((OOC: This story will recount the experiences of Alma and Charna as they explore the dark side of nightlife in Alma's Viennese home. The Vienna portrayed in the following thread, like Alma and Char and any other characters who chose to inhabits its streets and cellars, its clubs and cabarets, its apartments and pieds a' terre, is a work of fiction. Consider it, if you will, a Vienna of the mind, interweaving bits and pieces of the real Austrian city with those of the multitudes of metropolises that its writers have wandered.))

She woke with a start, her internal alarm clock rousing her from just the right amount of sleep. Initially, she met the foreign room with shock, but as clarity reached her clouded mind, she was able to figure out how she got there.

Her night had been rough, and her goodbyes bittersweet. In fact, she'd arrived to meet Alma with tear-stained cheeks, which the woman was kind enough not to comment on. Now recognizing this as her station in Vienna, she felt both apprehension and a sick sort of relief. RhyDin was taking its toll on her, and this vacation was something she felt sure she needed. Yet, that apprehension couldn't be helped, especially when she observed the surroundings. The room had a majestic touch to it, but also something mildly menacing and implied hidden within the walls. The sheets wrapped around her were silken and stained deep purple, and all but begged for passion. There was a window across the room, outlined by velvety looking curtains, equally as rich, which allowed glimpses of the fading sun. Apparently the travel and the previous night's events had exhausted her thoroughly, and caused her to miss most of the day. There was a tray set near the door, which was neatly decorated by dishes cradling breakfast treats. Oddly enough, the pancakes and the omelet both still steamed, as if they knew she wouldn't be ready for them at their normal times.

She slipped timidly from the ever-so-inviting sheets, feet met by a plush rug, which was similar in color, but less desperate for lustful attention. To the wardrobe she crept, ready to see what the day had planned for her. When she cracked it open, her eyes widening at the display; little skirts, glossy black tops, nets, heels, etc. It took a bit of sorting, and a lot of blinking, but finally she picked out the one thing she felt she'd be most comfortable in while feeling this place out. Outfit set on the bed, she retrieved the tray and cleared each plate, her body thankful for the nourishment.

It was about thirty minutes later when the door to the spare room opened, and the Vixen sheepishly emerged. She had chosen the least revealing item, but definitely not the least intriguing. From clavicle to ankle, she was wrapped in black rubber, which exposed her arms, her upper back, a good expanse of chest thanks to the deep V-neck, and one slender leg, which poked through the long slit up the right side, to the thigh. Around her waist was one silver buckle, which she assumed was for adjusting the snugness of the already very intimately fitting dress. She paused awkwardly in the doorway, feeling a touch ridiculous in the get-up, to listen intently, hoping her hostess to make herself known. She glanced down to her ring and to the blue charm at her throat for reassurance.

The blue-greens lifted to receive the presence of her curious hostess, who had begun to study her. Charna was quick to do the same, appraising the blonde's outfit and the body beneath, for while it was true that the Vix was normally in the company of males, she could appreciate beauty in whatever form it came. Besides, the garb was designed to attract attention, was it not' She felt her cheeks grow warm, prompted by Alma's spoken judgement and by the roll of the normally veiled irises over her skinny frame. Sure, Charna was used to being ogled, but she had more modesty over her looks than most would think.

"Trust me, darling, it was a fight to get into this dress, bony frame and all. Perhaps you will have to explain the tricks of such outfits. Something tells me..."

She didn't care to finish. That "something" was currently telling her that she may be in over her head here, what with the apparel deemed appropriate for the night's activities. But she couldn't just go home. No, not yet. She would just adapt. The shadows in her head decided this was the best course of action. After all, they wanted to see what this alternate life was like. The sleek, almost dangerous buckles, heels, and shiny clothes made them stir, anxious to explore. They were equally interested in what Miss Alma was up to now. She just acted as their vessel, smiling sweetly as she drifted like a ghost over to where Alma had situated herself. Once she approached and had observed the woman's actions and words, a head-tilt, similar to a questioning canine's, followed. "Opium" she'd heard before, but "cocaine" was foreign to her. She watched the smoke in a mild state of awe. Childish in manner, which looked all the more foolish considering how she was dressed and just what that black rubber did for her figure, she knelt down at her caretaker's feet.

"What is that?" A gesture with the widened eyes to the hookah. "Is it like a less portable, reusable cigarette?"

Ah, she was showing just how much innocence she had left, and without even realizing it. The descriptions made her eager to know more. And the shadows were overjoyed when they heard a title slip from the blonde's lips...

A new queen.

One of her delicate hands was lifted to take the strange smoking implement offered, whilst her ears remained attentive to her hostess's explanation of the hookah. The phrase 'social lubricant' made her grin, since in her head she was now associating this smoking device with alcohol, which she'd also heard been deemed as such.

As Alma moved into a more comfortable position, flesh coming in contact with flesh in the process, Charna set about trying out this community cigarette, as it were. Her first inhale was timid, more of a test than anything else. It was a different feeling, a deviancy from the smoke she was accustomed to. But it wasn't particularly disagreeable, so she tried inhaling again. This time, she wasn't so timid, and she held it like she'd watched Alma do.

She had a few more steady, slow drags as her hostess went on to warn and reassure. It was reassurance, wasn't it' The pupils started to dilate as she turned to reply. And a laugh' Happy and sweet, it bubbled up without her having a reason for it.

"Darling, even if you tried to seduce me, you'd find me stubborn. But I appreciate the clarification. I don't think you'll need worry about me taking lovers, though. And....thank you. For realizing that my decisions here should be my own."

A smile, sincere and even a tad grateful for the independence granted her, as if only the blonde's words made it real. The shadows were dancing- actually dancing! And when they didn't brood, neither did she. Euphoria was creeping up and she delighted in it, for it was rare that it would strike her at such a time. The appreciative smile was lowered to the mouthpiece, before she drew it in for a kiss. She was silently convincing herself this mix was a godsend. All the while, spinning around her head...

...A queen, a queen. The city at our feet...

Little hand to his mouth, Hansel backed away from the couple in wonder. "Oh, oh, oh, I must have been a good girl to happen to be working the door on this night of nights!" He/she skittered ahead, surprisingly graceful, almost balletic, his short round bulk mincing on tiny feet. He opens another door, and the sound of the club leaks through to surround them; it is a conflict of music, it is as if they hear the heart and organs of a great beast from within it Still with a fingertip on the Vixen's hand, Alma follows, her progress consisting of a necklace strung with poses. At the open door a cavernous room stretches before them, smoke draped and throbbing. Rather than shout any announcement, Hansel merely flick the small light above the door on and off, and the blonde poses within the open door.

Silence sweeps the club, every eye turns to Alma as she preens in the doorway. The room is like a held breath, ready to explode. but she holds up one hand for silence, and leads Charna forward into the light, herself stepping back into the Vixen's shadow. The held breath escapes into a low, collective moan, spiked first with a peppering of applause that suddenly swells to a roar. Behind Charna, Alma purrs.

"They are yours, love. Hansel, find us a table fit for royalty. You know what I will require."

The Vixen had just gotten a hold of the temptress when the applause began, and she almost lost sneaky public persona in the shock of it all. If she'd been feeling more like herself, she would have blushed charmingly and dipped her head. But no, this was a new city, and a new chance to cement herself as a force to be reckoned with. The same curled, half-smile was given to the legions, letting an inky curl come forward to obscure one of the turquoise eyes. The contrast of pale skin and light eyes to the darkness she associated with was all the more apparent tonight. Her body moved itself to hold the most magnificent of poses, and she kept them up, even when looking to Alma in a nonchalant manner, silently agreeing to be led away. The Vixen was awake, more awake than she'd ever been. She felt in control, powerful. Hansel, tittering and waving surprisingly delicate hands to clear a path, soon had lead them to a table that commanded a view of the room. A small hookah smoldered there already, and a bluish bottle of Boodles gin. Charna looked to the crowd, analyzing the beings that dwelled and swam in the pack. Some were very lovely. Others, not incredibly so. But they were all captivating. She thought that perhaps she'd been lied to. She'd heard that Earth was "normal". But perhaps, just perhaps, this was the real world of enchantment The blonde busied herself with the small hookah, charged it and indulged in a long draw, pale eyes smiling at the Vixen through the tinted lenses. This is her world, and she had believed and hoped (if a creature such as she indulged in such a soft emotion as hope) that Charna would be enchanted by it and it by her. A movement over the Vixen's shoulder sharpens Alma's smile.

Approaching is a creature who stands out; even in this company. She is at least 6'2", and an improbable portion of that is leg, well muscled but with just enough flesh above the muscle to beg touch. Her breasts, straining against a dominatrix corset, were not shaped by nature. A small black mask does little to hide her beauty or the fact that, in this face, beauty and cruelty have honed themselves one against the other to a fine edge her hair is white blond, falling to below her shoulders in an artless waterfall. In one hand she holds a leash. At its end is a 40-ish man, Armani business suit, handsome in a meaty sort of way, he follows carefully, eyes down.

The blonde touches Charna with a fingertip before she proceeds with the introductions.

"Charna love, this is my dear friend Magenta. Magenta, Charna has allowed me to introduce her to this company. Magenta is favored by the indecisive, Charna dear," Alma's voice teases, sly, "she has, as they say, her mother's features and her father's fixtures."

Whipped dreams....

Alma's seeming compliment made Charna's mask falter, the apparent shock ready for a comeback. This was hushed; stunned that someone had struck so quickly. It hadn't provoked displeasure, no, but promise" Shadows understood shadows. It seemed logical now. And Alma, cunning creature, beautiful woman, quietly lethal, she had called the Vixen off the stage. The dark things that hid in her brain, beneath similar locks, sat on their haunches and wondered over the woman who saw them, even when they thought they were so crafty. A part of Charna had been won over, in such a simple way. One of her more sincere, if faint, smiles was handed over, before she looked shyly to the table.

"Bring forth your friends. I am ready, my darling. And tomorrow, will you teach me more of the things you know?" From looking around at the crowd earlier, Charna had picked up many more things she didn't understand, but was rather sure she'd like to.

The quick sequence of emotions, like photographic slides dissolving one into the other, is not lost on Alma, who adds another whisper: "Remember that it is all of you that evokes wonder, no part alone is Charna..." And then the hidden eyes are veiled again.

"When you will, ask me what you will, and I will answer as truthfully as I might, love. The sea I swim in is not the common water of this world, and questions are expected..."

A glance over her shoulder, and a snap of gloved fingers, is enough to summon another supplicant to the throne.

Charna felt liberated. She felt vaguely like a whole being. She caught hints of this back home, when around the right people, but something was making it stick. Of course, she didn't understand that not only having the comfort provided by her hostess, but several new and powerful chemicals in her body were helping those emotions along nicely. Nonetheless, she was very appreciative, stretching out a hand to rest on Alma's knee, eyes turned up to look at the new arrival.

The blonde's careful mouth flirted with a smile at the touch of hand on knee, but her attention welcomed the person approaching their table. Where many of those that they had already seen has been either feminine or inconclusive in presentation, this was decidedly masculine. He wore loose cotton sweat pants, though even they did not hide the aggressive swell of crotch. Above he was naked, and such a torso was seldom seen Not only was he muscular, but muscled and to the point of emaciation, as if a nest of snakes twined beneath too-thin skin, as if a fiercely strong body was ever at the risk of shutting down for lack of fuel. The result was threatening and vulnerable at once. A faint acrid aroma, not necessarily unpleasant, emanated from him, as if his flesh were consuming itself as he stood there.

The blonde touched gloved hand to her mouth and lifted an almost laughing face to the apparition.

"Byron, darling, you have come to welcome our debutante" I trust you have offers fitting her beauty?"

His muscles writhe with each breath, coal-black eyes dare the Vixen's face for a moment, but return to Alma, his voice is clipped, military in its precision.

"I have an offering, mistress, only you and the beauty can determine its worth...." Charna's eyes turned almost predatory as she appraised the man who approached. Indeed, the likes of him she'd never seen before, but things about the way his muscles wound around reminded her of bodies she knew. A fading bit of homesickness, or maybe something more, as she sat besides Alma quietly, hand left to sleep on her knee. The confidence had never been too far from the surface, and the dark things were purring soundly. Sure, while much of the Vixen was an act, since she kept it up even when she was sad or remarkably unsocial, there were parts that were really her and her alone. Charna had learned a long time ago that one either masters their sexuality, or they fall victim to it, and she wasn't ready to play the helpless part again. The blue-greens drifted to her hostess, then, seeking guidance.

Alma smiled at Byron, her intercession that of a press secretary interpreting for royalty, in no way undercutting the Vixen's presence.

"Bring them, and allow us to judge...."

Alma's own hand covered the hand upon her knee, and the slightest squeeze cupped the fingers beneath closer around her cool flesh. Straightening, as if at parade rest, Byron clicks his heels and points to the floor beside him. From the crowd behind him a young couple emerges. They are perhaps 18, clearly twins, brother and sister. Clearly, too, they have come from a family of some influence, daring the world of the demimonde together. They are both blonde, lithe, supple, with bodies that have exercised only enough to become more pleasing. Ice blue eyes on both, strong chins, they betray their nervousness by clutching each other's hands as they stand at Byron's command before the Vixen and the blonde

Ah, but the Vixen did not look pleased with this gift. They were so young, so delicate. Magnificent, yes, this could not be denied, but there was too much familiarity. The grip they kept on each other, the vague fear painted on them...It reminded her of another who'd been around their age, bred and maintained to be desirable. A memory or so trickled out, the euphoria not so strong anymore. In fact, a lot of the sensations she'd been feeling earlier were fading. She searched both the girl's face, and then the boy's, wondering if they liked the place they were at. Her eyes were cast to Alma, again. She'd seen the shadows before. Could she see them once more"

Alma's smile is beatific, her hidden eyes on the Vixen first. "Do not mistake them, love, in their world they are master and mistress of the universe, they descend here on no one's orders but seeking to satisfy their own hungers..."

The pale eyes turn to Byron, and her careful mouth attempts a pout. "They are indeed lovely..." Not looking at either of the young beauties, she traces a single gloved fingertip across the girl's breasts, beneath the boy's belt. "And they swell willingly enough...but Byron, dear, they have told you they are virgin, and yet I sense they have as siblings shared a lustful bed!"

And here the boy blushes; the girl raises a hand to her face in horror.

The blonde lifts a leather wrapped finger to her lips, considering.

"I think there is nothing here worthy of even me, let alone my companion. Take them to Magenta, she will sell them off for the evening, and leave them stories to regale their schoolmates in the private university tomorrow." Touching the blue topaz charm at her throat with the free hand, Charna smiled, more at ease with the information being exchanged, though some parts were still making her uncomfortable. She leaned towards the blonde, voice a low purr meant only for her hostess.

"My darling, I know the night is young, but might we retreat' I'm feeling tired. You don't mind me taking you away, do you?"

Alma's eyebrows rise above her glasses. "It is perfect that we do, love. The night left unfinished will attract again, the night drunk to its dregs leaves only regret. The car is waiting, your bed turned, and the door between our rooms as ever closed but unlocked on my side..."

The pale eyes are almost playful; the gloved had releases the hand on her knee. Magenta and Byron are magically there to escort them to the door; the offending twins already off in a world of their own sickly wished dreams.

Charna: She was eager to inhale, ready to receive the effects of the drug. She murmured something along the lines of "now where might I find this at home" I don't think..." before trailing off to reply to her caretaker. "It would not disturb, darling. I've seen more creatures in the nude than I should really admit to. I think perhaps I will change, though. As flattering as this dress is, my figure would be happy for the release." She smiled in a bright, happy way, effects creeping back in. But they were even better this time! She moved to stand, delighting in the way her body was changing; heart racing, head filled.

Alma: Her own laugh soft through a breathy exhale, and her small hand quick and clever upon the web of strap and buckle that clothe her. Soon they are spread around her, a catastrophe of snakes, and her pale skin, lightly freckled on the shoulders, arms, and atop the slope of her breasts, freed to the air. Where this strap or that bit upon bending or stooping there remain pink creases against the pale skin, somehow more erotic than the nakedness itself. Although well proportioned, Alma is a small woman. Though clearly an adult, there is a seeming softness to her pale flesh that appears childlike. The pale eyes that dance behind her tinted lenses have, however, long ago abandoned childish things.

Charna: She giggled, not at the sudden nudity, but just at the situation now presented. For anyone else, this might have been much more awkward. Somehow, though, it was as if she had expected it to come to this. She took another hit from the hookah, before placing the mouthpiece back on its hanger, and easing herself into a standing position. Her head swelled with importance and a great many pleasures, and her smile couldn't grow wide enough to show how pleased she was. Gliding away, pumped full of pride, giddiness, and light, a light she hadn't obtained before, she moved to her room, trying to wriggle from her dress in the process. Once inside, she didn't close the door behind. She just kept wiggling until she finally came loose, and the black rubber gave up its intimate hold on her. Bare back to the room outside, all that could be seen were the long, lean legs that led to the covered bottom. Above was just bare skin, marred by the scars and decorated by a circular tattoo mid-back. She drifted towards the dresser to look for nightclothes, rejoicing in how glorious she felt standing there, free of the binds that once held her.

Alma: A clever little tongue laps at the gin, the taste of it more pleasure than its swallowing. Other than an approving glance at the open door, and to note the marked back, the little blonde does not initrude upon her guest's undressing and dressing. She sips at the pipe again, and locates next to it a vial filled with crystals alone. It would seem that the black tar had run its course for this evening. She stretches, there is little play of muscle visible beneath the smoothe skin, another factor that adds to the illusion of vulnerability in the compact body, and smiles a little cat smile, awaiting her guest's return.

Charna: She had finally gotten herself to resume movement, no longer standing so open to the world. But rather than cover the all too marvelous figure she was so much, much more aware of, she picked the briefest top she could find and decided it was enough. Pale blue fabric covered just less than three inches below her cleavage, flashing the midriff, and only portions of her chest itself, leaving much of her upper arms, back, and the area below her throat visible to whomever wished to look. The rest of her was only masked by the simple, functional, black underwear. Giggles following footsteps, she moved to take up the comforts of a chair, again.

Alma: The blonde almost grinned, a hint of small, even white teeth between the sculpted lips. "More comfortable indeed, dear, and as toothsome as the fruit on the table. Take your stem again, while I shake a bit of this upon the coals. We will ride this night bareback before we give in to sleep!" Stirring herself, each movement inadvertantly(") displaying her small body to its full advantage, she shakes a goodly half gram of the crystals atop the glowing coals.

Charna: Oh, and how greedy she looked, to both the hookah and the hostess. Perhaps not so much lustful as admiring, for here was a woman who held no boundaries. That was something the Vixen could respect. She plucked up a mouthpiece, letting the hose extend for her as she settled cross-legged on the floor, ready to inhale at the command. Her heart was already pumping up a furious storm, but she wanted to maintain it. The blue and green parts of her eyes were just visible around the pupils, which had gotten too large again. But her smile dispelled all that.

Alma: The blonde drew on the mouthpiece as well, the smoke harder in flavor, vaguely chemical, it seemed to run at the brain and dance at the doors of the sinuses. Alma smiles at her guest, looking at her eyes and not at her so recently displayed charms. "This mixture serves two purposes. When we are sated we will sleep, and ride the clouds again tomorrow. Any other life is too dreadful to contemplate

Charna: This woman had earned so much in the affections of the Vixen, and in only one night! The smile formed around the implement, she breathed deep, almost coughing at the new sensations, though she fought the urge. Another pull, for good measure, hoping that would be enough. Well, maybe just another small one. Then she exhaled everything she had in her effectively abused lungs and watched her blonde counterpart, grin sprawling and a touch sloppy.

Alma: Alma slips her glasses low on her nose, and lets her pale blue eyes find the Vixen's eyes. "A pity I promised not to try to seduce you, dearest, but I am a creature of my word." A quick laugh, tintinabulation of silver bells, and she kisses at her Boodles again.

Charna: She giggled again, returning the mouthpiece to its hanger. She took a lean back onto a chair, legs extended before her. Idly, and without realizing much what she was doing, her hand was lifted to fondle the silver chain and pendant still at her throat, which had remained throughout the night. The ring from Quel, that was intended to protect, made contact with the metallic thread, as well. Had she been aware of it, she would have found that delightfully amusing, for reasons all her own. But her eyes remained on Alma, shining brightly as the chemicals danced along through her body, keeping her perfect and pretty and slowly bringing her down to a level of calm and comfort.

Alma: The little blonde met that smile, and ghosted to her feet, as graceful as a sapling rising after a storm, her small hands held to the dark haired beauty. "Dawn approaches, love, and alone or together we should slip between silk to repair in anticipation of the morrow." She lifts her chin, and raises her shoulders slightly. "You can, of course, kiss me if you wish..." and behind the lenses the pale eyes dance.

Charna: And at the offer, the Vix reached for one of Alma's hand, and brought it to her lips, starting the unsteady journey onto her feet. She wasn't used to such hard things in her system, though she certainly wasn't fighting them. She smirked as the hand was released, weight of her body leaning to one leg when she straightened. "Looks like I wished? But now I only wish to rest..." And as absently as should be expected from a dopey little woman such as herself, she turned on her heels to slink off to her awaiting room and those screamingly passionate sheets.

"This stuff will probably kill us, let's do another line. Always meet someone you know on Heartattack and Vine..."

In her own loft apartment, close enough to Alma's suite of rooms to assure rapid response to any summons, Magenta works at a stainless steel countertop. The wall facing her is composed entirely of skim-milk-colored plastic compartments, each with an identical blue handle, each with a plastic label affixed below identifying the particular substance contained in breathtaking abundance therein. Because of the wealth of medicinals (legal and otherwise) always at hand, security at the statuesque beauty's dwelling is easily equal to that surrounding the homes of rulers of several of the worlds richer and more corrupt regimes.

She wears nurse's white as she works, though of course it is tailored to hold close, and unbutton dangerously between, her gravity-defying breasts, and short enough to accentuate the toned and tapered legs that seem to go on forever before reaching, all breathless with the climb, a snug hem. Despite her appearance, she is a model of efficiency as she manipulates the delicate digital scales, the automated pill counters, the grinder, mixer, even the veterinary bolus mold that allows her to create neatly shaped capsules of her own recipe.

It is one of these she works on now. The neat pills, purposely colored a peaceful midnight blue, roll out shaped and firm, to be counted and labeled in child-proof plastic bottles, pharmacological brown, with characteristic white caps. Her large, capable hands, carefully manicured, the nails a deep maroon today, snap another closed and she ticks it off on an inventory: "V&V, 50 count," indicating that the supply of one of her favorites, a morning-after mixture of Valium and mega-vitamins, is ready to join the other exotics that Alma has asked her to pack for the upcoming trip to RhyDin.

She purrs to herself as she thinks of the little blonde, and of the dark-haired debutante that Alma has brought with her on this visit. Magenta has shared the former's bed on many occasions, and never tires of her mistress/lover's inventiveness and enthusiasm. The latter she has hoped to share as well, and some of the bottles yet to be filled should make that delicious objective, for her or for Alma (Alma first if she decides so, of course, always Alma first) a bit easier to achieve.

It's the dance of Shiva, it's the debutant's ball, everyone will be there, who's anyone at all...—Zevon

Every night transcends the last.

The hours of the moon have become an endless swirl of color and light, music and eyes and lovely bodies. And ever the Vixen is at the center of this pretty maelstrom. Always she is showered with admiration, with lust, with envy, and with adoration. These emotions fill the air like perfumes on a June breeze.

And two steps behind her, as invisible as she chooses to be, pretty little Alma conducts this symphony, playing her city, her chosen clubs, her intimate groupings of sycophants like orchestras, like ensembles, like string quartets. So artful is her baton that neither Charna nor any but the most perceptive of the blonde's circle even recognize its waves and tappings, its lifting the volume of atttention to a roar or drawing it down to a hush, as soft at a timid caress.

Alma is wise, her rise to the top of the Vienna demi-monde has made her so. It is a culture as quick with the verbal knife, the offhanded slight, as any. She knows her tools. The drugs are powerful things, and the intimacies which she and Magenta (yes Alma knows, of course she knows) share with the Vixen will insert fishhooks of their own. But it is the love of the crowd, the blind adoration, the ecstatic afffirmation that will become like a necessary food to the Vixen's delicate psyche. Drugs can be left behind for a physical price, and even her sweet attentions and those of the breathtaking shemale can be left behind if one must, if one is willing to suffer the required longing.

But the crowds, the music, these swirling nights of pure and unquestioning love, these shape the one addiction that will pull and pull when all other hooks have long since torn free.