KEEP THE PRESSURE UP *

[hannah2]

i can show you colors that never existed,

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SHOW YOU I'VE GOT SUBSTANCE I FEEL MY TEMPERATURE RISING.[/center]

This wasn't somewhere you would expect to find Alana Sherlock. This was a people-packed, liquor-engorged, narcissistic sex house where people got drunk and basically went at it on the dance floor. She really wouldn't call what they were doing dancing, though. It was like vertical sex with clothes, which was sort of a mystery to innocent little Alana. Although, there was definitely something to be said about her questionable innocence. She put out a naive vibe, but she knew exactly what she was doing every time she brushed against a male in such a way to make him notice her. She was an expert flirt, but did so very subtly. This way, she could not only express attraction, but play with a man's mind. That, in and of itself, was a turn on for the blond. She loved control, especially when those she controlled didn't even realize it. She loved watching the expression on their faces when they tried to discern whether she was flirting, or if she was being a cute, naive little girl. The issue of her naivete was controversial, considering she was still a virgin at the ripe age of twenty-five, and not for lack of trying by the men in her life. She wanted to be that sexy seductress she watched on the silver screen all the time, but when it came down to it, she couldn't do it.

She couldn't hear them, but she felt the clicking of her heels on the floor in her toes. It was almost reassuring - it reminded her she wasn't floating, but instead walking like every other human. At times, just like all females, she needed to be reminded she was nothing special. She was just another person thrust onto this earth with the sole purpose of procreation, which she had no plans of doing. At this point, finding a guy was difficult enough she didn't even need to think about trying to keep one around long enough to marry and have children with. It just wasn't in the plans, and really, this wasn't her idea either. Her father had actually sent her out into the city, ordering her to have some fun somehow, or bring home a guy. He was tired of watching his daughter work her head off with no reward. Which was saying something, considering he was also he manager. She'd just finished filming her minor role in The Marriage Plan, and even though it was a small role, it was still going to be a major production.

So there she was, crossing the floor to the bar, her long legs eating up ground as her hips and fleshy ass swayed with her strides. She ordered a shot of tequila and it was gone rather quickly; just a little liquid courage to feed the fire of her burning desire this evening. She then ventured out onto the dance floor. She might have been innocent, but she definitely wasn't timid. She could pretend to be so, but in the end it was only an act. The bass from the speakers thudded loudly in her ear, the song seeming almost distorted by the lack of treble present within it. She didn't mind - she wasn't listening to the music. She was now just swaying to it's peppy beat, the slurs of words making carousels in her mind. Before long, she found a pair of arms snaking around her waist from the back, something she hadn't been expecting. She wasn't shocked though, this was a club after all. She didn't look to see who it was, instead she just leaned back into whoever it was. Her hands dropped to her sides, brushing against the thighs behind her in the movement of her dancing. She bent at the knees, bringing her fleshy backside against him, but as soon as she returned to full height she backed off, rocking her hips against him only lightly. Let the games begin.

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TAGGED --- open, yo.
WORDS --- 656
OUTFIT --- here.
CREDS --- lyrics © artist, everything else © me
NOTES --- hai. someone take this plz. it'll get better. pinky swear.