Good at Bad (Closed)

[ForeverIllinois]

My character:

http://i.imgur.com/A2hRYcr.jpg

Name: Denise Smith
Age: 20
Height: 5'9"
Cup size: 32GG

~~~​

I sighed, staring at my bra now lying on the floor. I was now naked, although holding both my breasts awkwardly with my left arm; I almost felt guilty for being naked in the privacy of my own home, can you believe that? I thought about the more revealing bra that I was about to put on and how even though I've owned it (along with the dress that I was about to put on) for about two years now, it'd be the first time that I had it on. I also thought that my bra looked huge, but I guess that it had to be in order to hold my mammoth 32GG cup breasts.

http://i.imgur.com/lsK0fG6.jpg
"Seriously though, it looked like you could eat soup out of these things"​

Right, I should probably tell you about myself. Hi, my name is Denise Smith and I'm a twenty year old...well, twenty year old. I was unemployed, if you could call it that. The point is that I'm pretty rich but I'd be lying to you if I said that that money was rightfully mine. I'm rich because of my father, the business tycoon Patrick Smith. Well, maybe business tycoon isn't the right word anymore, ever since he's moved on to politics.

I can't tell you why he made the move to politics - maybe it was his ego, maybe it was for more money for his oil business, or maybe it was because he enjoyed having power over people. For whatever the reason may be, the point is that he's all over TV now. Interviews, the news, talkshows, you name it. I'd say that I was proud of my daddy but the truth was that I was getting pretty restless about it all. Why was he doing this? Our lives were easier when he managed his business instead of this. No one cared too much about his personal life (or mine) when he wasn't in politics. Ugh, now that I think about it, it probably was for the sake of having power over people. After all, my whole life he used that power over my life.

It all started when it came to my education. I wanted to go to public school, but my dad wouldn't have that - he sent me to a private Catholic school. When I wanted to go to college, he didn't want me to bother; I didn't need to go to school, according to him. I had all the money in the world. When I wanted to date a mechanic that worked on my car, he wouldn't have that - I needed to date a business man, doctor or a lawyer. My dad is actually the one who set me up with my fiance, Mike. Don't get me wrong, I loved Mike. But just the fact that my father is the one responsible for us...well, ugh.

The point is that over the years, even with this obscene amount of money, I've grown a bit of resentment towards my father. Even more now, where I felt I was walking on eggshells for his sake - what with the whole family being under a crazy amount of public scrutiny. I never got to live my life because of him. I never got to experience the wild side of things. Well, all that was going to change.

What was I going to do? I was going to go to a night club for the first time of my life. I contacted some of my friends via Twitter and we were all supposed to meet there at about 9:30 PM. I haven't told them, but I was going to surprise them by actually showing some cleavage for the first time.

My heart raced when I put on my flimsey dark blue bra and panties, putting them on along with this soft Halter style dress. There was a deep cut in the middle, where with my flimsey bra on, all that you could see was the deep valley between my breasts. Well, they say that a picture is worth a thousand words, so take a look for yourself:

http://i.imgur.com/xJmS9ak.jpg
"I'm freaking out putting this on!"

...​

So, the name of the night club was Dominique's. It was located in a secluded Manhattan area; it was a pretty big deal (apparently) but not such a big deal that the media would be on my tail. Once my chauffeur brought me there at around 9:55 PM, I took a look at it and I was a bit underwhelmed. It looked like one of those clubs that they built over an abandoned factory or something (it wasn't really chic. The building felt a little intimidating from outside). Once I got off my limo, I could hear the whistles and catcalls. I guess this really was the wild life.

"Oh my god, Denise is that you?" my best friend Julie called from the crowd "Girl, you look so hot! Come on, the girls are waiting for us inside!"

My heart raced when I followed her in, the loud music and the hint of alcohol in the air...somehow knowing that this was going to be a crazy night.

 

[LitShark]

“I will make America great again!”

The sound-bite was playing over and over, across the top of every news broadcast, every mention of the election season. Great for whom? Keith tried to remember the last time things had been great for him, it seemed like such a long time ago, but it was only a few years back. Keith had made it, the American dream—a software company that he started in his parents’ garage with three of his best friends as executives. Keith was a champion, but after a while, the brick and mortar cost of maintaining a corporate office necessitated letting investors in.

That was when Keith first crossed paths with Patrick Smith, posing as an investor, Smith got his money in and leveraged the finances from within to pave his way for a corporate takeover inside of a year. They harvested Keith’s Intellectual Property and gutted the company’s retirement holdings. Smith’s shell companies made millions by shorting the stock, even as the man himself dismantled Keith’s life work. The stock options all fizzled as the company ceased to be.

One man had single handedly ruined the lives of Keith and everyone he cared about.

In the years that followed, Keith’s wife left him and all of the wealthy friends he’d made in the tech sector abandoned him, for fear that the ugly corporate raiders would turn their sights on them. When the bank foreclosed on his home, Keith made up his mind to seek revenge on the man who had ruined him for personal profit.

The past year and a half, Keith spent alone, drinking heavily and plotting how to get back at the man who had taken everything from him. The filthy motel room in the Bronx had pictures and news-clippings pasted from floor to ceiling, on one wall was Patrick and the other dedicated to his daughter Denise. She at least was something to look at—though she often tried to hide it while campaigning with her Daddy for traditional values. Keith knew that she was the likeliest way to get back at his sworn rival, but at first he’d only considered kidnapping the bitch and ransoming her back to her shit-heel of a father—but now, a better option presented itself. Now that old Patrick was trying to get elected.

The Google Alerts setting on Keith’s desktop told him that Denise was promoting herself on Twitter again, announcing to ten k followers or so where she would be tonight. Keith left his research to shower and shave, he needed to look his best for tonight.

“Yes, hello. I’d like to reserve the VIP lounge for tonight.”

*-*-*​

“Why, if Denise weren’t my daughter, I think I might try to fuck her.”

—Patrick Smith (USA Today 2011)​

http://g01.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB13.BnLpXXXXcyXVXXq6xXFXXXS/5-piece-Ivory-Cream-Bespoke-font-b-Suit-b-font-Men-Handsome-Man-font-b-Suits.jpg

Keith watched from above the dancefloor as Denise and her friends arrived, sipping a tall glass of Scotch, wearing the one bespoke suit he kept from his former wardrobe for job interviews and heiress baiting. He was carrying just about his entire net worth in hundred dollar bills in his wallet, he needed to get her attention tonight—he couldn’t afford to set this elaborate of a trap again. He was quite relieved to see her show up.

Denise was dressed to kill, in a low-cut blue dress that showed off just how blessed by fortune she really was—but her body language seemed to indicate that she was uncomfortable being so exposed. Best not to be the first to approach her. Let the boys harass her into wanting a man.

“Excuse me,” Keith lightly touched the arm of his VIP hostess, “Would you send a magnum of Moet Asti to that blonde girl down there in the blue dress—and if she or her friends would like, they can join me up here.”

“Yes, of course, Sir,” the hostess nodded politely.

Keith went back to the tall window that overlooked the bar and dancefloor, sipping his whiskey as he watched her, waiting to see how she received his gift.

Yes. I will make America great again.

 

[ForeverIllinois]

...So the evening was not going the way that I thought it would.

I kept getting stares, to put it lightly. I knew that my dress was going to have an impact on people, that's for sure. I just didn't know that the quality of the people hitting on me would be so low. The guys looked so...sketchy. I don't know, people with tattoos, cheap suits, smelling like cigarettes - you name it. Those type of people were all over me like moths to a flame. I mean...I wanted to try a bit the wild side of things, but not that badly.

"What was wrong with that guy?" Emily said, laughing as she sipped on her martini.

"I don't know, came in asking me "How much does the polar bear weight?". Ew." I replied and we both laughed.

“Excuse me,” the bartender said as he came close to me, leaning over the counter. I thought maybe I did something wrong by attracting all those losers from earlier...well, at least until he continued talking "Someone ordered this drink for you." and pulled out this wonderful bottle of Moet Asti. I haven't drank much of it, but at least it was quality unlike those beers those weird men kept offering me. "He also said that if you or your friends would like to join him, that he'll be upstairs."

We thanked the bartender and I held the bottle of fine wine in my hand. Emily moved in close and said "You should go upstairs!"

"What? Alone?" I answered back, unsure of what she said. Hell, I was unsure of my own actions. This whole night has not been what I expected - maybe I wasn't cut out for this 'wild' thing. Whatever that is.

"Yeah! At least to thank the guy."

...

My friends somehow convinced me to do it when I was having doubts. I mean, all the guys I've met tonight were pretty sleazy. All I wanted to do was flirt a bit and maybe dance with a guy, but every guy seemed to be just saying weird pickup lines and inviting over to their places. I thought that this would be an early night for me, but thanks to my friends, decided to give this guy a chance. Carrying the bottle in my hands, I went upstairs to look for him.

But where was he? I didn't even know his name.

 

[LitShark]

Keith watched intently as the massive bottle of champagne was delivered to Denise and her friends from his bird’s-eye viewpoint. As he’d expected, there was no shortage of eager but incompetent young men approaching her—each with their eyes glued to her chest as they made their clumsy attempts at getting her in bed. Keith was glad to see that she and her friends were drinking—the more she had to drink before they came into contact, the better his odds of success. It was premature to think about the end of the night at this point, though. There was still so much that needed to go just right.

From above, Keith had plenty of opportunity to eye-fuck Denise’s incredible front porch—while mentally steeling himself against the draw of those plush, chest-pillows. He would distinguish himself from all the rest of her admirers by keeping his eyeball discipline in-tact—no looks below the neck, not even if her tits catch fire—Keith reminded himself.

When the bottle arrived to Denise and her friends, Keith was pouring a fresh supply of Scotch over three perfectly square cubes of ice. Half of the bottle was gone already, he decided that he needed to slow down just a bit, he’d need all his wits about him if he was going to make the kind of lasting impression he was counting on. Keith was disappointed that Denise didn’t look up to see him watching from the VIP area, but she brought the unopened bottle with her as she turned to climb the stairs.

Keith went to the entrance to the VIP area, where several people had gathered, hoping to catch a glimpse of some celebrity who had rented out the VIP for himself—little did they know, it was just an unemployed software designer with less than five-figures to his name.

“Hey!” Keith called out as Denise reached the top of the wrought-iron, spiral staircase, “Over here—“

Keith cut himself off abruptly, nearly calling her by name—that would have been a mistake. He wasn’t supposed to know her, not yet. He couldn’t let her realize how much he knew, lest his darker motivations be brought into the light.

“Over here, Miss,” Keith laid one hand on the shoulder of the bouncer guarding the VIP area, while he lifted the brass hook from its post, pulling back the burgundy, crushed velvet rope to allow her in, “please, come join me.”

Don’t-look-down-don’t-look-down-don’t-look-down… Keith reminded himself as he let Denise into the intimate but lavishly appointed VIP lounge.

“I bought that bottle for you and your friends, you didn’t have to bring it with you,” Keith smiled, looking directly into Denise’s lovely green eyes, “but I’m glad you decided to accept my invitation. I’m Keith Miller, what’s your name?”

Keith replaced the velvet rope behind her as Denise came inside and turned back. He signaled the hostess to bring two glasses for them by holding up two fingers before following her in. The window overlooked the whole club, providing a breathtaking view of the dancefloor and the lights and lasers that accompanied the music. Keith took the magnum from his new companion and broke the gold foil around the cork.

“Make a wish,” Keith smiled, glancing back to Denise’s beautiful eyes—it was easier to keep his eyes off her chest than he’d expected—the gossip rags really didn’t do her eyes justice. Just as the hostess placed two glasses on the table at the center of the room, Keith popped the cork on the bottle, letting a tiny bit of foam follow the cork out, “it’s a sincere pleasure to meet you.”

 

[ForeverIllinois]

“Hey!” I heard someone call me it. It difficult to spot him at first, because there were quite a few people walking back and forth and standing around. I couldn't help but wonder why; the upper floor area right before the area blocked off by a bouncer and some rope, had absolutely nothing. But anyway, I looked for where that voice was coming from, eventually spotting a sharp dresser a few feet away. That must be him!

"He looks successful and cute. I wonder why he's doing here?" I thought to myself as he motioned me over, standing behind some velvet rope. I guess that was the VIP area of the club? Well, it must beat being down there with all those losers. But now that I think about it, I wonder how he even spotted me.

“Over here, Miss,” he said, putting his hand on the bouncer's shoulder, who soon removed the rope. Woah, he must have a lot of influence here. Maybe he was the club owner? No, he was too overdressed for that. Maybe an investor? “please, come join me.”

"Sure." I answered simply with a smile on my face, as I gleefully followed him into an area with a bit more class. Maybe this evening wasn't a complete and utter disaster.

“I bought that bottle for you and your friends, you didn’t have to bring it with you,” he said, staring right at me with some bright brown eyes “but I’m glad you decided to accept my invitation. I’m Keith Miller, what’s your name?”

I thought about coming up with a fake name. What if he knew about my father? I mean, my dad was plastered all over the news recently. But then I realized that my last name was a fairly common one...so, why not? With another smile, I answered "It didn't seem right to drink this without you. I'm Denise Smith, by the way. Thanks for inviting me over here."

I didn't let him know, but I was extremely glad that he sent over that bottle of wine. I wanted to experience the night life and all the fun that blondes apparently have...just not with the weirdos who were all over me ten minutes ago. If it wasn't for this chance, I really do feel like I would have bailed and gone home. I was practically grinning with happiness when the hostess came and gave us some glasses to drink the fine alcohol. From up here, we both had a wonderful view of the dance-floor - in fact, the lights that I found blinding down there were actually really pretty from here.

“Make a wish,” Keith said, smiling and disarming me with that look he was giving me, glancing back to my bright green eyes. I think that he might have been the first guy tonight to not ogle my massive chest; I mean, it was sort of my fault for wearing this dress but still. I appreciated it. “it’s a sincere pleasure to meet you.”

"It's a pleasure to meet you too!" I answered back, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. Wow, what was wrong with me? I know that he was handsome and that I wanted to have a little bit of fun but...how was I crushing over him already?

 

[LitShark]

Keith returned Denise’s radiant smile as he filled both glasses with fizzing champagne. He poured the liquid down the sides of each glass to reduce the amount of bubbles so that he could fill to the top of each in one pour. In total, he was carrying almost ten thousand dollars in drugs on his person, but it wasn’t time for any of that yet. He filled both glasses and set the bottle into the bucket of ice that the hostess had brought with the glasses.

“To new acquaintances,” Keith smiled, raising his glass to gently clink against Denise’s, “and hopefully to a genuine connection.”

While Keith raised his glass to his lips, he slid his other hand around her shoulders, his palm coming to rest in the center of her back, between her shoulder-blades. While he’d been giving his little toast, Keith extracted from his coat and peeled a single, high-potency nicotine patch, which he now placed gently onto Denise’s skin. This was the first stage, the introduction of her first chemical trigger that would keep her chemically dependent on him.

Keith assumed that with the alcohol she was consuming, Denise would scarcely notice the introduction of nicotine to her system, manifesting as little more than a general euphoria in his company. With the patch secure against her skin, he moved his hand across her shoulder blade to gently grasp her upper arm.

“Could I get you anything stronger, Denise? I have a beautiful triple malt Scotch up here, if you’re a fan of whiskey. Or I could order a bottle of Goose.” Keith smiled, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on her lovely eyes, without dallying lower to her chest, “or maybe you’d like to do downstairs and dance.”