Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: MadPanda on 22-07-2008, 20:37:55</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>22-07-2008, 20:37:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The morning after a big party is always a chore: hangovers, at the very least.&nbsp; Sometimes the awkward moment of finding oneself in a strange bed with strange people...and so it is here, daylight bringing wakefulness and the throbbing aftermath of indulgence, but not necessarily enlightenment.<br><br>This is not her bed.&nbsp; This is certainly not her bed.&nbsp; And save for the familiar clothes on the floor, left in a clear trail from doorway to sheets, there might be some question about whether or not she got herself into this.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>25-07-2008, 03:47:50</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Had she been drinking? She didn't remember drinking. Of course, the last time she didn't remember drinking was when her father accidentally put too much wine in the seafood marinara. Though she didn't remember much marinara either, seafood or otherwise. Or maybe she'd been in an accident. That was always a possibility, at least until she noted that she'd probably would have awoken in a hospital bed not here. Wherever here was.<br><br>Lifting up the sheets, she looked down at herself. Still naked. Maybe she just didn't remember, the prior night blurring into the previous one after many days of hard focused work. She did sleep naked after all so maybe some kind co-worker had lent her a bed. That made less sense than being in an accident.<br><br>Blinking, she stared up at the ceiling for a moment, studying the pattern in the tiles and stucco before sitting up, the white sheets falling to her lap. She wasn't sore. Maybe a little cold, but she hadn't been in some sort of fight or physical activity. At least, none that would have her ending up that kind of sore. Had she had sex? It didn't seem that way though it would have fit.<br><br>"Oh bugger," She muttered, certainly not British either but the expression seemed fitting. The thought crossed her mind that she hoped she hadn't lost a piece of clothing some where. Now that would be embarrassing driving down Main Street only to see ones bra hanging off the hand of the city's founder.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>25-07-2008, 15:02:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The room, alas, holds no answers to her current predicament. Rising, she finds that one wall of the bedroom has a wide window with a very pleasant view of clear blue ocean and sky.&nbsp; It's also the northern wall, if the shadows are any indication...assuming that this place is north of the equator.<br><br>While pleasant, the view out the window gives her no clues at all as to her present whereabouts, but there aren't many views like it where she was last night.<br><br>Nuts.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>02-08-2008, 18:19:29</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The bed itself was a massive poster bed with a thin curtain around it like wisps of smoke, neatly tied up at the corners. As she swam out of the pillowing sheets and sprawling space, she almost fell off the edge and onto the small depression the bed sat in. It didn't take too much to make her feel a little small and standing next to the bed only exaggerated the size of the bed. Feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, she stepped up and out of the depression and took a second look around. A desk stood near one wall, plain and elegant in that sparse executive look and shining with a faux wood finish. An archway stood next to it, slanted against the walls and covered in only a heavy curtain. Behind her as she looked out the window, was a door way, a shimmer of marbled floor peeking from beneath the door.<br><br>She approached the window, pausing to see what was behind the sliding door to the left and peek down the spiral stairs to the right. Outside was...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>02-08-2008, 18:35:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Outside was a narrow alleyway, walled on both sides, and a row of low, simple structures.&nbsp; Beyond them was a chain link fence topped with concertina wire and then the edge of a cliff.&nbsp; From what she could see, there was no immediate access to the alleyway from her side of the wall.<br><br>As she watched, a dusty and battered Yugo made its way slowly down the alleyway, bearing a pair of men in brightly colored kaftans, sunglasses, and straw boater hats--an odd mix, to say the least.&nbsp; In the back seat of the tiny car was what appeared to be a cello case.&nbsp; The Yugo rolled on and out of sight.<br><br>No solid clues here, although something about the sea suggested the Mediterranean.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>05-08-2008, 09:13:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Geography was never a strong suit. Fortunately for her, there was just enough ambiance to trigger the Mediterranean flag in her mind. Something about the picturesque view from the window, overlooking a wind swept, sea kissed cliff, the funny looking car, and the clothing she glimpsed in the dust surrounding the windows as the car made its way somewhere lazily. Had she not woken up in the strange circumstances, she thought it might have been a nice place to be.<br><br>After studying the view, the buildings and fence giving up little of their secrets, she found herself no better off though the vague feeling in the back of her head felt a little trapped behind the nonchalant barriers. It was a rather comfortable seeming prison, if she was a prisoner; a low buzz kicked in somewhere in the building as a bead of sweat dangles from her breast to shimmer in the bright sun. <br><br>She turned to explore elsewhere and gingerly opened the door opposite the window to find a spacious bathroom with the kind of shower one finds in adult films - glass walls with enough room inside for several people and good enough lighting to highlight curves and screams. A towel lay temptingly over a rack on one of the shower walls. A nice hot shower might not help her situation very much but it would certainly be a delicious treat.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>05-08-2008, 16:01:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				From somewhere in the apartment...townhouse?...the sound of a ringing phone interrupted her train of thought.&nbsp; She could, of course, ignore it and hop into the shower.&nbsp; Or perhaps the caller might have a few clues for her!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>11-08-2008, 09:16:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Choices, choices, choices. Neither shower nor phone offered any real guarantee of answers. Whereas the shower would be comforting and relaxing, all the ringing in the world would hardly be the same. Had the phone been able to vibrate, perhaps then it would have stood as decent competition. On the third ring, however, her desire for a hint won out and she hurried through the penthouse looking for the phone, gingerly skipping across the cool wood floors. She'd have to find her socks at some point.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-08-2008, 15:42:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She reaches the phone in time, and a cheerful woman's voice with an unusual accent drifts over the line.<br><br>"Good morning!&nbsp; I trust you slept well?&nbsp; Here are your instructions.&nbsp; It's now just before nine.&nbsp; I've made lunch reservations at Crab Legs on the Ramble, just off the Plaza of Flowers.&nbsp; I hope you don't mind exotic dancers."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>15-08-2008, 07:34:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She blinked.<br><br>"What?"<br><br>That was really all she could form in her mind and get out of her mouth. Being addressed by an disembodied voice from someone she didn't know speaking to her like they knew her caught her off guard. The instructions that followed merely added to that confusion; the short question was all she really remembered.<br><br>"I uh... slept alright, I guess."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>15-08-2008, 15:01:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I'm so glad to hear that," the woman says cheerfully.&nbsp; "There's a city map on the kitchen counter.&nbsp; You can either find a taxi or grab a jitney, but you'll want to leave no later than eleven to get to the restaurant by noonish.&nbsp; It isn't that far as the crow flies, but traffic can be a pain."<br><br>She pauses for a moment...<br><br>"I am very much looking forward to working with you on this matter.&nbsp; You came highly recommended.&nbsp; Don't leave me hanging, now!"<br><br>The line goes dead.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>21-08-2008, 12:59:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The voice did not leave many options. Dropping her off in a strange unknown place and being the only option for answers left little room for alternatives. For now, she would play along like a good little girl. She took a shower, cleaned up, and tracked down her clothing. It was close to ten when she finished, dressed and headed out the door. Two hours was a long time to walk to an unknown place. It was also a good way to learn more about where you were by watching the locals.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>21-08-2008, 15:01:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fortunately, her new friends (if that word really applies) haven't left her completely clueless.&nbsp; On the kitchen counter, as promised, she finds a city map, keys to her new lodgings, and a few pamphlets with titles like 'Welcome to the Edge' and 'Burger-guide'.<br><br>The map even has a cheerful circle in something called the Burbs with 'you are here' inscribed next to it in candy apple red.&nbsp; Soooo...the Plaza of Flowers is...there.&nbsp; Yes, it's going to be a bit of a walk.<br><br>Outside, she walks into a pleasantly warm morning.&nbsp; Her neighborhood looks pleasant, low key, maybe lower middle class--small yards, private homes, in a familiar small-town Amerika way.&nbsp; Except, of course, that there are fewer cars present.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>24-08-2008, 07:35:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The scenery was decidedly bland; she could have been in most any suburb in America. From the white picketed fences to the two-car garages, the neighborhood seemed homely and friendly. Yet at the same time, an eerie feeling of misplacement pervaded the air. The apartment she left was opulent and wealthy; the outside was working class.&nbsp; Moreover, there was little life. All the trappings of a town were there and yet, with a closer look, there were the smaller things missing. Each yard a little too perfect. No child's toy left on the yard. No dog barking, leashed to a tree house. It looked professional, functional; less rather than more, as if only the fathers lived here with no families to mind.<br><br>She looked up and down the street, glanced at the map, and started an exploratory path towards her lunch date.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>24-08-2008, 15:45:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				After a while, and a few more signs of life (yards with kids and the occasional dog), she came to a bus stop.&nbsp; At least, it looked like a bus stop...but the jitney that rolled to a stop just as she approached was clearly a private vehicle.&nbsp; A pair of men, one in a rumpled suit and the other in a tie-dye tee shirt and overalls, got off and waved to the driver.<br><br>A sign in the window announced 'Plaza of Flowers'.&nbsp; That was more or less where she was going, wasn't it?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 05:52:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=18636.msg773727#msg773727">Quote from: MadPanda on 24-08-2008, 15:45:00</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">After a while, and a few more signs of life (yards with kids and the occasional dog), she came to a bus stop.&nbsp; At least, it looked like a bus stop...but the jitney that rolled to a stop just as she approached was clearly a private vehicle.&nbsp; A pair of men, one in a rumpled suit and the other in a tie-dye tee shirt and overalls, got off and waved to the driver.<br><br>A sign in the window announced 'Plaza of Flowers'.&nbsp; That was more or less where she was going, wasn't it?<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>She approached the jitney and waved to the driver.<br><br>"Morning!" She said with a smile, offering up a lost tourist-like look as she pointed to the sign in the window.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 15:21:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"And good morning to you!&nbsp; Heading to Flowers?"<br><br>The driver, who looks to be maybe a week younger than the pyramids, gives her a wide smile.<br><br>"Climb on in!&nbsp; If you have a few bucks for gas, that'll do for a fare.&nbsp; If not, get me next time."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JadeCore</strong> on <strong>28-08-2008, 10:04:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				So they spoke English. That made things much easier than having to cycle through a half-dozen languages to see if one worked or was close enough to make do with.<br><br>"I am," She replied, hesitantly climbing into the jitney. The idea of 'owing' a cabbie money struck her as odd. As she settled into her seat, she said as much. "I appreciate your generosity. How would I find you again to pay you back later?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Burned!  The Desjardin File (OtE) (MP/Saggitary)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>28-08-2008, 15:18:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You must be new!&nbsp; If you see me again, and if you use jitneys you will, pay me then.&nbsp; And if not, pay it forward.&nbsp; Ma'alesh!"<br><br>Closing the door behind her, he puts the jitney in gear and away she goes at something around twenty miles an hour.&nbsp; The other passengers are a pair of twins, Asian, with white hair and elaborate tattoos to go with their red silk tunics and black pants...a small child wearing a sweatshirt much too big for her that reads 'Property of D'Aubbaine University Chess Club'...and a blind old man with a seeing-eye monkey on a leash.&nbsp; The twins smile in eerie unison and nod.&nbsp; The girl regards her with large, sad eyes.&nbsp; The monkey makes a rude gesture.
			</dd>
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