PARA: SERENDIPITY
TAGGING: Santana Lopez and Finn Hudson. LOCATION: Renaissance Hotel Lobby. TIME FRAME: Two months ago… Because I’m the worst? GENERAL NOTES/WARNINGS: Why is this so long? Idk,..but feel no need to match!
There was something making him nervous and Finn couldn’t place his finger on it. Well. That wasn’t true at all. He knew exactly why he was nervous. He was meeting an escort. He never saw himself as that type of guy, and he was sure that no one that truly knew him would ever see him as this type of guy either. He kept justifying it in his head. That he was only using her to make Rachel and everyone else see that he was better off now that he lived away from Lima and he had a real job. He could get a hot girl.
And this girl was hot. Sure, he hadn’t seen her face, but the way her body looked was absolutely incredible. And she turned him on. A little more than he wanted to admit, but she had a way with words. Maybe his flirting skills weren’t exactly up to par with hers, but he liked to think that he turned her on a little bit too. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. That she did actually think he was hot. It didn’t feel much different from normal flirting. Sure. If they hooked up at this meet up then he was paying her for sex, but still, it didn’t feel all that wrong.
He had chosen on the meet up place being a hotel lobby. A little presumptuous? Maybe. But he also didn’t want to bring her to his place just in case she ended up being a murderer or something. Not that he thought she would be, but you never know these days. He found a seat at the bar and ordered a bourbon, while he tapped his fingers down nervously. She was a little late, but he was used to waiting for girls to show up. Rachel was always late. And don’t even get him started on Quinn. She was the queen of being fashionably late. He took a long sip of the drink before placing it back down in front of him. Hoping he’d notice the girl when she walked in. He told her where he was going to be, sitting at the bar, so he figured she’d probably spot him before he spotted her.
SANTANA LOPEZ:
Santana was currently walking down the street, looking crazy, and getting crazy looks. It wasn't because of the way she was dressed, oh no, that warranted staring, but for an entirely different reason. Like the skin tight nude spaghetti strapped dress she was wearing - or some might say shirt, but whether it was one or most likely the other; she looked hot. That was the point over all, to look good, and let her body do most of the talking. For example, her breast; large, perky, and just jiggly enough while they bounced around bra-less said the he- LLO to her client before she even sat down; her lips, plenty full, and mighty pouty, are smeared with a hot red lipstick, that usually coerced a, ‘how much?’ from her client, and her eyes, framed by her long eye lashes were dark as a moonless night, but always wide, and curiously innocent would say, ‘I’ll be anything you want me to be”, which usually lead to her clients giving her anything she wanted.
Which leads back to why she currently looked crazy. Because she was doing a pre-meet up ritual: walking down the street with her fingers crossed, brows rippled in deep concentration as she chanted: ‘tom hardy, tom hardy, tom hardy.’ A ritual that has brought her zero luck on the Tom Hardy front, but some of the best paying clients since she randomly started doing it one day - if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
And since she’s only a few grand away from reaching her goal to purchase her DREAM vintage Dolce dress, that saying was more relevant then ever. Because unlike most of Santana’s friends who were saving up to buy a home, or a car, or (hopefully) a clue; she was saving up for her latest fashion splurge. Not only because she didn’t want a home, already had a car (thanks to client #10), and had clues before teeth, but because her lifestyle enabled her to save up for the finer things in life.
Santana has made it, despite her friends from high schools doubts. She’s rich, sexcusful, and NOT on a pole. But what no one knows is it’s not a pole she made it on, but a variation of ‘poles’ (depending on the client) and men keeping her luxury life afloat.
Despite what Santana was sure would be a lot of stunned gasp, cries of horror, and, ‘how did all the singing not help her?!’, if she was honest about her career path, Santana liked her job. Ya, it could get messy - literally. And sometimes she had to play arm candy to some fat chump, or play therapist to men with receding hairlines and snooze worthy marital problems, but all in all, she enjoyed getting what she wants, when she wants, and all because she’s hot. It was like Christmas morning every day for her fragile ego when men were offering her the most extravagant things just to bring her to a party. She was unbelievably, and superficially happy.
So after transitioning from crazy chanting, back to her sensational strut, she stopped to check her reflection before entering the hotel. The location he chose made her snicker and roll her eyes as her hands smoothed over the loose bun her long black hair was tied into. A few loose strands fell and framed her face. The simple up do brought a softness to the abundant amount of sex appeal in her outfit. Not to mention, it further enabled her tinsy dress, and impeccable body to shine.
Finally done checking herself out, she walked into the bar and began to seek out her client. Immediately, her eyes fell to the tall man at the bar, with short brown hair, and from what she could tell by just seeing his back, a nice body - pictures didn’t lie in his case. A wicked smile slipped onto her lips as she began to head over to him. When she was near her fingers dragged across his back and rested softly on his shoulders as she effortlessly slipped into the seat next to him. Long legs in six inch heels crossed as her eyes rose to finally settle on his handsome, but familiar face....
- Finn! Her eyes dramatically widened into shock. “Finn?” she asked, as if still not convinced it was Finn - except grown up, and really, really hot version. Oh, and a version of Finn that was sitting and wearing the exact same thing her date said he would be in....uh oh.
Again, her emotions processed and her face projected most of it. Was this some sick joke? Did he know it was her the whole time? Did her get her hear to laugh at her? As she asked herself these questions her features were squirming into a scowl. Slender arms folded beneath her breast tightly. “Are you...” she stopped herself, and took a deep breath, “what are you doing here?” She asked in the calmest way possible.
