Isla wasn't surprised when Megan didnt' even raise her gaze.  The messenger was slightly relieved as she offers a quiet , "Thankyou" and heads out the door, down the elevator and back on her bike. She  was officially -done- with her shift for the week, and the letter was delivered.  It could be a hell of an interesting weekend if the lawyer's curiosity was piqued.   She rushes home, hops in the shower , then sets to make her multicolored hair -perfect-.  She  pads barefoot across her small two bedroom apartment.  She doesn't head to her room to get dressed, but to her second room.  The play room..<br/><br/>She enters the darkened play room, an over sized bed with various shackles, chains and other adornments sits in the corner. Next to it , a suspension swing, next to that , a wire suspension rack,and next to that is a closet. She heads towards the closet, moving past the book shelves holding various sex toys, restraints and silken rope, she opens the closet and bites her bottom lip anxiously.....what to wear? Was a corset too..formal? Would a corset -scare- the lawyer away? Should she go a more simple route? Nothing said she had to break out the toys the first time! It's at that point she realizes how presumptuous she's being.<br/><br/>This wasn't some client. This was a professional woman..she was setting out to get to know..and hopefully woo.  She opts to keep it simple. A matte finished black leather halter top, prominently showing off the plethora of tattoos that adorn her shoulders, back of her neck and arms, combined with a single dark brown pair of leather pants. She tops it off with a simple pair of doc martians, and gives her self a once over in the mirror.  Her short cropped pink, green and blonde hair is miss matched and looks rather haphazard, but it's styled as such intentionally.  She lines her eyes with smokey black eye -liner, and a simple muted crimson lipstain, and decides that's 'good enough'.  Hopefully , she'd catch the lawyers attention...but not -too- much of the womans attention.<br/><br/>She anoints her self with a simple perfumed oil, a rich blend of opium, synthetic leather, and smoke, and heads out the door. She catches the L train to Chelsea and tries to keep her knee from bouncing nervously on the long ride. While she rides the train she can't help but think how batshit crazy this plan was.  Sure she harbored no real....sentiment of starting anything with the lawyer, but she recognized another lonely soul when she saw one.  Someone who dealt with people all the time..but was still lonely.  It was a gamble..that was sure, but she was a firm believer that nothing worth attempting in life was a sure thing.   It wasn't like she was trying to U-haul with the lawyer or something...she just..thought she was ..rather fetching..and she couldn't be -too- stupid if she was as successful as she was....and if she showed up to the club? Well it showed she was a bit of a free spirit.  If she -stayed- at the club once she saw what was going on........well..She was a bit of a perv..and -that- gave Isla room to work.<br/><br/>She arrives at "Lucky Changs" at half past nine.  Upstairs Lucky's was nothing more then a simple drag bar....downstairs however.....downstairs was different.  Tonight at Luckys, the kinksters from the basement had their once a month outing they liked to call 'Bottom Dwellers revenge'.  On a night featuring the "bottom dwellers revenge' one could see just about anything. Suspension play, puppy play, Gorean households displaying and pimping out their slaves to other heads of households...pretty much -anything- went.  But 9:30 was still early...when Isla walks into the bar,she hears no comforting sound of yelps ,'yes master' , or the crack of a whip - she misses the comforting sounds but she figures maybe it's for the best that things weren't in full swing yet, as that might scare the girl off. She looks around the bar turned into a night cllub for the evening spotting a few familiar faces she makes her way to the bar- frowning as she thinks her master plan may have fallen flat.<br/><br/>She hops up on a bar stool, her tall , lithe body slithering between the patrons, and she leans over the counter. A young man, maybe a few years older then Isla is tending bar. He's handsome enough, and nods a greeting to Isla. "Whats' up you twisted bitch?!" He asks.<br/><br/>Isla grins, "Tommy! Did you reserve my room for me you stupid bastard?!"<br/><br/>Tommy grins, "Yah..you bringin a client to a private party 'La? Or you payin ta' play?"  Tommy was one of the only friends Isla made since moving to New York, the young man was looking to find a submissive for a night..and Isla was drunk enough to comply. The girls uppity spirit was abit too much however, only further cementing that maybe Isla was a better dominant these days.. But the two remained friends regardless.<br/><br/>"Not exactly..." she shakes her head, pointing at a bottle of Jamison and holding up two fingers, "Might be here on my own for the night... got someone who -might be meeting me..but she has no idea what she's getting her self into...or who I am for that matter..."<br/><br/>Tommy furrows his brow, "Thats fuckin' creepy La' ...Even for you."  He hands her a double shot of Jamison and crosses his arms, "Care to explain?"<br/><br/>"Remember that lawyer.....an..the ..whole...letter..thing ..you suggested last week?"  She downs the shot<br/><br/>"YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING DID THAT?!" He yelps leaning over the bar, "You know I was fuckin' with you when I suggested that right?"<br/><br/><br/>"Yeah..well..what the fuck harm could it do to get ta' know her? Trust me Tommy..once you see her ...She...That girl..if she ain't been someones pet , she's fuckin ' ...she's fuckin born fr' it Tommy...You'll see. "Isla looks over her shoulder towards the entrance , blushing and clearing her throat, "Oh shit..."  she notices the unmistakable visage of the Lawyer as she enters the room and starts to look around.<br/><br/>Isla's voice goes quiet, as she leans over the table..for a very dominant woman in the proper context..she was sort of bumbling when it came to pretty girls she liked.."Thats her..She..FUCK she's gonna leave..C'mon Tommy! Do somethin!"<br/><br/>Tommy looks at his friend, unsure what the fuck she was thinking....Isla was a good kid. Lonely kid..but a good person. She was part of her Gorean household for so damn long out west..that it was hard for her to understand that maybe normal people didn't size others up with a measure of how submissive/dominant they must be in the sack...but ..such was Isla. "You fucking owe me.." he hands her the bottle and hops over the bar.<br/><br/>He heads to the Lawyer and smiles. Tommy is textbook New York City black irish, handsome and strong , and with a typical hipster beard. "HI!" he chirps playfully waving at the new comer. "You lost stranger?" He tries to buy a few minutes for his friend to gain her 'composure'.  He knew Isla wanted to make a 'good' impression...and by good she meant unflappable and endlessly smooth..the bumbling girl might need a minute to reach proper altitude ...or a few drinks.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>