Summary:This birthday's not lacking for a surprise. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Posse's seen a couple of places which Neena Thurman has claimed to own already. There was the nicer apartment in the city, the run-down 'bunker' stuffed so full of ordnance that two people could barely share the space together, and now this joint.
Overlooking the Disaster Zone is a building which at one time must have rented dwellings for stupid serious amounts of money. Somehow when so much of the city got leveled during the attack this one tower managed to remain standing, from all appearances completely unscathed. It's a highrise, a nice looking building overall, but not many people in the city want a view which overlooks the ruins.
And yet, it's perfect for Domino. Super low rent, completely overlooked by the locals, and with lots and lots of space paired with a considerable amount of privacy given that it's still well within New York City.
Ava would have gotten the message well in advance. Dom would have even offered to lead the way with her shiny new BMW sport bike once the cyborg clocked out for the evening. It's not even that far away from the RESCUE campus! Almost as if she had deliberately gotten it in order to keep a view on the place from afar…
That's probably just coincidence.
Maybe.
Inside the space is clean and bright with liberal use of pure white walls, floors, and ceilings. The ultra-modern LED lighting casts a pale blue glow to the interior at night. Stark black is also used for a sharp but balanced contrast. Take a picture of any angle of the interior and it would be worthy of a trending magazine article but for her such monochromed collisions are all too appropriate.
Without skipping a beat the albino takes some beers from the fridge and holds one out to Ava. "Figured at this point there's no harm in bringing you back to a proper home. Enjoy the view. Nothing else like it in the world."
*
Ava followed along easily enough on her own bike; the darned thing is horrendously unfair, really. She follows Dom up into the building, though, having picked up something large and kind of triangularly-boxy from her saddlebags; darned thing is so big they won't close properly. And it has a rather prominent wide red ribbon tied around it in a bow. She carries it with contemptuous ease, of course, as they head up through the building to the penthouse, but she keeps her armor on, her helmet closed and the interior lighting off. Very little of her face shows through, as a result, just hints of the white hair reflecting bits here and there and the outline of the face, that dark skin a noted contrast.
Once at the doors of the penthouse, Posse comes in slowly, looking around for a bit before the door shuts behind her, and pulls a phone out of the panel on the thigh of her armor. She extracts a small box from the thing she is carrying, setting it down and laying the phone on top of it, even as Dom heads into the kitchen to fetch those beers.
Attached to the small independent speaker system, the phone starts queuing up music, the pulsing, pounding beat of Halestorm's 'Do Not Disturb' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZNb8A48USo) … as she starts strutting, strolling ahead with a rolling, sensual gait that is so unlike Ava as to be startling. She tosses down the big triangular thing, and then keeps wiggling and wriggling and writhing to the music with improbable flexibility, even as she slams her gauntleted hands on contacts that stabilize the triangle, and then starts to raise and deploy a telescoping silvery bar.
Before a third of the song has passed, the bar has reached the ceiling, and then stabilizing rods pop out with smaller rubber feet as the whole thing sockets against the ceiling. Ava turns back around, writhing with her back against the pole, as her helmet unseals and she pulls it off, throwing her head … and a curtain of long white hair comes spilling out.
It might be about now that it becomes clear someone has pulled a switcheroo!
*
Something seems just a -little- bit off along the way. The lack of conversation, that 'Ava' keeps herself fully suited up for the entire duration of the trip, the curious box with the bow, and in short order the music that starts playing from the other room…
Neena sloooowly backtracks to peek around the corner to see something decidedly NOT Ava-like squirming around in the albino's living room.
That was Posse's bike. That's still Posse's -armor.- Whatever's going on must have gotten the cyborg's stamp of approval..right?
"You've gotta be shitting me" Neena utters as the contraption turns into a pole stage right there in home. Oh, and Ava's hair isn't growing out THAT quickly. "Maybe later on the beer then" she decides while setting the one aside. The other one gets held against the back of the albino's neck.
A blind swipe for the bottle opener resting on the counter and Neena strolls into the room with the Not-Posse Poledancer. With an almost robotic motion which keeps her focus fully on the dancer she turns about on a heel and flops back into a chair. Boots come around to absently rest atop of the nearby table as the beer is brought forward to have the cap neatly popped and flicked aside with a musical *ting.*
Where's the real Ava hiding during all of this?
Eh. It can wait.
*
The dancer grins impishly at Domino when she realizes what is happening, when she stares and comments. Then she winks … and holy crap, this chick actually went to the effort to have a makeup-recreation of Posse's eye scar. The helmet rolls out into the floor away from her as she continues to rock and writhe, then actually lifts herself up onto the pole with just her arms … horizontal, swinging and swaying. The athleticism definitely evokes Ava, even if - gods love her - she would never put on a performance quite like this.
By the time that song ends, the dancer has inverted herself on the pole, armored legs clamped firmly around it as her long white mane whips back and forth below. Then she pushes off and flips, landing VERY solidly on the floor … as a bass-amped/metal version of One Woman Army (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09CYGk9DQTw) begins. And as she rocks, sways and glides around the living room, putting on the show, she starts pulling off parts of the armor one by one, unveiling first a mocha-skinned beauty that frankly, is almost as far from Posse-like as can be; how did curves like that fit into that armor? Yow!
Yet beneath the armor is not just bare dancer, but sandy tan and olive drab army-issue shorts, tank and web belt. And sighs quickly reveal the dancer even has replica Ava tatts on her arms, shoulder, back and opposite (normally metal) shoulder. Every one of them faithfully recreated on a much curvier, incredibly sensual package, with flashing purple - yes, purple! eyes. THe dancer is incredibly athletic, graceful, sensual, and seems to - the longer the dance goes on - pump out attraction like a cigarette does smoke.
*
As the bits of armor start to fall away Neena starts to smirk, then chuckle, then voice an "Oh my god" at how much detail has gone into replicating the cyborg's external markings. The tattoos, the -scars,- just —
One pale hand brings up her phone and takes a picture. No wait, make that a few pictures. She is sooo updating Ava's contact image later.
Then the bottle goes right back against the side of the albino's neck. The hell-possessed lady who's become allergic to anything south of 80 degrees is feeling the need to cool herself down.
If this were in a club there would be some hooting and hollering involved, one voice of many to the flashing of lights and tossing of bills onto a stage, but that all seems so crass when the action is happening in her personal space. This is a private party rather than the usual spectator sport. Maybe it's a departure for the dancer, maybe not, but for now the only sounds come from Faux-Ava working the pole and the music which keeps her in motion. The albino doesn't want to interrupt!
*
The supple and salacious dancer does not seem to mind at all the pictures taken, nor the voiced or unvoiced appreciation. She shimmies and sways, defying gravity and logic as her dance continues. Shed of the armor at last, the dancer's incredible curves are on taut display in the plastered-tight army gear. There's just something about the way she looks so like Ava, but then again nothing at all like Ava would ever be.
And somehow the dancer seems always to know exactly what move will get the biggest reaction out of Domino, even playing against that trend just to build up the tension.
And then the song changes again, as a metal cover of I Kissed a Girl comes thundering through that little speaker setup. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhvVFaxkc1w) Until now, she has kept her distance, a display for appreciation but without any real personal involvement or connection beyond the display. Now, however, she comes prowling across the floor towards Neena's perch on the sofa, shedding first one armored boot and then the other - and how she does all of that without ever losing her balance and still keep moving closer is almost beyond imagining, except for Neena's level of uncanny luck! - until she is now dancing within an arm's reach of Neena, a true lapdance unfolding as she teases, toys and twists about, until the very warmth of her flesh is dancing over Neena's nerve endings.
*
It's at that moment when the dancer is tantalizingly close and stoking an oppressive heat that a cool breath blows across Neena's ear from behind - a phantom breeze across the room. The pair might not be completely alone.
*
Whew..! Neena could really go for a drink. Oh wait — there's one already in her hand. How'd that get there? She takes a healthy swig but never loses sight of the dancer. Did Ava set this up just because of that whole 'birthday' thing or is this somehow her way of apologizing for the whole 'being thrown into a closet' ordeal?
There are questions. Questions which will prooobably take some proper shape in her brain when there aren't quite so many distractions. Christ, she hasn't seen moves like this since Lowtown, Madripoor.
As the third song begins and the dancer starts wandering closer, Neena speaks up with "Hey, you really don't..have to..we're doing this? Okay, that's cool." She's just gonna set her beer off to the side and be comfy. Private party or not, she knows the rules of engagement. Look, don't touch. That's up to the dancer to initiate.
Although she does absently rub the back of an ear. Did the air conditioning kick in?
Except that she hasn't used an A/C unit since returning from the Abyss.
Not that she's giving it a whole lot of thought.
*
Faux-Ava scoops up that bottle of beer as her gyrations continue, and she holds it over her cleavage, letting the perspiration on the bottle drip … drip … drip, running down along her skin as she arches and twists beneath the hellbino's immediate view.
Oh, they're doing this, alright. Most definitely doing this.
The dancer inches closer and closer as the dancing continues, timed perfectly with each twist and build of the song; this isn't just a dancer who puts on music and then does whatever, but instead one who actually crafts every iota of her performance to match, enhance and build upon the songs. And before long she is straddling Neena's thighs, her hair whipping around to stroke and caress her arms and maybe her face a bit; she's even careful enough to make sure it's moving slowly, a caress and never a slap or a whip.
The original I Kissed a Girl is not this long; someone put a loop in there somewhere! But when the song does finally end, the dancer is virtually hovering against Neena. And then she assumes an even slinkier pose, pure Marilyn, as the music changes again: this time a modified 'Happy Birthday', ala Kennedy's so long ago, but right at Neena. Happy Birthday, Hellbino indeed! Even the lip-quivers.
*
It's so easy to get lost in the moment. The typical and way more paranoid Neena wouldn't have let her guard down so much, but there's enough at play here that it -couldn't- have been set up by anyone other than one of the people she happens to trust. Whether the real Ava knows it or not, she's managed to remind the albino how to chill out.
The real Ava's also found someone who is very..very..talented at her art. Though when the music shifts to an actual birthday song Dom can't help it, the laughter that follows is genuine and perhaps a -little- embarrassed. "Fuck me running" she mutters with a broad eyeroll which has her looking toward the ceiling for a couple of seconds. Palms lift away from the couch as she voices a gentle "Alright, alright…" in protest but there's no energy behind the words.
The dancer is given a somewhat thoughtful, somewhat hungry look as the albino says in that same soft tone "Remind me to stop sharing personal info with that lady."
*
"Or what?" a hushed voice teases with a toasty, daring edge in the albino's ear as cool fingertips brush against her collar and begin slowly walking down her shoulder and down her chest.
*
The dancer has not spoken one word the entire time; all of this has been just the music from the phone through the portable speaker unit, and her dancing performance. Now, at last, as Ava reveals herself, Faux-Ava winks and leans in, placing a kiss on Domino's cheek … and then one just past her cheek, on Ava's. "Happy Birthday, Spot."
That done, the dancer's music shifts again, this time to Fergalicious, as she becomes increasingly more active, writhing around Domino even as she manages to peel herself out of that painted-on sand dune tan tank top.
Oh my! Hard to imagine that she's been dancing like this for over twenty minutes, and only now managed to take her top off.
And WOW, what a top!
*
Chilling out does have its limits, such as coming to realize that someone else is in her home and breathing on the back of her neck! In a skipped heartbeat Neena's hand is snapping back over that shoulder to catch the real Ava's wrist as one type of pent up energy trades places with a different one.
Not that it lasts. Just as soon as the albino gets hold of the cyborg the tension starts to disappear, the adrenal spike giving way to the earlier charge brought on by the dancer. If Ava's trigger is 'frag out!' then Neena's is being snuck up on!
"Fucking hell" she whispers before quickly adding in "I'm cool…I'm cool. Well, sort of. Just… Ah. Shutting up now."
How the hell did Ava..?
Later, Thurman.
She still hasn't actually -seen- the cyborg. She hasn't even made any attempt to do so. It's definitely the real Posse back there..and Neena's definitely now in the middle of an Ava Sandwich. Damn it's good to be lucky.
"I love you, Av. I hate you, but I love you. Your twin's kinda hot, too."
*
Neena's hand wraps around cold and unyielding carbon fiber alloy, the comfortingly unmistakable wrist of Ava's upgraded bionic arm, even still invisible and unseen. The cyborg hesitates for a startled moment when Pris finds her cheek as well as the albino's and blinks within her camouflage field. /That/ she was not expecting.
After a moment to compose herself and — oh woah, how did those fit in her armor?
"She ain't 'kinda'. Eyes front and enjoy her," the invisible woman bids with her attention pulled back where it belongs with a well-timed reveal from the dancer. Freed of Neena's grip her metal hand resumes walking its way down the albino's black cotton front, taking plenty of details as it travels.
*
"Glad you like." the saucy dancer offers with a wink and a purposeful sashay at Domino, before the dancing continues with a change of song. When Fergilicious gives way to Rhiana's 'Pour It Up', the faux-Ava definitely cranks up the lap dance portion of the program to eleven, tempting and teasing all over Domino without ever quite just rubbing against her. But the feel of her body warmth becomes a most intimate companion, and she does seem to enjoy slowly brushing that long white hair of hers against what of the hellbino she can reach.
And then, as the midpoint of the song's riff begins, she finally twists away just barely out of immediate reach … and starts unbuckling that web belt, plucking one button at a time on those shorts … and those vibrant purple silk and lace French cut bikini panties are most definitely not government issue. But the accuracy of scar replication continues unabated. A lot of work went into tonight's little game.
*
"To be fair you make it kind of easy" Neena suggests while settling back in with a faint sigh. One lady for watching, one lady for contact, and one lady in a situation which most people could only hope to be caught up in the middle of.
It's Ava's arm which gets touched once again, a gentle play of pale fingertips along the actual vet's limb. By now so much as a mis-timed breath could result in brushing against the dancer who is progressing away from olive drab in favor of purple.
"How'd you two know my favorite color," she softly asks with a chuckle. Maybe later she'll ask how long it took to imitate all of Posse's scars, too.
Soon enough this leads to another question, complete with a bit of confusion. "Why can't I see your arm, Av?" It's just -not there.- Not even within her periphery!
*
Air distorts and wavers around the albino in a heat haze given color then Ava reappears in a snap, with one metal arm draped around Neena's shoulder caught frozen on its walk down her front. "Upgrades," the bionic vet replies coyly before draping her other black-sleeved arm over the couch for comfort. Crouching behind the blue-eyed woman, she's wearing the exact same outfit as the faux-Ava dancing so tantalizing close in front of them. The only difference is, hers actually fits.
"Maybe it was a lucky guess," real-Ava teases then her metal fingers slide down the side of Neena's shirt, ensuring she stays put, an albino sandwiched between two dark beauties.
Kind of like an Oreo.
*
Wiggling hips and shimmying ensues, as the taunting and teasing faux-Ava shows off for all she's worth while slowly, sensually peeling out of those shorts. She even tosses them into Domino's lap when she is done, then whips around and resumes dancing in nothing but that scrap of purple.
Mighty firm and taut, all of that flesh. Oh my.
And then Beyonce's Partition (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZ12_E5R3qc) begins, as the dancer sashays back over and starts actually teasing and making brushing contact with both other women.
*