Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)
<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: Rydia on 07-12-2006, 22:25:00</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>07-12-2006, 22:25:00</strong>
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				A game of supernatural seduction and corruption, starring Silkcat and myself.<br><br>The Cast:<br><br>Catherine - a young executive, human.<br>Iris - an old vampire, inhuman.<br>And an assembled group of extras.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>07-12-2006, 22:25:55</strong>
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				&lt;SILKCAT'S OPENING POST&gt;<br><br>The orbiter thumped and whirred beneath her feet.&nbsp; The spin of the exercise machine was automatic to her, her mind intent on other things.&nbsp; Of the bank of TVs hanging from the ceiling before the big windows, only one was on, displaying non-stop financial feeds.&nbsp; Beyond the TV was the darkness and lights of the New York streets.&nbsp; No one else was in the firm's exercise room.&nbsp; On a Friday night, with the markets closed for a long weekend, why would they be?&nbsp; Many of the top fund managers were in the firm's prime seats at Yankee Stadium.&nbsp; Catherine had a seat offered to her, but she had passed it on to Matt, one of the sharp young analysts on the team.&nbsp; He had deserved it for the insightful and loyal work he had done for her - and he cared about baseball.&nbsp; Now Catherine was just wrapping up her workout, waiting to see what she expected to happen based on Matt's research and her own insight.<br><br>Catherine was a driven woman, who did nothing half-heartedly.&nbsp; When she had chosen to study finance, she did so at the best school and achieved a perfect 4.0.&nbsp; When she went into fund management, she did so by pushing the edges and using the best data and analysis possible.&nbsp; Her team had a high bar to meet, and they all benefited from the success of their fund.&nbsp; Her late father, a Marine, had instilled in her that a strong mind required a strong body, and she held to that.&nbsp; Yet she did each thing with distinct goals and limits.&nbsp; Her workout had a prescribed amount of time it could take from her hours, balanced between swimming, cardio machines, weights and yoga.&nbsp; She had strayed too far into performance, and disliked both the amount of time it had taken her and the curves it had taken off her body - so she had reset her goals.<br><br>These demands had made it hard for her to keep relationships.&nbsp; Men had to be very intelligent and physically fit to keep her attention.&nbsp; A coworker and former lover once remarked to his friends that he didn't know what was harder about being with Catherine - keeping up with her in the workplace, in the gym, or in bed.&nbsp; He had been the last, and that was over two years ago.&nbsp; Catherine had decided she wouldn't settle for a lesser man just to have male companionship.&nbsp; Better to stay with self-pleasure.&nbsp; At 32, it seemed harder and harder to find men her age that could keep up with her.<br><br>Catherine reversed the orbiter, pedaling backwards to shift the burden to different muscles as she reached back and straightened the band on her ponytail.&nbsp; She was a natural dirty blond, but found that too many people associated that with weakness and flightiness.&nbsp; She had chosen to become a more coppery redhead, a color that seemed to match her approach to life.&nbsp; Never one to like things in low quality, she regularly visited a salon which layered colors into her hair to keep the variation of shades seen in natural hair color and keep her roots from showing.&nbsp; Her desire for quality wasn't merely one of expense, though many of her things were expensive.&nbsp; The sports bra, running pants, and running shoes that she wore were each carefully chosen to fit her and her activity exactly.&nbsp; She saw no need to spare money (which she had in plenty now anyway) on exercise clothing that would not help to keep her body in the best shape possible.&nbsp; The clothes that awaited her in the changing room were fitted, tailored, and matched for the best effect possible.&nbsp; She knew well enough that while the canyons of Wall Street lived and breathed on data and dollars, to be successful you also had to have people look at you and be impressed.<br><br>On the TV monitor, a scrawl appeared for a California high-tech firm.&nbsp; Just as she had expected, they were announcing a lowering expectation for quarterly profits due to delays in production of their new product and higher costs of materials in their AsiaPac suppliers.&nbsp; Overseas markets would begin trading them down, but Wall Street wouldn't react until Tuesday morning's market open.&nbsp; She had already taken a short position on them, however, and would reap the benefits of their drop.&nbsp; Some people disliked shorts, disliked betting against a company.&nbsp; Catherine could be ruthless - it was just another weapon in her arsenal for making money.<br><br>She stepped off the orbiter and wiped her face.&nbsp; A bit of weights and a shower and she would head home.&nbsp; She had no idea that there was someone watching her, following her, intently measuring her.&nbsp; But she would find out soon enough.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>07-12-2006, 22:48:01</strong>
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				&lt;Two weeks earlier&gt;<br><br>Four hundred years was a long time to wait, even for someone that would live, God willing, until the end of the world.&nbsp; &nbsp;But it was understood that such things were like the membership rosters of country clubs; the books were only open to new members when an old member resigned or died.&nbsp; And since her fellows were as immortal as she, their deaths and retirements came very seldomly indeed.&nbsp; But it was their party; their music she had to dance to, and so Iris bided her time with inhuman patience waited for her moment in the sun, as it were.<br><br>"Money flows up, shit flows down," she'd been told once, by a brash young daredevil that had fought the system, and lost.&nbsp; It was only right that the oldest and most cunning played the songs that she and the other young ones danced to; though Iris had long since ceased thinking of herself as young, no matter the face she wore.&nbsp; She'd built her empire quietly and conservatively, never taking the chance on the risky move that could result in a big payoff or a disastrous crash depending on the whims of fortune, and slow and sure as the tortoise, she'd come to the attention of important people, who decided to give the Nordic woman a larger herd to tend.&nbsp; And such a herd!<br><br>New York was nothing like London, nothing like Paris or even Reykjavík.&nbsp; Scratch back a few centuries of history, and you found empty land and the Lenape in their little coastal villages.&nbsp; The newness, unfettered by millenia of tradition and architecture piled on the back of countless previous generations, refreshed her where she had felt herself beginning to stagnate.&nbsp; At the close of the 20th century, Iris had become a creature of the age, as technically savvy as any new high-schooler, to the astonishment of elders that still had trouble grasping the concept of a telephone call.<br><br>The move from London to New York had been smooth, besides getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road.&nbsp; That had been the easy part.&nbsp; The more difficult challenges lie ahead; the seeds of her empire were out there, glittering like rough diamonds on a beach.&nbsp; It would be up to her to gather them together, and polish them to a bright shine.&nbsp; Of the powers and privileges she'd accepted, none was more seldom bestowed, or so carefully monitored, as the ability to create a new member of the line.&nbsp; A childe of her own, a vassal to pay her tribute.&nbsp; It was a step up long in coming.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>07-12-2006, 23:00:58</strong>
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				&lt;NOW&gt;<br><br>Iris Olafsdottir folded the pocketknife and handed placed it back in her purse.&nbsp; The beautiful silver BMW sat on four slashed tires, alone in the pools of light and shadow in the executive parking garage.&nbsp; Vandals were everywhere, it would really ruin someone's day when they saw what had been done to their beloved chariot.&nbsp; And such a dilligent soul for it to have happened to; the only car in the lot besides Iris' own; some dutiful soul working long into the night, burning the midnight oil, etcetera.&nbsp; Just the kind of drive and initiative she'd come to expect from Catherine on the night of a big deal.<br><br>In her own age, she'd been a giantess.&nbsp; Now, she was merely on the taller side of average.&nbsp; Her skin had the bone-white hue of an albino, and her face and body were both pleasing without being exceptionally so, but it was her hair that had once been her pride and joy.&nbsp; A red so deep it reminded one of fresh blood, centuries away from the light of the sun had darkened it to crimson, pure crimson most did not believe to be natural.&nbsp; She'd only ever seen that colour before but once, on the head of an Genovese captain plying the merchant waters.&nbsp; Don Colombo had tugged her girlish braids, and said something in a tongue she did not learn for centuries, and had laughed good-naturedly at his own jest.&nbsp; That night she wore it loose and free about her supple shoulders, where it spilled like a splash of blood against the cream-coloured blouse this side of opaque she wore with a neckerchief of egg-shell blue.<br><br>Her eyes were blue, blue of the sky, blue of winter, blue of the sea, and sky, sea, and winter were in her blood.&nbsp; Eyes like hers had brought Europe to its knees, and chanced the creation of the prayer:&nbsp; A furore Normannorum libera nos Domine!&nbsp; But now those eyes danced in fickle laughter at the tiny mischief she'd done to fascilitate a "chance" meeting with Catherine.&nbsp; Her long skirts swirled around her as she walked across the parking lot without fear, towards the elevator leading into the corporate tower above.&nbsp; The gym was on the seventeenth, as she recalled.&nbsp; Iris rode to the eighteenth, but did not get off as the doors opened.&nbsp; After a few seconds, they closed again, leaving her in the motionless elevator.&nbsp; She adjusted the portfolio beneath her arm, and simply waited, motionless as any statue.<br><br>Catherine would be a while yet, lifting heavy things and putting them down again, and when the elevator sprang into motion, they would ride down together, and discover the "vandalism" done to her car together.&nbsp; From there, it should all fall into place.<br><br>Iris smiled, showing the exquisite razor edge of fangs, and waited with the patience of aeons.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 04:37:23</strong>
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				Catherine emerged from the locker room once again dressed the part of the businesswoman, the role that she had made her own, that she owned with every part of her ambition.&nbsp; Black heels clicked on the tile briefly before making softer thuds on the carpet - shoes carefully shaped to Catherine's feet, with a rise of only an inch and a half as she liked them.&nbsp; Charcoal grey trousers were tailored to fit her lean legs and end with narrow cuffs, close to her body without being so tight as to over emphasize her hips and bottom or to restrict her movement.&nbsp; Slash pockets in the sides were almost invisible while keeping the very necessary, incredibly slender cellphone.&nbsp; Her blouse was a crisp white, chosen to contrast with her bright hair as well as evoke the traditional financial uniform.&nbsp; It was fitted closely, again without giving overmuch attention to her bustline.&nbsp; Over this was a light, open jacket in grey, lined in black silk.&nbsp; A small black leather purse over one shoulder was in contrast to the attache-case cum laptop bag slung over the other.<br><br>Tonight she had simple plans.&nbsp; A return to her well-appointed apartment high in the New York skyline, where she could open that bottle of Bordeaux she had been saving and scratch up a bit of thinly sliced steak to go with it.&nbsp; She could savor the tastes already.&nbsp; Then perhaps some time simply reclining and reading.&nbsp; Her mind was already moving out of her business mode and into relaxation.<br><br>She pressed the button for the elevator, and stepped in almost before realizing there was someone else there.&nbsp; Someone rather unusual looking for this place and time...
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 14:33:28</strong>
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				The next few instants were crucial to establish trust between the two women.&nbsp; Iris could not allow Catherine to realize that this meeting was anythign but accidental, or send the other woman into a high degree of wariness beyond that typical of single city women, and that meant a series of facial expressions as carefully rehersed as any performance on Broadway.&nbsp; First, the Nordic vampire's eyes widened, in an expression of concerned surprise that the elevator hadn't stopped at the garage, that someone else was in the building so later at night.&nbsp; Then, after a half-second in which she could be seen to realize that the stranger was another woman, and much less of a threat to a lady alone than a man would have been, a bit of a relieved smile turned her pink lips.&nbsp; Finally, where a normal person might have realized that their entire emotional display was evident on their face, she allowed herself a nervous little laugh; as if to say, "Hey, we got throught that scary moment together."<br><br>Instant comraderie.<br><br>"I'm sorry," Iris said, stepping to one side to make room for Catherine on her right.&nbsp; Her voice was unmistakably European, the faintest touch of an accent rolling the "R" sounds.&nbsp; "I didn't realize anyone else would be here so late on a Friday.&nbsp; Do you work here?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 15:04:39</strong>
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				All these nonverbal signals passed in a split second, but they were exactly right in their effect. Catherine might be a extremely data-oriented person, but she was also good at reading people.&nbsp; It had been nonverbal clues in a meeting that had led her to the expectation that her target firm was not confident about its numbers - the research had merely substantiated that thought.&nbsp; But Catherine was no match for a master of such cues with hundreds of years of experience in manipulating them.<br><br>Catherine had come up short as she crossed the threshhold of the elevator car, but her face relaxed to a businesslike but open image as she took in the reaction of the other woman.&nbsp; She stepped the rest of the way, glanced quickly at the elevator controls to take into that the other passenger was also heading for the garage, and then paused to look over the other woman.<br><br>As she did so, she extended one hand in a business-like handshake.&nbsp; "Yes, I was following some late-breaking news myself.&nbsp; Catherine Iverson."&nbsp; Her tone was confident, sure, if a bit neutral and cool.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 15:49:51</strong>
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				A handshake instead of a kiss.&nbsp; How professional, how distant, how American.&nbsp; Iris took Catherine's hand in hers, but leaned forward and placed her lips on the business woman's cheek in a Eurpoean fashion, lips feathery soft but hands inexplicably cold.&nbsp; Catherine's nose filled for a moment with the scent of her perfume; jasmine and ambergris, a scent she'd comissioned entirely for her own use, unlike anything else in the world.&nbsp; "Iris Olafsdottir," she said when she'd pulled back from Catherine's cheek, mindful to put a little space between them, after coming in for the kiss.<br><br>"I hope you at least have something to show for your time," Iris continued as the elevator continued its descent.&nbsp; "I was waiting for an hour for my appointment, but he never came."&nbsp; She reached forward to press the garage button again, as if it would make the car descend faster, and tossed her blood-red tresses back over her shoulders.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 16:38:00</strong>
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				Catherine flinched slightly as Iris entered her personal space, but she intellectually realized the more continental greeting and willed herself not to move.&nbsp; She tried to reply in kind, instead making a small air-kiss slightly off timing.&nbsp; The perfume was exotic, and Catherine's mind immediately raced to place it.&nbsp; She had not put on any perfume of her own after the workout, and smelled faintly of sandalwood and light citrus notes from her soap and shampoo.<br><br>"A pleasure to meet you." Her mind paced through the departments on the higher floors, simultaneously trying to guess where this woman might work from her attire and demeanor.&nbsp; "Missed appointments are a terrible waste of time indeed.&nbsp; Are you in public relations?"<br><br>She found herself admiring Iris's beautiful hair, her eyes lingering on the falling tresses, darker and seemingly more compelling than her own chosen shade.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 17:36:51</strong>
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				"Hardly," Iris said, showing Catherine the front page of her portfolio, where a prospectus from a large-cap mutual fund met her gaze, the margins written in notes in some foreign language.&nbsp; Catherine might well have noticed, in that quick glance she was alloted, that the publisher of the financial sheet was the Morgan group, from the 18th floor.&nbsp; A financial firm that vied with Catherine's own as being among the most competitive in the hedge fund market.&nbsp; "Rivals under the Roof," rand the headline in the <em>Financial Times</em> when the Morgan group lost their lease on the 34th street address and moved further uptown.<br><br>"I'm in the country for less than five hours, right," Iris was saying, her accent more pronounced the faster she spoke.&nbsp; Her casual dress was suddenly easier to understand; she was a vistor to the offices as a client, rather than as a professional.&nbsp; Few finance professionals, after all, went about in bright gypsy skirts and blouses open almost to the bust-line.&nbsp; "And I want to sign the agreement papers and cut the check so I can spend next week in Washington.&nbsp; And Carlyle is:&nbsp; 'yeah, fine fine, just come in Friday night at seven-thirty and we can take care of you.' so I come and they're locked up tighter than the crown jewels.&nbsp; He just now calls me; stuck on the Jersey turnpike, be there soon as I can.&nbsp; So I'm thinking he forgot our appointment or got called to visit his mistress.&nbsp; Either way, I don't like having my time wasted, so I'm gone."<br><br>The doors opened, and Iris stepped out into the garage, turning with a lifting swirl of her skirts to look at Catherine.&nbsp; The plain, soft-soled shoes she wore did not even make much of a tap on the concrete floor, much less the lonely echo most often heard afterhours in garages.&nbsp; "Six hours out of Reykjavík to wait in an office?&nbsp; I don't think so."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 18:40:15</strong>
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				Catherine took it all in quickly.&nbsp; There was a reason that businesspeople referred to the short-sweet teaser of a sales pitch an "elevator".&nbsp; The classic example was finding oneself in an elevator with a C-level exec and having only as long to make your pitch as the ride up took.&nbsp; But only now Catherine realized that she had an opportunity to make an elevator pitch, and the ride was over.<br><br>"I'd hate to think that your visit was wasted.&nbsp; I am actually a manager for a fund with a very similar profile and target as Carlyle's.&nbsp; In fact, I think you'll find that while his 10 year numbers are better, mine are superior over the three years that I've been the manger for the fund, and we are better positioned for the future as well.&nbsp; His fund is too tied to staid industries in US and EU, with only a few positions in the developing world so he can fulfill that checkbox.&nbsp; My team has carefully chosen opportunities in the developing world that are often backed by stable first-world companies that have great promise for returns over the next decade."<br><br>The words came easily to her, spoken with confidence.&nbsp; She stepped forward to close the distance to Iris reflexively, not wanting there to be a feeling of increased distance as she spoke, returning them to the face to face they had in the elevator.&nbsp; It was closer that Catherine would have naturally struck, but she intuitively felt she had to keep the woman's attention and focus.&nbsp; Her body instinctively conveyed her upright, strong, confident posture.&nbsp; Her hands gestured naturally as she spoke, opening up the jacket and showing her long lean figure.&nbsp; The laptop bag pulled her back slightly, causing her to compensate by pushing her modest but firm chest out slightly, showing well defined collarbones above the top-most buttons of her blouse.&nbsp; Her complexion was somewhat pale and smooth, not nearly so white as Iris' skin, indicating that the exercise that kept her body so trim obviously did not involve much time in the sun.<br><br>"If you have a few moments, Ms. Olafsdottir, I would be glad to open my office up for you to show you more data and get a prospectus.&nbsp; While I understand you might not want to make a decision immediately, you would at least have the material to peruse on the rest of your trip."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 19:16:00</strong>
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				Yes, that was a plum Iris had thought Catherine would snap at like a trained pup.&nbsp; The opportunity to woo a client away from the competitors, as well as the prospect of bringing another high-end investor into the fold in one swoop was too good of an opportunity for the abitious younge executive to pass up.&nbsp; But that didn't mean that she would make things easy for the woman, oh no.&nbsp; Standing half-turned away from Catherine, as if she was torn between two temptations; the prospect of going to the long-awaited meeting to dispose of her financial interests, and the allure of freedom represented by her car.&nbsp; In the end, she turned back to Catherine, and smiled, all lips and teeth, without bringing the slightest bit of warmth to her eyes.<br><br>"Iris, please.&nbsp; We use the given name even to be formal in Iceland.&nbsp; Tell you what, Catherine, I'm very tired and hungry.&nbsp; I give you ten minutes to get your things and meet me at Leslie's," she said, naming an upscale restaurant that had opened last month on Park North, one that was also at least fifteen minutes away from the corporate tower.&nbsp; "We have dinner together and you can try to sell me on your firm."<br><br>Iris looked down, and for the merest fraction of a second, it seemed that the European woman was openly gazing at her chest, tight against her blouse, something she might have expected from a member of the old-boys club, but surely not a fellow woman of busienss.&nbsp; But she brought her hand up, and consulted the face of her Longines wristwatch.&nbsp; "Leslie's, ten minutes," she repeated, as if Catherine's compliance was assumed as a matter of course.&nbsp; And when she found out that her car had been disabled. . .oh that would be such <em>fun</em>. . .
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				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 19:39:55</strong>
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				For a split second as Iris's gaze paused on her blouse Catherine had the terrible thought that something was amiss.&nbsp; That she had forgotten to close a button and was exposing her bra (which didn't feel drafty though), or a button had popped off making and open gap (which would be unforgivable given the price she had paid for the blouse), or that perhaps her body had still been too warm from the shower when she got dressed, leaving a visible spot of damp that made the blouse translucent or otherwise imperfect.&nbsp; She was tempted to glance down and make sure, but forced herself not to.&nbsp; There was the more important matter of the appointment and the time.<br><br>Catherine processed it all quickly.&nbsp; She never shied away from driving her car fast and hard, but New York City streets often didn't give much leeway, particularly on a Friday night, and she was not about to leave room to be late and have Ms. Olafsdottir ... Iris ... be disappointed twice by American fund managers.&nbsp; The best way to not be late was to never allow a gap to be created.<br><br>"If you would allow me, Iris, I would be glad to drive you there myself and return you to your car afterwards.&nbsp; I would hate to subject you to New York traffic on a Friday night after all you've been through today."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 20:17:33</strong>
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				That was an unexpectedly quick recovery, and Irish silently applauded Catherine's quick-thinking.&nbsp; She must really want to woo her not to let her get out of sight, and that left Iris in the position of insisting on seperate cars for no true good reason, or moving off the script she'd prepared for the evening.&nbsp; It took the vampire but a moment to sort out the scenarios, and decided that it could still work to her advantage.&nbsp; "All right, if you're comfortable working without your notes.&nbsp; I need to get out of here, I've been in airplanes and offices all day.&nbsp; We'll take my car."<br><br>An electronic key started the motor of a Continental GT parked behind a pillar, its throaty purr like that of a jungle beast, rumbling against the garage walls.&nbsp; Its color, of course, was a matte black, glossy and oily beneath the glare of halon lights.&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>08-12-2006, 22:12:54</strong>
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				Catherine smiled, politely on the outside and more triumphantly inside her own mind.&nbsp; The chance to stick it to her rival for what might well be a prime customer was delicious.&nbsp; At worst, she'd expense-account a high class meal with Iris and find that either she couldn't close the deal or that the deal wasn't profitable.&nbsp; It wasn't like Catherine had any big plans for the night that hadn't already gone her way.&nbsp; Catherine was inwardly glad that she generally preferred to dress professionally anytime she was at the office - it would never have worked if she had entered that elevator wearing dirty sweats as some of her colleagues might.<br><br>"I'm sure we'll be fine, I should be able to answer any questions you might have, or provide them from my laptop." She patted the heavier bag.&nbsp; "Thank you for the offer of the ride."<br><br>As soon as Iris turned her eyes away, Catherine quickly checked out the front of her blouse to make sure everything was in order.&nbsp; Otherwise she strode confidently to the passenger side of the car, her heels clicking on the polished concrete.&nbsp; When Iris wasn't looking, Catherine gave a good look over the woman, trying to get a feel for her background by the way she moved and the way she was dressed.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 13:43:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Bentley had a comfortably close interiorl built along the lines of a sports car with a narrow stoage compartment behind the two seats, it eased out of the garage, handling like a well trained horse to the signals of its driver.&nbsp; Interestingly enough, the driver's seat was on the right, in English style, leading Catherine to believe it had been imported from the UK.<br><br>Iris turned the radio on, and an operatic soprano filled the coupe with Italian arias as they drove, making conversation unlikely.&nbsp; It gave Catherine a chance to study the other woman, however.&nbsp; Her method of dress suggested intellectual elite rather than working professional; too casual, too feminine, too colorful to be a member of the business class.&nbsp; Had she always had money?&nbsp; There was the Bentley and the designer wristwatch, comissioned perfume and casual references to senior partners in Midtown brokerage firms.&nbsp; It seemed to suggest that the answer was yes.&nbsp; Part of the old guard aristocracy, perhaps?&nbsp; Did Iceland even have an aristocracy such as England or France did, pitiful and often broke remnants long since surpassed by merchant princes and robber barons.&nbsp; Well, it would be an easy enough thing to run a basic credit check on her with the possession of a little information once they got down to brass tacks in the restaurant.<br><br>Iris drove fifteen miles over the posted speed limit, and seemed to regard traffic signals as something that happened to other people.&nbsp; It was practically impossible to get a moving citation in Manhattan without running over a schoolchild, but even so there was a difference between devil-may-care and recklessness, and it seemed that Iris fell on the further side of that line.&nbsp; Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of Leslie's,&nbsp; &nbsp;a hundred dollar bill going into the hand of the teenaged valet.&nbsp; "Keep it in front for me, Kevin," Iris said.<br><br>The valet frowned.&nbsp; "I'm not supposed to do that, Iris."&nbsp; Iris, eh?&nbsp; It seemed that she was known here.<br><br>"I'm sure you can.&nbsp; Tell your boss it's good for business to see a nice car parked in front, yes?&nbsp; Keep it out front, there's a boy."<br><br>"Yes, 'm," Kevin said.<br><br>"And if he tries to tow it?"<br><br>"I'll say it's yours."<br><br>"Thanks, Kevin.&nbsp; Come on, Catherine."&nbsp; Iris kept the key.&nbsp; A tip to the valet was one thing to have his promise, it was another thing to give a nineteen year old the key to a sixty thousand euro car to let him Tokyo drag in a garage somewhere.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 21:32:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine spent the moments of the drive between analytical observing and emotional concern over the progress of the car through the streets.&nbsp; She had ridden with more than one aggressive driver, usually men with more money and ego than sense and a flashy car that might be labeled to a midlife crisis.&nbsp; But the casual, confident, unblinking style of Iris's driving was quite a surprise.&nbsp; Her self-control would have made her concern well masked to all but the most observant of people, and yet she could not have guessed the depth and mastery of people-reading that hundreds of years of practice might have bestowed to Iris.&nbsp; To such a person the subtle rise of color in the cheeks (particularly since Catherine had not reapplied any makeup after her shower) and her posture in the elegant bucket seat would have spoken volumes.<br><br>Catherine exited the Bentley with some grace despite pulling along the laptop bag, and reassured herself that nothing was amiss in her outfit with a quick glance.&nbsp; She straightened her blouse as a small nervous, perfectionist motion, as her posture rose and demeanor took on a friendly, confident aspect as she put the excitement of the ride behind her.&nbsp; She waited for Iris and followed the more colorful woman's lead into the establishment.&nbsp; There were so many questions that Catherine couldn't ask, or would only be able to carefully intuit perhaps from others.&nbsp; She had only been to Leslie's a few times, and knew that it catered to those with discriminating tastes and plush accounts.&nbsp; Where and how Iris was seated would probably tell her more.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 22:35:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The gifts of unlife were many, and in some respects unique to each person made into a vampire.&nbsp; Iris had developed her talents over the centuries of study, and, among other talents, had the ability to make people who had never met her before fall over themselves to please her.&nbsp; It was something best used sparingly, but it did very well in situations like these, gaining access to posh Chelsea restaurants.&nbsp; The maitre'd took one look at Iris, looked at her eyes, and it was too late to do anything but offer the pair of women the one table he had open for the next twenty minutes, to the consternation and muttered resentment of two members of the Mayor's staff, the broadway agent and his newest starlet girlfriend, and the columnist of the Times who were all waiting in the bar.<br><br>Iris knew enough about Leslie's that the maitre'd station led in a narrow hallway with mirror on one side into the elegantly lit dining room.&nbsp; She hugged the wall, putting Catherine between herself and the mirrors, lest a chance glance bring questions Iris would prefer not to answer at this juncture.&nbsp; In the dining room, the crystal chandelier sending soft rainbows of light across the marbled white-on-black tiles on the floor.&nbsp; A harpist and a cello quartet filled the dining room with tasteful music.&nbsp; <br><br>Like a little girl, Iris tugged at her hair and gave a bright smile as the maitre'd pulled out her chair as she sat.&nbsp; The two women had a table in the centre of the room, while elegantly dressed couples and parties looked their way.&nbsp; Iris was the sort of woman that turned heads, but she was even more lovely when she smiled, and the light laughter pushed her over the edge into breathtaking.&nbsp; She was looking at Catherine with those pale winter eyes as they sat, her mood evidently much improved to be away from the office.&nbsp; "Do you know they have that exact chandelier in a museum in the Louvre?&nbsp; It was one of Napolean's trearues he took from Bavaria when he went on his first campaign in 1805."&nbsp; Definately a liberal arts major, or else witha&nbsp; keen interest in history.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 22:56:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine was amazed that Iris could get a table at such short notice, strolling in practically without breaking stride.&nbsp; Who was this woman who could command such immediate service?&nbsp; While she certainly might be well known to tip the maitre'd generously, such things often seemed they simply could not be done.&nbsp; Catherine kept her eyes either ahead or upon Iris during the direct opening to the table, so she was unaware of even the presence of the mirror.<br><br>Catherine was used to giving presentations before rooms of high-powered businesspeople, but sitting in the center of the room with such a striking woman that drew the eyes of what were some of the more well-do people in a city known for wealth... it gave her an unaccustomed pause.&nbsp; A corner table in a less-lit area would have been more like her expectation for dealings - something that reinforced to her that Iris was more likely from old wealth.&nbsp; This was certainly no table that Catherine could simply set out her laptop upon, and while she could recite returns and ratios from memory effortlessly the lack of fallback was another factor against her comfort.&nbsp; Catherine took her own seat, unaccustomed to being treated like a lady in the classic sense - more one of the boys in her outlook perhaps.&nbsp; The laptop bag she attempted to discretely set by her chair, and she looked up at Iris just in time to hear the comment and meet those eyes.<br><br>And for a split second she was speechless, like the prey of a dancing cobra or a schoolgirl catching the eye of a movie star crush.&nbsp; Those eyes, the hair, the complexion - the combination with the direct and powerful yet light-hearted gaze.&nbsp; Her heart gave a sudden unexpected thump.&nbsp; She almost immediately regained herself, but the momentary image was seared into her mind, as a more logical part of her processed the words that Iris had spoken.&nbsp; Iris could feel that Catherine's will and composure was strong, but instantly felt the chink in the mental armor, small as it might be.<br><br>"I.... No, I didn't know that.&nbsp; I've never been much of a historical buff. How interesting."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 23:24:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Iris nodded.&nbsp; "France's treasure is the plunder of a dozen nations."&nbsp; She looked around, tilting her head.&nbsp; "You know, I actually haven't been here for about five years.&nbsp; It was a different restaurant back then.&nbsp; What was it?"&nbsp; She answered her own question.&nbsp; "Nabokov, that's right.&nbsp; Dan Keaton took me to dinner to try to get me to back one of his plays.&nbsp; Poor, silly man."&nbsp; This was actually ait of a slip on Iris' part.&nbsp; She looked all of twenty-three years old, five years ago, she would have been barely legal.&nbsp; She wanted to see if Catherine would call her out on it, or humor her as the client.<br><br>Just then, the waiter arrived, dapper in a crisp white shirt and black bowtie.&nbsp; He brought with him a basket of bread, two menus, and the wine list, which, after a moment's consideration, he placed before Catherine.&nbsp; "Ladies," he said.&nbsp; "Welcome to Leslie's.&nbsp; My name is Gregory.&nbsp; We have a couple of specials tonight; the peppercrab soup served with a spinach souffle, covered in caramalized almonds.&nbsp; We also have a rack of lamb with mint leaves, marinated in the chef's brine.&nbsp; May I offer you an appertif, perhaps something from our wine list?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>09-12-2006, 23:42:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's mind swirled, returning to its comfortable world of analytics.&nbsp; She has such recognition from the staff, but hasn't been here since it last changed names?&nbsp; She was involved in business deals five years ago?&nbsp; Or had she come into her wealth on her age of majority and Keaton tried to take advantage of her?&nbsp; Iris looked decidedly younger than her own 32.&nbsp; Cosmetic surgery, perhaps... but even still, to look so young.<br><br>The waiter provided a reasonable interruption and cover.&nbsp; Catherine picked up the wine list and with a short glance, handed it over the table to Iris.&nbsp; "Please, Ms. Olafsdottir, if you would be so kind, I'm sure your tastes are more refined than my own."&nbsp; An over deferral, as Catherine was quite well versed in wine with a discriminating taste, but it allowed an opening.&nbsp; As she handed the wine list over, Catherine's eyes darted to Iris's fingers, to the usual telltale wrinkles about the joints that would give away age despite botox and facelifts.<br><br>Catherine smiled at Gregory but paused, allowing Iris to take the lead.&nbsp; Poor fellow, he had made the best guess given their appearances, but if he had seen Catherine trail Iris in and see the maitre'd assist the other he could have avoided his misstep.&nbsp; Catherine was used to making such instant analysis - it made her both a demanding boss and a great mentor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>10-12-2006, 00:04:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Iris, please," she said, but absently, as if she was used to correcting Americans to use her first name, in the Icelandic fashion.&nbsp; She perused the wine list, and suggested the 2000 Château Lafite Rothschild Merlot.&nbsp; "But we'll have to order red meat to accompany a wine with such a strong body."&nbsp; At that statement, Gregory enthusiasitacally nodded.<br><br>"Quite so, madame."<br><br>Pullling her wine-red hair back over her shoulders, Iris rested her smooth, girlish hands on top of the portfolio she'd brought in from the car.&nbsp; "Let me tell you what I'm looking for at this juncture.&nbsp; I'm moving my assets from Iceland and the UK to America.&nbsp; I intend to have a wire from the First Bank of Reykjavík to open my brokerage account with twenty million euros to start, which I want immediately rolled over into a high-yield portfolio.&nbsp; There's a certain criterion I'm looking for in the investments."&nbsp; She handed the portfolio over.&nbsp; A page near the top, the first document in English, actually, had a list of mutual funds and publically traded companies.&nbsp; They were all well known, completely above board places to rest money and wait for a return in investment.<br><br>But the further details were enough to raise concerns.&nbsp; The SEC was notoriously nervous about large overseas transfers, especially in the post 9-11 world, and the accounts the money would draw from were numbered, anonymous accounts, like a Swiss bank system.&nbsp; It would most likely draw at least a cursory investigation without a certain amount of massaging.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>10-12-2006, 00:33:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's mind might be intrigued about Iris's age and background, but the data and criteria listed in the portfolio pushed that aside for now.&nbsp; Had Carlyle bailed on Iris because he feared moving this much money from such sources?&nbsp; Catherine had been creative about moving funds before, and indeed the superior returns from some grey-market areas had propelled her out of being a team contributor and into a fund management position.&nbsp; But she also knew that some of the greatest opportunities lay outside of such well examined funds as she currently managed, and in private wealth management - but clientèle could take so long to build many didn't really strike it big until they were in their fifties.<br><br>There was clearly danger here, and she realized that she had to consider the possibility of a sting.&nbsp; But surely any investigative body would not use so... unique... a profile as Iris was cutting here.&nbsp; Catherine lifted her eyes from the portfolio to Gregory.<br><br>"Then lets have a goat cheese appetizer to compliment the wine as we wait and decide on the main dish, if you would Gregory."&nbsp; Her eyes dismissed Gregory and turned back to Iris, her confident tone returned and some steel in her eyes.&nbsp; She looked into those enigmatic Nordic orbs, and as soon as Gregory has stepped away, decided to make her gambit.<br><br>"Unfortunately, moving such sums from such sources into my firm's holdings would require involvement of the internal audit team, and might trigger reporting requirements recently put in place after recent unfortunate financial missteps here in the United States combined with the current concerns about terrorism."&nbsp; She paused for a moment both to judge Iris's comprehension and expectation - was it possible she was so young and naive that she was unaware of such risks?<br><br>"However, a careful, skilled, and creative person with the appropriate contacts and experience might be able to move such funds through less ... mature ... exchanges in Europe and perhaps Hong Kong, before challenging them into US funds through multiple paths."&nbsp; Here was Catherine's Rubicon.&nbsp; Once she stepped farther than mere mention of this, she started to transgress the spirit if not the letter of various obligations to her company, professional licensing, and even the law.&nbsp; It was a grey zone that many of her colleagues trod, with either great success or terrible consequences.&nbsp; For the last few years Catherine had observed such moves and only toed that line, keeping her nose clean, but this seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.&nbsp; The fee expected from such manipulations on a total of twenty million euro would be a single-digit multiple of her annual salary, but where it might go from there was the real opportunity.&nbsp; And besides, there was something about Iris...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>10-12-2006, 00:51:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Really?&nbsp; Carlyle told me that this would have to be cleared with his legal department, at the very least.&nbsp; He didn't mention being able to use the Hong Kong banks to expedite things."&nbsp; Gregory returned, and permitted Iris to examine the label on the wine bottle before he opened it, to which the woman nodded as took his corkscrew to the cork and poured two glasses.&nbsp; She no more touched her wine than she did the cooling bread in front of them.<br><br>"Steak tartare, with onions, capers, and an egg, please," she ordered.&nbsp; She had not so much as looked at the menu.<br><br>"Tartare, madame?&nbsp; That is not something we . . .," Iris turned her blue stare to the waiter, who blinked as if suddenly remembering a fact that he had forgotten.&nbsp; "And an egg.&nbsp; Of course.&nbsp; And for you, madame?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>10-12-2006, 13:54:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There were certainly restaurants where menus were merely suggestions, and Catherine decided to continue with that theme, though a safe choice.<br><br>"Porterhouse, medium, with black pepper and bourbon finish.&nbsp; Squash and potatoes."<br><br>As soon as Gregory steps away, Catherine continues.&nbsp; "Carlyle is a very intelligent man, but not very creative."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>10-12-2006, 17:18:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As if the two women had shared a good secret, Iris smiled and leaned close to Catherine across the narrow table, once more sending whifs of her light, floral scent to the other woman, even above the deep smell of the wine.&nbsp; "I think I understand, Catherine.&nbsp; I'm very anxious to begin this before the start of the new year; shareholders meetings are drawn from the rosters of members at the start of the quarter.&nbsp; If there's a way to expedite this; maybe I could pay a larger fee to your firm."<br><br>It had been a few minutes; the wine had most likely had a chance to breathe a bit.&nbsp; Iris took up the delicate stem of her glass, and turned the crystal in her hands, letting the wine swirl up towards the rim, and studied the thick feet that trailed back towards the base.&nbsp; Good wine; it ought to have been at two hundred a bottle.&nbsp; Catherine was showing that necessary level of ethical flexibility; she was pleased with everything she had seen thus far.&nbsp; "Aan eeuwige het leven."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>11-12-2006, 14:38:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine hoped was wasn't embarrassingly misreading the foreign tongue, and raised her own glass of wine.&nbsp; "To a new year of good fortune, then".&nbsp; She swirled her own glass, showing some familiarity with the rituals of wine as she inhaled to judge its nose and took a measured sip.<br><br>"I must say that it could be quite possible to take positions in some of those firms at just lower than the 5% ownership stake that must be disclosed and thus provide some influence without drawing attention that could lead to checks on the origin of the sudden stake.&nbsp; I also happen to be aware of a few IPOs that will be happening in the spring, which provide a great short-term potential by flipping the shares or long-term control and return - though with greater risk.&nbsp; It depends on your goals."<br><br>She paused for a moment.&nbsp; "It actually might also be wise if these movements are done independent of my employer.&nbsp; I have done some private work separately from them, which allows a certain flexibility and individual attention."&nbsp; It also allowed Catherine to pocket the entirety of the fee, something which allowed her to recently trade up and purchase her new condo high in an exclusive New York building despite having only a few clients to her name.&nbsp; The majority of her income still came from the firm, but someone like Iris could turn that around.&nbsp; This wasn't illegal, but was technically against company policy, even if commonly flaunted by those at the top levels of achievement.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>15-12-2006, 14:46:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"And it would mean you didn't have to share me with your firm," Iris said, letting Catherine know in no uncertain terms that she was no fool, an saw in which direction she was being wound.&nbsp; In her persona as a rich young European aristocrat, someone might have thought that she could be taken advantage of, and Iris wanted to nip that in the bud.&nbsp; It might make her angry, to see Catherine or anyone else for that matter, try to take advantage of her.<br><br>She took a sip of the wine as she feigned considering the offer.&nbsp; The keys to Catherine's loyalty appeared to be very simple; money and power, both of which she possessed in abundence.&nbsp; She was willing to risk her employment for the chance at a fortune working for her. Would she go further?&nbsp; Iris was almost certain that she would.<br><br>"I do not believe in. . what's the word in English?&nbsp; Coincidence.&nbsp; I don't believe in it.&nbsp; I believe everything happens for a reason.&nbsp; You and I met in the elevator because we were meant to, maybe.&nbsp; Maybe I'd be better off going with you.&nbsp; I'd like to try it."&nbsp; From the back of her portfolio, Iris took a cashier's check drawn from an English branch of an American bank, for an amount in dollars that would have bought the building they were in several times over.&nbsp; Taking an old-fashioned fountain pen, she wrote Catherine's name in the "Pay To" field, and signed her own name at the bottom in a narrow, spidery hand.&nbsp; "I have a contract from the Morgan group.&nbsp; It will be fine, I think, to cross their name out and put yours in instead?&nbsp; Or do you have a blank contract in your computer we could run off."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>15-12-2006, 18:59:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine smiled as Iris commented on the proposal.&nbsp; She decided there was risk and reward on both sides for either choice, but the rapport that seemed to be building was a good indicator of a working relationship that could be quite a win-win.&nbsp; Iris could tell by Catherine's reaction that she wasn't taking Iris for a fool, but she did consider herself in full control - even when seeking a client her tones might be of offering and asking, but her demeanor keep her more a peer and less a servant.<br><br>Catherine used Iris's pause over the wine to take a sip of her own, for the moment having lost track of the fact that they were at a table in the middle of a packed restaurant.&nbsp; While Catherine was generally a focused woman, it seemed that discourse with Iris focused the world down even tighter.&nbsp; What was away from this table was, for the moment, irrelevant.&nbsp; Now was about this deal, this set of possibilities, and these two women.<br><br>Catherine's confidence rose with Iris's comments on coincidence.&nbsp; She was more a believer in creating the opportunities for luck, but no matter.&nbsp; "I believe that we'll find that the terms in the Morgan contract may be over-restrictive for the more dynamic set of services that I'd like to offer you.&nbsp; I have some skeleton forms on my laptop that might prove a good starting point.&nbsp; Perhaps after dinner we could print them out for finalization.&nbsp; But first I'd like to learn as much as you will allow me about your financial goals - what you want to see happen and over what timeframe.&nbsp; Then we can agree on measures by which I can deliver what you need."<br><br>Catherine exuded quiet confidence as she raised her glass for another sip.&nbsp; What a thrilling night this had been so far.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>15-12-2006, 20:18:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Smiling so sweetly, it was all Iris could do to keep from bursting into laughter again.&nbsp; It had been so long since a human had been able to surprise her, as Catherine had, that the novelty of it delighted her.&nbsp; Yes, this one was a prize.&nbsp; Hungry like a shark, getting her to lock in a deal as soon as they'd finished their bloody feast.&nbsp; It was all too wonderful.&nbsp; "That is fine, yes.&nbsp; But there is one thing I must make you understand before we proceed.&nbsp; I'm not interested in fighting your firm for your time.&nbsp; If you are going to work for me, I'm going to want access to your time on a regular basis.&nbsp; I will not compromise our arrangement by asking for a week-day meeting, but I want to meet with you every Friday night to discuss my portfolio's performance over the week and fine tune it as necessary."<br><br>Just then, the food arrived.&nbsp; The steak Gregory laid before Catherine was brown on the outside, pink on the inside, steaming and savory with the scent of its juices.&nbsp; The smell alone was almost enough to make one overlook what he then placed before Iris.&nbsp; A piece of meat no less equisite than her own, but red; not just pink, but red, as in raw, uncooked, cold.&nbsp; Diced onions and capers surrounded it in a halo of green and white, and atop the meat like a crown was a single, uncooked egg.&nbsp; Whiping her napkin across her lap, Iris took up the steaknife and cut the tiniest sliver of the meat, the blood leaking to stain the white plate.&nbsp; She ate with evident relish, and nodded her approval to Gregory.<br><br>"What I want to do is establish my presence in the American financial market over the next two quarters.&nbsp; I'm interested in investing in older, established firms that have established their reliability for long term growth; your GEs, your Chase Manhattans, your telecommunications firms.&nbsp; I'm less interested in newer groups, or tech companies; no more than ten percent investment in such groups."&nbsp; Her lips were red from the meat she'd eaten, and her eyes more freakishly, startlingly blue as she met Catherine's gaze, and it seemed as if those eyes were deep enough to fall into, enveloping Catherine in a wrap that was both colder than winter, and hot as heart's blood.&nbsp; "When you next reach for your wine glass, you will drink from mine without realizing it," she said in a voice that reached into Catherine's&nbsp; mind without being heard by her ears at all, a voice that compelled obedience.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>15-12-2006, 20:50:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine found herself curious but distasteful of Iris's choice in food, but she tried to intellectually write it off as a foreign custom she wasn't familiar with.&nbsp; Certainly you wouldn't want to order such a thing at any lesser restaurant.&nbsp; Then her mind bent to following Iris's financial desires.&nbsp; She ate her own food as she went, but if before her focus had been limited to the table, it seemed that now she came to focus just on Iris's face.&nbsp; Red hair falling around pale cheeks, bright blue eyes above red-stained lips.&nbsp; On some level below Catherine's consciousness her image of Iris seemed to resolve down to two concepts: vitality and power - and she was beautiful.<br><br>Catherine nodded as Iris spoke, and reached out as she swallowed a piece of steak, somehow her hand straying across the table and grasping Iris's wine glass and sipping from it...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>16-12-2006, 18:26:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Blood.&nbsp; Nowhere in all her time in the world had Iris found a more potent drug, a more powerful tool, or a more elegant means of seduction.&nbsp; Humans had robbed and stolen, pimped their children, murdered for their drugs, their crack and meth and heroin - drugs that paled in comparison to the power of the rich red liquid running through Iris' veins with the beating of her undead heart.&nbsp; And now Catherine had her first taste - when she'd sipped her wine, a bite to her own tongue had let Iris replace what she'd drunk from the glass.&nbsp; The powerful bouquet of the wine should overpower the coppery taste of what she'd given Catherine; but not the effects, which, while unpredictable, almost certainly included sudden feelings of euphoria.<br><br>Iris almost felt sorry for what Catherine would next endure, for when that joy wore off, she would be left with a Hunger.&nbsp; Not nearly so painful as Iris' own, of course, merely a pale shadow of the never-ending bloodlust that filled her, but one that would be quite painful.&nbsp; Soon, Catherine would learn what it was she needed, and the only place she could get it.&nbsp; <br><br>It made her smile as a fancy of this proud, powerful woman, safetly leashed and compliant, begging her for her favors.&nbsp; "How is your steak?" she asked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>16-12-2006, 21:34:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine put the wine glass back down at Iris's place, lost for a moment as the rich wine began to slide into her veins.&nbsp; All the while, her eyes seemed focused on Iris's.<br><br>"Mmm.&nbsp; Quite good.&nbsp; This wine is even better.&nbsp; I though it was good when I first tasted it, but as it gets some air and complements the steak it is amazing."&nbsp; Those eyes, that face.&nbsp; Catherine suddenly felt that she'd held that eye contact a bit longer than was appropriate for dinner conversation with two women who just recently met.&nbsp; It suddenly felt a bit too intimate.&nbsp; She dropped her eyes a bit, feeling a bit of a flush in her cheeks, and then found that she was staring at Iris's bust line.&nbsp; She blushed a bit deeper at that, feeling a warmth in her that seemed both from the wine and something a bit deeper and more sensual.<br><br>"Yes, I'll have to tell Gregory to pass my compliments to the chef."&nbsp; She voice had, for a briefest moment, a tremble in its characteristic confidence, but then Catherine was quiet, and covered her distraction by taking another bite of food, keeping her eyes down on her place for a second before finding herself looking back up at Iris.&nbsp; Mentally she forced some composure across her face with a concealed deep breath, and tried to resume the conversation at the level she felt strongest and most confident in.<br><br>"I'm sure that each of those goals are ones we can accomplish.&nbsp; The advantage of the major firms is that blocks of shares can usually be found in play in the quantities needed."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>16-12-2006, 22:23:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Very good," Iris said, her voice softer, as if it were a candlelit affair, rather than a business meeting.&nbsp; She didn't seem at all preturbed that Catherine was looking at her more intimately than might have been appropriate; on the contrary, one snow-white finger twined around her hair playfully, and there was a smile with the faintest hint of teeth.&nbsp; She let the moment of silence linger for a moment, observing the blush on Catherine's cheeks, the swell of blood beneath the skin and the heat of her breath, drinking in the sight of the other woman's obvious excitement.&nbsp; <br><br>"Please understand, I'm not opposed to an element of risk with a start-up or IPO.&nbsp; I'm sure a woman in your position is placed to hear all manner of interesting rumors about the next big thing; but I do wish to excersize caution."&nbsp; Another sliver of red, dripping meat was speared, and eaten in slow relish.&nbsp; "Tell me about yourself, Catherine.&nbsp; What does it take to make it on Wall Street these days?"&nbsp; These days; as if a woman as young as Iris appeared to be would know how it would ever have been.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 18:08:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's confidence returned as she forced control over herself, though the unusually potent wine was still a distracting factor.&nbsp; Surely that was the cause of the blush she felt, the wayward thoughts, the gentle arousal that still seemed to be slowly building inside of her.&nbsp; She never really had had problems with holding her drink - a trait she developed in college and had found useful in business dealings with macho men ever since - though perhaps she hadn't indulged in such for some time.&nbsp; That must be it.<br><br>But this was a question she often fielded in polite cocktail conversation with non-industry types, so her usual response came easily.&nbsp; "Nowadays people like to compare it to poker, what with everyone in the past few years becoming No-Limit Texas Hold'em fans, which isn't a bad place to start.&nbsp; It is a game of limited information, strong statistical and analytical tools, big money moves, and picking up nonverbal information from the other players.&nbsp; But Wall Street can have even more variables of time to payoff - like you're playing with a deck which can add and drop cards and even whole suits, sometimes unexpectedly."&nbsp; Catherine cautiously took a sip of her wine.&nbsp; "Perhaps the game is played at a faster pace than it once was, with more players at the same table, but the general rules (or lack of rules) is probably much as it was in the days of Dow and Jones."<br><br>Catherine met Iris's eyes with a mixture of confidence and defensive caution, like she had raised a think mask of control over her demeanor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 18:38:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The analogy to poker was, surprisingly, one that Iris did not catch.&nbsp; Her smile remained in place, and her attention focused on Catherine, but behind that pretty mask she wore, her mind wondered what the hell this was all about.&nbsp; She understood it had something to do with a game of chance. . .deck, cards, perhaps something like Faro.&nbsp; It didn't matter, she decided.&nbsp; Enough to get the gist, as Americans said.&nbsp; Still, it was a sting to the elder, who prided herself on being so in tune with the modern world.&nbsp; She made a note to ask one of her associates about No Limit Texas Hold Them (even in thought, Iris had no proficiency with American slang).<br><br>She nodded, and then, surprisingly, turned the conversation on a dime.&nbsp; "Do you know the real reason people hate New York?&nbsp; It isn't the prices or the crime, the pollution or the urban decay.&nbsp; It's because the real power that moves the world isn't made in Washington or London or Paris, not anymore.&nbsp; It's made here, right here, on Wall Street and Park Avenue, and it drives them mad.&nbsp; Especially in the Old World.&nbsp; Power is the greatest aphrodisiac, and money the quickest route to power; and they don't have any unless they get it here."&nbsp; She gave a predatory smile.&nbsp; "And I'm glad to have the opportunity.&nbsp; I'm through looking in from the outside; it's my turn in the sun, as it were."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 19:29:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine laughed in agreement - not a girlish giggle but a confident laugh.&nbsp; "Those high in the world of finance have an influence on Washington and the other political centers that sometimes can be blatant or exposed, but is more pervasive and subtle than many think.&nbsp; It's a world where each major player has a billion dollars of their own and a trillion of other people's money in harness."&nbsp; Her voice took on a harder edge.&nbsp; "That's where the poker metaphor breaks, and some people who think in such simple terms just don't get it.&nbsp; At the top, that power allows one to change the rules of the game - to make your three queens a winning hand over a full house wielded by lesser monies."&nbsp; Catherine had another bite, pausing for a moment, her voice becoming a bit more biting.&nbsp; "It's a game that you can't even sit down at the table unless you're an old man with your best years behind you."&nbsp; She almost added a comment about those with inherited wealth come unearned, but she caught herself.&nbsp; The last sentence was already more of a slip than she liked, and she quickly tried to cover it.<br><br>"Tell me, is that why you decided to move funds to New York from your home?&nbsp; To seek this American center of power?&nbsp; There is so much more than that here in this city, too."&nbsp; Catherine runs her eyes over Iris quickly, feeling her heart skip a beat again.&nbsp; "There is a wonderful arts scene, and fashion - a client of mine is in a small showing of Spring collections tomorrow night, for instance.&nbsp; You'd be welcome to come."<br><br>Her mind raced.&nbsp; Damn this wine, whatever happened to her tolerance?&nbsp; She sounded almost like she was asking Iris on a date, and besides she'd already said she had travel plans.&nbsp; The warmth in her cheeks and along her neck was still there despite trying to settle her heart, and as she shifted slightly in her seat and straightened her torso she could feel the slide of her blouse over aroused nipples.&nbsp; She could only hope they weren't visible, that her open jacket would be covering them, and she didn't dare glance down to see.&nbsp; How embarrassing if they were.&nbsp; Worse still she could feel warmth deeper down.&nbsp; She hadn't reacted like this to a man since she was a college girl, and had never had this kind of reaction to a woman.&nbsp; She'd fooled around once with another girl in college - who hadn't, but it hadn't been as satisfying as men.&nbsp; Had her tastes changed?&nbsp; Men hadn't really been able to satisfy her for years either.&nbsp; She took another bit of food.&nbsp; She had to stop thinking about such things, think of business, think of dollars, whatever you do don't think about sex.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 19:56:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's unexpected bitterness made Iris raise an eyebrow the merest fraction of an inch.&nbsp; She reminded her of herself, of thoughts she'd had but dared never share, over the years at how closely the prizes had been divied up among the Ancients.&nbsp; As a young vampire, Iris had not even had the freedom to anything of her own; she was expected to work her fingers to bones, bringing in money and favors and power, so that those elders could feather their nests and play at their intruiges, with the punishment for failure and duplicity ever hanging over her head.&nbsp; Some rebelled, some went mad, some simply failed.&nbsp; It had amazed her how few people truly had the stamina for immortality; to realize that one had to put in one's time, and centuries that was, to get the merest fraction for one's self.&nbsp; But the rewards were there, and one had forever, and so Iris had never once given voice to such thoughts, even when she was at her lowest.<br><br>"I'm finally free to come to the US to live.&nbsp; For the last few years, I was not able to do so.&nbsp; I was. . ." Was what?&nbsp; Too young, while true, did not convey properly what she wanted Catherine to think.&nbsp; "The easiest way to say this is that my husband, Tomas, left his affairs very out of sorts when he died.&nbsp; He had a fine company from his family, but phhhht! He did his best to run it into the ground."&nbsp; Husband, yes, close enough.&nbsp; What a fool he had been, the one who had brought her over.&nbsp; He'd made Iris his childe for no better reason than the color of her hair.&nbsp; Unique, but it did not guarantee that she had not been a dullard or a fool.&nbsp; Fortunately, she'd had the cunning to keep Tomas' disaster from inheriting to hers, even if it had left her with little more than two leaky fishing boats in Iceland when she'd started out.<br><br>Iris put her napkin down alongside her plate; the meat half-eaten, and the onions all but untouched.&nbsp; She could not take in too much solid food, even as bloody rich fare as the raw flesh; it was but a poor substitute for the bloodlust, but it would tide her until she could satisfy herself.&nbsp; She'd not touch Catherine, no, not yet, not until Catherine had been drawn in tighter to her web to get out once she realized the nature of her new "patron," but one could almost always find willing donors if one was discreet enough.<br><br>"I was going to spend tomorrow in Georgetown.&nbsp; I have business in Washignton this coming week.&nbsp; But I think. . .yes. . .there will be enough time for shopping later in the week.&nbsp; I would be pleased to go to the showing with you."&nbsp; She finished her wine, and smiled, the animal blood bringing a flush of color to her cheeks, as delicately pink as the inside of a seashell.&nbsp; "It's a date," she said, as if she had read Catherine's mind.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 22:20:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Wonderful", Catherine replied.&nbsp; Part of her had wished that Iris wouldn't be able to attend, but more of her was excited at the concept.&nbsp; When Isabella had offered her two seats for the showing, Catherine had accepted more out of politeness than anything.&nbsp; Isabella's fashions tended to be more daring than Catherine wore, with even the businesslike pieces being a bit too tight-fitted for the boardroom or negotiating table.&nbsp; Not that Catherine hadn't used her attractiveness to throw men off their game, but mostly when she was younger - lately she had avoided the tactic for fear of developing a reputation that might be a limitation in the long term.&nbsp; Was that a bit more color in Iris's cheeks?&nbsp; Perhaps the wine was having a similar effect on her.&nbsp; That thought only made things worse for Catherine.&nbsp; She took a drink of her ice water, not wanting to risk any more wine.&nbsp; Part of her wanted to excuse herself to the lady's room and try to compose herself.&nbsp; A naughtier part thought she could do something else in its relative privacy.&nbsp; But her business sense overruled them both.&nbsp; Her soon-to-be-client was clearly done with her meal, and the excitement and thrill of the opportunity mingled with more base thrills and thoughts.&nbsp; Catherine set her napkin down as well.<br><br>"Would you care for dessert, or would you rather be on about our business?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 22:54:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				That was precisely the question that Gregory asked, for he arrived with impeccable timing to clear away the finished plates and silverware, and carry away the empty wine bottle.&nbsp; Iris shook her head at the offer of desert, but did ask for a cup of coffee, which arrived with bone china service.&nbsp; She held it between her hands, only sipping at it.&nbsp; It was too much for her to take, along with the mortal food she'd had, but all the same, she could hold it, smell it, feel the warmth through her hands that were only little more than icy for the meat she'd consumed.&nbsp; She moved her chair closer to Catherine, close enough for the perfume to compete with the scent of good, rich coffee for prominence.&nbsp; <br><br>She hadn't planned on seeing Catherine socially, at least for a week, to give the blood a chance to do its work and the first pangs of withdrawl to set in, when a well-timed phone call could bring Catherine coming to her for the relief she wouldn't even know how to find on her own.&nbsp; But Iris was pleased that it had already begun to affect her, to manifest as a desire to see her again, for her presence and companionship.&nbsp; She'd feed it for now, and see how things progressed.<br><br>A few minor negotiations regarding the finer points of the obligations followed as they went over the forms Catherine had on her laptop.&nbsp; Iris was at least as fluent in legalese as she was in English, and needed almost nothing of the contract explained to her.&nbsp; "I am satisfied, I think.&nbsp; We can stop at a Kinkos or something and print up a copy, or I can give you an e-signature.&nbsp; Excuse me, a call of nature."&nbsp; So close to success that she could almost taste it, and then the laughing sprite danced away into the back of the restaurant, turning more than one head as she went.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 23:16:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine let out a long breath, and then took a good drink of coffee, in the vain hope it would offset what she still clung to as being the effect of the wine.&nbsp; While she could concentrate on the legal terms of the contract her mind was focused and she could force the whims of her body into control.&nbsp; She was used to subordinating little things like hunger, exhaustion, frustrations, a bit of tipsiness, even the need to visit the lady's room - all to not break the moment or flow needed to complete a deal.&nbsp; But she never had to control her own arousal, this warm lightness.<br><br>But it would all be worth it.&nbsp; Iris could be her ticket to greater things.&nbsp; She had the feeling that this $20 million might only be the tip of the iceberg.&nbsp; She definitely would have to do some research on this woman once she had time.&nbsp; Tonight, she thought, tonight I'll celebrate this win when I get home, and let myself indulge in this strange alcohol-fueled horniness.&nbsp; She hadn't gotten out that unusually shaped vibrator she had bought in Tokyo for a while.&nbsp; She hadn't had a really good orgasm for a while - hadn't felt the need for it.&nbsp; She had marked that up to being so busy at work, to too much stress and not enough interesting potential partners.&nbsp; Maybe something in the wine was interacting strangely with her pill dosage - she hadn't had to have it tweaked for some time, maybe as she got older her hormones were interacting differently with alcohol.&nbsp; Yes, that must be it.&nbsp; Her logical mind won out, providing an excellent reason for this strange experience.&nbsp; She straightened her blouse, smoothed her jacket, satisfied that she had dismissed this and that she wasn't being obvious and embarrassing herself.<br><br>Just get a printout made at a local late-night shop, of which there were plenty in such an area, get everything signed, bit a polite goodnight to Iris and worry later about how to handle things for tomorrow night's show.&nbsp; Her plan was firmly in mind, clear and straight, just as Iris returned.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 23:30:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine looked up in time to catch Iris' return from the ladies room, and appreciate, fully appreciate, from a distance as well as close, how truly gorgerous the woman was, even if now her perceptions were filtered by the poweful substance she'd unwittingly drunk.&nbsp; The white skin was pearly beneath the crystal glow of chandelier and the candelight from the dinner tables, the color of her skirts complementing her paleness and the vivid color of her hair.&nbsp; And, too, there was in her walk an easy, liquid grace; she could stop, instanly, at any point in the walk across the way, perfectly on balance.&nbsp; It was. . . otherworldly, and no wonder it turned heads as it did.&nbsp; But the winter eyes were reserved for Catherine, as was the smile that lit on ruby lips as she returned to her seat.<br><br>Iris, of course, was fully aware of the effect mounting in the poor businesswoman as the night progressed and the blood worked in her.&nbsp; She was not immune to it herself, either, wanting nothing more than to lick her lips when she felt the pulse in Catherine's wrist when their hands went near each other at the screen or monitor, or saw her move her hair back over her shoulders, exposing the elegant line of her neck.&nbsp; But centuries she'd had to perfect her control, and it was even a kind of game for her; how long could she endure Catherine's presence, the call of the blood in her veins, before even showing an outward sign of it.&nbsp; Quite a long while, as it turned out.<br><br>"That is it, I think.&nbsp; We'll work well together, Catherine.&nbsp; And play together well, too."&nbsp; Her smile was innocent, and perhaps it was just a phrase by a non-native speaker that lead to the double entendre, but the interpretation was there, if Catherine wanted to think that way.&nbsp; "I've never been to a New York showing before."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>17-12-2006, 23:44:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's eyes were captured as she watched Iris walk in.&nbsp; Her resolution and businesslike demeanor melted away, her body filled with the warmth she'd tried so hard to control - maybe even stronger for having denied herself it.&nbsp; Her eyes at first captured the wholeness of her walk, her grace, her amazing striking combination of contrasts.&nbsp; Then as she grew closer she found herself falling into those pale blue eyes again, those red red lips.... She almost missed what Iris said, and then when she processed it she felt another blush.&nbsp; Surely she couldn't be suggesting?&nbsp; Oh, but how part of her wanted it to be true.<br><br>"Yes", her voice quavered ever so slightly as she tried to reassert control of herself.&nbsp; "It can be quite a scene.&nbsp; I've only been to a few, myself."&nbsp; She gathered her things, trying to figure out how to handle it.&nbsp; "So, where do you wish to proceed to now?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>18-12-2006, 15:32:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was the matter of the bill, of course.&nbsp; Gregory had been diligent and presented them with their check, and Iris permtited Catherine to pick it up, figuring she'd wish to expense the meal for reimbursement.&nbsp; Iris wondered if she had sufficient leverage to convince her accounting department that a meal at an exclusive Chelsea restaurant was strictly necessary when it didn't land the firm a new client, but she'd let Catherine settle that one.<br><br>When they got back outside, Iris' car was just where they'd left it, with the two valets looking at it admiringly, Kevin talking about the ccs in the engine, horsepower, and displacement, as proudly as if he'd owned the car himself.&nbsp; He was gracious enough to open the doors for the woman when Iris unlocked it, and soon enough, they were behind the counter of an all night print shop.&nbsp; One signature here, a slew of initials here, the disinterested Nigerian clerk serving as a witness, and the deal was closed.&nbsp; <br><br>Of course, the most interesting parts would come later.&nbsp; The wealth Iris had just transfered, even though the speed at which it needed to occur, had been legitimately obtained through her above-board interests in Europe.&nbsp; But the vast majority of her wealth was from far less legal means, large amounts of cash hidden in various safe-deposit boxes.&nbsp; When Iris gave over the first million or so of that and expected Catherine to launder it, her response would be most amusing, depending on how she responded to the chains of blood Iris intended to lay about her in the time since.<br><br>"I think we're finished for tonight.&nbsp; Back to the office?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>18-12-2006, 16:41:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The night had been a roller-coaster for Catherine, emotionally.&nbsp; She gathered herself again as they worked over the papers, though sitting next to Iris in the car was distracting as well.&nbsp; She kept finding herself looking over the other woman's profile as she confidently charged the car through traffic.&nbsp; On this ride, the near-imminent possibility of collision didn't seem as scary - more an extension of the vigorous, vital woman behind the wheel.<br><br>Catherine smiled at Iris over the paperwork as she put away her copy.&nbsp; "Yes, it has been a wonderful and productive night indeed.&nbsp; I'm sure you're tired from your travels as well.&nbsp; If you could give me a lift back to my car, that would be great.&nbsp; Oh, and here's my card, let me write my personal cell phone number here on the back.&nbsp; If you call that number it will bypass people on the staff."&nbsp; It would also trigger a particular ringtone Catherine used for work outside of her firm, so she'd know whether it was worth breaking away from a meeting or other all.<br><br>Catherine handed it over, her eyes again catching on Iris's.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>18-12-2006, 17:07:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It hadn't slipped her mind that the night had one more suprise for Catherine; namely, the vandalism she'd done to her car earilier that now turned otu to have been unecessary, given the smooth way Catherine had risen to the occaision of handling her peculiarities.&nbsp; But it would still serve to bond the two women closer together; Iris could justify driving Catherine home rather than having the lone woman wait alone in the garage for a tow truck.&nbsp; And it would do to see her reaction to the discovery, as well.<br><br>Iris took Catherine's business card, the tips of her fingers in momentary contact with the back of her hand.&nbsp; It wasn't a flirtatious gesture; with her lovers, Iris almost never initiated, prefering instead to see how long it would take someone to come to her, but an innocent touch that could normally have been expected.&nbsp; She opened her cell phone, and dialed, ringing Catherine's phone.&nbsp; "And now you have my number in your caller ID," she said.<br><br>The security guard monitoring the parking lot overnight looked out of his booth as the Bentley approached.&nbsp; Iris had to lean over, her hair falling in a soft crimson pool into Catherine's lap as she made eye contact with the man.&nbsp; He raised the gate without even asking for her name or company, all seemingly done for the bright smile Iris gave him as thanks as she pulled in to the garage.<br><br>"What time should I pick you up?" she asked as she drove into the garage.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>18-12-2006, 20:24:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine made a mental note to pass on to her firm's security that the night watchman was lax.&nbsp; In the middle of the day one give some leeway to just a grand vehicle, but after office hours it seemed unwise.&nbsp; She didn't want to run into just anyone on her way to her car if she was working late (as she often was).<br><br>Catherine's mind jumped again with Iris' question.&nbsp; She had planned to merely meet Iris at the show, though perhaps that would have been problematic as well.&nbsp; "Isabella's line is scheduled for 8pm, though there are other designers starting as early as six and ending at 10pm or so."&nbsp; Just in time for all the fashion mavens and movers to start their parties that would run late into the night.&nbsp; It could be exhausting, but there was so much money represented at such events that Catherine had forced herself to endure them before.&nbsp; "The names get bigger and the lines more cutting edge as the night goes on, I understand."<br><br>Catherine's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her car.&nbsp; She immediately could see something was wrong, the lines just looking a bit wrong when lowered on flat tires.&nbsp; "Son of a bitch!"&nbsp; she exclaimed without thinking, her anger flaring.&nbsp; Her mind started to race as to who would have done this.&nbsp; Some random vandal, or a rival in her own firm, or another...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>26-12-2006, 14:59:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Sacrilege," Iris said, or something close to it.&nbsp; She got out of her car, and pantomimed examining the tires, as if she didn't already know what she'd find.&nbsp; "These have been slashed, not just punctured.&nbsp; You need new tires; they can't just patch these."&nbsp; Nonchalant in the face of Catherine's anger, she was cool and collected, they might have been disussing the weather or the day's forcasts on Wall Street.&nbsp; "Look, where do you live?&nbsp; This time of night, it'll be an hour before they can send a tow truck, and you still have to fight for a cab home.&nbsp; I can drop you off and you can get this taken care of tomorrow, when it's light out and you don't have to wait in a garage."<br><br>Of course, part of the entire troublesome package Catherine had just inherited was the fact, with the substance she'd ingested, she'd taken in something never meant for humans, something that would confer unnatural stirrings within her body.&nbsp; Some of Iris' contemporaries even claimed that their legendary furies and passions passed through the blood into their mortal servants, their Renfields, as they were called.&nbsp; Some, but not all, and it would be interesting to see how she responded to the assault on her car.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>27-12-2006, 16:58:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's eyes were filled with a fire as she paced around her crippled car.&nbsp; Her lips were pressed tightly together, blood raised in her cheeks.&nbsp; She spoke as she circle, voice murmuring low and with a cold fire.&nbsp; "If this is Carlyle's doing, I'll ruin him.&nbsp; I'll steal away his clients one by one or send them to a rival, I'll see his little blond trophy girlfriend used as a toy, I'll make him beg naked before me as he kisses my feet."&nbsp; She pressed her heel into the side of the ruined tire as she said this last, her voice feeling like it was both coming from a distance and at the same time coming straight from her heart.&nbsp; She could see Carlyle's busty little wannabe-model girlfriend naked, bent over and looking up at Catherine as some nameless man took her from behind.&nbsp; She could see Carlyle crouched naked at her feet, kneeling on a polished concrete floor like the parking garage's, kissing the toe of a black leather, stiletto heeled, knee-high boot molded to her leg.<br><br>She blinked and stopped, and looked over to meet Iris's eyes, suddenly realizing that the other woman had been speaking to her.&nbsp; Catherine wasn't sure if she had just said those dark things aloud or merely thought them, and the power of the words and the images startled her and yet felt so compelling.&nbsp; Her mind reached back and processed what Iris had said, even as it felt there was an uncomfortable long pause as she did so.<br><br>Catherine's control rose over her like a mask.&nbsp; Iris could still see the blood in her face though, the forced unclenching of her fists, the strong rise and fall of her chest and the hardened points of her aroused nipples beneath the blouse.&nbsp; But when Catherine spoke again, it was measured and controlled, and word by word she forced her body to unwind.&nbsp; Yet it had a cool heat to it.<br><br>"Yes.&nbsp; That'd be very much appreciated.&nbsp; Clearly the garage is not as well secured as it should be.&nbsp; Thank you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 15:07:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Of course, of course."&nbsp; The old vampire did not offer so much as a hint of whether or not Catherine had said aloud the perverse, domineering thoughts that had crossed her mind.&nbsp; While she was no mind reader; that was a talent even rarer than hen's teeth among her kind, she had been around long enough to give the impression that she was, based on shrewd deductions gathered from body language, tone of voice, and scent.&nbsp; Catherine had followed the trail of the thought that begun with "beg naked before me as he kisses my feet," Iris knew, and she'd likely imagined her rival and his mistress, demeaned and sexually humiliated.&nbsp; It wasn't a thought that wouldn't have occured to her without the intereference of Iris' blood in her veins.&nbsp; But without that, Catherine would not likely have lingered upon the fantasy, it would have been weaker and less vivid, and likely supressed with a shame-filled shudder.&nbsp; But such was the nature of the substance to inflame all passions, and it was both Iris' curse to bear, and Catherine's now, too.<br><br>It did not entirely displease her, this direction.&nbsp; She smiled, and hummed a sweet low song beneath her breath as she drove the Bentley from the garage, not even pausing to speak with the secutiy guard on duty, less Catherine begin to stoke her rage again upon the poor unwitting man.&nbsp; It would not do to let her prodigy lash out without realizing the extent of her newly gained strength, a pale measure of Iris' own.&nbsp; "He lashes out against your car, and does things to it he wouldn't dare to do to you," Iris said as they drove a few blocks.&nbsp; She was more than willing to encourage the belief that Carlyle had caused her inconvenience.&nbsp; "You made an enemy when you stole me away.&nbsp; But you can't go to the police, you know.&nbsp; There's no way to prove he did it, and you would just look weak if you insisted on pressing the matter."&nbsp; Her lips teased into a smile, ruby lips baring white teeth.&nbsp; "But the next time you have a chance, you must crush him without mercy."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 16:18:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine was silent at that thought.&nbsp; She wasn't entirely sure if Iris was playing her straight with the comment about crushing him.&nbsp; Her own little rant had surprised her.&nbsp; Was Iris mocking her lack of self-control?&nbsp; Certainly she was surprised at herself.&nbsp; Her mind grew detached as she trying to analyze herself, and she kept coming back to the wine.&nbsp; Maybe she had gotten a bit dehydrated from the workaround, and the wine just hit her harder than it should.&nbsp; It had been a long week - too much stress.&nbsp; All the excuses and possibilities piled in her mind, and she spoke only to give precise directions for the few turns needed.<br><br>"It's right down here on the left."&nbsp; It was a tall, grand building in a nice if business-like neighborhood, its architecture clearly of new construction but meant to carry elements of an earlier age.&nbsp; A ramp dropped through an automated garage door controlled by swipe-card into a underground parking area.&nbsp; Unlike the business lot, the full door meant that an intruder would have to slip in while a card was entering and exiting, all while under the view of a security camera.&nbsp; A short curving driveway allowed passengers to be dropped off before the entrance guarded by a doorman.&nbsp; In New York, the doorman was an odd position - relatively low in pay, but supplemented by regular tips from the residents, and powerful in controlling access and providing reassurance of security and the feeling of grandeur.&nbsp; Joshua was a handsome, older black man, in his long overcoat, uniform and hat that seemed to hearken from the previous century.&nbsp; Catherine treated him well in terms of respect and tips, though clearly defining their roles.<br><br>"Thanks again."&nbsp; Catherine said, her control now fully re-established and her manner calm.&nbsp; "I apologize for my outburst earlier, I don't know what came over me."&nbsp; Her hand rested lightly on the handle to the door.&nbsp; "Perhaps if we got together at 7pm we could enjoy some hors d'oeuvres before Isabella's show?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 16:53:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Iris parked in the curved driveway before the building.&nbsp; Though the lights of the marquee and lobby made the sidewalk in front of Catherine's building well illuminated, it was dark in the interior of the car, the shadows lying heavily across Iris' face as she turned towards Catherine.&nbsp; Only her eyes seemed well lit, eerily luminescent like angler lights of a hunting fish in the deep.&nbsp; She did not attempt to lay a spell or an influence on her this time; it would be too easy, with the blood fresh and new, to push too far, and ruin the entire point of the enterprise, and so used only what charm she had from her measured voice and force of personality, speaking as softly as if she'd been whispering into Catherine's ear.<br><br>"You are a beautiful woman, intelligent and ruthless as you must be to succeed.&nbsp; Some men cannot tolerate that, and since they cannot match you in the office, strike out at you like children, throwing rocks at your windows or cutting your tires.&nbsp; It is not very Christian, but it is right to treat your business rivals like your sworn clan-foes, and destory them root and branch."<br><br>She turned away, those fierce eyes, and looked at Joshua, his throat and neck beneath the crisp white collar, and gave the slightest, breathy hiss.&nbsp; Iris was feeling her own hunger, echoing and amplified by Catherine's passion.&nbsp; She had to feed, and feed deep, before the night was done, and if she did not get away soon, she would be controlled by her hunger, instead of controlling it.&nbsp; "I will be out front at seven o'clock.&nbsp; Please don't keep me waiting; I hate lobbies."&nbsp; Hated any place where she was likely to be photographed or recorded on security cameras.&nbsp; No more than she could be seen in a mirror, could she be recorded on film, but the distortion she caused was often enough to chance comment or discovery, and that she could not tolerate.&nbsp; Besides, it would do Catherine good now to become accostomed to jumping when Iris said, "Frog."<br><br>"Gott kvöld, Catherine."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 17:46:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine nodded, some deep instinctual part of her knowing she had been dismissed from Iris's presence, and she stepped a long leg out of the car, pulling her bag with her.&nbsp; She bent over to bid Iris a quick "Goodnight then, I'll see you tomorrow night." before closing the door of the beautiful car.<br><br>She straightened and turned, a prepared smile for Joshua.&nbsp; "Good evening Joshua."<br>"Good evening, ma'am", he stepped back and pulled open the door by its brass handle.&nbsp; Long experience let him know that she wasn't up for pleasant conversation, and simply got out of her way.<br><br>The elevator up reminded her of how the night had started, the odd chance of meeting Iris in the first place.&nbsp; She ran a hand through her hair, already relaxing at the familiar surroundings.&nbsp; This was supposed to be a quiet night at home with a bottle of wine and simple food, but it had been something more.<br><br>A soft tone announced the elevator's arrival at the 18th floor, and Catherine strode down the short hall to her apartment.&nbsp; She rarely saw anyone else on her floor, which was how she liked it.&nbsp; Joshua said that of the&nbsp; six apartments on this floor, three were held by the socialite rich as an investment and occasional getaway with a new mistress.&nbsp; She unlocked the door and punched her security code in, flicking the lights on almost automatically.&nbsp; She set the system to immediately route any calls from downstairs or her phone line to voicemail without ringing, feeling a need for quiet and solitude.&nbsp; It was like she had just run a race, her body worn down a bit and yet still invigorated.<br><br>She set down her laptop bag on an elegant glass and steel table, and headed for her liquor cabinet.&nbsp; A port, yes, that's what she felt like.&nbsp; She poured a small glass and took in its aromas and a small sip.&nbsp; Glass in hand, she kicked off her shoes and slowly walked into her bedroom.&nbsp; Another sip, then she set down the glass and slowly began to unbutton her blouse.&nbsp; Had she really thought those things about Carlyle? The thoughts were so crude, so violent, so ... vivid.&nbsp; She tried to put them out of her mind, instead thinking of the deal, the complications it would raise.&nbsp; The blouse was tossed to land in the hamper, shortly followed by the rest of her clothes.&nbsp; She lounged on the bed, sipping at the port.&nbsp; It had been a great night, she had to say, all things together.&nbsp; The opportunities were incredible.&nbsp; She smiled as she thought about what Iris might lead to, the successes she might see.&nbsp; Iris would be the gateway to a new move in her career.<br><br>She absently caressed herself, some need still in her, and one thing soon let to another.&nbsp; She called up her usual fantasies in her mind as she pleasured herself, a tall strong, dark-haired man with athletic build.&nbsp; He knelt between her legs, attendant to her until she pulled him up and threw him over beside her.&nbsp; She pushed him down, straddled him and rode him.&nbsp; It seemed she was stronger than even, even this strong man obedient to her needs.&nbsp; As she started to reach her climax, he rolled her over on her back and suddenly it seemed she was looking into Iris's eyes, just as her orgasm blazed through her.&nbsp; Surprising as it was, it was also warm, and as she rode out the aftershocks her fantasy returned to her imaginary man, and she faded into sleep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 18:44:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				About an hour after she had dropped Catherine off, Iris returned to her own home, wired and satiated.&nbsp; She'd drunk until the bloodlust subsided, and a bit more besides, and in the process rid the world of a young man, alas, that would not be missed.&nbsp; Gone were the days when even the oldest could simply leave the remains of their food lying about, to be discovered by the mortals they lorded over.&nbsp; No, these days a modest investment in chain and cement were required, and Iris couldn't always be bothered, and so let her need go soemtimes longer than she should have.&nbsp; But what she'd taken would last her the better part of the week, and so not a bad investment, all things considered.<br><br>Across the river, in Brooklyn, Iris made her home, in a modest brownstone rowhouse, neighbored on her left by a staff writer for David Letterman, and on her left by the director of an exclusive upstate rehab clinic.&nbsp; It was a quiet, settled neighborhood on Second Avenue, ten minutes from Manhattan and a million miles away from the chaotic stress of city life.&nbsp; She had a fenced backyard, where she sat beneath the stars and breathed the scents of her small garden.&nbsp; The house she owned had been hers for nearly a century, but only inhabited the past year, rented and carefully preserved for her coming.<br><br>Catherine.&nbsp; She said the name aloud, savoring the way it tasted, feeling empathically through the link the blood created between them the satisfied heat the woman dreamed in, the pleasure and teeth-grinding lust that had fed her orgasm.&nbsp; Did Catherine see her face, her brighht hunter's eyes, when she pleasured herself and imagined her lover?&nbsp; How delicious if she did.<br><br>The night passed, and Iris turned her attention to more serious matters.&nbsp; The European banks had begun opening as the night passed, and Iris was on the telephone and computer, wheeling and dealing in Moscow, Stockholm, Cairo, Geneva, and Paris before she turned in.&nbsp; Her bedroom was shuttered against light by a security system that would rival a museum, and the old vampire lay against her feathered mattress in just her camisole, weariness hanging over her as the light grew in the Eastern sky.&nbsp; What did vampires do before telecommunications, Iris wondered.&nbsp; No suspicious meetings by night with enthralled mortal slaves was necessary to maintain one's lifestyle in these wonderful days, only an ethernet cable.&nbsp; It made so many things easier, certainly more than enough to make up for the increased difficulty in feeding.<br><br>Day came, truly, and Iris rested, dreaming of icy seas, and New York covered in snow, and so passed the day away, until night, when she rose, and once again regarded her seduction of Catherine, who even now must be feeling the effects of the blood's initial high receding into a longing unlike any other. . .
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>29-12-2006, 21:28:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's eyes fluttered open to find sunlight pouring in her window, so bright.&nbsp; She groaned and kicked off the sheets.&nbsp; Her mouth felt a bit dry, and there was a light tension in her temples.<br><br>"Damn."<br><br>She rolled off the bed and walked to the large window.&nbsp; She liked the view, but usually she remembered to close the window at night.&nbsp; The nearby buildings were lower than her apartment, giving her the feeling of being slightly over the clouds of rooftops with a park in the near distance and farther out the river.&nbsp; It also meant she could be naked in her bedroom and not feel like anyone was likely to look right in and see here.<br><br>With a slow motion she lowered the blind, returning the room to a softer light.&nbsp; Much better.&nbsp; She must be dehydrated.&nbsp; Why hadn't she be smart enough to drink some water before bed instead of the port?&nbsp; She drank a pint-glass of cool water from the filter built into the fridge.&nbsp; She set up the coffee machine, and wandered back to her bedroom to throw on a light cotton bathrobe.&nbsp; As she woke up, her appetite awoke as well, and soon she was eating through several eggs, some toast, and an orange.&nbsp; What a night, she thought as she bit into a slice of orange, its flesh squirting juice into her mouth. Yes, last night.&nbsp; She picked up the phone and rang off a series of calls as she fired up her laptop.<br><br>The BMW service desk was very responsive, very satisfying - a tow truck to the garage to get her car, with instructions to replace all four tires and deliver it back to her.&nbsp; It'd be at her apartment by noon, with a check of all the usual fluids on its way.&nbsp; That's what she paid them for, after all.&nbsp; The last thing she wanted to do was busy herself with the innards of a car.<br><br>The laptop was up, and some quick keystrokes confirmed that her shorting move was progressing well based on trends from overseas.&nbsp; A few alerts on other stocks and companies had been triggered, but nothing she hadn't already expected or could quickly analyze as being irrelevant to her interests.<br><br>She left a message for Isabella (or rather, her assistant) so she knew that Catherine and Iris would be attending.&nbsp; Hmm.... Iris.&nbsp; By the time they next met Catherine wanted to know more about this mysterious woman.&nbsp; She tapped her fingers idly on the desk, and licked her lips.&nbsp; The breakfast had been fairly filling, but there was just something more she wanted, but couldn't place what it was.&nbsp; Some ham, bacon perhaps, no nothing sounded quite right.&nbsp; Her mind slid over to her envisionings of the night before, lying there in bed.&nbsp; Some need stirring inside of her that perhaps she'd couldn't quite satisfy.<br><br>She stood and paced over into her den, a cozy set of leather armchairs and a low cocktail table.&nbsp; Bookshelves bracketed the room, and a long monochromatic painting stretched from one end to another between them.&nbsp; It had been done by a lover of hers in college.&nbsp; It had five panels, each one a close-up image of a different part of Catherine's body, so artistically rendered that at first glance one might not even recognize them as anything other than abstract curves and forms - the length of her calf to the turn of her ankle, the curve of hip with shadows concealing the join of her legs, her belly viewed from the side, the profile of one breast, the length of her neck and under her back-tilted chin as seen from somewhere on her chest.&nbsp; He had been perhaps her last really satisfying lover.&nbsp; She remembered him, how he seemed to worship her body...<br><br>She let the robe slip off then, and stepped aside and into her shower.&nbsp; She let the hot water stream over her, letting her mind drift again as she scrubbed soap and shampoo across her skin, as she shaved her long legs and a bit more besides.&nbsp; From there it was so easy to lean into the wall and pleasure herself again, eyes half lidded as one hand pinched a taut nipple as she came.&nbsp; And once again it seemed that Iris's eyes were watching her, the feeling that the bright Icelandic face was just beyond the steam-shrouded glass of her shower door.&nbsp; What was it about that woman that made her haunt her thoughts so?<br><br>Wrapped in a towel, her hair in a second one, Catherine sat down at the laptop.&nbsp; She had to know.&nbsp; Financial databases, social registers, raw Google searches, Lexis-Nexis, she had extensive reach from her computer and her firms resources.&nbsp; With the bank and account numbers Iris had supplied, she had even more to guide her.&nbsp; Direct ownership, holding companies, insider trading records.&nbsp; &nbsp;Whatever the electronic world knew about Iris Olafsdottir, Catherine brought her focused mind to bear on finding out...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>30-12-2006, 20:01:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				No matter how subtle the spider, in this day and age it was impossible to avoid leaving lingering traces of one's passing behind, especially when there were others as adept as she at prowling the records and catalogs on the Web.&nbsp; Fortunately for Iris, Catherine soon learned some of the difficulties the more Normanized peoples had in dealing with the Nords.&nbsp; The Icelandic still used the naming system of the patronym, meaning that the children took the father's name, followed by the suffic "son" for the boys and "dottir" for the girls.&nbsp; Meaning that there were only a few&nbsp; hundred names in popular use, and they appeared endlessly, again and again.&nbsp; There were almost six hundred "Iris Olafsdottirs" to be found in a telephone directory for Reykjavik, and many more references pulled in a Google or LexusNexus search.&nbsp; Catherine spent an hour or two tracking down an endless series of false leads, before coming across a more inspired solution.<br><br>Iris had mentioned doing business in the United Kingdom, right?&nbsp; Odds were that her name would be far less common in the English databases, and that was where Catherine had her fist success.&nbsp; The Financial Times of London had an article almost eight years ago about a large, private purchase of stocks in the Makepeace Pharmacutical Company by one Ms. I. Olafsdottir.&nbsp; Nearly four months after the purchase, Makepeace received a government endorsement to develop a line of drugs proven successful in the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis, and stock values increased almost twenty percent within a week.<br><br>That was the beginning of the pattern she found.&nbsp; Throughout England and Paris, Iris had left traces behind of purchase of shares of public companies, which within ten months of her acquisition, had seen success in the form of takeovers, government grants, breakthroughs in research and development, or other forms of good fortune.&nbsp; The dividends on these shares made Iris a millionaire many times over, in whatever currency was in question.&nbsp; A quick bit of addition revealed almost the exact amount that had been turned over to her care the previous evening.&nbsp; But the sheer frequency of times that Iris' stock decisions had lead to windfall exceeded coincidence.&nbsp; That level of success in the international markets could only be explained by skill in investmentnot normally found by people not in the field.<br><br>Or by foreknowledge of the companies' success.<br><br>Nowhere in Catherine's search had she uncovered a single photograph of Iris in the newspaper or magazine archives, even when she was a feature of the article in question.&nbsp; She did find a French language interview from a Parisian radio programme, which had Iris' voice upon it, recognizeable despite the poor audio quality of the programme.&nbsp; <br><br>It took more than a few hours, but Catherine saw some success in tracking down the activities of her new client.&nbsp; It left one with rather more questions than it answered, however.&nbsp; The dates didn't mesh, for starters.&nbsp; The original article from the London Financial Times gave her age as twenty-five, and that eight years ago, and yet she still looked for all the world like a young woman barely out of her teens.&nbsp; And what was the original source of the funds she'd used to make her purchase in Makepeace?<br><br>Before Catherine knew it, the day's light was gone, the western sky burning with the colour of the setting sun, and Iris had begun to stir on sheets as silky soft as her blood red hair.&nbsp; She met the new night with a last glimpse of the fading blue in the sky.&nbsp; She had a million and one things to do before she even thought about getting ready for her night with Catherine, phone calls to make and people to admit for a series of small chats.&nbsp; She had a fire lit while she was at work; though she was no more vulnerable to the chill of the witner air than she was to disease or age, she did not like the cold.&nbsp; The fire felt better, she even imagined it lent her vitality and quickness of thought, the warth radiating through her snowy skin.&nbsp; Once upon a time, all the light she'd had to work with had come from candles and whale-oil lanterns.&nbsp; A full fire behind the grate was a luxury, and she never let herself forget it, even as she squinted over the small text of financial sheets and the scrawled handwriting of her busy little sprites and elves.<br><br>Time passed, and full dark came, and Iris was in Manhattan, where she pulled into the parking lane of Catherine's building ten minutes early, where she lingered, chatting with the handsome Joshua.&nbsp; Through the force of her personality, she made it through the polite deference that the doorman saved for visitors of his tenents, and by seven o'clock, he was as easy and free with Iris as he was with his own <br>neighbor, laughing and making risque jokes to Iris' rising laughter.&nbsp; He held the door for her as she stepped into the lobby, and her fingertips brushed against the wool jacket over his chest.<br><br>At the desk, she gave her name, and Catherine's, and sat down aside the indoor bronze fountain to wait for her companion of the evening.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>03-01-2007, 14:26:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine was never terribly comfortable with how to dress for such occasions.&nbsp; She was used to the crispness of business, the perhaps mannish clothes cut for a feminine form with just enough to distract or beguile with.&nbsp; But wearing something amongst the beautiful people of fashion was always a bit strange.&nbsp; She never had been a "girly-girl", a bit too much one of the guys, too strong and forward.<br><br>Her makeup was simple, a bit to emphasize her eyes, a touch of base, with red-red lipstick to make her lips seem a bit fuller and brightly project along with her hair.&nbsp; Her top was a closely fitted white blouse whose neckline showed her collarbones, but not her cleavage, at least as it was buttoned now.&nbsp; A black half-jacket helped to emphasize her trim waist, while also providing a discrete internal pocket for her always-present cellphone.&nbsp; Her skirt was high-waisted with laced cords in the front giving a bit of a corset look, giving her slender hips more curve and making her legs look even longer than they were.&nbsp; The slit on the left side of the skirt rose to just above the knee - enough to show off her legs without being vulgar.&nbsp; Stiletto heels completed the image.&nbsp; She looked at herself in her long bedroom mirror with a sense of nerves and some dissatisfaction.&nbsp; Something was eating at her and she couldn't quite place it.<br><br>Her long blackcoat on and thin-strapped handbag slung, she headed for the elevator.&nbsp; She wasn't used to not being the one in control.&nbsp; She entered the lobby five minutes ahead of time, expecting to be able to relax and talk with Joshua briefly, but instead Iris was already there and the woman at the desk was just ringing Catherine's apartment.<br><br>"Ah... good evening Iris".&nbsp; Catherine put on her best face, but was a bit off stride mentally.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>24-01-2008, 17:39:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For all that a man would have had to be the rare sort with a will that could challenge a king in his own court to suggest to Iris that she did not belong somewhere, the contrast between the two woman could not have been greater, nor the style that she wore more out of place in the lobby of Catherine's building, than when the two women met.&nbsp; Iris descended on Catherine to repeat the ritual of the night before, cold red lips on her cheek to kiss her greeting, and she stood back, a half-cocked twist to one of her legs, as if she yearned to twirl in place and show off what she wore.<br><br>A pair of patchy, faded jeans were tucked into calf-high black boots, thick and heavy and with a man's broad heel.&nbsp; Her belt had a large silver buckle, the plate featuring raised designs of Norse symbols, hammers and serpents.&nbsp; Her shirt was scarlet, with a white collar and cuffs, folded back on supple forearms and open at the throat, flared to reveal the white lacy undershirt she wore beneath.&nbsp; The justification for this unprofessional and oddly butch demeanor was forthcoming in the sight of a zippered leather-jacket and face obscuring helmet on the pristine white sofa near the copper fountain.<br><br>"Good evening," said Iris, her accent heavy as it was when she wished to give the impression of high spirits and emotions.&nbsp; Her cheeks carried the light pink flush that came when she had fed, and came across as excitement following a spirited motorcycle ride through the cold and windy streets of the city.&nbsp; "Do you know your man Joshua repairs antique Harley Davidsons?&nbsp; He told me that if I was ready to buy a real bike, he show me where they sell the real deals?&nbsp; Have you ever ridden rear before?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>26-01-2008, 20:46:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine found herself off guard, mentally prepared to be in the lobby ahead of Iris, to have brief friendly words with Joshua before she departed.&nbsp; Her mind quickly focused, however, and this time she did remember to give a light kiss in the proper style, her lips warm on Iris' cool cheek.<br><br>Catherine found her eyes caught on Iris' appearance, sweeping her from head to foot and back again.&nbsp; For the moment she was barely conscious that Joshua was there, her heart beating at the sight of Iris again in that unexpected and yet familiar way.&nbsp; What an unexpected change from the long skirts of the previous night, and yet it seemed to match perfectly on some level.&nbsp; And Iris would certainly fit better amongst the fashionistas of the night than Catherine, if nothing else than for the fierce and fearless way in which she wore her outfit.<br><br>It only was a brief moment, and then Catherine was herself again, control and calculation rising.&nbsp; "Good evening, Iris."&nbsp; She gave a smile and a nod to Joshua as Iris recalled their earlier conversation, leading Catherine to worry that she had let Iris wait too long.&nbsp; Next time a five-minute lead would not be sufficient.<br><br>Her eyes turned back to Iris as the other woman asked her question.&nbsp; Indeed Catherine had ridden on the back of bike before on a weekend outing with a boyfriend, and her eyes flared ever so slightly at the memory.&nbsp; When she had accepted the ride she had not known it was called "riding bitch", and had been angered at the term when it was unexpectedly used for her that weekend.&nbsp; Nor had she really anticipated the lack of control.&nbsp; The next time she had ridden with the boyfriend she had learned to ride on her own.&nbsp; She loved the thrill of it, though she hadn't done so since shortly after college.&nbsp; But even though that flash of memory might have been hinted at for someone as perceptive as Iris, her voice was perfectly pleasant as she last spoke.<br><br>"Some time ago I rode pillion with a friend, yes."&nbsp; Was this a test of her nerves, perhaps?&nbsp; Surely she wouldn't suggest that Catherine ride on a bike in this weather, and in such an outfit as she wore now.&nbsp; Her mind spun considering what clothes she had that might do for such a ride - certainly nothing she'd worn in the past few years - but did she still have those leather pants somewhere in her closet?<br><br>Despite those contingencies playing her mind, her nature leads her to take on the conversational offensive, as it were.&nbsp; "I'm sure that we can find a safe place for your bike," she says with a nod to Joshua.&nbsp; "My BMW has been repaired, and I believe I owe you a ride as it is."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>27-01-2008, 15:26:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Iris could have insisted that they take her motorcycle to their destination, and could have prevailed, she was certain.&nbsp; Catherine would want to please her, even before the emotional ties that had been created upon the ingestion of her blood, as a valuable new client whose fortune could help Catherine make hers.&nbsp; Would it have been a deal-breaker to insist?&nbsp; Probably not, she decided, but in the end not worth the ill-will that would have resulted from her insistence.&nbsp; Despite the pride she felt that her prospective fledgling was strong enough, combative enough to stand up to her calculated insanity to suggest a high-speed bike trip on a December evening, she nevertheless made deliberate note of it, and resolved that she would punish Catherine for the defiance later, when the true nature of their relationship had become more clear.<br><br>Allowing her lips for form a blatant, pouting moue, Iris looked to Joshua, as if for his assistance in persuading Catherine from what, her body language suggested, was a needless stick-in-the-mud mentality.&nbsp; The doorman wisely avoided her eyes, looking down at his own shoes and shuffling uncomfortably for the moment until Iris looked away.&nbsp; "I would be happy to look after your guest's motorcycle, Miss Iverson," he said, his rich, deep with musical its Nairobian accent.&nbsp; "I've never had the privilege of valet parking a Kawasaki Ninja before, but I believe you'll find me up to the task.&nbsp; Is that a ZX-fourteen?" he inquired.<br><br>"It is," replied Iris.&nbsp; "With some modifications suggested by the RR model.&nbsp; Most people think it's a 650."<br><br>"The engine placement gives it away."<br><br>Smiling, Iris handed the keys to Joshua, and the helmet as well.&nbsp; "Against me," she said.&nbsp; "You're both against me.&nbsp; Ach, well, I know when I'm outnumbered.&nbsp; Very well, Catherine, you win.&nbsp; You may drive me in your Beam-her.&nbsp; But I owe you a ride.&nbsp; I love the feeling of the machine between my legs, yeah?"&nbsp; She turned neatly in place, and placed her arm through Catherine's.&nbsp; Since Catherine was the taller of the two, as well as the fact that she was Catherine's guest, rather than vice versa, she did not seem to mind being seen as a piece of arm candy attached to her side.&nbsp; But that still left the question of how best to reply to the double entendre she had deliberately dropped into the last bit of conversation...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>29-01-2008, 02:23:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Thank you, Joshua", Catherine smiled to him, noting once again while she felt it was quite worth it to keep him gratuity substantial.&nbsp; A New York doorman lived more on his tips than his salary, an arrangement that led to bright and yet subtle men such as Joshua well placed in what might otherwise seem a minimum-wage drag.<br><br>Catherine's mind spun introspective as she took steps towards the garage, Iris in her arm.&nbsp; She didn't look over at the shorter woman, trying to place the thump of her own heart - was it just the feel of exhilarating fencing of positioning that seemed to come with Iris, the incredible potential for monetary and career gain, or something more?&nbsp; Not knowing herself in this was dangerous, a flag raised in her own mind.&nbsp; But after a few steps she had pushed these thoughts to spin in the back of her mind, replaced the smile on her lips with a tone midway between professional and friendly as she looked over to meet Iris' eyes.<br><br>"I would like that, Iris" she lied smoothly.&nbsp; The difference in their height meant that even as she looked at Iris' face, the lacy edge of the other woman's undershirt couldn't help but catch her eye.&nbsp; And then there was Iris' eyes, and that thump in her.&nbsp; From her long experience, Iris could see in Catherine's eyes the flicker of need that mingled both from the fading blood and perhaps something else in Catherine's emotional makeup - something normally held deep and far away.<br><br>A few steps down through a door and the gleaming BMW crouched waiting.&nbsp; Catherine found herself circling the car to open the door for Iris like a gentleman, perhaps working instinctively from some assumption based on Iris' European background.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>31-01-2008, 17:00:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Iris seated herself in the passenger seat of Catherine's BMW.&nbsp; Strange, to be sitting on the right side of the car and not see a steering column in front of her.&nbsp; She had learned to drive in the UK, and had never spent much time learning how to operate a driver-left vehicle, and her only experience driving on the right side of the road had been in the few months she had been in the United States.&nbsp; She watched Catherine to see if the operation was fundamentally different with the reverse positioning as the other woman got in and began the pre-driving ritual.&nbsp; She smiled at Catherine as their eyes met, not shamed in the least that Catherine should know that she was watching her closely.<br><br>When the engine turned over, Iris reached a hand out to turn off the radio with a single, stabbing motion of her forefinger, cutting off whatever radio station or music Catherine had playing.&nbsp; The dash clock gave the time at twenty minutes to the hour, more than sufficient time to get to the showing.&nbsp; "You don't mind," said Iris, her phrasing giving the statement as an imperative rather than as a question.&nbsp; "But I had my people work up a background check on you.&nbsp; I was very impressed by what I saw.&nbsp; Brown University, full academic scholarship.&nbsp; Quite a feat, and your work performance in the firm since you graduated has been even better."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>03-02-2008, 16:28:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The brief words of an announcer relating news on the increased value of the yuan compared to the dollar were cut off sharply by Iris' finger on the radio's power.&nbsp; Catherine found it didn't surprise her - Iris seemed to have command of any situation she was in, and perhaps that was part of what made this relationship so fascinating.&nbsp; Even as her mind phrased it as a relationship she found ambiguity in the term.&nbsp; It was clearly not just the business relationship she had with other clients, cool and crisp with perhaps a polite but false warmness over the top.&nbsp; But yet it was not the same as a casual relationship of acquaintances or friends.&nbsp; And that made it fall in the gaps that made it both exciting and uncomfortable.<br><br>She twisted to look between the seats as she put the car into reverse, her trim torso taunt against the blouse with the motion as Iris related Catherine's background check.&nbsp; Catherine wasn't surprised, made no protest, just met Iris's eyes briefly again as she turned forward.&nbsp; She didn't speak, expecting it was quite likely Iris had more to say.&nbsp; She would have expected such a check, given the sums of money involved.&nbsp; It did remind her how little she had been able to find on Iris.&nbsp; And she had to wonder how much deeper Iris had sought into her life.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>03-02-2008, 21:48:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was held in legend, aided in no small way by the on-screen exploits of Bela Lugosi and Gary Oldman (though she'd always found Christopher Lee's performance more believable), that her kind held powers to control, dominate, and read the minds of others, especially those that the vampires took as servants.&nbsp; True, in some cases, but not hers.&nbsp; Iris could no more pry the secrets of safe codes or safewords from someone else's mind than Catherine.&nbsp; True, she was a student of body language and nonverbal means of communication with centuries of practice, and this allowed her at times to cold read someone to the extent that they would later swear that the Norsewoman was a mystic, but it was all flash.&nbsp; The information she'd had on Catherine had come the hard, old fashioned way; through long hours of research and a team of data miners combing old files, paper and electronic.&nbsp; Still, the depth of what they had uncovered wouldn't hurt her reputation in the slightest, especially since she'd deliberately given Catherine the impression that her researchers had only been at the task for a day.<br><br>"Very impressive indeed, what you've done.&nbsp; Especially since that little business senior year.&nbsp; What did you tell your employers when they asked you if it was true, if you'd cheated on that exam?"&nbsp; She sat still, watching Catherine with cold hunter's eyes, which seemed to gleam from the veil of shadows the garage lighting threw across her face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>07-02-2008, 00:47:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's eyes narrowed briefly before returning to control.&nbsp; Her reply was casual and controlled.&nbsp; "I think that the judgment of the committee spoke for itself though: that his accusations were baseless and motivated by his competitiveness and emotional state from the break-up of our relationship."&nbsp; She paused, trying to decide how to phrase it, and finding that she wanted to let Iris in on it, unconsciously seeking approval.<br><br>A thin smile on her lips, she continued in more of a stage aside, "After all, while the professor had stipulated no notes, he had explicitly allowed calculators.&nbsp; The fact that I found a model that I could program with rather extensive text in the memory registers, and that those registers were blanked by the time the committee asked to see them, is entirely beside the point."&nbsp; He head tilted slightly to the side as the car banked around a corner.&nbsp; "And it was ridiculous to ban notes in the first place - no professional would need to have full recall of all of those details anyway without recourse to books or a computer."<br><br>"And after all, the professor still gave me full marks on the exam and the class, so clearly he was not concerned about the matter."&nbsp; The fact that the professor wished for her to stay in academia and become his protoge was another side matter that she hadn't discouraged, though she had no intent to do anything but head straight for the business world.&nbsp; That he additionally was clearly attracted to her, and yet too shy to do anything more than look down her shirt had also not hurt in the final assessment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>09-02-2008, 00:28:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Iris laughed, freely, her voice rich and deep and rolling in the confines of the car, and Catherine became aware of a scent that she hadn't been aware of before.&nbsp; It was familiar, and she had to concentrate to place it, but made the connection eventually, no doubt due to the brief trip down memory lane.&nbsp; It was English Leather aftershave, the scent worn by her advanced accounting professor, the same one in whose class she had been accused of cheating on the final exam.&nbsp; She'd more than had her nose filled with it the night after the committee had reached its decision and exonerated her.&nbsp; There had been wine, and dinner, and more wine, and things had gotten as close as they might have come between the milquetoast professor.&nbsp; He had worn the aftershave, and she had smelled it on his neck and cheeks, where she'd placed the side of her face during a warm, friendly embrace that might, if things had gone on just a bit longer, put one of them into a position to make a move on another.<br><br>Her companion spoke, and the aftershave odor vanished, replaced by the smell of Iris, stronger and sweeter, somehow, than it had been last night.&nbsp; "Jordon Preston was his name, yes?&nbsp; The boy that you dated.&nbsp; What did you ever do to him?"&nbsp; Curious phrasing.&nbsp; Not <em>what happened to him</em>, but <em>what did you do to him.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>14-02-2008, 01:12:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine laughed along with Iris.&nbsp; How odd to have that flash of the professor's aftershave, but Catherine had vague heard of such olfactory flashes associated with memories, though for her it was usually more likely that she remembered the music around an event.&nbsp; But that though was erased by the scent that came next - it was intoxicating, the smell of Iris's perfume.&nbsp; Was it just the confinement of the car, or the perfume more recently applied?&nbsp; Yes, that must be it, the analytical part of her mind decided.<br><br>But the emotional part of it was more surprising and harder to quantify in analytic terms.&nbsp; The way her heart beat, the way there was some lunge in her that wanted to feel the cool touch of Iris's hand ... or lips.&nbsp; Catherine had never had any experience with addiction, at least not in a chemical sense, only in the sense of her driving ambition.&nbsp; That her body was reacting to the fading memory of that taste of Iris's lifeblood was beyond her ability to even guess.&nbsp; So her heart interpreted it in the only way it could.<br><br>Her previous control had slipped into easy rapport, and she found it so easy to laugh along with Iris, and answered her question without the usual guarded thought.&nbsp; "It was more what he couldn't do to me."&nbsp; There was a wry smile as she remembered Jordon, naked below her.&nbsp; "Oh he was sharp - when we were a team for the business case competition there was no one who was even close to us."&nbsp; Catherine looked over at Iris, her eyes off the road to meet Iris's for just a moment, and then the words just tumbled on.&nbsp; "He couldn't satisfy me.&nbsp; He was enthusiastic, for the most part, if a bit vanilla in his tastes.&nbsp; But he just couldn't keep up."&nbsp; She glanced over again, some part of her realizing she had perhaps stepped to far in her revelations, that she shouldn't be speaking of lovers in such a way to a ... <br><br>To what, a business client?&nbsp; But was Iris right now a business client, or something different.&nbsp; The uncertainty ricocheted in her mind and she fell silent for a brief pause.&nbsp; And Catherine was not used to being uncertain.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>14-02-2008, 01:29:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"And then, when he had sensed that his performance in the bedroom was not giving you what you wanted, what you <em>needed</em>, his pride was offended in such a way that he could not tolerate it.&nbsp; He asked you what was wrong <em>with you</em>.&nbsp; Oh, it would never be him, he could never fail, it must be you, you want too much, your needs are filthy and shameful and perverse...such lies he told you to save face."<br><br>The fervor with which Iris spoke was not feigned.&nbsp; She had been there once, too, and it had been her first act of courage in mortal life to fight back against the oppression that taught her to reject and fear her desires and needs.&nbsp; Without taking her eyes from Catherine's face, Iris raised a hand to the wheel and adjusted their orientation so that they were no longer drifting between lanes, letting this pass without remarking on it.&nbsp; She captured her protoge in her eyes, and would not let her go, letting the tiniest bit of her power to enthrall lock Catherine's gaze onto her.<br><br>"The truth is," she said, in a lover's whisper.&nbsp; "That he wasn't enough for you.&nbsp; Never was.&nbsp; You wanted wine, and he offered you grape juice.&nbsp; You wanted ecstasy, and he peddled cheap thrills.&nbsp; You were right not to settle for less than you deserve."&nbsp; The invitation hovered, unspoken, between them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>14-02-2008, 03:49:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's breath was stilled, though she wasn't entirely aware of it at the time.&nbsp; Her thoughts seemed to slip into the blue of Iris's eyes, unconscious for the moment of the car, its drift along the city street, and Iris's hand guiding them from a sudden interruptive crash.<br><br>She felt her heat rise with Iris's powerful, emotional words.&nbsp; She felt Iris's anger as if it was channeled between their locked gaze.&nbsp; Her own remembered anger rose, the words she had exchanged with him, as what seemed to be a traditional part of his background came out.&nbsp; Some men were all well and pleased to find a girlfriend with a libido that allowed them to fulfill their own needs, but the words for a woman whose libido, endurance, and creativity exceeded theirs - those were harsh words.&nbsp; Nympho, slut, whore.&nbsp; They all carried the feeling of lack of control, lack of fidelity, lack of mortality.&nbsp; He had called her all these things, though she had been faithful to him during their relationship, and thought herself committed to him.<br><br>As Iris's voice dropped to the sensual whisper, the remembered anger rolled over into an increasing bond with Iris, a kinship, like the close friend she had not had since college, like... like...&nbsp; Iris seemed so confident, so sensual, so powerful.&nbsp; Her heart thumped, her mouth dry as she was caught in the gaze of the other woman.<br><br>"I swore I would never settle" her voice was quiet, with undertones of old anger and an earthy lustfulness.&nbsp; "I have never since let any man own my heart like he did."&nbsp; But then her tone dropped, more vulnerable, more open, and Iris can see the emptiness behind her eyes.&nbsp; "Only brief pleasures, sometimes as intense as short." There was a longer pause "But still I don't think any have really satisfied me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>15-02-2008, 08:42:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Pay attention to the road, Catherine," she said, releasing both the steering wheel and Catherine's eyes from the drowning pool of her gaze.&nbsp; She felt the delicious heat growing in the other woman, felt her developing arousal.&nbsp; In the car, it seemed to brush between them like a cat, rubbing its fur on their skin, though neither of them had mentioned it.&nbsp; But she felt it, oh yes.<br><br>To tend to the intoxicating feeling without appearing to do so, to subtly but overwhelmingly make herself as necessary for Catherine to function as an alcoholic's drink or user's line of powder...addiction was a potent weapon, a powerful tool.&nbsp; Especially for someone like her, whose own emotional state was somewhat...different...than that of most people.&nbsp; Her own passions were either shams, given the appearance only by mimicry, or else hollow, distant echoes of real emotions.&nbsp; Her brief, mute flare of anger had been a mixture of both; Iris had empathy for what Jordon had put Catherine through, but that had not prevented her from deliberately goading her into that last impromptu confession.<br><br>Iris unfastened her shoulder harness and twisted, lithe as a cat, in the car.&nbsp; The backseat, like in most luxury coups, was more of an afterthought and had probably not been designed with comfort in mind, but she slipped into the backseat, spilling into the place behind Catherine with the ease of a deft child.&nbsp; Her pale hands came around Catherine's seat, settling on her shoulders, where they began to squeeze firmly, thumbs digging into points of tension at her shoulder blades, bleeding it out.<br><br>"And you will not have to," Iris said, softly.&nbsp; "Settle.&nbsp; There is no reason why you should ever take a lover, man or woman, that cannot satisfy you.&nbsp; Keep your eyes on the road, you do not need to look in the mirror to know I am here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>15-02-2008, 23:33:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's attention sprang back to the road in time to make a right-hand turn around a corner, suddenly realizing she'd overshot her intended route.&nbsp; A brilliantly lit billboard of a beautiful reclining model advertising an uptown store seemed to shine down on her, adding to the surreality of the moment in which Iris suddenly slipped into the back seat.&nbsp; Some part of her wanted to swing her head to the side to track Iris's movement, but some lingering compulsion kept her attention fast upon the road. <br><br>Catherine's shoulders are slender and toned beneath Iris's fingers, the knots of tension quickly evident to her perception.&nbsp; She lets out a long sigh as Iris's thumbs press into them, her shoulders slowly sliding downward into a more relaxed posture, even as her chest arches just a bit outward in reaction to the pressure and sensation.&nbsp; Iris can feel the warmth of her skin through her top, and radiating from her long neck and pulsing throat.<br><br>It seems she has no need to answer, her body humming with a tension not entirely confined to muscles, so she mutely nods.&nbsp; The command and the moment combine to make her unusually docile compared to her normal self, as if Iris had slipped like a thin blade between plates of the armor of her ego.&nbsp; For the moment, it was though she was in a dreamlike place.&nbsp; But beneath that her mind was still fierce and strong, and Iris could perhaps perceive it starting to surface, trying to force its way back into control if not at all understanding how it got to that place.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>15-02-2008, 23:52:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Park here, Catherine.&nbsp; I do not mind the walk.&nbsp; We are close enough."&nbsp; It would probably be best to settle for the&nbsp; open space on the curb four blocks from the gallery rather than begin circling for a nearer spot, and Iris knew that, her verbal prompts not withstanding, Catherine was soon about to lose her ability to focus on the task of driving.&nbsp; The warm darkness of the cab was broken only by the harsh, yet sultry glow of the billboard and neon lights.&nbsp; Through the pads of her fingers, Iris could feel the pulse of Catherine's heart in its steady, powerful beat that quavered beneath her touch, trying to both quicken and slow in response to the mingled pleasure and relaxation her massage brought, and that was temptation in itself for her.<br><br>Iris delicately plucked the button of Catherine's blouse, opening it to just above the breastbone.&nbsp; It was enough to loosen the collar, and let her draw it teasingly away from her neck and shoulder.&nbsp; She did it achingly slowly, teasing herself and Catherine as the air rushed to caress the bared skin, as she herself saw the throbbing artery on her throat.&nbsp; Oh...her teeth hurt.<br><br>It was an act of will to resist simply lunging forward, but to act as the timid lover even now as she leaned in.&nbsp; A spill of her hair fell across Catherine's shoulder, pooling in her lap.&nbsp; Catherine's neck was beneath her lips, and then...<br><br>Fangs sharp as needles, sharp as razors, sliced into the skin, piercing and tearing it, and she placed her lips around the wound, even as her arms circled Catherine from behind in a parody of a lover's embrace.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>19-02-2008, 03:20:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine pulls to the side as instructed, her mind just starting to surface.&nbsp; It seems a logical direction, particularly given Catherine's fitness and her lack of desire to suddenly be in the midst of a press scene.&nbsp; For all of her need for power and recognition, that was driven into narrow channels - unlike others in her role who felt that they had to start become part of the great New York social scene with all of its exposures and notoriety.&nbsp; She was fine with walking in from the side and showing their passes instead of getting into the high-visibility (and high-cost) valet line where the cameras would be waiting.<br><br>The car had just sleekly slid into a parking spot as Iris's fingers opened Catherine's blouse.&nbsp; Her heart lept again at the touch, suddenly wishing those fingers to slide down her chest.&nbsp; The image was so vivid to her, like the culmination of a dream, she felt the warmth and tingle of arousal surge through her chest, her belly, and more.&nbsp; She leans her head back into the rest, exposing her long neck to Iris as one might to a lover, expecting perhaps a soft stroke of a finger or a nibbling kiss.<br><br>Instead her body made a small jump as Iris's fangs pierced her skin, not entirely unlike the involuntary jerk of someone on the cusp of falling asleep.&nbsp; Her arms pushed against Iris's, motivated by some deep seated feeling that something was wrong.&nbsp; The rest of her was entrapped by the seat belts, by Iris's arms, and by some warring impulse within her as to whether she should fight or submit.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>19-02-2008, 17:14:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With the sudden, piercing tear in Catherine's throat, Iris' fangs withdrew into her mouth, leaving behind two pinpoint wounds over her artery, and her lips formed a tight seal around the wounds.&nbsp; Thereafter, every pump of Catherine's heart sent her blood into Iris' mouth in a hot, sweet red gush that was as pleasurable for the vampire as anything she had ever known.&nbsp; Wanted and needed and craved and intoxicating, she felt herself moan as she slowly drank.<br><br>Her arms were strong enough to restrain Catherine, even if she had no mind to make this a pleasurable experience for her lover.&nbsp; But she did have this desire, and once more she let her power brush against Catherine's mind, deliberately inflaming the emotional memories of certain events of her life.&nbsp; Here was the blissful high when she and her professor had defended her before the review board and fumbled, drunkenly, at each other in need and triumph.&nbsp; Here was the exhileration of Catherine astride Jordon on the one occaision she had persuaded him to try being tied to the bed while they made love.&nbsp; Here was every guilty flash of pleasure, every endorphin rush, deliberately evoked and stirred to immediate prominence.&nbsp; <br><br>It was not foolproof; Iris could still be resisted if Catherine was willing to fight against every memory of pleasure she had ever known in the face of submitting to Iris' kiss, but few had that sort of fortitude.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>20-02-2008, 04:06:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's arms relaxed for the moment, even as fire stirred through her mind.&nbsp; Jordan's hardness inside of her as she rode him was enhanced by the power she had over him, how he groaned into the makeshift gag of her bikini panties and a nylon scarf.&nbsp; His groans turned into the memories of Michael, a in-house rival and would-be boyfriend groaning as he hauled himself hand over hand up the rock face, trying to keep up with Catherine as she pushed herself to get to the top of the climb first and claim the prize of their bet - and the attention of their boss, himself a rock climber who had put them up to it.&nbsp; Looking down at Michael as his hand slipped and he fell into the the safety of his line, she exulted in her victory.&nbsp; Then she no longer looking down the rock face, but the low wall at the top of a hill in the summer of her sixteenth year, watching as a sun-drenched couple disrobed on top of a spread blanket, all arms and legs as they giggled and tusselled, and then moaned and thrust.&nbsp; Her hand was on her nipple, the other stroking herself through thin panties as she wished that she could be the bare-chested young woman who directed her boyfriend to thrust into her harder - deeper, and then she was as she had her first true conquest of college, guiding his eager hardness into her as they lay on the floor of the dorm room with the sunlight spilling in.<br><br>Then she was in the near-dark, her world a little tipsy-turvy from drink, as she fumbled under warm covers that trapped their heat from the cold winter air of the apartment.&nbsp; Her hands played over softness, softer than her own body, curves and valleys and warm wetness to match her own.&nbsp; Lips met hers, then trailed down her body to suck at a nipple, bringing it to delicious, exquisite pleasured hardness.&nbsp; Unlike then men she had wanted to conquer she felt lost here - because of her partner being a woman or because of the alcohol it was hard to tell.&nbsp; And when her lips and tongue played between her thighs, teasing her folds and her bud, the sensation was so different from the athletic, competitive sex she had had with men.&nbsp; Her body arched as an unexpected orgasm rolled through her and another built behind.<br><br>And back in the driver's seat of the car, Catherine's body arched in memory of those orgasms, as if on the edge of repeating that little death here.&nbsp; Her open jacket was pulled back to the sides by Iris's arms, her chest pushing outward against the blouse, her nipples hard points clear through the thin bra and top.&nbsp; Her lungs filled and emptied, her mouth open but soundless.&nbsp; Her hips pushed against the constraint of the seatbelt, legs angled wide as if to admit a lover, pulling the skirt tight and upward, the small fabric patch of her thong already quite soaked.&nbsp; Her body was in that moment of greatest desire, quavering for the last sensation that might let her release all that tension, her mind wanting anything - anything that would make that conclusion come.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>21-02-2008, 00:12:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For Iris, the act of drinking blood...not only Catherine's blood, but from anyone, victim or lover, carried with it so many aspects and intensities.&nbsp; Of course, there was the necessity of it; she would literally die if she went too long without it.&nbsp; But beyond that, the craving for blood was both like and deeper, more intense, than any human want; greater than the want of food, or water, or comfort, greater than the need for intimacy, the desire for sexual gratification, the rush of adrenaline or the thrill of endorphins.&nbsp; And when the blood was in her mouth, it brought with it a warmth that spread throughout her, making her skin tingle and mind reel, and this was only the physical effects.<br><br>Emotionally, mentally, it was altogether even more powerful.&nbsp; For while Iris did not know, specifically, what Catherine experienced in her arms, she could taste the effect it was having on her.&nbsp; The smell of both women's arousal filled the car, even eclipsing Iris' perfume, which had been dominant when she indulged her predator's hunger, and she growled, softly, as she felt her body responding.&nbsp; Ever thus had it been that one of her kind could taste and experience, like a parasite, all of the emotions of their victims.&nbsp; Some went so far as to terrorize the humans on whom they fed, craving the fear and adrenaline.&nbsp; Others still cultivated love or something very much like it, to stir their unbeating hearts with amour.&nbsp; But to Iris, the taste of desire was the sweetest, and so she was careful to stroke that emotion by power and by words and deeds before savoring a meal such as the one Catherine offered.<br><br>Had she not fed only the night before, it would have been too much for her to stop at the few mouthfuls that she did.&nbsp; All in all, the amount of blood she took from Catherine was minimal, but drawn out over several minutes of both women indulging in wonderfully erotic bliss as she did.&nbsp; Her lips broke contact with Catherine's skin, as she let out a gasp, crashing back and discovering how deeply in need she was.&nbsp; Every beat of her heart sent aching sensations of longing and emptiness to the cleft between her legs, making it feel as if she needed to be filled, desperately needed to be taken and ravished and serviced...her cheeks had pale spots of color on them as she maneuvered back into the passenger's seat, daintily wiping her lips on a handkerchief from her pocket.<br><br>In the time it took her to climb back, she had found control again, and looked at Catherine with a smile.&nbsp; It might never even have happened at all.&nbsp; "I think, tonight," she said, speaking so softly Catherine had to lean in close to hear her.&nbsp; "You will take me home with you after the show."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>21-02-2008, 01:14:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fog around Catherine's perceptions is thick with her arousal.&nbsp; Iris's words slip through this fog unheard by her conscious mind, but taken as a directed by her subconscious.&nbsp; And yet her body would have no argument now, as desire was pushing aside Catherine the analyst and given way to a deeper Catherine that had not come out for far too long.&nbsp; Or rather, only had come out in solitary moments of self-pleasuring fantasy in her apartment.&nbsp; It seemed to her that she pressed through that fog instantly, though it took long enough to recover for Iris to just have returned to her seat.<br><br>Catherine's eyes met those of pale blue beside her, and there was a hunger and desire in them that Iris had not seen before.&nbsp; While there was no unnatural magic in her gaze, it was one which would have drawn in and compelled many a lower.&nbsp; Without breaking eye contact she unclipped her seat beat and leaned straight into Iris, her mouth seeking the others, her left hand seeking across the cabin towards Iris, though it was still unclear if she would grip the other woman's strong thigh so tight in those jeans or slide betwixt the scarlet blouse and that lacy undershirt to find the softness beneath.&nbsp; There is no question in those eyes what Catherine wants, but to complete that unfinished need that has come upon her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>21-02-2008, 01:25:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The musical trill of her laughter met Catherine in just the moment before their lips met.&nbsp; Iris had seen what she was about to do, and decided, in that instant, to allow it, at least for now, because, to her reckoning, it would only fan the flames to a higher burn.&nbsp; And once the passion had become all consuming, Catherine would be hers in body, heart, and spirit.&nbsp; And the conquest itself would be...so enjoyable.<br><br>Iris yielded, or appealed to yield, before Catherine's insisting, aggressive actions.&nbsp; Her pale face tilted back, her lips parting to invite Catherine to explore her mouth with her kiss, the lightest bit of suckling on her lower lip to encourage it.&nbsp; Her hand intercepted and guided Catherine's, placed it inside her jacked, over the scarlet, sheer material of her blouse over her stomach, and there held it in place so that she could caress her soft flesh alive with stolen warmth.<br><br>By now, Iris was doing nothing to feed Catherine's ardor.&nbsp; Whatever she did, she did because of her own wants and needs.&nbsp; Granted, she'd had some help getting there, but her actions were her own.<br><br>Iris moaned into the kiss, the caress of her hand, yielding and inviting and trembling, ever so slightly, as if before a demanding lover whose needs surprised her in their intensity.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Silkcat</strong> on <strong>21-02-2008, 01:52:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Catherine's lips were red with desire more than her simple lipstick might have offered, and filled with a warmth brought by her beating heart which seemed not to miss at all a few mouthfuls of blood.&nbsp; Her tongue played over Iris's lips in between presses of lip to lip.<br><br>Her hand slid with confident need from Iris's stomach upward, seeking the softness of her breast, fingers ready to seek out the expected hard nub that matched her own almost painfully hard nipples.&nbsp; While Catherine didn't have that much experience in making love to another woman, she knew what she wanted for herself, and what she wanted to touch and take.<br><br>Catherine's body moves up out of her seat and more over the stick shift and towards the passenger side, heedless now if there might be any passers-by on the sidewalk who might see in through the light of the next streetlight.&nbsp; It was an indiscretion that was unlike her, but perhaps one pent up for too many years of need and too many years of control.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wall Street by Night (Rydia and Silkcat)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rydia</strong> on <strong>21-02-2008, 03:13:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Catherine maneuvered herself over the stick shift, Iris pulled back on the lever on the side of her seat, pulling the back down so that it opened up into the back and she was able to recline, lying down almost horizontally in the seat.&nbsp; Her pale face stared up at Catherine, her moist lips smiling.&nbsp; In the shadows, all of the colors, even the vibrancy of her hair, was lost, and only her skin shone through, gleaming softly in the diffuse streetlamps.&nbsp; <br><br>Iris let out a slow, deep breath as Catherine's hand cupped her full, aching breast.&nbsp; Her palm, even through the layers she wore beneath her jacket, tickled the nub of her nipple into full, tight hardness.&nbsp; She let go of Catherine's hand, letting her explore her body without guidance or restriction.&nbsp; She put her hands on Catherine's shoulders, guiding her between her spread thighs.<br><br>"I knew you wanted me the second we me," she said in a breathy whisper.&nbsp; "But I did not know how much you wanted me...on the street, for God's sake..."
			</dd>
		</dl>
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