the bar's lined up with dozens of tequilas and mezcals in all sorts, including some of the stuff you know made you throw up when you first started drinking.
The music gets my blood pumping, and I watch some of the fighters with interest for a few moments. I look to Malin, ask wryly, "Want to fight for a great bottle of tequila? Or should we move on?"
Malin gives you something surprisingly like an evil grin. "What do you think, sensei? You think your padawan is ready to stand by your side in a quest for tequila?"
Oh! That's delicious. I incline my head in a bow, "Malin-san, we will not leave this level until we have achieved tequila."
It's sort of like "open mike night," but with fists instead of microphones. You sign up for you and Malin to join up in the fights. After a minute or two, a very announcer-y voice pipes up over the PA. "Next up, Cage 3. Jubilex and Malin facing off against Jimmy Mac and Deirdre O'Malley."
What do you do?
I don't know about Malin, but I've removed my shirt, socks and shoes by the time they call our names. My pants are too tight for much kicking, so I'll be boxing mostly. When they call our names, I'll head for the lights, assuming there's a starting point, and look for Jimmy...
Oh frag me. Jimmy Mac?!?
"Malin, you've got Deirdre. I'll deal with Jimmy Mac. And... you might want to pretend you don't actually know me right now."
Malin has kicked off her shoes, and her dress must have some high-tech way to adapt on the fly, because there are now slits to mid-thigh on each side, giving her freedom of motion. When you step up to the cage, Jimmy Mac sees you and his eyes widen. He gives you a slow, vicious grin. He's removed his shirt and shoes, as well, and stands there in a black wife beater looking quite a bit more buff than the last time you saw him. His partner Deirdre, shrugs off a fur coat to step into the cage wearing only her short skirt.
Here they are, by the way.
Anything to say before they close the cage and ring the bell?
I give Jimmy Mac a grin back, then look over to Deidre. Uhm, yeah. Didn't expect that either.
"Malin," I say in a tone that is low for her to hear. "Whatever you do. Don't get distracted by Deidre's very nice breasts." I look over at Malin, give her a wink. "I know it will be difficult. It's... pretty hard for me, too. But focus, and we'll get that fraggin tequila. I'm thinking body shots. And yes, I meant that as a double entendre."
An employee closes the cage and then rings an old fashioned brass bell as a crowd gathers to watch and Jimmy growls something that might be "...end you.". You're definitely the fastest one in the cage, so why don't you tell me what you do, and we'll go from there?
I'm putting on a show here, right? I'll walk up to Jimmy, fists down, let him come at me first. I'll let him throw a big ugly haymaker, then I'll dance out of the way.
Jimmy may have been working out, but he's still not much of a fighter. He probably relies more on intimidation based on his connections and reputation for craziness that he does anything like skill.
Fight
(Rolled: 4dF+2. Total: 4. Rolls: 0, +, +, 0)
Defending with Fight:
(Rolled: 4df+5. Total: 3. Rolls: -, -, -, +)
His strength is impressive, but I'm a Street Samurai, I'm trained to use it against him. I'm spending a FP to use my Sammy Aspect to boost that to a 5.
Jimmy honestly looks puzzled when his punch doesn't connect. He cracks his neck and puts up a sloppy street-boxer's guard. His grin is certainly gone, though.
Deirdre, on the other hand, is fast. She gets to Malin with a high kick just as Malin fully settles into her ready position. Your technomancer rolls out of the way, but she's going to really have to put on her game face to get through this without help. She can do it, given your training, but it's not a certain thing.
Let's see an attack here, Jube. Describe, then roll in a separate post.
A boxer's guard? Well, I'll put up my dukes, too. But I'm faster, so I'll throw a couple jabs at his head, enough to make him flinch and cover up. Then, right cross, hard into his belly. I want to make him cough and have trouble breathing. If I can put him down fast enough, I can back Malin up.
Fight to Overcome:
(Rolled: 4df+5. Total: 4. Rolls: +, -, -, 0)
Athletics, Fight, both the same for good ol' Jimmy.
(Rolled: 4dF+2. Total: 0. Rolls: -, 0, 0, -)
Well, Jimmy is CERTAINLY out of the fight. Instead of the traditional Boost for beating by three shifts, I'll give you a choice. Either you do this in a way that doesn't humiliate Jimmy even further and leave him swearing a vendetta (and describe that), or you do this and describe how you step in to prevent Malin from getting hurt. Not desperately hurt, but probably badly enough to put a damper on her night.
I wouldn't mind avoiding a vendetta, but I'm not letting this ruin Malin's night. Sure, it might teach her some kind of lesson... whatever that might be. I'll make sure to back Malin up, pissed-off Jimmy be damned.
I'm just curious, Jubilex. When's the last time you were in a serious fight with a topless woman? Ever?
Truth be told, this is a first. I'm breaking my naked woman fighter cherry right here. In public.
You get in place to back Malin up, and Deirdre (of course... seems reasonable) evaluates you as the more significant threat. She's definitely wired, some way or another, because she zips past Malin toward you. (Apparently, tequila's a big thing in her world, too...) Her foot actually launches her off Jimmy's prone form to make it a leap. Her teeth are bared in a grimace that shows a mouthful of sharpened teeth.
Tell me, Jube. You made the roll, and the choice to protect Malin. How do you take Deirdre down, and do you manage to get her to agree to you taking a body shot of tequila off her after?
The best way to deal with someone as fast as Deidre is to not go head-to-head. I let her slip by me on her right cross, then slipped into a hold, on arm around her throat, the other to the back of her head. She stomped my foot something fierce, and head-butted me, but I said low in her ear, "I'll share the tequila with you, Deidre. Don't make me regret it, alright?"
Turned out, she listened to reason. I didn't have to choke her out. She simply said "Mate", and they called it.
Jimmy's growling as he recovers, and glaring at both you and Deirdre, but it takes him a minute to shake off the beating. He's not going to cause you any trouble tonight. Deirdre, however, shrugs back on her fur coat as she shrugs off the hoots of the crowd. As the cage opens, this daughter or niece of one of Seattle's great crime families (you don't keep up on ALL the players, do you?) simply waves at the bartender, who plunks down a bottle of tequila so expensive that you don't recognize the name. Malin follows behind, disgruntled at having been rescued, but not to the point that she's gonna be stomping around.
So... body shots?
There are a few ways to do body shots with a lady. Deidre isn't wearing the right clothing for her to have cleavage, so I pull her up onto the bar, ask her to lie on her back, and push her fur coat off to the sides, and pull it up away from her nice, tight tummy.
I grab a lime wedge, and place it in her mouth, then take that amazing drink of tequila and some salt. I look to the crowd, then lean over Deidre, hover over the lime like I'm about to kiss her. Instead, I dive down to nuzzle and lick her neck. Once I've got her neck wet, I pour a thin line of salt. I can hear the crowd hooting and yelling her name. Some of them have even stopped fighting.
Standing up to hold the drink aloft, I slowly pour a healthy dose onto her belly, aiming for her belly-button. I see goose bumps rise up on her pale skin, and she flinches a little, which is amusingly adorable from such a badass. With an eager mouth, I lean over to drink from her body, licking all the delicious tequila from her sweaty skin. Then I'm up to lick the salt from her neck, and that's nearly as good.
The final moment is when I come up to her mouth. Of course I have to get that lime, but if she resists, I'll linger. This is all in good fun.
Malin watches with interest as you go through the ritual with Deirdre. For her part, the mob princess seems to enjoy the way you've chosen to collect your winnings, tremors running through her lean muscles at each stage. When you do finally take the lime from her lips and bite it, she reaches with her left hand to take the spent wedge from your mouth and snakes her right around your neck to pull you in for a deep, long kiss.
After, she whispers in your ear. "Better go, hot stuff, before Jimmy decides he has to do something really stupid. He's an ass, but there's no need for him to get hurt."
After she gets to her feet, Deirdre turns to Malin. "You take care of yourself pretty well in a fight. How are you in the jungle?" She indicates the room with her head. "I could use some company to take the edge off all the testosterone and adrenaline floating around here."
I nod to Deidre. She nipped at my tongue at the end, that girl's dangerous. When she suggests I head out, I give Malin a nod like "go ahead, have fun with fur-coat-lady". If she wants to go with Deidre, I'm cool with it.
Honestly, she'd probably be a third wheel once I find Emma. Which is what I plan to do as soon as I throw my shirt back on. I'll avoid Jimmy Mac and head down to the next level.
Malin picks up the tequila Deirdre has poured for her and gives you an adventurous grin. "I'm good. If Deirdre here gets tired of me, I'm sure I can find someone to entertain me."
Next level down is Gluttony. Everywhere huge tables are covered with food in ludicrous quantity. Roasts and loaves of bread and platters like something out of a George R.R. Martin novel. Grapes hanging down from suspended trellises. Deserts: mousses and cakes and pies. People drinking from gigantic glasses and mugs. Low mirrored tables with bowls of pills and piles of powder. This doesn't seem much like Emma's style, so I'm guessing you move on.
Greed. Oh, Greed. Decorated in gold and Swarovski crystals, with gemstones sparkling everywhere. The bar is lucite with old currency and coinage embedded in it, and the customers on this level are dressed to the tens, with jewelry and watches and conspicuous gadgetry aplenty. Nizoni will certainly find this level, and likely have good hunting. Champagne and ancient cognac and single-malt Scotch flow freely, and the food is caviar and kobe beef and oysters from the most remote and pristine bays.
Sloth is set up like no club space you've ever seen. Sofas and divans and reclining chairs are scattered around, canopied like antique beds and with clubgoers draped languorously in and on the furniture. The air is perfumed with the scent of opium and the bar is lined with bottle after green bottle of absinthe, while the bartenders make hot toddies and warm milk.
You don't see Emma, at least immediately, but it's all of about thirty seconds before a striking black woman, dressed in a light shrug, skintight black shorts, and four inch heels that make her just a bit taller than you, grabs you by the belt and onto the dance floor. She immediately moves in close to you and starts the sort of dancing that is much more like clothed sex than any sort of choreography.
What do you do?
Deidre got me warmed up, so this is not at all unwelcome. No Emma, but I know she's here. This feels... planned?
Oh, I'm dancing with her.
I'm trying to get a read off this. Am I someone she picked out? Was she looking for me? My hand's on her hip, we're grinding together. I seek out her lips with my own. If she kisses me or turns away, I say, "Hi. I'm Jubilex."
Why don't you give me a Rapport role here, if you want. Discovering or creating an Aspect (which is how I'm taking "get a read on this") is a Create an Advantage action. She's not actively opposing, so we'll call that a static difficulty of +2.
Rappor-ination, also using my Stunt of Always has an Angle, since I'm after Emma, not Miss Mysterious.
(Rolled: 4df+6. Total: 8. Rolls: +, 0, 0, +)
Also, something clicks... your brain catches some hint of a hint—a slight musicality in her voice and the configuration of her facial paint—and your new interface device lets you check faster than ever before, in a corpsec database you're not supposed to still have access to. Not as quick as Malin, but quick. That face paint she's wearing? It's an indicator of a small tribe within the Neligambba ethnic group from what used to be Senegal and Gambia. A small tribe that trains their daughters as assassins. If she's wearing the paint, though, she's not on duty. So there's that.
Whatever the circumstances, it's clear she's Up All Night to Get Lucky.
That was a great roll. I'll give you three free Invokes (total) on the two Aspects we've defined. Do with that what you will.
I grin back at her, "I have proper motivation to be substantial." I turn slightly away from her grasp, not offended, merely teasing, and pull her into a bit of a tango. I'm curious if she knows the steps. I'm rather sure a Neligambba girl can pick them up if needed. I'd like to keep her attention, and keep her interested, but deny her immediate gratification.
Your mystery woman moves smoothly into the steps of the tango you pull her into, following your hips, your shoulders, without ever pulling her eyes away from yours. She's good, Jube. Really good. Little touches along your most... responsive bits; whispered "words" that pass your new interface's filters as gibberish but are instantly recognized by the sub-brain in your groin; the promise of her lithe body's contact against yours.
Knowing she's a pro in whatever way gives you some sense of what's going on. A sarariman? Lost. Mat or Lindo? Probably lost. Did I say she's good? And she's not even on the job at the moment, as far as you can tell. Just hungry and determined.
Mystery Woman is about to roll Rapport as an Attack (we've rolled a bunch of things together, so that seems fair), and you can totes Defend with Will.
(Rolled: 4dF+4. Total: 3. Rolls: -, -, 0, +)
I'm tempted, but I enjoy her pursuit of this, her dogged determination, and I'm going to dance with her for a little while. Until she asks.
Will Defense:
(Rolled: 4df+3. Total: 5. Rolls: +, -, +, +)
Continuing with her small touches of seduction and arousal, she leans in to speak softly in your ear as you dance, letting the music of her barely-there accent tickle you along with her breath. "In the next village from where I was born, there was a woman called Ife. She was so beautiful, and along with it she had a gift, a magic. She said that one of the gods had come to her in the night and taught her magic words. She could make any man hard with two syllables and give him the best orgasm of his life with another two. All without even touching him." She gives herself to the music and the movement for a few moments before continuing. "I always thought that was a wasted gift. I like to be touching a man when I make him come. And how did she get hers, I wonder? Did she talk to herself?" She takes your hand and starts to pull you off the dance floor toward one of the shadowed booths along the far wall.
"I like a hand-on experience myself, " I agree as she pulls at me. I resist leaving the dance floor, though. Still smiling, "You are far too intriguing to be a nameless beauty, and I know you're not intending to kill me. I ask again, what is yout name?" Then I add a lifeline, "Or... what should I call you when you use your skills on me?"
Tugging you into the curtained booth—which is more a wide and deep sofa with a narrow shelf for drinks and small plates than a traditional "booth"—she settles in with a smoldering grin. "Why don't you just call me 'Ife.'" She looks at the curtain. "Curtain open or closed, you think? I don't mind an audience if you don't."
I pull the curtain closed after I enter, "I don't want your tricks to get out, Better-than-Ife." I join her on the sofa, nudging her onto her back as my hands move to her shurg, "Or mine, for that matter." My lips close on hers, then move downwards, devouring her mocha flesh. I'm curious if she'll let me take the lead.
For now at least, Ife seems content to let you explore. She is exquisitely toned, Jube, with the muscling of a long-distance runner combined with that of someone extensively trained in jeet kun do or something else fast and deadly. When your lips move to her neck, she gives a low moan and reaches up to open her little sweater for better access.
I take great pleasure in Better-than-Ife's body, the lean muscle on her shoulder, the taut ridges of her tummy. My mouth continues exploring her chest as my hand explores her hip, down her thigh. If she doesn't fight me, my hand will soon slip back up, up the inside of her thigh.
She's so much heat and youth and strength. I will help quench her lust. But for some reason, perhaps the thrill of pursuit, I want to hold back from sex. Maybe another night, or maybe she just needs one good come to take the edge off. We'll see.
There's no fight, Jubilex, and no-one to watch as she slips her shorts off to give you full access. Ife is totally under your control right now, waiting for her chance to demonstrate her 'magic' with lips, tongue, fingers... and, of course, the bits that she's just exposed to your ministrations.
Ife continues to enjoy your attention. What do you do?
My mouth moves lower, down from her neck and collarbone to take a chocolate-drop nipple between my lips, teasing it with my tongue. My hand deftly probes between her legs, working on her button, dipping fingers inside. I want to bring her up to a frenzy, then back off. Then back again to pleasure, and back off again. Moments ago, she was tempting me. Now, I want her to beg me for release.
She doesn't beg, not yet, but you feel her body responding as she pushes herself against your hand, breathing hard. She is wet and fever-hot under your touch. Her hands reach for your belt, tugging even as they tremble.
What do you do?
With my left hand, I gently ease her hand away from my pants and mumble a breathy, "Uh uh uh, Better-than-Ife." I continue my ministrations, working her succulent body like a violin, dipping her ever closer to release, backing off, then returning again.
You pull the sweetest notes of passion out of this dark Stradivarius, giving and withholding, pressing and retreating, until she finally does beg for it. "Please, Jubilex... take me all the way there. Please?"
She's shaking now, begging with her body and not just her words.
What do you do?
I hear and obey. My left hand gently kneading her breasts, my mouth devouring hers, I push and probe deeply, thumb against her sensitive button. I welcome her release and don't let up again until she hits it.
Ife's strong thighs squeeze together, trapping your hand where it is as her moans become something closer to screams, muffled by your mouth on hers. Wetness pours out of her as she comes once, then again with hardly a moment between. For another thirty seconds, her body shivers like a race horse tickled by a fly, and then she goes limp, relaxed. When you pull back to look at her, her smile is content, languid. "Is it your turn now?"
I smile at the young beauty of her, shake my head, "Another time. I'm happy to bask in your afterglow, Better-Than-Ife." I kiss her head, holding her body, "We should meet again. Yes?"