Aural Fixation (pt. 1)

[Thomas Taylor] The Voodoo Lounge makes its own place in time. A broad ornate structure modelled after the Bozar stylings of the early 30's, it is two stories high and encompasses an entire city block. The only modern mark is the purple neon sign that flashes its name and beckons the crowds to the sunken black leather and silver studded doors. The inside is palatial and pulsing. A black crescent shaped bar sweeps across the room near the entrance. Scores of small tables surround the dance floor in a seemingly random layout, and set discreetly in the rear are booths nestled in the darker corners of the club. The DJ booth is set near the ceiling, and a black and silver balcony traces the whole of the Club on the second story level. A spiral staircase leads to the second floor where the music isn't as loud for more intimate conversations. A short bar serves the upper area and it's clientele.

Tommy had been out most of the day, football had started, premier league, he was up at the crack of dawn (About 8am for Tom) ready to watch the game. He had to have a beer or two of course. Arsenal had a draw...and a lucky one at that. This left Tom in a foul state of mind which in turn meant he proceeded to get smashed.

He most have collapsed about 2pm, and woken up closer to 8pm. deciding the night was young and that he had sobered up somewhat he decided to make a night of it. Putting on his cleanest black T-shirt, his least holey pair of jeans and his new (but wrecked converse) he made his way into Magnificent Mile.

Past the drunks, the homeless, the hookers he went into the first club he came too. After a small but heated argument over how much to get in Thomas finally enters the scene. His short hair had been trimmed recently and he shaved yesterday giving him that rugged look that he would swear women loved.

His eyes scan the place, the name had lured him in and now stood just past the entrance he takes in the nightclub, and wonders if perhaps he should fine somewhere else downmarket.

[Morgan Lake] There's always a club of the night, and it cycles amongst the hottest places with the best sounds - some places are full of pretty people, and they tend to flock together. The Voodoo Lounge is no different, when Thomas walks in; the music is loud, pulsing, and this early leans more towards the pop, rap and R&B end of the spectrum. Even this early, it's starting to get crowded, but it's not so much so that familiar people with familiar looks disappear. There, on the dance floor, largely by herself? Is a young redhead in a short, white, drape-y dress of a sort that he may or may not have thought he'd see her in, given the way she usually dresses.

The flowery orange sundress has nothing on this.

She dances alone, and doesn't seem to mind; while she's certainly a pretty girl, there's that aloof reserve and obvious air of holding back that marks her as a snob, or elitist, or something. Here, moving with abandon and singing along with the latest song spinning, it's almost like she's a different girl.

(One who can't remember the last time she came to a club, or rather, purposefully doesn't.)

When Thomas' eyes scan the place, it's not difficult to find her . . . though he may or may not recognize her immediately, given how very different she seems here, even from a distance. Apparently, she's having a good night. That may well be why she came out, to force one.

[Thomas Taylor] His right hand moves to his left and turns the loose watch there. Jesus, he just gone and walked into a posh place, shit!

“’member Tommy, a captain an it’s cover...damn robin name though.” He snorts, then with his usual cockney swagger he makes his way to the bar, putting a hand on it and patiently waiting to get served, all the while cursing as this night was suddenly looking like it would cost him and arm and a leg. It’s not that Thomas was short of cash, he was not but if you asked him he tell you a lot of it was stuck in ‘investments’. He never goes into what type of ‘investments’ though.

Still nothing ventured nothing gained he counters himself, perhaps he’d get lucky? Still he was here now so make the most of it. “Bottle of whatever passes as larger, shot of tequila and a whiskey chaser, double” The barman nods to him, when he returns Thomas puts the money down and downs the tequila neat, then as his face scrunches up in shock revulsion of the taste he downs the whiskey and slams both glasses one with either hand on the bar and slides them to the barman.

He shakes his head taking a moment to ensure he can keep both down. His intention of course was to make sure the afternoon session had not gone to waste and ensure he got drunk as quickly as possible...

That’s when he scans the place, eyes moving from face to body, face to body face to...“Bloody gypsy...” He eyes the dress, the legs, the movements, he takes a swig of his beer as he gets ready to brave it and then she swings around her face...Le Fay...eyes widen, a moment of realisation crosses his face. Thomas coughs and sputters, the beer in his mouth gets spat out in shock of the sight, this man next to him gets some on his shoes and pants and glares at Thomas grabbing his T-shirt, Thomas barely seems to notice eyes on Morgan, her movements, her dancing...

Only then do his eyes cut to the other man “Sorry mate, get yerself another one.” He holds out a note...a tense moment goes by, will he take the money or will they start a fight.

[Morgan Lake]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Morgan Lake] [Random dude about to get in a fight with Tommy]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Thomas Taylor] ((Die))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Another one)

[Thomas Taylor]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Morgan Lake] There's a punch in the shoulder, but it's more a bro-fist than anything malicious - a bit hard, but that could be down to this guy being the bull-built jock type. He waves away the note, grins, and goes about his business, which is apparently talking with a group of friends and proceeding to get as hammered as they can while watching the girls they came with gyrate on the dance floor.

It's strange, really, the dichotomy; people here tonight seem to be feeling really good, or really miserable. The guy with the spilled drink and Morgan? They seem to be amongst the former group, though here and there, the place has people who are really pissed (a guy arguing with a young lady who's presumably her girlfriend, a group of girls huddled together talking a mile a minute while one or two of them cry into their drinks). There's very little in between, and while Thomas had been at first? He already feels his mood nosing down.

Stupid footie game, not turning out right. It can ruin a day, that sort of thing can, and his temper is growing fouler by the moment. Quite frankly, he's pissed (by the American meaning, not the English).

Morgan, on the floor, is oblivious to much of this - she's feeling so. very. good that the only thing she really can do is dance. She can't remember the last time she felt this way, and joy shows in her movements. They lack any particular skill or grace - she's not a bad dancer, but she's certainly not a good one either - but there are a few eyes drawn into the sheer pleasure she all but beams around the place.

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas shows the man he will not back down; it is in his eyes, his face, and his stance. Tom holds the money up for him then lets the breath go with the punch. Tom takes a few deep breaths; it was his fault, manners...He puts the note back in his pocket.

He takes a breath hand goes to his pocket fingering his smokes, as he leaves them. Instead he walks closer to the dance floor, eyes on Morgan. Should she see him while she is dancing he most certainly is checking her out, subtle went out the window with that dress she was wearing.

Thomas was now suddenly glad he had that conversation with James; otherwise he might have felt bad... but in his current mood there’s a chance he would not have cared. He stops just off of the dance floor as he sits at one of the empty tables, bottle of bud put down beside him as his hand searches the table for the ashtray and brings it closer his eyes not leaving her...then he realises he is staring and with a curse he pulls his gaze away as he bring a cigarette to his lips and lights it.

It was not just the dress (a large part of it though) or he had a soft spot for red heads, it was the change in her, the confidence she suddenly seemed to have, how much more...grounded she seemed to be for no better term. It helped keep his mind off the game, the draw but that foulness gnawed at the back of his head. With a grumble he smokes, eyes going to and fro from Morgan, his initial intention to go dance subdued by his mood.

[Morgan Lake] Frankly, Morgan is very rarely lacking in confidence (at least as it appears on the surface) despite that closed off feeling she gives almost everyone. She's confident in her intelligence, her looks (she's rarely the prettiest girl in the room, but she's certainly above average), her athleticism, her ability to learn (which is more important than her current skill set), and so much more besides. The problem is that much of the time, she could well be one of those 'old school Potters' that Thomas dislikes so. Tonight, though? Tonight's different.

There's no ashtray on the table (or inside any establishment in Illinois), though there's the faint smell of smoke that says a few people are sneaking their cigarettes here and there despite the ban on such things, as people are wont to do; rules are there for the breaking, and so on. Up in the DJ booth, there's an announcement thanking some corporation for the new equipment and saying how great it is, and that the DJ will be back up and spinning shortly, but here's some slow stuff to tide them over. All around the floor, couples and small groups start dancing, and Morgan makes her way off the floor (not without a brief accosting by someone radiating as much pleasure as she, and a flare of that up herself attitude), and notices Thomas sitting there.

And yes, she notices the look she's getting; it makes her smile. Even Morgan likes to be appreciated for her aesthetics every now and then.

"Hey," she says, light and easy, and moves to run a hand over his close-cropped hair briefly; there's no way to avoid being close enough to touch, given ambient volume, if they're going to talk at all. "What're you doing here?" It's late enough that he could ask her the same question. She should have been out an hour ago.

[Thomas Taylor] Thomas still smokes, you tell someone to take it away from him and you’ll see one pissed off Englishman explode. He watches her walk over; he is confused and certainly looks it.

Then she runs a hand over his hair...she touched him. In the few times he saw her she never really touched anyone. Okay there was that running to a coffee shop, but that was different. Last time they met she looked practically assaulted; arms closed in and looked like she should run. He turns to her one eyebrow raised at the question as two thoughts cross his mind.

One wonders what got into her that would make her this way, the other says never look a gift horse in the mouth.

He takes the cigarette from his lips, he tilts his head to blow the smoke away from her “Well Le Fay, sorry form from the boys in red left me wantin’ as it were, so put on sum threads, an came to check out the night life...” He smiles to her, even in his foul mood he smiles, that mood looked like it could be changing.

“Don’t fret ‘bout Tommy pet, am a night owl, cud say the same ‘bout you, ‘ho you out with?” She was dancing on her own, but she did not seem the type to go out on her own, not in this day and age dressed like that. “Oh an may I add you look...” He gets stuck for words, trying to filter what he was going to say, she was posh totty he could not say any of them so he just gives her the ‘A-ok’ sign... and internally cringes as he does.

[Morgan Lake] She doesn't seem the type for a lot of things, really, including the way she leans in, just so - not calculated, per se, the fetching way she looks. But you don't get to be one of the golden ones without at least some clue of how to work it.

"I didn't mean what are you doing here now, really. It just . . . doesn't seem like your kind of place, is all. Granted, I don't know you all that well, so who knows?" There's a pause, and then, "I'm here by myself, actually. Just felt like going out, dancing, and having a drink or two."

He may not know exactly how old she is, but he knows she's not old enough for drinking at a bar, and one can hope she intends to take a cab home - or walk - if she's drinking. She seems a smart enough girl to follow the basic rules of common sense, but one never knows. Then there's thought on the rest, and a wrinkled nose, and laughter.

"Your soccer team lost? Psh. It's almost time for real football, you know." It's teasing, that, and obviously so; she doesn't care any more about one than the other. "And . . . thanks. I don't dress up often, anymore." Which means she used to, at some point; it's almost wistful, but that goes away quickly.

[Thomas Taylor] He leans in also after she does; he looks at her and listens his eyes try and remain on her face but when he thinks she is not looking it wanders over her torso. He raises a hand when she says soccer and then that statement about real football but he smiles as he does “Pet, let’s not go there, you don’t want me callin’ you a heathen an tryin’ to argue you out of yer sinful ways.” He remembers then that she should be dressing up quite a bit, daddy’s little girl right, high society.

He looked her age give or take a couple of years putting her between 17-19, in England you can drink at 18, most kids were trying to do it at 16, he was at 15. Gives you an idea of what Thomas thinks about the age limit for drinking.

“All out on yer todd eh pet, pretty as you please.” He gestures to the bar “Got lured in by the name, sounded pretty robin...an well once I paid in, you know wat they say in for a penny in for a pound.”

He drops the cigarette, placing his foot on it and turning it to ensure it was put out. “Wat do you know pet, am on me todd as well, we sud make a session out of it?” He grins, a cheeky grin. He was use to getting his way in England, but that was a different country, different people almost a different time to him. Over here Thomas was finding getting his own way to be very, very difficult

[Morgan Lake] Morgan, too, is used to getting her own way - or was before Awakening, at any rate, though it happens considerably less often now than it used to. She still doesn't like that, hasn't grown accustomed to not get what she wants with a smile, or a cheerful request, or by trading tutoring for it; there's no doubt that Morgan could likely have just about anything she wanted out of most people.

Most normal people, that is.

"I like playing soccer. But I like watching football." That's with a shrug, and it's let go easily; it's remarkable how different she is here, tonight, how relaxed. What's 'todd' rhyme with that you use it for 'own'?" That's curious, with a furrowed brow; she's started picking up on more and more of his slang since she realized what he was doing, but there's some that still throws her. It's odd, and she never was any good at most foreign languages despite her smarts and near constant exposure to many from a very young age.

Then, as an afterthought paired with just a bit of blush, "Thanks. Sometimes I miss it, you know - but it's weird being on my own." As she's talking, the DJ resumes his place and starts spinning again - those extremes that they're witnessing (and their own extremes as well; in a moment, Morgan's nearly sparkling, effervescent and impossible to look away from) only grow more so as they watch, as an argument over there progresses to blows, someone over in that corner is ecstatic over something, and yet another person over there moves from agitated, upset talking to incoherent sobs.

"Is a 'session' like a date? It's been awhile." That with a thousand watt smile, one that fails to lift a temper that wants badly to rise to offense at just about anything. "Do you dance?"

[Thomas Taylor] ((Can Thomas sense anything....Per & Awareness))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He smiles; it was getting faker and faker. “Todd Sloan Le Fay.” He pulls out another smoke “Ain’t fuckin’ rocket science...” He snaps, eyes half close, he was not sure for what but decides there is not point apologising. “Pet am in a foul bloody mood...”

“A session is a drinkin’ session...” A date, he was in no mood for a date, on a normal day that would have brought him out, but not today, today he was a brooding pit of anger, undirected anger. He looks around him, looking at people, the shifts and changes.

Then he is back to her, that smile drew him back and he eyes her again...”Yeah pet, I dance.” He crosses his arms though. Still he might be able to knock someone over on the dance floor, perhaps start a fight as they uncross and he holds out his hand a wicked smile coming to his lips “Can I ‘ave this dance Le Fay?” As he puts the smoke away

[Thomas Taylor] ((Wits and Engima))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Morgan Lake] An eyebrow raises at the snapping, but it doesn't put a dent in her increasingly bright and glowing enjoyment of what's going on around her. She can tell he's angry, sure, but she has no idea why (not any more than she realizes she's happier than anyone's seen her in months). It's troublesome, this, and she's taken aback by the attitude that she almost never gets. From anyone.

".....who's Todd Sloan?" But that's only in passing, and followed by, "I just may have to let you buy me a drink, then. And yes, you certainly may have this dance."

She lets him take her hand, pull her up and towards the floor; the closer people get to the DJ booth, the more extreme the moods seem to be. What Thomas senses is definitely Working, and not the sort that bears Morgan's resonance - where it is, exactly, is anyone's guess. What it's doing is a mystery as well. What he does know is that when it was steady when it was piped in music, and the extremes didn't start getting more so until the DJ resumed his spot and started spinning again.

Despite it being a fast song, Morgan dances close - as stated, she's not the last of the great dancers, but she's not bad, either. She's also keeping an eye on Thomas, puzzled by this very different part of him than what she's seen before, but no less pleased to be here, to be dancing, to be with him . . . to just be.

[My oh my, something's going on. Per + Aware!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He leads her to the dance floor, pulling her in as soon as they hit the floor, this might ease some of that anger, some of that rage. Thomas moves with a grace you would not expect from him, fighting or dancing he was use to moving his body being in tune with it and he could feel a beat. “Todd Sloan, means alone pet, it rhythms with alone.”

He brushes some hair from her face, pushing it just behind her ear. His body was moving with hers but his mind, his heart was not in it. He too was puzzled, but it was blinded by rage, the world was through glasses of anger then he looks upwards...the smell of magic in the air, the increase of it as the music started again. Thomas puts his hands on Morgan’s hips bringing her in close to him, his mouth mere inches from hers their bodies pressed together. His grip was tight, that anger had a focus and Morgan might be thankful it was no longer directed her way thought still present in the man. He leans in his stubbed cheek pressed against hers, a throaty anger whisper in her ear

“The DJ, Le Fay you feel that?” Of course at the moment she felt a great many things, his muscled chest pressed against hers, his tight grip on her hips...but he of course was referring to the booth above them.

[Morgan Lake] [whoa, dude, you're kinda cute. how did I not notice that before? what? (WP for focus!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Morgan Lake] There's blinking as he draws her close (and she presses closer still), as she watches his lips come so close to hers. It takes a moment for her to realize what she's saying, and by the time she does, it's not inches that separate their lips. It's a breath, a hair, until he turns to press his cheek against hers. She knows he's pissed off, but it's not piercing her bubble of good time, of feeling good.

"I . . ." It's spoken back in his ear, and yes, she feels it, feels a consuming sort of resonance; it furrows her brow briefly, though she's having a difficult time being troubled by anything right now. "Yeah, I feel something. Don't really care about the DJ, though - I'm more interested in who's right here." Her dress is tight around slim hips and the fabric thin; she moves in his hands so, and it shifts just a bit, rising just a bit higher on her thighs.

[Thomas Taylor] ((willpower to keep his mind on whats happening, not whats happening right here.))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] That distracts him, completely, he was angry, rage filled but in that moment it all shifted, changed still anger and rage but it had a hint of something else, it had lust thrown into the mix. His head draws back but always some part of his face touching hers, he moves his face over her’s his rough stubble cheek and skin giving a rough feel as it passes his nose against hers as he looks into those eyes. He was the consuming nature she sensed, consuming came after the hunger, and he was hungry.

He lets her move his hands, fingers touch thigh, feels flesh as is right hand grips her left thigh and raises her leg up by his waist as he leans in with an aggressive kiss. All that negative emotion, rage given form, his lips strong on hers as his other hand stays on her right leg keeping her balanced. His lips press against hers, the hand on her leg that he rose to his waist moves to her cheek keeping her in the kiss fingers tangling in red silky hair.

.....in his mind a voice, drowned out by the void that was consumption was trying to raise its voice The DJ booth you plonker, the DJ...the music

He mouths into the kiss ‘DJ...magic’

[Morgan Lake] The feeling of magic consuming is not just him, though Morgan doesn't say so - doesn't know she should until after he's kissing her (and that effectively drives thought from her mind completely for a few seconds, as there's nothing quite like bliss. Even in his temper, he can feel it seeping from her, drawn along by that consuming resonance, whatever it is. Wherever it's coming from. Needless to say, she kisses back, as hungry and needy in her own way as he is; that leg stays up around his waist, hooked over his hip, and he can feel the warmth of her as she can of him.

"I know," she mouths back, and lightly bites his lower lip. "Now. 's not so bad. D'you know what he's doing, or for sure that it's him?"

[Stay with the conversation, lady. You can do it! (WP, +1 diff for zomg he's touching me and it feels good)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Focus, focus....Tommy focus!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He growls as the kiss ends and she bites his lip, his blue eyes widen slightly, there is no mistaking the lust there, the passion mixed in with two scoops of anger and a dash of rage. He wants to do something, at least he thinks he wants to do something but he finds himself unable to leave her embrace, unable to move his hands from her, in fact they move over her. His right stays on her cheek, the other on her left thigh moves around just raising the dress a little more as finger nails run over her left ass cheek now she was held on with her leg.

His breath was getting sharper, his heart starting to race as it does, a small redness creeping into his cheeks as the excitement started to show on his body. “It’s coming from the booth Le Fay.” His voice low, throaty like a man does when he wants a woman to know he is interested, like everything was a suggestion. “Don’t know if it is him...” He leans in and with passion kisses her neck, biting it ever so slightly but not to mark (He still had rage) “Luv, mind, can you block yer mind...” He has had a mind shield before, but he could not do it himself.

He could not think, her body pressed against his, all those emotions most of them dark, in fact this might not have a happy ending if he did not gain control, anger, rage and lust can drive a man to dark, horrible things... He was barely keeping himself from throwing her to the ground right now.

[Morgan Lake] [WP, we'll stay at diff 7, HAIL KAHSEENO]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Morgan Lake] Most of Morgan's high-running emotions are, at the moment, light - she's pretty 'blissed out', to use the parlance, and kissing and a hand on her ass aren't tempering that in the slightest. No, indeed . . . he growls, stares, and there's carefully leashed intent in every movement. Morgan, even when she was a virgin not so long ago, was exactly an innocent; she's young, but no stranger to lust. (She's eighteen, for goodness' sake. Of course she's not.) This lust, currently, is shared; he leans in to kiss her neck, to bite (she's a fair skinned redhead - it will mark whether he means it to or not), and her head moves to the side to allow it.

Then there's that question, voiced against tender skin to rumble through her, and her hips arch towards him with the beat of the song, as if she could get any closer without removing clothing. It takes a moment for the words to cut through the haze, but then she nods, almost reluctantly.

"Can't for you, just for me. And not very well."

But there it is - an attempt, anyway. And as the set goes on, it's getting worse - those rising emotions roiling into a nearly visible shimmering fog over the dance floor. Consuming, indeed.

[I really should care more that something's touching my mind, wtf? Mind 1, coincidental, -1 practiced, +1 lack of focus]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Thomas Taylor] ((a moment of clarity, please Kaheeno!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Morgan Lake] ((Er, she wasn't exactly an innocent. Stupid typos.))

[Thomas Taylor] He stops, he is still holding her close, indeed he does not let go of her but the kissing has stopped. Still held in his arms, still that anger in his eyes he looks upwards the first time he has taken his eyes from her since they hit the dance floor. “Do it luv, get yer noggin’ clear...” He then looks back to her and with some impressive willpower does not push his lips against her skin. That pale porcelain skin. The sad part was he actually wanted too which made fighting the dark anger lust even worse.

His hands stay on her, in fact he stays pressed against her unwilling to break this contact they had with a lustful glare ee stares into her eyes, stares like he was looking into her soul; he sees himself in those eyes and works his own magic

((Landscape of the mind, Correspondence 1, coincidental, -1 practised. -1 foci, concentration merit))
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 10 (Success x 2 at target 3)

[Morgan Lake] It helps a little bit, but really, the effect is more than an apprentice can handle - is more like disciple strength, though there are flaws, more than one might expect for someone who's reached such a level. Up in the booth, Thomas knows, the DJ is only doing his job; he remains relatively unaffected because of the headphones through which he's listening to what he's doing. It's somewhere between the rig and the speakers that whatever's happening goes on, or perhaps a combination of all of it. He can see Morgan's rudimentary Mind ward, weak and pulling more of that rising energy into her, even as her resonance competes with the ambient one, in stark contrast to how Thomas' own works with it fantastically.

It's tiring her quickly, frankly, making it harder to resist even with that check in place. And the more she pulls into her, the more the effect batters back, wanting what it's been put in place to take. And all Morgan want at the moment? More kissing. More bliss.

[WP, chica, up to diff 8.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Wp, be strong Tom, be strong))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] Tom looks back to her, he notices how she did not move from him, he was losing this battle as well...”Le Fay, we ‘ave to do sumthing, otherwise...” Otherwise what, Tom gets to have sex with Morgan, angry sex at that...the animal, the emotional side was telling him it was okay, basic primal urges taking hold, he would be a man...hell if he was any more anger he might have gone to a caveman state, hit her over the head and carried her back to his cave.

He still had enough sense, and for what he wanted to do he needed movement, he needed heat. He leans back in kissing her, his movement’s solid but at the same time fluid. The hand on her cheek slips behind her neck as he kisses her deeply. Hand on the ass moves up no doubt showing some of that ass to the crowds and flesh gives away to fabric and strong fingers work up her spine.

With how close they are Morgan would no doubt feel the tightness in his pants. He was just a man and so much passion, anger contact had other telltale signs save for a rapid heart racing and flustered cheeks. “I just need a few minutes....no wait that sounded pete” He says between his kisses “not like that...for this....oh crap...” He kisses her again and he cannot think, cannot explain as he uses there heat there movement to cast.

((Electrical vision, to see the electrical current around him; focus on the DJ booth, where the power switch is Forces 1, confidential, -1practised, diff 3))
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 6 (Failure at target 3)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Willpower to carry on and not keep kissing the sexy redhead))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] ((Extended, +1 diff, +1 for actually kissing the redhead and not focusing on magic))
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Morgan Lake] There is absolutely no doubt what Morgan wants right now; why she might want it is a question, but not one that either of them is likely to think of here and now, with Thomas' hand running first over her butt (who knew the girl, such a prim and proper thing, owned frilly, lacy knickers? But with the dress she's wearing, of course a thong is essential) and then up her back, with his lips on hers, and her answering the kiss with heat that spirals higher. The emotional miasma immediately surrounding them thickens, and whether it's what she can't help bringing in or what the effect is pulling out of her (them) is anyone's guess. She kisses hard and deep and with her leg still wrapped around him so there are as many telltale signs given by her as there are by him.

I just need a few minutes, he says, and though her leg drops to the floor, she kisses back ardently, fervently, vigorously and is only barely holding onto thought.

[Prime 1, Watch the Weaving, practiced, no focus]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Morgan Lake] [and WP to relate to next post]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Morgan Lake] And yes, there is a power switch - there are many, in fact. There's a bundle of wires and cords and several power strips all on, all dangling over there by the booth. To get there, though, Thomas will have to let go of Morgan. And who wants that?

[Thomas Taylor] ((There is not plan B, plan B is the toilets right now...how common))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thomas Taylor] He wants it to; perhaps the worst thing was he actually wanted it. He lusted for her, that’s not to say Tom could not love, he never did love at first sight and like her he was 20, young, not innocent but Morgan was what he considered out of his league, posh totty. He had suffered heartbreak, a love not returned. He was harden, he had lived harden a lifestyle Morgan might or might not be able to relate to: Tom had faced wars, he had faced battles, he had suffered and been stronger for it.

The hand on her neck stays there moving into her silky red hair hair and gripping it tightly. He was the man, base primal anger, rage, lust and want made him act in this fashion, there had to be no mistake that was in charge and it was him. He pulls her head back as he kisses her neck, no biting just lips that seem to be everywhere at once. The hand on her back races back down past her behind and back under the lose of skin too much to bare. His hips tighten to make sure he leg does not loosen, has a firm hold...

Then in bated shallow breaths...”Come on...” Who knows what he means his lips on hers, his keep deep penetrating but his eyes were open and focused on her eyes....the reflection, the heat, the touch the movement.

((Fuse has blown...Correspondence 2, matter 1, forces 1. Coincidental, never tried before trying to tripping the main fuse thereby stopping the music and power to the building, Diff 5, extra sux on keeping the fuse out of action)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Success x 1 at target 5) [WP]

[Thomas Taylor] ((Extended, Diff 6 now))
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Morgan Lake] Everyone will blame the new equipment, when the time comes to blame something - of course that was the reason a fuse blew in a well established club on a Monday night. What else could it be? No one will be able to explain the feeling, though, the extra fights, the depression, the ecstasy and because it's not something that can be explained, most will forget. There's a crescendo of emotions first, as feedback screeches through the speakers immediately before the lights go out and sound dies; Thomas is a man, and a dominant one, but Morgan is no shy, shrinking violet. Now, both legs come up off the floor and wrap around his waist, hitching her skirt a little higher in the process, and she kisses him hard, licking and biting in the process.

Ah, modern, liberated women.

"Take me somewhere nice-ish. I've got money." He may be in charge - he's older and past his apprenticeship - but she's not requesting. All around them, security's herding people out and the bar's closing for the night (the bartenders are guarding the coolers as some of the more angry sorts try to grab bottles with the lights out) due to the power outage.

[Thomas Taylor] ((Can he keep his head?))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Thomas Taylor] e grins, “Le Fay we ‘ave a few moments....” He leaves it open, he did not want to leave it open but he does...it is amazing how primal emotions/reactions will take you. He wanted to say ‘lets leave’ but he was in her embrace, stuck you could say. His desire for her greater now because of this what was unattainable suddenly was. And he longed for it. The sad part was it was no conquest, no seducing the upper class, he was no man under the bed, and she had no husband (that he knew of)

This was a simple matter of Tom doing better than himself in his eyes, a sexy attractive woman (a red head no less, his own age that KNEW magic) wanting him...the magic disguises the fact she was bewitched also. He should guess she was but chooses not to, his mind told him...wanted to tell him she fancied him. She did not, not really but like any human, like any man he justified it in his own way. The fact that she was a potter only made it all the more enticing...forbidden fruit he should not be attracted to her, he should not she was a fucking stuck up potter. But he did and before all this...

Morality spread though out him, no he was not a robin man but he had mortality, he had manners and standards and a sense of right, the man he was demanded no sympathy votes, not on honour, not on actual emotional attachment...the voice in his head talked but he struggled to listen after her words...still he had to ask

“BINGO!” He spins her around stealing a kiss as he does, holding her up easily, Tom was a physical man, and he was not weak. Pet don’t worry ‘bout bread. Am not shy, but...deed done, sorted it, power out” He chews his bottom lip some sense coming into him. The kissing had stopped, his hands had not grabbed her so firmly this time but he could not let go as they danced on her holding her too him.

“Pet...go to yer pope.” He tries to lower her, does he sound like he wants her to go NO he does not, he is trying to do the right thing, the gentleman thing it just was hard and his desire, his lust leaks through...if only he did not fancy her.

[Morgan Lake] [nooooooooow, I roll dice. WP, still at 8!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Morgan Lake] "Not Catholic," she says as if that makes any sense; she knows it rhymes with something, that it means something else, but she's not putting the effort into mentally translating him just now. She doesn't know that she's bewitched; if she were thinking, she'd assume it's the couple drinks she had going to her head, or that she's thought he was at least passably attractive each time she's seen him, or any number of other very logical things. Her lips are against his for that first bit, and her breath, tongue and teeth tease over them before her head dips to kiss his neck this time. Trying to put her down gets her legs down, and a hint of uncertainty in her eyes even as tries to decide whether she should back off or not.

She doesn't, in the end, nor does she jump back to kissing him . . . but a hand does slip into his, hers smaller and smoother than it, and she tugs, pulling him close again.

"Somewhere private," she adds, an eyebrow raised, "as well as nice-ish. Unless you'd rather not?"

[Thomas Taylor] ((will he be a gentleman?))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[Thomas Taylor] There is very little willpower he has left to give, he felt exhausted mentally he had tried to keep the anger back for so long that though it had faded the lust remained, the lust for her he had talked about to more than one person. Lips quiver. Does he see that uncertainly, does he not want to be used...or not want her to feel used?

“Of course I wud pet, yer smokin’ hot, yer sexy, fuck me yer my age an you’re....better than me...Le Fay I’d do ya Isle! and that’s Isle of Wight, rhythms with right just so ya know!” your better than me rings through him. A primal lust gathered inside him the anger going (Slowly) but the man he was could not be happy with that. With a more practiced stroke he once again moves the hair over her ear. Save this time his eyes look to the deed, it is slower more controlled. The lust was there but tempered by something else “Le Fay, I’d luv to take you sum where nice, I will treat ya so well, am not the best buy ya know, am more back of the bus, am not like you yer posh, yer totty an am a common man.” He stayed close to her, heart still racing even as the anger faded to a controllable level...but still there was lust let out of the box it was there unleashed.

“Pet, five star all the way, just say the word!” his hands tighten slightly as he leans in and kisses her neck, if she was aware there was a slight difference the lust was there but something else. A want, an attraction beyond anger...but then again she was a class above him.

[Morgan Lake] [WP down to diff 7 for dissipating effect]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Morgan Lake] It's dark in here, other than security's flashlights as they go around making sure everyone's out, and Morgan doesn't stop to think before pressing close, a hand between them cupping where only minutes earlier his trousers had been taut. "I'm better than a lot of people," she murmurs before wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and pulling his face to hers so she can kiss him deeply, backing up to a wall as she does so; it's interesting, the feeling of being sandwiched between him and the unyielding wall. It's the things that were most a part of them that linger longest - bliss and rage are both fading, leaving them with lust that rocks their resolve, or at least Morgan's.

"I'm saying the word," she says after several breathless seconds of kissing, as security draws nearer their little corner. "And when I say now, I mean now. There's a hotel half a block away."

And there is - they're on the Mile, after all. There's all sorts of glitz and glamor, a shiny veneer over a dark world.

[Thomas Taylor] He is pushed back, when his manhood is clenched his face goes taunt as a moment of bliss carries over him and then she kisses him. But he was common...it fades in his mind, as a gentleman he had given her an out and she had pushed him on, pressed him on if you asked him. His lust was constant for her, just the jack in the box had been let loose all those (Most) undone things had been done.

His lips locked with hers, his need was palpupil in the air, a longing for a girl a boy thinks he can never get... For a moment he was that boy, a twenty year old that had not suffered, a twenty year old that had not died... a boy whose heart moved in that tense anticipation of the next move like everything easy new magic had taken him and though fading lust was there, and the rage and anger that brewed together potion that he wanted to taste, he needed to taste. He did feel like a kid, a young adult for a moment and he held onto it.

“Word taken, wats the bloody name of the gaff?” He was pinned to the wall afraid to move encase she changed her mind, his lips constantly teasing kisses or bites from hers. His want, his need, his lust on his sleeve. As his arms wrap around her lifting her and fully supporting her and without looking (He could feel every space of the club, magic do you not know) and still kissing her with uncanny accuracy he carries her to the exit. Some people stare, the angry ones snarl and more than one might approach them to take a jab at the man that got lucky....emotions had been strung in everyone.

[Morgan Lake] "Allerton Plaza," she says as he picks her up to carry her out - though outside she squirms just a little (such a tease) to be let down. She can hardly expect him to carry her for a full half block, after all, and she's heavier than she looks, given how thin she is - it's all wiry runner's muscle, apparently. It doesn't take long to cover the distance, though it probably takes longer than either would like given that they keep stopping to kiss, to caress, to duck into shadows for deeper kissing and less PG caressing. They get there and go to the desk as if Morgan's been her before, and the man at the desk looks up, double takes.

"Miss Geraint, I don't believe Mr. Paff or Mr. Richards is holding a room at this hotel right now, should I . . ."

"Lake, not Geraint, though I really should meet the twin people keep mistaking me for. Specialty suite, please," she says, and hands over a credit debit and ID both. "One night. Thank you." She's brief and she always has at least one hand somewhere on Thomas; it's not cooling yet, though now that there's a set course of action the urgency is somewhat less. Soon she has card, ID and room keys all in hand, and they're being directed to a room high up, though not at the top.

She'll be wincing the next time she looks at her bank statement, and thanking all that's holy to any culture that she has a job, and financial aid. Then there's the elevator and upupup to their assigned suite. "If you want drinks, you'll have to order them," she says, though she doesn't intend for there to be a lot of time for drinking.

[Thomas Taylor] He moves with her, in all the corners, in all the shadows he might go over pg caressing but there is tenderness there a want a need...until they walk into the hotel.
He is taken aback while she talks, the few words she said he takes in but does not register (yet). No he is in awe a boy living in a mans world and for once looks his age. A twenty year old, being lucky outside his batting range. Yes Tom was handsome, he was attractive and he had charisma, god only knows you could learn to love the man even if you hated him but he might have just stepped into Buckingham place. He goes silent now, and that’s when you notice he does not speak the man with a comment does not have one.

In the elevator he also does not leave contact with her, even attempting to steal another kiss. As it got more up market, more posh there was a fear that it might end.
He follows her now, she is in control, he has left his safety net and when the door opens and he steps in he looks around in wild mouth open awe... “Jesus pet...I mean...bloody hell...” Instantly he goes into his pocket when she says drinks and pulls out all he is worth, most likely barely able to cover the room, $100 dollars at best. He looks to the notes in his hand and curses the day he was born common.
He looks to Morgan “Le Fay, am gonna be straight, I ain’t loaded, I struggle for bread, sorry...” The notes in his hand as he holds them before putting them down. “Le Fay, yer the bomb. Drinks on me pet, as best I can” He was common, more so than her, but he was not cheap, he hit some man before when he was called that so he puts all he has right now in for them and some kind of compensation for her spending.

He was not nervous but anticipation was there, he fully expected her to come to her senses. ..For her to scream to say no, so he stood by the door, muscles tense in anticipation the sweat from the club on his brow, his neck those muscles he liked to hide now showing. He was in great physical condition, no wonder he could fight, or dance ort take a punch.

[Morgan Lake] Morgan is eminently at her ease, here - as if she belongs, as if she's spent a fair amount of time in places like this. It makes sense, really, with the attitude and the way she talks. It's not she and her father who were rich, but her mother and her friends, and the corporation that pays for so much of their expenses all over the world, that sees to it that its high up employees are put up in the best of hotels.

"I don't need to drink," she says, and moves close after kicking off shoes with perilous heels (for her, but modestly low compared to many) the better to stand on her toes and kiss him again - she's fairly certain of what's going to happen now even if he isn't, and so while lust remains, urgency's fled. "I just meant if you want to, front desk's already seen my ID and knows I'm not old enough. Don't have the skills or the fake to make them think otherwise."

But she doesn't really want to talk. She wants to kiss, to touch, to chase the feeling that hadn't been born in the club tonight, but had certainly been brought to the fore and enhanced.

[Thomas Taylor] For a moment he thinks of James. Not of what he said or what lingers but just of James and Morgan. He has no idea what they shared together but was sure it was not this. What did that make him, the cast off, the other man? Perhaps sadly that is all Thomas expected to be and wanting/needing some connection dived into it head long. But still that lust was there brought out but ever present through out there experience, brought to the surface and blossomed, he liked her...

Even as he kisses her he knows this will not last, he was the bad boy; the one on the side...she had only touched him tonight, only caressed him tonight, only wanted him tonight, when the magic was high and in the air like tonight...Not like a park bench early in the morning like James and for a brief second he envies the deaf man, the singer, the pure soul. Then a memory, an emotion. Only thing that would have stopped him gave its permission.

He knew James meant and did not mean it, but it was not just about him, it was about Tom, he was human to, he was like James...no he had not lost his wife, no it had not happened so soon and for that you had to be sorry, to give pause for it. He had suffered though, oh my god had Thomas suffered he just did not share his pain, it fueled him drove him and was now him. This pain, this emotion he gives to Morgan in a way, needy lips on hers, wanton grabs on her skin, he even mutters something in her ear that though she cannot understand the cockney so strange so foreign they do sound sweet, sound wanting...

He pushes her back onto the bed as a man should and moves over her. “Pet, you got the cure to the thirst...the tissue to the issue” He then with wanton lust kisses her neck with hard kisses, a few nips and bites his hand on the straps of her dress and he yanks and pulls them off, rips if he as too as his head raises up and meets her lips again, that wandering consuming nature of his on his sleeve for all to see.

He kisses and caresses her unless she stops him, hands pawing at her clothes, the fabric like a barrier between them he wanted to remove, to feel flesh to flesh contact, to feel something for one night. It was enhanced in him also, the rage and anger distilled, faded to a dull groan on his lips.

[Morgan Lake] "I'm on the pill, and clean," she says easily - remarkably mature amongst the gasps and sighs as hands and lips move over her, as her dress is removed - she tries not to let him rip it, as she certainly hasn't stopped to get a change of clothes for the morning. She doesn't tell him that there's only been one before him, or that she's not sure why she's allowing this with someone she barely knows when most of the time, she's locked up so tight it seems almost impossible to get through. "But yes, I have a condom. Little bag, with my ID and card."

She doesn't know how many he's had, after all, or how many of those have been unprotected, or what skills he might have to help make sure he's clean - better to be safe than sorry, to have an unhappy little surprise. It's a modern upbringing she's had, obviously. While he's getting it, she's shimmying out of her dress so there's no more temptation to simply rip it out of the way - there's no bra, and he already knows pretty closely what else is under there, though he didn't know until now that it was the same color as the dress, with a little pink bow in the front.

[Thomas Taylor] He blinks “Pet, first rule don’t be a fool wrap yer tool...” he was common but not a fucking tit. He moves to the side of her and takes off his pants and his shirt going to his wallet he pulls out a condom and looks to her “Pet, don’ fret.” Then he grins and waggles an eyebrow...

“Like I’d do a bird with no protection. Come on ...” that might tell her what experiences he has had, but at least he is not a fool. Still they were both young, both healthy (Even if he smoked Thomas was in good condition)...

He has had sex perhaps a dozen times before her if he was honest. So he knew a trick or two, and of courses they both had youthful exuberance on their side. Still even as the lust takes him and her he keeps kissing her neck, her face, her lips if she lets him until both are exhausted from the act, and Thomas was more than willing to use her condom as well if she went for another round...

[Morgan Lake] Oh, she will through the course of the night - this is hardly a place that has rooms by the hour, and given how much she spent (no, his hundred dollars would not cover the room), they will be staying the night in the very, very posh room. If they only have two condoms between them, it's possible that they'll need to call down for more, in fact - healthy young things they are. That Morgan is inexperienced is obvious, but she's brave and takes guidance well, so it's a good time for both of them.

In the end? They fall asleep in the large, very comfortable bed, Thomas with Morgan's red head on his shoulder, her hair spreading out across his chest.