Name: Jacques ('Jack') Florien Bouchard
Age: 36
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: French by birth, now living in America
Height: 6' 6"
Hair: Black, long and wavy, usually keeps this in a ponytail
Eyes: Intense blue
Build: Toned and athletic, like a runner's physique
Occupation: Although independently wealthy due to his family's business investments, Jack is an artist by trade and he shows and sells his own paintings and sculptures from time to time at high society gatherings and exhibitions.
2 years ago, Jack went through a very messy divorce after finding his wife of 8 years in bed with 2 other men. (This was resolved about a year ago).
In the intervening time, Jack has thrown himself into his work and his parent's family business. He has also been on quite a few dates, either ones which were set up by his friends, or by meeting people in bars, or from his occasional forays into speed-dating.
Many of these have ended in one-night stands, but he is looking for something more longer-term than a couple of nights.
Jack does still receive calls from these women asking for "return dates" and he often accepts them; not because he thinks that "anything is better than nothing", but in the hope that -in time- one of them might develop into a longer relationship.
=====
After the culmination of yet another of family's Business Meetings, Jack felt that he needed to clear his head.
Taking the keys to his British Racing Green Bentley saloon, he drove away from his parent's mansion into the city centre.
With his family's very wealthy and pampered lifestyle, the City Centre wasn't somewhere any of the others usually had any cause to go to.
However, as an artist, Jack always felt that his talent needed a raw edge to really come alive and he often found his muse whilst travelling around the rain-soaked streets amongst the neon and crazy traffic of the general public.
He hoped that his immersion in "mainstream life" (as it were) gave him and his work a more down-to-earth quality and helpoed him to be more of a "people-person", rather than being like virtually the rest of his family and flaunting his wealth and looking down upon everyone else with scorn.
Lost in his thoughts, Jack suddenly realised that he'd been driving around the city for some time, but found that he'd got lost somewhere along the way and was in a part of town whidch he didn't recognise.
Jack wasn't naive: he knew that there were tramps and beggars in the city streets, as well as ladies of the night and criminal gangs, but he suddenly found that he was in a definitely less well-off neighbourhood.
Not that he minded being there...there were good and bad people everywhere; Jack wasn't prejudiced at all and he didn't judge people by their looks, age, lifestyle or colour...but, then again, he also knew that not everyone was as honest or as friendly as they at first appeared and he resolved to at least kept his wits about him as he drove around looking for familiar territory.
At first, he'd thought that the Bentley would attract way too much negative attention from criminals and car-jackers...until he realised that, looking around, despite the obvious poor housing and run-down look of the area, quite a few of the cars parked by the pavement were expensive marques, so he felt much more at ease.
Although the Bentley was fitted with voice-activated satellite navigation and GPS, it was working only intermittently at best...every time he got his bearings, it would cut out so he only got vague references about his location.
Unfortunately, his strong French accent (which he still clung onto) also did not make things easier for the help with the machine's voice-recognition software either...
Finding a place to park outside a nearby bar, he exited the vehicle and resolved to ask for directions. Driving for some time in the bland air of the car's air-conditioned cabin had also made him thirsty and a bar would be as good a place as any to get some information, slake his thirst and somewhere to pass the time.
From the outside, this bar had clearly seen much better days...perhaps a sport's bar in a former life, it looked dimly lit and uninviting, yet it was the only bar he'd seen for a while and Jack didn't exactly fancy trying to negotiate the busy evening traffic without knowing at least where he was.
Jack entered the bar with a little trepidation...
Age: 36
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: French by birth, now living in America
Height: 6' 6"
Hair: Black, long and wavy, usually keeps this in a ponytail
Eyes: Intense blue
Build: Toned and athletic, like a runner's physique
Occupation: Although independently wealthy due to his family's business investments, Jack is an artist by trade and he shows and sells his own paintings and sculptures from time to time at high society gatherings and exhibitions.
2 years ago, Jack went through a very messy divorce after finding his wife of 8 years in bed with 2 other men. (This was resolved about a year ago).
In the intervening time, Jack has thrown himself into his work and his parent's family business. He has also been on quite a few dates, either ones which were set up by his friends, or by meeting people in bars, or from his occasional forays into speed-dating.
Many of these have ended in one-night stands, but he is looking for something more longer-term than a couple of nights.
Jack does still receive calls from these women asking for "return dates" and he often accepts them; not because he thinks that "anything is better than nothing", but in the hope that -in time- one of them might develop into a longer relationship.
=====
After the culmination of yet another of family's Business Meetings, Jack felt that he needed to clear his head.
Taking the keys to his British Racing Green Bentley saloon, he drove away from his parent's mansion into the city centre.
With his family's very wealthy and pampered lifestyle, the City Centre wasn't somewhere any of the others usually had any cause to go to.
However, as an artist, Jack always felt that his talent needed a raw edge to really come alive and he often found his muse whilst travelling around the rain-soaked streets amongst the neon and crazy traffic of the general public.
He hoped that his immersion in "mainstream life" (as it were) gave him and his work a more down-to-earth quality and helpoed him to be more of a "people-person", rather than being like virtually the rest of his family and flaunting his wealth and looking down upon everyone else with scorn.
Lost in his thoughts, Jack suddenly realised that he'd been driving around the city for some time, but found that he'd got lost somewhere along the way and was in a part of town whidch he didn't recognise.
Jack wasn't naive: he knew that there were tramps and beggars in the city streets, as well as ladies of the night and criminal gangs, but he suddenly found that he was in a definitely less well-off neighbourhood.
Not that he minded being there...there were good and bad people everywhere; Jack wasn't prejudiced at all and he didn't judge people by their looks, age, lifestyle or colour...but, then again, he also knew that not everyone was as honest or as friendly as they at first appeared and he resolved to at least kept his wits about him as he drove around looking for familiar territory.
At first, he'd thought that the Bentley would attract way too much negative attention from criminals and car-jackers...until he realised that, looking around, despite the obvious poor housing and run-down look of the area, quite a few of the cars parked by the pavement were expensive marques, so he felt much more at ease.
Although the Bentley was fitted with voice-activated satellite navigation and GPS, it was working only intermittently at best...every time he got his bearings, it would cut out so he only got vague references about his location.
Unfortunately, his strong French accent (which he still clung onto) also did not make things easier for the help with the machine's voice-recognition software either...
Finding a place to park outside a nearby bar, he exited the vehicle and resolved to ask for directions. Driving for some time in the bland air of the car's air-conditioned cabin had also made him thirsty and a bar would be as good a place as any to get some information, slake his thirst and somewhere to pass the time.
From the outside, this bar had clearly seen much better days...perhaps a sport's bar in a former life, it looked dimly lit and uninviting, yet it was the only bar he'd seen for a while and Jack didn't exactly fancy trying to negotiate the busy evening traffic without knowing at least where he was.
Jack entered the bar with a little trepidation...