<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><a class="username" data-user-id="427" data-username="@The Distresser" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/427/">@The Distresser</a>  and <a class="username" data-user-id="1065" data-username="@SilverVixen" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/1065/">@SilverVixen</a></span><br/>Allow me to introduce Lauren Patechowski or Lauren de Salle as she likes to go by,<i>(because really... who would go and spend money in a pricey bar to listen to some broad with the moniker Patechowski)</i>, is a woman in her mid thirties but prefers to ignore the passing years and will tell you she isn't a day past ‘just turned thirty’. Imagine a human Jessica Rabbit and you got Lauren, red hair, tits, ass, and a voice that goes down like a smooth and expensive as fuck bourbon. Lauren lacks Jessica’s height and only clocks in at barely five feet and three inches although her penchant for heels boosts that by several more.<br/><br/>She’s a featured singer at Moxey’s just off the green mile in Chicago where she performs four days a week to a room full of drunk and often randy white men who try to snag a squeeze of her ass or her completely bewitching boobs. It was during one of those evenings that she overheard three men - who she later found out to be mob men - discuss a planned hit on one William Drury. Now poor Willie was found shot to death in his garage a few days later and although no one was charged with the murder, the fact that this dishonored cop was iced in his own home certainly attracted some attention. (PS, he was killed 9/25/1950). Lauren’s boss was ‘asked'  by these fine men to invite her for a chat and discuss her future career the same day but Lauren...well, she had a well developed bullshit meter honed by years of growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, and promised she’d be in at five PM sharp. She was after all very keen on that opportunity. Last time they ‘talked’ it was mostly in terms of him grunting while gripping her hips as she sat on his lap riding his crooked dick with its bulbous, purple head. Her boss was a fat piece of shit and could only fuck sitting in a chair with the woman bouncing up and down on him. That was the price she paid for working at that bar, but then her momma done worse.<br/><br/>Lauren wasted no time, packed her bags and climbed into a bus to take her to Davenport, Iowa where she disembarked and purchased a Ford Coupe which she took on I-80. She was last seen at the Meier Truck Stop, later dubbed the Worlds Largest Truck Stop. Ms Patechowski was heading West, and didn’t look back. Her apartment was tossed the same night...<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***​</div><br/>Lauren reclined under the dappled shade of the Palm by the pool. She was wearing a rather daring bikini and the manager of the motel had waffled between looks of disapproval and greedy stares. After her successful escape from Chicago the singer had decided on a few days of well deserved rest and relaxation as she congratulated herself on her daring and cunning.<br/><br/>The voluptuous woman sipped from her Tom Collins reflecting how lovely a place this was. Granted she had splurged a bit, but it was only meant to be for a week. Her fair skin didn't do too well with the intense sun  and she would have to be careful not to burn, nobody wanted a peeling red head. She picked up a bottle of the brand new product called Coppertone and applied some of the sunscreen, sliding the substance over her chest, arms and legs. She wore a wide brimmed hat as she hated wearing sunscreen on her face. As she applied the lotion she felt watched.<i>Just that slimy manager who is probably diddling himself right now</i>, she thought.<br/><br/>Phoenix Arizona was a delightful mash up of people from all over and just as good a place as any to make her new home, the suburban neighborhoods were starting to be a big hit by now and she had noticed a cute little bungalow which would be just perfect for her. Staying permanently in a motel was obviously not an option and Lauren had to make a few decisions. Singing was unwise as she would likely attract too much attention, a girl had to make money though and she wasn’t the marrying kind so finding some rich Big Daddy wasn’t in the cards. She could give music lessons, plenty of little shits whose mommies thought they were the bees knees, not to mention mommies who wanted to croon at cocktail parties and look like sexy cats...<br/><br/>A shadow fell over her from behind and she removed her cat’s eye sunglasses.<br/><br/>“Move it buster, you’re eclipsing my stage light.”