Rêves Humides, the strip joint hole in the wall that Bayfield's divorcee population comes to to make up for lost time. It is surprisingly clean, the women and men employee's lack nothing in style, and even though it's in a rather trashy area of the city, there are no thugs allowed.

The neon sign bleeds a soft shade of violet into the night, as a line waits impatiently below. Teenagers bring fake ids, world's best dad's come for alittle show, and grandma comes to get her kicks. The club breathes character.

Vincent was late for certain business negotiations. His partner had picked the place, one of those world's best dad's, but didn't exactly bring the bread home to his family. He was in for a big divorce and he wanted his company safe. This would be where Vincent steps in.

The club was dark, obviously between shows. The coat check girls smile had been so chemically whitened Vincent sworn it glowed in the dark. He flashed a dazzling smile in response before continuing on to his table where his partner was leaned back in his chair, staring towards the stage with a distant gaze. There was no hint of a response when Vincent moved to sit in the chair across from him. The music started and like a light switch a smile was suddenly spread across the man's face.

"Sir may I get you something to drink?"

A woman had appeared at his side. The outfit she wore seemed to be a string bikini with sequins and her face seemed tired but beautiful with the make up around her eyes making them stand out. He smiled.

"Vodka, no ice."

Of course, Rêves Humides, the strip joint hole in the wall that Bayfield's divorcee population comes to to make up for lost time is in the trashier side of town. If it were in the upper class end, or even a more decent area, it would be called a gentleman’s club instead of a strip joint.

The woman moving out onto the stage happened to be a small, thin, obviously very flexible and ‘talented’ young woman. If you could even call her a woman. While her breasts were lush enough beneath that dark green ‘outfit’ as they called it, and her body was toned and complete, and despite the way she had her hair cut to make her look older, she was obviously too young to even be admitted into the club, let alone a dancer. But alas, there she is on stage, moving slowly, swaying to the music, strutting around, bounding, twisting, spinning, and doing things with her body, bending her limbs to the music, in a way that should be impossible.

If you were paying enough attention to her face, or if you could peel your eyes from her body to spare her face a glance, her face shows as much as her body does to the music. She uses her pouting lower lip to manipulate her features, her bright, bright green eyes with the dark make up around them to draw and capture attention. If you guessed she was too young, she were right. She’s seventeen, and this is her third year stripping. Why not, it’s a safe job that earns good money, at least she’s stripping and not whoring.

Salem’s hair is chopped short and choppy in the back and top, pushed into what could pass for a seventies style Mohawk on the top of her head, spiky in the back. Her bangs, however, are chin length and blown straight to one side of her face. She moved onto the stage with the music dressed in a pair of second-skin blue jeans, a ripped white tee shirt, and a matching blue jean jacket. Between the slashes and rips can be seen a dark green bikini top. It matched those eyes.

Another woman had moved out with her, this one in a violet bikini, not matching her eyes because it’s harder to find something to match dark brown eyes and black bikini’s get old fast. This one looked of age, long dark hair, a little bigger then the first female, better to. More practice. They moved together though, focused on separate ends of the room, featured with the names Veronica and Sarah. Their names were Victoria and Salem. But the crowd didn’t care.

((if it's hard to reply to, I can revise it :) )

Wayne Hurr was the name of Vincent's business partner. At 5'4 the man was fat, balding and had just turned forty six last month. He wore a rather tired looking business suit, the color around the edges had faded and a few rips and tears had been carefully repaired. The shirt underneithe was a light shade of blue that equally matched his pale eyes, and the tie was red with yellow stripes. Fashion victim at best.

Vincent looked like your typical well polished rich jerk. Which was exactly what he was. The fabric of his jacket and slacks where a fine silk dyed a shimmering black, the shirt was white and translucent revealing his chest. His hair he had chose to leave down, holding it back in a pony tail seemed too typical, it framed his face before falling over his shoulders and against his back. Violet eyes seemed luminesent with the dim reflection of the stage lighting.

Hurr seemed throughally enthralled with the little show on stage, his sausage like fingers kneaded at the fabric of his pant leg as is left hand reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. In only a matter of moments did he join the rest of the crowd in wildly waving money to snatch the girls attention hoping to lure them closer.

Vincent reached across the table to his associate and touched his forearm. "Hurr?" the man whirled to look at him, seeming like one who had just woken from a dream. "What?" He smoothed his neck tie and lowered his hand with the money in it slowly as if embarassed.

"When are we going to get on with this?"

Vincent tried to hide his frustration. Places like this overwelmed him, lust could be tasted like strong cheap perfume, it was intoxicating especially for those like him. Hurr gave a bark of a laugh and shoved a fifty dollar bill into Vincent's hand. "Pleasure before business my friend ... we'll discuss it later."

He sighed as the man turned back to the stage and slowly got up. He'd preoccupy himself until after the show, maybe then they could talk and he could leave.

Vincent pushed through a door and paused. Wrong door. He now stood backstage, a few dancers waiting to go on turned to look at him, they all smiled.

Ashley, Salem and Victoria’s roommate, was one of those that was waiting to go on stage. She’d be dancing with Sail and Tor except they were close in height and she was too tall. It would look awkward and make the stage crowded. She’d been holding a robe, most of the dancers didn’t wear robes. Salem did. And Ashley was there to hand it to her the moment she came off the stage.

Salem had teased, moved, slithered even for a good long time, the length of two songs with such similar tunes that you would have to know they weren’t two songs to catch the transition. They’d both stripped to the little bikini’s, matching the waitresses now, and were on their knees, slinking about, collecting money like good little girls, keeping just out of reach. She wasn't afraid of all of those hands, because the rules were that the customer wasn't allowed to touch them, the customer couldn't hurt them. And she trusted her boss to enforce that rule, despite the black eye that the green makeup was concealing. She'd been hit by a customer last week.

Another dancer from backstage, this one a redhead, had strut over to the man to find out just what he was doing back here without an escort. Men were only allowed behind the stage if they were part of the crew or were going to...ahem...get a favor from one of the dancers. In order for it, they had to be escorted.

She was a mouthy, fiery woman.

The current show ended after a few moments and Salem and Victoria came back in while two men moved through the curtains to collect their clothing and tips left behind. Salem took the robe and slipped it on over the green bikini, tieing the sash loosely so that the top hung open but she was covered waist down. She turned her face towards where Dianna was moving, watching her march towards the man.

“Whose that?” Victoria asked.

“Dunno but if Dee gets over there before someone else, he’s going to be trapped back here for a while, chewed out and spit up.” Told you Dee had a bad attitude.

Salem shook her head. “Go save him.” Victoria gave her a sideways look and Salem sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll go save him.” And she started forward towards them. “Dee! Dee he’s back here for me. I got him from the crowd. Aren’t you up next with Ash?” The red head stopped in her tracks and threw a rather short-tempered and nasty glance at Salem but indeed she turned around and moved off. Salem gave him an apologetic look.

Vincent watched the woman come like a threat of a great storm, marching towards him with an arsenal of choice words for his sudden appearance. He watched her, face unreadable and lovely, only his violet eyes gave hint to expression. In the air around him there was movement, something unnatural and most certainly unwanted.

“Dee! Dee he’s back here for me. I got him from the crowd. Aren’t you up next with Ash?”

The red-headed woman, apparently named Dee whirled to place the glare on the girl like fire to skin. Vincent looked amused as the girl that claimed his innocence came to him, letting Dee walk off in the storm of fiery anger. He took her hand and pulled her to him. His hand rose to her shoulder, trailing over her shoulder blade to trace her spine and pause above her buttocks. Vincent leaned into her, enough to caress her ear with his lips only to whisper without being over heard.

"Thank you."

His violet eyes glanced behind her and watched the others. The girl had claimed that she had invited him back stage, why not make it believable for Miss Dee.

Salem’s bright green eyes flicked to the side and back when his fingers touched her hand and pulled her to him. And then those green eyes, only one showing now since her long bangs had fallen from behind her ear and over her left eye, narrowed slightly when his fingertips touched her shoulder. Who wouldn’t be suspicious when only a week ago not being careful about who you allowed to touch you in the strip club had earned you a black eye?

A shiver ran down her body, springing goose bumps up the exposed flesh of her chest and arms, when his fingers traced down her spine, smooth against the coolness of the silk robe and stopped only about her butt. She did not like that at all. It wasn’t that it felt bad, because it didn’t. In fact it felt nice. But it’s because the whole concept of touching. And the stranger. And specifically the stranger touching her on that place, her back, the only part of herself she can’t defend. It was uncomfortable and came without good memories.

Then his lips against her ear, the soft tickles against it with words. Her head gave an involuntary twitch to the side, as if almost a half shake of the head. What kind of mess had she gotten into just to keep Dee from wounding yet another customer this month and getting fired?

“Don’t mention it.” And she smiled, and despite what she felt, the flirting, secretive, seductive smile was only naturally to her now. After all, it’s what earned her her tips. Her voice still holds the underlying of a child grown up too fast. Maybe she can escort him through the back exit, wait around in the ally for a bit, and then come back. Would anyone believe she’d really taken him to the ‘back room?’ Oh geeze.

Vincent watched Dee walk out on stage as he leant against the girl. It was bad enough he had to come for Hurr, owners of corporations who donate thousands to orphans for publicity do not look good sneaking into the backstage area of strip joints. He let go of the girl and like a switch the flirtatious attitude was gone. He was closed and unreadable again, those brilliant violet eyes scanning for some back door.

He paused and looked down at the girl as if he suddenly realized she existed. "My name is Vincent." He extended his hand to her, considerably business-like of him when taking into account that he nearly groped her only a second ago. For him it had been a great deal more of an effort than what it should have been. Since Vincent had the abilty to feed off emotions, this place was intoxicating, drowning and sadly a steady increase to his desires.

Maybe the girl would point him in the right direction before he started taking into consideration other options.

Suddenly he wasn't so uncomfortably friendly, suddenly he wasn't terribly close or touching her back. He was just standing there, letting go of her with his hand stuck out and reminding her so much of her boss. After all, her boss is the only proper man she knows, despite that he runs a strip joint, he wears a suit and has manners and he's the only proper man she knows. Everyone else is labeled thugs, to avoid, or dumb asses.

She took a small step back so she wasn't pressed to his chest and she took a deep breath, disappointed in herself when it shuddered with anxiety. She took his hand and her own was very small, very delicate, like the rest of her seemed.

"Salem." Not Sarah like they had announced while she was on stage. The stage names had two purposes: 1. They sounded more alluring. 2. For the stippers protection so no one actually knows even a fraction of their real name.

"What are you doing back here?" Blunt enough, she's always been. And now that she's not pressed against him, she isn't nervous.

It actually surprised him when she took his hand, hell, it surprised him when she didn't slap one of those delicate hands across his face for what he had done. He smiled then and raised her hand to his lips before laying a gentle kiss against it. Her skin was warm beneathe his lips, the emotions rode her skin like an invisible wave and caressed his skin even beneathe the suit. Those violet eyes watched her, studied her, she was beautiful to say the least but so young. He guessed somewhere around sixteen. Pity.

Vincent sighed and released her hand. "Would you believe me if I told you I chose the wrong door?" He smiled and walked around her looking over the racks with costumes and the mirrors against the far wall. He leaned into one corner, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her, waiting.

The shadows and the black of his pants did well to hide certain things. The desire of all those in the audience beyond the curtain was making itself known. However by his expression one couldn't tell.

"The back door, where is it?" Wether he could hide it now or not in a few short moments he wouldn't be able to hide it at all, the place was getting to him and he wanted out. Only his pride kept him from running out in desperation to get away.

Salem's not one much for violence, even to slap someone whose gotten out of line. For one thing, her father made her desperatly hate violence, for another, she's just not very violent by nature.

That was just....weird. What kind of guy kisses someones hand anymore? That's like seeing a man open the car door for a lady these days...the world is coming to an end type of weird. Not bad, just not normal. And when he let go of her hand, she pulled it back against her own body, crossed her arms loosly. And as he began to walk a circle around her, looking at costums and mirrors, she circled too, keeping her eyes on him.

"Accident?" Now her tones are definatly more casual. He's not touching her at all and she's in her element not his. She has no problem whatsoever standing backstage in a building full of lust. Nope. Not one little problem. "The door is marked backstage. Did you accidently not read the sign?" Teasing tones. She took a few steps back and leaned against a high hoarse beam, do not ask what a strip joint needs a high horse for.

"I'd believe it." She nodded in a direction past the curtians that seperated the stage and runway with the back stage. Past one small thicket of girls and a dozen racks of costums, theres just one shabby door.

Vincent smiled, mildly amused with her teasing reply to his question. He didn't bother to answer as he pushed away from the wall and strode towards her. The slight problem he hid well, hell, even those evil little thoughts lay tucked away somewhere behind his violet eyes. He stopped maybe a couple inches from her and gently took her chin in his hand. Vincent leaned forward as if to kiss her but stopped and laid his lips against her cheek.

Oh how he loved that fine line between a gentleman and a flirt, he played around it, only going farther when the person on the other end rose to meet him. Miss Salem wasn't in any danger of being ravaged by him anytime soon, he knew the chances were slim of her meeting him half-way... perhaps non-exsistant.

Vincent sighed against her skin before letting go and turned making his way to the back door.

Mom used to say don't play with fire and don't play with something unless you know what it is.

Of course he doesn't know her, how does he know she won't meet him half way. But of course, he mom had warned her not to play with the unknown, and he is a stranger and therefore, unknown. But mom had also advised her to never be like those woman at the Gentlmen's club or those girls on Main Street. And oh dear, it seems she's exactly like one of those girls at the gentlmen's clubs...only she's settling for a lot less pay.

He can hide himself, but she's a stripper and she's seen a million attempts to hide the effects that a strip club has on a man. The sly smile says she knows and she relishes in the fact that she knows, even if he's trying to hide it like everyone else.

He started towards her and she might have taken a step back except she was leaning against something, and she was ready to duck her head away from a kiss, but the kiss landed on her cheek and her smile was sweet. The breath against her skin made another shudder and her eyebrows creased in a little frown at his retreating back.

"Hey," she pulled off the robe and walked towards a locker in nothing but that little bathing suit that expossed her perfect rear end, her pale back, and her long legs (for such a short girl). She opened the locker and pulled out a pair of shorts, sliding them on and taking out something that might have once passed for a shirt. "You didn't tip me," sly grin. Two can play games.

If he can tettering between gentlman and flirt, she can teeter between total slut and mild flirt.

Those violet eyes looked to her as he paused and turned to face her with a smile that could match hers equally. He studied her then, for only a moment, the way any man in that situation would. Memorizing the curvature of her body wondering just how it would feel to have her for only one night. Vincent was ashamed of this but at the same time he wanted to succumb to it.

He pulled his billfold from his back pocket and gestured for her to come closer with a bill as he put it back. A step backwards, and then another, more followed until the door was at his back and his eyes still on her.

She watched while she pulled another shirt on over her head, this one a sweater. But it would do about as much as the shirt beneath would against the cold with all the cuts in it. What can she say, it’s yesterday’s fashion but it’s what the men want to see them in today. What she was doing was probably not smart. What was she getting herself into, she wondered, as she slipped her feet into soft boots and pulled her jacket out of the locker, then a thick envelop and a set of keys and tucking them into the pockets, before closing it.

She took a step, hand out, but he stepped back. Heart beat. Pause. She stepped again when he stepped back, matching each one of his steps with one of her own, her fingers out towards the bill for only the first few steps before getting the point and letting her hand fall to her side and simply match his steps.

Her outfit was cute to say the least, but hardly a preference for Vincent. No. He could see her in silk the color to match her eyes, perhaps the color of green leaves in the springtime, revealing just enough to let one's imagination run wild.

A flick of his wrist and the bill was gone, corny little magic trick that it was, he made it work to his advantage. Vincent did this with his co-workers, though they never saw the money again, he planned to give her this ... only not at the moment. He stood inches away, staring down but not touching, hands at his sides, face neutral. He raised his hand, very slowly upward, and that small movement sent his fingertips gliding along her jacket. Vincent held the edge of the fabric with his fingertips inside the open edge of the jacket at the level of her waist. With hesitation he began to slide his hand upwards, above her waist, stomach, then the back of his fingers brushed over her breasts. He didn't hesitate as he moved up to the collar of the jacket.

There was something like fear in those violet eyes as his hand moved from the collar to her neck, fingers gliding over her smooth skin until he cupped the back of her neck, his thumb over her pulse. Vincent paused waiting for her to pull away, it had surprised him enough that she called to him before he began to leave, but maybe this was too fast too soon.

Well, people like Vincent didn’t frequent places like this one, no. If they wanted entertainment of this variation they found it in classier places. Trashy men like trashy cloths on tramps and if that’s what earned her money, that’s what Salem did.

Her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows dipped in frustration but her green eyes, or the one eye visible beneath her bangs, gleamed with amusement when the bill disappeared from his hand. She dipped her head just a little as he stood there, trying to glimpse up his sleeve and see if that was where the money disappeared to.

She stopped moving when his fingertips were along the edge of her jacket at her waist level. It was soft, probably something expensive, or not. She kept her eyes fixed on his, without looking down at the hand, her chest swelled a little when the fingers brushed her breasts, her catching her breath and holding it for that second and releasing with his fingers touching the collar.

There was something, not quite fear but something similar to it in her green eyes and she’s dully noted the fear in his own. Curious of this, she swallowed when his hand was on the back of her neck. Big hands over a very delicate, swanlike neck. She lifted her chin, almost a defiant guesture that looked less meak then she had simply standing there. There’s a more sensual spark in her eyes now, her stage eyes. She didn’t push him away, she started this. And the defiance in her eyes was her own, despite that the sensual spark was only a stage face. The fear in his was real. She tipped her head to the side, leaning back against his hand easily.

A smile curved his lips as she attempted to look up his sleeve for the bill. "You will have it soon enough." His voice was soft as he noted her reaction to his touch, tasting it like wine. Vincent sighed, taking in her scent, admiring her small but noticeable gesture of defiance. Her eyes also, he had seen those eyes once before and he knew there was nothing special to him, just another customer. Despite all this however he was still afraid, any other time he would not admit to this, but it was obvious enough already. There was hesitation to his movements, the silent hope that she would return them.

With only his hand against her flesh he leaned into her, his lips hovering over hers for the second time. A pause. Those violet eyes watching her own before he laid his lips against hers gently.

It would probably shock him to know that this wasn’t just an ‘another customer’ scenario to her. Actually, she doesn’t do private customers. In fact, a month ago she left work with a black eye given to her by a customer that thought touching was allowed. Apparently men didn’t like it when strippers slapped them. Her defiant look was to make herself feel more confident.

She smiled, “How’d you do that?” Then she blinked.

Salem let him hover and she didn’t move at all, she didn’t take her green eyes from his and simply stood still. When his lips touched hers, she let her eyes droop a little bit first, then close entirely and let her hand go up and rest on the back of her own neck, wriggling her fingers into a place between his.

"A magician shouldn't tell his secrets." He replied in a whisper against her lips. Vincent was more confident in his actions now, he slipped his arm beneathe the jacket and around her waist before he pulled her closer. Close enough she could notice him stretched hard and firm against the fabric of his pants. His lips met hers again, just as gently as before, then slowly he opened her mouth with his own deepening the kiss.

He felt her fingers interlace with his own and he smiled into the kiss.

“No?” She chewed her lower lip when he whispered against hers. “What if I want to be one?” It would be neat, she had to admit that to herself. His confidence made her’s wane a little. It’s almost like a really badly constructed dance between them, if he’s confident, she isn’t, if she is, it seems he isn’t.

Another brush of lips and suddenly her lips are not closed anymore and her chest fluttered. His smile just caused another and she opened her eyes, wide green eyes that were unsure and very surprised, though not at all surprised by the feeling of firmness below his belt. She’d noticed that much earlier but only because she knew what to look for. She works, after all, in this place. Her other hand came up to rest on his arm that wrapped around her waist.

It so happened three young women, all who were older then her without question and two of them being Ashley and Victoria, were watching them, two smiling but Victoria looked almost disapproving.

Vincent had only been concerned about wether or not she would return his advances, when she did to quite a few, his confidence began to strengthen. He chuckled softly. "Do you? I might tell you then ... after you look in your side pocket that is." The softest, sweetest caresses can be the best distractions as Vincent had learned. As he was leaning in to take her lips with his own she gave him the perfect moment to slip that bill into her pocket.

He leaned back against the door, his violet eyes glancing back to the three women. Vincent knew if he wanted privacy he would have to go somewhere else.

(peh ... crappy short post >.<)

Side pocket? She'd thought he meant his own since surely if he'd put it in her pocket she'd have noticed. Right? So she unlinked her fingers from his and leaned forward and put her fingers into his jacket pocket, then the other. Frown and the slightest turn of her head to the side, green eyes very intent and almost amused. Amusment grew when she reached into her own pocket and a slow smile formed on her lips.

She leaned forward against him when he leaned back. "How'd you do that?"

~mine too. No worries~

His breath caught in his throat as she reached into his pockets, his body tightening with only the thought that her hands were so close to his bare skin. Those violet eyes glanced back down to her and smiled. "Practice, pickpockets can take money without someone realizing it, I just simply put it in." Glamour had something to do with that too, but he wouldn't tell her that.

His gaze wandered back to their audience. "Is there somewhere else we can go?"

(today will be a short crappy post day ^-^)

She wrinkled her nose a little and took her hand back out of her pocket. See, she hasn't got a problem making advancments on him, it's in her job description anyways and she's been doing that for almost two years now. It's just his part that makes her nervous, for good reasons.

She looked around and when she did two of the girls tried to look like they were being productive. Victoria shook her head and just turned away. Salem frowned and looked at him, a blush against her cheeks. "Um. I. There's back rooms I guess?" She suggested.

~Works for me.~

He would perhaps show her soon enough that there was nothing to be nervous about with him. Those people who worked under him though would say differently. Before, his father owned that company with such a stong grip that Vincent found himself struggling to get out of his shadow. Sometimes the route of a rude son of a bitch was the way he went.

He smiled slightly when she blushed, hesitant when he leaned forward and kissed her gently, a tender brush of lips. "Do you know how red you have just gotten?" The expression in the violet eyes was playful, amused beyond a doubt. He ran his hand up her side, silently wishing she still had that silk robe on. "Lead the way."

All he had to do was ask. She's here to accomadate, or so the boss would say. Of course, his girls were his numder one priority and if they didn't want touched well...the guy that left the bruise around her eye was more then just kicked out of the club. Probably wished he were dead.

"Oh no." She put her hands on her cheeks and her green eyes had widened with suprise and annoyance. "oh." Her cheeks were warm and his mentioning the blush embarassed her. The blush extended to around her eyes too, almost covered by the pretty designs of makeup.

"I. ALright." Anything to turn her back from him and regained her composur. She took his hand and turned, pulling him along so that she could stay in front of him. Down a hall way was many doors, three of which had little red tags taped to the front and she passed these to a door that didn't, pushed it open, and waited for him to go in.

(lol!)

He tried not to laugh, honest. Those violet eyes just sparkled as he watched her reaction. It could have been worse, his sister had told him of a date she went on were her date was kind enough to admit she had something on her nose. When he leaned closer he noticed it was infact a nose hair and starting laughing. Vincent wasn't that rude, in fact he thought, for lack of a better word, that it was cute.

He let her guide him down the hall, not minding at all that she was infront, and occaisonally he glanced to the little red tags guessing those rooms were occupied. She stopped and opened a door, waiting as he entered. Those violet eyes only looked over the room for a moment before looking to her. A smile curved at his lips once more, that smile was one especially saved for the bedroom. It was the kind of smile that promised things that should only be done in the dark behind closed doors.

As soon as she closed the door he took her hand gently in his own and pulled her to him.

The smile made her swallow.

She'd be grateful that he didn't point out any of the more horrible flaws on her, such as a nose hair...

Actually, if he did she'd probably run away. Then he'd have to be carful about Breanna killing him, she'd almost done that just because he went through the wrong door...poor Vincent.

She almost forgot to red tag the door, lets keep it a secret between me, you, and Salem, she's never done this before. She tagged the door and pulled it shut and when he took her fingers there was a fine, light tremor taking its time bouncing between her fingers and her knees, but she went easily enough to him, curled her fingers around his. Nerves made her dizzy. Or maybe that's him.

This was his element here, caresses in the darkness, soft whispers against smooth skin. Vincent had lived so much longer that herself, he had studied the ways to pleasure a woman, unnerve them, and it made him terribly giddy to taste it on her. He pulled her close, his lips soft against her neck as he trailed gentle kisses over her smooth skin.

A pause as he slipped his hands beneathe her jacket, pulling it back over her shoulders before letting it fall to the ground around her feet. He tucked his hands beneathe her shirt tracing them up over her bare skin. Vincent then stopped, inches below her breasts. "Salem..." His voice came in a whisper, his violet eyes opening to look to hers. "Is this your first time?"

The jacket slipped off of her shoulders easily and she resisted the urge to step away from it as it lay on the floor around her feet, as if afraid she would forget it was there and trip over it. His hand up her shirt would meet smooth, tight skin, toned from activity and warmed from standing indoors in a jacket, sweater, and shirt for such an amount of time. Cold chills rippled her skin with the kisses on her neck.

She sucked in her breath, nervous and ignoring the feelings of mingled foreboding and excitement, then he said that. .......long pause, she looked downward in the darkness, his lips turned down in the corners just slightly.

“Not exactly,” she’s being imprecise on purpose, by the way. And she doesn’t want to talk about it so she lifted her chin and went to her toes, pressing soft lips against his to shut off the next question.

~soo sleepy....~

Needless to say he let the question go, her kiss in response reminded his body of the reason they were in this room to begin with. Vincent pulled out of the kiss hesitantly to take her sweater and shirt leaving only that flimsy bikini top. A smile as he circled around her pulling her close against the hard strength of his body, her back to his chest. His clever hands freed the knot holding the top to her and pulled it away. A burning kiss against her neck as he cupped her exposed breasts, capturing both peaks between thumb and forefinger. Vincent had no intention of finishing this soon, though his body ached with need, he wanted her to be ready for him.

Releasing one of her breasts, he reached down her torso, finding the button of her shorts. Flicked it open. The zipper hissed. Vincent slipped a hand down into her open fly and beneathe the remaining piece of the bikini. As he found her sex, two long fingers pumped their way between her tight folds.