<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong>”... TUESDAY KNIGHT!”</strong></span></div><br/><div class="floatright">(https://scontent-dfw5-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/fr/cp0/e15/q65/35361796_5254466324615447_133453335490461696_o.jpg?_nc_cat=107&amp;efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&amp;_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-2.xx&amp;oh=ed0b71f4ee12f2d595fe17967b4800e6&amp;oe=5CF6CDFB)</div><br/>As Wallen’s introduction was met with muted applause, a somber obo played, trailing off slowly with a jazzy ornamentation at the back end. It built an atmosphere like an upper middle class bordello, where the talent is top notch but maybe a little hungrier and sleazier than the posh red light district. Lazily, the spotlight opens on Brigitte, dressed in her every day clothes and stretched out upon a chaise lounge. With the weary sigh of a madam, she began to sing a slow lament, “There was a time, I don't know when / I didn't have much time for men... / But this is now and that was then, I'm learning...”<br/><br/>She uncrossed her legs slower than was proper for a lady, before sliding off the cushion and onto her feet. Brigitte stretched luxuriously as if she had just woken from a rough evening. She removed her faux fox stole, her gloves suggestively ticking her neck and tracing her fingers down the valley between her breasts, unsnapping buttons with practiced ease as she went, “A girl alone, all on her own, / Must try to have a heart of stone / So I try not to make it known my yearning...”<br/><br/>She strode across the stage, her bare, creamy legs stark against the dark violet fabric of her dress with each step she took. Even with her blouse entirely undone, she retained some small degree of modesty. Though the neckline dipped deep enough to expose her navel, somehow she managed to keep the fabric tantalizingly close the radius of her nipples, “I try to show I have no need! I really do, I don't succeeeeeeeeeeed!”<br/><br/>A thick chorded ribbon slowly descended from above stage, the backdrop slowly lighting up with a soft glow to silhouette her as she stepped out of her heels, “Soooooooo leeeeets briiiiing on the men / And let the fun begin! A little touch of sin! / Why wait another minute? / Step this way it's time for us to play! / They say we may not pass this way again! / So let's waste no more time! Bring on the men!”<br/><br/>She wrapped her leg around the chord, leaning into it like a lover. With the ribbon around her thigh and hips, she trusted her weight to it, arching her back and letting her feet leave the stage. As the front lights dimmed, and she began to swing, she at last removed her blouse.<br/><br/>Her dress soon followed and then she was a voluptuous shadow swinging nimbly through the air, black curves on soft white. She moved herself slowly up the length of the chord, wrapping it around her waist, “They break your heeaaaart! They steal your soul! Tear you apaaaart! And yet they somehow make you whooole! So what’s their game?”<br/><br/>Eight feet in the air, her swinging slowed and a tight spotlight lit up in close frame of her face as she mewled almost tearfully, “I suppose... a rose by any other name... The perfume and the PRICK’s the saaaaame!” Brigitte let go of the ribbon, unwrapping herself and spinning like a top as she dropped.<br/><br/>A musical interlude played as her feet hit the floor gracefully. She let herself lean over precariously, her hand still wrapped around the ribbon the only thing from keeping her from pitching into the orchestra pit. Yanking herself to and fro as if she were the reluctant tango partner of the chord, she kicked her leg and threw up her free hand in surrender a moment before the music and the lights went out.<br/><br/>There was a long silence, only broken by the murmur of the crowd. It went on for a heartbeat longer than it should before the tight spotlight opened on the other side of the stage, shining on Brigitte leaning seductively against a column. She over enunciated each word, as if she were reluctant to let them go as she sang, “I like to have a man for breakfast each day. / I'm very social and I like it that way. / By late mid-morning I need something to munch. / So I ask over... two men for lunch!”<br/><br/>Wearing little more than a lace veil and a pair of gloves, she hugged herself, the choreography of each step measured to almost expose herself... only for her to dip a bare shoulder, the spotlight finding only her back as she removed her hands from her breasts, “And men are mad about my afternoon tea! They're quite informal I just do it to please! / Those triple sandwiches are my favorite ones! But I'm also very, partial to buns!”<br/><br/>She brought one foot up to the chaise lounge, and she ran her fingers along her thigh while the spotlight gleamed across her supple ass. Despite the pose she struck, she peered over her shoulder with a coy innocence, “My healthy appetite gets strongest at night! My at home dinners are my men friends delight! /When I invite the fellas over to dine... They all cum early... I’m in bed by nine!”<br/><br/>Beckoned by illusion the chorus repeated itself, voiced by a gaggle of harlots as the backlights went up and Brigitte was again a shapely shadow across the stage, strutting and gyrating as the music worked itself into a frenzy, “Step through this way! It’s time for us to play! / They say we may not pass this way again! / So let's waste no more time! Bring on the meeeeeeeen!”<br/><br/>“Big men! Small men! Short men! Tall men! I suppose that means... almost all men! I'm game to play as long as they are men! Men! Men!” Brigitte’s almost desperate dance ended as she struck a pose, arms raised as the spotlight came back on at full bright. Covered in a sheen of sweat, she stood nude and breathless, her gloved hands outstretched to the crowd as she struggled to catch her breath, “... although, I would never be so heartless as to kick a wanting lady out of my boudoir either!”<br/><br/>She was careful to keep her brief gaze up to the elven trio in the private box short and furtive before taking her bow, “No one seems to give me a day off, and so it will always be a Tuesday Knight! Thank you!”<br/><br/>An acquaintance of hers had once advised her to aim Cupid’s Arrow high... that way if you miss, you can hit a mattress in the middle class. For Brigitte’s purposes, finding a friendly face to sit on be it Silvershield or one of her attendants would help her immensely. Fearful she might over stay her welcome, she took only the one bow and quickly gathered her clothes in the darkness once the spotlight went out.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Performance (CHA) 26 Acrobatic (DEX) 24</div><div class="spoiler_body">At 2019-02-04 08:48:41, Tuesday Knight (uid: 870) rolls: 1d20k1a6 Result: 26 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=130303)<br/>At 2019-02-04 08:49:11, Tuesday Knight (uid: 870) rolls: 1d20k1a5 Result: 24 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=130304)</div></div>