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Whisky Sour [Closed] - Printable Version

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RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 01-21-2017

Her expression clearly stated that his words were not a reassurance. It wasn’t pitying. It was somehow concern mixed with her insistence to help him. Julianna nodded enthusiastically as he mulled over the issue of his car, the train of thought was lending well to getting her way. She breathed a sigh of relief when he caved to her offer. She moved out of the door at the insistence of his hand on her shoulder, pausing on the sidewalk when she heard the jingle of keys as he pulled them from his pocket.

Eyes tracked to the car as it flashed and chirped and they widened at the sight of it. “Holy shit,” she breathed, reaching idly for the keys she assumed were being held up behind her somewhere. She was having trouble looking away from the car, but she did to locate the dangling keys and take them. “That’s your car,” she awed, stepping off the curb and not bothering to express whether she could drive a manual.

She could.

On the other side of the street she rounded the car, admiring it with jealous whines and disbelieving gasps. At one point, she reached out to touch it, but pulled her hand back as if she couldn’t possibly be allowed. “This is the nicest car I’ve ever seen,” she whined, opening the driver’s side door. She slid in behind the steering wheel, and the car was somehow even more impressive on the inside. It still smelled like new car and his cologne. She ran her fingers lightly over the wheel and giggled. It was partially because she was giddy to be inside such an incredible vehicle. And also, “you’re so tall.” Julianna wiggled her feet, too far from the pedals for her to reach. She laughed again while she adjusted the seat.

“So where are we going,” she chimed, trying to keep the mood light as she waited for him to settle. Foot on the clutch she started the car and resisted the urge to squeal as the engine purred.

She revved the engine a few times, groaning appreciatively and leaning back in the seat. She rolled her head over to look at him. She surveyed him for a few silent moments. “Let’s find a street race,” she said suddenly, mouth pulling to a grin. With another laugh she shifted into first gear and pulled out into the street.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 01-21-2017

Owen raised his eyebrows in a look of surprise brought on by her ‘holy shit’ over his car. Moving forward towards the vehicle he brushed past her as she stood gaping at it. Her astonishment was endearing.

“So you see why I can’t just leave her here.” He explained as he rounded the car to the passenger’s seat. He removed the suit jacket slung carelessly across the driver’s seat and the middle console before getting in. With a hand gripping the roof of the car he slid into the seat with some difficulty given his height. His knees were pressed into the dash board. The vehicle was used to shorter guests in the passenger’s seat. He’d certainly never rode there before.

A quick laugh at the length of her legs and Owen shook his head almost in disbelief. He’d never appreciated how much shorter than he that she was. “No you’re short.” He said as he pointed out the buttons that would slide the chair into a more comfortable position for her.

“The Lindson Tower.” He answered jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction they needed to go. “Do you know it?” The Lindson Tower was an infamous luxury condominium building built in the upscale metro area the district. Known for its lavish and overpriced suites and design featured in architectural magazines.

Owen was on the verge of laughter over Julianna’s obvious giddiness. Revving the engine and suggesting they find a street race. He looked over his shoulder as a couple passed by staring at the vehicle as it roared when encouraged by Julianna. “Oh my god.” He muttered laughing and pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

“I'm just along for the ride.” He said with a smile as he buckled himself in. He let the window down and let his arm hang half out the window enjoying the cool evening air and the ride from the passenger's seat.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 01-21-2017

Julianna hummed her understanding, more than aware as to why the car couldn’t be left overnight. Meter parking rules aside, there was no way such an exquisite compilation of machinery should be left unattended for extended periods of time.

She huffed as he called her short. Lower lip pushing outwards as her shoulders slumped. “I am of perfectly average height for a human woman,” she complained, and it sounded like she often did so. She quickly perked, unable to be truly offended when she was behind the wheel of the Maserati. She wanted to push all the buttons, and she couldn’t decide whether using the gear shift or the paddles. So many options. She was still wonder struck.

“The Lindson,” she repeated, tone marked with disbelief. Brows lifting towards her hairline as she snapped her own seat belt into place. Of course she knew it. She took the time to look over at him, admiring his profile in the streetlight. Very aware of how handsome he was. She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe he drove a Maserati and lived in the Lindson. She had never thought about it too much, before but she had clearly underestimated his wealth. Her gazed snapped away from him as he got comfortable.

He was laughing at her and she didn't even mind. She liked the sound of it, deep and resonant. She smiled, also liking to know that she had been the cause.

“Street race it is then,” she sang, as she checked for oncoming traffic at a stoplight. “We should race for pink slips,” she continued even though she kept to barely above the speed limit and in the direction of their destination. “We could totally win.”

Julianna was content to chatter on as she drove. There wasn’t a specific train of thought she entertained. She talked about the bar. She talked about the city. She seemed to be full of fun historical facts and trivia based around the historical locale. She was able to mark streets and buildings that attributed to some interesting story about the Revolutionary War. That period in time seemed to be a strange sort of specialty for her.

They arrived at the tower in a timely manner, though she did mention once more that she knew the best place to find themselves and illegal drag race. She followed his direction towards the parking garage and the spot designated for his car. She killed the engine and sighed, offering one last affectionate pat to the dashboard just above the radio. The dark leather was smooth beneath her fingers. She faked a sniffle. “I am going to miss you,” she whispered, before popping open the door and stepping out of the car.

She stretched her arms above her head, dropping them back to her sides with a sigh. “Drove a Maserati. Check. I can die happy now.” She turned to gaze at him over the roof the car. She rubbed her hands over her jean clad thighs.

“You’ve got it from here, I suppose? Sure you can manage an elevator, yeah?” She winked at him.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 01-29-2017

Owen’s eyes narrowed in mock suspicion at her claim that she was of ‘average height.’ He looked away from her and out the window, “I suppose.” He teased as the car went into motion.

He was left enjoying the chauffeuring by an attractive and chatty woman. He didn't mind her prattling to the contrary he appreciated it very much. The longer she was content to speak to him and let him silently listen the more an invisible weight lifted off his chest. No need to force conversation. No need to be anything. He relaxed back into the leather seat and made the appropriate noises indicating he was following her narrative. Every now and again Owen glanced at the odometer noting Julianna’s insistence at driving the speed limit. She didn’t go more than five miles per hour over the marked limits. He found it charming and the curl of his lips suggested that was the case. He didn’t tease her about it or goad her into testing the power of his car, but was content to listen to his tour guide and enjoy her cruising pace.

“You might have a knack for trivia, yet.” He complimented her genuinely impressed with the depth of her American history knowledge.

When they arrived to the private parking garage at the Lindson Tower, Owen exited the car bringing his suit jacket with him. He laughed out loud when she told his car she would miss it. The sound of his laugh echoed in the parking garage and he bent down to peer at her through the open passenger door. “She will miss you too.”

Whether she knew it or not he was joking at her expense at the fact that the car might have enjoyed the easy way she drove as compared to his rough usage of the machine.

“Yes, I can operate the elevator.” He hooked the collar of his jacket on his index and swung it over his shoulder, letting it dangle down his back. “But! I can’t just leave you here in the parking garage. How are you getting home?” Without waiting for her answer, he had already rounded the car to meet her. His arm, irrespective of any orders from his brain, moved to place his free hand on her back between the shoulder blades. The drinks in his blood encouraged him to react physically towards her in a way that he might not have in a sober mind set.

“Come up for a night cap and allow me to call you a cab.” He offered but the gentle push of his hand seemed to insist that she agree to his terms.

When the elevator door opened, he allowed her to enter first, the tips of his fingers trailed down her spine to the small of her back as she stepped away from him. He followed behind her, pressed the button for the top most floor, and entered a security code to authorize the elevator to travel to the floor owned solely by him.

“When did you learn to drive stick?” He asked to make conversation as the elevator soared higher. Knowing how long the ride was he leaned against the back wall of the elevator as if to make himself comfortable. Right on schedule around the twentieth floor Owen reflexively swallowed and opened his jaw to relieve the impounding pressure in his inner ear as they traveled upwards. Side effect of living fifty floors in the air.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-05-2017

Julianna’s teasing grin faded into a look of surprise. “Oh, I was just going to walk,” she explained, watching as he moved around the car to meet her on the driver’s side. “It’s not that far.” Owen didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, insisting that she join him. As an adult, she was very aware as to what it usually meant when another adult invited you into their home for a drink. The young bartender didn’t want to be presumptuous, he could very well just want to see her home safe. That did not, however, keep her from being a bit hopeful her handsome patron had something else in mind.

She tried to push the thought away, but her attention immediately focused on his hand in the middle of her back. Large and warm and ushering her towards the elevator despite her notions otherwise. “I’d love a drink” she acquiesced, stepping in the direction he was intending to lead her. “But the cab really isn’t necessary.” She lifted her face to smile softly as him as they waited near the elevator.

The cascade of his lingering fingers down her back as she stepped into the elevator coursed an involuntary shiver to follow the path of his hand. Following his lead, she leaned her butt against the railing at the left side of the elevator. She crossed her arms over her stomach and her feet at the ankles.

When he posed his question, Julianna let her head fall back against the wall of the elevator. She narrowed her eyes and surveyed him from her periphery. Lips pursed as she seemed to be considering whether or not to answer his question. “On the farm,” she said, elongating the vowels playfully as she wrinkled her nose. She paused in her explanation to relieve the pressure from her own ears as the elevator continued higher. She hadn’t watched him press the button and she was left wondering just how high they were going.

“It’s actually an orchard.” she corrected. “Apples. My family owns one. When it was time to learn how to drive I had to do it in a old pickup truck we used to run deliveries to the local markets. Not exactly a teenager’s dream car, but the skill has come in handy.” Brows lifted as if the last comment was meant to tease him.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-15-2017

Side by side they leaned against the wall of the elevator like old pals as they waited for it to arrive at its top most destination. Owen stared ahead, aware of her gaze on his profile. His eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment before his face relaxed into an easy smile when Julianna revealed when she had learned to drive a manual.

“I could see that.” He said somewhat more fondly than he meant to. As if the idea of her origins on a quaint apple orchard explained something that had been previously unanswered about her character. “You did well.” He complimented her skill. He had noticed her smooth way of shifting.

The elevator floated to a stop and the doors opened directly into a foyer of sorts before the penthouse doors.

“This is me.” He gestured for her to leave the elevator. Playing the role for gentleman, he placed his hand along the open elevator door as if to ensure it wouldn’t close on her.

Dim lights in the foyer clicked on upon the opening of the elevator, a small amenity in amongst many more impressive ‘smart technology’ features. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. There were lights on timers that had settings to accommodate the eyes in the late hour.

Owen led her through the entryway into his three bedroom home. The entryway opened into a luxurious open floor plan sparsely furnished in a minimalist style. He moved directly to the sliding glass doors off the living room which opened to a terrace with an unobstructed view of the city. The terrace was fitted with a pool, hot tub, an outdoor bar, and even landscaping. He slid the glass open to let in the breeze and turned back towards her.

“Make yourself at home.” He moved back through the house towards the kitchen. Though impressive and high tech, the home certainly wasn’t warm. The sparse furnishings and wood flooring lent itself to echoing. There was a formality in everything including a stately grand piano dominated a corner of the formal living room.

Owen felt an almost constant need to fill the same with music to dampen the echo. He paused on his route to the alcohol to pick up a remote from a table in the living room. He pressed a button and the music of Frank Sinatra filled the room. Something he’d been listening to in a moment of nostalgia and sadness. He shrugged and turned the volume down before handing the remote off to Juliana for her to play with the music as she saw fit.

He moved off again towards the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, “What can I get for you?”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-16-2017

“Can you?” she chimed, lifting her head and pushing away from the wall. She turned a small circle in the large space of the elevator to face him. An entertained sort of half smile curled a corner of her mouth. She propped her hands up on her waist, head dipping to the side. “I hope you’re not picturing cut off shorts and cowboy boots because that would be…” she paused, lips curling into a larger grin. “Terribly accurate.” She nodded in approval of his compliment, stepping closer to the doors as the elevator slid to a stop. Eyes rolled upwards to catch sight of the floor number. She found there was no number, just a bright letter P. She swallowed hard as her gaze dropped back to her reflection in the doors. The penthouse. Oh my.

She muttered thanks as she walked past him, ballet flats silent on the tile of the foyer. She stopped walking as she felt him approach, allowing him to take the lead.

Green eyes were wide as saucers as they entered the luxury apartment. She sighed her disbelief as she pushed a hand through her hair, the constant touching was upsetting her ponytail. Wisps of dark hair falling around her face. “Wow,” she emphasized, her hands dropping to her sides as she slowly followed behind him. “This is incredible,” she complimented. She moved close enough to see the glimmering tops of other buildings from the door he had opened. “Oh my god.” She skipped the last few steps to occupy the space of the door that he’d abandoned.

“I can’t believe I’m on top of the Lindson Tower,” she gushed with a cheerful laugh. The altitude gave the breeze a chill but she didn’t seem to mind. She cocked her head to the music that started to fill the space, surprised, but not displeased with the selection. She turned away from the window just in time for him to push the remote into her hands. She surveyed the buttons as he moved towards the kitchen. Julianna shoved the remote in her back pocket without changing the music.

She hummed in response to his question. She’d heard him, but didn’t know how to answer, though the setting led her to believe her options were veritable. Ultimately she was distracted by the terrace. “Uhm, surprise me,” she replied her voice trailing as she disappeared out the door and onto the balcony. She walked to the railing, curling her hands around the decorative edging as she tried to decide whether or not she could stand to look down. Her laughter trailed with the breeze.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-16-2017

Owen allowed Julianna to effuse compliments on his home without any commentary of his own. He found her enthusiasm and wonder at his display of wealth both charming and refreshing. He took his whole lifestyle for granted and almost forgot that it wasn’t the norm for most people. Owen smiled to himself as he walked away from her to the kitchen, the sound of her laughter following after him.

For some reason, the little hairs that had broke free of her messy pony tail and had been picked up in the breeze where she stood in the balcony doorway were stuck in his mind. Why was he so fixated on her hair? He sighed to himself as he poured them each a glass of bourbon in his kitchen. Glass clinked as he placed the decanter stopper back and scooped up the drinks.

Feeling somewhat contemplative about where the evening would lead them, he hesitated in the kitchen. Without knowing it he felt the same temptation as she, but was determined to keep his clothes on around the young bartender. He reassured himself that nothing would happen with her. They would share a drink, some conversation, and he’d call her a cab and send her home.

Keep your clothes on. Send her home. The mantra played in his mind as he walked up behind her.

He walked quietly across the balcony and came up behind her. “Not a bad view.” He said as he moved up on her side. He drew her attention with the comment while he slipped his arm around her shoulder with a glass in hand for her. He let the glass rest against her arm to draw her attention to that side leaving her to figure out it was for her.

One drink, he reminded himself even as he played this little flirtatious game with her. When she claimed her glass he returned his arm to his side. The game was over.

He was still rather buzzed from the drinks at the bar and toasted her, raising his glass just slightly before he put it to his lips. He surveyed her over the top of the glass as he slipped admiring pretty features. High cheeks and a delicate nose. Little hairs that danced around her face in the breeze. And those warm eyes. There was something intoxicating about her. And he had an addictive personality. He quickly looked away.

“Thanks for the ride. I appreciate the … ah, concern for my safety.” He smiled sadly at the city line that glittered at them. Though endeared to her because of her display of concern for him, the thought that he needed a bartender to get him home safely sent a wave of melancholy through him.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-17-2017

“It’s an amazing view,” she said as if she were correcting him, falling for his game and looking up. Her head quickly whipped to where he held the drink against her arm. She laughed lightly and pulled it from his hand. The weight of his arm around was comforting, warm against the cool air, but brief. She inhaled deeply. “How do you not just live out here?”

As a bartender and self-proclaimed whisky expert, it was impossible for her to be handed a drink and just...drink it. She swirled the gold liquid just beneath her nose. “I smell marzipan, and chocolate and coffee,” she paused, rolling her eyes upward in thought. “And mint?” The last seemed to surprise her. She mimicked his toast with a smile, before taking a sip of her own. Pink tongue darted across her lips, and she hummed. “Orchard fruits,’ she observed, vaguely, because she couldn’t place them specifically. Maybe plums? She took another sip. “Oh, oh! Blackberries, redcurrants and coconut.” She seemed to be getting excited, closer and closer to guessing what they were drinking. “Glenmorangie?” she ventured. “Twelve year, no-” she took another sip, and gasped. “Twenty-five year? Ooooh, fancy.”

She continued to sip at her drink, and watch him. That sadness about him had returned, and as per usual she felt the need to try to make it go away. She turned her body towards him, leaning against the railing. She pulled a hand away from the glass, to wave it between them. “It’s not problem at all,” she reassured, reaching to smooth her hand down his arm. “Besides,” she squeezed his forearm before pulling away. ‘“How else would I have gotten you to show me this swanky apartment, eh?” she gestured around, walking backwards and away from him, laughing all the while as she moved towards the pool.

Kicking off one of her ballet flats, she balanced herself near the decorated edge of the water. “So, what do you do exactly Mr. Moneybags?” She dipped her toes in the water and was surprised to find it warm. Like relaxing bath warm. She kicked her foot back and forth slowly to watch the ripples.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-22-2017

Owen leaned both forearms on the railing holding his drink in both hands over the edge. The deep lean brought him down more to her height and he gazed over at the girl who was so vocally enchanted by his living situation. “I do spend a lot of time out here.” Admittedly that time was spent drinking alone late at night but he did spend a lot of time out there.

He watched her from the vantage of almost at her height as she tested her nose and palate. He smiled quietly and looked away from her back out into the city as she correctly guessed it. He shook his head in disbelief. He was impressed.

The sudden soft pressure of her hand against his arm drew his gaze and he watched slender tanned fingers move over the fabric of his shirt. The pressed firmly around his bicep creating little wrinkles in the sleeve. He wanted to go on feeling her touching him but the contact was gone too quickly and she was joking about his wealth. The moment was over.

She moved towards the pool and he watched her slip out of her flat little shoes and test the temperature. He chuckled self-consciously as she gave him the moniker “moneybags” and scratched at the back of his neck as he moved up next to her. With the most deadly serious face he could muster he glanced down at her. “I’m an international arms dealer.” He answered her as if he were some dangerous man she’d suddenly found herself alone with. He let the information hang in the air. His looming posture and set jaw were attempts to keep it heavy before his face cracked into a crooked smile.

“I’m just fucking with you. I’m the CEO of Tac Industries.” He revealed before sipping at his drink again. Owen reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the thin leather case that held the business card he’d considered handing to her earlier that evening. This time he actually pulled the card out and offered it to her. Heavy cardstock printed with the name of the company, his name, his title, and a single phone number. It was an exclusive card. Direct access to him. And there he was offering it to her. And he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was all the alcohol he was close to drowning himself in that evening.

“In case you find yourself on the market for an RPG.” He joked though his lips curled into a twisted smirk suggesting that she should use it for something else entirely. He was essentially an international arms dealer - but in a legal sense. He sold weapons to governments, militaries, and regimes. If anything the information merely outed himself as a very, very rich man, if his home and car hadn’t already established that.

Owen moved away from her then, ambling with a sort of confident swagger over to the lounge chairs that lined the pool. It must have been the alcohol but he found himself lounging in the chair in his business clothes as comfortably as if he’d been in swim trunks. One arm tucked behind his head, drink balanced on his thigh, and he gestured at her with his drink. “Go for a swim if you like.” It was an offering and yet phrased more as an instruction. He kicked off his polished dress shoes and pulled off his socks.

“It’s heated.”

He couldn't explain why but he was enjoying watching Julianna enjoy herself. His car, his penthouse, the view. Why not the pool also?

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-22-2017

Withdrawing her foot from the water as he moved near to her, she stayed close to the pool and smiled up at him. Her smile faded when he admitted to being an arms dealer, brow furrowed as she was momentarily tricked by the solemn expression that he managed to display. She held his gaze, acutely aware of the height difference between them. His trick had worked until his expression changed and she found herself laughing. The sound of it was both entertained and relieved. “Oh my god." She pushed lightly at his shoulder. "I believed you for second,” she complained, before taking another sip of the sweet bourbon.

Still smiling, she flipped the impressive card over in her fingers, feeling the weight of it before reviewing the information printed upon it. Owen Hart. C.E.O. She couldn't believe she was standing on a billionaire's balcony. “Wow,” she lilted, drawing out the vowels in a clear indication of her surprise. Julianna had been able to tell that he was some sort of wealthy business type, but now she knew that she had severely underestimated him. “You know I was just thinking that I was in dire need for some heavy arms,” she teased. She watched him walk away, but didn’t move with him. Her growing attachment to his terrance, most especially his pool, was easily broadcasted. The business card disappeared into her back pocket.

Brows lifted as he offered use of his pool. Tilting her head, she moved away from water and closer to where he lounged comfortably, stepping out of her second shoe as she did so. Whether suggestion or instruction, Julianna didn’t need to be convinced. She wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy a heated rooftop pool on a cool, starlit night. Draining the rest of the drink, she set the glass on a table between the chair Owen occupied and a second empty one. Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem of her work shirt and pulled it over her head in one swift movement. She let the material fall from her hands and drop to the empty chaise. The black jeans were swiftly removed next, she bent at the waist to pull the denim away from her feet and left it in a pile on the deck. Cotton and lace boy shorts in a deep burgundy colored were revealed, matching the balconette bra that she also wore. It was unclear if the deliberate movements were with the intention of putting on a show, but it was clear that she wasn’t self conscious about her body, or her new state of undress.

With another lilt of laughter, she pulled the elastic from her hair, securing it around her wrist, as she turned away from him to walk back to the pool. Dark hair cascaded down her back and settled between her shoulder blades. She stepped into the pool, finding the warm water inviting and delightful. She sighed, contently, as she walked far enough for the water to reach the level of her waist. With an inhale, she disappeared beneath the water. A few moments later she popped up at the edge of the pool close to where he still reclined. She smoothed back wet hair that had clung to her face, green eyes surveyed him from the water. She smirked at him. “To be honest, at this point I wouldn’t even care if you were actually some sort of international criminal.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 02-27-2017

Owen hummed thoughtfully into his glass as she made her joke about being in need of weaponry. He seemed to be considering the prospect. His eyes closed momentarily as she sipped at his drink. When he opened them again she was standing near his chair and undressing herself.

“You’re really much to small for anything real heavy.” He commented for the second time on her stature, his eyes sweeping over her as she undressed, under the guise of sizing her up for a weapon. He had always found her to be an attractive woman but he was surprised at the body she had hidden under her casual work clothes. A real shame to hide hips like those in work jeans. He frowned at the lace trim on her panties as she made this enticing little shimmy and bent over - an unnecessary and purposeful presentation of her ass to him - as she stepped out of her pants. How dare she. He was quickly rationalizing her loss of clothes reminding himself that he had only promised that he would not take off his own clothes.

“You’re pretty spunky though so I’d outfit you with a nice M941 Rocket Launcher. Recoilless. It’s a classic. You’d be a force to reckon with.” He was rambling as he watched her hair spill down her back as she walked away from him. Rambling meaninglessly and drunkenly.

She disappeared in the water and he pushed himself up to refill his glass at the mini bar on the terrace. He turned when he heard her surface and returned the smirk she gave him. Owen poured another couple of fingers of whisky for himself. He really didn’t need any more. He was more than solidly buzzed. With a flip of his index finger, lights in the pool turned on. They cycled through several primary colors blue, green, red, purple.Owen watched the change of the colors as they played off Julianna’s face and hair.

“Wow -” he paused to sip at his alcohol again. “That’s a compliment in the highest.” He slammed back the rest of his drink and dropped his glass on the mini bar, apparently deciding he was done drinking for the night. He laughed and wiped at his lower lip with his thumb, “It’s kind of adorable how easily impressed you are.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 02-28-2017

Julianna laughed, the sound of it was cut short as the bottom half of her face sunk below the water. Bubbles rose upwards and popped on the surface as a testament to her continued mirth. She disappeared beneath the crystal blue, but popped again quickly. “A rocket launcher,” she repeated, shaking her head from side to side slowly, tendrils of her hair snaking across the glassy plane. “I’d be a menace,” she joked, kicking off the wall of the pool and swimming backwards slightly until she was treading water. “The Gilded Rose would have to watch out. I’d be taking out all of my competition.”

As he moved towards the bar, she swam short laps across the width of the pool. Graceful arcs of her arms carried her through the water, which parted gently in quiet ripples. She giggled, clearly pleased when the lights came on, shifting colors in a sort of show. After a few moments of playing around, she returned to the edge closest to him. She lifted herself out of the pool, water trailed down her skin in thin rivulets that cascaded rainbows from the ever-shifting lights. With a half-turn she perched herself on the precipice, legs still dangling into the warm water. Her lashes clung together in star-like points, and her hair was quickly curling into tight ringlets from the moisture. She gathered the locks up in her hands, scrunching them up with fingers to squeeze out the excess water so her hair didn’t drip.

She dropped her hands and looked at him over her shoulder, she watched the quick motion of his thumb across his lip before sticking her tongue out at him playfully. “I am from a farm,” she reminded him, pushing herself into a standing position. The chilly air rose goosebumps down her arms and legs and tightened her nipples to points that pressed against the dark fabric of her bra. “Not a whole lot of high profile criminals where I am from,” she continued, taking slow and deliberate steps towards him, as if giving him time to look her over. Wet footprints left a trail to him on the tidy terrace. “And there certainly aren’t any rooftop pools.” When she was near enough, she leaned against the mini bar he occupied, smirk still playing on her features. She stood close to him, but not too close.

“Where are you from?” she questioned, cocking her head and rolling green eyes upwards to look at him.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 03-13-2017

Owen watched her swim as his own mind drowned in the alcohol he couldn’t seem to stop drinking that night. What feelings was he trying to bury? What was he trying to find at the bottom of the glass? He wasn’t sure of anything but an apparent ache for something. Anything.

He exhaled almost a sigh to himself as she lifted herself out of the water. Wow. He was thinking to himself, wondering if she was intentionally putting herself on display for him. As if there was really a question of that. She had been quite obviously displaying herself to him since she took her clothes off for the swim.

At this point they both knew how the night would end. It was really left to a game of how long he could hold himself back. He was becoming curious how far she would push him. He was curious if he could get her to ask for sex. Already imagining it, she gazing up at him with luminous green eyes, lashes sticking together, wet hair clinging to her shoulders --

He cleared his throat and fiddled with the rim of the glass with his index finger. “Well you’re in the district now, where if you’re not a high profile criminal with a rooftop pool, you aren’t trying hard enough.” He smirked knowing full well that she was neither. His finger pulled too hard on the glass and it tipped over landing with a gentle clink on the bar. It rolled half an inch and stopped.

“I’m sure a nice farm girl, such as yourself, is corrupted easily enough.” He gazed down at her pointedly hoping she caught the rather obvious innuendo. He poked at the turned over glass with his finger sending it rolling towards the edge but made no move to catch it. She would retrieve it or it would shatter on the ground.

He turned around to lean his back against the bar and stared up at the night sky above. The stars weren’t readily visible given the light pollution from the metropolis. He was very aware of the way she was looking up at him - just the way he'd imagined earlier. Although she was asking about his origins and not begging for touch. He sighed, "D.C. born and raised." He responded before reaching into his jacket pocket for his iPhone.

“It’s late. I’ll get you a Lyft.” His swiped through the menu searching for the app.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 03-14-2017

Julianna matched his smirk, pairing it with a brief shake of her head and a full roll of her green eyes. Gaze fell to the glass as it toppled, and she watched as it rolled. She tilted her head, dark hair bouncing around her face as she watched him out of her periphery. Aware of his obvious and pointed gaze on her. She laughed. “Oh. You think so?” She lifted her hand away from the bar to stop the glass from falling off the edge of it with the flat of her hand. She shifted on her feet, hips swaying with the movement as her fingers curled around the glass and she returned it to an upright position on the polished wood top. It could have been too telling of her nature to stop the tumbler from falling off; some kind of test she didn’t know if she passed, but it was better than broken glass which didn’t sound conducive to her current plans.

She abandoned commentary on her being a nice farm girl for a moment. Pushing away from the bar and turning her body towards him as he moved to lean against it. Slow and careful steps moved her figure until she was standing in front of him. One shoulder lifted towards her cheek and she was still forced to look up at him. Julianna hummed in response to his answer, she had been curious when she’d asked, but now she had other questions on her mind. Questions whose answers didn’t necessarily require words.

She observed him as he watched the stars for a moment, before pulling out his phone. She remained silent as she watched him fiddle with that now. Wordlessly, her hands reached behind her back and unclasped her bra with ease. “I don’t need a Lyft,” she replied, sliding the straps off of her arms and letting the flimsy, burgundy fabric fall to the deck. Cold, D.C. air rose goosebumps across her skin, but she didn't seem to mind. “I’m pretty sure they have a strict policy that you have to wear clothes,” she continued, and took another step towards him. Tentatively, she went to take the phone from him, and when he seemed to acquiesce she plucked it from his grasp and reached to set it on the bar. She stepped into the space she had made for herself. Nearly toe to toe with him. She curled her fingers around the knot of his tie, tugging it downwards until the fabric unraveled in her hand. Julianna draped the silken cloth around her neck as if she had plans for it, and her digits moved to the buttons of his vest. Three undone in quick succession, and she leaned forward to flatten her hands against his stomach.

“Besides,” she cocked her head again, curls springing as she lifted on her toes and pushed her hands upwards, hooking her fingers beneath the vest in the suggestion that she wanted it off of him. Hands on his shoulders, and breasts pressed against his chest. “Maybe I want to see just how easily corrupted I am.”