Lilah’s hand rose to her cheek, resting lightly over the red handprint that was already flaming into existence on her skin.  Being slapped was nothing new.  What was new was the way the tattooed man inserted himself so neatly into the transaction-gone-wrong.  He must have assumed the intervention was necessary.<br/><br/>He was, of course, very wrong, but she’d let him continue to play the savior and deliver punishment to Petoskey for his transgression.<br/><br/>Rapid blinks worked tears into her eyes, tears that she would not allow to actually roll down her cheeks, tears that were for the benefit of everyone watching should they decide to look her way. She stepped back once then once again to remove herself from the circle of the one-sided fight, her tear-filled eyes locked onto the tattooed man and the way he used his fists to deliver a message.  It was easy to appreciate the effortless way Rishon dispatched Petoskey.  He was a man at ease with hurting people.  She admired that.<br/><br/>Her fingers traced the heated outline of the handprint before lowering to reach into her purse and extract a cigarette case enameled with a delicate spider web.  A practiced flick of her thumbnail under the clasp opened it so she could remove a cigarette.  Setting it between her lips, Lilah paused to observe the changes that had taken place in the Raven’s Nest since the start of the evening.<br/><br/>One man on the floor, groaning in pain.  One man started to stand, impulsive revenge forming in his eyes.  One man with a gun and authority in his voice.  And one man thoroughly enjoying the chaos.   The other women had wisely chosen to scamper off into the night in search of easier pickings.<br/><br/>Lilah lit the cigarette, making that first drag nice and deep as she watched Rishon drop money on Petoskey’s back.  Her eyes narrowed, the crocodile tears disappeared. She exhaled a slow stream of smoke from between pursed lips, tapped the nonexistent ash to the floor, and stepped toward Rishon.  Her finger brushed across the back of his hand as she reached for the stack of cash.<br/><br/>“It wasn’t any trouble,” she reassured him in her honeyed voice.  “You should get someone to look at your hand though, make sure it’s not broken.”  That finger ran across then pressed gently on the tattooed design inked into his skin.<br/><br/>In that brief one-two second of contact, Lilah gave Rishon a taste of why the groaning man on the floor was willing to spend such an exorbitant amount of money on an hour of her time as she<i>pushed</i>a bit of delicious euphoria into him, a small static shock the only clue that this was not the normal flirtatious touch of a woman looking to make some easy money. She didn’t give him much, not to the level some of her more addicted paying customers insisted on.  With the unsuspecting, she preferred to keep it small - the swooping tickle of going downhill in a speeding car, the first taste of the most delectable morsel of food ever to be placed in their mouths, the anticipation and sweet bliss of the first kiss with a new paramour.  Those were the shallow depths of sensations she strove to replicate.  Lifting her eyes from his hand, she let their eyes meet so she could hopefully see the moment realization dawned that those feelings came<u>from</u>her, not because of her.<br/><br/>Her fingernail trailed along the up-down like of his knuckles as she released his hand.  She took another drag from her cigarette and tapped the ash down onto the prone body of the man who had assaulted her.  One eyebrow twitched upward as she regarded Bill silently.  This twist in the plan for the evening was irksome and, for that, he was going to have to suffer the consequences.<br/><br/>Without saying a word, Lilah bent at the knees and lowered herself down into a very ladylike crouch near his head.  The fit of her dress limited her range of motion but she could hold this position, poised and balanced as she was in her heels, until Bill came to the understanding that he had fucked up.  It actually wouldn’t take very long to convey that at all. The man with the beautiful eyes and the gun was ignored; he clearly wasn’t telling<i>her</i>to stop so she paid him no mind.<br/><br/>“Mmmm, Tiger,” she purred down at Petoskey.  “You should have behaved yourself.  You could have had this,” she scolded as one manicured fingernail drifted across his cheek.  Bill moaned, not in pain but out of absolute pleasure.  His eyes rolled back and fluttered closed.  Lilah smiled as she continued to caress his face.  “Instead, you’re going to get this.”  Nothing changed, not her position, not the lazy way she took another pull from her cigarette, not the way she kept tracing her fingernail across his skin.  At least, nothing changed until Petoskey started his shrill shrieks of agony.  “There we go, baby… you’re all better now.”  She patted his cheek twice roughly before straightening and turning her attention back to Rishon.<br/><br/>“Thank you for holding my money for me, sweetheart, but would you mind giving it to me now?” The hand holding the cigarette extended, palm up, as she waited for him to acquiesce to her simple request.<br/><br/>Bill was still screaming as his friend yanked him upright and hauled him out of the door.