<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/25/Jhknitcap.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Vicki Rugen<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Izzy's Door, Entrance<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>White blouse, black cashmere drape, black pleated skirt, hose, stylized/stylish combat boots<br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>: None<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Everybody<br/><hr/><br/>Vick pulled her Volkswagen Golf into Izzy's palatial digs and piloted around to where the other cars were, checking them out, trying to guess who would be attached to which ones. Cars as clothes sort of thing. Yanking her parking brake, she went around to check everything in her trunk. A good assortment of everything from diet pills to Viagra. Hopefully the dudes at this thing wouldn't need<em>those</em>. In her purse, she made sure to have uppers, downers, pot, molly, some hash. Nothing else. Izzy was a freak about this shit and she didn't want to jack into her bad vibes. Today was about sexy exteriors, anyway, not vibing interiors... although vibing interiors often helped.<br/><br/>Walked up in time to see a clot of folks clogging the entrance, not anybody she seemed to know. "Holy shit, everybody's a ten," she said, coming in. "Well, a nine, anyway. Iz knows a shitload of fine-ass people. I'm Victoria."<br/><br/>She nodded at the guys, who were built like Chippendale's, the good kind. Stripper cops. Beverly Hills models. Immediately she imagined herself running her tongue over their abs, or them running their tongues over each others' -- even better. The chick, however, was<em>aces</em>. She was hot as fuck.<br/><br/>"Any hangovers from yesterday? St. Paddy's Day and all. Me, I was meditating in my meditation chamber all 24 to get ready for today. All of y'all are going down. I'm a<em>slayer</em>."