<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/fc/Emmaq6.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Emma Qvigstad<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Pleasure Heights; Money Shots Bar<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Looking/Free Use<br/><strong>Looking For:</strong>Gokkun<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Masako, Archer<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"I mean yeah, everyone wishes they were having more sex, right? It's just so different from one room to the next. Back there people are fucking," she gestured, splaying out her fingers in the old five boroughs<em>all of that. </em>"And in here, it's like, almost a normal bar? Like everyone got nostalgic for the club experience. I mean not totally, cuz the bartenders are full frontal, but it's like even when you can go back and fuck there's this habit of sitting and drinking and being sad for a while nobody can get over. It's a weird, uh,<em>dichotomy." </em>A word like that reminded her that she wore glasses. She touched them.<br/><br/>"Mechanic, that's cool I guess. Yeah. I can see why maybe you'd want to go home if you just work hard and don't get the deep dark experience. It's like a tease, huh."<br/>When the drink came, she didn't touch it at first. Force of habit, leaving her comestibles out on display, so loosely attended and at the mercy of strangers, daring something to happen.<br/>"I get up to my tippy toes in it. It's so good, it's like, do I even work for a living, or do I get paid just to have fun?" There was a smile, tight and broad. She hadn't giggled at his jokes, wasn't that kind of girl, but rather was this kind. "Does that make you like, jealous?" Her quick voice lowered. "Like something you might want to take out on me, grease monkey man?"<br/><br/>A look did not go unnoticed. She held out a delicate arm, wrist upturned to accept perfume, so Archer could run his fingers over the wristband's oath. There was not much to feel; a thin rubber, worn tight enough to lead the wrist like a cuff. "One hundred eighty-seven days," she boasted, letting Archer figure out what that meant. "It drives me crazy, you know? But once my body's trained, it opens, like, a whole different world of pleasure. It's hot and nasty and uncomfortable and desperate and that's what I like." Faded bruises under the band, from when her body was pinned. Not the red burn of rope or the thin lines of handcuffs, but irregular, given by hand. She was pleased he noticed them. "What about you?"