Date: May 30, 2010
The sound of her heels clicking on the hard floor is drowned out by the chest vibrating beat of the music, while dancer get up close and personal with a shiny metal poles. Anechka Solonik, known as Anastasia to the performers and patrons of Therapy, works her way through the tables, avoiding deftly a grab by one patron - he had not been very giving tonight… call it punishment.
Her outfit looks made for something more like an S&M club, with it's shiny black leather, sleeveless trenchcoat, buttoned far enough to show off her assets and the hint of red underneath, coupled with black shorty shorts and leg snugging black boots, she looked not only seductive but deadly at well, as the coat flares out behind her.
Her destination is a roped off portion of the strip club, reserved for her boss. As she approached, one of the bouncers quickly moves to unclip the fancy velvet rope, so that she can pass without even slowing her stride.
Red painted lips, curl into a smile for Ivory Wynn as she closes the distance between them. A sharp glance to one of the stripper lounging with him, has her scrambling and allows Anya sliding into the spot vacated. Black leather creak as she crosses her legs. "You know, Mr Wynn…" Her Russian accent still thick after this years in the states, purrs as she addressed her employer. "…I must say I am glad that you called when Candy called in sick."
Fingers dip into the V-neck of the coat and pulled out a neatly folded clip of money. "Your cut." She offers it between two fingers, with a slightly hooded look, small smile playing on her lips.
Former Senator Ivory Wynn is doing the best that he can. Having been dead for some months, returned back to life and then finding himself as the owner of a strip club in New York would be culture shock to the man with the master plan… if he wasn't completely in love with the female gender. He's hardly paying attention to much of anything at the moment.
Relaxed in the Owner's Box, the velvet roped section that's totally off limits, is Ivory. His arms are tossed around a couple of strippers. One of which is holding his drink, allowing Ivory to get a sip whenever he wants; while the other one has been replaced by Anastasia, all of a sudden. Ivory's eyebrow is raised… but everything evens out the moment he sees the huge wad of cash.
"You do know how to speak my language, Russkie." Ivory's lips curl up into a grin, as he reaches out to grab the money clip and tosses it down onto the table. "I have to look out for my girls, don't you know? When you make money, I make money. So it's a win-win for Wynn."
"That is because we speak the same language." Her chin jerking towards the cash, there is that knowing smile there on those glossy red lips. The green rectangles of paper part of the reason Anastasia took up stripping, maiming and killing pays well, but jobs are few and far between. In the end she still has bills to pay. "It is a universal one." Settling back, she studies the man, a rather calculating look. "Is there anything else you need of me, my liege." There is a teasing quality in the title she gives him.
"Another set?" Anya asks, her head tilting to the side towards where one woman swings around a pole to the cat calls of the crowd. "Any… private showings?" Brows lift as she asks that, hand lifting to trail a finger tip along his jawline. "Or am I free to go find some… entertainment?"
Ivory has no qualms about anything going down right now that doesn't involve him. Well, actually, he does. Mainly because he's always the one that's wanting all of the attention. It is, after all, why he's the leader of Therapy, to be perfectly honest. More women, more attention.
"Spending some time with your Lord and Savior should be top priority on your list, shouldn't it?" Ivory actually has no idea about any possible private showings going on. "I mean, I'd be willing to sacrifice some of my attention if you wanted to get some practice in." That's right, he's definitely making sure the decision remains in her lap. Even though he's plotting to have her on his.
His offer has lashes, thick with mascara, dipping down in a thoughtful look. A fingernail taps lightly against her lips, the nail the same color, as Anya considers. "You are a hard man to deny, Mr. Wynn." She leans towards him, her voice dropping lower, both shaped brows lifting, "And coming from me, that is a compliment. There are no other men that I can say that about.
"Though… as the man in charge…" Her fingers move to work at a few snaps of her shiny stage coat, revealing more of the red sequenced number hidden beneath, that makes up the main attraction when she's up on the stage. "That you would prefer to sample to merchandise to make sure it is up to standard for your establishment?"
The name of the game is stay in control. And that's exactly what Ivory is doing at this particular moment. While he's paying some attention to Anya, there are still many other women on different stages that he can't help but glance at. This comes to a bit of a halt when he hears buttons snapping and his attention is drawn right back to the stripper next to him.
"You make a valid point. Perhaps I should take a closer look at what my customers are paying for. See if there are any changes I need to make." He leans over a bit, awaiting the straw of the random stripper on his other side holding his drink. Time for another little sip of whatever delicious drink he's sipping on.
Legs uncross allowing Anastasia to rise to her feet, turning on the ball of her foot to face her boss. How a man can make her want to please him… she isn't certain, but… the coat coat slides off her shoulders to pool on the floor at her feet heavily, followed by the rip away shorts, leaving her only in the glittery very skimpy red costume and black heeled boots.
"I doubt you will find anything that needs changing." Hands perch on her hips, her chin tilting up in an act of defiance…. well until Anya slides into the owner's lap, like a good employee. No reports of sexual harassment in this workplace! "Tell me I'm wrong." She challenges him, brows lifting as if daring him to say so.
Apparently, Ivory takes these silent challenges somewhat seriously. He can't really do much of anything about the fact that he now has a lapfull of Anya, but he's not about to be worried about that being a bad thing, now is he? Of course not. Because she's too damn fine.
"Careful. You're gonna' make me wanna' make changes just because I can." His confidence sounds like its rock solid. He knows he could tell her anything and she'd do it. Mostly. Because of his little trump card, that is. "I mean, you haven't been on my lap five minutes yet and already I can tell you need more lip gloss." Challenge is accepted with a victorious grin.
Meanwhile, the nameless stripper can tell when she's being replaced and is reaching out to shove Ivory's drink into Anya's hand, so that she may go off and make Ivory some more money.
"MmmHmm," Anya doesn't sounds completely convinced, but she does placate the man, by simply offering a… "I'll keep that in mind." When the drink is thrust at her, the Russian stripper wraps a hand around out, wiggling fingers at the other stripper in farewell, her smile smug. Of course, most of the strippers have learned not to mess with the blonde rather quickly.
His drink in hand, an arm drapes across his shoulders for balance, legs crossing again as Anya becomes an ornament for the club owner. There are probably jealous glances from the patrons even, but then the fact he gets so much attention from any of them would make another man jealous. "So… Anything else needing improvement, Mr. Wynn?" It's asked as she settles a little more comfortable against him, his beverage held at ready.
Considering the fact that he's got himself a lap full of hot babe right now, Ivory can hardly concentrate on what's happening in his club. Luckily, security has that under control, which usually means a good thing. Somebody has to look over the club while Ivory looks over the women. That is, after all, his priority in life. Women.
After an elongated sip of his drink, Ivory's hand manages to find itself attached to one of those legs that are crossed. He can't help it. Her fine body is just right there! Waiting to be Ivory'd! With that done, he licks his lips, leaning forward a bit and bringing his lips ever so close to the woman's ear. His voice has changed, tweaked into a bit more rhythmic pattern. A soft, leading whisper. "I'm going to need to see the entire package, love." Oooooh. He pauses there, letting his breath just swirl around the woman's ear. "My office. Five minutes."
That's an order.
A breathy sigh escapes the Russian woman, her head tipping against his briefly, eyes fluttering shut as that euphoric feeling hits her. Anya doesn't exactly understand what love is… but she knows lust, it is after all her trade. Head turning, her wavy blonde lengths sliding over her shoulder, there is a brush of lips along his jaw.
"As you command."
There is an edge of amusement as she says those word against his much darker skin, but it is followed by a press of lips. Then she's suddenly sliding off his lap with grace, leaving a red mark where the jawline swoops up towards the ear. Crouching, she retrieves the rest of her things, before turning just enough to give him a wicked smile, Anya says, "I shall be waiting for you."
That said, she gives him full view of her back and the lack of cloth there as she saunters away, with a distinct sway of hips, the bodyguard moving to let her through again.