Deux Visages

Half past midnight and the usually packed bar, Deux Visages was more lifeless than a vampire left out in the sun for too long. The sparse signs of life came from the few people on the dance floor swaying listless or grinding against each other along to the music blaring through the club's louder speakers. Audience or no audience, the music continued faithfully until the club owner decided it was time to shut down for the night.  uch like the music, the few people who stuck around were the do-nothing regulars who would instead come in every night to drain the beer pipes instead of finding something better to do with their time. The owner, Oswald, never minded so long as they didn't go about causing any trouble.

Away from the dance floor and blaring music, an evidently grumpy but flashily dressed woman sat at the club's bar. Inaudible grumbles escaped the wowoman’s mouth as she adjusted her position on the far too-small bar stool. Her right hand came down with more force than necessary as she cut into the slender piece of blueberry pie. Purple blood oozed out onto the plate as an oversized piece was severed off from the rest before being thrust roughly into the demanding pink cavern.  Undeterred by the cavern's new occupant, the low grumbles continued. The woman was far too consumed by her bad mood to notice or feel the pairs of longing, hungry eyes staring unabashedly at her back.

The alcohol and good music weren't the only things that drew clubgoers to Deux Visagas. The bigger reason came in the form of the hope for a night of risqué excitement and potential passion. Oswald didn’t provide such services himself. The owner did his best to stay above board on everything in his cl b. Who was he thought to send away or caution the lovely group of women responsible for the recent uptick in servi e? Money was money, after all. Even if it came from the pockets of less savory individuals. Beggars couldn't always be choosers. And if they could, they'd certainly be like to be like Oswald. Silently selling their souls to the devil while maintaining their angelic reputations. Oswald may not have approved whatever the women did or who they were under all their fancy stuff, but people emptied their pockets to be around  hese women. For the sake of money, however, he could turn a blind eye to personal bias so long as they didn't get him shut down.

The club owner wasn't dumb, however. Despite being an elderly gentleman with only one good eye and more gray hairs on his head than years on his life, he could still smell trouble from a mile away. He didn't often grace the main part of the club with his presence, he always kept one eye and ear alert for potential problems.

One such problem was  the sour woman sitting on the barstool. The self-declared leader of the group of women picked Oswald's club as their base. Oswald knew better than to be taken in by her good looks an  charming personality. A sharp, assertive temper wasn't' the only trouble she brought along with her.

"Honey. You seem like you're in quite a bad mood today. Is there anything that you might need to talk about?" The bartender's question came as he placed a shot glass of Vodka next to the pie. The bartender hardly thought the two made the best combination, but the woman didn't care as she snatched up the shot glass and downed it in one go. The glass was slammed back down on the counter with enough force it was a wonder it didn't end up shattering. 

" Houston! It isn't fair. They keep me busy with all this senseless work that they don't even need me for. How can I come here to have fun when the fun has already left by the time I get here?" The woman's words came out in a deep whine as she motioned to the nearly empty club. 

"" Ah lovely. Are they keeping you overworked again? I thought that it was because you weren't here earlier despit it being the weekend. Honey Drop is one of our most popular girlies after all." Houston gently patted the other's hand with a wink.   "Don't worry too much. I'm sure that if you stick around for a little bit, there will be a stray or two who comes wandering in. If not, just know that you had quite a few of your regulars come by earlier wondering when you would be coming in." The golden-haired woman rolled her eyes as she retrieved her hand. Was that supposed to help her feel better? If they truly cared about when she'd been coming and were loyal, they'd have waited for her until the place shutdown for the night. How pathetic. 

Honey Drop hardly needed to be told how popular she was. She knew it anytime she took the floor. All e es turned towards her. Partner or no partner, the woman controlled everyone's gaze the moment she turned herself on. How could anyone resist such a beautiful creature after all? 

Honey stood at 6'2 Slender  but equally well built. Golden curly hair that flowed past her shoulders to just before her  eliciously plump butt. The golden curls cascaded around her shoulders just enough to help accentuat  her luscious breasts. If any man or woman could raise their eyes enough to pay attention to the woman's face, they'd immediately lose themselves in s oldering coppery orbs. The kind of orbs that were filled with unspoken dark promises should one choose to engage with her and lock gazes. 

 "What stray kittens are going to think about coming in at this time of night? All the fun ones have likely found their person to go home with for the night." Honey grumbled as the last piece of pie  lipped into her mouth. Still. She would have to find a way to make the best of her time while stuck there. Leaving too soon would only result in a worse mood than her current one. 

The dim lights of the club and the lifeless dance floor only made Honey's mood worse. Her good friends weren't even around to help ele ate her mood. Bitches. They obviously ditched after sinking their claws into their own valuables. Could they not have left a little tidbit behind for her?  ome friends they were. Oh, how she would remember this the next time they complained about her jilting them.

Honey stalked across the floor towards the booths refusing to meet the gazes of a few of the older gentlem n who lingered arou d. Dirty old bastards. No way in hell did they deserve any form of attention from her. Such men didn't know how to properly appreciate her and what she had to offer. The only stray hand that dared tried to touch as she walked too close to the table was mercilessly smacked down. God damn it. 

Honey found refuge in one of the far-end booths. Her usual place was when she ha  someone to entertain. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the only person she would be entertaining tonight woul  be her and her phone. The tall woman pouted as she scanned the darkclub's dark corners any potential surprises she might've missed. Alas, not even one of the awkward, less-than-appealing clubgoers was lurking about.

Honey very much looked like a pouting princess with the way her golden curls fitted on her shoulders and the backless black d ess flowed around her. A princess left without a prince to entertain her the night. 

"Well, if it isn't the ever-so-lovely Honey Honey Dew Drop." A thick drawling voice from behind broke Honey out of her stew pot of miserable thoughts. 

"What is such a sweet lovely lady as yourself doing sitting here all on your own on a night like tonight?" Honey resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her lips morphed into a small smirk. 

"Chip. I don't think tonight is one of those nights that you want to find yourself bothering me on." A subtle warning as Honey told hold of the rough, calloused hand that attempted to touch her right shoulder. 

"I don't believe I have ever come to bother you on a night that as ended badly for me. Mood or no mood, you've always been a lovely companion." Honey didn't let the other's hand go as the stocky Southerner moved into her line of sight. 

"In fact, I think that some of the best times we have had together have been when you're in one of your worst moods." The tall woman observed the other man quietly, her lips only slightly upturned as copper spheres gazed into hazel orbs. 

"Are you sure about that? I'm not sure you're aware of the mood I'm in tonight. I would hate to… Break you again too soon." Her words were met with a deep, rough chuckle,, but Chip spoke again in his deep southern drawl. The tone was low enough to stir a speck of excitement in Honey's stomach at his next words. 

"Darling, you ought to know by now it takes more than a few licks to break me. If it weren't for the fact that you're ever so lovely, I might be offended." Honey's hand rose as Chip pulled it upward for a kiss that never quite reached the delicate skin. Ever the tease, the glamorous woman pulled her hand away just as the hair on Chip's upper lip grazed her skin.

"What are we standing around here waiting for then? Shouldn't we be heading somewhere you can show me exactly how serious you are?" Honey could barely contain her delight at how dark those familiar hazel orbs turned in response to just a few words. 

Maybe the night wouldn't be such a waste after all. At least one loyal person had been willing  o wait around for her. Even if he wouldn't have been her first choice. It would still make up for the terrible afternoon she had had.