Acetal is a fiend from beyond the grave for putting this image into my brain. And it wouldn't go away!!!!!

Scandalbroth
by ALC Punk!

She was little and blonde, not quite the normal figure comicbook women had, since it wasn't all lithe grace and elegance. She was slightly stocky, full in the bust, with a smile that broke hearts and dark blue eyes that said she'd been to Hell and come back with a new appreciation for Purgatory.

The Bouncer watched as she approached, certain she wasn't a fictive, and equally certain she wasn't a Muse. Which meant she was a Writer. Maybe.

A red dress had been painted onto her, dipping correctly over her bosom and giving a lovely view to anyone taller than she. The Bouncer looked his fill as she sauntered up to him.

"Like what ya see, handsome?" She pulled a slim silver cigarette case from her matching red-beaded purse. The slim white cylinder complemented her black elbow-length silk gloves. "Gotta light?"

"Sure." He fumbled in his pocket, producing a black lighter. He flicked it with his thumb and held it under her dangling tip. This brought his hand nearer that chest, and he breathed a little deeper, fighting down the sudden flush.

She caught his hand as he straightened, "Leaving so fast?"

"I'm afraid you are, madame." He gestured to the sign. "This isn't Thursday Night."

"Ah." She blew a cloud of smoke into the air contemplatively, then smiled from under her lashes at him, "I'm not a Writer."

He studied her hair, suddenly sure the colour came from a bottle. "Don't try to smoke-screen me, madame. I do this for a living, you know."

"I know. I'm an Archetype. The Mysteriously Attractive Blonde." She leaned into him, her hand suddenly on his arm, warm under the silk of the glove. "So tell me, how is this job treating you?"

A cough came from his chest as he attempted to remain unaware of the suddenly FAScinating view of her she'd just given him by leaning forward. "It... treats me good."

"I see." She blew another lungful of smoke to their side, "Don't it get a little... lonely?"

"Sometimes," He admitted.

"Don't ya, sometimes, want some company?"

It was a bad movie cliche, and he knew it. "Sometimes."

She chuckled, warm and low. It tugged at certain things he'd never thought could be tugged at. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't you sometimes, wanna, be bad?" She breathed into his ear--the one he'd suddenly bent down to be near her ruby red lips.

"Yes." He jumped as the admission slipped out, startled that he'd dropped his guard. But she was, she was... "You're a very bad influence on me, madame."

"Aww." She pouted, "I'm not bad, I'm just written that way."

He choked, "Madame--"

She grabbed his hand and tugged, "C'mon. Just for one night, live a little."

"I'm not allowed to."

"Now--"

"Honestly." His face twisted into a confused look. "I'm a Bouncer. I'm written this way. I'm not written to have fun."

"Ridiculous." She released his hand and planted both fists on her hips. The resulting uplift to her upper regions caused him to turn even redder, but she ignored that. "You might be one Archetype, but so am I. And, *I*," she tossed her blonde curls for emphasis, "Wanna have fun tonight. With. You."

"I am--"

"Oh, get on with it."

He blinked. The voice seemed to have come from somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. He looked down. And down. And finally spotted the speaker. It was Pinnochio, the Bouncer who belonged to the Writer's Cafe, just a hop skip and a jump down the road from the Subreality Cafe.

The little wooden doll poked a finger into his knee. "Get off with her, you big lummox. I'll watch yer post for the rest of the Eve. 'Sides, I doubt no one's gonna come in here t'night."

"Uh, I, well, I--"

"C'mon, Handsome." She grabbed his arm and tugged. He came, slowly at first, then moving at a normal gait, almost leaving her behind as he trotted up the street. "Hey, wait up!"

"I been waiting too long." He announced, grabbing her hand and tugging her against him. He leered down at her. "Way too long."

She giggled, "I can tell." She smirked. "C'mon, I know just the place." She tugged him down an alley and slithered into his arms. "Or, we could start here...."

And the rest, dear readers, is up to your capably filthy minds.

Don't even try for innocence.

-finis-

As stated before:
Bouncer - Staffie's
Subreality - Ki's, Tap's, Staffie's
Pinnochio - Yas's and Serry's
Writer's Cafe - Uh... New and Improved Model belongs to Yas and Serry.
Archetypes - Subreality's.

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© 2002 ALC Punk!