ScarlettFever
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2020
- Location
- USA
Hello and welcome. I absolutely adore the written word, and I particularly enjoy writing with great partners. My favorite plots center around historical fiction, modern, and modern with a hint of fantastic. If you like writing interesting plots with some hot scenes thrown in, then check out some of my scenarios below and/or send me a private message about crafting an RP together.
A few requests:
-Be literate and care about your writing craft. I don't expect perfection because I'm not perfect. I do expect your best, and you will get mine in return.
-Be able to move the plot forward. I absolutely hate when I've put in some quality writing only to receive perfunctory and painfully dull responses that do not move the plot forward. If we're partners, we should be working together. Neither of us should do all of the work. So, jump in and get moving!
-Be communicative. If you're not enjoying the RP, let me know and give me specifics as to why. If you have a great idea to make it better, message me! If you are too busy because real life is kicking your bottom, just send me a quick note, and I'll completely understand. Please, do not just disappear. It's rude and really annoying.
I'll love you forever if...
-you come up with new, authentic ideas that I haven't read or written a thousand times.
-you keep a steady OOC chat with meaningful discussion going.
-you have a positive attitude. I promise, you'll get one in return!
-you have fun with the RP. If you get bored or frustrated with it, then we need to stop, regroup, and figure out if we should revamp or toss it.
Nope. Not happening. Nada. Uh uh.
-animals
-kids
-gore/vore
-bathroom play/lactation
-incest
-extreme torture/humiliation/degradation
-bimbofication/mind control
-unrealistic anatomies
-furry-related topics
-fan-fiction
Yes! Yes! Please, more of that! Yes! Seven! Seven! Seven!
-light bondage
-submission
-light spanking
-romance
-rough sex
-potential to get caught
and so much more...
Onward to the Scenarios
As You Wish (TAKEN)
The Viking & The Nun (TAKEN)
Salem Witch Trial
Destiny's Deadline
The Drummer's Girl_(TAKEN)
Bombs Away!
Love and Voodoo
Speakeasy Serenade
Love is Blind
Living Lies
*I will be expanding this section soon!
Current RPs in Play (writing samples)
The Sacred Ceremony
Captured By the Amazon Tribe
A few requests:
-Be literate and care about your writing craft. I don't expect perfection because I'm not perfect. I do expect your best, and you will get mine in return.
-Be able to move the plot forward. I absolutely hate when I've put in some quality writing only to receive perfunctory and painfully dull responses that do not move the plot forward. If we're partners, we should be working together. Neither of us should do all of the work. So, jump in and get moving!
-Be communicative. If you're not enjoying the RP, let me know and give me specifics as to why. If you have a great idea to make it better, message me! If you are too busy because real life is kicking your bottom, just send me a quick note, and I'll completely understand. Please, do not just disappear. It's rude and really annoying.
I'll love you forever if...
-you come up with new, authentic ideas that I haven't read or written a thousand times.
-you keep a steady OOC chat with meaningful discussion going.
-you have a positive attitude. I promise, you'll get one in return!
-you have fun with the RP. If you get bored or frustrated with it, then we need to stop, regroup, and figure out if we should revamp or toss it.
Nope. Not happening. Nada. Uh uh.
-animals
-kids
-gore/vore
-bathroom play/lactation
-incest
-extreme torture/humiliation/degradation
-bimbofication/mind control
-unrealistic anatomies
-furry-related topics
-fan-fiction
Yes! Yes! Please, more of that! Yes! Seven! Seven! Seven!
-light bondage
-submission
-light spanking
-romance
-rough sex
-potential to get caught
and so much more...
Onward to the Scenarios
YC is the heir to a family fortune and engaged to his college sweetheart. Now, his grandfather is ready to hand over the family business to YC so that he can retire (YC's father is dead). However, a week before the official exchange, his grandfather summons YC to his private island and explains that the family fortune was not built by their family's ingenuity alone. He opens a a massive safe and pulls out a lamp (or any object; it doesn't matter) and explains that the key to the family's success lies within it. He rubs the lamp, and before them is a beautiful genie (MC) with golden shackles on her wrists and ankles. She subserviently obeys the elderly gentleman's every command, ignoring YC throughout the entire process. Finally, the man gives the token to YC and says, "I wish your servitude bestowed upon my grandson." The shackles shatter, only to be replaced with new ones, and MC awaits YC's commands.
YC struggles with his newfound knowledge, and he orders MC back into the token. He returns to his home and frees MC from the token to talk to her, asking her questions, making small demands. Throughout it all, MC is wide-eyed and curious since she has not been anywhere but the small family island in generations. She begs YC to allow her to remain outside of the token for a couple of weeks to experience the world, and YC agrees. As YC gets to know MC, he is attracted to her but doesn't act on it because of his engagement. Not only that, but he has to pass her off as a cousin so that his fiancée doesn't become jealous of her staying in his home. Eventually, the attraction turns to something more, and YC must decide to keep her as his genie and financial slave or to free her on the chance that she could care for him in return.
YC struggles with his newfound knowledge, and he orders MC back into the token. He returns to his home and frees MC from the token to talk to her, asking her questions, making small demands. Throughout it all, MC is wide-eyed and curious since she has not been anywhere but the small family island in generations. She begs YC to allow her to remain outside of the token for a couple of weeks to experience the world, and YC agrees. As YC gets to know MC, he is attracted to her but doesn't act on it because of his engagement. Not only that, but he has to pass her off as a cousin so that his fiancée doesn't become jealous of her staying in his home. Eventually, the attraction turns to something more, and YC must decide to keep her as his genie and financial slave or to free her on the chance that she could care for him in return.
MC: Dalia
Age at time of captivity: 20
Year of captivity: 1512
Hair: raven colored, long, falling to waist
Eyes: brown with flecks of amber
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 120 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Personality: friendly, trusting, innocent in many way, finds joy in most situations, has a penchant for innocent mischief, intelligent
Backstory: Dalia's parents had a mixed marriage. Her father, Farooq, was a powerful djinn whose job as an immortal spirit was to rain down retribution on those who did not obey the gods' commandments. Although he took on many shapes, he preferred donning human form and mingling among the mortals who lived on earth. While doing so, he fell in love with a human--Niusha--and eloped with her. They lived together for many years, and during that time, they welcomed a daughter, Dalia, into the world. Despite his love for his family, Farooq had to them a secret from others, particularly the powerful djinn. In order to do so, he built a small cottage for Niusha on the edge of her village. Because her people did not know that she was married, when she gave birth to her daughter, they accused her of being a whore and called the child harami (bastard). Niusha taught her daughter to be brave and kind, no matter how badly others treated her. Besides they knew the truth. Farooq would visit his little family every month and spend a few days with them, and then he would leave to do his work as a djinn.
When she was eight years old, Dalia was helping her mother wash clothing at the stream when a group of children began to throw small stones at her and her mother. They yelled out harami and whore at the duo, but Niusha ignored them and continued her washing, and Dalia did the same until she saw a stone strike her mother. Furious, Dalia jumped up and raised an arm and yelled out, "May rocks fall from the sky and hit you!" Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening, and a hailstorm began to rain upon the children. They screamed and scattered, and when they were gone, Dalia lowered her arm, and the storm stopped. The ground before her was littered with small rocks.
Niusha, terrified that the children's story would destroy her family, packed traveling bundles for them and sent a message to her husband by pressing her lips to a stone necklace she wore around her neck. They traveled all night and into the next day until they found a cave to rest. That evening, Farooq arrived and gathered his small family to him. He explained to Dalia for the first time that she was unusual, the daughter of both djinn and human, and like all humans would eventually die, but like all djinn, held power within her veins. He used his magic to turn the cave into a beautiful home for his family, for he and Niusha agreed that it was too dangerous to live in a village any longer. Dalia must learn to control her newfound strength. For 12 years more, Dalia lived happily with her mother and learned from her father. Until her 20th birthday, when another powerful djinn disrupted their lives forever.
On her birthday, Dalia and Niusha were eagerly awaiting Farooq's arrival when an old man dressed in tattered rags collapsed near their home. Eager to help this poor stranger, the women carried him into their home, bathed and cleaned his wounds, and fed him nourishing soup. He was grateful but curious about these women who lived in a beautiful cavern home, asking questions and studying them with curiosity. He seemed harmless, though, so they welcomed him with their usual kindness. When Farooq arrived, however, the man stranger leapt from his cushions and his form changed to a being the women did not know but Farooq recognized. The stranger accused Farooq of breaking djinn law by breeding with a mortal and creating an abomination. His power greater than Farooq's, he sentenced Dalia's father to eternal damnation and executed Niusha. Dalia, he decreed, would live the life of a slave, and he placed gold bands on her wrists and ankles and bound her to the token her mother had worn around her neck. The owner of the token would have ownership of the girl, and she was bound to use her djinn powers for someone besides herself for they were not her right to have.
Age at time of captivity: 20
Year of captivity: 1512
Hair: raven colored, long, falling to waist
Eyes: brown with flecks of amber
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 120 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Personality: friendly, trusting, innocent in many way, finds joy in most situations, has a penchant for innocent mischief, intelligent
Backstory: Dalia's parents had a mixed marriage. Her father, Farooq, was a powerful djinn whose job as an immortal spirit was to rain down retribution on those who did not obey the gods' commandments. Although he took on many shapes, he preferred donning human form and mingling among the mortals who lived on earth. While doing so, he fell in love with a human--Niusha--and eloped with her. They lived together for many years, and during that time, they welcomed a daughter, Dalia, into the world. Despite his love for his family, Farooq had to them a secret from others, particularly the powerful djinn. In order to do so, he built a small cottage for Niusha on the edge of her village. Because her people did not know that she was married, when she gave birth to her daughter, they accused her of being a whore and called the child harami (bastard). Niusha taught her daughter to be brave and kind, no matter how badly others treated her. Besides they knew the truth. Farooq would visit his little family every month and spend a few days with them, and then he would leave to do his work as a djinn.
When she was eight years old, Dalia was helping her mother wash clothing at the stream when a group of children began to throw small stones at her and her mother. They yelled out harami and whore at the duo, but Niusha ignored them and continued her washing, and Dalia did the same until she saw a stone strike her mother. Furious, Dalia jumped up and raised an arm and yelled out, "May rocks fall from the sky and hit you!" Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening, and a hailstorm began to rain upon the children. They screamed and scattered, and when they were gone, Dalia lowered her arm, and the storm stopped. The ground before her was littered with small rocks.
Niusha, terrified that the children's story would destroy her family, packed traveling bundles for them and sent a message to her husband by pressing her lips to a stone necklace she wore around her neck. They traveled all night and into the next day until they found a cave to rest. That evening, Farooq arrived and gathered his small family to him. He explained to Dalia for the first time that she was unusual, the daughter of both djinn and human, and like all humans would eventually die, but like all djinn, held power within her veins. He used his magic to turn the cave into a beautiful home for his family, for he and Niusha agreed that it was too dangerous to live in a village any longer. Dalia must learn to control her newfound strength. For 12 years more, Dalia lived happily with her mother and learned from her father. Until her 20th birthday, when another powerful djinn disrupted their lives forever.
On her birthday, Dalia and Niusha were eagerly awaiting Farooq's arrival when an old man dressed in tattered rags collapsed near their home. Eager to help this poor stranger, the women carried him into their home, bathed and cleaned his wounds, and fed him nourishing soup. He was grateful but curious about these women who lived in a beautiful cavern home, asking questions and studying them with curiosity. He seemed harmless, though, so they welcomed him with their usual kindness. When Farooq arrived, however, the man stranger leapt from his cushions and his form changed to a being the women did not know but Farooq recognized. The stranger accused Farooq of breaking djinn law by breeding with a mortal and creating an abomination. His power greater than Farooq's, he sentenced Dalia's father to eternal damnation and executed Niusha. Dalia, he decreed, would live the life of a slave, and he placed gold bands on her wrists and ankles and bound her to the token her mother had worn around her neck. The owner of the token would have ownership of the girl, and she was bound to use her djinn powers for someone besides herself for they were not her right to have.
MC, the daughter of an aristocratic family in France, was betrothed to an old widower of great wealth who wanted a young wife to give him an heir, his first wife having saddled him with five daughters, two of whom are older than MC. She begged her father to release her from the engagement, but he was adamant that she marry Count François Villejoin and join their family lands. In response, she went on a hunger strike, so her father agreed to allow her to enter a convent and become a nun instead of marrying the man. Despite having no true calling for the being a nun, MC preferred to take the vows than to marry that odious creature, and so she went and took on the life of a novice—a nun in training.
YC is a Viking warrior who, with his band of men, are pillaging the countryside in France. They find a religious place filled with women with strange clothing, but these women are unlike others they’ve encountered in villages. They don’t scream for mercy. Instead, they kneel and prayer to their god. His men, fearful of angering the god of such women, refuse to take them as captives, and take only the few items of wealth they find in the buildings. YC is taking a golden chalice from an altar when he finds one of the curious women (MC) hiding in a cabinet. Unlike her peers, she doesn’t kneel stoically in prayer and instead fights him. He decides to take her with him as a reward for the Viking who found the most treasures. When the party is inspecting their finds, though, YC realizes that he doesn’t want to hand the woman over and wants to claim her for himself.
YC is a Viking warrior who, with his band of men, are pillaging the countryside in France. They find a religious place filled with women with strange clothing, but these women are unlike others they’ve encountered in villages. They don’t scream for mercy. Instead, they kneel and prayer to their god. His men, fearful of angering the god of such women, refuse to take them as captives, and take only the few items of wealth they find in the buildings. YC is taking a golden chalice from an altar when he finds one of the curious women (MC) hiding in a cabinet. Unlike her peers, she doesn’t kneel stoically in prayer and instead fights him. He decides to take her with him as a reward for the Viking who found the most treasures. When the party is inspecting their finds, though, YC realizes that he doesn’t want to hand the woman over and wants to claim her for himself.
Salem Witch Trial
On June 10, 1692, 20-year-old Arabella Playfer and her nephews oversaw the removal of her sister’s body from the hangman’s noose and buried her in the woods outside of Salem, Mass., praying despite the bishop’s warning that a witch did not deserve a Christian burial. That night, her brother-in-law Edward Bishop announced to Arabella that he she would become his wife the next day and help him raise his motherless children, but the girl knew he had secretly hungered for her body for years. Panicked, she fled into the night only with a small dagger and a medallion on a chain that her sister had tossed to her before she was taken to the hangman’s noose. As darkness closed around her, she soon become lost in a wooded area a few miles away, but she was soon found by a kind man (YC) who led her to his home to spend the night. His very pregnant wife and her mother lived with the man, and the younger woman welcomed Arabella with open arms, but her mother was rude and suspicious.
That night, YC’s wife goes into labor, and she struggles. Her mother and MC try to help her, but nothing can be done, and the young woman dies giving birth to her little baby (who is healthy). YC is desolate, and his mother-in-law is angry, blaming YC, MC, God, everyone for her daughter’s death. YC asks MC to stay a while longer to help take care of the baby since his mother-in-law refuses to touch the child that killed her daughter. The old woman returns to her home in a nearby town, and that’s when she learns that MC is the “missing sister of the executed witch Sarah Bishop” and is betrothed to Edward Bishop.
Meanwhile, YC begins to care for MC as they form a strange little family of necessity. When his mother-in-law returns to his quiet home in the woods with a priest and magistrates in tow and begins to accuse MC of witchcraft—killing her daughter to steal her baby and her husband—he and MC must risk everything to survive and to have a life together.
Does one/both of of them have magical powers? Do they trick the leaders? Do they flee? How do they survive?
That night, YC’s wife goes into labor, and she struggles. Her mother and MC try to help her, but nothing can be done, and the young woman dies giving birth to her little baby (who is healthy). YC is desolate, and his mother-in-law is angry, blaming YC, MC, God, everyone for her daughter’s death. YC asks MC to stay a while longer to help take care of the baby since his mother-in-law refuses to touch the child that killed her daughter. The old woman returns to her home in a nearby town, and that’s when she learns that MC is the “missing sister of the executed witch Sarah Bishop” and is betrothed to Edward Bishop.
Meanwhile, YC begins to care for MC as they form a strange little family of necessity. When his mother-in-law returns to his quiet home in the woods with a priest and magistrates in tow and begins to accuse MC of witchcraft—killing her daughter to steal her baby and her husband—he and MC must risk everything to survive and to have a life together.
Does one/both of of them have magical powers? Do they trick the leaders? Do they flee? How do they survive?
Destiny's Deadline
When Lucifer and his angels fell out of God's favor, they were cast into Hell. However, a few of them, identified as caught up by Lucifer's charismatic charm, were given a second chance. Their souls were placed into human bodies, and they had to prove themselves worthy of redemption since they once knew God personally and chose to betray Him. The caveat is that these souls must figure out their true purpose, what God's intention is for them, and successfully live human lives that God deems worthy of redemption. If they fail, they will reincarnate into new bodies, retaining some of their old memories, and trying again until they get it right. If they don't get it right, then they will be cast into Hell with Lucifer and the rest of the forsaken.
YC and MC are two such beings. They jumped on the emotion-laden bandwagon and followed the wrong leader, and now they are stuck as two, ordinary human beings...for millennia, and this reincarnation is their last one. Their first lives were in the ancient years of the world, when the earth was mostly uninhabited and the land one large mass. Their second was during ancient tribal times, when people began to speak in different tongues. Throughout the centuries, they met, disagreed, and fought. They were schoolmates, arch enemies, warriors, and neighbors. Each time, they hated one another, and each time, they died too young. Now, they are repeating the same mistakes. Meeting, fighting, and hating. Each is determined to dominate the other, to come out the victor because surely the reason they are stuck in this cycle is because they destroy one another rather than one taking the mantle of victory. But as they stare at one another, face to face, weapon to weapon, YC lowers his, struck by MC's beauty and strength, and invites her to dinner. They clique, and one date turns to two, and so on. But just as they think they are figuring out this life, ancient enemies threaten their peace.
Lucifer, it seems, will not be happy unless all of the angels who swore allegiance to him are suffering in Hell. So he sends minions to interfere with the progress YC and MC have made. Together, they must withstand these forces and overcome them because they finally understand their purpose in this human life--to love and be loved by the other.
YC and MC are two such beings. They jumped on the emotion-laden bandwagon and followed the wrong leader, and now they are stuck as two, ordinary human beings...for millennia, and this reincarnation is their last one. Their first lives were in the ancient years of the world, when the earth was mostly uninhabited and the land one large mass. Their second was during ancient tribal times, when people began to speak in different tongues. Throughout the centuries, they met, disagreed, and fought. They were schoolmates, arch enemies, warriors, and neighbors. Each time, they hated one another, and each time, they died too young. Now, they are repeating the same mistakes. Meeting, fighting, and hating. Each is determined to dominate the other, to come out the victor because surely the reason they are stuck in this cycle is because they destroy one another rather than one taking the mantle of victory. But as they stare at one another, face to face, weapon to weapon, YC lowers his, struck by MC's beauty and strength, and invites her to dinner. They clique, and one date turns to two, and so on. But just as they think they are figuring out this life, ancient enemies threaten their peace.
Lucifer, it seems, will not be happy unless all of the angels who swore allegiance to him are suffering in Hell. So he sends minions to interfere with the progress YC and MC have made. Together, they must withstand these forces and overcome them because they finally understand their purpose in this human life--to love and be loved by the other.
YC is the drummer for a rock band that shot up to stardom in the last two years. Constantly on tour, he and his bandmates have had their share of one-night stands with groupies, but something is lacking in his life, and he is having difficulty finding happiness in anything but music and books. All of the women seem the same to him, the cities are repetitive, and even his bandmates are wearing on his nerves. That all changes when he meets MC, a shy bookstore employee who helps him find a book in the small-town where the band’s tourbus broke down.
Contracting a rare disease as a child, MC lost her hearing 18 years ago, and everyone in the small town knows about her deafness and accommodates her. She works in her grandfather’s bookshop, managing it for the elderly man. YC walks in and asks for a rare book, and MC helps him find it, relying on lip reading to help him. While there, a group of female fans find him and beg for his attention, so MC helps him escape. Intrigued by MC, YC returns to the store and begins to fall for the quiet young woman, not fully realizing that she is deaf until he accidentally discovers it.
His tourbus repaired, YC returns to his busy schedule, but he can’t get MC out of his mind, and he begins writing to her, even though she doesn’t return his letters. Finally unable to quit thinking about her, he returns to the town to talk to her.
What has happened? Why hasn’t she responded?
Contracting a rare disease as a child, MC lost her hearing 18 years ago, and everyone in the small town knows about her deafness and accommodates her. She works in her grandfather’s bookshop, managing it for the elderly man. YC walks in and asks for a rare book, and MC helps him find it, relying on lip reading to help him. While there, a group of female fans find him and beg for his attention, so MC helps him escape. Intrigued by MC, YC returns to the store and begins to fall for the quiet young woman, not fully realizing that she is deaf until he accidentally discovers it.
His tourbus repaired, YC returns to his busy schedule, but he can’t get MC out of his mind, and he begins writing to her, even though she doesn’t return his letters. Finally unable to quit thinking about her, he returns to the town to talk to her.
What has happened? Why hasn’t she responded?
Bombs Away!
YC is a an older gentleman, married to his wife of 12 years, and a sergeant major in the U.S. Army stationed in France during WWII. He is one of the strategists overseeing multiple battalions of soldiers. While in Paris, he meets MC, a young woman who works in her father's bakery. There is an immediate attraction between the two, but YC fights it because of his marriage. However, circumstances keep bring the two together, and when they are stuck together in an isolated place, bunkering down while the Germans bomb the area, they give in to the heated passion that has sizzled between them since they met and have sex, fearing they won't live through the night. The next day, YC, racked with guilt, distances himself from MC, who is confused by his sudden change of behavior. Finally, he admits to her that he is married, and she is hurt and horrified that she slept with a married man. The war continues, and they are separated when YC goes to another part of France, but neither forgets about the other. And then YC receives a Dear John letter from his wife, telling him that she divorced him (she sent the paperwork) because she wanted to marry someone else. YC, feeling free, immediately shows up at the bakery to reunite with MC, only to find that the bakery has been destroyed in a bombing. Unbeknownst to him, MC is alive, having fled the bombings, and is living with her brother's family in the countryside.
Love and Voodoo
The year is 1866, a year after the U.S. Civil War ended, and Margot Delacroix lives New Orleans, Louisiana. The young woman, 18, is the niece of famed Voodoo Priestess Marie Laveau, who raised her since she was a small child after the girl’s mother—Laveau’s sister—dropped her off in the woman’s cottage years earlier. Gregoire Delacroix, a French aristocrat with business holdings in Louisiana, married Margot’s mother (Alis) after a fiery affair that left her pregnant. Threatened by the woman’s powerful sister, he married the woman and promptly adored their newborn daughter. Two years after Margot was born, Alis ran away with her latest lover, taking their daughter with her, breaking Gregoire’s heart, and the man died shortly after. Alis, impetuous in her escapades, was killed in an accident on the bayou a few years later. Since then, the priestess has raised Margot as her own.
Now, Margot is a beautiful young woman of mostly caucasian heritage, but she has some Creole mixed in her ancestry from her mother’s side, evidenced in her caramel skin tone and dark hair. She has her father’s green eyes, so she’s been told, but she inherited her aunt’s gift for power, calling on the spirits that the Voodoo Queen herself has charmed for years.
YC is newly come to New Orleans (you can build this part), and he is infatuated with a blonde beauty (Camelia Villejoin) whose family somehow survived the Civil War with their wealth and plantation home intact. Despite his efforts, the beauty has not accepted his proposals of marriage, but she does continue to encourage his courtship. Frustrated, he seeks out the powerful Voodoo priestess for a love potion, but when he arrives at her home on St. Anne Street, he finds that she is performing a ceremony on Lake Pontchartrain. Instead, he meets Margot and asks for the love potion. However, the young woman has heard the spirits tell her that she is not to give him the powerful magic because he is destined for her, not Camelia. Instead, she gives him a confidence gris-gris (charm) that enables him to be bold when he desires something.
*NOTE: We can take this in interesting directions, but I’d ultimately like it to turn into a love story between Margot and YC.
Now, Margot is a beautiful young woman of mostly caucasian heritage, but she has some Creole mixed in her ancestry from her mother’s side, evidenced in her caramel skin tone and dark hair. She has her father’s green eyes, so she’s been told, but she inherited her aunt’s gift for power, calling on the spirits that the Voodoo Queen herself has charmed for years.
YC is newly come to New Orleans (you can build this part), and he is infatuated with a blonde beauty (Camelia Villejoin) whose family somehow survived the Civil War with their wealth and plantation home intact. Despite his efforts, the beauty has not accepted his proposals of marriage, but she does continue to encourage his courtship. Frustrated, he seeks out the powerful Voodoo priestess for a love potion, but when he arrives at her home on St. Anne Street, he finds that she is performing a ceremony on Lake Pontchartrain. Instead, he meets Margot and asks for the love potion. However, the young woman has heard the spirits tell her that she is not to give him the powerful magic because he is destined for her, not Camelia. Instead, she gives him a confidence gris-gris (charm) that enables him to be bold when he desires something.
*NOTE: We can take this in interesting directions, but I’d ultimately like it to turn into a love story between Margot and YC.
Speakeasy Serenade
Set in the 1920s, YC is not a new face in the Chicago mobster network, but it is one that most people hope they will not run into. Stories told of his ruthlessness might be exaggerated, but since they only provide a shield of protection from people who might otherwise seek to destroy him, YC lets people talk. MC is a fresh import from the Deep South, brought to the Windy City by a boyfriend who promised to marry her and then promptly deserted her once he took her virginity. Her ex's father took pity on MC and offered her a job as a waitress at the place where he bartends--YC's speakeasy. MC has worked only two nights in the club, but her bumbling nervousness cause her to catch YC's attention when he decides to spend the evening in his favorite establishment. Despite MC's seeming ridiculousness, something about her calls to YC, and he decides he wants her as his submissive.
MC: Virgina "Ginny" Williams
Age: 20
Hair: blonde, unfashionably long and hits mid back, hanging in curls. She's considering cutting it to be more like the modern flappers
Eyes: deep blue
Complexion: pale with a smattering of faint freckles that she tries to hide with face powder
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 130 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Figure: hourglass
Personality: Friendly and outgoing, bubbly and kind personality; a little insecure about her appearance because she doesn't fit the current trend in beauty, which is flat chested and boyish figures; has a lot of love to give to the right man
Background: Virginia Williams is the daughter of Charles and Mildred Williams of Georgia and the younger of two children. Her older brother, Charlie, left home at 16 to work on the rails for the railroad. While on his journeys, he met Luca Aversa, an Italian immigrant with ties to the mob in Atlantic City. The duo struck up a great friendship, and Luca often visited the Williams home when he and Charlie were in the area.
When Ginny turned 16, Luca noticed that she'd turned into a pretty young woman, but respect for his friendship with her family stopped him from pursuing her until she was older. Ginny, however, only viewed Luca as a friend--an extra big brother. Ginny started dating a local boy, Thomas Smith, when she was 18. She fell quickly for his easy charm. Despite some heavy petting, they'd never gone far sexually because Ginny wanted to wait until she was married. However, on her 20th birthday, when he announced that he was moving to Chicago and wanted her to go with him, she agreed, despite her parents' pleas that she stay with them. Her promise of purity went out the window when they moved in together, and after a few weeks in the city, she returned to their small apartment to find him deep inside the neighbor woman. He kicked her out that night, and she slept on a city park bench. Exhausted and scared, she returned to Thomas's apartment the next day to pack her small suitcase. While she was there, his uncle showed up to drop off a casserole his wife had made for them. He found the girl packing and crying, and when he heard her story, he invited her to stay in the spare bedroom of his home until she could afford her own apartment. He even gave her a job waitressing at the speakeasy where he bartended.
Age: 20
Hair: blonde, unfashionably long and hits mid back, hanging in curls. She's considering cutting it to be more like the modern flappers
Eyes: deep blue
Complexion: pale with a smattering of faint freckles that she tries to hide with face powder
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 130 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Figure: hourglass
Personality: Friendly and outgoing, bubbly and kind personality; a little insecure about her appearance because she doesn't fit the current trend in beauty, which is flat chested and boyish figures; has a lot of love to give to the right man
Background: Virginia Williams is the daughter of Charles and Mildred Williams of Georgia and the younger of two children. Her older brother, Charlie, left home at 16 to work on the rails for the railroad. While on his journeys, he met Luca Aversa, an Italian immigrant with ties to the mob in Atlantic City. The duo struck up a great friendship, and Luca often visited the Williams home when he and Charlie were in the area.
When Ginny turned 16, Luca noticed that she'd turned into a pretty young woman, but respect for his friendship with her family stopped him from pursuing her until she was older. Ginny, however, only viewed Luca as a friend--an extra big brother. Ginny started dating a local boy, Thomas Smith, when she was 18. She fell quickly for his easy charm. Despite some heavy petting, they'd never gone far sexually because Ginny wanted to wait until she was married. However, on her 20th birthday, when he announced that he was moving to Chicago and wanted her to go with him, she agreed, despite her parents' pleas that she stay with them. Her promise of purity went out the window when they moved in together, and after a few weeks in the city, she returned to their small apartment to find him deep inside the neighbor woman. He kicked her out that night, and she slept on a city park bench. Exhausted and scared, she returned to Thomas's apartment the next day to pack her small suitcase. While she was there, his uncle showed up to drop off a casserole his wife had made for them. He found the girl packing and crying, and when he heard her story, he invited her to stay in the spare bedroom of his home until she could afford her own apartment. He even gave her a job waitressing at the speakeasy where he bartended.
"Order up, Ginny," called Uncle Bob through the din, and the blonde smiled and nodded, making her way through the horde of small bar tables surrounded by chairs and arms and legs. Her full hips swayed to the rhythm of the jazz band, its upbeat tempo heating her blood so that her pale complexion glowed with life and vitality. She placed her tray on the worn maple bar and paid close attention to the bartender as he named each drink he put on the tray.
"High Ball, Ward's Eight, another High Ball, Bee's Knees, and a Mary Pickford," he said, smiling at the young woman before checking on a customer seated at the bar.
The blonde lifted the tray high in the air as Betty had taught her, the drinks surprisingly heavy on her manicured hand, and she sashayed her hips as she made her way to the table.
"Heya, honey, how's about a quilt* on this cold Chicago night?" called a voice.
Ginny chuckled, winking at the elderly gentleman whom she'd quickly noticed was a regular. "You've got it, Joe," she called back, flashing her trademark grin. She had a friendly face, with big, deep blue eyes that sparkled, a dainty nose, a dusting of light freckles, and full lips that puckered into a perfect Cupid's bow that would make any silver screen starlet jealous. She wore little makeup, despite the current trend of Egyptian-inspired angles around the eyes, and the rouge on her lips was faint and discreet rather than an angry red. Her one concession to vanity was the the face powder she wore in an attempt to hide her freckles.
"Oops, almost got me there, Ginny," chuckled Betty, one of the veteran waitresses at the Capello Club, Chicago's finest and most exclusive speakeasy, as she swerved past the girl. Ginny mouthed a quick "Sorry" and arrived at her table, maneuvering the heavy tray downward with a shaky arm. She breathed a sigh of relief as she rested the tray on the small table top, hoping that the owner, Mr. Ginovisi, didn't notice.
Smiling at the table of customers, she began reciting the names of drinks as she passed them out. "Here's your High Ball," she said, placing the glass before a gentleman with a cigar clamped between his lips, "and your High Ball, sir," she said, but paused, looking at the glasses again. "Oh, wait...," she reached for the first man's drink, placing it back on her tray. She found the two that looked the same, smiling in triumph as she did so and passed those to the the man with the cigar and another man with a yellow tie. "Your High Balls, gentlemen, and the lady had a Mary Pickford," she said, happy that the pink cocktail with a cherry was easy to pick out. "And now for the Ward's Eight and the Bee's Knees," she studied the two glasses, hesitant.
One of the men took pity on her, chuckling as he grasped a glass from her hand, "I'll take the Bee's Knees, sugar. And hand the Ward's Eight to the old guy." She sighed in relief, passing the correct drink to the other man.
"Sorry about that!" she apologized, chuckling at the mixup. "I appreciate you being so nice."
"No problem, honey, we all make mistakes," the woman purred, curling up to the man who had helped her out. She placed a possessive hand on his and turned so that her breasts brushed his arm, whispering in his ear. Ginny read her message loud and clear--he was off limits! She didn't let the woman phase her, though, smiling at the rest of the table and telling them to call for her if they needed anything else.
Weaving through another set of tables, the girl caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bar and swiped an errant blonde curl from her brow. Her golden locks were twisted in a moon wreath around the bottom of her head, and she had a blue feather tucked into her hair. Sometimes she thought about cutting her hair into a sassy bob like most of the girls her age were doing, but she'd always liked her long curls, so she hesitated to do so. Holding the tray under her arm against her side, she meandered to another table, taking orders for two French 75s from the young man who was sitting alone. She didn't remark on it, but he was sweating and tugging at his collar, so she titled her head and eyed him with concern.
"You okay, sweetie?" she asked, her thick Georgia accent pouring from her lips.
He nodded, not really looking at her, and pulled out a black box. "I'm going to propose to my girlfriend, and I was hoping you could help," he said, his voice squeaking on the words.
She smiled at the man, tamping down her sadness at the reminder of her own failed relationship. "Sure, sweetie. What do you need me to do?" she asked.
He tugged the ring out of the box and held it up. "Will you put this into her glass?" he asked. "I'm going to propose to her when she notices the ring."
Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, not sure that it was a sound idea, but she nodded. "Sure, I'll put the order in and drop it into hers."
"Thanks!" he replied, his voice squeaking in excitement as he shoved the ring at her just as a young brunette with a sleek haircut and pouty lips arrived at the table and slid onto the chair beside him.
Ginny nodded and headed toward the bar to place her orders. "I need a hot toddy for Joe and two French 75s, Uncle Bob!" she called out.
"On it!" he replied, pouring whiskey into a kettle and popping it onto a small burner and adding herbs to it then popping the cork of a fresh champagne bottle for the 75s. Ginny hid a yawn behind her hand and perched on the edge of an empty stool at the corner of the bar. It had been a long night, and they had reached the point in the night when patrons entered after dinner clubs and dance halls that didn't serve alcohol had closed. The club was loud and filled with shouting and laughter, but the band played on as though they didn't even hear the noise. She watched the band's lead singer--Helen Hopper--sing to the crowd, her voice seductive and warm. Ginny sighed, wishing she had enough nerve to sing like that, but she'd never sung publicly except for with the church choir back in Georgia.
"Hiya, toots, have a drink with me," came a deep voice in her ear.
She glanced at the man, noting the thin mustache that hung onto his upper lip like a caterpillar afraid of heights, and smiled politely before responding, "Thanks, darlin', but I am on the clock!" She lifted her tray and grabbed the drinks that the bartender had placed beside her elbow and then lifted her tray and made her way to Joe.
"Hi there, Joe!" she gushed, smiling at the older man sporting an elegant top hat and spats. Joe was short for Joseph Willington III, of the Boston Willingtons, but he had a love for Chicago, jazz, and booze, so he frequented the Capello Club regularly.
"How's my favorite girl?" he replied, winking at her, his nose red from the cold outside. He was at least 75, despite his youthful charm, and Ginny had loved him the moment she met him just weeks ago.
"About the same, Joe," she replied, placing the cup of warmed, spiced whiskey in front of him.
The man picked up the cup, warming his fingers against it, and grinned at her, his long, silvery sideburns framing his boisterous face. "When are you going to let me put a manacle* on you, Virginia?" he asked, winking at the waitress.
She swallowed, thinking that everyone was talking about wedding rings but her, and then she gasped, "Excuse me, J...J...J..Joe," she stammered. "I forgot something important." Flustered, she scurried toward the bar, the drinks she carried sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the floor. Her blue Mary Jane pumps lost their grip on the wet floor just as the tray went flying, crashing with a clang followed by the sound of breaking glass, and she slid right into the chest of none other than Pauly Ginovisi, the owner of the nightclub. Instinctively, she grabbed at his shoulders, her feet slipping until she finally was able to place them firmly on the ground.
Heart pounding, she looked up at her boss, her cheeks flaming, hair askew. "M...M...Mr. Ginovisi, I'm so sorry," she apologized breathlessly. "I'll clean up this mess, sir," she said, hurrying to pick up the tray and broken shards of glass.
"Let me help, Ginny," another of the regulars said, pulling out a handkerchief to pick up a large piece of glass. A few others bent and assisted the girl, all the while assuring her that accidents happen to everyone amid her continued thanks and apologies. Betty arrived soon after with a mop and finished cleaning the mess, and Ginny returned to the bar to ask Uncle Bob to remake the drinks.
Despite being embarrassed by her clumsiness, she began digging through the pockets of her apron, searching for the young man's engagement ring. That's what had sent her back toward the bar in the first place. Surely she hadn't lost it. She flipped each pocket inside out but couldn't find it, and her heart starting pounding. She sent up a quick prayer, asking God to help her find and looked all around the bar, finally getting down on her hands and knees to search.
"There it..., no, just a gold coin," she mumbled, crawling a bit further down the bar, her curvy bottom high as she lowered her head to look closely for the ring. And then she felt a pinch, right on her butt cheek, and she squeaked, her upper body bolting upright as she turned her head.
"Looking for this, toots?" asked the man with the mustache, and Ginny sighed in relief. She stood and dusted off her knees, reaching for the gold band with the simple diamond inset. "Uh uh uh," he said, jerking his hand backward, "not without a little kiss, toots."
The girl's normally sunny disposition was being sorely tried, but she pushed through her annoyance and winked at him, "Shouldn't you be asking where my fiancé is if I'm looking around for my ring?"
The man's cocky expression faltered, and Ginny grabbed the ring from his hand, slipping around the bar to wash it. If it was going into a woman's glass of champagne, she wanted it to be clean. "Please don't let her choke on it, God," she asked because with the luck she was having, the woman would die in front of her. "Oh, and thanks for helping me find the ring," she added. She placed the drinks on her tray and dropped the ring in the one on the right before glancing at Uncle Bob.
"Second time's the charm...I hope," she mumbled. He laughed in response, and she made her way to the young couple gazing into each other's eyes, their hands locked together. She smiled, quietly placing the glasses of champagne cocktails in front of them, making certain the girl's had the ring, and sidled toward the band. "Helen, sing 'April Showers,' won't you? There's a guy who is going to propose."
The singer agreed, and then Ginny returned to the bar, informing Betty and Uncle Bob that she was taking her 10-minute break. She slipped into the powder room across the hallway from the boss's office and sank onto a cushioned sofa, resting her feet for a moment. She couldn't believe that she'd broken even more glasses. That was, what...six in the last week? She sighed, shaking her head and covering her cheeks at the memory of slamming into her boss. The man, with his dark good looks and serious face, intimidated her, even though he'd always been courteous. Something about him made her jumpy, and she didn't know why. Resigned, she took a few moments to freshen up, straightening her blue and white dress and tucking a few flyaway strands of hair into place. When she looked and felt more composed, she left the ladies' room and walked down the hallway, noticing that it seemed darker than usual. Just as she turned the corner, she felt a strong arm grab her around the waist, and a hand clamp over her mouth. Her eyes widened as the man pushed her back against the wall, and she made out the visage of the mustached man in the dim light.
"You're quite a tomato*, toots. We could have a lot of fun together," he said, his voice slick and menacing. She pushed against his chest, shaking her head. "Aw, don't be a bluenose*. Gimme a little smooch."
Heart pounding, Ginny wiggled and flailed her arms and legs, but the man seemed to anticipate her moves, flipping her around and crushing her breasts against the wall, one hand still covering her mouth as his body held her captive. She whimpered against his hand, scalding tears burning her eyes, and she felt his other hand slip below the hem of her dress, sliding up her smooth leg.
"Yeah, toots, we're gonna have a ball," he promised, his breath hot against her ear, and she struggled, praying once again for aid.
"High Ball, Ward's Eight, another High Ball, Bee's Knees, and a Mary Pickford," he said, smiling at the young woman before checking on a customer seated at the bar.
The blonde lifted the tray high in the air as Betty had taught her, the drinks surprisingly heavy on her manicured hand, and she sashayed her hips as she made her way to the table.
"Heya, honey, how's about a quilt* on this cold Chicago night?" called a voice.
Ginny chuckled, winking at the elderly gentleman whom she'd quickly noticed was a regular. "You've got it, Joe," she called back, flashing her trademark grin. She had a friendly face, with big, deep blue eyes that sparkled, a dainty nose, a dusting of light freckles, and full lips that puckered into a perfect Cupid's bow that would make any silver screen starlet jealous. She wore little makeup, despite the current trend of Egyptian-inspired angles around the eyes, and the rouge on her lips was faint and discreet rather than an angry red. Her one concession to vanity was the the face powder she wore in an attempt to hide her freckles.
"Oops, almost got me there, Ginny," chuckled Betty, one of the veteran waitresses at the Capello Club, Chicago's finest and most exclusive speakeasy, as she swerved past the girl. Ginny mouthed a quick "Sorry" and arrived at her table, maneuvering the heavy tray downward with a shaky arm. She breathed a sigh of relief as she rested the tray on the small table top, hoping that the owner, Mr. Ginovisi, didn't notice.
Smiling at the table of customers, she began reciting the names of drinks as she passed them out. "Here's your High Ball," she said, placing the glass before a gentleman with a cigar clamped between his lips, "and your High Ball, sir," she said, but paused, looking at the glasses again. "Oh, wait...," she reached for the first man's drink, placing it back on her tray. She found the two that looked the same, smiling in triumph as she did so and passed those to the the man with the cigar and another man with a yellow tie. "Your High Balls, gentlemen, and the lady had a Mary Pickford," she said, happy that the pink cocktail with a cherry was easy to pick out. "And now for the Ward's Eight and the Bee's Knees," she studied the two glasses, hesitant.
One of the men took pity on her, chuckling as he grasped a glass from her hand, "I'll take the Bee's Knees, sugar. And hand the Ward's Eight to the old guy." She sighed in relief, passing the correct drink to the other man.
"Sorry about that!" she apologized, chuckling at the mixup. "I appreciate you being so nice."
"No problem, honey, we all make mistakes," the woman purred, curling up to the man who had helped her out. She placed a possessive hand on his and turned so that her breasts brushed his arm, whispering in his ear. Ginny read her message loud and clear--he was off limits! She didn't let the woman phase her, though, smiling at the rest of the table and telling them to call for her if they needed anything else.
Weaving through another set of tables, the girl caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bar and swiped an errant blonde curl from her brow. Her golden locks were twisted in a moon wreath around the bottom of her head, and she had a blue feather tucked into her hair. Sometimes she thought about cutting her hair into a sassy bob like most of the girls her age were doing, but she'd always liked her long curls, so she hesitated to do so. Holding the tray under her arm against her side, she meandered to another table, taking orders for two French 75s from the young man who was sitting alone. She didn't remark on it, but he was sweating and tugging at his collar, so she titled her head and eyed him with concern.
"You okay, sweetie?" she asked, her thick Georgia accent pouring from her lips.
He nodded, not really looking at her, and pulled out a black box. "I'm going to propose to my girlfriend, and I was hoping you could help," he said, his voice squeaking on the words.
She smiled at the man, tamping down her sadness at the reminder of her own failed relationship. "Sure, sweetie. What do you need me to do?" she asked.
He tugged the ring out of the box and held it up. "Will you put this into her glass?" he asked. "I'm going to propose to her when she notices the ring."
Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, not sure that it was a sound idea, but she nodded. "Sure, I'll put the order in and drop it into hers."
"Thanks!" he replied, his voice squeaking in excitement as he shoved the ring at her just as a young brunette with a sleek haircut and pouty lips arrived at the table and slid onto the chair beside him.
Ginny nodded and headed toward the bar to place her orders. "I need a hot toddy for Joe and two French 75s, Uncle Bob!" she called out.
"On it!" he replied, pouring whiskey into a kettle and popping it onto a small burner and adding herbs to it then popping the cork of a fresh champagne bottle for the 75s. Ginny hid a yawn behind her hand and perched on the edge of an empty stool at the corner of the bar. It had been a long night, and they had reached the point in the night when patrons entered after dinner clubs and dance halls that didn't serve alcohol had closed. The club was loud and filled with shouting and laughter, but the band played on as though they didn't even hear the noise. She watched the band's lead singer--Helen Hopper--sing to the crowd, her voice seductive and warm. Ginny sighed, wishing she had enough nerve to sing like that, but she'd never sung publicly except for with the church choir back in Georgia.
"Hiya, toots, have a drink with me," came a deep voice in her ear.
She glanced at the man, noting the thin mustache that hung onto his upper lip like a caterpillar afraid of heights, and smiled politely before responding, "Thanks, darlin', but I am on the clock!" She lifted her tray and grabbed the drinks that the bartender had placed beside her elbow and then lifted her tray and made her way to Joe.
"Hi there, Joe!" she gushed, smiling at the older man sporting an elegant top hat and spats. Joe was short for Joseph Willington III, of the Boston Willingtons, but he had a love for Chicago, jazz, and booze, so he frequented the Capello Club regularly.
"How's my favorite girl?" he replied, winking at her, his nose red from the cold outside. He was at least 75, despite his youthful charm, and Ginny had loved him the moment she met him just weeks ago.
"About the same, Joe," she replied, placing the cup of warmed, spiced whiskey in front of him.
The man picked up the cup, warming his fingers against it, and grinned at her, his long, silvery sideburns framing his boisterous face. "When are you going to let me put a manacle* on you, Virginia?" he asked, winking at the waitress.
She swallowed, thinking that everyone was talking about wedding rings but her, and then she gasped, "Excuse me, J...J...J..Joe," she stammered. "I forgot something important." Flustered, she scurried toward the bar, the drinks she carried sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the floor. Her blue Mary Jane pumps lost their grip on the wet floor just as the tray went flying, crashing with a clang followed by the sound of breaking glass, and she slid right into the chest of none other than Pauly Ginovisi, the owner of the nightclub. Instinctively, she grabbed at his shoulders, her feet slipping until she finally was able to place them firmly on the ground.
Heart pounding, she looked up at her boss, her cheeks flaming, hair askew. "M...M...Mr. Ginovisi, I'm so sorry," she apologized breathlessly. "I'll clean up this mess, sir," she said, hurrying to pick up the tray and broken shards of glass.
"Let me help, Ginny," another of the regulars said, pulling out a handkerchief to pick up a large piece of glass. A few others bent and assisted the girl, all the while assuring her that accidents happen to everyone amid her continued thanks and apologies. Betty arrived soon after with a mop and finished cleaning the mess, and Ginny returned to the bar to ask Uncle Bob to remake the drinks.
Despite being embarrassed by her clumsiness, she began digging through the pockets of her apron, searching for the young man's engagement ring. That's what had sent her back toward the bar in the first place. Surely she hadn't lost it. She flipped each pocket inside out but couldn't find it, and her heart starting pounding. She sent up a quick prayer, asking God to help her find and looked all around the bar, finally getting down on her hands and knees to search.
"There it..., no, just a gold coin," she mumbled, crawling a bit further down the bar, her curvy bottom high as she lowered her head to look closely for the ring. And then she felt a pinch, right on her butt cheek, and she squeaked, her upper body bolting upright as she turned her head.
"Looking for this, toots?" asked the man with the mustache, and Ginny sighed in relief. She stood and dusted off her knees, reaching for the gold band with the simple diamond inset. "Uh uh uh," he said, jerking his hand backward, "not without a little kiss, toots."
The girl's normally sunny disposition was being sorely tried, but she pushed through her annoyance and winked at him, "Shouldn't you be asking where my fiancé is if I'm looking around for my ring?"
The man's cocky expression faltered, and Ginny grabbed the ring from his hand, slipping around the bar to wash it. If it was going into a woman's glass of champagne, she wanted it to be clean. "Please don't let her choke on it, God," she asked because with the luck she was having, the woman would die in front of her. "Oh, and thanks for helping me find the ring," she added. She placed the drinks on her tray and dropped the ring in the one on the right before glancing at Uncle Bob.
"Second time's the charm...I hope," she mumbled. He laughed in response, and she made her way to the young couple gazing into each other's eyes, their hands locked together. She smiled, quietly placing the glasses of champagne cocktails in front of them, making certain the girl's had the ring, and sidled toward the band. "Helen, sing 'April Showers,' won't you? There's a guy who is going to propose."
The singer agreed, and then Ginny returned to the bar, informing Betty and Uncle Bob that she was taking her 10-minute break. She slipped into the powder room across the hallway from the boss's office and sank onto a cushioned sofa, resting her feet for a moment. She couldn't believe that she'd broken even more glasses. That was, what...six in the last week? She sighed, shaking her head and covering her cheeks at the memory of slamming into her boss. The man, with his dark good looks and serious face, intimidated her, even though he'd always been courteous. Something about him made her jumpy, and she didn't know why. Resigned, she took a few moments to freshen up, straightening her blue and white dress and tucking a few flyaway strands of hair into place. When she looked and felt more composed, she left the ladies' room and walked down the hallway, noticing that it seemed darker than usual. Just as she turned the corner, she felt a strong arm grab her around the waist, and a hand clamp over her mouth. Her eyes widened as the man pushed her back against the wall, and she made out the visage of the mustached man in the dim light.
"You're quite a tomato*, toots. We could have a lot of fun together," he said, his voice slick and menacing. She pushed against his chest, shaking her head. "Aw, don't be a bluenose*. Gimme a little smooch."
Heart pounding, Ginny wiggled and flailed her arms and legs, but the man seemed to anticipate her moves, flipping her around and crushing her breasts against the wall, one hand still covering her mouth as his body held her captive. She whimpered against his hand, scalding tears burning her eyes, and she felt his other hand slip below the hem of her dress, sliding up her smooth leg.
"Yeah, toots, we're gonna have a ball," he promised, his breath hot against her ear, and she struggled, praying once again for aid.
Love is Blind
MC is dating a guy who, on paper, is perfect for her. He's kind, charming, considerate, and they have a lot in common. He's also boring and doesn't excite her in the least. However, never one to not give something a shot, she is plugging away at the relationship when a well-meaning friend dares her to join a new dating app named Love is Blind. The premise is that people are matched based on their compatibility of likes and dislikes. No photos are exchanged, but as the duo message each other and get to know each other, photographs slowly start to be revealed. They are unclear at first, but every 5 messages moves the pair to the next level, and a bit more is revealed. MC and YC begin chatting on the app and have a genuine connection. Just as both are becoming excited with the prospect of having found someone to love, their photos are revealed. MC is dating YC's son!
Living Lies
YC is an American double agent who is deep undercover in Moscow during the peak of the Cold War (late 1940s-early 1950s). MC works as a secretary for a high ranking Russian government official, a position her husband got for her. YC, engaged to another woman back home in the USA, has been wooing her to glean access to sensitive information, but when MC is accused by her boss of betraying her country and giving away sensitive government secrets, YC realizes that the pretense has become the reality, and he cares deeply for MC. He attempts to see MC, but she has disappeared.
Taking place between 1950 and 1953, then the Soviet Union was providing medical aid and supplies to the North Korean-Chinese forces against the United Nations forces. In 1950, Stalin gave North Korea permission to invade South Korea with the agreement that China would send reinforcements. However, Stalin made sure that North Korea knew that Russia would not openly engage in combat. China was hesitant to agree to these terms because they feared the USA would intervene, but because China wanted economic and military help from the Soviet Union, they agreed.
YC is in Russia on a mission to find out what exactly the Soviets were supplying to North Korea and China and how. MC's husband is in North Korea at the start of the RP because he is delivering a shipment of MiG 15 fighter jets and is teaching the forces how to use them. Perhaps YC has been working on MC for a while, but she doesn't succumb until her husband is gone. YC is charming and exciting, whereas her husband is harsh and cruel at times. When her husband returns, YC has already dropped MC and is about to leave Russia. Her husband and she learn that she is pregnant (obviously not by him, and you have no clue), so he beats her for having the affair, causing her to miscarry. When her office realizes that state secrets have been leaked, her husband quickly accuses her since she had knowledge from their marriage and from her work.
Taking place between 1950 and 1953, then the Soviet Union was providing medical aid and supplies to the North Korean-Chinese forces against the United Nations forces. In 1950, Stalin gave North Korea permission to invade South Korea with the agreement that China would send reinforcements. However, Stalin made sure that North Korea knew that Russia would not openly engage in combat. China was hesitant to agree to these terms because they feared the USA would intervene, but because China wanted economic and military help from the Soviet Union, they agreed.
YC is in Russia on a mission to find out what exactly the Soviets were supplying to North Korea and China and how. MC's husband is in North Korea at the start of the RP because he is delivering a shipment of MiG 15 fighter jets and is teaching the forces how to use them. Perhaps YC has been working on MC for a while, but she doesn't succumb until her husband is gone. YC is charming and exciting, whereas her husband is harsh and cruel at times. When her husband returns, YC has already dropped MC and is about to leave Russia. Her husband and she learn that she is pregnant (obviously not by him, and you have no clue), so he beats her for having the affair, causing her to miscarry. When her office realizes that state secrets have been leaked, her husband quickly accuses her since she had knowledge from their marriage and from her work.
MC: Irisa Morozov
Age: 26
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 130 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Hair: blonde hair, shoulder length
Eyes: gray
Personality: skittish and nervous, slightly submissive (Not the BDSM variety, just overall personality) because of her marriage, slow to trust because she's been hurt so often
Background: As the daughter of a lowly merchant in St. Petersburg, Irisa caught the eye of a an older man, a Soviet Military Specialist, when she was visiting Moscow when she was 22. After a whirlwind courtship, she married Leonid Morozov (age 45) and moved into his small apartment near the capitol. Very quickly, Irisa learned that her husband was a fierce taskmaster, demanding perfection in her clothing, hair, makeup, how she kept the house, and her cooking. When she, in his opinion, failed to give him a son or daughter during their first three years of marriage, he got her a job as a secretary for the the Minister of Foreign Affairs, stating that she should be useful to him if by bringing in more income if she couldn't give him children.
Age: 26
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 130 lbs
Breasts: D cup
Hair: blonde hair, shoulder length
Eyes: gray
Personality: skittish and nervous, slightly submissive (Not the BDSM variety, just overall personality) because of her marriage, slow to trust because she's been hurt so often
Background: As the daughter of a lowly merchant in St. Petersburg, Irisa caught the eye of a an older man, a Soviet Military Specialist, when she was visiting Moscow when she was 22. After a whirlwind courtship, she married Leonid Morozov (age 45) and moved into his small apartment near the capitol. Very quickly, Irisa learned that her husband was a fierce taskmaster, demanding perfection in her clothing, hair, makeup, how she kept the house, and her cooking. When she, in his opinion, failed to give him a son or daughter during their first three years of marriage, he got her a job as a secretary for the the Minister of Foreign Affairs, stating that she should be useful to him if by bringing in more income if she couldn't give him children.
"Look at me when I talk to you, bitch," he growled, grabbing a fistful of her blonde hair and yanking her head back, tugging it so that her neck turned and she could see him from the corner of her eye. He thrust harder, shoving his meaty cock deep inside her aching pussy, his other hand holding her hips, fingers sinking into the rumpled fabric of her dress. He pulled back slowly, her body relaxing for a moment, and he continued, "I will be gone for six months, Irisa. Don't forget to deliver the gifts I send to you directly to Dimitri. Do you understand?" he asked, pulling her hair back and stretching her neck.
The young woman winced and replied in a tearful voice, "Yes, moy muzh, I understand." She sighed in relief when her husband released her hair and grabbed her hips with both hands, lifting them to change his angle and then slid one hand up her back and pressed it down, her breasts flattening against the small kitchen table. He surged into her pussy, pumping hard and deep into her folds, and she remained still, the way he insisted on their honeymoon four years before. He did not want her touches and caresses, unless they were against his cock, and so she became lifeless under his fucking, his living doll, just as he desired.
When at last Leonid shot his seed deep inside her womb, he pulled out and put himself back into his pants, fastening them and then straightening his shirt and tie. Irisa stood, her legs wobbly, and she smoothed her skirt, feeling his seed trickle down her thighs. She wanted to cleans herself, but her husband forbade it, saying it was his right as a husband for his wife to bear his mark, whether it be from semen or a bruise because of his hand or teeth. She'd worn all three many times, and today was no different, except that it held the promise of six months of freedom. She tamped down the nudge of hope that stirred within her, not wanting him to notice her excitement at his upcoming absence.
He walked into the bedroom and returned with his suit jacket neatly buttoned and his suitcase in one hand, briefcase in the other. "I expect you to behave as you do when I am here, Irisa," he commanded, his voice stern and forbidding. "If Dimitri wishes to climb between your legs, let him, but insist he shoot his load on your breasts, not inside you." Shame washed over the young woman at her husband's word, humiliated that he had begun whoring her out to her boss because he desired the power it afforded him. "If you ever become pregnant, I want to be certain it is mine," he said matter of factly. He stopped at the door and turned to her, brushing a perfunctory kiss on her lips, and without another word, he left, closing the door behind him.
Irisa sagged, leaning against the door, rubbing her face with both hands and refusing to allow herself to cry. Jumping upright, she smiled suddenly. If she hurried, she could shower before she dressed and still make it to work on time.
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Hair coifed and makeup applied to perfection, Irisa glided into the office where she worked 45 minutes later, exactly three minutes before she had to be there. She placed her alligator-skin purse into the bottom desk drawer and removed the cover from her typewriter, turning it on to warm up. Next, she went into the kitchenette and began grinding coffee beans for Mr. Orlov--Dimitri's coffee. The man, nearly as demanding as her husband, insisted on authentic Turkish coffee, so after grinding the beans into a fine powder, she dumped it into a small copper cezve and placed it on the stove, adding a little sugar and stirring it until it was mixed. She turned on the burner and lit the gas so that soon, the mixture was boiling. She removed it from the burner, skimming the foam from the top, and added a teaspoon of sugar per cup and mixing it. She returned the cezve to the burner, letting the liquid once again come to a boil, and removed it, skimming the foam, and pouring the coffee into a dainty china cup, just as Mr. Orlov walked in.
The man went directly to his office behind her desk, and she followed, placing the cup on the center of his desk, she returned to her own and grasped a notepad, pencil, and calendar and went into his office, sitting on a chair directly across from his.
"Ah, good morning, Mrs. Morozov," the elder man said, his gray beard all but hiding his lips. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers, placing them into small stacks on his desk before sitting back in his wooden chair, the furniture groaning under his weight. Mr. Orlov was not a small man, but rotund and thick, the figure of a man accustomed to rich foods and servants to do his bidding. "I trust Leonid filled you in on his latest assignment?" he asked, implying more than he said.
She nodded, her eyes not meeting his, something she'd been unable to do in the months since her husband had invited the man to their home for dinner and sent her to please him in their bedroom. Dimitri was all that was professional during the workday, never hinting at anything else, but she sometimes felt his eyes burning through her clothing, though she dressed modestly. When he wanted access to her body, he would just show up at her apartment, and Leonid would welcome him with a loud greeting, ordering her to please the man however he wished, but reminding the man to cum outside of her pussy. Afterward, her husband would fuck her without mercy, punishing her for allowing another man access to her body, and spend himself deep inside of her. When she'd met the dashing Soviet Military Specialist while on holiday in Moscow, she never expected that her life would turn out this way.
After going through Mr. Orlov's schedule for the day and taking notes for a letter, she closed the door to the man's office and sat before the typewriter, sliding a fresh sheet of paper into the machine, and she began to work.
The young woman winced and replied in a tearful voice, "Yes, moy muzh, I understand." She sighed in relief when her husband released her hair and grabbed her hips with both hands, lifting them to change his angle and then slid one hand up her back and pressed it down, her breasts flattening against the small kitchen table. He surged into her pussy, pumping hard and deep into her folds, and she remained still, the way he insisted on their honeymoon four years before. He did not want her touches and caresses, unless they were against his cock, and so she became lifeless under his fucking, his living doll, just as he desired.
When at last Leonid shot his seed deep inside her womb, he pulled out and put himself back into his pants, fastening them and then straightening his shirt and tie. Irisa stood, her legs wobbly, and she smoothed her skirt, feeling his seed trickle down her thighs. She wanted to cleans herself, but her husband forbade it, saying it was his right as a husband for his wife to bear his mark, whether it be from semen or a bruise because of his hand or teeth. She'd worn all three many times, and today was no different, except that it held the promise of six months of freedom. She tamped down the nudge of hope that stirred within her, not wanting him to notice her excitement at his upcoming absence.
He walked into the bedroom and returned with his suit jacket neatly buttoned and his suitcase in one hand, briefcase in the other. "I expect you to behave as you do when I am here, Irisa," he commanded, his voice stern and forbidding. "If Dimitri wishes to climb between your legs, let him, but insist he shoot his load on your breasts, not inside you." Shame washed over the young woman at her husband's word, humiliated that he had begun whoring her out to her boss because he desired the power it afforded him. "If you ever become pregnant, I want to be certain it is mine," he said matter of factly. He stopped at the door and turned to her, brushing a perfunctory kiss on her lips, and without another word, he left, closing the door behind him.
Irisa sagged, leaning against the door, rubbing her face with both hands and refusing to allow herself to cry. Jumping upright, she smiled suddenly. If she hurried, she could shower before she dressed and still make it to work on time.
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Hair coifed and makeup applied to perfection, Irisa glided into the office where she worked 45 minutes later, exactly three minutes before she had to be there. She placed her alligator-skin purse into the bottom desk drawer and removed the cover from her typewriter, turning it on to warm up. Next, she went into the kitchenette and began grinding coffee beans for Mr. Orlov--Dimitri's coffee. The man, nearly as demanding as her husband, insisted on authentic Turkish coffee, so after grinding the beans into a fine powder, she dumped it into a small copper cezve and placed it on the stove, adding a little sugar and stirring it until it was mixed. She turned on the burner and lit the gas so that soon, the mixture was boiling. She removed it from the burner, skimming the foam from the top, and added a teaspoon of sugar per cup and mixing it. She returned the cezve to the burner, letting the liquid once again come to a boil, and removed it, skimming the foam, and pouring the coffee into a dainty china cup, just as Mr. Orlov walked in.
The man went directly to his office behind her desk, and she followed, placing the cup on the center of his desk, she returned to her own and grasped a notepad, pencil, and calendar and went into his office, sitting on a chair directly across from his.
"Ah, good morning, Mrs. Morozov," the elder man said, his gray beard all but hiding his lips. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers, placing them into small stacks on his desk before sitting back in his wooden chair, the furniture groaning under his weight. Mr. Orlov was not a small man, but rotund and thick, the figure of a man accustomed to rich foods and servants to do his bidding. "I trust Leonid filled you in on his latest assignment?" he asked, implying more than he said.
She nodded, her eyes not meeting his, something she'd been unable to do in the months since her husband had invited the man to their home for dinner and sent her to please him in their bedroom. Dimitri was all that was professional during the workday, never hinting at anything else, but she sometimes felt his eyes burning through her clothing, though she dressed modestly. When he wanted access to her body, he would just show up at her apartment, and Leonid would welcome him with a loud greeting, ordering her to please the man however he wished, but reminding the man to cum outside of her pussy. Afterward, her husband would fuck her without mercy, punishing her for allowing another man access to her body, and spend himself deep inside of her. When she'd met the dashing Soviet Military Specialist while on holiday in Moscow, she never expected that her life would turn out this way.
After going through Mr. Orlov's schedule for the day and taking notes for a letter, she closed the door to the man's office and sat before the typewriter, sliding a fresh sheet of paper into the machine, and she began to work.
*I will be expanding this section soon!
Current RPs in Play (writing samples)
The Sacred Ceremony
Captured By the Amazon Tribe
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