shipwreck_light: Portrait of Nene smirking by DoroDraws. (Nene)
Shipwreck Light ([personal profile] shipwreck_light) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2013-08-11 11:45 am

Ember #19

Author: SWL
Story: Jealous of Roses, Arc 0
Index: Click Here.
Colors: Ember #19- Red
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream Prompt Found Here).
Word Count: 1,080
Summary: Duclos's second evening with her brand new courtier Nene.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None today.
The following are always welcome: comments, constructive criticism, collaboration inquiries, cake.

Less than two days ago, Nene was Nina.

A little more than a day past, Alexandra Duclos had Nina declared dead.

Which isn't something she's done for any of her other courtiers up to this point, but it's always been an option. The one's before, they've been no ones and nomads and people with body baggage, either of their own or other people's.

Now, Duclos has taken over a table in Cabaret Crimson. And she's watching Nene instead of the dancing girls.

She wouldn't have offered just anybody a chance to die. If it's someone she assassinates, if it's someone she makes hers. Being killed by her is a privilege. She didn't know Nina and she didn't care to. But, Nina had...

Well, she burned back the dry brush that was Nina and here is this creature of cinders beside her. In the candlelight, her hair sparks with her breathing. She's got her legs crossed out from under the table and the hinges on her boots gleam as she bounces along the drumbeat.

That's the other thing. The most entertaining in the whole club.

Nene has cakey, short, freckle-spattered and frankly somewhat ugly legs. But, Nene still ordered short skirts and oh, a pair of Violent Violet boots. It took her all afternoon trying pairs on to find one that did slam into her crotch or tighten up on her thick knees.

Of course she wore them out. They're covered in rivets and metal hinges to hold the laces over the flickering slashes that show off the colored leather underneath, blue and red and purple. She has a black mini on with them and a sleeveless rhinestone top. A pair of what Duclos would charitably call hooker panties and which show off her red muff when she drapes over her chair just right.

Nene still looks good enough to eat. And she's actually into whatever this fire mountain drumbeat could be called. She watches like someone who appreciates the conceits of Cabaret Crimson.

The idea being this place works like gentleman's clubs of old. There's probably less prurient on display here than any other strip club in the city, but the city's found more than one excuse to shut it down over the years. As if Duclos needed any other reason to stop in. There are cancan dancers, topless and wheeling hulas, the artful misplacing of kimono and of course 1940's USO style cheesecake shows.

Tonight's an assortment of beauties in see-through scarlet gowns darting through the ring of tables, scarves shaking off and little gems on their wrists drawn so enticing over each other. It's not as charming retro as it could be, and hell, management's going to get in trouble for too much touching between performers if anyone in public morals finds out. But it's charming.

Or so thinks Duclos. One of only a handful of women in the audience. Mostly mistresses. Then her and Teela and Tian and Nene.

She leans over their cocktails. "So, which one do you like best?" she asks conversational against the hot sun chimes starting up in the music.

Nene rubs her chin.

One of the dancers, her eyes snap into focus over these women talking away over her performance. For an instant, her smile is real instead of an artful thing meant to compliment that beckoning sway of her hips.

Nene sees it and sniggers into her Manhattan. The cherry gin drips down her chin and she has to grab her napkin. Some of it catches in her hair, the streak behind touching dark through the rest. "Yer gonna make me pick?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm ordering you to pick."

"OK, OK. Can we go tit for tit?" Which, when she asks that, Nene tugs on the neck of her tip, flashing the fact she doesn't have a bra.

There's an audible snort at the table beside them. It might be unrelated, but certain redheads in her immediate present blow a kiss that way.

So, Duclos shrugs over her own drink and says, "I'm feeling generous tonight."

And why not? Those red nothings over those beautiful bodies out there as one by one the glints fall away like old wings so that only the figures, the fireside sway remains. How could she not?

"I'll even let you go first."

"Why didntja getta pair too?" asks Nina. Before Duclos has even finished. And there, rapping on the leather over her thighs. "You been starin' at mine all night."

Duclos sits back. Casts a wink to the blond with the belly button ring sashaying on by and say, "I already have a pair. And personally, I think you're half mad for wearing yours out in this heat."

"What? They got air conditionin' in here. Not like I'm dressed up all harsh mistress."

"I bet you'd do it anyway."

"Damn straight."

"Now, as for my question..." If she wanted to put money up even to herself, she sees Nene taking the one who almost truly smiled at her as the one she wants most of all.

Instead: "All of 'em. They're all my favorite," she says.

To some people- some lords even -that's worth a laugh. A comeback with barbs at least. Duclos though, she glances to Tian and Teela. The three of them nod to one another.

Nene's interest lingers, but twists off into the red silk as that too begins to tangle away and soon there are only girls twisting underneath their scarves and one another's steps.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Told you I was pan," says Nene. Her next sip goes down with a quick slurp. "Y'know what? Screw that. Who cares? Who wouldn't enjoy this? Jerkasses, that's who."

It's an hour before the cards to request personal service come around, brought by waitresses in lace teddies. Duclos sends hers off with an absent scribble.

Management offers her the sweeping, classically-built brunette with dark eyes and impossibly long legs. Duclos being really quote familiar with that particular girl. But, she tells her without a hint of hesitation, "Oh, it's not for me tonight."

And tugs the blond over to the rather drunken Nene on the other side of the table.

Who can only manage to say, "Whoa."

She grins from ear to ear as things go to languid in brandy light before them. As the hooks come undone and gathers flutter away. As the girl skims her red, red hair where the liquor fell not too long ago.

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