Don't I Know You from Somewhere...? (T-M, language, adult content,etc; Private)

Ezra clicked his tongue, eyebrow cocking in blatant curiosity. He nodded, scanning the room for a better seat as patrons began filing in. "I'll be sure to jot those rules down on my napkin," he said, the smirk on his lips becoming too familiar. Grabbing his whiskey, he raised the glass appreciatively. "I'll see you on stage, then."

"After karaoke, yes," she said, smiling at him, a coy, cocky edge to her features that seemed only to increase as the lights dimmed in favor of the stage's spotlight. Both screens turned on on either side of the stage, as well as the in-floor monitor, all for lyrics. Behind the bar, one of her employees rolled her eyes, knowing that there was a one in seven chance of today being the day that she would, as per weekly, take to the stage for song as well as dance.

He waved a hand dismissively as Rose excused herself, sauntering away to tend to her duties as he slid into a vacant seat. Karaoke was hardly of interest, but piqued curiosity would keep him in his seat, anxious to see the enigmatic woman at work.

"If she has the tab,we'll just consider this your tip," Ezra said, sliding a $20 bill to the bartender as she handed him a fresh glass of whiskey. He managed to slip back into his seat just as the free lights focused themselves on the stage.

The woman shot him a grin, nodding in thanks as she pocketed the cash. Even still, she set about marking down each drink, knowing that it would make the end of the night and cashouts far easier than if she waited to do so. Another round of fries came out, accompanied by a burger, and she slid the plate in front of him --- an error in the system that need not go to waste while there was a house tab in use.

Meanwhile, it was becoming increasingly apparent just how serious Rose kept her business. Though she would not outright turn anyone down, volunteer singers were given options such as receiving feedback and having their sessions recorded. Often times, people would turn down one or the other, but with those that seemed to have a particular knack, Rose would always offer up a business card, a possible suggestion or gateway into a future once dreamed that could quickly turn to reality. Some, of course, received a very different outcome, though she remained all smiles even as the essential "judges" critiqued and scored according to ability, rather than kindness or any sort of origin story. Serious and mature as she was, one could not honestly try to conclude that Rosaline was without a heart.

Four forty-three rolled around with a strange mixture of both talent and a lack there of, occurrences to be expected with events such as these, but everyone, by this hour, was a regular or a repeat. Rose, hair now flowing freely down her shoulders and back like a mane of fire, returned to the bar in a unique cross between a pea- and trench coat, eyes all shine, face all charisma and charm. "You've stuck around for quite some time, Phantom."

The voice acted as a jump of adrenaline, rousing Ezra from his half-finished burger and a pile of fries that he had picked through for those with the most chili on them. Heeding Rose's advice, he had kept to pacing the intake of whiskey and while he was far from drunk, he could feel the undeniable heat flooding his face. This is on account of the whiskey, isn't it?

"I said I would stay and I have," he intoned, the smirk on his lips crumbling under the weight of a fully-fledged smile. "I may act disagreeably on many an occasion, but I always act true to the word I give. And you have brought in quite the crowd tonight. A few middle-of-the-road types, a few that sounded like they were strangling a seal, but a few had very real potential."

"Such is my way," She stated, leaning against the bar and smiling at him, wide and inviting. "Enjoying yourself?" She asked, ever aware of the time and the proximity to her own show.

"I am, truth be told. There is much to be said of your work here, that I can enjoy myself despite some of the volunteers' lackluster singing. It's the atmosphere that's just so..." He began, thumbing for the right word in his head. "...intoxicating."

"You say as you down another glass of whiskey," the words and tone were teasing, her eyes sparkling as she observed him. Her body language was all flirting and yet somehow still professional despite it all.

Ezra set the glass to one side, colour flooding his cheeks at her words. "I've tried to be cautious with my tab," he insisted with a faint tinge of embarrassment in his tone. "I wouldn't want to give you reason to resent your own generosity."

"I've extended it to a homeless man before," she said, dismissing his insecurity, "Who turned out to be a drunk and a pervert. I extended the curtesy again the following week, to the same man." A shrug followed, and she reached up to pat his cheek, smirking devilishly at the flush of color to them, "The question is, is it the whiskey or the company that deepens your flesh so?"

"I'm going to call on my friendly amendments and plead the fifth," he said, raising the glass to his lips in a thinly-veiled circumvention of the question. The alcohol had settled into his system, flooding him with warmth and an uncommon degree of confidence.

"Company," he admitted, setting the glass down in defiance of the introversion that clawed at him. His eyes fell to the floor, quietly rising to meet hers. Heat pulsed in his cheeks so intensely that he considered the notion that there may well be fire in his gaze, though he would not let the fact dissuade him.

If there was fire in his gaze, then an inferno surly consumed her own. Something about his words seemed to spark a confidence in her wholly apart from the one she so obviously, regularly displayed. Her stance shifted, one leg bending at the knee, foot kicking back to balance both precariously and simultaneously effortlessly atop her stiletto's toes. She leaned closer, a gesture that, in other attire, would have her breasts busting through the hems of her top (as, obviously enough, she was rather fond of lower cut attire), and her eyes seemed to both challenge and draw him in at the same time, swirling about him in a way remarkably similar to a feline encircling something they find pleasing. "Is that so?" She inquired, words a mite bit husky, but otherwise no different than her previous tone.

"Delicious as it may be, the Death Dew alone isn't keeping me here," he intoned, his own voice dropping to a deep, silken tone. He carefully leaned back on the stool, sliding the jacket from his shoulders and dropping it on the vacant stool beside him. Beneath the coat, he had elected to wear only a white tee, fitted to form. Tattoos decorated his left arm, starting at the wrist and extending up beneath the shirt sleeve. The right arm was relatively modest, bearing little more than an anchor twined in rope on the inside of his forearm.

Ezra leaned forwards, elbows resting against the bar top as he tucked one fist under his chin. "I'm quickly realising that the right company can be far more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol." His eyes slowly, carefully dropped as they looked her over with unabashed intent.

"That is at least the second time that you have referred to me as 'intoxicating.'" She noted the term almost flatly in comparison to the previous coyness, but the flirtation was there nonetheless, and she leaned forwards, keeping her face but a breath from his own, lips like wine and breath like cinnamon. Spiced wine, perhaps, would be the most appropriate analogy, but her eyes seemed to be somewhere beyond drinking, gold, silken amber dancing in the little gateways that rimmed her pupils. Her breath at hiked up in temperature, and something about her seemed to radiate fire itself, heat and passion all but tangibly rising from her pores. "Will you be able to handle the rest of the night, or should I go ahead and call you a cab?"

Ezra inhaled, his breath silent and deep as he drank in the alluring scent of cinnamon and spices that emanated from her like a wave. Muscles tensed as the scents tumbled and mixed in an essence that threatened to undo his composure. Iced-blue irises tinged with gray followed the curve of her lip as it turned up into a smirk. "I can handle myself just fine," he murmured, enunciating each syllable with a slight edge. "And much more, when given the opportunity."

"Can you?" She asked, her voice ever the more sensual as she stared him down, clock ticking away as the other girls prepared, but she was well enough finished with her own attire to be beyond the worry of it. This, by far, was more fun than any preparation anyway.

"Too many questions, doll," he murmured coyly, though his eyes betrayed the feigned reservation. He brought his palms together, kneading them in contemplation as his forearms tensed and rolled like coiled wire. "I can't spoil all my secrets. Some can only be learned through more...hands-on tactics."

Rose didn't dare move closer, for such would end their little game far too quickly, and the build up was the best part of the whole ordeal. Anticipation ran through her veins alongside the adrenaline that drove her, that now commanded her to return backstage for choreography's sake. Even still, she offered him a grin, straightening in a way that made her hips give a light roll. Tossing her hair back, she offered a shrug. "Perhaps you will get the chance to share. Until then, I have a stage to command."

"More than a stage," he muttered wistfully, eyes fixated as she sauntered away. Necessity bid that she tend to her duties, but the sudden absence left him yearning as heat pulsed through his face. He brought the drink at hand to his lips, cursing when he noticed the lump that had formed in his throat. Damn her, he thought ruefully to himself, never relenting in the gaze that followed her as she meticulously guided the dancers. She's going to be an issue. I can feel it now.

There was a giggle at the back of Rose's throat, a thrill and ecstacy incited by the reinforced knowledge of just how badly and easily she could effect someone. Still, the faint flush that adorned her own cheeks was a clear enough warning sign that he wasn't the only one on the short end of the rope. Regardless, she knew well enough how to stay within her own command, and there were things to be done.

-

At some point, she disappeared wholly backstage, even as the lights dropped out nearly completely, leaving only the dotted orbs that accented the stage televisions and the stage itself. A light, misty fog began to flow through and off of the wooden surface, dissipating before it hit the floor, but adding a welcome coolness that would prove useful as the night progressed. Soft, glistening lights began to shine across the floor and towards the back of the stage, little glistens and glimmers that shone faintly but dreamily. Slowly, music began to play, the foreground of which seemed reminiscent of morning birds. As the piano began to chime in, spotlights flashed on, brief, soft, showcasing one of each of the nine girls on stage, each of their bodies touched and adorned by silver body glitter.

Closest to the center and slightly to the right, a thin, seemingly athletic young woman with the build of a runner had on a sheer, pale galaxy patterned mesh atop a simple thong and bralette. A white, feather-winged mask covered her eyes, spreading back towards her whispy, bound, blonde hair, and brown leather gladiator heels adorned her feet. On the opposite side and slightly further, the second of the woman had a more curved build, long strawberry blonde hair curled and left to glide down her back, a partial, slight skirt akin to a toga spreading past her hips while her breasts were bound in a bronze-sequined bra. Cork wedges covered her feet. The third was a person's width away from the first, on her right, straight brown hair left down. The top portion of her attire seemed akin to a nature-inspired, strapless monokin that faded down into a flowing, multicolored skirt. Ballet slippers adorned her feet. The fourth one, also a person's width away but from the second dancer, was adorned in a tight little black and red dress, the sides criss-crossed in an almost metallic tying, the top a low v. At her abdomen, the dress seemed to imitate armor, showcasing a finely toned six pack. Her black red hair was wild and frizzed, yet the upper layer was bound tightly at the back of her head. Like the first, she was masked, intricate black and red crossing over and concealing the area around her eyes. Leather, thigh-high combat heels encased her feet and calves. The fifth seemed somehow out of place, small frame standing out amongst the taller girls, hair swept over one shoulder. Her attire was white, akin to that of belly dancer, flowing, both intricate and somehow simple, with gold jewelry snaking up her arms like electric shockwaves. Metallic gold heels brought her height just slightly closer to average. Lined up as the sixth of the girls, the next one's attire seemed almost simple in comparison the others, a lingerie one-piece with an hourglass criss-crossing over her abdomen. The hourglass appeared almost like the time keeper itself, however, small crystal-like grains seeming to float freely through it. Her feet were bound in plain, black heels, an intricate, stick-on black eye mask covering part of her face. Seventh of the woman was a tall, seeming all legs, dirty blonde adorned in a metallic blue unitard, bound between the breasts by a plain silver ring, high silver heels laced to her feet and ankles. On the right, the slightly thicker, if only from athleticism, girl was adorned in a strapless top, the sides dipping down over her ribs, lower half covered by tight, string bikini-like underwear attached to their own, sheer sarong with simply flats that laced around her ankles. From her elbows down, detached sleeves hid her hands. The absolute simplest outfit was the eighth's, wearing nothing more than a nude unitard.

Literally an exact minute to the song, a tenth dancer seemed to suddenly appear, in the middle of them all, perfectly center stage. Her silver body glitter was replaced with gold, much like the rest of her outfit, hair like fire both bound and loose at the same time, unable to be tamed anymore than the rest of her, feral and free. Her belly dancer top acted as a push-up, with tasseled chains running down the center portion and over her upper abdomen. The skirt she wore was floor length, silken, with a dramatic slash straight up the side and to the low-rise waistband. At the back of the top, apparently, there appeared to be a pair of sashes that strapped to her wrists, trailing the floor even more than the skirt would, were it not for the gold heeled pumps that clung to her feet.

Mere seconds later, the song itself seemed to open up, and the girls burst into movement. The first of them appeared to be the fastest, zipping around and pining for attention. It encircled the center show, whose hips alone had began to move with the beat. About a minute and a half into the song, she danced along with this first girl, the others circling and moving respectively, each a tease and a dance all at once, elegance, beauty, and sex appeal.

ooc:

References ---:

Ezra leaned forward, shifting his weight to the elbows pushed against the table top. His eyes were intent and unfocused as they swept the stage, piecing together the unfolding scene. Rose had undeniably spared no expense to ensure coordination in her performance. Each girl was meticulous in makeup and attire, unique without deviating from the underlying theme of the show. Their movements were executed with an equal precision, each step, sway, and kick performed with graceful fluidity and intent. Bodies moved in stutters and rolls like cogs in a machine, encompassing and encircling the golden figure in the middle. Holy shit...is that her...?

Approximately a minute and a half into the song, the dance quickened, leading up to a climactic point of embrace between the two dancers, obscured by the sashes. From behind them, a stag light rendered them in silhouettes, and when it faded, the dancer stepped back to reveal the first to be gone. Near silence followed, with the red haired temptress staring, frozen, while the others continued to move. Soon, the second began to trace towards her, more sensual, slow, and coaxing than the last. The dance was more akin to a sort of fast-paced contemporary, building in intensity until Rose had her spun and flushed against her front, both of their bodies facing the audience. The blonde's head was tilted, chin held delicately and yet firmly by the red-head, eyes locked together, a silent dispute of power and control. Tension built, the dancers around them continuing, a series of three poles slowly rising from beneath the stage to connect into the ceiling, but the focus was far from on that. More than a little shock to the newcomers, the two entangled dancers had locked lips, slow, sensuous, all roaming hands, timid breaths, and escalating tension.

Ezra lurched forwards, spitting Death Dew his glass. He waved the waitress over, nodding appreciatively at the napkins offered to him as he wiped the speckled spray of beverage from the table. Crumpling the tissue, he looked back at Rose, carefully entangled in her dance partner. Though the act was certainly for show, there was a passion to it that moved it beyond simple sex appeal or shock value. Even as he watched, he could feel an unmistakable tingling coursing through him, like the cracks of fireworks igniting his nerves.

Moments ticked by, and soon, the Maiden's hands had moved, her right cupping the back of the blonde's head, left crossing over her body and to her hip, seemingly intent on turning her around. However, the sashes had begun to engulf the other dancer, obscuring the view of them both, and the stage light came on once more.

When it faded, the fiery, forth of the dancers had taken to the pole on the left, pace too quick for the song, wild, spontaneous, and free form. On the opposite side, the seventh had claimed another of them, each move practiced, calculated, and deliberate. None of the dancers, however, seemed yet aware of one another, save the third of whom drew forth as the golden one took to the center pole, climbing her way to the top and spinning slowly down, appearing as though she walked through the air in her gestures. Once at eye level, the third reached up, hands caressing the other woman's face. Her motions seemed gentle and serene, calm and soothing. In contrast, the center dance slid from the pole, movements deliberate as she backed the girl towards the front of the stage. At some point, the girl seemed to trip, and the Maiden crawled her way on top of her, eyes seeming hungry, hurt, and somewhere between dominate and demanding. Sashed arms went around to encompass her head as her face buried into the woman's neck. Another flash...

"Close your eyes.
You're weightless now.
Floating safe and you'll be gone."

When she stood, her eyes showed both pain and fury, spinning on the heel of one stiletto and heading back to her center stage. Interception came in the form of the forth, all wild fury and reckless abandon. Red hair cascaded about her like wildfire, the dress a tight, overly refined testament to how far she seemed to have fallen.

"Define of though, keep rising up.
He'll raise you to the stars."

The longer the song carried, the thicker the fog clouding Ezra's vision became. Each sway of her hips, each growl and grin, every damned movement she made was a spark fed to the furnace in his soul. A spin on one heel turned Rose to the crowd, revealing fervor unbound in her eyes. A twinge of pain his his chest reminded him that he had yet to draw breath since she had appeared on stage. She held his attention in a vice that would not be relinquished. The pangs ran deeper, beyond a physical twitch, in a way that Ezra had not experienced in a long while. Hunger. Specifically, hunger for her.