Apr 07 18:24:24 106 PA
From Chronicles
The club is a liberal mix of modern and classic styles with a dark, warm lean to the hardwood and metal decor, dressed up with velvet and leather. Set up about the stage with attached DJ station and dance floor at the center, the entrance is set to one end of this, the bar to the other. The entrance itself is tightly controlled. There are always two well dressed people at the front, a bouncer to check each person coming in and another watching the drum and closet lockers that hold all patron weapons.
A broad , semi circular stage extends from the center of the widest wall, rising two feet, with lights rimming the edge and hidden in scaffolds high above. A rich red velvet curtain lies ready to sweep about and veil the stage itself from view. The DJ booth is set up right next to the stage, set into the same wall. With a thick window and biometric locks on the two side doors, one to the stage and the other to a set of stairs down, the equipment within is secure. Within a C shaped desk and racks hold the sound equipment, all linked into a central computer. All done up in sleek, dark cases, mixing well with the warm, wood paneling of the booth's exterior.
A dance floor is central to the club, laid out in a broad circle before the stage. Laid out in a semi circle opposite the stage side of the dance floor are a series of round tables, with smaller two person sized ones at the edge, with larger four person tables in the next row and a few grand six to eight person tables on the outer edge. All staggered to make for the best view for all to the dance floor and stage. To one side of this central focus is the bar, a broad affair taking up much of the shorter wall in width. The bar itself is a mix of modern and classic, with the simple, elegant hardwood design of the bar itself mixing with the display of alcohol behind it, opaque plastic shelves lit from within to highlight the wide selection of common and uncommon liquors for sale. The barstools themselves, lined up in a neat row, mix dark metallic stems with comfy red leather seats.
The current game time is: Thu Apr 07 18:24:24 106 PA. The evening is winding down, as it is the early hours of the morning now. Maya had a night off, a night to dance, or at least jump around on the floor like a mad thing. Tonight, the slinkiness is gone in favour of the pleated skirt, the t-shirt and the boots. Bunches bounce with her and her cheeks are flushed as she moves from the dance floor, seeking the bar, to catch her breath, and to get a drink. Arriving, she orders her usual, taking it with a grateful grin, and resting it against her throat, head tilted back, her lips parted.
"Slow down," comes a half-familiar voice. Clad in a navy polo and tan slacks, with short hair parted neatly to the right side of his head, Sebastien is dressed like a human being! It's an odd contrast to his general club attire. Gymnasium-sharp muscles fill the shirt nicely, though lines around the sides of his eyes show him a bit on the tired side. Raising a hand towards the tender, Sebastien calls out, "The chateau de trois vignes, s'il vous plait." His eyes flash at Maya, holding a laugh in them. "Chateau. I wonder what brick farmhouse is the castle for these winemakers?"
Maya takes a moment to respond, rolling the ice laden drink around her throat for a moment before lowering it, turning hazel eyes, bright with energy, onto the man. "I doubt it is a farmhouse. Perhaps une cour..." She shrugs, putting the drink down and turning to him, to offer one of her enthusiastic, whole body hugs. "You look tres adulte..." She informs him cheerfully, the flush fading from her cheeks.
The young Sebastien tilts his head to the right, and eyes his delivered drink warily. "La toilette?" he wonders, and stares at Maya long enough to receive that hug, resting his chin on her shoulder briefly. He smells of soap; vaguely cinnamon, freshly showered. "I am just from the hospital. I worked a double. I think there is a full moon or some such thing, nobody today was in their right mind." Drawing back to grab up his glass, Sebastien swirls it beneath his nose to utter, "It does have a delicate eau de toilette," smirking at the pun before giving it the sort of needy gulp one wouldn't use with good wine. "You however," he replies, thusly fortified, "are a schoolgirl. In army boots. Is it that you have been a good girl, I wonder, and practiced?"
"I think so, there was odd things this morning but I've had the night off!" She grabs up her drink once more, taking a large slurp through the straw. His pun gets him that wide, cheerful grin, and she shakes her head. "A schoolgirl? You are a kinky man, you know that?" The music changes slightly, becomes less purely loud, and a little more musical, and Maya lifts her arms over her heads, listening for a moment, obviously considering a return to the floor. "A good girl? Me? I doubt it! I have worked, and bounced a little, and found your gym..."
"A bad girl then?" Sebastien wonders lightly, reaching to run the back of two fingers up the side of one of those extended arms as she reaches over her head. "What is an instructor to do with a problem student then, I wonder?" The francophone lets that question hang in the air, flashing a brief grin as he turns to the floor.
Maya laughs, dropping her arms, and leaving the emptied glass behind her as she follows him. But his lessons are not put into practice, the broad grin giving him a moment's warning before she lifts her arms, closing her eyes and listening to the music. The rhythm and beat are good, beneath the melody, and she does a little shimmy, bending her legs as she does so, the only sign of deliberate mischief being the peek she sends his way and the struggle to keep the grin from reappearing.
She'd catch the young man's eyes on anything but hers! Sebastien pauses a long moment, hands at his sides, fingers half-curled with mouth open an inch, and opening his mouth a hair his tongue touches his upper, broken lip. With a step his hands find Maya's waist, from behind, and he holds her in place to let the line of his body just touch the back of hers. Pectorals brushing her shoulder blades, groin against the small of her back, knees touching the backs of her thighs. Sebastien's breath tickles Maya's ear as he breathes, "Slow down. Dance is like sex, and you bounce about as a virgin. You must mind the beat, oui, but also your partner. Tease, brush, and keep a rhythm with him. Remember," Sebastien adds, hips pausing a second so that they swap counter to Maya's with the beat, brushing across her back like the pendulum of a great clock, "you are now part of a larger organism."
She tilts her head back onto his shoulder, looking up at him, the grin bursting out. "Or perhaps I need no partner to enjoy my dance." She moves slowly, but with deliberation, brushing her hips past his, as she moves down, letting her hair run across his chest, nearly down to his stomach before rising and twisting in his arms. "Perhaps I have time alone, on my hands, and a dance alone, it gives pleasure but can be selfish...purely to my own desires." The tease is there, mixed with the mischief, but she curls arms over his shoulders, tilting her head back to look up at him, meeting the counter beat of his hips now.
