Log: Bartemptress

[x-blink.livejournal.com]

Clarice Candy isn't doing so well waiting on tables, much to Melina's chagrin. Thankfully, Clarice can play money-grubbing whore.



If Clarice had seen anybody wearing what laughingly passed as her 'outfit' under any other circumstances, she probably would have made some sort of fashion-police disparaging remark. Unfortunantly, she was wearing the outfit, or perhaps more importantly, what wasn't there. Trying not to feel self-conscious in barely a bra, bikini bottom, fishnet stockings and high heels was difficult. The entire outfit (and her in it) screamed SLUT!

The music didn't help either. It was sexy in that disco-club thumping sort of way. At least when she was dancing on stage there was a no-touchy rule. Sadly, it did not apply to when she was not on stage and working the floor serving drinks and the like. 'The like' was what bothered her most about the patrons of this fine establishment.

"Hands off," she said sweetly, placing a drink order on the table for several men and lightly slapping their hands as if they had been caught in the cookie jar.

"Is there a problem here?" came an airy voice, pitched in octaves that indicated the speaker had just witnessed something more akin to a simple misunderstanding over the bill than the overt fondling of an employee. Milena Giordano smiled brilliantly as she drew up next to Clarice, the intricate silver patterns that overlaid her skin set off by a tight silver dress. She lay a proprietary hand on Clarice's shoulder and addressed the most blatant of the offenders. "I'm sorry, Candy's new. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Everything's just fine," Clarice assured her calmly. She knew what she was getting into when she said she'd go undercover and two days into the case was not a good time to blow it. Not at all. Damn her self respect and throw it out the window. "Just brought them a fresh round of drinks."

"We'll make that on the house, just in case," Milena said, flashing the men a winning smile. "Now I need to borrow Candy for just a teensy tiny moment. Don't worry, you'll get your server back. Or, tell you what." She chuckled and tossed her head, sending a few curls of perfectly-coiffed hair spilling across her dark eyes. "If you finish your drinks before we get back, I'll bring the next round myself."

The weight on Clarice's shoulder turned into gentle pressure as the older woman ushered the trainee away from the table of patrons, adding an extra sway to her hips as a distraction from burdgeoning mutters of "I'm paying good money for this."

"Men," Milena snorted with a theatrical roll of her eyes as the two reached the relative safety of the bar. "Give them an inch and a mile's gone before you can blink. But Candy, girl, you have to learn to work the floor. You've got a good thing going here, but if you get too many complaints Rob'll kick you to the curb. Alchemy's got a reputation to maintain, and he doesn't have a lot of patience, you know?"

Clarice blushed crimson, "I know! I know!" she sighed and tried not to look upset, "I just...I didn't expect things to be so hands-on, you know? Especially when they're not paying me for it," she looked Milena in the eye for the last bit. Money-grubbing whore was a safe role. "I give the freebies, they don't get to take them at will."

The older woman threw her head up and laughed as if the girl had just told a particularly charming joke. "You are new. I'll give you some advice, honey: never give it away for free. You're a valuable commodity. They have to pay for the privalege." She moved her hand from Clarice's back to her shoulder, making the movement slow and lingering enough to read as suggestive to any onlookers, and gave Clarice a wink. "They come to us. Remember that and you'll go far. Far as you want."

Clarice smiled and licked her lips suggestively, trailing a few manicured fingernails down Melina's arm. Two can play for the onlookers. "You sound like you know what you're doing." she agreed, looking over the older woman's shoulder to check her tables quickly, "I need to get back. Don't want someone to jack my tables."

Again the older woman threw up her head in a laugh. Throaty, easy, and false to the core.

"That's a girl."