2014.07.09 Sugah and Candy
| Sugah and Candy | |
|---|---|
| Wyck finds that not all Candy melts in the hand at Babylon | |
| IC Date | July 9, 2014 |
| IC Time | Night |
| Players | Wyck, Candy, Rose Doyle, Branton, Julie (old), Ariel Rose |
| Location | BabylonOld |
| Spheres |  
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Babylon
Ahh, Babylon. This floating nightclub is a unique feature within the city, changing its location every week to a new spot by dawn Monday morning. Only open at night, Babylon is more of a traveling rave that seems to carry the same theme and staff more so than a legitimate business though few could a better operating 'party' in town. Babylon utilizes abandoned warehouses, old buildings and the like as its temporary nest, installing a wide-array of lights, tables, booths and such to accomodate their patrons to give it the feel that every night at Babylon is the same no matter where it lands.
The layout is fairly standard. As you walk into the club and along the near right wall is the long bar complete with the large, black and gold sign above it which reads 'Babylon' in silver. Along the near left wall are the curtained booths for small groups that won't fit at the table. The booths come equipped with privacy curtains that can be closed to allow any degree of privacy the patrons would enjoy. On the far wall, opposite the entrance, are a series of tables that are arranged so that patrons can either watch the bar, the dance floor in the middle of the room, or the stage at the far end. The wall that is opposite the entrance, tucked in the right corner, is the stage - a black platform that stands approximately three feet off the floor so that any performer is more easily seen. Stairs on either side allow people or staff to walk up and down more easily. Tucked in the corner between the stage and the bar is the DJ's booth - also set up on a small riser so that he or she is more easily seen.
Since babylon can't redecorate the walls of whatever space they are in, they tend to illuminate the walls with different colored light to accentuate the mood. Silvery White for the bar, Green for the tables, Gold for the stage, light-blue for the dance floor and red for the booths.
An hour or so until midnight and the floating rave is in full swing. The music is thumping, the dancers are pumping and and more than a few of the patrons are off hump...well, at least they try and keep the curtains closed around the booths. Wyck, one of the underwear-clad shot-boys, seems to be working his way around the room walking around in a pair of navy blue underwear with white piping with a tray of plastic vials full of colored alcohol.
Even a floating rave has regulars and Candace Kane is one of them - or Candy as she prefers to be called outside the sphere of her professional interactions. In fact it could be safe to say she rarely misses a week. She comes in tonight, as always, dressed like candy: meticulous patent leather pumps, black backseam stockings, skirt with a hem falling two inches above the knees, enough to be provocative yet without crossing the line into suggesting her body is for sale. She has never come to the club on anyone's arm and this is no exception, although she does not look lonely or resentful of going out stag. On the contrary, her demeanor is sharp and...predatory.
Wyck leaves the bar, having refilled his shot tray and starts to make his rounds. Spying Candy's entrance, he offers her a curious look as he doesn't remember her - though it has been more than a year since he was a shot-boy here. A few of the other regulars, shot-boys, bar-boys, the roaming dancers in their stockings and leather - all give her a nod or a wave hello. "Howdy Shug," Wyck greets in a southern drawl. "I've got some sweet stuff here...oh, and some cinamon, apple and rum shooters."
"'Shug'?" Candace puts her hands on her hips and looks the young man over with unashamed assessment. "I don't believe you've ever tasted me have you? Cause if so surely I'd remember!" She moistens her lips and then glances at the shots on the tray. "I like sweet, but I don't like to be controlled by it, if you take my meaning?" Still, she fishes into her purse as if in search of a wallet or money.
"'Conversation is free' my ass!" Candy snorts. "You're trying to tell me I can hold you up all night here flirting and talking about excitement we'll never actually experience without buying a single drink and you won't mind and your boss won't mind and all the other women that think you're a piece of Turkish Delight won't mind?" Her head shakes minutely. "I don't *think* so." She pulls out a folded bill whose denomination is obscured and clasps it firmly between the forefinger and thumb of her right hand.
"So what'll ya have?" The shot-boy asks, doing his best to flex this and that muscle without looking like he's trying to show off. He's not skinny, by any stretch of the imagination. He's not hairless either. He's all natural. While standing there in his underwear, barefoot and with a hint of expensive cologne and man-musk, he holds out the drinks for the woman to chose from. "Well, I -do- have to make my rounds. Everyone else will get jealous if you keep me here without buying something. Oh...and tipping -is- appreciated. Growing boy gotta eat, ya know?"
Candy's gaze drops very pointedly to the crotch of the young man's underwear. "Growing *boy*, huh?" She lifts a single eyebrow as she regards him once more. Her fingers tap the folded green bill against the side of a glass seemingly chosen at random. She doesn't intend to drink it and she makes no pretense whatsoever of such.
Wyck withdraws the vial from his rack and holds it out for the woman with one hand and holds an reaches for the folded bill with the other. "Well, it's early. I still got plenty of time to grow..." he smiles a little and glances up and around the club to see what the other crew is up to. Three more shot-boys are working the room and two women, who dance here and there, meander around to the private booths for lap dances. All in all a fairly standard night here at Babylon.
It's a hundred-dollar bill.
Candy takes the vial, looks around in search of an employee responsible for busing and keeping the area clean and promptly places the untouched shot glass on a tray. "What's your name, Growing Boy?" she asks the young man.
Wyck glances to the bill and hushedly explains, "Uh...I can't change this Sugah..." The music changes and his eyes bloom to life as it's playing a pre-arranged song. As is the tradition at Babylon, the boys and the girls, seperately, have their own songs to dance to. The guys are called to "Save a Horse, ride a Cowboy," and that's just what starts to play. Groaning, the shot-boy sticks the hundred down in his underwear and calls back, "It's Wyck..." and heads off to join the other guys in a choreagraphed routine. Julie has arrived.
"Keep the change," Candy smirks as Wyck stuffs a bill down his underwear and takes off to join the other shot-boys for a choreographed dance number.
After a few moments the dance is over, people cheer and the guys - now sweaty from a full on dance production - return to their respective jobs. One in particular, wearing blue and white underwear, walks back over to the table where he was waiting. One the way across the floor he stops by a few tables here and there - where people just feel the need to place money in his crotch. It's amazing. He flirts, he smiles...and eventually returns. "So... anything else, Shug?"
"My name's Candy," the woman sniffs as she looks over Wyck when he returns. She's standing against the bar with a cola in her hand, including the plastic red cutlass speared through a maraschino cherry. "That sure was a naughty dance for a growing boy."
Wyck smiles wickedly. With the long hair, the tussle of it back behind an ear and with a smile that would make the fathers of teenaged girls just want to grab a shot gun...he knows how to be dangerous. "I'm out of practice," he begins and then adds, "Been out of town for a while." With that he is given a stern look from the bartender and quickly appologizes to 'Candy'. "Be right back, I need to make my rounds." As soon as Julie enters the current location of tonight's rave, she freezes, just the combination off an odd style music for a rave and the less than upscale locale seem to have her captivated. It litterally takes a break in the song to bring her back to her senses, at which point she starts to head towards the bar.
Candy waggles her fingers and smiles at Wyck as he heads off again. She lets her gaze drift over the expanse of the room, one end to the other, taking in the crowd, those dancing, those clinging to the wall, the implied presence of those clustered together behind curtains in booths.
"Something blue that glows under a blacklight." Always a good drink to start the night off with. Well anything random such as that is good for Julie. "And fizzy." Can never forget that part. She trades some cash for the drink and turn around to survey the room again. This time looking more at the people than the venue.
The drink is quickly put together for Julie and slid placed on the small, square napkin with the stenciled 'B' on it for Babylon. While Wyck continues to flirt and sell his wares at the table, he occasionally shakes his grove thing in sync (get it?) with the music and eventually he wanders by Julie. "Apple, Cinnmon, Rum and Berry..." he explains holding up the tray of small, alcohol-filled vials. "Can I get you one? Only a dollar but tips -are- appreciated."
After a moment of surveying the other patrons in the floating rave Candy's attention slides back towards the bar where Wyck has paused to interact with Julie. Candy's lips curve up into a feline smile as she observes the shot-boy clad in blue underwear. She smiles. She smiles and half-closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, deeply, then exhales slowly....One, two, three, four....
Julie litterally has that fresh drink in her hand as she is approached by Wyck, which she does set aside to pull out another fiver from her pocket, "I'll take two of them. One for me and one for you...though since you're on the job I guess I'll just have to drink both." Rose arrives with Branton. She has her hair up in a high ponytail. She's wearing a pink, fluffy tanktop that shows off the skin of her belly, some jeans that might, quite literally, be painted on, some wedges .. that are tennis shoes... a jacket. And she's also dragging Branton, quite literally, in the door. SHe's managed to get him into something moderately appropriate for the venue. She pays, then takes him by both hands, walking backwards, dragging him along. "An hour. JUST an hour. Pleeeeeeeease... pretty please. It will be SO much fun! I promise!"
"Sure thing," he answers Julie. Must have been that shot that he took for table 5 but Wyck suddenly feels woozy. Yup, seriously woozy. His eyes go out of focus a bit, he looks around confusedly and then he draws a visual bead on Candy as though she just said his ass was flabby. Oh HELL naw. His usually mirthful gaze has now grown sharp and frustrated. Though nothing is said, verbally, one can almost hear him say, 'Really? That's how it's going to be' in his face, posture and overall vibe. "I'm going on my break Ron," he decides and sets the tray of vials inside the bar before heading to take a seat opposite Miss Melt-In-Your-Hands.
<OOC> Wyck says, "Music Change: http://youtu.be/cZRgSdb91MI"
Branton blinks and rubs at his eyes as he gets dragged along into Babylon. His outfit for the evening is a fitted black tank top, a non-negotiable leather jacket, fitted black denim jeans and black leather biker boots. Couple that with his shiny bald dome and pale complextion he doesn't stick out of his surroundings too much. "Okay, an hour. Or so."
Candy's eyes flutter open right when Wyck sits himself across from her. She looks to be on the woozy side herself, though perhaps a different flavor of it. Did she actually drink the shot she bought from him earlier -- plus several more? No, the look in her face is closer to...well, something other than alcohol, put it that way. "Hello, Wyck," she drawls, smiling at him, smiling like a cat, smiling like you'd really want something of whatever she's having.
At your table, Wyck asks, "Having fun?" his tone is polite and civil but there's an air to it that's a touch on the frosty side. Like all good southerners he's able to smile while he talks smack about someone. Still a bit woobly, he slides into a chair and shivers at the chill that crawled up his spine. Hey - he's only wearing underwear and the seat is cold.
The couple of shots that Julie bought from the now-on-break-and-gone Wyck are quickly downed with no ill effect. Then she moves to take the real drink she bought earlier, which someone may or may not have slipped something into (Never leave a drink unattended people), and finishes that too. While seemingly fun and different, it doesn't look like the rave scene is Julie's cup of tea. So she starts towards the exit.
Rose grins at Branton and nods, dragging him further in, her body already falling into the rythmn of the music, hips swaying. "Let's get a drink first!" She lifts her voice to call out over the music, turning around, still holding Branton's hand, sweeping her way through the crowd up toward the bar.
At your table, Candy runs her tongue over her lower lip as she looks Wyck over. "Why yes, I am. Thank you." Her brow furrows a bit. Frosty? He was so charming, so positively warm and cordial a few moments ago. She glances away, then meets his gaze again. "Did I hear you say you were taking your break?"
Branton follows where he's led, looking around at the crowd and the club atmosphere with a mix of anxiety and astonishment. "Sounds like a plan to me." Branton calls back to Rose as he turns his gaze towards the bar, rather urgently not wanting to get seperated from her.
Rose holds tight to Branton's hand. She weaves her way up and finally comes to rest at the bar. She places Branton's hand on the bar top to anchor him and leans, waving a hand in the air briefly to get attention. She's still bopping along to the music. "What do you want to drink?"
At your table, Wyck nods, "Yup, and I'm not taking it with you. Just don't do...whatever that was, again." And he stands up.
Wyck stands up from the bar after having said something in a hushed, nearly insistant, if polite, tone to Candy. Yup - not wanting to make a scene where he's working. Taking a moment to cool off, he heads for the men's room for a moment.
Branton is trying to look everywhere at once as he and Rose move with the crush of the crowd over to the bar "Beer." he manages to respond. He doesn't look strung out or anything just like he's not used to the enviroment.
You could almost hear the record scratch. You know that sound they have in every movie or sit com where the music stops, the record scratches and everyone just looks at the guy who asked the 'wrong' question. Beer? Ron, the bartender, leans in and begins to rattle off their spheel, "We have micro-brews, local brews, Pale Ales, lagers, stouts and an interesting selection of Meads...but don't ask me where the hell we get it. What'll ya have m-man?"
Rose grins over at Branton and nods. Once she gets the bartender's attention, she makes her order, yelling over the music. "Guiness for him, a couple of Hot Jizz shooters, and I'll have a Dewey Peach Pussy." Well then. She's either making predictions or drink orders have gone beyond Sex on the Beach. She wiggles along to the music.
Guys walking around in their underwear with crotches bulging so much you'd swear they day-time as a porn star? Women dancing around so erotically that one would guess they're missing a few ribs or were blessed by a few extra vertibra? Lights pulsating here and there. Dancing. Sweating. Is that guy getting head in the booth over there? Nah...just shadows. Is that woman doing Ice at her table? Nah... NOTHING like that happens at Babylon.
There's no verbal response when Wyck leaves the bar. Candy stares a hole through his back as he heads off toward the men's room. Once he's out of sight she settles her tab at the bar and prepares to leave.
Wyck returns from the bathroom after a moment and walks behind the bar to get something, a cellphone. There, behind the bar, he quickly turns it on to check for some messages and replies to a few texts - glancing up to those gathered nearby.
Branton looks at the little drink speculatively before he shrugs and slams back the offered shot. A little gasping noise is made, he wasn't expecting the cinammon to actually taste like it was on fire, and he grabs his beer to take a gulp.
Rose grins at Branton, blinking. Her eyes are watering. Thank ALL THE GODS for waterproof mascara and eyeliner. She reaches with a napkin to dab at her leaking eyeballs. "I'm going to LA next week!" she yells over the noise. "One of the guys from the street art fair last month wants me to do an instructional vid for youtube! Can you believe it?" She's still bopping along to the music, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she sips her drink.
Branton grins and nods at Rose as he sips a little more at his beer, trying to catch his breath. "Sounds like a ton of fun, you'll finally get to see how impressive you are when you paint."
Rose shakes her head, grinning at Branton. "I know I'm hot stuff." She sips her drink happily. That was everclear in that shot. Doesn't take long to work. Her movements are already a little looser, a little lazier. "But I'm excited. He's paying me a thousand bucks for the video and that gives him all the rights and I get to do an entire parking lot."
Rose is at the bar with Branton. He has a beer, she's got a cocktail. They're chatting, yelling over the music.
Ariel wanders on into the Babylon. He's not playing a set tonight. No, tonight Ariel is just plain old unassuming Ariel, not DJ Khilwat. He'll greet a few familiar faces here and there before making his way to an available spot at the bar.
Branton sips at his beer and grins at Rose "Just keep my card handy in case he doesn't actually own that parking lot alright?"
Rose laughs at Branton, leaning a little bit in his direction so she doesn't have to yell QUITE as loud. "You should come. That sort of thing always has street musicians and things like that. It'll be great." And she won't have to borrow her mother's car that might or might not need an oil change and the tires rotated.
Branton nods and grins at Rose, giving his beer a swirl as he considers "And maybe I'll bring a blanket and some of my chainmail jewelry to sell if it's going to be a faire type deal?"
