Alec was right on time, and he was all dressed up. Jetta was not on time, despite all of the time he gave her. But Alec entered the club with a confident stride. The worst thing that could happen is that she could've stood him up, and if that were the case, he'd probably (sulking) find some other hot chick at the bar. Though that was very unlikely.

He'd taken a good deal of time to find the right clothes, despite what he thought had only taken a short amount of time... and had ended up with a lightish blue dress shirt, with a black leather jacket positioned over it. These two articles of clothing didn't hide the scar that went from the middle of his hand to the bend of his elbow on both arms, though. (Though the only part of the scar that was visible was the part on his hand, to his palm, peeking out of his jacket.)

Then he'd taken the time to find his perfectly ironed black dress slacks for the occasion. His hair was combed neatly... not in that 'not one hair out of place' way, but combed, at least. And... is that hair gel? Heavens, Alec never uses that stuff. Only for special occasions.

There are strobe lights and dancing, and it's hot from all the people. The club is slightly intoxicating, what with all the alcoholic beverages floating about in the air, and sweaty people...

He took a seat on a bar stool, and, pulling the jacket slightly out of the way, glanced down at the silver watch on his wrist.

Five minutes late, so far, Jetta...

Jetta was worth the wait, in her (humble) opinion.

She was dressed up as well, in a slinky black strapless number that clung tightly to her curves and left little to the imagination. (Not that it was slutty, oh no. Jetta much preferred the term classy.) She was going to wind Alec around her little finger if she had anything to say about it tonight. It would be nice to have another heart to toy with.

She'd done somthing with her hair, and the entire expanse of her neck and shoulders was exposed. For looking, and maybe, if Alec were lucky and she were in the right mood, for touching. There're sparkling things in it, in strategic places. They draw attention to her.

Jetta loves attention.

She even seems to pause for a moment on the threshold, scanning the club for her victim, letting eyes settle on her in admiration and probably envy.

He can come to her.

His gaze lifted from the watch to the club, and his eyes (or eye, since technically, he couldn't see that well out of his left eye) fell upon the newcomer. Or... would be classified as newcomer, if he didn't know her. It was Jetta. And he smiled.

Forgetting the bar, Alec slid off the barstool with seemingly almost feminine grace, and carefully walked (sauntered?) over to Jetta.

"Hey, foxy."

Smile, smile. You know that when Jetta stops smiling, it's something big.

"Hey, poet."

She waits for him to usher him to the bar and buy her a drink, or maybe ask her to dance.

Or he could give her some kind of wide eyed stare that would tell her that she had succeeded in looking sexy, as she'd intended. Any one of the three would work for her. Remember, she's bored.

And so he does all three. Or, he would do all three, anyway, if he could. Instead, he just gives her this kind of look (reserved for her, and only for her) that tells her she's done well in the way of appearance. Alec bets most of the other men jealous of Alec, and the women are jealous of Jetta. And that almost puts a smirk on his babyish face.

"Mm, would you like a drink, dollface?"

Read: I'll do anything to keep you entertained, and if you want a drink, it's on me.

It's really too bad that the doting look that Jetta's giving Alec is not reserved for him alone. (Anyone who pleases her gets to be the recipient of it, at least for a little while. Until she gets bored with and/or tired of him.)

"Sure, why not?"

She's perfectly willing to let him entertain her, you see. It pleases her that he wants to. That means that she'll probably keep him a bit longer, as long as he keeps up this sort of attitude.

"Mmkay." He was pleased that she allowed him to get her a drink, and led her to the bar, with careful, graceful gentleness. (Act any more feminine, Alec, and she'll think you're gay.)

"What's it y'want?"

"Oh... anything. A margarita, I guess."

The cold of a margarita makes a nice contrast to the warmth of the other person's mouth when she kisses him. It tends to stick in one's memory, you see... She wants to play with Alec.

She was probably closer to him than such a short acquaintance dictated to be proper.

Turning, slightly, he asked, "On the rocks? Or..." he left the subject hanging, for a minute, "otherwise?" Hopefully that trip up of words doesn't change too much. Alec's rather clumsy with words, you see.

"Just a margarita, honey. That'll be fine." She leans her elbows on the bar and smiles at him, that special sort of smile that is usually reserved for 'that special someone,' and for her is the kind of smile that she gives to anyone, as long as he's male, cute, and buying her presents.

Usually reserved for... is enough for him. After all, as mentioned before, she didn't know that Jetta had a mob of boytoys, willing to please her at every whim.

He turned all the way now, towards the bartender... and there was small talk. You know, 'what kind of drink are you having?', and 'I'll have so and so...' kind of thing.

And then the drink was paid for, and in front of Jetta, as if by magic.

Jetta is pleased.

Sip of her drink.

"So, poet... I just realized I don't know much about you. What d'you do for fun, hm?"

Small talk. Always fun, isn't it?

Of course, Jetta uses small talk as more testing and weighing, and she also uses parts of it as ammunition. Don't confide in her; she uses it against you when she gets angry.

She gets angry rather too easily.

Alec didn't order a drink. He hardly ever drank, unless he felt absolutely inclined to. Right now, he didn't.

And he's sort of afraid to answer.

Like, you know, last time he disappointed/bored her with the other things he did. He doesn't want to go through that again.

He supressed a sigh.

"Oh, lots of things." Like compliment pretty girls, but lets leave that alone for the moment, shall we?

"Lose your inspiration, poet?"

Aw, that would be too bad.

Another sip.

She turned around and leaned against the bar, facing the dancers.

He can take that as a hint to dance, if he likes. She certainly won't mind.

"Nah, never." Lose his inspiration, that is. Unless you count writer's/artist's block.

He didn't take it as a hint, for the first few seconds, and then he turned, slightly.

"Would you like to dance?" Yes, he does sound like a little boy at a prom.

(Please shoot him now.)

"Absolutely."

And she didn't need any more invitation than that--little boys at proms are cute, in moderation--and swayed out onto the floor, waiting.

Is Alec a good dancer? Let's hope so.

Jetta likes good dancers. They usually end up at her apartment, and in her bed.

On second thought, let's hope he's horrible. Because Jetta, like a true black widow, tends to lose interest after mating.

I don't think she's eaten any, yet. But she certainly tries to consume their heart.

He followed, almost timidly.

It depends what you consider a 'good' dancer. If you mean good in that sort of old-fashioned, graceful, kind of way, then sure. If you're talking about modern type of things... well, let's just say... Alec is not so very good. But he's better than most guys, you could say.

And he takes her hand.

--does that cost him any points?

Yes, it costs him a point or two. Of course. But he's still high enough on the scale that she isn't going to drop him tonight for someone more interesting. At least he isn't stepping on her feet.

Jetta dances well and she dances with abandon. As long as her partner is fairly decent, she really doesn't give a damn.

It's afterwards that she deals with the points and decides whether to keep the unfortunate man or turn him loose.

So far, she's decided to keep Alec.

Most of everything he does costs him points, did you notice? At the rate he's going, Jetta's likely to get bored with him tonight. And that's both good and bad for Alec.

Fairly decent, Alec is. Fairly decent, but not as good as one might've liked. But he was good enough, I suppose, as to not make someone point and laugh. And that's enough for him.

He's got a lot of points, from that poetry stunt back in the park. Jetta loves flattery; I suspect she lives on it, or at least that she draws nourishment of some kind from being told how gorgeous she is. (And poetry's very nice for that. Very very nice.)

For now, Alec is not losing any further points. Jetta's just dancing.

Maybe after she's had enough of this, she'll get back to counting everything he does, for or against him. But dance now, score later.

This is probably the only activity that doesn't involve her carefully planning just about every motion and word. And even dancing, she plans things.

Somebody should probably buy Jetta a mirror (even though she probably has more than Alec can count) so she can look at herself and tell herself how beautiful she is.

Alec grew a tad bored with dancing, but didn't dare escape the crowd of people.

But later, he did. Escape the crowd, that is.

He wasn't too fond of sweaty people too close together, on a dance floor. Nope.

He stepped carefully, as to avoid hitting anoyne, and gracefully made his way back to the bar.

Aw, her partner left.

Jetta dislikes being left, but she's growing a bit tired of dancing anyway.

So she follows him to the bar and leans on it next to him, smiling.

Ball's in your court, Alec. Don't screw up...

... actually, do screw up. Better for your emotional well-being in the long run.

Alec put on a small little grin, that was more like a small stretch of his lips in an upward direction than a grin.

"Having fun?" he asked (and if one were paying attention, he was drawing ever[ so slowly, ever so slightly, nearer to her).

"Oh yes."

She wouldn't mind having kept dancing, but... well, this could be all right too. It depended on what Alec did.

And, yes, she noticed that he was moving closer. Thus, the little crinkle of a smile on her lips and the anticipation dancing in her eyes.

"Well," in contrast to the blaring music, Alec's voice was like a gentle clink of a glass (to be metaphorical, of course), or rather, in truth, more like a breathy whisper. Slightly higher than a whisper, though, and slightly... well, smoother.

"That's very," closer, "very," closer, still, "good."

And closer. Until what one considers personal space is invaded.

Come on, this is Jetta we're talking about. She has no conception of personal space--she invades it all the time.

It's nice to be the one letting things happen, for once.

"Is it?"

Her voice is low, honey-tinged and husky.

She's all but licking her lips in anticipation.

"Mm," he puts small, feminine hands on Jetta's hips (regardless of whether it subtracts points from him) "hmm."

And somehow, he's found his lips connected with hers.

Charming, isn't he.

How pleasant. A boy who's creative and bold enough to kiss her without her permission.

She's smiling as she kisses him back and putting her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

Guess what. He just gained back all the points he lost through the evening.

I'm so happy for you, Alec.

What? Jetta's never been kissed without her permission? Oh, that's right. Jetta runs things her way, or else. And the or else was often times always heartbreaking.

He doesn't press back (too hard) against her hips. He simply lets the kiss go for a little longer.

Alec is happy for himself, too.

What can I say? Jetta is well named.

But we all know how she likes to be in control, and one way to stay there is to control how long this deliciously forward boy gets to kiss her. And so, she pulls back, giving him a dreamy sort of smile.

"Very good, poet."

She's pleased.

"Mm." A little smile. His grin is nothing special, except for the fact that it makes him look like a pleased little boy, moreso than he already does. Most guessed fifteen, at the very most. Now, well... he looked almost, younger.

"I aim to please, dollface."

Read: your wish is my command.

"Mhmm."

Now there's a pensive sound.

Is he attractive and interesting enough for her to take him home with her for a night? He's certainly cute, and a good kisser... Oh, what the heck. If he's as good elsewhere, she might even keep him a bit longer.

Sly smile.

"I'm getting bored. Want to go somewhere?"

Are pensive sounds good or bad?

"It depends. With you or without you?"

Small, nervous smile. It's obvious who's in control of this situation, isn't it.

"How about my apartment?"

Does that answer his question?

Both of them?

Yes, it does answer both of them.

More controlled smile.

"yeah."

A quick brush of her lips across his cheek.

"Well then. Let's go."

He can follow her in his car, since they met up here.

She turned and glided through the crowd.

Can his smile widen? As is, it looks like it would crack off at any given moment. Which really is an interesting image.

Of course he can. Let's just hope he doesn't hit her car. He's not exactly the best driver in the world. But hey, he can just barely see out of one eye, give him a break. I wonder how he got his license in the first place.

Anyways.

He followed, steps still graceful as ever, and as silent as the whisper of a butterfly's wings.

((Move to apartments now?))