Beauty and the Beast

[chanaud]

This is an exercise thread open to all. You have the freedom to create your own storyline and character with a partner or by yourself using the premise of the classic storyline tale - Beauty and the Beast, using any time period.

The only rule I have is to – have fun! I hope to see a lot of creative minds here.

 

[chanaud]

Beauty at First Glance

will be played by Ariosto and myself.



Thank you, honey. I’ll see you same time next week.

She whispered breathlessly though heavily lidded eyes before his lips and gave him a farewell kiss, a reminder of the good time he just had. When they separated, he turned away quickly and was out the door in a flash with barely a wave. Only then, did Cherry’s wide smile fall and her body slumped in relaxation of being alone again.

Her tired legs carried her slowly to the bathroom. He was a brute this week, more so than the others. Week after week, it was the same position. All he requires of her is to be able to take her furiously from behind, to fuck her relentlessly. He told her once his wife will only have sweet, slow missionary lovemaking with him. After a year, he craved something else. Instead of approaching his wife, he decided to seek it somewhere else. It’s easier this way, he said. Cherry didn’t understand it. She didn’t question him. She smiled sweetly and nodded in understanding at all the right moments. Being the professional that she is, Cherry assumed the position for him. After all, that is what he paid for.

It’s the same story. After ten years in the business, Cherry had built a clientele that afforded her a lifestyle she’s grown accustomed to and most important of all, her independence.

As her nimble fingers felt the temperature of the water streaming from the taps, Cherry’s mind reeled trying to recall her next appointment. She never wrote anything down. It was safer. The wrong hands could land her in jail. Only when she decided her afternoon free, she sank in the deep bear claw tub and sighed aloud at the instant relief of the warm tepid water on her abused body. Slowly, her head settled back and allowed her thoughts to drift…

Buzzzz…Buzzzzzzzz

Cherry woke with a start causing a splash of cold water to spill over and onto the worn wood floors. She grabbed her worn silk kimono and allowed it to fall freely down her long limbs and over her lithe body while she rushed to the infuriating invasion of her serene state.

On her tiptoes, she peeked through the peephole and gasped. There standing on the other side was the most handsome man dressed in a dark suit. While one ocean blue eye remained on the magnified figure, her hands tied the sash into a tight knot then flew up to finger her hair into a respectable style. Only after she breathed in deeply, did she call out.

Hello?

 

[ariosto]

"Cherry?...
"Cherry Lake?"

His voice was smooth, without accent but with more than a touch of anxiety.
She blinked mascara out of her eyes and looked again.
He had black curling hair, cut short over a high brow. Eyes a clear and guiless blue, rather like her own. Straight nose, strong jaw good tan. Dressed well, sports coat...tie...broad shoulders...VERY broad...He looked like a Notre Dame quarterback in his Sunday best....going to Mass.
She giggled.

"Maybe I have the wrong address...I'm sorry, I.."
She cleared her throat to get the cobwebs out and gave herself a quick look up and down...presentable.
Cherry just hoped she'd been able to wash all the bastards 'funk' off her body...wasn't often she did her 'Johns' back to back.

"NO!...no you have the right address."
She fumbled the lock open, and peered over the chain. He was tall and he was young.
He had her by eight inches, she had him by eight years...at least!

"I'm Cherry."
She said and swung the door open.
"What can I do for you?"
His eyes ran over her thinly veiled body and came to rest about three feet over her left shoulder.
He blushed and held out a piece of carefully folded paper.

"It's from my Uncle Al,"
He stammered.
"He said that you'd know him, he always comes by when the Michigan Car Dealers Convention comes to town. He..."
He'd shifted his gaze to her breasts.
"He said you'd show me a real good time."

She took the big hand suddenly thrust out at her and shook it.
"My names Oliver, Oliver Adams."
He smiled. He had great teeth....

 

[Lady_Kit]

Vintage Beauty & the Heart of a Beast

“Beast!…Beast! Get you’re ass out here. What the hell is takin’ you so long? You’ve got a customer out here! Goddamn vets. Think the world owes em somethin’ jus cause they served their country, and let me tell ya, fuckin special forces is the worst!”

The grimy man behind the high desk of the shop office spat into a tin can on the stained surface and gave the customer a smile that showed the many gaps between the few teeth left in his large mouth. He wiped a dirty hand across his rubbery lips, smearing into the scraggly beard the tobacco brown spittle that hadn’t quite made it from his lips to the improvised spittoon. The counter man, his oil stained shirt said his name was “Bill” saw the look of dismay on the face of the new customer and hastily began to list the skills of the, as yet unseen, Beast. Finally, when Beast failed to appear, Bill made a suggestion.

“Look, why don’t you just go on back to the shop. Ain’t nobody back there cept Beast. Just talk about you car and Beast’ll soon pay attention. Go on now, right through that door.”

Bill pointed to the door in the back wall of the office. A dingy frame that might once have been white, but was now varying shades of black, gray, and brown surrounded the opening. The space beyond was dim and quiet. Not at all what one would expect to see, although the customer had no clear idea of what might go on at a place like J & L Restoration. The only thing that was clear was that “Beauty” a lovely vintage automobile, was in desperate need of repair and restoration. According to members of the vintage car club, the only person capable of proper repair was an individual of dubious background, who answered to the name “Beast.”

OOC: A play of words for Lady Kit & Darrenfate.
My thanks to Chanaud for providing yet another unique premise for a thread.

 

[darrenfate]

Lamar

He won then he'd bought it.

Every deal had a trophy. It was a simple rule that he had made himself live by since his early days as an investment banker. The just completed merger of equals had been difficult. Lamar had brought the two CEOs together by sheer force of will. Damn, he was good.

His partners at CSFB often said that he if he would only work harder he could be the greatest M&A guy on the planet. Fuck them. He had other interests. Work only served to make him money. And a great victory deserved a great prize.

The 1967 Aston Martin DB6 Volante was an ex Earls Court show car. It needed extensive restoration to get back to concours condition. Lamar could hardly wait to get behind the wheel at the track.

Now he stood at the only place in the city worthy of his trust, J & L Restoration. It came highly recommended by a colleague. Especially "Beast". A true metal marvel he had said with a grin. Well Lamar only wanted the best for his new toy, and some ex special forces guy named "Beast" just seemed to fit. So he waited patiently, until the guy was free.

After about ten minutes, a greasy mechanic rounded the corner rubbing the grime off an already blackened rag. The trouble was he was a she. Lamar for the first time was so surprised he was rendered speechless. "Beast" looked at him with amusement as he finally managed to croak a feeble -

"Hi"

She let him squirm for a full minute. Oh boy, things just had to get easier from here ......

 

[Lady_Kit]

Beast

Beast caressed the fender of the Sunbeam Tiger. No distortion could be felt in the smooth finish, and not even the closest examination of the new paint job could reveal where the repairs had taken place. A grunt of approval for the painter was all the praise given, but it was better than the man had hoped to get. God knew what could happen to a man who did a half assed job on one of the cars that Beast was in charge of restoring. They had a saying in the shop that only God knew the worst, cause anyone who failed Beast was never around long enough to talk about it.

You guys did a good job. Now, get this baby delivered, and make sure it's detailed on-site. Then you can take off.

Beast looked at the surprised crew. No one moved.

Have you all gone deaf? I said move it and you'd better do it before I change my mind. God knows you jerk-offs don't deserve a break. Probably make you think I'm goin' soft.

The final comment broke the stillness of the three-man crew and more than one let out a loud guffaw. Pete, the short swarthy painter spoke for the rest as he watched the gleaming vehicle go into the transport trailer.

"Don't worry Beast, ain't a man here thinks you're soft. Hell we all know you eat nails for breakfast and piss gasoline. I just hope someday I can be half the man you are."

He laughed at his own joke and joined the other men in the company truck. As they pulled away, no one looked back at the small figure standing alone in the doorway of the garage.

She hated to see the end of a job. She was only truly happy when she worked with the cars, recreating the beauty of a fine finish, smoothing out the classic lines and elegant profiles. After a job was done, there was emptiness in her life until the next one came along. The thought of the next car reminded her that Bill had been yelling his head off about a new customer.

She left without even a glance in the mirror that hung over the sink in the shop. If she had looked she would have seen the same short brown hair that she had worn since she joined the service and large blue-gray eyes evenly set in a plain face, but she didn't look; Beast had long since lost interest in her appearance. She grabbed a shop rag on the way out and rounded the building. The customer was waiting outside and she decided, when she saw him, that he looked like something from GQ. Probably some playboy that didn't know one end of a wrench from the other she thought.

"Hi."

He said. His stunned face was proof that no one had warned him about her. Amused at his discomfort, she finished wiping her hands, and extended one as she spoke.

Hi. Names Beast, what can I do for you?

 

[chanaud]

Beauty at first glance

Uncle Al sent him, eh? Her eyes turned into a dark sea while she eyed him up and down taking in his ultra conservative, very expensive suit. Oliver didn’t look the type. He was too clean cut, too innocent for such acts. Still she stepped back allowing him to step into her tiny apartment and closed the door.

She took the note and opened it. The note contained what she had expected.

Ace of spades

“Can I fix you a drink?”

Cherry kept a full bar for her special customers. If Uncle Al sent Oliver that meant he would pay dearly for his needs, in turn that meant he was a special customer.

“No thank you. I don’t drink.”

She looked at him oddly. Not a drinker?

“Come. Sit down.”

She indicated to the camel leather sofa while she sat across it. A left leg crossed her right knee making the robe split in half revealing a milky white lean leg. His nervous eyes
flickered back and forth and everywhere but on her. Her Anglo nose crinkled at the acidic scent emitting from him in full force.

Again she thought. Odd. He doesn’t fit the stereotype.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Anything.”

Dead silence. His eyes finally met hers. Cherry shifted her legs. He followed every movement. Still silence.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day, honey?”

 

[ariosto]

Oliver


Oliver seemed uncomfortable, as though he were in a police interrogation room rather than a callgirl's bedroom...or maybe it was the being here in that bedroom that made him nervous.

"Nothing much to tell."

"Huh...?"

"You asked how my day went....nothing much to tell.
He managed a smile and stood up.

"Uncle Al said you charged four hundred dollars for a night, I have the money...thought you'd want cash."
He pulled out his wallet.

"Five hundred, sweety...inflation."
She watched as he slipped another bill out without hesitating a bit. There were lots more.

"Now don't be in such a rush!"
She was still sore from the 'Animals' rough attentions and needed a drink badly.
"How about pouring me one then...just some white wine will do.
Overthere in the frig...thanks."

He watched from the corner of his eye as she stood up, stretched and slipped away into the bathroom.
He carefully poured two fingers of wine into a goblet and watched the condensation form on the round glass sides.

He'd never bought a girl before. Al said it was great!...Sex, sex, sex and no strings attatched...well we'll see about that.
He felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about Mary Rogers back home waiting for him, but Hell he needed a little fun before they got married, didn't he?

 

[Phantom42]

Another take, from myself and Along Came Mary

Untold numbers of virgins 'rescued' from their virginity later, Draxx "Lord Beast" Targin was no closer to understanding the sorceress'es curse than the day when she'd trapped him in this twisted form as vengeance for his slaying of her son in a drunken brawl...

A beast ye'd acted, a beast ye'll be, until an innocent's greatest gift shall set ye free!

Hell, he was an educated man; he knew all the old stories and lore of curses. Whenever 'innocent' was used, that always meant a virgin. What more greater gift from such a lass than that maidenhead that made her so? Just in case, he'd deflowered a few male virgins, but that didn't do a thing either. On the latest anniversary of his accursing, he'd left a string of very surprised young farm animals as well, but still to no avail.

For all his might and wealth, nothing could shed him of the leonine taint she'd cursed him with. His head was that of a proudly-maned lion, his hands and feet were taloned, and his body was covered with fur... he even had a tail which twitched when he was angry, signalling his courtiers to find urgent assignments elsewhere.

"My Lord Beast!" the exhausted messenger called, gasping for breath, then paling in wide-eyed shock at what he'd just said. The audience chamber hushed as all present held their breath, waiting for Lord Targin's reaction to this justified, but very annoying name. Their master, growling softly, looked down to the messenger. "Son, your news had bedamned well better be incredibly important and very good, else your tripes will be decorating the middens... after a lengthy stay with the torturer."

"My... my... Lord T-t-targin," the young messenger stammered, "the rumours of a young sorceress were true! She has been found!"

 

[chanaud]

A <bump> for my special friends and anyone else who would like to join in.

 

[shereads]

Nothing to contribute yet Chanaud, but I'm bumping your thread because it deserves to be noticed.

 

[Why]

The Weatherman.

.......

 

[chanaud]

Cherry Lake with Oliver

He was going to be a rough one. All of Uncle Al’s referrals were. Cherry sighed in the mirror, and wondered if she could had the energy for such acts. She was, after all, tired from the animal.

Then she recalled his nervousness, and how easily he laid out the extra hundred. The fee was only four hundred. She was only testing him. He’s green. Very green. Probably his first, she mused. She was sure she had a handle on him.

She washed the last john’s funk from her. And douched for extra insurance. Her cleanliness was what made her different. And she was able to handle any beast that crossed her path.

The same silk robe returned. She smelled her armpits. It still smelled clean. Her pussy was still wet, and squeaky clean. She was ready.

He saw her and stood up. What a gentleman.

“Enjoying your drink?” She purred. The long silk robe followed her languid stride. Her hips were swaying like a pendulum. She was ready for action.

“Honey, where do you want to start?”

“Huh?” Is she serious? He has options? Uncle Al hadn't mentioned options!

“In here or in the bedroom.”

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

.......

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

.........

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

.........

 

[ariosto]

His eyes darted to the shadowed door of the inner sanctum and back again. He took a drink...
"Okay."

"Okay what sweetie?"
Cherry was beginning to wonder if Oliver was missing a few parts.
She did notice...professional curiosity...one psrt very much in evidence and becoming more so by the minute.

"Here we can start here...that's fine. Yes, right here."
He patted the couch beside him and gave her a nervous smile.

She couldn't help but laugh at his naiveté but was careful not to embarrass him. She slipped down next to him smooth as a panther and placed her right hand on his lap, gently squeezing the tell tale bulge.
"You seem very eager Oliver. Is this as pretty as I think it is?"
She leaned so close her breath fanned his ear. Her long legs crossed revealing smooth tan thighs through the high slit silk of her gown.
She expected him to blush, to fluster at her boldness and was surprised when he lifted her hand away, unbuckled and unzipped, then laid her hand back down on the thin cotton covered bulge beneath his shorts.
It was much harder when she squeezed this time, her fingers slipping nearly around it, and in truth it was or seemed to be as hefty, long and smoothly arched a specimin of cock as she'd seen lately.
She was curious.
"May I...?"
She looked at him with luminous green eyes and her fingers slipped beneath the waist band of his briefs.

"I want to see your breasts first."
He countered.

How formal this all was, compared to the Animal. Cherry slipped the robe off her shoulders, hoping her last client had left no bruises.
Oliver whistled, "Very nice, Uncle Al said you had the finest tits of any whore in the City."
She bridled at that but stopped herself from becoming angry. She was a call girl not a whore, but this guy probably didn't know the difference...and he did have a lot of money.

"Thank you Oliver," she cupped them in her palms, two small but firm and roundly perfect breasts, eached capped by a pale rose nipple.
"Would you like to taste them?"

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

.......

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

........

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

.......

 

[darrenfate]

Lamar

Lamar paused for a long time <it felt like a full 10 months> before he answered the question "Beast" had asked. What did he want? Hmmm. Well at first he had come into the yard solely looking to have his newly purchased Aston Martin completely renovated. He could tell though that underneath the grease and loose fitting overalls was a woman of great contrasts. If cleaned up, this woman had a killer body. Then again she could probably - no check that - certainly kick his ass if provoked. Better to try and stay focused on his original mission.

She needs work, and a lot of it. I can see the exterior flaws but I'm counting on you to make sure she is perfect inside as well as outside. This place - actually you in particular - come with the highest reputation for great work. Money is not an object, just make her right and I'll be happy.

Lamar thought to himself - what the fuck was he thinking? Money is no object? Good negotiations skills pal, you just better hope that your friends at CSFB don't ever hear you said that. Your reputation as a hard ass would be permanently damaged.

Sheepishly glancing up at "Beast" he was glad to see that she was totally ignoring him, instead she walked slowly around the car her hand every now and then lovingly gliding over the hood. She bent over to check out the undercarriage and Lamar could not help but imagine that ass in the sheer black dress so favored these days by his female colleagues.

After a long time, she finally stopped. Straightening, she looked him in the eyes.

Well?

His question lingered in the air ...

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

...........

 

[Lady_Kit]

Beast

She moved around the car, touching here and there, feeling for body putty and the tell tale signs of rust beneath the paint. Beasts’ initial impression of the owner suggested that he wouldn’t know a decent restoration from a shoddy one and his assertion that there were exterior flaws was an understatement. She could feel body rust in several spots and knew that were probably a dozen more that she couldn’t see. A quick glance around the lot told her that he’d been able to get the car here under its own power. That was a good sign and would make her job easier and his bill a little lighter.

She looked at him, taking note of the broad shoulders, trim hips and flat stomach. He was in good shape, but in the way of a man that works out with weights rather than one who works for a living. She'd felt the softness of his hand when he'd reluctantly taken hers to shake. He had a good face though, strong and decisive, with full lips that made her wonder what it might be like to kiss him."Jesus! where had that come from?" she thought with no small amount of alarm. She really had to get out more if she was starting to fantasize about her customers like this.

“Well?”

His question brought her back to the moment, and Beast was relieved to be on the familiar subject of his car rather than the dangerous area of his kisses.

Where’s she been stored? Barn or garage?

“Garage of course! Who in their right mind would put an automobile like this in a barn?!”

Beast smiled at his naiveté. The smile changed her appearance dramatically, showing off two small dimples in her clear skinned cheeks and adding a sparkle to her eyes.

You’d be surprised where cars like this end up. I did a Bentley roadster once that had been stored in an old chicken coop. Just a damn good thing that the chickens were gone by the time the car arrived.

Beast turned to face her new client; that she would be the one to do the restoration was unquestionable. She had decided as soon as she’d seen the car that she was the only one who would do the lady justice.

This isn’t going to be cheap, and I won’t do a half-assed job. Its all or nothing so you’d better decide now if you’re prepared to go all the way with me.

She closed her eyes briefly and hoped that he couldn’t see the blush that had crept up over her cheeks then mentally kicked herself for her choice of words. Too much time spent with soldiers and mechanics had deprived her of the few ladylike traits she possessed and at times like these she felt the absence of a softer side. With characteristic grit she ignored her embarrassment and faced the handsome owner of the car hoping that he would do the same.

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

................

 

[Why]

The Weatherman

..............