Hotaru
The manner and quality of dress don’t bother Hotaru in the least. She’d worn much the same, and worse, in her younger years. Only being cutthroat and impeccably good at bending people around her fingers had changed that. It affords her clarity now as an adult, a vision that helps her see the diamond in the rough the younger woman is.
The flush is a perfect watercolor glaze on a priceless painting, ruined only by the ma’am that slips from Cordelia’s mouth. Ru conceals the displeased twist that tries to come to her lips. It’s the rules of the establishment, but ‘mistress’ would sound far prettier from that mouth than a title most men use to make her feel old and out of her league. As if.
If she had any reservations about breaking her own rule tonight, Cordelia’s starstruck, unblinking gaze is enough to wipe it away. She’s nervous - endearingly so - but it tempers the sharklike smirk Hotaru would normally employ after such a revealing slip. Her perfectly manicured nails tap the table in a slow cadence, considering. Then she reaches into her small clutch purse and retrieves her business card and her specialty fountain pen. On the back she writes her room number in perfect, flourishing cursive. Then she calmly caps her pen, replaces it, and turns to Cordelia. She tucks it into the apron pocket, careful not to actually touch the girl. There are limits, after all, and Ru lifts her eyes to meet Cordelia’s as she then pulls out her normal tip with intent. “Here’s the deal, dearest. My room number is on that card. I’m in the penthouse above; alone, of course. No surprises.” She’s not looking for a unicorn or someone to share with a lover. “You will not tell me now what your answer is. Your tip is the same, with a little extra as an apology if you’d prefer we forget this. If you show up tonight, you will be mine for the night. Nothing more, nothing less.” Smoothly looping her purse strap over her shoulder, Ru stands, her short stature still imposing even without the added height of her heels. Her eyes don’t waver from Cordelia’s. “If you decide to decline, you may find a different server to tend to me tomorrow night. There will be no repercussions, and no allusions to my offer.” Gathering her notepad next, the only times she breaks eye contact with Cordelia, Ru slides it into her work bag and then collects that as well. Turns to Cordelia, and lets her lips tilt into an invitingly coy expression. The offer is already made so what’s the harm? “Have a good night, Cordelia.” Howeber she chooses. And with that, Ru strides out as she has each night before, with a graceful wave of her fingers towards the hostess that seats her each night who bids her goodnight and a staunch focus that refuses to allow her to look away as she enters the elevator, and watches Cordelia from afar until the doors close to whisk her away to the top floor.
The flush is a perfect watercolor glaze on a priceless painting, ruined only by the ma’am that slips from Cordelia’s mouth. Ru conceals the displeased twist that tries to come to her lips. It’s the rules of the establishment, but ‘mistress’ would sound far prettier from that mouth than a title most men use to make her feel old and out of her league. As if.
If she had any reservations about breaking her own rule tonight, Cordelia’s starstruck, unblinking gaze is enough to wipe it away. She’s nervous - endearingly so - but it tempers the sharklike smirk Hotaru would normally employ after such a revealing slip. Her perfectly manicured nails tap the table in a slow cadence, considering. Then she reaches into her small clutch purse and retrieves her business card and her specialty fountain pen. On the back she writes her room number in perfect, flourishing cursive. Then she calmly caps her pen, replaces it, and turns to Cordelia. She tucks it into the apron pocket, careful not to actually touch the girl. There are limits, after all, and Ru lifts her eyes to meet Cordelia’s as she then pulls out her normal tip with intent. “Here’s the deal, dearest. My room number is on that card. I’m in the penthouse above; alone, of course. No surprises.” She’s not looking for a unicorn or someone to share with a lover. “You will not tell me now what your answer is. Your tip is the same, with a little extra as an apology if you’d prefer we forget this. If you show up tonight, you will be mine for the night. Nothing more, nothing less.” Smoothly looping her purse strap over her shoulder, Ru stands, her short stature still imposing even without the added height of her heels. Her eyes don’t waver from Cordelia’s. “If you decide to decline, you may find a different server to tend to me tomorrow night. There will be no repercussions, and no allusions to my offer.” Gathering her notepad next, the only times she breaks eye contact with Cordelia, Ru slides it into her work bag and then collects that as well. Turns to Cordelia, and lets her lips tilt into an invitingly coy expression. The offer is already made so what’s the harm? “Have a good night, Cordelia.” Howeber she chooses. And with that, Ru strides out as she has each night before, with a graceful wave of her fingers towards the hostess that seats her each night who bids her goodnight and a staunch focus that refuses to allow her to look away as she enters the elevator, and watches Cordelia from afar until the doors close to whisk her away to the top floor.
Baby it's primal, I want you on all fours
before I let you walk, gotta show me how you crawl
before I let you walk, gotta show me how you crawl
