Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to SCW Community Forums. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Queer.; [Enter the Atomic Redhead]
Topic Started: Oct 20 2009, 11:03 PM (138 Views)
Kris
Member Avatar
Accept no substitutions!
[ *  * ]
Quote:
 
Even though I say it in the narration, I'm also going to make a note here; the song lyrics used are from 'Queer' by Garbage. That being said, I hope you enjoy it! :)


Shirley Manson's low, sensual voice humming along to the beginning chords of 'Queer' is what greets the listener's ear as the scene opens in what could be any random subway stops on the continent of North America, the source of the music a pair of distinctive white ear buds that are slipped into Brianthe's ears. The volume is turned up to maximum so as to drown out the sounds of the urban world around her. Not that she minds the whoosh of the trains going by too much, of course… she just wasn't in the mood to listen to the vapid conversations of the Joes and Janes that were stuck in their cookie-cutter lives. Besides, an iPod was a surprisingly good 'creepy bastard' deterrent. Not that it stopped them from looking, of course… but that was something she was used to dealing with. She welcomed it, as a matter of fact - Hell, with the way she was dressed, how could she not?!

[align=right]Hey boy, take a look at me… let me dirty up your mind.[/align]

Atomic red hair pulled up into a high ponytail, her curves are barely contained by the brilliant red bra she's wearing. The lacy cups are visible over (and under) a low-cut Wumpscut tank-top, the white cotton almost tight enough to have been painted on. A black kick-pleat skirt that's almost short enough to be considered a belt covering her hips, the buckle-heavy knee-high black leather boots she's wearing have a high enough chunky heel to force her pale legs into looking as good as possible. Arms covered in a myriad of bracelets and a thick leather collar with multiple o-rings around her neck, her brilliant blue eyes have been carefully lined in kohl to make their color pop even brighter. Why the difference from the last time she was caught on-camera? Simple; she's not wearing colored contacts today. Sighing to herself as she glances at the watch that's almost buried in red and black jelly bracelets, she then lifts the straw of her cherry Slurpee to equally-crimson lips, taking a sip as she shrugs a little to coax the strap of her simple black canvas messenger bag back into its proper place.

[align=right]I'll strip away your heart veneer and see what I can find.[/align]

That motion draws more attention to herself in a way that she doesn't expect in getting someone to stare without looking away. It wasn't your standard look of longing, though… those were something she was used to dealing with. No, this one was burnin' a hole right through her arm as if it could work its way through to the perfect, pale flesh of her bust. Was he trying to figure out if her nipples were as pierced as the rest of her, or was he perhaps pondering if the proverbial carpet matched the curtains? The left corner of her mouth twitches upward slightly.

[align=right]The queerest of the queer. The strangest of the strange.
The coolest of the cool. The lamest of the lame.
[/align]

Glancing over out of the corner of her eye, she finds it ridiculously easy to catch the culprit in the act. If the tall, leanly-muscled blond metrosexual was over twenty five, she'd eat the straw that she takes another sip from. It's obvious that he's used to getting what he wants, what with how he's eyeing her without an ounce of tact or shame; considering the women out there that lack the sense to know that his charcoal-colored suit only wishes it came from Armani, that's not really a surprise. Flashing a smile that's too bright to not see bleach on a regular basis, this confident young man is quick to notice when she turns her head to look at him fully.

[align=right]The numbest of the dumb. I hate to see you here.
You choke behind a smile, a fake behind the fear…
The queerest of the queer.
[/align]

Without knowing just what he's getting into, he seals his fate with a wink.

[align=right]This is what he pays me for. I'll show you how it's done.[/align]

Both corners of her mouth turning upward with a slight smile, she glances away coyly before meeting his gaze once again. Confidence sparks in hazel eyes that have probably bewitched many a sorority girl over a plastic cup of beer… but it's painfully obvious to him that it's going to take more than the memory of cheap booze to get into Brianthe's panties. Taking the inability to chat her up as a challenge instead of as a deterrent, he smirks, raising his hand to wave at her cockily; his smile makes the easy change into a smirk when she returns the gesture. When she finds herself having to use her hand to push her messenger bag's strap high enough on her shoulder to not have to worry about it again, she makes sure that her hand lightly brushes the side of her breast; his eyes, taking it as an invitation, rush to lock there.

[align=right]You'll learn to love the pain you feel… like father, like son.[/align]

She doesn't need to hear it to figure out that he's moaning low in his throat as he takes her in piece-by-piece, his eyes raking over the rest of her frame before focusing back on her bust. The way that his eyes flutter partway closed is all the more she needs to know how she's affecting him, but he's unaccustomed to a woman that is so tuned in to the outward signs of his desire. It's only a mild surprise at best that he decides to make it painfully obvious. Reaching down, he's not at all shy about adjusting himself to be more... comfortable. It's the closest thing to a gutsy move he's made so far; what comes next makes him think that it was worth it.

[align=right]The queerest of the queer hide inside your head.
The blindest of the blind. The deadest of the dead.
[/align]

Finishing off her Slurpee, she turns to more fully face the young man as she easily tosses the empty cup into a nearby garbage bin. Some of that icy treat lingers on her lips; despite it being the wrong color to match up with a certain protein-based excretion, she knows full well the power that a woman can wield with the simplest of movements. In a manner that's as vaguely sexual as a porno, she licks it off, the briefest flash of silver revealing that her tongue is pierced. Beside her, the train pulls into the station, a slight wind bringing her hair and skirt both into motion.

[align=right]You're hungry 'cause you starve while holdin' back the tears.
Choking on your smile, a fake behind the fear…
The queerest of the queer.
[/align]

As the guitarists go into their mini-solo, Brianthe watches as he finally figures out that he's got a pair of balls tucked away somewhere in those knockoff slacks. Reaching up to run his fingers through the bleach-tipped spikes of his hair, he licks his lips before smiling in a way that gives away how hungry, how starving he is for her. To spur him on, she returns the smile faintly; while it's still largely mysterious, there's enough warmth for him to be encouraged. In front of her, the doors glide open with a ding that is drowned out by Shirley's dulcet tones taking control of her band's song once again.

[align=right]I know what's good for you… (You can touch me if you want.)[/align]

A few overachievers - some would simply call them smart commuters - are quick to get onto the car but she lingers, her left hand toying with the black canvas strap that holds her messenger bag up as her right rises to gently guide an errant bang out of the way of those smoldering eyes. As the press of people to get onto the car increases, the other people turn into an obstacle course for the young businessman; ultimately, it is a force that he cannot overcome as another ding brings on a final rush. Swept up by those last-minute boarders, she steps onto the subway. He rushes to catch up to her, getting to the doors…just as they glide closed.

[align=right]I know you're dyin' to… (You can touch me if you want.)[/align]

Their gazes lock for a moment, his desperate and hers hard-to-read… but she holds up a pale digit for him to wait a second instead of walking away, keeping his hopes alive. Pushing her way through the small crowd to a free seat on that side of the car to ensure a place by the window, Brianthe fumbles around in the depths of her messenger bag, pulling out a red pen and a notebook. Quickly scribbling on the first blank page, she waves to get the businessman's attention before holding her written message up to the window for him to read, the train pulling out of the station.

[align=right]I know what's good for you… (You can touch me if you want.)[/align]

In your dreams, asshole.

[align=right]But you can't stop.[/align]

The redhead can't help but giggle at how his face falls, his hopes crushed beneath her high-heeled boot. As she turns her back to the window in order to take her seat, Brianthe sighs softly, a slight smile tugging at her lips. Was what she had just done to that young man cruel? Certainly… but there's only one final thought tossed toward her latest victim as she changes songs, the haunting sounds of the Cruxshadows replacing the outright provocative Garbage that had been playing.

He deserved it.

Everything fades to black as the Atomic Redhead crosses her legs properly, eyes dropping most of the way closed as she relaxes.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Register Now
« Previous Topic · Character Development · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Etavarium Theme created by Zeus00 and converted by Wolt of the ZetaBoards Theme Zone