"The Real World" (Always easy to join; check it out)

"The Real World"
A Social Club

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(You're asking yourself, why 3 threads? It's easier for the Host to organize the information of a group RP if the information is separate this way; and it's better for the writers/readers, because now, when their notification announces a new post, they know whether it was an existing writer posting an IC Thread reply, a new writer posting a Profile, or the Host posting an OOC memo for all to read.)

Something to Keep in Mind:
"The Real World" is like something from the Twilight Zone:
It is ALL times AT all times ... meaning
if you want your character to be having breakfast at 9am
or be dancing his or her ass off at midnight
it can happen ... they both can happen right now at the same time!
There is no strict RP time line to follow. Cool, huh?​

Participating

OOC -- The link below, "music", will in fact take you to music, so if you are in a "quiet" setting -- library or otherwise -- don't open it. Once you open the link, you can leave it open and come back to this page and continue reading if you would like to. The video had nothing to do with the RP.

Also, any of the people mentioned below who do not have links to profiles are available as characters; you can write them if you would like to as a one time or short term character without having to create a profile, and if you decide you would like to write them again in the future, you may post a profile then.


Saturday Morning, 2:30am

Percy excused himself from the small group in the Executive Box on the Mezzanine level of the night club portion of "The Real World", joining his Security Chief who had been giving him the look that told him something was not right. The Chief leaned in close, speaking just loud enough for his boss to hear him over the music. "Taylor is here. He wants a tour."

Percy nodded his acknowledgment, telling him, "My office, two minutes."



Percell Darlington never worried too much about Lieutenant Taylor's impromptu tours through "The Real World". The establish rode that razor's edge between legal and illegal, moral and immoral, sexually adventurous and perverted; but, to the best of his ability, Taylor never allowed things to get to the point that warranted him being hauled in by the Vice cop.

The Security Chief entered Percy's office, stepping aside to allow the smiling Taylor by.

"Percy, my friend," the Brit called out in his heavy accent. "How's tricks?"

Percy stood and offered his hand over his desk. As the two clasped hands, he answered, "Couldn't be better. Like printing money."

Taylor laughed loud and long, responding, "With everything else you do around here, I wouldn't for a moment doubt that you were printing money."

The two laughed for a long moment. Percy came out from around his desk, heading for the office door as he asked, "So, Taylor my friend, where do you want to start tonight?"

"I have all the time in the world tonight," the Vice Officer answered. "It doesn't matter, so let's see all of it, shall we?"

Percy gave him a sharp look, then smiled uneasily. "All of it?"

"Sure!" the cop bellowed, laughing. "Why not?"

deleted

What Lieutenant Taylor called a tour was combination roust, peep show, and scavenger hunt.

The roust was looking for people using drugs, underage men in the bar, underage women in the Third Floor rooms, and anything else that might fill the Vice Cop's monthly arrest quota.

The peep show came from the fact that many of the more private areas of the huge, city block occupying building were, in fact, monitored by cameras or microphones, or were viewable via peep holes or one way mirrors. Officially, the reason for the view-ability of what people expected to be private, intimate areas was to provide security and protection, not only for "The Real World", but for the patrons as well. Unofficially ... well, unofficially, the subject wasn't discussed.

And the scavenger hunt was Taylor's attempt to find anything that he could hold over Percy's patrons. The Cop wasn't above extorting a well-to-do patrol, or a City or County official. Last year, he'd pulled up to the front for another tour in a brand new Dodge Charger, telling Percy later after a handful of drinks that the vehicle was courtesy of Representative Lee. The district's man-at-the-capitol had been a regular lap dance customer of one of Percy's sexiest dancers for years, right up until a certain Vice Lieutenant got a camera phone pic of the married politician with his head between a pair of huge, unbridled tits.

Percy and Lt. Taylor; Saturday, 2:40am



The music was beginning to pound again. The pair's first destination, as always was the Mezzanine Level of the dance club portion of "The Real World". Taylor had a thing for looking down upon the little people, defined, essentially, as anyone without the privilege of carrying a gun and a badge. He typically spend ten or fifteen minutes up here, moving from one overlooking box to another; in each, he would look over the people at the table there -- for evidence of drugs, weapons, what ever -- then move to the hand rail and look down upon the crowd on the dance floor, specifically to the females with the deep cut blouses and impressively displayed titties, as Taylor liked to call them.

He failed to find anything of interest tonight. He looked to Percy and ordered the continuation in one word, "Show Room".



There were forty-four monitors in the Security Office, informally referred to as the "Show Room". Here, nearly every square inch of the four story, 150,000 square foot establishment was under 24/7 surveillance. That included both levels of the underground parking garage -- another 80,000 square feet of brightly lit pavement -- and, unknown to Taylor, every room on the Third Floor, the "Rooms-by-the-hour" portion of the facility ... thus the name, "The Show Room".

Taylor spent another 15 minutes directing the men and one woman at the control consoles, having this camera then that one zoomed or turned as he looked for suspicious activity or evidence of drugs. He looked to Percy, with an expression of deep disappointment, saying, "They're all being good little children tonight aren't they, Percy man."

The left "The Show Room" and made their way to and through the gift shop, the sports bar, the restaurant and the cafe, the Main Floor Dance floor, the Mezzanine once more, and department after department after department until they'd finally been through all of the building save the actual Rental Rooms themselves.

It was nearly 4am by the time the Cop was bored. Back in Senior Manager's Office, Percy offered Taylor a cigar, reminding him that it was illegal to smoke it inside the public building. "I wouldn't want you to charge me with a misdemeanor health code violation.

The Cop laughed. "Yeah, like I'm going to bust you for second hand smoke, Percy, old friend."

The two stared at one another for a long moment, their faces filled with the same knowing expression. Finally, Percy asked, "Blond ...? Brunette...? Redhead maybe?"

"Surprise me," Taylor said, smiling back.



The woman was waiting in the Third Floor room, posed for maximum excitement as the Security Chief led Taylor in, then turned to leave.

"Oh," the Chief said, stopping at the door and turning back. He smiled. "She likes hand cuffs, too."


(OOC -- Are interested in playing this woman? No profile needed, unless you want to submit one; and no long term reply commitment necessary. One post, two, ten, a thousand ... that's up to you. That's what this RP is about: flexibility!

Marcus and Eric; Saturday, 3am:

The action in the Night Club was winding down. Last call had come and gone unannounced, as was policy; it was Marcus' belief that if you weren't sober enough to know that 2:30 was approaching quickly, you didn't need another drink. The thirty-past-two last service of alcohol was State Law, but -- as Manager of the Night Club division -- the closing of the doors was Marcus' decision.

And Marcus didn't close the place down until each and every person dancing on the floor or sitting in a booth who hadn't yet done so had an opportunity to link up with someone and, hopefully, head upstairs to one of the Rooms-for-Rent. His Boss, Percell Darlington, has instituted a new Incentive Policy concerning the rooms that occupied the 3rd through 5th floors; for every room rented -- whether it be for the hour or the night -- by someone whose credit card had also been buying drinks and such in the Night Club earlier, Marcus received a bonus of $40.

Marcus hadn't understood how "Percy" could do that and still make money. Then he realized that many of the rooms were being rented by men -- and, sometimes, women -- who were also paying for the services of the person, or persons, who were occupying the rooms with them. And, although Percy had no direct role in the sex-for-money activities going on in "The Real World", he did make money from it indirectly -- in a number of ways!

So, Marcus did all he could to hook up paying patrons with available partners, sometimes slipping them his business card, which the girls knew would get them and their partners a discount on the room; and he promoted credit card use -- which these days wasn't hard as so few people carried cash anymore -- to create a paper trail for his bonus.

He sat at a private corner table on the Mezzanine Level, tapping keys of a lap top, calculating his bonus for the night as Eric knocked on the door frame to announce his presence, then joined him.

"So, how'd you do tonight, Marcus?"

The Night Club Manager tapped another key, then ran his finger down the mouse pad. He smiled, and lifting his cranberry and Perrier, answered with a smile, "Twelve-fifty."

"Jesus Christ!" Eric bellowed, slapping his hand to the table top. "Just in bonus?"

Marcus nodded. "That's more than double my salary. Not bad, huh?"

The two lifted their drinks -- Eric was sipping at a small brewery product from Oregon, Ninkasi -- toasted, and sipped. After a moment, Marcus asked, "Why aren't you upstairs?"

"Oh, I'm heading to my room now," Eric answered, gesturing to a passing waitress to collect his nearly empty bottle. "Just wanted to say hi and--"

"That's not what I meant," Marcus cut in, giving him a knowing smile.

Eric did know what his friend meant. He didn't mean why aren't you upstairs in your own bed on the 7th floor; he meant why aren't you a floor above us, being straddled by some well-to-do, older woman whose husband didn't understand her anymore; or face down between the thighs of some slightly tipsy, very leggy model in town for a photo shoot.

"Maybe I'm slipping," Eric said, knowing full well that he wasn't. He'd dance with and chatted up some very good prospects, but when it came down to it, no one had struck his fancy tonight. "Think I'll just call it a night ... maybe go see my kid in the morning."

Marcus smiled at the thought. "How's she like the bike?"

Eric stood and headed for the private area's exit. "Thank you, for that Marcus. The loves it. Only three years old, and I think she'll be off the training wheels in no time."

They traded farewells, and Eric stepped out onto the Mezzanine -- and directly into a young woman hurrying toward him while looking the opposite direction. He caught her as she stumbled into his arms; she was startled, but quickly laughed and began apologizing, as did he in return.

They stared into one another's eyes for a long moment, and about the time that Eric began to realize that the catch of her was becoming more of an embrace -- and that he was beginning to feel stirrings down below -- she planted a wet kiss on his lips, pulled away, and began laughing, nervously and without apparent end...


(OOC -- Interested in playing this woman? No profile needed, unless you want to submit one; and no long term reply commitment necessary. One post, two, ten, a thousand ... that's up to you. That's what this RP is about: flexibility!

Ivan Jannovic stood against the steel fence surrounding the secured parking area across the street from "The Real World", simply ... searching the morning crowd. Aside from midnight in the night club across from him, this time and place was his favorite; the morning sun reflected off the building's windows, then it's brick facade, first warming him, then not. It played with his senses, and Ivan liked having his senses played with.

The night before, a woman twice his age from Bulgaria had been the one playing with his senses. She'd been cut loose by her husband -- who was a Cultural Attache or something like that -- to go have dinner and tea with friends, but had instead ended up with Ivan on Real's dance floor, and later in one of the rooms upstairs. She'd been enormously impressed with the boy and thanked him with two one hundred dollar bills and a copy of the electronic key to the thousand dollar a night hotel room which the couple from Sofia turned out would not be using further. Ivan, in turn, had sold the key to the Manager of the Real's Sports Book for two hundred dollars.

And now, standing in the on-again-off-again sunshine, he was contemplating whether to use the money to pay off debts -- he'd been living off friends for several weeks now -- or upgrade his wardrobe. Ultimately he decided not to decide and, instead, headed across the street to "Sidewalk Jo" for an espresso and a scone ...


(OOC -- Anyone want to drop in for a cup of jo...? Ivan's Profile.)

Wisp looked up at the soft sun for a few moments her soft eyes gazing upwards. Returning her attention to earth she found herself approaching the "Sidewalk Jo". She looked like a sad doll, wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood up, a black tulle skirt, and soft white camisole. She had one earphone in and the other out looking utterly bored. She cast a glance to the side noticing a rather young looking boy. She tipped her head to the side raising a single eyebrow at him. Hmm... I wonder who he could be. she turned away to order her coffee, an espresso, and leaned against the counter to wait...

(OOC -- Remember, everyone ... time doesn't mean anything in "The Real World". Percy is interviewing strippers midday Saturday; Ivan is getting coffee early morning Saturday; and the vice cop Taylor is still about to get laid at 4am, same day. And everyone's happy as a kitten tangled in yarn...

Percy, Saturday afternoon:


The Manager of "The Vegas Strip" set a hot, thick mocha before her boss, asking, "Ready?"

He nodded, his eyes still on an iPad with the numbers from Friday night. Technology, he thought. Twenty years ago, he wouldn't have had a tenth of this information available for study after a week, and it would have taken his ten times as long to trudge through it, to make any sense of it. Today, though, sliding his finger tip across the screen to review trends and projections, he could tell that last night had been one of the month's better days.

(OOC -- Always remember that selecting a link labeled "music" will bring up music!)

The lights dropped and the sound system fired up -- each a bit less than they would for the 10pm show -- and music, clear and easily listened to because of the club's current emptiness, began playing from hidden speakers in every corner, from floor to ceiling. A beautiful woman took the stage, wearing a long white coat and fashionable, four inch heels. As she struck a pose, the coat opened, showing off a perfect body erotically concealed -- or not so -- in a dark brown net panty and bra set.

Percy was, of course, used to seeing beautiful women -- on stage, on the dance floor ... in his bed chamber -- yet he couldn't help but stare at this one with an intense stare.

The Manager standing behind him knew what her boss liked, and -- assuming a woman who looked like this could dance -- if Percy liked her, she was hired.

(OOC: One stripper comin rite up)

Lust, Saturday Afternoon

Lust strode out onto the stage like she owned it, perfectly poised in her high 7" strappy high heels. Her gold hair shimmered and bounced like a lions mane. She waited as the music started, and slid her white jacket of her shoulders arching her back and tossing her hair. She wound her hips down her arms wrapped around the pole lowering her body close to the marble floor then wound her way back up. She strutted around the pole. Then as the beat sped up she wrapped her leg around the pole winding her body with feline grace. She allowed the song to fill her mind and body and as she did with every performance gave into the sensuality of the music...

Ten Minutes Later

Lust twirled of the pole, landing right foot on the ground, her left leg wrapped around the pole. She leaned back arching her back and blew a kiss. Once the song ended she went back to normal. Her golden tan skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. She slowly redressed and tossed her white jacket over her shoulder: Then turning to the man she tossed her hair and flashed him a killer smile. "So what did you think."

Miranda and Lt Taylor Saturday 4am

((I'm a little confused, there's Percy and the Security Chief --whom I thought was Taylor--of the Real World and then Lt Taylor is a police office. Sometimes it sounds like the Security Chief and the police office are the same person...))



Miranda spent most of the night waiting. That was good. Then she would get paid the minimum and not have to do anything for it. She had met Percy when she and a girlfriend had come to The Real World to party. They had heard about all the titillating goings on and thought it was all hype. But girls got in free and usually could drink for free because there were always men there who would buy drinks for girls. Especially very pretty girls.

As she became more and more of a regular, she ended up in one of the rooms with Percy one night. He found out she was a struggling actress and dancer trying to pay off her college loans and working as a waitress while looking for acting gigs.

Percy made her an offer. She would come to the club regularly, dance with the customers, or by herself, whatever it took to keep the party atmosphere going. Guys would buy her drinks or food. Guys might want to do other things with her--she found out what those private rooms were for, but she could refuse. It was good money, better than waiting tables at a diner. Sometimes she did some exotic dancing either as part of a show or 'spontaneously' to keep the reputation going that The Real World had lots of Girls Gone Wild stuff going on. The dancing made her more money and great tips.

But she still had a lot of debt. Percy made her another offer. It took her a long time to consider it, but it would really pay down her debts and she might just meet someone important that could help her in her career. She hadn't been working the private rooms for very long, long enough to know the rules and what to do in case of an emergency. The security staff in The Real World was top notch so she felt safe, even though it was creepy knowing someone was probably watching her.

The phone in her room buzzed. "Hello?"

"Special client coming up, friend of Percy's. Treat him right. No complaints from this one. At all." Click.

"Okay then." Miranda took a deep breath. So she wasn't getting off easy tonight. She walked over to the wall and struck a pose. All of this was just so much acting. If she framed it that way, it made it more palatable. Besides, sometimes the guys were good looking or good lays or both. Her hips swayed to the piped-in music as the door opened.

"Oh," the Chief said, stopping at the door and turning back. He smiled. "She likes hand cuffs, too."

Handcuffs? Miranda thought. He was teasing, right?

She turned around when the door closed. "Hi, I'm Miranda. What can I do for you tonight?" She smiled at the man, "Officer." She managed to look like and angel and a devil at the same time.

((I'll post a profile later, but I wanted to get a post in. She's auburn haired with blonde highlights. Tall for a woman, 5'7" with 4' heels so she's even taller. Long legs, slender but not thin, a dancer's body. She takes care of herself. Well groomed. And although she doesn't know it yet, she likes, or will like, bondage. Not sure where else that may lead her.))

(OOC -- For convenience, Ivan and Whisper's profiles; pics are below.)



"Sidewalk Jo", Saturday Morning:



Ivan caught sight of Whisper coming down the block and a smile crossed his lips. He didn't know her well -- he'd only seen her in the neighborhood a few times and couldn't remember whether any of those times had actually been inside the World -- but he liked her look and had always yearned to get to know her.

He waited until her eyes fell on him, then gave her a casual wave and, afraid she'd dismiss him, gestured toward the seat across from him and pushed it out from below the table with his sandal-clad foot.

This interaction continues here. Please, come subscribe and read us.

Percy with "Lust"; "The Vegas Strip", afternoon:

Percy watched Annabell closely, his eyes leaving her only once to check the sheet of paper before him listing her stage name, Lust. His gaze moved with her movements, taking in every part of her body as she did her dance. Her dancing was as suitable as her body, both of which had to be perfect to work here. The exotic dancers at "The Vegas Strip" made double to triple what strippers made at the other clubs in town; the clientele of "The Real World" included some of the wealthiest -- and most charitable -- men in the City, men who appreciated a beautiful woman, a skilled dancer, and a possibility -- no matter how slight -- of bedding a woman who could move her body like Percy's dancers did.

As the second song, the one during which Lust began shedding her clothes, neared an end, Percy gestured the department's Manager over, whispering to her as she leaned in.

The music stopped, and Annabell concluded her act, donned her clothes, and stepped toward Percy. "So what did you think?"

Percy said nothing, only staring into Annabell's eyes as the Manager said in a well practiced, matter-of-fact voice, "The pay is as I told you during your pre-interview. Draw in patrons, and you get a five percent pay increase every quarter. One fourth of your tips go to the the Support Staff ... DJ, Wardrobe lady, bartender ... the others that make this place what it is. Any music you want, just ask, and ye shall receive. Any costumes you want, again, ask and ye shall receive--" Here the woman smiled knowingly. "--and we'll take it out of your check at the end of the month."

The manager dropped her eyes to Annabell's glistening body. "Costumes are to be replaced regularly. Regularly is defined by--" She gestured toward Percy, who was still sitting there in silence, his eyes set upon Annabell's face, looking for her reaction to the continuing offer. "No costume is to be worn more than twice a week, nor more than ten times ever. Costumes are not to be traded in whole between girls. Mix and match as you want, but be smart. My advice is ... donate them when they're getting tired." She smiled again, adding, "I hear the girl scouts need new uniforms."

Percy tapped his finger on the papers on the table.

"If you make every shift," the woman continued, stressing, "... every ... shift, on time, you get a fifteen percent bonus in your check. Acceptable?"

Percy cleared his throat.

"Oh, and one last thing. You never ... ever ... date a patron. Five percent of your paycheck ... every paycheck goes into an investment fund that you can cash out when you leave us." Her tone turned serious and harsh as she said, "Fuck a customer, and kiss that money, plus the seven-point-two percent interest it's currently pulling in good bye."

The Manager went quiet, and both of the people before Lust simply waited for a reaction. Percy had little doubt that the woman would take the offer; she'd find nothing anywhere else in this town that paid as well unless it also involved Lust parting her legs for a pole that wasn't made of aluminum.

Of course, as -- for the first time since the music had stopped -- Percy glanced down at Annabell's body, he mused that he wouldn't mind at all parting those long legs himself. He wouldn't, of course -- Percell Darlington didn't sleep with the help; but that didn't mean that while he was with one of his other multiple lovers, he wouldn't fantasize doing so.

Lust-Saturday Afternoon

Lust remained impassive her persona remaining all buisness. The stipulatiOns of working her were insane. She didn't really need the money of course. She had long since made her money at being an exotic dancer. Wither he looks and a personality that even a female lioness would even Lust had no problems drawing a crowd. But beyond her annoyance with the stipulations of her employ she found that she really did not favor the Manager.

None the less, Lust nodded her head in agreement silently acknowmedgong her acceptance of the job. Without another word she turned and strode baclstage. Reaching the dressing room she had left her stuff in Annabell quickly changed into a pair of faded blue skinny jeans that hugged her curves and a low cut white camisole. She pulled her hair up with a white ribbon and traded her strappy heems for a pair of white wedges. She gathered up her things and headed bacl out into the main club.

Annabell almost walked into Percy as she exited the dancer's changing room.

For the first time she heard his voice as he said simply, "That was very nice. You'll do well here. Listen, there was something left out of the job offer that I wanted to ... offer to you ... in case you were interested in picking up a few more dollars on the side."

He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket, but didn't yet offer it out. "I have ... a friend. He not a patron, per se. He has never been here for a show, yet he sees every one of them."

Percy stepped aside, took Annabell's arm and walked her a couple of steps until she was able to see the dance floor and, even closer, the DJ's control center. He pointed; above the DJ's center panel, a professional grade video camera hung from the ceiling. Percy shifted the aim of his extended finger, then again, then again; each time, Annabell found a camera.

"We broadcast every dance," he informed her as he turned her again and, slowly, began escorting her toward the club's exit. "And my friend sees them ... live. There is no taping ... there are no recordings. You don't have to worry about finding yourself on the strippers' shelf of every Adult Book Store across the country."

Percy tapped a code into a panel on the wall, slipped his sunglasses on, and opened a security door; the bright afternoon light flooded in. He pushed the door open, but intentionally stood in such a way that Annabell couldn't get past him without making contact with him. He offered out the card. "If my friend likes your performance ... and I know my friend well, so I can tell you that he will ... there is an opportunity for you to make a significant amount of money giving a private showing. Sometimes it's just my friend ... other times you may be performing for one of his many fraternal organizations."

Percy stepped aside, giving her free access to the sidewalk. As the sun fell on her perfect form, just for an instant he wondered whether sleeping with the help really was such a non-starter after all. He finished with, "What I can tell you, Annabell, is this: you can double your salary through these ... private performances. And--" He took a moment to look back into the building, not wanting any of the others to hear his very inappropriate suggestion. "--if you aren't adverse to ... well, let me put it another way ... reminding you, of course, of what was said earlier about fraternizing with the patrons. My friend..." Percy shed his glasses, squinting his eyes against the sudden flood of light into them. "As I said ... he's not per se ... a patron."

Annabell and Percy-Saturday afternoon. 'Vegas Strip' exit

Annabell studied the man, her eyes scanning his face. She took the card from his hand and held it in her fingertips. She closed her eyes, slipping back into her work persona of Lust she considered the deal. Lust tapped her long elegant fingers against her lips. She flipped the card over twice in her hand. She sighed and slid it into her pocket.

"When do you need me to preform for this...friend of your's?" she said. Casting a quick glance down at her phone and brushed past him, her bust and hip sliding over his form as she slid past him. "I'll so it. Just call me to tell me when."

And with that she headed of to go on about her day. This job was just getting mire and more intresting. Now more than ever Annabell was glad for her fearless alter ego.

Percy and Annabell; "The Vegas Strip", 1am Sunday:

The strip club's Manager checked the Ladies' Dressing Room, signaled Percy, then departed. He entered to find, as expected, every breast and promise land appropriately contained; despite having seen each of these women naked or semi-so on the stage at one time or another, Percy had never seen so much as an exposed nipple off the stage and intended for it to remain as such. Even exotic dancers could file sexual harassment suits, he knew.

He joked and teased with the girls as he made his way to the end station. "You were very popular tonight, Annabell. Lust is very popular with the men ... and lust should be, yes?"

They chatted a bit about her performances, discussed costume and music options, and -- all the while -- Percy was casting his gaze about to the other girls, giving them the look. Soon, he and Annabell were the only two in the dressing room.

"I wanted to talk to you about ... our little talk this morning," he said, very businesslike. "As I said ... your performance was very popular with the men ... one man in particular."

He set a sealed envelope on her makeup station's counter, tapping a finger upon it where he'd written a time and date, Sunday, 6pm. Then, smiling and complimenting her again, he turned and was gone.

He never opened the envelopes, of course; what was in them was none of his business. He had a short stack of them inside his safe upstairs, and periodically -- usually once a month, sometimes less if his friend's health was a bit shabby -- a courier came around with more.

But it didn't take an idiot to guess what was in them; and, to be truthful, one of his former dancers -- a woman who given up dancing to become Percy's lover for a time before relocating to take care of her ailing mother -- had once told him what was inside the envelope Percy had given her years earlier for very much the same purpose: a business card for a local limousine company, with the name of a specific, very discreet chauffeur; a security key card that would get her inside the building which only that very discreet driver knew the address of; a second business card for a high-class Victoria's Secret-like lingerie shop; and an American Express credit line card with a thousand dollar balance on on it.

Percy had always wondered what would happen if one of his friend's chosen play things had decided not to take the opportunity, a question that was answered for him by that same woman whose time between his sheets he missed so terribly these days. In the envelope as well -- the portion of the package that comprised most of its bulk -- was a short stack of hundred dollar bills, ten of them Percy thought from the feel, with he'd been told a simple, short note that said, "If you choose not to come, the cash and my best wishes are you. The rest is to be returned to Mister Darlington."

As Percy returned to his booth in "The Vegas Strip" for the rest of the 11pm show, he smirked as he considered Lust -- who was on next -- and the fact that if she decided not to go, she would be the first in over ten years of his management of "The Real World".

Percy, in his office; Sunday afternoon:


Sunday was Percy's Friday, the beginning of his weekend. He came in midday, checked a few numbers, put out a few fires, passed a few commands, patted a few backs ... and then it was off to the Country House.

He usually made the trip there alone; no employees of "The Real World" had ever been to the rural estate; and, while he had thrown many a party and bedded many a beauty in what he called his apartment -- the condo occupied most of the World's top floor -- very few had ever taken the drive out to Shadow Brook. It was his haven away from all of this, and -- after spending an four or five fourteen to sixteen hour days ensuring that the World operated effectively, a haven was exactly what Percell Darlington needed.

Lust, Personal Room 5pm Sunday:

Lust sat in front of her mirror, brushing her soft gold hair under the soft light of her vanity. As usual she had applied the barest make-up to her soft skin, she found her natural beauty more appealing than some made-up person. Her character as lust was enough of a costume. Annabell was a valley girl, shy and soft. She had begun working as an exotic dancer years ago. It paid well and it allowed her to di something she loved. But still, the introverted Annabell could never have done half the things she did on-stage and so she'd buried herself in this bussiness persona of Lust. Fearless and confident she always got the job done. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

Her eyes landed on the envelope and she pucked it up once again. She had already called the limo service and according to her clock her ride would arrive in a few minutes. She quickly slipped into the new lingere she had brought with the one thousand dollars she had been provided. The set was made of a soft emerald green and was rimmed in soft lace. Over that she slid on a traditional belly dancing skirt with soft dusty green cloth hanging from it instead of bells Tonight she was feeling like a snake...no more like a cobra, beautiful, regal, and deadly. And that was the role she would play, an snake shedding its skin...

She wondered what this night would be like. This would her first private performance, at least of this caliber. She closed her eyes slightly mentally putting herself in her completely buisness mindset. As long as no boundaries were overstepped Lust would do her job perfectly as always.

The buzzer rang and Lust stood. Clicking off the lights she headed off for her big night.

Sunday Evening: Outside Annabell's home:



The limousine pulled up along the curb before Annabell, and the chauffeur -- a beautiful woman with sharp, features and a knowing smile -- asked in a bold, full voice, "Lust?"


(I'm going to start a Side Thread here, for easier reading and writing. Please everyone, follow this link, subscribe to the thread, and enjoy.)

This is an OOC post -- which I don't want to see writers doing, pretty please -- that is being put here in the IC Thread to clarify a few things.

This is not a common RP, with a story line that everyone must be caught up on in order to write; or continuing characters with intricate backgrounds and histories that all the writers must again have memorized.

We are just characters entering a Night Club or sitting down at the coffee shop or laying a bet at the Sports Book. When your character enters, he/she starts his/her RP ... right then and there!

So, drop in and have fun!

Now, in the future, OOC comments like this will not be put here, so I hope that everyone currently subscribing to this IC Thread is also subscribed to the OOC Thread and Profiles Thread.

There are some guidelines that will help you have fun, and I will put them here ... just this once. (These are also available in the OOC.):

1. Please don't be Invisible when you are here. The whole idea is to announce your presence and availability by: First, posting either a long or short reply in the IC thread (which other writers will see); then, waiting for someone to see your reply and come interact with you.

2. At the top of your reply, put your Character's Name, where he/she is, and the time and date. And if you know how to do it, put a link to your character's profile as well, so others can go straight to it and see what the heck you're all about. Here's the way I do my replies (when I remember to do it):

Percy Darlington, "Shakers"; Saturday, 2am:

--- Now, everyone knows who I am, where I am, what time it is, and -- after reading my reply -- what action I'm available for.

3. Give some kind of hint as to what action it is that you're after. If you don't care, then this isn't important; but if you are looking for conversation or sex or what ever, it helps to know. What I do -- again, if I remember to -- is put an OOC comment at the bottom in bold, indicating what's what.

4. If you do post a Character and/or Writer Profile, do me two favors:

--- First, update it with any information you want others to know before they ask to collaborate with you. If you put in there that your Character is a virgin looking to loose his/her cherry and, indeed that happens, then you need to update that. Or if something major happens -- you have sex with Percy or get a job at "The Real World" or what ever -- that you want others to know, put it in there.

--- And second, check the Index in the Profiles page a day or so after you have posted your Profile(s) and make sure I have put a link there. If I haven't, please PM me.

5. Once you have made a "connection" with another writer, if you want you can go create a Side Thread -- just my terminology for a separate IC Thread -- where just you and that writer can exchange replies. It is not necessary to do this. I do it sometimes because it's easier to both write and read a conversation or sex scene if you don't have all the other writers tramping over your exchange. For an example, select this link, which will show how I took a conversation between two Characters away from the Main IC Thread. When the conversation is completed, the final reply will include a link that will take readers right back to the above reply, so no one misses any of the main IC Thread. Cool, huh?

6. One last thing, please do not have OOC conversations in the OOC thread. If you want to discuss a possible collaboration with another writer, PM them. Do NOT post back and forth messages in the OOC or -- god strike you down -- in this IC Thread. It makes it very, very difficult for people to find important stuff if you have been chatting it up in the IC/OOC threads. If you have questions about a writer's character, PM them; and if you are that writer and you keep getting asked the same questions over and over, you need to include that information in your Profile.


Thanks

Tee

Aliza & Mary Ann, Friday, 12.05am:

Aliza and Mary Ann are in "The Real World" for a girls night out. Mary Ann heard about that new place opening and dragged her friend with her. Aliza wasn't sure about going out, as she is married, but Mary Ann assured her that there was nothing wrong about it, that she deserved having some fun as her husband is on a dinner party to celebrate winning an important case. So finally Aliza agreed and followed her friend downtown.
They have decided to dance until their unaccustomed bodies can bear it. But first, they think about having a drink in the bar.

Bonnie in the Espresso Bar

No one seems to be writing anything anymore here. It's a shame; this really is a great idea.