Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: art3mis on 11-12-2013, 17:51:35</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>art3mis</strong> on <strong>11-12-2013, 17:51:35</strong>
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				<div class="floatright"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i.imgur.com/GxNFnbi.jpg)</div></div></div> As a child, Nick Warner had really thought that he was going to grow up to become president. He was raised by a single mother who encouraged him to dream big and to set his sights on the stars. He was brimming with confidence and hope for the future...but things started to go wrong once he got to high school.<br><br>All the other boys started getting taller and developing muscles, and Nick...just didn't, really. He stayed short, slender, and almost feminine-looking throughout the next four years, and found himself subjected to bullying and frequent embarrassments in gym class. He reached 5' 7" in his senior year, but by then all the damage had been done. His confidence had been shattered, and he went away to college unsure of himself and what he wanted to be. <br><br>Currently Nick was taking a break from college after two years of school. He'd run out of money for his education, and it didn't seem right to borrow any more if he wasn't sure WHY he was going to school. He was living away from home now, in the big city, and was just barely managing to pay the rent on his cramped apartment with the money he made as a waiter.<br><br>Or, at least, that's how things HAD been working. Because this very evening, Nick had been fired. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't his fault - they should have known better than to ask him to carry that heavy piece of equipment through the kitchen! Couldn't they see how puny his arms were? - but it had happened, regardless. <br><br>Now, he wasn't sure WHAT he was going to do. His money would dry up really quickly if he wasn't able to find another job - and that wouldn't be easy, with his lack of skills or good references. He was trying his best to think of some kind of plan and to not give in to depression or despair. The weather wasn't making it easy to avoid feeling gloomy, though. It had started to rain a cold, wet drizzle, and Nick didn't have an umbrella with him. <br><br>On a normal day he might have used his tip money to take a cab home - he couldn't afford a car, of course - but with his sudden firing, that wasn't an option. He walked down the mostly-deserted street in a daze, staring down at the wet sidewalk and wondering what on earth he was going to do with his life now. The rain had already soaked his dark hair, which hung in curly rings around his forehead and ears. His black dress shirt and pants clung to his slender, delicate frame. His dark eyes looked troubled, and his full lips were just beginning to shade towards blue. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>13-12-2013, 00:47:30</strong>
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				<div class="floatright"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Cassandra Gray</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i.imgur.com/LCGtWab.jpg)</div></div><em>Height: 5'11"<br>Weight: 152 lbs<br>Body type: Healthy, athletic<br>Bra size: 36C</em></div>Cassandra Gray walked through the hidden street, paying no mind to the variously awed and curious stares. All humans who walked this magical street fit into one of three categories: a slave, purchased through the market and destined for a life of eternal servitude; a freeman, downtrodden and trapped in the insular, xenophobic community; or a shape shifter, magical and given the utmost respect from every level of society. The first were property. The second were only a step above that. But the third were among the elite, their skills always in demand and their position always revered. Cassandra was one of these last, and even within this relatively large community, she was well-known, a consequence of the rarity of her talent, the fragmented nature of the furry nation, and her prodigious skill as a slaver. How many disappearances in the human world were her doing? Several hundred? A thousand? More? Thanks to her, the community was experiencing something of a population boom, an event almost unheard-of ever since furries had disappeared off the face of the human world. Her work was extraordinarily prolific; she'd had commissions from every sector of the city, from almost every city in the nation, and even from overseas, from those rich enough to reach out so far to her. And the demand was deserved. She produced slaves of legendary quality in relatively short time, averaging a bit less than one month but sometimes only needing a week. And her wealth, of course, reflected that. She was one of the richest furries in the world, and the richest in her city. In her first year, she'd made enough to be able to retire comfortably if she'd wanted to. She hadn't, of course. In her youth, she'd been driven by a sense of duty to her fellow furries, a disdain for humanity, and a need for action and excitement. She'd prided herself on her work, believing herself important and talented.<br><br>And she had been, of course. It would be stupid to argue against it. But looking back now, one month after retiring from half a century's worth of work, it all seemed so foolish. Why had she felt she owed anything to her fellow furries, who only respected her for her career? For all their talk of a need to rally together, they were as divisive as any human society. Nobody had paid her any notice when she'd found her way to the community one day, haggard, orphaned, and hungry. They'd treated her like humans treated beggars, because that's what she had been until she had discovered her talent could get her money. <em>Then</em> heads had turned in her direction. <em>Then</em> they had talked to her about kinship, camaraderie, and a duty to her race. And she'd been all too willing to go along with it, sometimes even working for free, enjoying what she had without ever thinking about what she was doing and why. But she could only rip apart so many families and enslave so many humans -inferior beings or not- before she started getting weary, and one day, she'd simply stopped accepting contracts. She'd packed her few personal things, given her furnished apartment to a homeless family (also paying for their expenses), and moved into a penthouse apartment in the human city. She'd set aside a sum large enough to last her two lifetimes -a considerable sum, considering the long life her magic granted her- and given the rest to charities, both furry and human. In a sense, she was starting her life over, though in retrospect she hardly felt that she'd really been living in the first place.<br><br>Cassandra walked purposefully through the well-maintained cobbled street. Furries didn't use vehicles except for transporting large cargo, something that they prided themselves on. The street, however, was large enough to accommodate six lanes of traffic, which gave everyone plenty of space to walk and set up booths. Trees and other plants lined the street, which itself led to a verdant park. She'd often visited it during her heyday but almost never for pleasure. She had only been truly able to appreciate its magnificence once she'd retired and actually took time to appreciate what was there. It was truly glorious, and it was little wonder that it was the center of life in the furry community. It also harbored an exit to a tunnel that led outside the city, for those intent on traveling. The tunnel had grown from a small, dark hole into a large, well-lit corridor, with inscriptions and etchings carved all along its length. <br><br>She wasn't here to admire art or nature, however. In fact, she'd rather be anywhere but the furry part of the city, its residents -and their transformed breeding slaves that she sometimes recognized- too great a reminder of a life she had left not all that long ago. Rather, she was here on business, and though she was loathe to attend to it, she knew that the sooner she dealt with it the sooner she could put it all behind her. She walked up to a tall, sturdy door set into a stone apartment building, and knocked three times, hard and clear. She didn't deign to knock again when it failed to open; she was a force to be respected, and she would <em>not</em> repeat herself.<br><br>At length, the door opened, and the expression of the tall humanoid brown bear who appeared in the doorway quickly went from annoyance to surprise and then to poorly-hidden nervousness.<br><br>"Cassandra! I -I didn't expect to see you here so soon! I... I thought you'd left!" Cassandra didn't bother to grace him with her stare, instead coolly pushing past him and ignoring his protests. <br><br>"That's Miss Gray to you," she replied, quickly establishing just how friendly she felt to him, "and you took something from me." He licked his lips, which no doubt were starting to feel dry.<br><br>"I don't know what you're talking ab-" <br><br>Before he could finish, she strode up to him and backhanded him hard across the face. He was a bear and she was in her human form, but the blow still sent him staggering. Just as he looked up at her, her foot lashed out, slamming hard into the same side of his face, and he fell to the floor with a crash. She strode over to him and then stood with one foot on his hand and the other pressing on his neck.<br><br>"Where is it?" She asked, deceptively calm.<br><br>She knew he couldn't answer, but she still let him wheeze and look up at her with wide eyes. His free hand itched to pull at her boot, but he was obviously afraid of her wrath if he acted against her. She was half draconian, after all (dragons being the only furries who could interbreed), and magical -not to mention terrifyingly influential. She let up just enough so that he could squeal out an answer.<br><br>"I sold it! I swear I don't know who it was!" His voice pinched from the lack of air, and he gasped for breath. "He offered everything up front!"<br><br>"How much were you paid?" She ground her boot against his fingers, feeling something crack.<br><br>"Two million!" He gasped.<br><br>"What species?"<br><br>"Fox!" His tongue was hanging out, his mouth wide open. <br><br>"And how did he know I had it?" Another finger snapped, and he whimpered pitifully, eyes wet. "Strange, isn't it?" She continued calmly. "My <em>best friend</em>" -another finger, another whimper- "asks for a slave for free, but I tell him I've retired. He insists, since he can't afford to pay someone else but he <em>so</em> lonely, but I decline." She put some more pressure on his neck, lest he get too comfortable. "Next thing I know, I come to pack the last of my things, and I find a forgery, laying in a safe that only two people know how to access."<br><br>She leaned forward, not caring about his half-choked gurgles. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? It's magical. You might not know that, but I do. And it could only be used by someone with magic. So whoever you sold it to is either going to sell it to someone magical, or, more likely, you traded it to one of the other shape shifters in this city, probably in exchange for a slave. And somehow they knew about it in the first place." She jostled him. "So which is it, Simon?"<br><br>His mouth tried to form words, so she let up the pressure just enough once again. "He said -he said he'd get me a slave," he wheezed out. His desperate eyes searched her indifferent ones. "Cassandra, please-"<br><br>"That's Miss Gray," she cut him off, pressing again. He choked, and tried again.<br><br>"Cassandra-"<br><br>"Miss. Gray." She emphasized each word by grinding harder. His eyes looked ready to pop out. She eased up again.<br><br>"Miss Gray," he whimpered, "please, I swear -I'm telling the truth! He changed into a fox in front of me! He was a cat, and he turned into a fox! He -he offered me two million and a slave if I got it for him, and he gave me the fake so I could replace it. I don't know how he knew about!" She listened in silence, letting him babble now that she'd broken him. "I swear, I didn't think it meant that much to you! I just thought it was a trophy or something! Please!" His eyes pleaded with her, looking for any sign of compassion or mercy. Instead, she sighed in disappointment.<br><br>"Simon, you fucking idiot." She stepped off of his neck, and he looked up at her, hopeful and about to gush about her mercy. Her foot reared back and kicked him hard in the face. He slumped down, unconscious. <br><br>So much for that. Cassandra walked out, not bothering to close the door. She believed him when he said he didn't know how word got out. He didn't seem to know what it had been for, so it was unlikely he would spread word about it. That some shape shifter now had her prized, <em>powerful</em>, possession, however... She resisted the temptation to go on a fruitless search. There were only a handful of shape shifters in the city, and they hadn't been in much contact. It would be difficult to find which one had done it, if he was even from this city. Foxes and cats were among the most common transformations, after all, and every shape shifter knew those. Besides, she had just restarted her life. Powerful object or no, she was not about to forgo her newfound piece to go chasing after a relic of her past.<br><br>Cassandra walked along the street, which was slowly emptying as people hurried home in anticipation of the oncoming rain clouds. She made her way to one of the few exits that led to the human part of the city, located just outside a pub. A guard was posted there, though it was largely unnecessary; only furries would be able to see the door from the other side. To a human, the entrance would look like a doorway sealed with bricks, with signs marking it as condemned and filled with concrete. Before she headed out, she grabbed her umbrella, which she had left by the entrance when she'd arrived earlier. Nodding to the guard, who recognized her and opened the door, she stepped through.<br><br>Just as she stepped to the other side and the door closed behind her, a cold drizzle started up. The part of town this exit led to was hardly colorful, but the gray buildings darkened still as the pregnant clouds swiftly covered the sky. Cassandra raised her umbrella and opened it, and then she headed out, walking towards a nice cafe she had discovered. The intensifying rain pattered harmlessly on her sturdy umbrella, and so she paid it no mind. <br><br>As she walked further and further from the secret entrance, and closer to downtown, the city brightened. Shops and their signs added their illumination to the glow cast by the street lamps, which had changed from simple bulbs on curved poles to fancier designs. The few people on the road hurried under their umbrellas, heading to cars or stores or elsewhere. She passed underneath an overhang, and glimpsed the movement of people at ease inside a well-lit restaurant, up above her. Her destination was not far, and she slowed down as she made her approach. The cafe was close to downtown, not in it, but it was still a busy place. A small university was close by, as were several other businesses, a church, and a public library. She looked through the tinted wall-sized windows, straining to see at her distance. It wasn't their busiest time of day, and the rain had dissuaded others who would have come. It was occupied, but only just enough to create a good atmosphere. At the moment, that was all that she wanted.<br><br>Just as she was about to cross her street, something caught her eye. She looked, the dull roar of the rain and its thudding on her umbrella absorbing all the sound around her. No cars disturbed the silencing thunder. A slender young man walked despondently through the driving rain, feet sloshing through the shallow puddle that covered all of the sidewalk. He stared at the ground, his wet hair hanging in front of him. He was dressed professionally, but was in no hurry, either to work or to go home. Something had happened, then, she presumed. Perhaps she was just seeing things, but he looked lonely. She looked back at the cafe, with its promise of warmth, and then looked back at the young man. Unbidden, thoughts of her fantastic but <em>empty</em> apartment came to mind. In all her years in the business, she'd never had the time nor desire for a personal relationship. But now? When she was putting her old life behind her, and choosing to live on her terms? <br><br>It would cause a scandal in furry society, and although she wasn't the kind of person that thrived on controversy, she also didn't care for others' opinions on her personal life. She began walking towards the slight man, her step determined. She easily caught up to him, and stopped directly in front of him. Her umbrella now covered his figure, shielding him from the cold, hard rain.<br><br>"You're going to be sick if you keep going like this, you know," she said. "There's a nice cafe over there," she gestured behind her. "Come join me."<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>art3mis</strong> on <strong>13-12-2013, 01:19:32</strong>
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				The sound of the pouring rain masked all the other sounds of the city street as Nick walked along, troubled by his thoughts. Every option that presented itself to his mind seemed awful. Trying to find a new job with his only possible reference now ruined was going to be a grueling and soul-breaking task, he knew. Unemployment benefits were temporary and wouldn't pay for his current apartment, modest though it was. His mother was back home, not a rich woman herself, and he couldn't handle the thought of returning to her a failure, after all the big dreams she had had for him. He had to find someway to make things work...as hopeless as that felt, right now. <br><br>He considered his own assets, struggling to put as positive of a spin as possible on everything. He was attractive, he supposed - though too short and slight of build to really be thought of as "handsome." He hadn't had much success with women in his life, and his last relationship had been almost a year ago...but he had been a loyal and attentive boyfriend, and the relationships he had had had never ended badly. He got along well with people, most of the time, though his lack of confidence could make it hard to make new friends, and he hardly had any at all in this city.<br><br>He was naturally quick-witted and intelligent, despite his lack of schooling. He had been an avid reader and a scholar as a youth, and still liked learning in any way he could. He had a few hidden talents he had cultivated during his lonely years. He was a competent dancer and he had talented hands, good for painting or repairing technological baubles. He had so many halfway developed skills and almost-but-not-quite impressive fields of knowledge. Never enough to get him success or money, though. Never enough to make a difference. <br><br>What had begun as an attempt to make himself feel better had the opposite effect. Thinking of the skills he had squandered was making him bitter and angry with himself. He began to walk just a bit faster, unconsciously seeking to escape from himself, when suddenly he was aware that the rain had stopped falling on his head and back, and there was someone walking beside him.<br><br>It was a woman - a striking woman, at that. He nearly stumbled over his feet as he looked at her, realizing that she was holding an umbrella over both of their heads. He gazed in confusion at her beautiful face and distinctive hair, clearly not understanding who she was or what she wanted for several long seconds after she had spoken to him.<br><br><em>"You're going to be sick if you keep going like this, you know. There's a nice cafe over there. Come join me."</em><br><br>His eyes followed her gesture to the cafe behind her. It looked warm and inviting, though he would have been tempted by her offer even if it had been a dump. <br><br>"Oh, I, um..." he said, unsure of what to say. His natural instinct was to decline the odd invitation. After all, he didn't know her in the slightest, right? But as he hesitated and thought about it, declining seemed like a worse and worse idea. Where did he have to be instead, after all? Just home by himself, wallowing in his failures? Why not spend some time warm and dry with a beautiful stranger? It was just about the time of day he normally ate a free meal at work, anyways - and he WAS feeling hungry.<br><br>Most of all, though, something in the aura and attitude of the redheaded woman in front of him made refusing her feel...wrong. He felt as though it would be unnatural to tell her "No."<br><br>"I'd love to join you," he said at last with a weak smile, "Thank you." He followed her towards the cafe, letting her set the pace since she was the one carrying the umbrella. "I'm Nick, by the way," he added as they walked. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>13-12-2013, 20:38:07</strong>
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				That the boy was surprised at her sudden intrusion into his life was itself not surprising. Cassandra had often had to be subtle, coy, even coquettish in the past, as many men and women felt it intimidating to be approached in such a forward manner. She had learned early on that to be direct was to be found scary, especially by men. Sometimes, the situation called for that; more often, it just made things more complicated. It was unfortunate because she was a direct person by nature, and to her, little was more aggravating than wasting time being circuitous. Of course, her patience was infinite if it meant doing something right; unnecessary delays, however, strained it very quickly. <br><br><em>"Oh, I, um..."</em><br><br>It took a few seconds for the man to answer her, but she didn't press him. Even though she didn't know him, she felt that she already had a fair enough grasp on who he was. It wasn't a talent so much as a result of years of experience dealing intimately with hundreds of people; eventually, patterns emerged, to those willing to see them, and over time she learned how to accurately judge a person within moments of first seeing them. She'd met dozens of men just like him, and could tell at a glance what he was. Shy, meek, hard on himself, and craving direction. She had enjoyed these kind of men above all others: more often than not, they were interesting individuals who had the misfortune to have traits that made them undesirable in a society that still had strict unspoken rules for gender roles and norms. They were quick to submit to her, not out of lust but out of a yearning for purpose. She had felt more natural, more <em>right</em>, with these men than with anyone else she'd eventually made into a slave. <br><br>And this time, she wasn't going to pawn him off to some furry who wanted a docile breeding stud. The possibility that she couldn't have him didn't cross her mind; after all, she <em>always</em> got what she wanted, in the end.<br><br><em>"I'd love to join you. Thank you,"</em> he said at last. His face and posture had said 'no' at first, which she had expected. He had looked intimidated and maybe a little awed at her presence. She didn't find it hard to think that he was unused to people approaching him in this way. Perhaps he was more confident than she gave him credit for. Or perhaps, she thought, recalling his slow, defeated march through the cold rain, he was too overcome to refuse. <br><br>Whatever his reason, he smiled at her, though it was weak and timid. She offered her own small smile, though hers had a different meaning. It was not hesitant, but rather meant to be accepting, even reassuring. It wasn't a <em>real</em> smile; those she reserved and only showed when she felt they were deserved. There hadn't been many in her prior life. Perhaps that would change. <br><br>She slipped an arm behind him and put her hand on his back as they walked, unconcerned about the cold, wet cloth. She led him across the street, crossing where the water was thinnest. Her boots could handle the water, but perhaps not his own shoes. <br><br><em>"I'm Nick, by the way."</em><br><br>"Cassandra," she replied. Her response wasn't curt -just short. Besides, the rain was growing in volume, and it made no sense to compete with it when they would be safe from it shortly. They stepped onto the pavement, and then made their way to the door to the cafe. There, a large overhang shielded them from the rain, and Cassandra shook most of the water off of her large umbrella. She gestured for him to go on.<br><br>"Ask if they have any towels and warm yourself up," she instructed. "I'll get something for the two of us, so come find me." She smiled the same smile at him, then folded the umbrella. <br><br>Cassandra wiped her feet on the mat in front of the door, and then stepped inside. She dropped her umbrella in the already mostly-full stand and took a moment to take in her surroundings. Like she had surmised from outside, the atmosphere here was welcoming; not too full and not too empty. The door closed behind her, and the sound of the rain immediately dropped to a quiet roar. She made her way to the front, the warmth of the restaurant driving out the wisps of cold still clinging to her. Just as she reached the counter, the only other person in line departed, sparing Cassandra the wait.<br><br>She made her order and found two empty seats at a high table attached to one of the large window walls. She sat down and looked into the pouring rain, but before she could start brooding, two cups of hot chocolate were set in front of her. She thanked the waiter, pushed one cup to what she had designated as Nick's seat, and then sipped her drink. Perhaps it was odd, to be so old and still crave something as simple as hot chocolate, but she was half fox and so it was normally hazardous to her. For the longest time, before she'd learned to change her shape, it was something that was simply inaccessible, and when she did manage to turn herself human, she'd often been too proud to give in to what she perceived as weakness. Although furries were varied, the most prominent species were almost all canines, and it was partly thanks to them that chocolate products had become taboo and viewed as a disdainful invention of humanity in the furry world. She was long past caring at this point, however, and instead waited patiently for her impromptu date -target?- to show up.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>art3mis</strong> on <strong>13-12-2013, 21:53:17</strong>
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				Nick felt the woman put her arm around his back, guiding him across the street towards the cafe. He felt as though it was definitely odd for her to be so bold as to actually touch him just moments after meeting him, but once more his natural instinct told him that <em>this was right, and natural</em>. Maybe it was because she was such a formidable figure, several inches taller than him and with a body that was noticeably stronger than his own. Or perhaps it was just a normal reaction for ANY guy, when approached by a beautiful woman? Nick couldn't say for certain. After all, he'd never been anyone but himself. He didn't know what other men would have done. <br><br>She introduced herself as Cassandra, but the pouring rain made it too difficult to conduct any further greetings. They entered the cafe and she directed him to ask for some towels to dry himself off while she ordered. Normally Nick never would have been presumptuous enough to ask for towels in a place he didn't know, but her tone made it clear she didn't consider it a big deal at all...and so he didn't either. She seemed to be familiar with this place, so maybe they knew her here? Or maybe she was just used to getting what she wanted in life? He could definitely imagine that was the case. <br><br>He nodded to Cassandra as she dried off her umbrella, then wiped his feet and walked towards the door to the kitchen. He gave a weak, slightly confused smile as a woman who worked there noticed him, and then he said, "Is there any way you could give me some towels to dry off with?" The motherly woman nodded and replied "Of course, wait right there!" A few minutes later she returned with a handful of clean white hand towels, and Nick said his thanks and began to dry his limbs and hair as he made his way over to where Cassandra was seated. He did his best not to drip onto the floor as he went, but noticed with embarrassment the woman who had helped him already gotten out the mop to clean up after him. <br><br>Nick took his seat at the high chair next to the window, glancing down at the mug of what looked to be hot chocolate in front of him. Steam was rising off of the cups, creating the effect of a mystical fog around Cassandra's face. "Thanks so much," he said earnestly, draping some of the wet towels on the back of the chair and then wrapping one around his neck to try to warm up. <br><br>He lifted his cup and took a sip, nodding appreciatively. He swallowed and said, "That's really good. I love hot chocolate. I love all sweets, actually. Do you come here a lot? I don't normally walk through this neighborhood, so I've never really seen this place before." Nick realized he was speaking a bit rapidly thanks to his nervousness. He shifted in his chair, accidentally bumping her knee with his own beneath the table. He blushed and nearly dropped his mug as he hastily .<br><br>"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, clearly embarrassed and apologetic. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>15-12-2013, 23:41:50</strong>
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				<div class="floatright"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Cassandra's Piercings</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i.imgur.com/1qFIm2D.jpg)</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Cassandra's Tattoos</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i.imgur.com/VvGwLDk.jpg)</div></div></div>Nick came to join Cassandra at the table she'd picked out, and she couldn't help but smile a little when she saw the load of towels he was carrying. She'd forgotten how kind the co-owner of the cafe/bakery could be. It had been something of a surprise, the first time she'd visited the place near closing time on a slow day, to be treated so nicely and then to have such an honest and pleasant conversation. It had been enough to make Cassandra a regular at the place, and she'd since had many more short but interesting conversations. The woman -Isabelle- was the only person to whom Cassandra had ever felt she needed to justify herself, though she would never admit anything of her true life. Even so, she was starting to feel vaguely like a friend, and if that wasn't a sign of the changing times in Cassandra's life, she didn't know what was.<br><br>Cassandra certainly wasn't blind to the way that the world worked. She knew that as a human, her set of characteristics more often than not marked her as a target -for ridicule, for suspicion, for being snubbed. She was female, she was black, and she dressed and pierced and tattooed herself in ways that would never be accepted in 'polite' society. She was reserved, too, rarely smiled, and only made friends when it suited her. It was impossible not to notice, but she paid it no mind unless it got in her way -and then sheer force of personality quickly persuaded everyone involved to get right back <em>out</em> of her way. But unlike other humans, of course, she wasn't forced to live it every minute of every day. She had the option of crossing into a completely different society at will, one where the respect she earned for her work and talents far outweighed the disrespect earned for her half-draconian heritage. <br><br>She was still facing the window, but watched Nick out of the corner of her eye as he arranged his towels, observing him. He wrapped one around his neck, and although it would look a bit strange to others, he at least had the sense not to be shy about protecting himself from sickness. She approved of the precaution. It was truly amazing how difficult it could be to find someone who had even this shred of common sense. Once he was settled, he lifted his cup to his lips and seemed to approve of it. She could tell he appreciated the drink, if not for its taste, then at least for its warmth. There was something oddly attractive in tending to someone she was trying to attract, she'd discovered. Many people enjoyed the feeling of nurturing, and perhaps she did too, in some small way. But she enjoyed it far more for the way it clearly made a distinction between who was stronger and who was weaker. Other furries never thought twice about it when they found out, if they ever did -after all, it was only natural for humans to be beneath them. But Cassandra's streak of dominance wasn't some artifact of racial prejudice; it was an intrinsic, inextricable part of who she was. It was one of the many factors that had made her a legendary slaver rather than just a good one. She didn't strive to be the best simply out of ambition; it came to her naturally, as flight came naturally to a bird. It was not a way to compensate or seek attention -it was simply who she was.<br><br><em>"That's really good. I love hot chocolate. I love all sweets, actually. Do you come here a lot? I don't normally walk through this neighborhood, so I've never really seen this place before."</em> It didn't take an expert to see that he was nervous. Cassandra resisted the urge to smile at his babbling and subsequent nervous backtracking. She didn't want to drive him off in embarrassment, after all. He squirmed in his chair, and his knee bumped into hers, causing her cup to slosh its contents a little, though none leaped out. He blushed, and the urge intensified. She was too disciplined to let anything but a small reassuring smile come out, however.<br><br><em>"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."</em><br><br>She gently laid her steady hand on his and looked him in the eyes to calm him down, amused. He was neither rude nor too bashful, so she was reasonably certain that if he gained some confidence -perhaps in as little as a few days- he could make conversation without censoring himself. For now, at least, it was endearing to see his nervousness.<br><br>"Relax," she instructed him, her tone easy but firm. After a moment, her hand slipped away and she sipped again from her mug. "I love hot chocolate too," she said, allowing a smile. "This is one of my favorite places," she continued, answering his question. She gestured toward the counter. "What do you want to eat?"<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>art3mis</strong> on <strong>17-12-2013, 17:07:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Nick felt a pleasant charge, almost like electricity, running through his hand when the gorgeous black woman touched him, reassuring him that she hadn't taken offense at his accidental bump. He began to feel warmer immediately, and when after a moment she removed her hand, he was acutely aware of the absence. <br><br>She told him to relax, and he found himself wishing it were that simple. He took a deep breath and set down his cup, attempting to steady his rattled nerves. His mind felt unpleasantly split between the concerns of his day-to-day life - <em>what was he going to do for money? What would he tell his mother?</em> - and the almost dreamlike state of his present reality. A woman - a very special woman, by the looks of her - had approached him on the street and invited him to share some time with her in a cafe, to get out of the rain. It didn't seem like the kind of thing that really happened...especially to him. <br><br>Cassandra brought him out of his swirling thoughts as she asked him what he wanted to eat. He hesitated again, lifting his mug to take another sip of the wonderful hot chocolate. The sweet liquid was stirring his hunger into greater strength than before. After a moment he said, "Well...I don't really know what's good here. What are you having?" he looked to her for guidance. They both shared a love of hot chocolate, after all - so he was ready to follow her lead once more. <br><br>As he gradually warmed and his mind focused more and more on the present moment, Nick was realizing exactly how striking Cassandra was. She was very tall for a woman - taller than him by several inches, for sure - and between her haircut, her piercings, and her tattoos, she was clearly someone with a strong sense of herself and her own style. She was also flat-out HOT, and Nick's straying eyes and a slow-building flush on his cheeks made it clear that it was impossible for him to ignore that. <br><br>Once the matter of their meal order had been settled, Nick attempted to get to know his dining partner better. "So what do you do? Are you like...an artist or something?" He winced inside as he said the words, hoping he wasn't offending her with his assumptions based on her looks.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Lucky Day (art3mis and Deluxe489)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>20-12-2013, 08:54:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The effect that her touch had on Nick was visible almost immediately. His entire countenance brightened, the change as subtle as a fireworks display to her experienced eyes. She left her hand on his long enough to let the feeling sink in, enough that he might miss it once she took it away, but no longer. Her hand slipped back to her cup, and she watched him from the corner of her eye.<br><br>For a moment, he seemed distracted. His eyes stared vacantly, suggesting that he was thinking. In another set of circumstances, she might have interpreted it as boredom or disinterest, but she suspected that it had more to do with whatever had sent him walking dejectedly in the pouring rain. The weather had only intensified since they went indoors, the rain coming down in intense sheets driven by the high wind to slam loudly but harmlessly into the buildings and streets. She would have to find out what was on his mind, if only to perhaps find out more about him, though ideally to also find a way to use whatever it was to her advantage.<br><br>She frowned at herself for a brief moment, but quickly replaced it with a neutral, pleasant expression, hoping he hadn't seen it. Was she still thinking like a slaver? She'd put that part of her life behind her, and for good reason. The last thing she needed was to go back to a life of endless work and questionable morals -and they were questionable, because even though she doubted she'd ever see humans as equals, it had become inescapably obvious just how alike they were compared to furries. There was nothing inherently wrong in wanting to find something she could use to get him closer to her; everyone participated in that kind of behavior, whether they admitted it or not. She just had to remind herself that she was doing this for herself, not for a client. It was still a thought she was getting used to; decades' worth of reinforced methodology and behaviors simply didn't go away without a fight.<br><br>She asked him what he wanted to eat.<br><br><em>"Well...I don't really know what's good here. What are you having?"</em> Nick said, looking to her for guidance. That put a small smile on her face again. She enjoyed being deferred to, after all.<br><br>"Most of what I've tried here is good," she said, "but my favorite are the crepes. Wait here," she instructed. <br><br>Cassandra pushed lifted herself out of her chair and walked back to the front. This time, she ordered crepes -salmon for her, chicken and ham for him-, paid for it in advance, and went back to her seat. An interesting aspect of furry society was that species of both predator and prey species lived together in relative harmony (unlike in ancient history, when the roles of predator and prey had persisted). One effect of this coexistence was that most forms of meat had become taboo; certainly, eating meat in public practically begged for a fight. Because fish had no sapient counterparts, carnivorous furries generally turned to those, although they occasionally ate other meat (sometimes including human) in private. Cassandra periodically indulged herself, too, though always in the human part of the city, but she was content to stay with what she was accustomed to most of the time.<br><br><em>"So what do you do? Are you like...an artist or something?"</em> Nick asked her once she came back. She raised an eyebrow at him. An artist? She took a moment to think of a reply, making him wait, in the meantime finishing the last of her chocolate. When she put it down, she turned her head to face him.<br><br>"In a way, I was," she said. Her eyes flicked to the rain outside. Seducing, transforming, and training humans to be ideal slaves certainly required imagination and talent, and some might call it art. She never saw it as anything more than business, however. Her eyes came back to him. "But not exactly. Either way, I'm retired now," she freely admitted. A hand reached up to lightly finger an eyebrow piercing, and she looked up at it. "But these things can't tell you anything," she said, confident in her guess as to why he asked if she was an artist in particular. "I don't want to talk about it now, but maybe one day I'll tell you," she added, the implication -that she intended to see him again- clear in her words.<br><br>"What about you?" she went on. She appraised his dress shirt, still damp from the rain. It looked nice, but unless he intentionally wanted to walk in the rain, his job couldn't afford him enough to call a cab. "Do you work in a restaurant?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
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