Behind The Veil

Normally he valued every opportunity to shuffle his ass down to Hollywood and check out Fredericks. Hot salesgirls, hot lingerie, hot actresses shopping at the legendary boutique, what wasn't good? Unfortunately some angry god had touched someone at Vivid and it had been decided that he would be contracted for just enough money to tolerate the presence of his least favorite person ever for eight hours a day. And today she wanted to ruin-er...go shopping at one of his personal little meccas.

"Marty! MARTY!"

The siren call of the urban skank, he thought to himself in David Attenborough's voice. Observe the contrast of her plumage against her surroundings, the better to attract any male with low standards in the immediate vicinity. He took a few quick steps to catch up to her, wondering why anyone thought porn stars merited personal assistants. Especially mediocre screamers like Cherokee. Maybe he'd get lucky and a real Cherokee would take offense and shoot her.

"IN HERE! I TOLD YOU, FUCK, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE! What the fuck are you looking at, Marty, you'd better start paying some fucking attention boy, cause I am going to tear right through this shit and you'd better keep up."

Or she'd get hit by a Jeep.

He smirked and chuckled a little at the thought, cushioning the blow as he swayed out of the way of the swat she tried to lay upside his head. He'd take a hit from a packmate or Peyton, but not some hyper-entitled human bitch. Not even the Arch-Jenna, Jameson herself, was worth getting treated like a punching bag. The urban skank or 'whore' as the locals call them, has spotted her prey and now begins the subtle, delicate dance of predator and prey, Attenborough narrated in his head as Cherokee stormed up to the doors of Fredericks and wrenched them open. Lloyd trailed behind, his hands in his pockets and his head down. If she got him banned from Fredericks of all places, it was going to take some serious restraint to keep him from flat out decking her.

"CAN'T I GET ANY FUCKING SERVICE AROUND HERE? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

Still silent and most importantly, still hanging well back, Lloyd watched Cherokee descend on a salesgirl. Separated from the herd, it is too late for the retail employee. Her sacrifice ensure that the cycle of life continues and spares her fellow salespeople from the predator's hunger. The unfortunate clerk quailed at the assault on the eyes, ears and dignity that Cherokee was, then lead the still-squawking 'actress' off in another direction. He took that as a temporary release, turning away to look over the nearby merchandise. While he was here, he might as well do some shopping, after all.

Mae twiddled her thumbs as she sat in the black Lexus and was awaiting the arrival of her dope dealer. Flipping through the stations on her radio, she didn't notice a man dressed in a business suit tapping on her illegally tinted windows until he finally decided to knock. She slowly turned her head to see Rafael, whether or not that was his real name, she didn't know nor did she care to know. Unlocking her doors, she allowed him into her car then drove off to a place she intended on shopping afterwords.

Fredericks of Hollywood.

Parking the furthermost portion of the lot, Mae turned off the car then shoved the keys into her breats; manuevering them underneath her bra so he couldn't run off with them. The pink and white striped tank top was low enough to do her little 'careful, careful routine' so she turned to smile at him with a pleasant glow about her unflawed facade.

"Got something special for you, Adriana," he began, thinking the same about her name cause it didn't fit with her French appearance, "This shit is pure MDMA and I have to say that I fucking love it. Think you're gonna like it more than anyone."

The Glass Walker's grin widdened, nearly slicing her face in half as she watched Rafael remove a square mirror from his breifcase. He handed the piece of mirror to Mae then proceded to acquire a vile that was approximately an inch or so in size from the zipped pocket in the breifcase. Mae's eyes never left Rafael's body movements just in case he wanted to rip her off or something and even though this deal had gone down many times before, there was little trust between a so-called addict and her drug lord.

"Now, this shit is pure, Adriana, so it will hit you really hard when you snort it. The effects only last about three hours which is not what you're used to, you know?" he informed her then tapped out a line of white goodness.

Before Mae was going to snort anything, she offered her hand for the small glassware and nodded her head for him to oblige her with handing it over. He did. The Galliard inspected it with her eyes first, noticing nothing but pure white powder, then began taking in its scent to see if anything caught her attention such as vanilla. Taking only a very minute amount into the palm of her hand, she rolled it around to feel if there was any oily residue then decided that it had to of been what Rafael promised it would be.

Pure Ecstasy, literally.

Mae licked the palm of her hand then handed the vile back to her drug dealer with a satisfied expression on her face, "Yes, Rafael. I like."

"Very good, very good. This line is free so here's a bill to snort it with and let me know if you want to purchase the rest which I'm assuming you're gonna do," he replied while handing her a hundred dollar bill.

Rolling the bill into a makeshift extender for her nose, Mae quickly snorted the drug then took in a deep breath as she rubbed her nostrils to make sure everything went into the back of her trachea. The feeling was incrediable and not even Mae could deny that Rafael had supplied her with something that she could deny. Of course, she wasn't big on snorting drugs but this stuff was totally worth it so she unzipped her torn blue jeans to reveal a white pair of painties that were packed with around seven hundred dollars in U.S. currency, ranging from tens to hundreds.

Rafael had turned his head when she started undoing her pants; just out of respect if nothing more, and brought his attention to his lap when her hand was sitting on it; the palm facing upwards. He placed the remainder of the MDMA back into her hand then glanced at her to notice that she was holding money in her other hand.

"Four," he smiled, "But for you, I'll do three-fifty."

Exactly what Mae held in her hand was three hundred and fifty dollars. As she handed it over, Rafael gathered his things and got out of the vehicle to walk over to another, getting inside, and driving off. She smiled to herself then placed the vile down into her bra just as she pulled the keys out and stepped out of her vehicle to go inside Federicks.

The walk across the lot wasn't too tiring and Mae strode right into the lingerie shoppe with a shit-eating grin upon her face. It was true. The ecstasy had already hit her like a ton of bricks but the smile disappeared when a banshee's voice pierced her ears.

"CAN'T I GET ANY FUCKING SERVICE AROUND HERE? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

Mae stopped to notice a very good looking man standing a few feet from the screaming woman and watched as the woman was escorted to another place of the building. Now that she was fucked up, the Galliard wasn't afraid of anything and her shyness had become non-existant so she made her way over to the man; a pretty smile adorning her features.

"What the fuck?" she asked him with a quizzical eyebrow raised and a small giggle in her voice, "She fucking nuts, oui?"

"If you got bad news, you wanna kick them blues; cocaine. When your day is done and you wanna run; cocaine. She dont lie, she dont lie, she dont lie; cocaine." Lloyd murmured his way through the racks, ignoring Cherokee's harpyesque wails as she ordered the salesgirl around the store. When he sang under his breath, it was quite an improvement over his usual off-key, off-rhythm attempts. It still wasn't 'good', but it wasn't 'ear-bleedingly awful' either.

His solo venture was abbreviated by a question behind him. Immediately, the galliard straightened up. French accent, feminine tones. Very promising indeed. He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked around, first at Cherokee to make sure she was too busy haranguing people to bother him, and then at the woman who'd approached him. His slightly stressed non-smile turned to a sly grin.

"Oui. Yes." He shot another look at Cherokee as she threw a handful of thongs at her attendant. Wincing a bit, he shook his head. "She's worse when she's not in public. It doesn't seem like it could be possible, but...oh, it is." He held out a hand to his new acquaintance, trying to remember if the cards were in his right pocket or his left as he compared her accent to Kathleen's. "Marty Wright. And I'm going to guess you're from...France? A friend of mine's got a similar accent." The smile turned to that trademark Hollywood grin, all confidence and glamour.

While her high was continuing to climb, Mae lulled her eyes for a split second as she mentally undressed the extremely fine guy standing a mere foot from her. It would have been fun just to take him out back, fuck his brains out, then go on about her business but what would that prove? Other than she was an obvious whore. No, the Galliard didn't want other people to just merely think of her as some cheap streetwalker so she sighed aloud and listened to what the guy had to say; all the while her mind was buzzing with impure thoughts.

"Oui. Yes."

Mae blinked her placid blue hues then arched a brow at his translating what the word oui meant in French. Holy shit, maybe he knew how to speak French and he was damn good looking, this would end up being the best day ever but that was quickly shot down when he started speaking in un-accented English.

"She's worse when she's not in public. It doesn't seem like it could be possible, but...oh, it is."

A scowl came over her face at the thought of that banshee being any worse than she was at the very moment she walked into Frederick's. The image brought shivers over her body and she physically shook herself to keep from even thinking about them. Watching the banshee throw an array of lingerie at another person helping her, Mae didn't even notice that he had held his hand out for her to shake until he announced his name.

"Marty Wright. And I'm going to guess you're from...France? A friend of mine's got a similar accent."

The Glass Walker quickly slipped her hand into his firm grip and shook, her head nodding as she admired his gorgeous smile. He knew somebody with a French accent which meant that they could be introduced and she could finally get to know a person that could speak a language that she swore nobody else in the United States to speak! This really excited her so she broke their shaking of hands and allowed her fingertips to trace the palm of his hand just because of the physical contact her drug demanded.

"Yes, I from France. English not so good but I try, oui?" she smiled beautifully then giggled from influence of the ecstasy, "I Maëlle but you call me Mae."

Glancing over to find the banshee, Mae gritted her teeth slightly since she couldn't find her but then again, she was hardly able to find herself at the moment. She wanted to ask Marty if she was his girlfriend, wife, lover, or whatever simply because she knew just how angry women got when they seen their significant other talking to another pretty lady. And she was attractive, hell, she was damn fine, if she could say so herself. Turning back to look at Marty, she couldn't help but finally ask the question that'd been worrying her.

"Not be nosey but she girlfriend?"

Moment by moment, Marty was getting sexier and Mae was desperately fighting the urge to throw him on the floor, suck his face, then leave with her number stashed in his pant's pocket. She needed to know if he was the banshee's property before doing anything and the fact that she was remarkably fucked up was not going to help her if she needed to rip someone's head off. And that would be a definate buzz kill. Nobody wanted that...

"Call me Marty," Lloyd responded, noting the way her touch trailed on. His grin bobbed briefly as she looked over at Cherokee-whatever that shrill bitch was doing, he didn't care to know about it right now. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't look-that's what they were paying him for. His search lasted a little longer than Mae's, as it had suddenly gone a little too quiet. The predator has sunk below the waves, hiding herself as she pursues further prey, his inner Attenborough dictated.

He caught Mae's movement, looking back to her as she turned back to him. Her question made him laugh and shake his head emphatically. "I might have terrible taste in women sometimes, but fuck no. Not her. Pardon my vulgarity. I'm just...helping her. For work." He slowed down his speech and spoke with more care to his pronunciation, to make it easier for this interesting diversion to understand him.

"MARTY!" Ah. There she was. Craning his neck and flashing a pained expression, Lloyd finally located Cherokee, standing behind a rack with the salesgirl and holding up a bra that looked more like string than anything else. "TELL THIS BITCH I'M NOT A FUCKING 34 I'M A 32!"

"You're a 34DD, Cherokee," he called back to her, ignoring the outburst that the furious pornstress shot back at him as he returned his attention to Mae. The skank has initiated a dominance display. Observe her plumage and her attempts to summon the male into her battle for superiority. It's for naught-she must do this alone. Lloyd smirked at his internal narrator, then shook his head. "So what brings you to Hollywood? Trying to be the next Brigitte Bardot?"

Keeping her gaze over Marty's damn good looking body, Mae subconsciously sucked her bottom lip into her mouth then flashed a seductive glance at him. It was becoming harder to keep her more carnal desires kept locked inside but when he laughed and shook his head...

Get your game face on!

"I might have terrible taste in women sometimes, but fuck no. Not her. Pardon my vulgarity. I'm just...helping her. For work."

Mae giggled when he slowed down his speech and was careful when he pronounced his words just for her. That was a sign of a gentleman and also meant that he was respectful which every woman liked, well, all of them except those banshees. All they demanded was servitude and obviously Marty was her chauffeur for the day or however long she wanted him for. She wondered what he did for a living and how he was working for a woman that looked like a two-cent hooker. But who was she to judge? Hell, she was so messed up on ecastsy right now that she couldn't really even think of anything other than just touching someone.

Then the alarm sounded.

"MARTY!"

Oooh, Mae's head ducked as if the banshee's screech could have been a spear and it nearly sliced a line in her hair. The sound caused her skin to crawl but she kept her eyes on Marty's body which she admired as he looked over her to speak with the banshee. They argued over something ridiculous and Mae's hands were finally placed over her ears to muffle the sound. The Galliard sighed then contorted her lips into something funny then abruptly removed her hands from her ears when Marty brought his eyes back to hers. He smirked which Mae barely noticed and listened to him speak.

"So what brings you to Hollywood? Trying to be the next Brigitte Bardot?"

"Brigitte Bardot?" she retorted then thought about why the name rang a bell, "No, no. She more beautiful than I. My home here now."

Mae decided that just a kiss wasn't too much to ask and slowly moved her way closer to Mary where she laid her delicate hand on his chest then whispered into his ear, "I love game. Want to play?"

Giggling to herself, the Glass Walker softly placed a kiss onto his cheek and allowed her lips to linger on his flesh for a second before pulling away. She blinked her placid blue eyes then started laughing, "I play. Why you in Hollywood? You next John Holmes?"

The thought caused a supressed childish laughter while she covered her mouth and shook her head as she couldn't help herself but to laugh. It was humourous in her mind but if he didn't take it that way then oh well. He just wasn't any damn fun and she wanted to play some kind of game while she was fucked up; besides, playing with mortals had always proved to be fun. Especially trying to get one to go home with you while being with someone else and it was a thrilling chase, indeed.

He didn't stop her from moving in closer, despite his growing realization that she sure was high as hell. Choosing between the raging harpy and the utterly blitzed frenchwoman was no contest, however. Playing games with stoned chicks was a lot more fun than getting yelled at. The kiss got a grin, the question a derisive snort. Turnabout might be fair play, but cock size aside, he wasn't entirely on board with being compared to a guy who narrowly avoided dying in prison by managing to die of AIDS first. Then again, most people really only remembered Holmes' 'foot long'.

"Not Holmes, but maybe the next Scorsese. Or Aronofsky. Or Nolan." He smirked again, watching her eyes dance. Oh yeah. She was high. "Or anybody short of Boll or Schumacher." He checked Cherokee's position again, finding her contentedly bitching out the second sales associate that had arrived to aid the first. "What kind of game did you have in mind?"

He stepped back, lining up a display between himself and his horrid charge. Beckoning with one hand, he urged Mae to follow him, making sure he was well blocked by the trio of mannequins. "I know a lot of games," he said to her, low enough to be out of the hearing of the other women.

"Not Holmes, but maybe the next Scorsese. Or Aronofsky. Or Nolan. Or anybody short of Boll or Schumacher."

Mae shot Marty a confused expression since she had absolutely no idea about who he was talking about and was trying to figure out what the hell he was referring to when he spoke again.

"What kind of game did you have in mind?"

She smirked then whispered almost inaudiably, "Sexual."

Watching as Marty took a step backwards, the Galliard rapidly blinked her eyes then followed him as his hand commanded. She was normally the dominant one but maybe she could play the part of the submissive and how well she played would determine if he was worth playing with. Placing herself extremely close to his body, Mae slipped her hands into his while he lowered his voice so only she could hear.

"I know a lot of games."

"Does he now?" she thought and pulled herself closer to him, the physical contact causing her body to heat up. While holding his hands, Mae softly placed her lips onto his but didn't kiss him and trailed up his jawline with them then kissed his earlobe before whispering.

"I am your slave."

Leaning up from his ear, the Glass Walker smirked with a lustful appreciation then moved her hands so that her fingers would intwine with his. She enjoyed holding hands with such a damn good looking man but her more carnal desires were starting to show as she pulled them to her flat stomach and flattened the palms of his hands onto her burning hot flesh. A soft moan passed from her lips while her placid blue hues lulled and she couldn't help but to finally ask him a question that had been buzzing around in her mind.

"We play later? You busy now," she spoke as she forced his hands underneath her tank top up towards the bottom of her bra, "My game bad for here. We meet later, oui?"

Some days, Lloyd couldn't get a break-women ignored him or avoided him or he couldn't say the right things. Some days, it was like he'd distilled concentrated essence of The Artist Formerly Known As Prince and hosed himself down-the girls could not get enough of that Pussy Control. Today hadn't started out as the former, but it was starting to shape up that way. When Mae answered his question about what kind of game with 'sexual', his grin got even larger. This was certainly an improvement on the last time he came into Fredericks.

David Attenborough's commentary came to a grinding halt as the very high chick started getting very touchy feely. Lloyd let her make her moves and he couldn't deny that he was definitely enjoying the show. Interactive exhibitionists were the best kind. His smile went hot and lazy as she ran his hands over her body and he vaguely wondered if this was some sort of new hooker tactic. It wasn't as though Los Angeles wasn't crawling with women eager to sell their dignity for one price or another.

"Just tell me when and where," he murmured to the odd French woman as she pushed his hands up towards her chest. Yes, this was a much better diversion than carrying Cherokee's shopping bags and listening to her bitch about one thing or another in the car. "Anywhere you have in mind," he said, moving his palms that little bit further. You didn't get to be Marty Wright without having a touch of gall.

"Just tell me when and where."

Mae smirked while she continued to slide his hands further up her torso as to better get a feel of what kind of guy Marty was. She was trying to decide on the perfect place for them to, well, get to know one another, so to speak, and as she thought about the subject, the Glass Walker glanced around in order to see if that fucking banshee was anywhere around. Nothing so far... then Marty spoke up.

"Anywhere you have in mind?"

Marty's cooler hands went up further than Mae had anticipated. What a fiesty little thing he was, thought Mae as she continued to keep her hands on his even though she was no longer moving them. Eyeing him lustfully, she released his hands and quickly grabbed his hips; forcing him to close the short amount of distance between them. Mae didn't say a word but merely batted her eyelashes sweetly and all of a sudden, embraced Marty in a hot and passion-filled kiss. She hoped that by kissing him, he'd understand just how badly she wanted to play with him. Besides, he'd already touched her chest without her consent so she just had to top that by doing something a little sexier.

It was just a game.

Finally breaking the kiss, Mae softly nibbled on his bottom lip as a sexy smirk overwhelmed her lips. She decided when and where they would meet up and hopefully it would all be worth it; all worth the secrecy, the exhibitionism, and perhaps even the voyeurism later on. As she smiled seductively at Marty, Mae gently squeezed his hips and whispered for only him to hear.

"We meet on Sunset Strip, oui?" she spoke with her heavily accented English, "No date, we eat and go to my home? That oh-kay? You give hour."

Nodding her head, Mae only asked to go out to dinner because she was starving from not having ate a single crumb the entire day and she believed that they could end up being quite playful during their meal so it was only fair to ask him out. Of course, she didn't want a date with him for this was only meant to be a casual sexual encounter of some kind but he seemed like an extremely nice guy. And she wanted a fuck buddy that she could call whenever the time called for it...

That is, if Marty was up for such a thing which she desperately hoped for.

He saw the kiss coming, not that anticipating it meant he had any intention of stopping it. He let her kiss him, following her lead with just enough fire. Yes, this distraction certainly would be pulling him away from his current engagement if she kept that up. The galliard took a few deep breaths of her as she broke the kiss, that half-smirk settling back across his lips. It almost broke into a grin when she outlined the plan. Dinner and a fuck? What could make for a better night?

He made no effort to escape from her grasp as he pondered her suggestion. "Sure. Two hours from now? I've gotta ditch my...uh...'friend'." He wondered if this might be a setup-hot drugged out chick, luring him off to her place...it would probably be best if he brought the gun. The more he thought about it, the more sense it started to make. He owed some people money, not that it wasn't forthcoming, but cokeheads weren't the most stable individuals at the best of times. They might've decided to jump the gun a little and lure him off.

He took another look over her, mentally shrugging. He'd come armed, but he was willing to take this at face value. The best case scenario, he ate a good meal, then got good and laid. Worst case, he got to wipe out some overconfident dealers and possibly still get laid. Sex or renown? It was hardly fair to ask him to choose. "I'll meet you at Vanellis, if you don't mind getting some italian food? Or do you already have a place in mind?"

Realistically speaking, Mae thought for a second that Marty wouldn't accept her kiss but the initial shock of his lips pressing against hers with the same spark of lust made her own little smirk slither across her luscious puckers even though the kiss had long since passed. She was still hung-up over the whole ordeal then suddenly snapped out of her trance-like state when he answered her question for dinner and drinks; yeah, drinks...

"Sure. Two hours from now? I've gotta ditch my...uh...'friend'."

"Oh-kay," she smiled with her eyes instead of her mouth's surrounding muscles.

The Galliard glanced over the new boy toy for the night and softly pushed herself away from him in order to straighten her attire which merely included tugging her tank top down over her openly revealed stomach. Honestly, she could give a flying fuck if anyone thought of her as a whore, prositute, harlot, or whatever they thought of her, but one thing was for sure, she'd lay it to Marty tonight. That is, unless he refused, which she would find some way to convince him not to say 'No, ma'am', ever again to her. But she doubted his denial for the pleasures of the flesh.

"I'll meet you at Vanellis, if you don't mind getting some italian food? Or do you already have a place in mind?"

Mae blinked her eyes as if she misunderstood him which she didn't.

"Italian, oui," she smiled then leaned forward to place a quaint little kiss upon his cheek, "We get to know one other. I meet you there, two hour."

Turning around quickly, Mae gave him a soft wave over her should as she gazed at him almost lovingly and strode off towards the door then remembered that she had come in here to browse at the new selection of lingerie. She stopped for a split second and decided that the banshee would eventually show her three-headed ugliness so it was best that she left while the getting was good. Afterall, she'd just confirmed a date with a very sexy man and hopefully, just hopefully, he'd voluntarily go to her appartment to indugle in a night of fantasy.

"Mmm," she spoke while pursing her lips at the attendant and pushed through the door to leave.



[Exit Mae]