Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: PeacethatPowerbrings on 26-04-2009, 21:50:21</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>26-04-2009, 21:50:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mark sat at his usual table in the Starbucks just down the street from the building where his offices were, and two blocks over from he lived. He didn't go much of anywhere, in fact, he was something of a staple at the Starbucks because he was so predicatable they usually had his coffee ready before he arrived.<br><br>He was sitting with a laptop, and a briefcase and a few rolls of blue prints, that were clearly worse for wear. He wasn't the most organized person. When his phone rang, he ended up spilling the coffee on his shirt a little, trying to wipe it out with his tie before answering it.<br><br>"Did you hear about the attempt on the Lady?" he asked.<br><br>"Why in the hell would I know about some..." he really was thick sometimes, if technically a geinus, "right...of course, its all over the news, The Acrobat was caught right?"<br><br>"Why didn't you do an interview?" asked the man on the other side, Larry, his head of finance.<br><br>"I only designed the system," he said, "I didn't catch The Acrobat myself..."<br><br>"Might as well have...well..." Larry trailed off, and Mark heard a cork pop somewhere in the background.<br><br>"I'm not coming in today," he said, "I've got to finish the casino job, I'll be back next week sometime..."<br><br>He hung up and sighed over his shirt. It certainly wasn't the first shirt he'd done that to, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He took off his glasses and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, putting them back on just in time to see her. He'd seen for a few days, but she was probably new in town, or just moved, because he'd never seen her before, he had the memory to know that with certainty.<br><br>He smiled at her, as she smiled, at him, he knew because there was no one else around, and she was making eye contact.<br><br>He looked back to his work and closed his laptop, putting it in his briefcase before bundling the rolls of blueprints under his arm and picking it up, coffee in hand, to leave. <br><br>His company, run by Terry, and a few other good people, who he barely knew, took care of what he did, at least on the business side of it, they enabled him to make money from what he was good at, and he was thankful for that. He did all the work himself, the programming and the set-up with contractors for the heavy-lifting. Perhaps that fact alone made his security systems, vaults, whatever he designed, the most secure, nobody had the plans, nobody had the over-ride codes, and nobody could tamper with them without a degree in electrical engineering and the ability to read his mind.<br><br>He'd built the system for the Lady of Ireland because he'd been paid to, but also because it was a challenge. Security systems for jewels were often less complex, easier to get past, because of the volume of traffic around it. He took the job because he liked the challenge and the money, that his system had caught an infamous jewel thief, well that was just icing on the cake.<br><br>Besides, it was probably his crowning glory, that system was, for all intents and purposes inpenetrable, well, as far as that went...you could always demonlish the building, but still, a hundred men with guns wouldn't even be able to touch the stone let alone steal it, and one jewel thief, cat-burgler whatever this thief was, didn't stand a chance.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>02-05-2009, 16:48:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Erica sat in the car, watching the streaming video from the remote camera on her svelte black subnotebook. The camera sending the video was was a tiny one with a wireless transmitter that she had hidden in the Starbucks a few weeks before. She had a good view of Mark, though he was just sitting there using his computer.<br><br>Thanks to the bug she had planted in his usual table, she heard his phone ring at the same time he did. She smirked a little when he spilled his coffee on his shirt. Why were the super-smart ones always a bit goofy like that? <br><br>The bug had taken a little work to plant in the unadorned table. Her solution had been to dismount the wooden edge pieces from the perimeter of the tabletop using a specialized solvent, then doing some custom work on one of the wood pieces to create space for the bug. The trickiest part had been using an audio-transparent synthetic to cover the one small opening for the sound, without giving away that it was any different even to careful observers. It involved precise detail work using jeweler's tools to match the grain on the wood and the existing finish precisely.<br><br>In the end, though, the bug seemed to work perfectly. Mark -- and everyone else -- had been using the table for a couple of weeks now, and no one had reacted strangely to it.<br><br>Erica listened to the very beginning of his conversation -- good, he was getting the news -- then prepared for her performance. She pulled the car around from the deserted side street and into the parking lot, closed her computer, and went inside.<br><br>She concentrated on what she was supposed to be feeling. Friendly, open. Nice girl who had just left her hometown to move to the city for a job.<br><br>Her timing seemed to be pretty much dead on. He noticed her almost as soon as she entered the store, and he looked at him and smiled.<br><br>She had carefully constructed her appearance to not look carefully constructed at all. Simple knee-length A-line skirt, a top that showed just enough skin to be suggestive without coming anywhere near trashy, some simple sandals. She'd been careful to buy everything at the mall for authenticity. Her hair was a deep brunette that set off her slightly-tanned skin, pulled back into a pony with a simple black scrunchie. It was morning, so she had passed on makeup except for a clear lip gloss, though she had had her nails done in a medium reddish-brown at a place down the street.<br><br>Obviously, she hadn't changed her figure: her body was fairly thin naturally, but still had curves to it. She had green eyes, and a face attractive enough to draw attention, but not so striking as to make it difficult for her to be unobtrusive when she wanted to be. Though she had very solid muscle tone, she worked hard to keep her body looking soft and feminine rather than muscled and athletic to avoid raising suspicions.<br><br>Naturally, instead of pursuing anything, he gathered up his things to leave, and she had to concentrate to keep her amusement off of her face. As he walked across the room, she made her move.<br><br>She walked over to him, flashing a disarming smile. "Hi, I'm Erica. I always see you in here, and since I'm new in town and don't really know anyone yet, I figured it couldn't hurt anything to come introduce myself."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>03-05-2009, 04:56:06</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh...Hi," he said, looking at both of his hands realizing, that he couldn't offer her a handshake and gave a nervous laugh.<br><br>"I'm a little cluttered... apparently," he said, "but...uh...would you like to sit down for a bit, I've got some time..."<br><br>He walked back to his table setting down his briefcase and the blueprints, setting down his coffee and pulling out a chair for her and offering it to her.<br><br>"Sorry, I'm not usually so...busy, but I'm working on something at the moment..." he said.<br><br>He wasn't great with women. True, he was good looking, and very well off, but he had fairly pathetic interpersonal skills. He tended to be unable to give women what they were looking for. Besides, he'd often been set apart from the women attracted to him for his looks and money by his IQ. He tended to make them said, "I don't get it..." a lot.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 02:36:48</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Sure, I'd love to come talk for a few minutes."<br><br>Erica followed Mark back to his table. He hadn't noticed that she didn't have a drink in her hand yet, but she didn't see any reason to give him time to think while she went and got one. Besides, her small town girl probably wouldn't interrupt things either when meeting a new guy.<br><br>He was attractive, successful, and -- she knew for a fact -- incredibly brilliant, but it was obvious he was lost at sea. It was actually kind of endearing, and it would be interesting to meet him, since it wasn't often that she met someone she considered to be anywhere close to an equal. Well, it would be interesting if he could calm down and talk to her, anyway. <br><br>"Oh, don't worry about it at all." She touched his arm lightly. "Nothing wrong with being busy, it certainly beats being bored." To another woman, this would be the equivalent of a neon sign, but she didn't think he was the type who pick up hints all that easily.<br><br>"So what is it you're working so hard on?" It was way, way too early to try to get any information that could possibly be useful to her, but this was simple Dating 101 -- guys almost always love to talk about their work.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 03:38:46</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh...well," he started. His mind worked fast, but of course, he had to edit what he said. There were things he couldn't just give away, but his work was no secret, far from it, his name would be all over the news, at least for a little while, as the designer of the security system that had caught the Acrobat.<br><br>"I'm designing a vault," he said, "for a casino...right now I'm working on the locking mechanism...nothing interesting...really."<br><br>He stopped himself, knowing she probably didn't want to hear about what he was doing, that she was probably just flirting. Maybe not, but he hoped he was right. He wasn't good at signals, but he thought he had this one right.<br><br>"If you don't mind me asking....what do you do?" he asked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 04:47:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh, wow! That's like something in the <em>movies</em>!" Erica's eyes widened as she said it. She worked hard to hit the right notes of captivated but utterly out of her depth.<br><br>Mark tried to change the subject -- not surprisingly, he was a bit cagy about his work. She happily let him so that it wouldn't look like she was fishing for information. Which she wasn't -- not yet, anyway.<br><br>"Oh, me? I just started an outside sales job for a printer/copier company. So far, I like it. Get to be out and about, meet people." The job, which wasn't so bad, was actually a perfect cover. It gave her plenty of freedom to be out around town, wherever she wanted to be.<br><br>She went on, continuing her cover story. "I moved here a couple of weeks ago from a little town a few hours south of here called Dalton -- you've probably never heard of it. Great place, but not a lot of opportunity." She had carefully made sure he had no roots in that area before picking it, researching it, meeting all sorts of people down there. Thanks to a little deft adaptation, she was even in a MySpace group for Dalton High's Class of '98.<br><br>As long as he didn't actually go down there and start interrogating people, her cover story was rock solid. But if your mark was suspicious enough of your cover story to do something like that, you've already lost the game. The point was for it to be woven from a fabric so consistent with the way the world works that the truth already seems inevitable, because the alternative sounds crazy and paranoid. Plus, he seemed to like her, so he would <em>want</em> to believe her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 05:06:41</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Mark had heard of Dalton. Though, for most people even if they had they would've though she was right, his memory was something...special. He remembered exactly when and where he'd heard of it. Two years ago, April, eleventh, at work, an intern in his billing department talking about going home to a place called Dalton. He didn't know if it was the same place, but it hardly seemed worth mentioning, the man hadn't stayed long, and it wasn't important.<br><br>"I know what you mean," he said, "I don't think I could spend all day in an office..."<br><br>He liked this girl, she was certainly beautiful, small town, not manipulative, at least he thought not. Though, she clearly wasn't a match for his intellect, she worked at a printer/copier company, but he didn't mind, because she certainly didn't seem stupid, or dull.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 05:57:27</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Exactly! It's so nice to have the freedom to come and go!" She just barely caressed his arm as she said it. She did it casually enough that it could seem perfectly innocent and friendly, but there was no way he could fail to notice her touch.<br><br>The key was to draw him out enough that he felt comfortable with her. Since he seemed to be nervous around women, she needed to do everything she could to put him at ease. The fact that it was easy to talk to her, unlike other women, would hopefully be a big selling point.<br><br>She couldn't see the topic going anywhere useful, so she tried a different direction. If he wouldn't talk about his job, maybe hobbies? "So what do you do when you're not designing casinos?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 06:16:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Just vaults..." he corrected almost instantly, "erm...I only design vaults and security systems...and...well, I don't do much, I read...listen to music...that kind of thing..."<br><br>He realized he was an impossibly dull person, she couldn't be interested in him, but, against all odds, she was touching his arm and carrying on a conversation. He had to wonder if she was after his money, though if she knew what he made at his job she was far more informed than he got any indication of. Besides, despite his bad people skills, his intellect ensured, he thought, that if she were trying to get money out of him, or trying to kill him, he'd figure it out, he had an ordered life and he'd know right away.<br><br>He hated himself for even thinking about such things, he knew that if he voiced what he said, no woman could be with him, he simply thought too much.<br><br>"I should get going..." he said, "I'm supposed to fax something to Vegas in an hour..."<br><br>He started gathering up his things, pausing a moment to ask her a quick question.<br><br>"My place isn't far...if you wanted to walk and talk...I mean, unless you're uncomfortable..." he said.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 06:48:23</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She could see the gears turning in his head. She had thought that he would be confident enough in himself that he could handle women being attracted to him -- he was a handsome guy. But it appeared that she had been a little too forward for his comfort level. Time to dial it back, and let him make the next move. Surely she had made enough of an impression to keep him from blowing her off.<br><br>"No, not uncomfortable at all." She sighed, working to look disappointed enough that he could still see her interest, but not devastated or anything, because it was too soon for that. "But, actually, I have an appointment across town that I need to leave for in just a couple of minutes, so I can't."<br><br>Leave the door open, that was the important thing. "But I'd be happy to drop you off, if you'd like." She stood to leave, smoothing her skirt as she did. <br><br>If he didn't take that bait, hopefully he'd at least ask for her phone number. And if all else failed, there was always tomorrow. She would get there earlier so he would have to make the move.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 07:19:19</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh...in no, I like the walk...but I can give you my phone number..." he said.<br><br>He didn't ask for numbers, he only ever offered his, perhaps only because he believed that women weren't ever really interested. He was the one with the flexible schedule, and the money, and if she wanted to see him, when she called, and what she was planning would give him information.<br><br>He hated being suspicious, but he wasn't a believer in using a relationship<br>As a tool to extract money from those with it, sex for money, he was fine with, but there had to be that understanding, and he wasn't interested in hookers.<br><br>He took out a pad of paper and a pen writing down his number. He the kind of geinus who needed something to write on at any-time, he never knew when inspiration might come.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 21:40:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Wow, he really <em>was</em> determined to be standoffish about the whole thing. Just what had some woman done to this poor guy? Oh well, anything that was worth doing was worth taking your time and doing right.<br><br>"Sure, that sounds good. It was great meeting you!" She took the number from him and smiled, then walked to the door. In the process, Erica gave him a pretty good look, but didn't exaggerate her walk or anything like that -- she wasn't at all sure it would help her cause at this point.<br><br>She got in her cute little used roadster (eyecatching, but still in a normal person's price range) and drove off to go make some sales calls. Staying on top of her cover job was always a good way to stay patient.<br><br>As she drove, she took stock mentally: good looking guy, lots of money, incredibly smart, has trouble meeting women anyway because he doesn't relate well to most people. She supposed the money might have attracted the wrong type as well, though if it did, those women must have been pretty enterprising to find him. He certainly didn't look or act like most rich guys.<br><br>Still, the last thing she cared about was his money, and it shouldn't be too hard to get that point across if she planned the next date properly.<br><br>Her train of thought ended when she arrived at a small accounting firm that had outgrown their previous copier. Time to focus on consumable cost, TCO, and the tax implications of various leasing strategies.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>04-05-2009, 22:12:36</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Mark made the walk back to his home in a relatively short time. He walked to and from work, drank at a starbucks, and his clothing was clearly not befitting a multi-millionaire, though, he knew that in the right context his net worth was readily apparent. For example, he drove a maserati, which might not have been all that impressive, but for the fact that it was the cheapest car he owned, and if anyone saw him pulling out of his section of the underground garage for his building, they would probably have noticed his other nine cars, including gifts of Lamborghini, Rolls Royce, and other, mostly for his work with their repective owners.<br><br>He ended up pressing (P) when he entered the elevator, another indication of his wealth, and women with him in the elevator always took notice of that. When he stepped out of the elevator, he stepped into a wide open ultra-modern penthouse. Of course, as a designer of security systems, he'd put something in his own home, a simple glass box, that one stepped into immediately out of the elevator. It was bulletproof, shockproof, and would stand up to several hours of drilling. A high-powered cutting torch could get through, but, he figured if anyone was that committed to getting into his home, they could have whatever they took, everything sensitive he owned, everything of any real monetary value was on encrypted hard-drives, which would take a decade to crack with a supercomputer, or in his head, though...mostly in his head.<br><br>He swiped his hand across the plain steel plate of the lock, and it opened. A chip in hand doing the unlocking.<br><br>Once inside he left the door open and went to his office-area, though it was badly defined, as his work tended to spill over, despite the overall neatness of the place.<br><br>He spread out his blueprints and set down his briefcase, getting together what he needed for his client in Vegas. He couldn't help but think about the girl at the starbucks. Erica. She definately seemed like a departure from the women who were normally interested in him, though he couldn't be entirely sure.<br><br>He realized his paranoia was probably misplaced, she admitted to being a small-town girl with none-too-glamarous employment. He knew that that alone would tell him she wasn't looking for money, and probably didn't know he had any<br><br>He lived in hope.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 00:00:05</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She went through the rest of the day doing pretty ordinary things. The accountants wanted time to think (big shock there), but Erica managed to get a verbal deal with the regional branch of an auto parts distributor, so she spent time back in the office getting the proper paperwork together to finalize things. She got congratulations, of course. She was on the way to breaking their sales records for new hires, so everyone loved her there except for one bitter, middle-aged divorcee who saw anyone else doing well as a threat to her own commissions.<br><br>That night, she spent a while online, getting data updates. To any traffic analysis, she was surfing Cute Overload and shopping for clothing online, but when she went to purchase something from the clothing store, the secure transaction encryption provided cover for her clandestine activities.<br><br>She had done consulting work with the clothing store a few years ago, under a different identity. The result was that there was a chunk of their website that she had complete control over. From there, she could go through anonymous proxies and access any data she knew how to get her hands on. She grabbed updates of the email of key players at the Galway Museum of History (thanks to a previous hack), and spent a while reading it offline. Everything seemed to be ok on that end, so she went to bed early.<br><br><br>The next morning, she went to a breakfast meeting she had set up with a client. She would hate for Mark to think she was stalking him, though technically, she supposed she actually <em>was</em>. Her morning was pretty ordinary <br><br>When lunchtime rolled around, she decided she had probably made him wait long enough -- nice small town girls certainly didn't follow the 3 day rule. A movie at the local mall was lame, but scoring tickets to the ballet sent the wrong signals.<br><br>She called his number.<br><br>"Hey Mark. This is Erica, from yesterday? I read about this great little place where they have a live jazz band on Fridays, and I was wondering if you wanted to go."<br><br>Most people don't know anything about jazz, but there aren't many people over about 25 that won't enjoy a decent live jazz band if they stumble across one. She probably wouldn't get him out on the dance floor, but there would be a good mix of quiet time to talk between set breaks and interesting music to listen to.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 00:34:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mark was on his laptop, which was basically just a mobile terminal for his home network. He was running some virtual stress tests for the vault, when his phone rang.<br><br>"Yeah," he said, "that sounds great...."<br><br>He wasn't exactly a jazz person, he was more of an classical music fan, he'd never found another genre with anything havig quite the impact of Mozart's requiem. Opera was another favourite of his, but he imagine that he would be the one doing the inviting if they were seeing something in that vein.<br><br>"Do you want me to meet you there?" he asked.<br><br>He wondered if she would get uncomfortable if she saw his car, but he hoped not, he really did find her interesting, and hoped she would't care, from what he could tell she seemed to be a hard working intelligent kind of person, that he sawas someone he could genuinely connect with.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 00:59:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hmm. From his reaction, Mark didn't seem to be a jazz guy. That meant he was probably either a rock-historian type ("the solo in the '74 Fillmore concert is <em>so</em> much more powerful than the '72 set from Red Rocks, but I think part of it was because he had switched to a Rickenbacker"), or a classical fan, of which there were many varieties. Of course you never knew with the really smart ones. Sometimes they listened to nothing but Portuguese Fado singers or something equally offbeat.<br><br>In the end, it didn't really matter unless he <em>hated</em> jazz, and if it had turned out to be his obsession, he might think she was stalking him somehow. The point was that she had picked something interesting, but still accessible.<br><br>"Yeah, meeting you there sounds perfect! Around eight tomorrow night, so we can have something to eat before the band starts?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 01:21:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Sure," he said, "I'm looking forward to it."<br><br>He was happy that she'd called, and especially happy that she wasn't trying to impress. It meant a couple of things, first, that she hadn't googled him and discovered what he did, and how much he might be worth, or; that she had, and didn't care, both cases, definately a good thing.<br><br>"I've...uh...got to go," he said, he didn't think about how he sounded but it was probably, concerned.<br><br>He said goodbye, and hung up, staring at the computer screen. It showed the breaking point of the bolts for the vault door. He ended up putting his head in his hands. It seemed that he'd be doing another redesign, he was thankful that there didn't exist an "Acrobat," for casino vaults.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 04:21:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She chuckled silently to herself when he cut off the conversation so quickly, but said goodbye.<br><br>The next day and a half passed without incident, and she showed up Friday night all dressed up. If she had picked another venue, she wouldn't have done anything quite so elaborate, but there was jazz and potentially dancing, so she had an excuse for wearing a dress.<br><br>Her brunette hair hung a little past her shoulders in waves, framing her face nicely, and she had scoured the mall until she found a reasonably nice empire-waisted black dress and a pair of black suede open-toed wedges that worked with it. The dress came down to her knees, and while it had something of a plunge neckline, it stopped high enough that it was more suggestive than revealing. She had definitely followed the less-is-more philosophy of makeup as well, so overall, she was pretty sure she hit the small town girl dressed up for a date look.<br><br>She walked to the front door, opened it, and looked around for Mark.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 05:50:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mark realized he was running late and ended up speeding a little. He parked a half-block away, he had a city parking pass, he could park anywhere he liked, he'd done the security upgrade on the local museum, and they were allow to give them to staff.<br><br>He hopped out and practically bolted to the door, making his way inside. He didn't know what to expect but the place seemed nice, a little quiet, but she'd said they'd have dinner first. Definately a date, he knew that much.<br><br>He had suit, though he didn't wear a tie. Erica looked great, beautiful, which put Mark at ease, because it was an easy kind of beauty, and he knew she could get places with that look that meant that whatever reason she liked him had nothing to do with his paranoid suspicions.<br><br>"Hi, you look, amazing," he said, walking over to her, "should we...get a table?"<br><br>He started with a complement, he'd heard that somewhere, it was important to start with a complement. Eigth grade, Johnny Kent, had said his sister said that. He'd used it as a rule, and as a rule it had worked well for him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 18:23:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Erica smiled and accepted his compliment. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it! That's a nice suit, it looks good on you."<br><br>It did, actually. It wasn't a dramatically Italian-cut high-fashion suit, but that wouldn't have worked for Mark at all. Instead, it was more conventionally structured, but very well made and perfectly tailored. He would look good in a tie, too, but he seemed like the kind of guy who would feel less relaxed in a tie, and simply feeling comfortable was more a part of looking good than most people -- especially men -- realized.<br><br>"And a table would be perfect."<br><br>They were seated shortly thereafter, at a cozy table near enough to where the band was setting up to be able to get a clear view, but not so close that they would be unable to hear anything other than the music, once it started. The tables had white tablecloths, but nothing overtly ritzy about them.<br><br>The service was swift, and they had only been sitting down a moment when Steve, their waiter, introduced himself and asked if they wanted drinks or an appetizer.<br><br>"I think I'll have a white wine to start. Whatever Chardonnay you recommend that's available by the glass will be great." As herself, she would have ordered a gin martini, but that seemed a bit aggressive for her current persona. She smiled at the waiter, then looked over at Mark.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>05-05-2009, 20:32:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ice-wine, red, for me," he said, "uh...if you've got it...if not...I'll have that Chardonnay..."<br><br>He didn't want to seem picky, but he really did like ice-wine. He couldn't say he was a big drinker, or a frequent patron of fine-dining&nbsp; establishments, but when he did go out, ice-wine was what he had.<br><br>As the waiter left, Mark looked back to Erica, smiling clamly. He wondered what she was thinking. For all his mental acuity, telepathy was still impossible.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>tesseractive</strong> on <strong>08-05-2009, 17:06:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Erica had always thought of ice wine as more of a dessert wine herself, but she had met others who liked it as an aperitif or with dinner. Usually it was people who didn't drink all that often, but there was no harm in that.<br><br>The drinks arrived quickly. The place seemed to be gradually filling up, as people wanted to be seated before the band started playing.<br><br>Mark still seemed a little on edge, which didn't really surprise her. She took a sip of her wne, then decided to try once again to find comfortable ground for him, and hopefully find a way to connect.<br><br>"So, you were saying that you liked to read. What kind of things do you read?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Romancing the Stone (PtPb and tesseractive)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>08-05-2009, 18:51:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I usually read fiction, mystery, mostly, Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, that kind of thing.." he said.<br><br>He paused a moment and returned her question, trying to find some common ground, he didn't know why but he felt like they should've connected right away, he could tell she was intelligent, but it was something else.<br><br>He ignored the feeling, it was just his brain telling him he wasn't doing as well as well as he should have been.<br><br>"What do you do...for fun...I mean," he said.<br><br>He realized that if he'd said it in another as it could've been flirty, almost a come-on, but from him it was clearly just a mundane question. 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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