- paradise
rkluke:
“you see that girl right there? from behind…. damn, she looks good.” “yeah, she’s not bad. could end up being a bitch, though. look at her clothes…” “that doesn’t matter… should i talk to her? fuck, i’m tired of the stale flat ass girls you keep bringing over to our table. i’m gonna get a waiter to—”
tonight was a rarity for shon minho. normally, his nights were filled with sweaty gyrating bodies, an abundance of good weed and alcohol and at least one girl perched in his lap while the bass bounced off of the walls. but tonight was going to be a chill night, or so he convinced himself after being invited out to some upscale swanky lounge bar. it was supposed to be famous (for what?) or something, but luke wasn’t too interested in the extra fancy details. it was obvious they merely spent a few extra hours picking out the best dim lighting and candles to match the fifteen dollar cocktails on the menu. it was a waste, to be honest. the same amount of money he was spending listening to some soft house music with vocals he could never quite make out could be spent sitting at a vip table with girls pouring in and out of the seats until he found his pick.
“excuse me!” the moment grabbed the waiter’s attention, he passed over a note he managed to drunkenly scribble down in approximately twenty seconds with probably a boatload of spelling mistakes to be passed over to the girl he noticed early. she wasn’t too bad on the eyes, plus it was a possibility she was waiting for a friend or something. whatever the case might be, she could spend her time waiting next to him. his friends spent the entire night anyways calling over girls with too much plastic surgery and a lack of social skills. so now, it was his turn to show them how it was to be done. or so, how he had hoped it. what’s the worse that could happen anyways? it wasn’t as if she was a prostitute or anything, right? and the least she could say is no, which was partially hard to believe. the overall visuals weren’t too shabby at his table, plus the bottles were overflowing and it was an ample time for any female to get a free few drinks in before telling him to fuck off. he was doing her a favor…. right?
despite his friends’ overall disapproval, he turned his full attention to the female to make sure she received the note. maybe it would’ve been better if he wrote it in english…. fuck, this wasn’t the time for him to second guess himself. the moment she glanced over her shoulder, he beckoned her over with a small grin, patting the spot next to him. “come here.”
blonde hair, red nails, pink lips, miles of unbreached pale skin just waiting to be tainted by lips and hands, alike, -- the picturesque beauty of plasticity if there ever was one. serri sits alone, fingers dancing around the rim of a martini glass filled with cool liquid -- water -- the illusion of drinking had always been better than actually doing it. laying in wait, the phone tucked into her purse nestled at the corner of the bar’s edge is silent, the needed understanding of meeting a man at his requested place was in mind but where was this man? serri wasn’t one for being stood up and she had already made up her mind that if he didn’t come along in the next five minutes, whoever came up to her would have her for the night -- whether or not they knew how much she cost.
with one leg crossed across the other, the skinny stiletto of heels that were far more expensive than her asking price cuts against her ankle, a testy reaction to an impatience that was beginning to grow across her youthful appearance. slender fingers take the glass, downing the rest of the water before pushing it away, a wave of the hand saluting the bartender for another one of the sparkling gems he’d been handing her for the past half hour.
wasted time meant wasted money she could have been earning elsewhere and serri wasn’t for her precious time being a waste -- certainly she was worth more than that.
and when all seemed lost, as if god, himself, had answered serri’s atheistic prayers -- time had suddenly come to pay her back for what had been thrown away. the tap to the shoulder calls her attention, subtle shifts of the eyes and the whispered explanation reveals the napkin exchange in simple moments that turn to questionable motives. but serri was never one to wait for answers, not when questions seemed like pesky barriers to a night worth living.
so she pushes blonde hair past her shoulders, chancing her luck for a look at the man who had desired her attentions; a single glance, an unspoken command and suddenly heels were lifted, obedient in her chase, clicking across the floor before a body met with another’s; shamelessly taking his lap as her seat, innocently reasoning that she needed to get a better, more up-close look at the male.
“who are you?” she finally asks, dark doe-like eyes gaze at the man, having come all the way here -- answers were sought.
