Some Less Wise [Eamnonn]

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Her Perdition January Byrnes · Old Town Posts: 17 (3/30/06 11:14 pm) Reply	Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] Hard heels clicked against the sidewalk, a resounding, familiar sound in Savage City when one was wandering the streets alone. Well... if one was female, that is. Then again, it wasn't beyond this figure's experience to have found more than one man in women's clothing. Some people got their kicks that way, but this Old Town girl's expertise ran a little deeper and (in her own opinion) a little more disturbing than transgender sensualities. Some men just prefered their girls a little younger than what was techniquelly legal. The Lolita could provide this service legally, so to speak, since she herself was twenty-two. Well... she'd been performing it legally for four years running now. January Byrnes had been walking the streets of Old Town since she was fifteen. The girl's weren't exactly picky about the age of their sisters, just as long as they knew what they were doing and they didn't rat or sell out. January never sold out to anyone, for anything. Ratting was a filthy thing to do, filthier in her opinion than the services she provided for older men with a taste for those just hitting puberty. A delicate hand reached into her pocket. The jacket was tiny, considering it's owners size; nearly the size of a twelve year old. It was black with thin white pinstripes; very classic, very sexy. Those tiny digits wrapped around a packet of cigarettes, pulling it out so that her other hand could reach around and pluck one of the cylinders from its pouch before returning it to the safety of her pocket. As the girl lit the cigarette, momentarily lighting her pale, youthish face with it's orange glow, a pair of men stepped around her, obviously drunk, obviously looking for trouble. At first, she supposed, they were going to ignore her. Perhaps it was her face that had done it; January, after all, had the face of a growing girl, still in her teens, waiting to grow up. It's what made her business boom; those bawdy old perverts wanted young without the extreme legalities getting involved (as though prostitution itself wasn't illegal... it was just more accepted in this town of sin and savagery), and January could provide the youth without the age. "Hey, darlin', what's the rush?" one of the men slurred, and his buddy laughed quietly, as though this was a joke between only them that she wasn't suppose to get. January kept walking, puffing on her cigarette, and ignored them. If they wanted trouble, she could give them a world of it, but only if they pushed it. She wasn't in Old Town tonight, didn't have the protection of the girls right now, and while January could protect herself just fine, it would be a matter of the cops getting involved. They couldn't touch her for what she was going to do to these guys if they were on her turf; however, January was heading for Dee's tonight for a drink. She'd much rather have a beer with strangers than a beer with her lonesome old self. Besides, she liked to watch the strippers. January, as a rule, didn't have a sexual preference, since such perversions of her trade ran on either side of the batting team. She liked their bodies, so full, so developed, so beautiful. Her own was toned, but still in the appearance of growing. Their's were gorgeous to behold... at least, in her own eye. Two bodies could be felt, almost uncomfortably close, on both sides, and the stink of alcohol was fresh and hot in the chilled night air. Rape would be the least of January's worries if she was a normal girl out here; but January was anything but ordinary. A hand snaked around her shoulders, and January finally bothered to sneak a mockingly fearful glance at the man who was touching her. "Come on, baby, why don't you and me and Grant here go find us a nice little... private place... and you can show us a good time..." A shy smile slipped over her lips, and January's large, dark eyes cast downward a bit. "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," she replied softly, using her light voice, the one she reserved for the men that really liked them innocent, "I've gotta get home and-" One of the men jerked her arm hard, and that was all the incentive she needed. A hand found her breast and squeezed hard as her feet were dragged across pavement, but her attention was solely on where her right hand was. All movement ceased when the man dragging her felt the cold barrel of her Les Baer pistol pushed hard up into his stomach. His hand froze around her torso, and while his little friend kept grabbing at her, too drunk to see that something was obviously going wrong, her other hand shot out and pistol-whipped him across his jaw, knocking his head back and pausing his groping fingers. He screamed low in pain, hands going to his jaw before his eyes shot back to her angrily. If her pistol wasn't aimed right at his forehead, he might have struck her, but he froze in place, fuming but unable to do anything about it. "Let me go, toots," she whispered her order, and the man behind her reluctantly slid his hands from her torso. "Good boy," she said, standing up straight, and before he could react, January turned on her heel and slammed her knee into his crotch so hard she was sure he'd be pissing blood for a week or two. A tiny hand pressed against his crown when he doubled over, and she pushed the man over onto his back. "You gonna shoot me?" the other man asked, and January turned her eyes back to him momentarily, a look of contempt on her features as she watched the dawning realization come sweeping over his face now that he'd been pistol-whipped into sobriety. A shiver came over him, and January smiled softly, amused at his fear. When the violence started, it was often hard to get a man at this disadvantage. She'd done worse to other men before, however, and took a step toward him. He took a step back. January laughed then, high and soft, almost as though hearing a joke from an old friend. The man had two seconds to look at her like she was mad before she struck him again, this time across the temple, and he was knocked over, stone cold unconcious. "Baby, I wouldn't waste my bullets on -your- sorry ass," she replied to his silent body before stepping over him and continueing on her way. The whole ordeal had been silent, especially since she hadn't screamed, and she'd be gone by the time either of them got back to their feet. ----- Loud music. Smoke. The smell of beer and sweat. This establishment was filthy, degrading, and it made a woman feel three inches tall every time a man gave her that long, sideways glance that didn't hide the fact that he was imagining her with her clothes stripped off. January's kind of joint. A petite figure pressed against hard bodies and soft bodies alike, not really paying attention to who she ran into, only minding her ass in case some guy thought she was one of the regular waitresses and decided to cop a freebie. However, it seemed that the air of an Old Town girl never wore off, and anyone who knew the darker side of Savage City knew better than to lay their dirty fingers on this little doll's rear; they'd lose every digit that made contact with her flesh. The cold feel of titanium could be felt through her fishnets, pressing against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and January knew how to whip out that little bitch in less than two seconds and shove it into an offender's crotch. They'd be wise to leave her ass alone. Especially after what happened earlier. Guns tucked safely away, in places better not mentioned, she slipped her jacket from her slender body and revealed her dress beneath. Much like her jacket, it was pinstripes, but with blood red instead of white, thicker as well. The dress was doll-like, as with almost everything she wore. Very old fashioned looking, as though it had been made for dancing in the 40's era, just after WWII. Her legs were clad in fishnet stockings, hitched high up her thighs and clasped into place by pantie gartiers. Tiny feet were clad simply in red stilletto heels; nothing extremely fancy for the feet, just nice enough to accent her slim legs and hips. The jacket was shoved into a booth as she found a seat, and her tiny body followed soon after. Strange to think there'd be an empty seat anywhere in here, but January always managed to find one. She ordered a drink (being a regular from time to time, they knew her face and knew she was legal, though it mostly didn't matter), and dragged on her new cigarrette. The other had been dropped back during that little sad excuse for a rape attempt. Edited by: Her Perdition at: 4/1/06 8:35 pm
Harsh Unclear Eamnonn Darragh · Law Enforcement Posts: 11 (4/1/06 12:00 am) Reply	Re: Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] Another drink had been slipped into the man’s hand, the cool glass feeling good against the heat of his palm. Precipitation dewed the sides of the glass, sweating from the ice within. Music shook the walls, the loud pulsing bass of the beat vibrating the very core of the room. The bar was a relatively placid location for the moment, most couples finding the dance floor a much desired place. Bodies pressed together, movement causing dangerous friction. Drinks were secondary on the minds of most patrons. However, the bar was not a place that was totally shunned. Nay, the lonely man or woman had a chance to meet someone rather interesting at the bar. Everyone who was anyone stopped at the bar first, even to take in the place. There were drinks of various sorts, both alcoholic and non. shoulders. Smoke hung low in the air, and chatter was barely heard over the music. Suddenly he had a craving. He could use a good smoke himself. Not yet. Too soon. The moist glass was raised to plush lips, and a long heart drink was taken, the strong liquor sliding down his throat with no remorse or damaging effect. Refreshing. Sudden shrills of vertiginous laughter caused brilliant blue eyes to shift in that general direction, only to see a man trying to woo a woman at the bar, or a game of cat and mouse between a pair. How amusing, thought he, as a light chuckled shook his vocal cords, lips sealed shut after the quaff of liquor. The clear glass, tinted a bit from the designer’s style of glassware, was placed back upon the bar top, settling with a soft thud. Some people were obviously intoxicated for who knew how long. Some people simply could not hold their liquor. No one could really like the Irish. Known for inhaling the strong Irish Whiskey, a man of Erin’s Island could down a few glasses of the beverage and still retain sober behavior. Now, there were some Irish men and women that could not stomach a glass or two, but that was a rare sight indeed. Eamnonn Darragh rested one bare elbow against the counter top, while his hand bent at the wrist to let fingers dance along the rim of the glass. Of all the places, this had to be one of his favorite, besides a trip to Old Town, of course. There was fun to be had here, and plenty of action for a lonely man. Women, drunk to the point of insanity, could easily be persuaded for a little extra fun in the dark corner. ‘Within Dee’s Crying Shame’, you had decent food, strong drinks, great dancing music, and best of all, a few good corners to have a little make-out section. So he was male, and he had a weakness. That weakness was his fondness for the opposite sex. Eamnonn liked this place not only for the pleasurable company that sometimes had a habit of making an entrance, but it was a place where he could afford to enjoy a night on the town, and not have to worry about expenses. But, what brought an Irishman all the where to this part of the town? Easy, his job. Eamnonn was a police detective, an enforcer of the law. He loved his job not only because of the pay, but it was a thrill to him. The rush of a drug bust, the danger of a robbery. All of it he lived for. What good was living life if there was no form of entertainment to be found? Since he had been a detective, his detailed assignments had been...altered to fit his needs. He let some cases go, for a small fee; especially when investigating a crime in Old Town: where the girls got wild and were the deadliest pistol girls since the American Wild West took charge. They had guns, and knew how to protect themselves. Not many police ventured within the territory of the girls, save those who knew nothing of it. Eamnonn was a regular visitor, informing them that there had been an ‘accident’ some night ago. Normally he dropped it, but not without getting something in return. For his silence, there was a toll pay required, and thus far, the girls had not complained. He knew very well that they could blow his brains out with a snap of a manicured nail, but they tolerated him. Dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, slightly damp from earlier dancing. The detective had been inside the club for at least an hour, and it had been an hour of hard partying. He was young, how could he resist a good slow grind here and there? Muscles under the skin of his well defined arms rippled, exposed by the white wife-beater shirt. Compared to a lot of men within, he was on the thinner side, slender but toned at the same time. A police man had to be in shape if he wanted to be good. The defined torso was rather obvious from the form fitting shirt. Paired with the white shirt were faded jeans, held around his waist with a brown belt. Apparently, he was off duty. Folded neatly on the stool beside him, was his leather jacket, and tucked away in that was his gun. Never did he go anywhere without it. Even an off duty cop was at risk of some sort of crime, with or without the badge to so for it. But the gun was not his only means of protection. Hardly. In the streets, it was never wise to have on type of self defense. Eamnonn believed in physical violence opposed to words. Perhaps he was taking out hidden anger on a criminal when he slammed them upside the wall to cuff them, but that was rough justice. If they could not handle it, then they should not be out in the streets causing mischief. Hidden well inside black miliary styled boots was a knife, extra protection should he be stripped of his precious gun. Long legs hung over the stool and the toe of his foot tapped against the floor, keeping with the beat of the music. The tall glass was lifted to his lips again, and another drink was taken from it. There was hardly a night where he did not come here for a place to relax and enjoy himself. That was the beauty of a club. The door opened and closed frequently, people coming and going as they pleased. Some in twos, some alone. Where they were going did not concern him, and his glass was more interesting than some horny couple. Eamnonn did not give a glance to the entrance door, that is, until she walked into the room. Blue eyes stared, watching that petite form glide across the floor with grace, attitude, and above all: arrogance. The woman walked with pride, and confidence that not many girls could pull off well. She did. Her legs were lean, yet not thin like a twig. Her body had curves, and her face was like a doll. Wasn’t she a sight. Eamnonn blinked once. He blinked again. Then twice more. All movement had stopped, for attention was drawn to her. That face he knew, but the man had a hard time matching a name to it. Where had he seen her before? In this club? Probably. In the streets? Not likely. Rarely did he pay women attention that roamed the streets outside of Old Town. Old Town! That’s it. Ah yes, that doll-like face implanted itself into his memory well enough. The name he knew not, but he had a feeling he would find out today. The girls from Old Town had class, even though they were prostitutes. They were tough, and he liked them like. Fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his own. The paper packaging was a bit flatter from sitting in the pocket for some time, but the goods within were still good. Pulling out a rolled up stick, he placed the end between his lips. The package was placed back into his pocket, and the tender was nice enough to offer him a light. With a few puffs, the tip glowed red orange, and he thanked the man silently. Head turned a bit to glance over his shoulder back toward the direction of the girl. If she was trying to turn heads in her favor, she did just that. There was no doubt about it. Out of the corner of his eye, the young detective caught a few other men looking the woman up and down, licking their lips like a lion eyed the wildebeest before the kill. Eamnonn scowled. He sneered. Damn it if they would get to her before he did. Selflessness was hardly a characteristic he had. A pretty woman like that deserved the best attention: him. The cigarette was pulled out between his lips with one hand, and he grabbed the glass with the other hand. Eamnonn downed the liquor quickly and in one gulp, draining it. He paid the tender for the drink, and picked up his jacket, draping it over his arm. The tall man wove through the crowd of people, swaying and twisting to the new erotic song. His own hips moved to and fro with elegance. The Irishman had an attitude of his own. It did not take him long to reach the table where the girl sit, but he stopped when an older man, at least twice his own age walked up toward her, a drink in his hand. The man’s eyes were fogged with intoxication, and it made him grimace. Striding over to the two of them, he flashed a glamourous smile toward the girl, and nodded to her. Eyes looked her over quickly, before turning to the man. She could not see his face, but Eamnonn fixed the man with a dark glare, his sharp features warning him off. His stance was tall and proud, and every bit of his posture screamed dominance, and a man who rarely did not get his way. The older man looked between the two quickly, before whispering his goodbye to her, and shooting a pitiful glare at the officer. Then, he disappeared into the throng of people. Eamnonn smirked, pleased with making the man leave, and turned back to the baby doll sitting in the chair. Fingers pulled the cigarette from his lips, and a stream of smoke left his lips, drifting into the air. “Mind if I join ya, lass?” He purred, voice thickly laced with his Irish accent. Eamnonn canted his head to the side a bit, studying the girl quizzically, and silently approving her looks. The dress she wore was flattering, and bold. It made a statement, she made a statement. The music still echoed in the background, but for the moment, it lingered in the back of his mind. For the moment, the rather appealing woman before him was his line of focus.
Her Perdition January Byrnes · Old Town Posts: 31 (4/1/06 9:46 pm) Reply	Re: Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] Savage City was home to murderers, rapists, dirty cops, corrupt politicians. There wasn't a single person in this town that hadn't been touched by the filth that its occupants excreted everyday, through violence and sin. It didn't matter how high on the food chain you were, no one was clean. Everyone was dirty, it just depended on the amount of dirt you played in that made one filthier than the next person. The petite Lolita was anything but clean; she'd murdered, maimed, and hurt many men and women alike. She had displayed herself in disgusting positions and been an actress of illegal foreplay. Even January's father and brother were crooked, but at least they tried their best not to be the most corrupt cops in Savage. January could never live up to the expectations that they'd set out for her when her sister and mother died. There was no possible way for her to remain the same innocent girl after that. Rape and murder changed a child forever. Jan had been fifteen at the time, but even now she could say that she was still a child then. She was still a child now, just in a more grown-up body. What was to be said about how January's life had been shaped? It wasn't her fault? She wasn't to blame, she couldn't have done anything to stop the course of events that had taken place and completely destroyed any chance at half-decent normality in her life? January knew all of this damn well, and to be honest, she was bloody well sick of hearing it repeated by every other self-righteous hipocritical Jesus-freak that wandered into Old Town and preached at the girls. It was just regurgitated psychological bullshit. January didn't need those kind of people telling her crap she had already known since it happened. Her mother and sister had been raped in front of her very eyes, and January herself had been molested to the point that it was basically rape anyway. Then, her sister and mother had died, and since she'd been the youngest, January had been sent back to her father alive, physically beaten and emotionally destroyed. Of course it wasn't her fault. Why would January have chosen that for herself? The stupidity of the masses and the shit they spewed from their mouths still surprised her sometimes. Lips, colored red to match her dress, pressed down around the butt of her cigarette, and her lungs inhaled the addictive smoke deeply. Dark hazel eyes looked around the room lazily, not truly seeing anyone or anything but appearing still to scope the room for something. If someone approached her table, January would oblige them. After all, it was her business to pleasure people, not the other way around, and their age and looks didn't really matter. January had serviced a wide variety of individuals, ranging from younger than herself to older than her grandfather. Ugly, handsome, mained, fit, it didn't matter. She'd had them all, through normal pleasures and those that ran quite a bit more over the legal limits. It wasn't her place to be picky; she wasn't THAT good yet. The groups that her name ran through on a regular basis were the kind of people that would pay good money to keep their little excepades out of the public eye. It was one thing to visit Old Town; it was a completely different matter when it was to have sex with underage girls (or at least someone that looked that way). The noise could have put a stopper in any normal thoughts, but January was so used to this atmosphere that it no longer disrupted her thinking process, and her mind wandered as she waited for the waitress to return with her drink. January wasn't stupid or blind; she knew that there was a great many men eyeing her right now, a few less discretely than others. The Old Town mistress of many was pretty, and definitely more extravagantly dressed, than most of the other women in the joined outside of the strippers and waitresses (who sported around the floor wearing little else besides shoes and a thong), but all January was to any of them was a walking piece of sex, someone to be eyed and desired, but for little more than a good fuck with a hot woman. January might have appeared very young, but beneath the clothing she wasn't a child. Fully formed bosoms and a slender waist, she had curves that could be easily hidden by a costume of some kind or another. Women were looking at her, too, but they weren't sending out messages of desire; they didn't like her presence, because it took away from them. The waitress returned with her drink finally, setting it down professionaly before flashing January a lovely smile. The girl was young, probably younger than herself, but January of all people knew best that looks could be deceiving. She was topless, of course, and her breasts were perky, small, with rosebud nipples that reached for the heavens. January's eyes ran over them appreciatively and returned the smile with her own. The kind of smile that was suggestive and playful, it immediately earned her a widening of the waitresses pink lips. It seemed that batting for both teams wasn't just January's field anymore in this pub. The waitress was slender like January, but thicker in the shoulders and around the waist. Jan had nothing against chubby chicks, they were women, just like her, and this one was pretty enough to make up for the extra weight. Her hair was a deep auburn, long but kept back in a tight bun, accenting the sharper features of her freckled face. She wasn't beautiful, but she was far from ugly. Of course, one had to be at least mildly attractive to work at Dee's Crying Shame; at least, if you wanted to be a waitress or stripper. Didn't matter how pretty the tenders were. A conversation might have been struck between the two women, but as fate would have it, someone else wanted January's attention. The waistress turned and disappeared into the crowd as an older 'gentleman' approached from her left, and January watched the girl go with disappointed eyes. For that piece of ass, January would have given her a ride on the house. Not all sex in Old Town had to be business... just most of the time. January had her exceptions, and that little honey would have been one hell of an exception. However, it was not to dwell upon. Perhaps later she'd come back around and then January could make another pass at her. You know, the kind that involves talking and flirting openly. If the older man now standing by her table hadn't come up, she'd have dived right into that, but he was here now and the waitress wasn't, so January would just have to deal. Those large eyes turned to lay their gaze across the man besides her, and she could smell the stink of alcohol on him without even having to bother with his breath. What January wanted to do was gag and turn away, but her professionalism overrode that. She smiled softly at him, a touch of sultry thrown in, and she looked him over. Old and drunk. Not every one was a winner, and this guy was obviously down on his luck and looking to get laid to ease the pain. January was good at reading people... it saved her a lot of trouble when dealing with customers. It was at this time that another man chose to approach, sending her a dazzling smile before looking at the other man. While she could not see his face, January could only guess that he was visually telling the older guy to back off. She watched with an interested eye for detail, and the younger man was handsome, his stance proud and arrogant. Whatever he'd been doing worked, for the older man finally gave his goodbye and took his leave before the winner returned his attention to her, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Mind if I join ya, lass?” January looked him over quickly, from the waist up, admiring his form-fitting shirt and sharp features, before smiling at him much the same way she'd smiled at the older man. "Mmm, a man with an accent," she replied, voice deep but loud enough to be heard over the music, leaning forward against the table with her elbows propped on either side of her so far untouched drink. She placed her chin upon the backs of her folded hands and favored him with a curious glance. "How could I deny that?" She motioned for him to join her. The waitress was put on the back burner for the time being, probably not to be remembered until a much later date. Edited by: Her Perdition at: 4/1/06 9:48 pm
Harsh Unclear Eamnonn Darragh · Law Enforcement Posts: 15 (4/1/06 11:11 pm) Reply	Re: Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] There was no place quite like Dee’s. Everything was good here, perhaps the reason why there were so many visitors. While you had some women venture in, it was mostly full of men, some dancing on the floor and others watching the strip show. Eamnonn would have sat down and join them, but the best would come out later in the evening. For now, the girls that strode out were the new girls, getting their bit of fame. Being that he was a regular customer, the Irishman even knew some of them. They tended to give him a little more than an order of his drink, and he did not mind in the least. The heels clicked against the hard floor, and the assortment of women walked about with drinks in hand, serving orders here and there. In the far sides of the bar, it was not uncommon to see a few of them give a lap dance to some horny bastard. That seemed to make the tips all the better. If he was in their place, Eamnonn would have done the same. However, what he could not tolerate were the men that were too old to be in here and had wives at home. The wedding ring was clearly on their left hand, yet they paid no heed to the poor woman waiting at home with children. What a face she would make when she found out where her husband went off to work. This was one of the reasons why he never tied the knot with any woman. Some tended to think that the band around their finger was like a prison’s cell, and you were bound to her at the hip, obeying orders and answering questions as if you were a criminal. If you did not adhere to her, then you were. Eamnonn liked women, that was simply the way of it. Why bother to make some woman sad because he could not be faithful? While he might have been a man to use people, he was not one to break a vow made. Marriage was a vow, and if you broke it then you had serious answering to. Sometimes he wanted to rush home to that woman and tell her just what her husband had been doing. It would prove to be interesting, that was for sure. A place like this was for the single men in the world. The women here loved to make the men feel better, and sometimes you had the male strippers making the women shiver with pleasure, and the men scowl with jealousy. How amusing the world worked. Like a pendulum swung when force to move, the point of view continued to rock to and fro: women becoming jealous, and then men followed as soon as the shoe was on the other foot. Like a lot of young men, Eamnonn had a hostile temper, and was never a pleasant man to begin with. He did his good deeds, but he also shared in the sins of his generation. But was it really his fault? What else could a poor man do? An immigrant from Ireland could not afford a good job in a nice part of town. Believe it or not, the people always treated foreigners with disrespect, like dirt. So many times had he been mocked here for his voice and his heritage. Moving here was not cheap for him, and to live he had to take the only job he could handle: the law enforcement. Ironically, a man who had trouble with the law began a man to serve under it. It was either that or the military, and he was not about to be shipped off to war for one man’s greed. The Erin Isle son was a man who made his own choice and judgment, and would never die when someone told him to. Being a police officer had its advantages. For one, they had to respect you, and if they didn’t, well by all means you could get rough. If a man cursed your name, you had every right to slam him to the ground and make him take back those angry words. That was a perfect self-justification to make people respect him and give him no cheeky remarks. Never before had he made men quiver with fear or bite their tongues when he walked around. Good or bad, the public had to obey the officer. Those who were worth helping he did not mind. There were times where he had felt good for helping someone and making a difference. It helped his self-esteem rise to a higher level. But that old man. Old. Stinking. Eamnonn wanted to drag him out by his ear and toss him into the streets. What was stopping him? He had the badge. A gun. The authority to do so. But doing that would cause a scene, and he did not want Dee to be griping at him about conduct control. Tight-jawed and hard eyes regarded the man carefully, sizing him up from head to toe. In one move he could have the fat old fart laying face up on the floor, wet with his own alcohol. He could do a number of things, but that would be rash. Now, if the man tried to attack him, that would be different. But still, this old hag should be ashamed of himself. Hitting on a girl that was at least half his age. Disgusting. Distasteful. Repulsing and down right revolting. Eamnonn had his eyes on her first, and that would be the way of it. The man had tried to stare him down, but the police detective was too ingenious to lower his stance or waste words on a poor excuse for a mean glare such as that. That glare of pitiful annoyance was something he was use to, for people never really changed. After seeing that glance consecutively, it got old fast. His blue eyes were colder than eyes, and held a dangerous spark, as if he could instantly strike the man with a sudden blow. Eamnonn did not back down, and all the while his posture was perfectly practice. His ex-pression strong, cutting, and keen. He demanded attention and authority. Perhaps the man could intimidate some naive fool, but not him. Full lips were tight, and his face seemed to darken, demonically. The man was scared of Eamnonn’s silence, the police man could see that in his eyes. Finally, the man had backed down, and turned to make his retreat. To the victor went the spoils. The girl’s attention. The man’s gaze flickered between him and the girl nervously, before bowing out and making his escape. At last the fat man was gone, and his drunken slurred mind with him. As he watched the man go, one of the waitresses walked by, and sent a wink his way. Eamnonn’s lips curled up into a sly smirk, and he raised his chin to the bare breasted woman. His eyes moved up and down her body, taking in the delicate curve of her large breasts, and that wide hip. Only the Lord knew how man children she could have with a waist like that, and a round rear for hands to squeeze. Well, if things did not go so well with the girl at the table, who’s company he had won, then he could take his business elsewhere. The tall Irishman turned around to face the girl seated again. Such a sweet face. Such perfect round eyes and lips. Lips for kissing. The girl was dangerous, and deadly at that. A viper with a bite that could kill. An accent? Oh yes, that accent. Silently he waited for the belittle comments to come from her. Potato Lover here, leprechaun there. It got old, and on his last nerves. But it never came. There were no words of harsh taunting. Did he hear her correctly? She liked his accent? And he thought that women liked the British accents better. Some girls had commented on his accent, true enough, but not all of them approved. That wry smirk spread across his face, and he nodded. Eamnonn slowly sat down in the vacant seat across from her. His coat was draped across the back of his chair. There was no fear of someone taking something from it, for it had no pockets. That had been the reason he had bought the jacket, no one could pick pocket him so easily.“Ver’ simply, ye could tell me ta fuck off, an’ send me on me way. But thanks, ye are most kind ta a poor Irish lad.” And he chuckled. His long legs were stretched out before him, but crossed at the ankle under the table. The cigarette was put to his lips again, and he inhaled, letting the tobacco fumes consume his lungs, before it curled out of his nostrils like the dragons in lore. “If ye dun’ mind me askin’, luv....what’s a fancy girl such as yaself doin’ down in a place like this? Can’t just be me luck.” Eamnonn winked.
Her Perdition January Byrnes · Old Town Posts: 33 (4/3/06 4:24 pm) Reply	Re: Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] Sometimes January envied the girls that owned the stage at Dee's Crying Shame. They were beautiful, desired, but they had the option of who used their bodies and if they were used at all outside of a mere show and tell act. Yeah, it was a fact that more than half of the strippers here gave out maybe twice a night, but still, they had the option. January was an Old Town girl. She had to put out for a living. After seven years in this business, she'd grown numb to the emotional effects it used to have on her, but January had always wanted more for herself than pretending to be in Catholic middle school for some old perverts who had wives and kids waiting at home. She had wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. Look at her now, playing doll for those disgusting old men. It wasn't January's position to be moral, either, but sometimes it snuck up from behind and bit her on the ass anyway. January had amazing self control for a girl in her position, but what she had to do sometimes to earn an extra dollar made her want to gag and throw up all over her customer. Suck it up, Jan, suck it up. Just breath, you can handle it. She had to tell herself that every time. Just breath. It was a calming technique that another Old Town girl had taught her just after she started out and ended up tossing her lunch because she was so disgusted with herself for being such a young whore. Sex wasn't as easy for a fifteen year old as some people might like to think. It ate away at the innocence and consumed the soul. Once you sold yourself for the first time, you'd never be the same again. You were no longer a clean person, you were no longer normal. You had no hopes of a normal life. A girl like the Lolita could never have any hope of finding someone special and settling down like a normal girl her age. Any other life choice, and she'd be in college right now, studying for an English or Art degree. That wasn't where January was, though; she was living in Old Town, by herself, in an apartment building full of other girls just like her. Lost and alone, violent and self-destructive. They sold their bodies because they could not save themselves. In this business, there was no room for self-respect, because no one with any of that would be caught dead selling themselves for money. Besides... what good would January be for marriage? She hardly thought she could keep any man happy for a long term relationship. Yeah, sure, she could cook and clean, but that was only because she wanted to be able to take care of herself. January wouldn't have any regular customers if she brought them back to a filthy apartment for the night, wearing dirty clothes and half fat on junk food from some fast food joint. January was only worth as much as the goods she sold, and since the goods was her body, she had to keep it in tip top shape. Not that she was exactly emotionally healthy, however. January was far from it. And how could someone as unbalanced and unhappy as she was possibly make any kind of decent maritable material? Yes, for most girls January's age, marriage would be the last thing on their minds, and while it certainly didn't control her thoughts at every moment of every day, she could certainly feel bad about it often that she'd never have that chance to know true love. The reason was simple, really; love didn't exist for Old Town girls, it was bad for business. Besides, January didn't think she could be faithful. Sex was as much apart of her personality these days as her childishness. It was intergrained into her DNA, just about. Slender legs uncrossed and overlapped again under the table as her hazel hues danced over her new caller's features. His eyes were blue, but in the light of the pub, it was hard to tell exactly how striking they would be in real sunlight. In the dimness surrounding her table, they appeared murky but shimmering, like a pond in winter. Very icy, very cool, very intriqueing. That was only his eyes, there was more to look at, which she took advantage of as he stared down the older competitor. To be honest, once this younger man had approached, the older 'gentleman' was no longer an item to be considered. If the younger one was looking for a good time as well, it would be him she'd be giving it to. After all, she sold her body, but at least she could choose to whom. Her eyes scanned him when he looked away; lean build, sharp features, almost dashingly long hair. HIs shirt fit his upper torso quite nicely, and already January could imagine running her hands over the muscles that lay beneath. It didn't take long for the first man to give his leave and disappear. January had watched all this with a mild interest. It wasn't the first time two men had given each other the stare down over her. Hell, she'd had men start fist fighting over her attention, and while that had been somewhat alarming, it had also been highly flattering. In this case, it seemed however that no violence would occur on her behalf, which wasn't disappointing but could have been amusing. What was really amusing, though, was the fact that not two seconds after the fat man walked away, a waitress slinked by. January wasn't blind, she wasn't unaware of the flirtatious air with which she'd sent that wink. It didn't bother January. She wasn't jealous by nature, and of course, it would be extremely silly to be so jealous of that kind of hussy about a man who she hadn't even spoken to yet. If January couldn't satisfy him, than that girl could take her own chance, because if January couldn't do it, no one could. That's how much convidence she had in her skills as a hooker. It said alot about her ability to try and make the best of things, though she was still unhappy. She of course won the insignifigant fight for his attention, and January watched him turn and look her over again as she offered him the seat for which he'd asked. He must have liked what he saw; January could see these things in men's eyes, it was her business to know what they wanted and he obviously was interested in her. She watched him sit, placing his coat on the back of the chair before returning those icy blue eyes to her. “Ver’ simply, ye could tell me ta fuck off, an’ send me on me way. But thanks, ye are most kind ta a poor Irish lad.” January smiled softly at that, downcasting her eyes for a second or two before looking at him again. "Now, why would I go and do a mean thing like that?" she replied amusingly, "I couldn't just let such a handsome man as yourself walk away when I need a drinking buddy." January had a way with words, it was true, and the spin she'd put on these was both inviting and honest. She did need a drinking buddy, and he'd make a fine one, being Irish. “If ye dun’ mind me askin’, luv....what’s a fancy girl such as yaself doin’ down in a place like this? Can’t just be me luck.” January took another drag on her cigarette and a sip of her drink before answering. "Oh, I don't know, even a gal like me likes to have a strong drink and meet interesting people. Tell me, hun," she said, leaning back in her seat, "Are you interesting?" Edited by: Her Perdition at: 4/3/06 4:31 pm
Harsh Unclear Eamnonn Darragh · Law Enforcement Posts: 23 (4/21/06 11:12 pm) Reply	Re: Some Less Wise [Eamnonn] Moving here of all places was something different and new to him. The life of an immigrant was not so easy in a new place. All he ever knew was Ireland, and the slums there. Pubs were rough back in the old days of Erin’s Isle, you really had to be tough in those pubs. Men were rough, the women were tough. Everyone knew how to fist fight, curling fingers to form a hard blow to anyone it willed. Men fought over women and drinks, and the woman fought of the drunken male advances. One thing that the foreign Eamnonn did notice when arriving in the violent city of Savage, and that was that the name fit it perfectly. Any son of Ireland would not feel too out of place in a city like this. Eamnonn liked it, as a matter of fact. The thrill of slamming someone to the ground with sickening force was some new form of pleasure that he never knew back home. People respected the man in uniform, that is, if he was on their side. There were many a officer that he knew a traitor to the force, and a man with a bad name. It was true, that every man had their price. But, it was not just money that had interested him, at least, not in cheap paper or a circular disk of metal. No, it was always something a bit more...rewarding. From time to timed it varied, just like his mood. Some nights he wanted nothing, and other times he wanted a good time in bed with a woman. Currency was welcomed too, that was not completely turned away. What some people failed to realize in this town, was that there were times when a cop could be good or bad. Women here at Savage City seemed to like the ‘bad boy’ costume. They wanted trouble, and those ruby lips stretched in a wry grin at the merest hint of mischief. The high heels stroke spars of fire with each step behind them. The women in Old Town were not as helpless as you thought, not in the slightest. Girls were the deadliest creature here in Savage City, just not here in Dee’s place of worship Just look at the place. The bar, the women, the drinks. Dee’s place reeked of sex, drama, and of course, the best alcohol that money could buy. Everything had an irresistible taste to it, one that was addicting and always made you come back for more. Here, Eamnonn was a regular customer. After a long day at work, it was nice to sit down at a place where you knew that you would never be lonely. A girl serving fries noticed you and sent a wink your way. Their tapping heels against the hard wood floor was like the ticking of a time bomb, ready to go off at any moment. But the girls here were soft, they took pity on the older men that came in and showered them with affection more lewd than the imagination could think up. An Old Town girl would never lower herself to such ordeal. It had to be the cream of the crop, or an awfully head turning man to get their attention. A lonely mailman hardly caught their eye, but a policeman on the other hand, well now, they had time to stop and whisper that sweet hello in the ear. The seductive touch, the silvery voice lured and lulled the mind into sublime bliss; all the while the victim was unaware of the knife hiding in that back holder behind their curved backs. Eamnonn did not get all the first day here. Nay, it too a few fights and situations not worth repeating until he finally learned how things went around this place. Law and order? There was none. Civil citizens? A figment of the fool’s imagination. That had been quickly picked up and mastered by the young Irishman, and the sins institutionalized here were nothing new. Crime did not exist anymore, for it was a way of life. The only crime that really could be committed was being friendly and proclaiming to be some angel of purity descending from heaven. If idle hands were the Devils playground, then this city had to be his amusement park. Bright eyes rolled upward and bore straight into those merciless eyes of January, seated across from him at the table. A crooked grin sat on his sharply featured face, but he remained silent for the moment, listening with keen ears to everything she uttered. He devoured her words like a wolf, starved of food and game for months on end. The curve of her sharp nose fascinated him. For only a brief moment, his eyes traveled the length of her body, as much as he could see without hindrance from the table. When his eyes returned to hold hers, his mind continued to wander, undressing the image of the woman seated only a few inches from him. If she wanted a good time to night, Eamnonn did not doubt that she would be without it. He was certainly happy to make a few sacrifices to expend a night with her. After all, what kind of woman did not want a profitable lay once in a while? Even the purest virgin imagined having some sort of intimate intercourse with a man, or woman if you preferred. Under the table’s surface, long legs crossed at the ankle rather plainly, as any man would do. Draping his arm across the back of the chair, the Irishman inclined backward, his tall and lithesome form stretching, muscles lay bare to her eyes rippled and flowed with movement. That same crocked smile sat on his lips, never flinching or showing signs of disappearing. That smile of his was secretive, as if he knew something that she did not. But of course he did, he was a police officer. He knew so many sides to a story, that even he found all of them to be lies and only excuses. But there was one secret that he held from her, and would happily use bait to lure the prey closer and closer before making any more or notation of his intentions. Eamnonn wanted sex, that was no lie or hidden plan in his eyes. He knew very well that she had an idea what he wanted, and thus far, she made no move to deny or show loss of interest. Perhaps she wanted something just as badly as him. "Now, why would I go and do a mean thing like that? I couldn't just let such a handsome man as yourself walk away when I need a drinking buddy." Said she, as innocently as a lamb whined. Dangerous. The little vixen. But they seemed to be off to a good start, she considered him handsome, and that was a compliment that he did not care about, but he did care that she had mentioned it aloud. Perhaps this would prove to be an interesting night after all. Only time would truly narrate that tale and dream. A soft, mocking chuckle left his lips. Did she honestly think that he was another man suckered into her by locks alone? Sorry to disappoint, but he had been around the block before, and knew how to dangle the string before the kitten and tease. Soon January would find that out, soon. “Just a drinkin’ buddy? Tat’s a shame, lass. I was really hopin’ ta have more than a few drink tanight. Ye know, put me sore feet up an’ rest’a bit here. Enjoy th’ music and company as well. If ye dun find me too naughty, luv.” Of course not, it was too soon. He had only begun to she the bad side of him. But there was something about the woman that made him curious. Her dark hair matching that silken skin, and the dress making her stand out among a crowd of people. Suddenly he sat up, and two hands reached behind to to grip the back of the chair. Eamnonn moved closer to her, until he was sitting beside her now, ignoring the sound the wood made as it scraped against the floor. No one cared or noticed. Now, some men might have been staring at January, but they were glad that the son of Ireland was not looking. This was HIS girl for the night. HIS woman to talk to. If anyone wanted her attention, they would have to work awfully hard to pry her away from him. "Oh, I don't know, even a gal like me likes to have a strong drink and meet interesting people. Tell me, hun, are you interesting?" Interesting people, she wanted, was it? Well, she would not be getting it from that man, that was for sure. Some man that was gray in the hair and daft in the head was boring, not interesting. Perhaps maybe even amusing, but not interesting. Leaning on the table, he smirked again, widely this time. “Ye’re still talkin’ ta me, aren’t ye? I must be interestin’ enough fer ya.” He whispered casually, his gaze staring at his hand upon the table. Long fingers laced together. If she wanted him gone, there was no worry in his mind that she did not know how to tell him off. If she did, well then he would just have to fine some other young girl to toy with, and play with until he got what he wanted. Long term agreements were not for him, not when he was in the prime of his years. Anything he wanted he could get. If he wanted a woman, he only had to go to a few places just to get a woman for the night. His job paid well, giving him nice clothes to wear. All he could have ever wanted was right here in Savage City. When he finally turned to face her, his hands had ceased their movement, and now rested in his lap neatly. “All I really know is that ye are interestin’ ta me, an’ I find ye a strange lass with something that not ever man gets ta see in a woman as fine and beautiful as ye.” He purred seductively, flashing a wink her way. Eamnonn glanced up long enough to wave off the woman who neared their table, and passed his icy cold eyes toward her. Hopefully, if all went well, Eamnonn would not leave empty handed. That would be hard to do. “‘Ave I sparked sum interest in ye? I ‘ope that ye dun find me a wick'd lad. Besides, a drinkin’ buddy is what we Irish luv ta ‘ave.” Dark hair fell along his face, making those cheekbones stand out more, and frame his visage amazingly.