Page 33 of Contention

Bianca wants to hit on men; Kara isn’t in the mood.

The flirtatious bartender grins. “A bit more naked than this floor. This is the tame lounge; people are able to get a little naughty here, appreciate the atmosphere. People who are looking to screw go upstairs usually. There are some private rooms for…certain types of play.” She makes a slapping motion with her hand. “Basically, this floor on steroids.”

Kara mulls that info over. Nothing she hasn’t really already heard before, but they really consider this floor tame? “I’ve heard the upstairs requires people to sign…non-disclosure forms. Why is that?”

Now, the bartender’s eyes narrow a bit. “Because, our client’s privacy is very important. Why else?”

Sensing that she’s walking on eggshells now, Kara shrugs and says, “Just curious.” Then, she wanders off.

Kara looks around for Bianca, wandering the floor, hypersensitive of the faces now turning towards her, looking at the exposed flesh of her chest. Her blouse isn’t unbuttoned down to her navel or anything, but it’s giving enough of a show, that’s for sure.

Anxiously, feeling her flesh heat, Kara wonders if this is what it’s like to be considered meat. Eyes, hungry, crawling up and down her skin like spiders.

Finally, she sees Bianca chatting up a gentleman in a three-piece suit in the far corner, animated with her hand gestures. Her red hair makes her stand out like a beacon, a fiery color in the dim lounge. When the man’s hand cups Bianca’s rear, Kara rolls her eyes, downing her drink, wondering where the bathroom is. She’d like to hide from all of this for a few minutes, feeling overwhelmed. Feeling on display.

She doesn’t like feeling this way. It makes her feel weak and sheisn’t. She’s always been good at picking up guys with no intent of ever learning their name. Sometimes just for some quick fooling around, nothing serious. Someone to use and throw away, just a moment to forget the awful emptiness that fills her ribcage.

Somehow, she realizes that makes her no better than Calais. Perhaps she had it coming. He was her karma for all the hurt and broken hearts she left behind.

After asking one of the roaming half-naked servers, Kara finds the bathroom, lit with an eerie green light. She feels like she’s stepped into a horror movie, like out of a gothic drama with black marble and extravagant furniture.

She quickly shuffles into one of the stalls and squats to do her business quick. When she leaves her stall to go to the sink for a wash, a man stumbles out of the stall next to her, still fumbling to get his dick back into his slacks. Kara blinks slowly, wondering if she’s gone into the wrong room. But no, there are no urinals.

The barbarian notices her staring at his junk as he drunkenly fumbles with it. “What? Never seen prime beef like this before, love?” He wiggles it at her in what he must consider a charming fashion, uncut cock and all.

Kara would face palm if she didn’t need to wash her hands. Slightly nervous to be alone in a dark bathroom with a strange man with his cock out, Kara washes her hands, saying idly, “You don’t look like a lady. My bad.”

She’s trying to not stare. Really.

He finally gets his fucking meat under control and back where it belongs, coming to stand directly next to Kara, leaning his hip against the counter top. There are plenty of other sinks, but he chooses to get in her space overbearingly. Very drunk, likely. She glares at him, tilting herself away from his space invasion. “It doesn’t matter which bathroom here,” he says with a slight slur. “The second bathroom was being used for other things at the moment.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake, people! Let a bitch piss in peace. Giving him a scowl from behind her mask, she orders him to wash his hands. With a dark chuckle, he reaches for her and she yelps, cursing him out colorfully before fleeing the dark bathroom, nearly bumping into another man who strolls in.

The new man grabs her around the waist, laughing. “Whoa, careful there! You almost knocked me over. Are you alright?”

Do all the men prefer the women’s bathroom in this place?Unbelievable!

Irritated, anxious, and completely fed up with this place that sexualizes everything, Kara yanks out of his grasp and escapes.

Feeling flustered and out of place, Kara goes outdoors. It feels like stepping into the night sky, walking out onto the outdoor terrace. It’s a huge stone deck overlooking the city, the lights twinkling all over the horizon. There are clear glass walls around the high edges of the deck, making it near impossible for anyone suicidal to fall. The night air is chilly, but there are fire pits and heated lamps spread out around the area. Small drafts of heat flow towards her as she looks for a place to collect herself.

She sits on an open lounge seat and uses her free hand to clutch her blouse somewhat closed. It would likely be odd of her to button everything up, when clearly the goal here is to be as sexualized as possible. It feels like all eyes are boring into her.

Luckily, the outdoor area is less populated than the indoor lounge.

There’re two couples, hovering against the dark corners, speaking in hushed voices, giggling occasionally. In addition to them, there’s a few intimate groups spread out amongst themselves, talking, drinking, smoking. The outdoor seems to be where the tame people reside. By the far stone benches and fire pits, a group of distinguished men stand chatting with animation, a light blonde in the center with a dark, slate grey mask on his face. He doesn’t seem to be a server, but he’s certainly not a member. Kara stares, wondering if he’s the second owner of theDark Mirage. He stands with an air of pure confidence and those around him seeming to gravitate to him.

As she watches, he pulls a small little metal capsule out of his pocket, raising it to his nose, inhaling sharply.Cocaine, likely.

As Kara’s watching the group, someone sits down beside her, his warmth a beacon in the slightly chilly air. “Hello gorgeous,” the man says, his arm coming behind her on the seat.

Kara twists her lips at him. “You can’t even see my face; I could be a complete hag under this mask.”

His mouth moves in surprise at her response before closing quickly. His light eyes drift over her exposed cleavage, the cleavage Kara is trying to hide by clutching her blouse somewhat together. “I highly doubt you’re a hag. You have too sweet a smile.”

What a suck-ass! Kara is almost impressed.

A warm hand settles on her thigh; he has a few large rings on his hand, no wedding band in sight thankfully. His cologne smells fresh and it reminds Kara of how thirsty she is. She needs to wash the alcohol away with a nice cool glass of-

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