Proposition Indecision


eliot_icon.gif nalani_icon.gif

Scene Title Proposition/Indecision
Synopsis Nalani visits rapture and Eliot wants some publicity. He wants something else too. He only gets one thing.
Date March 19, 2009


The pulsing beat of bass throbs through the walls of Rapture, a high-class nightclub in the heart of Harlem. Rows of expensive cars line up out front of the exclusive club and a crowd of would-be patrons wait outside, cherry-picked by the bouncers to have only the cream of the crop on the interior, while leaving just enough eye-candy outside to entice other patrons. The club serves as a respite for the trendy and the influential from the grind of daily life.

On the inside, Rapture is as much a spectacle as it is a structure. Multiple dance floors in tiered balconies overlooking an enormous central dance floor ringed by plush leather-upholstered booths. Pale blue light shines on the wrap-around bar that curved around the back of the establishment, and the entire building is filled floor-to-floor and shoulder-to-shoulder with the pulsing, flowing sea of people dancing to the rythmic beats of electronic dance music piped through the expansive sound-system.

It's early in the night, still. Rapture hasn't started truly booming, yet, but there's already a considerable amount of people inside, crowding at least two of the dance-floors; and a long line of scarcely dressed women and metrosexual men hoping they might get lucky enough to be admitted.

Inside, the club's owner, Eliot Ford, sits at the bar with a glass of bourbon, tapping his finger on the edge of it. He's wearing black slacks and an untucked, beige, cotton button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he's off in his own little world.

The empress of her magazine empire is out tonight. Thanks to the Company pills, there's no mind numbing migraine. There's just… peace. There's no ability to command this and that, ask for it and get. It's her reputation and her past actions that garner her that, for right now. The tall Arabic woman of British accents gets the joy of bypassing velvet ropes outside, dressed a little more than most other females in the club. Celebration of one of the assistants birthdays it seems, or that's the word on the grapevine, and so she's present, accounted for. The blonde at her side said birthday girl and some other friends with them, dressed in theme with the atmosphere.

Her job done, Nalani separates, a few words, and she's going ot be nice and let Stephanie be on her own and not need to cater to the former model. Instead it's to the bar, to fend for herself this night in her short black dress, drawing eyes as she goes.

When he spots Nalani, Eliot cracks a bit of a grin. He slips back and off his stool, and sidles up behind Nalani with a wider smile than the one he started off with. His hand slides to her waist, as he speaks near the back of her ear: "You owe me some publicity, Ms. Hollingwood." His tone is jesting; he's just yanking a particular chain they share.

"Now now Mr. Ford. Pray tell why I owe you publicity. Isn't my presence here enough to sitr the photographers for page six and the society pages to say where I went" Nalani offers him a wink even as she speaks in that muddled English accent. "Grey goose martini" To the bartender. "That table over there, I'm picking their tab" With that, the brunette turns her fave to the side, casted wrist so cleverly disguised by a cashmere cover of black rests on the counter. Now Eliot's lips are near her cheek and she can slant her brown eyes towards his own. "Eliot. How are you" She purrs. "It's been too long"

"Way too long, Nally." He presses his mouth against her cheek gingerly, and then pulls back, smiling as he sits in the stool next to hers. "So what brings you to the club this time? Just out on the town? Wanted to have a drink?" He glances over at the table who's tab she's picking up. "Employee's birthday?" Eliot recognizes the blonde.

Eliot's reward with a cheek kiss back, the lightest of brushes proper. Round she turns, to alight on the stool just so, one arm bent to support herself against the bar. "Stephanie's birthday. I had thought to let her enjoy herself for a night without needing to pander to me. Only fair since I wreak havoc and rule her lift every other day of the year. I also thought to have a night out myself. Are you just teasing, or are you looking for some publicity for the place?"

"Oh, yes. Stephanie." Eliot glances over and then back at Nalani, smiling wide at her. "Maybe a little of both? God knows I don't /need/ the publicity," he says, waving a hand a bit around. "But more couldn't hurt. So if you've got some time and someone to send over, I'm always free to give a few minutes for an interview or whatever."

"I just put next month's issue to bed but I can't see why it can't hurt to have someone come over some day, if…" Stephanie. Stephanie who's heart broke over Eliot and screwed up everything for a week. Nalani was furious with Eliot. But she got over it. The martini is slid across the counter, making her turn to take it up.

You can't stay mad at Eliot. It's very, very difficult. Especially if he's anywhere near you. There's just something about the man that is integrally pleasant; it seeps into a person's emotional core. "No hurry, Nally. Like I said, I don't need it. But it'd be nice to get some attention. I feel all ignored lately." /Now/ he's teasing; especially with the way he's looking her up… and down.

Which is why she doesn't mind it at all when Eliot parks beside her, and why more than likely, he'll get that publicity. "I'll give it to you, Eliot. On one condition" There's a gesture to Stephanie. "She gets treated like she the vice president tonight. If i have to pay for it" there's a flutter of her hand as if such a notion was a given, "Then I'll pay for it. But you owe it to her and that terribly nasty way you left her in my arms broken hearted. And.. well. Rapture is even more solidified to the younger consumers who devour my magazine. I might even be able to Lori Levonian to come spend a few nights straight here" She doesn't have her ability to impress her will on the words, just the bribery of free publicity.

Eliot glances over at Stephanie's group, and ponders this for a moment. After a second, he turns around and glances at Nalani, leaning over. "Okay. Tell you what. You get what you want, without paying. But." He slides off the stool, hand gliding over the bar next to her, as he stands up against her. "You dance with me." Bastard.

"Charmer" But the Martini's put down regardless. It's safe here. Who in their right mind would dare to spike a drink here. "Twist my rubber arm" Briefly there' a thought of Mohinder, the couch not long ago. "Just be careful. I"m someone's lady now. I don't know if he'd like you so close" But it's appearances, and whatnot. "You break Stephanie's heart again tonight, I'll truss you up on a stick and roast you over a pit" There's growled threat in that as her own lithe body slide off the stool and a few inches between him and her, heading for the crowded dance floor. Expectant of Eliot to follow.

Eliot smirks and sidles off after her, his hand snaking into hers as they wander towards the dance-floor. He steps up close behind her, hand on her hip, chest against her back. "I won't go anywhere near her heart, I promise," he whispers against the back of Nalani's ear. "And you'll always be a lady to me." His voice is sweet, smooth; like cool, clean river water, pure, right before its bottled.

"A tongue so silver, Eliot, do I need to send a man to do your interview" The dangling gold feathers brush against the curve of her neck as he takes his place behind her on the dance floor. It's her good hand that holds his, the cashmere cover settles on the one at her hip as she shifts her hips, dips and gives a backward shift. Years in her magazine office haven't kept her from remembering what it's like to party.

Eliot gives her a shady grin that she can't see. He lets her take his hand, and his other wraps around her hip, pulling her closer; taut against him. His mouth presses against the back of her jaw as he whispers: "Now what makes you think a man could get anything interesting out of me?" He owns a night club. He can /dance/.

"I was thinking that a man might be more safer" She points out as they dance on the floor. "I send you a woman, she'll be useless for days, and I'll get nothing but crooning about how great and near and dear you are, and nothing about your business" She has to speak a little louder to make herself heard, but not too loud.

"You really think just because someone's a man, they'll come back thinking I'm any less great, or near, or dear?" Eliot smirks a bit and lifts a hand to run down the side of her face, pulling her hair back behind her ear so he can talk against her cheek. "If you're that concerned, you should just do the interview yourself, hrm?"

A long soft sigh is pulled out of her at the touch of the club owner. "Such demands you make Eliot. I'm a busy woman" There's an equally slow inhale, breathing in the scent of him and the club, the atmosphere. "That certainly would cause a stir and even more publicity for you. That the great Nalani Hollingwood, deigned to descend from her gilded throne and take the words of such a humble club owner"

"Oh please," Eliot says. "You'd have control of every piece of information coming out onto the magazines, and you would never," he says, punctuation made with a slow grind of his waist, pressed tighter against her, "call me humble."

Unhindered laughter is what follows that press, throaty and real, not the fake laugh that she usually offers to everyone that passes for real. The hand that was covering his rests on a hip before it slides down to his outer thigh. "You know me so well in business. Damn you Eliot. Fine. Arrange a time through Stephanie. We'll go find some place to do it, I'll have someone draw up the questions. You have publicity shots of the club you want to use or will we be sending someone over so that you can preen before the camera. Humble, you are not"

"I have a few pictures in mind," Eliot says, grinning against her skin. He is pressed up to her rather tight; and no, he doesn't seem to be conscious of who it is he's more or less feeling up. Eliot doesn't usually treat people based on their status. "I'll call Stephanie… tomorrow. Tonight's her night off, according to her boss."

"Call? I'm assuming you'll just need to roll over" There's some envious looks by those near them, the two dancing so intimately on the floor. "Mohinder, I wonder, if he'll have a jealous bone in his body as to how close you are to me or where your hands are" Though if he's to be with her and she with him, it's going to be a fact of life. He doens't seem the type to attend things like these or the public functions. "You do know how to perk a woman up Eliot. A littel attention from you and we all just melt"

"Who's Mohinder?" Eliot asks with a sickle-shaped grin. "And you do yourself a disservice thinking you're the only one perked up." Now that… that's a line. It's hard to be that racey and still keep your charm in tact, but Eliot somehow just manages. Just.

"Dr. Mohinder Suresh. My brother brought him over for Christmas dinner" and the rest is history they say as they keep up their dancing on the dance floor. Though she shifts in his arms, letting his hand drag across her body as she turns to face him, anotehr swivel and dip of her hips. "And I don't doubt that I'm the only one Eliot, not in the least" Though she's not about to dip down enough to see if it's true or not.

"I like a woman who knows her talents," Eliot says, ignoring the talk of Suresh. He's heard the name before, but he can't remember exactly where. He'll indagate further later on, when he's got time. Her turning to face him just means that his hand is now fully on her thigh, fingers curling over the back of it. "Good. I'd hate for you to think you weren't having an effect." His smile, which she hasn't seen yet whilst they danced, is warm, and sharp; the kind that draws you in.

"Oh, I have an effect" It's her turn to place her lips near his ear and whisper, the front of her pressed against him. Her hand on his hip, the other palm sprawled across the flat of his back between shoulder blades. "You know, as well as I, that we don't get to where we are, without having some effect" He can feel her smile, the moue of her lips outward, brushing his outer ear.

Eliot just gives a soft, vague smile back at the sensation, and runs his cheek along hers, his hand curling just a bit firmer around her waist, tugging her closer; the other just a bit firmer around her thigh, tugging it up. His lips at just about against hers, though slightly to the side. "Now if only I could show you just what kind of effect."

"But then you'd be impeding on someone elses territory Eliot. That wouldn't be nice. And then i'd have to slap you, and it would make all the papers" God but her smelled so good regardless, even as one leg lifts up in his grip off the floor, toe pointed down. "Don't make me slap you Eliot"

"But you make it sound so very much appealing," Eliot says, shameless. His hand rides up her thigh, just a little. Because he can. He draws in that aura that surrounds him, just a little. Just a bit, tightening his grip on her leg even as he tightens his grip on her emotions. "What's life without a little risk, Nally?"

"I take a risk every day Eliot. You couldn't fathom" She murmurs. She could, tale that risk. She's nto a nice woman, she's a cold hearted bitch who gets what she wants, and she wants Eliot. But there's Mohinder. Who's never done a thing to her to earn her wrath. Her nose rubs ther idge of bone through flesh behind his ear. "But.. you Eliot are a risk I cannot take. The payout is not quite worth the fallout that would come from it"

At the refusal, he grips her hip and thigh tighter, pulls her in very close, hip-to-hip, and lowers his head, running his nose up her throat, and over her jaw, until he can whisper in her ear, his body so very still against hers, the only part of him moving those thick, slow-speaking lips against her skin: "Fallout can be cushioned. And you have no idea what the payout is like." As soon as he's done, talking, he slides back a ways, taking a much more formal, and less intimate position with her on the dance-floor.

"Silver tongued devil, you can put it away, try another day" Someone with a doctorate however is going to be getting that payout tonight thanks to Eliot. To a safer distance she moves, thankful that he made the first step back. "Be nice to her. I need her functioning tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to go finish my martini and leave. Plan something within the next two weeks. In case we have more questions to add to your publicity" Her hand is tight in his though, bound to leave little half moons on his flesh.

Eliot gives Nalani a short smile and then tugs her hand, bringing her over. "I think the only way you're going to get her functioning is if she doesn't come home with me tonight," Eliot tells her. "So remember, when you're in your bed, cozy and relaxed, that sacrifices have been made today on your behalf." He kisses her knuckles, and winks at her, before letting her hand go and turning to walk away.

"I shall have to retain that fantasy just a slight bit longer Eliot" She wilts, just a fraction, as he draws away. "Bloody hell" Nalani runs a manicured hand through her hair a glance to Stephanie and her little group, being treated like queens and danced attendance upon. It's a few minutes later and she's back at the bar, finishing off her Martini and collecting her belongings from the coat check. She's going home, and she's already dialing her phone, making sure Mohinder meets her there.

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