You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]
<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: Sho on 11-03-2009, 14:51:07</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sho</strong> on <strong>11-03-2009, 14:51:07</strong>
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				A few faint, dusty fingers of orange light filtered under the edge of the blackout curtains, falling across Masato's face and stirring him into wakefulness. The bustle of the city poured in through the thick glass; the screams of whores kicking out their clients, men laughing and falling down drunk, and cars honking as they tried to maneuver through the narrow alleys. He sat up, yawning slightly, blankets pooling at his waist and revealing a slender golden chest. He yawned, slightly, then rolled out of bed and into the bathroom.<br><br>His apartment was small, but well furnished. A tiny little living room with a couch and arm-chair, a flat-screen television on the wall. There was a tiny kitchenette with no food in it, but brand new appliances. The bathroom and bedroom, though, were beautifully appointed and fairly large. The bathroom's shower was huge, meant for sex. He had various massage oils as well as his own shampoos all stacked up on the shelves in it.<br><br>He flicked on the hot water, letting it cascade from the showerhead, steam immediately filling the entire room. Naked, he stepped into the shower and sat down on the small teak bench that had been placed in there for leverage, but that was good when he was tired.<br><br>Water pounding down on him, he let his skin redden, cheeks flushed as he let out a soft breath.<br><br>Three hours of sleep. Mechanically, he went through his routine, the three hours of sleep numbing his fingers. He ran gel through his hair, just a bit, locking it in place with some hairspray. Moisturizer, cologne, and a bag of clothes and he was ready to go. He wore sweats to go to work but once he got there he changed, slipping into skin-tight jeans and a button-down that was too tight to be considered entirely decent and just a bit too sheer.<br><br>He took the train to work, walking in with bag in hand, loaded with cologne and hair products and everything else he might need in the case of an emergency. He always kept a set of overnight clothes in case he went home with a long-term client. <br><br>He was tired, though, and sick. He rarely slept and drinking the liquor equivalent of nine bottles of champagne a night wasn't good for anyone. Drink, throw up, drink, throw up...it was a routine he had gotten into so that he wouldn't die from alcohol poisoning. Now, though, it wasn't uncommon to throw up blood from his liver, which was essentially fucked. The pay was so good, though, that he couldn't help it. He wanted to keep doing his job.<br><br>His ideal situation would be to have a lover come in and sweep him off of his feet, he thought as he worked through the night, tending to his clients and listening to them. Some big, strong man come in and support him. That wouldn't happen, though. He was still nervous about actually admitting that he was gay, though his closest friends had figured it out by now, given how little he enjoyed sleeping with his female clients. He could do it, but it was a chore for him rather than a pleasure. <br><br>When the night was finally over, the trains started again and the sun was coming up, he stepped out of the club. Eyes pale because of the contacts he was wearing, he walked down a back alley towards the train station, but was tipsy enough that he stumbled, catching himself against the wall, stopping to light a cigarette and just relax for a minute. He looked up, seeing a few thugs nearby, but didn't say much. If he didn't bother them, he figured, he'd be left alone. His bag sat at his feet, smoke slowly drifting from between his full lips.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urialen</strong> on <strong>11-03-2009, 15:48:20</strong>
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				Why didn't people ever learn? <br><br>The man had been given the management position of the club ten years ago after that business with the Koreans. He'd proved himself capable and loyal to Katsumi Kinjo and had been rewarded. There were some in the Kinjo Yakuza who resented this, and had in the past tried to show their displeasure. Once again, he proved himself capable. He still remembered vividly being dragged up to that hotel room, with the blood of Ryo Kinjo over his shirt and fists. He was sure he would be killed. After all, he'd killed the boss's nephew.<br><br>"How can I not kill you? Right here, now"?, Katsumi had said. "He was my sisters son".<br><br>"Katsumi-sama. I had no choice, what should I have done? Let him kill me"? The man said.<br><br>"Huh", the crime boss had grunted, and nodded to one of his bodyguards Tetsuya.<br><br>He was thrown onto a chair, Tetsuya standing behind him. He looked at the boss, waiting for that barley imperceptible nod that would indicate the garrot would not be far behind. The he would be dumped in an ally, with three bullet holes in his face. <br><br>Just then, the man saw another one of his men come through the door, and whisper in Kinjo's ear. Then there was a heated exchange, which back then he couldn't nderstand. Kinjo stood up slapped the guard accross the face and stormed out, glaring at me. "Oh fuck", he thought to myself. There are ways of dying, and there are ways of being kept alive in constant agony. Katsumi Kinjo was known to administer both.<br><br>He looked around him at the lush surroundings. All shiny and new, the black marble effect cocktail bar, where two other men had started to talk, the black and white wooden paneling, and the white carpet, so thick it came over the top of his shoes. <br><br>The door to the hotel room burst open an in walked the boss, and three others. This was it he'd though, game over.<br><br>"Karl Simmons", he'd said. "Why didn't you say something"? He felt a push on his shoulder, indicating that he should stand up. <br><br>"You wouldn't have believed me, and I would be dead". <br><br>All this went through his mind as he started out of the window of his office down to the street below. He turned to the man sitting in the chair opposite his desk.<br><br>"How much? All together, how much"? Simmons demanded.<br><br>"Fifty", whimpered the man.<br><br>He nodded at the suited muscular man standing behind the chair, who grabbed the captives hair, raised his other hand and punched him in the face, with a crunching sound, like the snapping of a chopstick.<br><br>"Are we sure now, I don't want to tell the boss fifty, and then find out it's a hundred, or two hundred. One more time. How much"? <em>Snap</em>.<br><br>He knew exactly how much. One hundred and fifty thousand yen. Simmons sighed. They never learn, well they do, too late. Ryo Kinjo had learned. That to skim money off the top of Katsumi Kinjo profits was to invite death. He smiled at the memory of relief when he'd been shown the CCTV footage of his confrontation with Ryo, it was all recorded. Ryo's admission, his offer to cut Simmons in on the scam, and his declaration of hatred for his uncle.<br><br>They really didn't ever learn. <br><br>He went back to the window, his sudden uplift in mood dampened by the sight of human detritus below. Drunks, whores, addicts, the lot. He noticed a young man disappear into the ally, he recognized the face. It was that so called host from across the road, the one his competition was always crowing about. He watched him stop and light a cigarette thinking it was no wonder he was so popular with his clients, the could pass for a girl. Simmons quickly looked away from the boy and saw two of his doormen wandering over to the smoker. It looked like they were asking him for a light, but the mood changed, and he could see that they were starting to harass the boy.<br><br>He pulled out his mobile, dialed, and grunted sharply in Japanese, "Get back to the fucking door".
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sho</strong> on <strong>11-03-2009, 19:28:37</strong>
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				Masato closed his eyes for a moment, only opening them when the two burly doorguards came and walked towards him, asking him for a light. "Piss off," He mumbled. Pretty quickly, a heavy hand pushed into his shoulder, knocking him back into the door. "I said piss off! Go away!" The ash dropped off the end of his cigarette and landed by his feet. The pushing escalated quickly enough and he was drunk enough that he knocked into the wall and slipped down, landing on his butt with his knees bent, cigarette falling into a puddle. <br><br>One of the guards kicked at his bag, knocking it into another, deeper puddle, before walking off. "Damn." Masato mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he stood up. At least his clothes weren't ruined. Just a bit dusty. He wiped them off, then picked up his bag. <br><br>The leather was soaked through, muddy. Thousands of dollars worth of leather, ruined. Cursing, he kicked the bag farther away, abandoning it. At least he had his cellhpone and wallet, still. He reached into his bag, fishing out a carton of crumpled cigarettes, getting the one unbroken one then tossing the pack back into the bag. He let it sit there, giving up on it. He'd pack a new bag when he got home. <br><br>He needed matches, though. Feeling in his pockets, he looked around, finally stopping a host from another bar. The man let him borrow the lighter, and he handed it back, breathing in.<br><br>He looked up at the windows above him - tinted, he couldn't see into them - unaware that he was looking almost directly up at Karl Simmons. <br><br>He looked young, the faint grey light showing that he had probably lied about his age on the application to be a host, that he probably wasn't actually the twenty three he said that he was. <br><br>It started to rain, and he looked up, shoulders falling, sighing once again. He looked rather gloomy, clearly exhausted, leaning back against a wall underneath a ledge and waiting for the rain to stop. He couldn't walk to the train station quite yet, and had half an hour to kill before he could even head home. His train hadn't started up yet, so he was stuck under the awning, toffee-colored hair falling softly in front of his eyes as he let out a slow, leisurely breath of smoke. He curiously peered back up at the windows, wondering who worked up there. Maybe it was a bar. He could use a bottle of water and a new pack of matches.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urialen</strong> on <strong>11-03-2009, 19:53:53</strong>
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				He winced as he saw the boy fall. That ape Yuri, he didn't need this kind of trouble.<br><br>He gave a signal to the suited man. "Finish this." The snap this time was much much louder. He watched dispassionately as his guard dragged the body out of his office. It would be kept in the freezer until about 3.00am, then it would simply be, gone. No longer a problem.<br><br>He needed to relax. He should call for some company. Maybe ask for young Daiki. He was only just 18, but knew his way around a man.<br><br>Simmons looked back out of the window to see the boy back on his feet, smoking again. God he looked pretty. At that very moment, the boy looked up, right at him. Ridiculous, he couldn't see in here, but it made his heart beat faster. <br><br>A thought occurred to him. He glanced around His office was empty. He took his phone and called to the bar and told one of the girls to go outside, and ask the boy if he was OK, and did he need anything. It was the least he could do for him. Plus, you never know how things will pan out.<br><br>"Oh", he said into his phone. "Send Yuri up will you".
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sho</strong> on <strong>11-03-2009, 22:20:11</strong>
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				Masato hadn't expected a girl to come out and check up on him. He had lived here for a few years and while he was a small-town boy at heart, he knew how to take care of himself. He appreciated the attention, and smiled pleasantly at the girl, nodding when she asked if he needed anything. "I'm fine. Just a bit damp. Is...there a bar up there? I could use a bottle of water and a matchbook." He just wanted to dry off until the trains started running...he didn't have work tomorrow, anyways. Though he normally worked seven days a week, every night, he had decided to take tomorrow off to take it easy and give his liver a slight respite. <br><br>He trailed after the girl, following her up into the elevator and into the bar, running a slender hand through his hair and shaking it out a bit. <br><br>He knew most bars in Japan had a vending machine that had cigarettes, and he was glad that his wallet hadn't gotten wet. He would get himself a fresh pack of cigarettes at the bar, and a bottle of vodka. Except, now that he was inside, he figured he would get a vodka and cranberry juice. Something sweet and cold. <br><br>He wondered why the girl had come down to get him. <br><br>Curious, he looked up at the windows that were tinted, casting a faint smile in case someone up there had seen him. A sortof small, calm 'thank you'. He let out another breath of smoke then tossed the cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out. He was just about as tall as the girl was, not even five foot five. And he was built small, frame delicate. His eyes were startlingly dark, like ink, but that was hidden under pale green contacts that his clients seemed quite fond of. <br><br>He wiped his feet off before he entered the bar, looking around, hands in his pockets to just size it up for a moment.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urialen</strong> on <strong>12-03-2009, 15:20:09</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Still standing at the window he watched and breathed deeply as the boy ran his hand through his hair. He could feel a stirring in his belly. Good, he was coming in as he'd hoped for. Once again the boy looked up at him making him feel slightly uncomfortable at the apparent intrusion through the heavily tinted windows, but thankful for the chance to see a full view of his face. He felt a slight pang of loss as the boy disappeared into the doors below.<br><br>He sat down, lit a cigarette and waited. He spotted a little blood on the chair opposite, took a tissue from his drawer and cleaned it up. He smiled, looked around to see if there were anymore signs of the beating that had just taken place. Nothing. Good. The boy was shaken up as it was.<br><br>He switched the monitor on, and scanned the bar for the boy. Where was he? Had he left? No, there he was still at there at the door. He watched as he looked around the bar. His slender neck craning, hair moving slowly, his wide eye searching. His mood changed as he saw Yuri follow behind. With a click he turned the screen off, and waited for his doorman.<br><br>Again he picked his phone up and told the girl to wait 5 minutes and the escort the boy to his office. "And be reassuring, OK. Give him a drink, whatever he wants". That wouldn't be good if he was scared.<br><br>There was a knock at the door. <br><br>"In", he shouted.<br><br>Yuri lumbered in, a big dumb look on his face. "Yes boss", he said, confused. <br><br>"Sit," Simmons ordered. "Wait".<br><br>Simmons, pretending to read a sheet of paper on his desk, just to make the fool sweat a bit. He knew he shouldn't be doing this to Yuri, it was his job to be an asshole. It gave the club a reputation, and kept trouble away. No, he had upset the boy, this boy who had enraptured him so completely with just a glance. Why hadn't he noticed him before like this? He'd seen him a few times. The only thing he knew for sure, was that he needed to meet this boy, and a man in his position was most certainly not going to hire him.<br><br>He glanced up at Yuri, who really was beginning to sweat. Send him away, he thought. No, this mans fate, the fate of this dumb animal, this fool who had pushed his siren into a dirty puddle, was in now in the hands of another. His fate was a gift to the one he had wronged.<br><br>He sat and waited for Miu, (he smiled at the thought of Miu, she was a sweet girl, charmingly clumsy and eager to please. Maybe in another life), to bring the boy. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: You Do What You Can...[[closed, Urialen and Sho]]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sho</strong> on <strong>12-03-2009, 20:21:12</strong>
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				Masato watched the people around the bar, blinking slowly. Taking in everything around him and deciding whether or not he would stay for a while. He was pleased to take the cigarette that was offered, accepting the offer of a light from a real cigarette lighter. He really should get one of those for himself. He shook his hair out, letting some water drip off the ends of the longer back. Enough to give his clients a good grip, though he hated when girls pawed at him and tugged at his hair in their efforts to get him to pay extra attention to them. <br><br>He ordered himself a cranberry juice and vodka, ice clinking against the side of the glass, cubes tapping at the side as he swirled it around. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, willing to just sit back and watch rather than toss himself into the socialization at the bar. <br><br>He finally took a slow sip and nodded. <br><br>The flavor exploded along his tongue, bitterly cold and strong from the vodka, but delicious. It was sweet, as well. He licked his lips, transferring the faintest touch of fruit and sugar to them, the liquid making his lips a bit more red than they usually were. <br><br>A young woman approached him, asking him politely to follow her. Nothing seemed off about it so he trailed after her. It didn't seem to be a sexual offer, which relieved him. She was just doing her job but was friendly and had a nice smile on her face that made him perfectly willing to follow. <br><br>He kept his eyes on her back as he followed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand for just a moment, letting out a soft sigh. He had been awake for an extremely long time, and was still a little bit drunk. <br><br>The girl walked to a door, knocking on it, waiting for a response of some sort. Masato idly wondered why he was being led back into a private room, taking in a small sip of the liquid in his hands. Good. Sweet, cold, searing on his tongue. Delicious.<br><br>He slipped one hand into his pocket, looking up at the door. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his skin was a bit paler than it maybe should have been. He didn't look unhealthy, just rather tired, pants a bit muddy at the cuffs where he had slipped, one shoulder of his jacket a bit dirty from where he had been pushed against the wall.
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