⋗ 𝖔𝖕𝖆𝖑 ⋖ 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ˣ 𝐹𝐹ᶰᶳᶠʷ

[Bunny]

𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓​ ❝Cigar smoke and some spicy scent tickled her nose as Taryn entered the main floor of Opal. The lights were lower, but bright enough that the men could easily read the paper, should they choose. It created a refined sort of ambiance that fit for a club like this one; in one word, elite. New York was an expensive city and filled with wealthy and discerning men. Opal wasn’t a gentleman’s club in the sense that there were women undressing on a stage. That wasn’t to say that the women were nuns in their clothing choices. However it was tasteful and from what Taryn understood it operated almost more like a high end brothel of sorts or perhaps an escort service. It was the money that had personally drawn her in. Eighteen and broke, short of selling her body, where else would she make this sort of money? Being one of the floor girls had appealed. Everly had recruited her and had nothing but good things to say about the men who frequented the club. Gentlemen who enjoyed spoiling a girl. Yeah, you might have to suck a few dicks and get railed, but that was just the way of things. A virgin, the idea of being with an older man, who knew his way around her body, appealed, Taryn wasn’t quite sure she was ready for that. Management had understood and with her bar-tending license, she had made for the perfect candidate for the recent opening Opel had. The heel of her shoes sunk into the plush carpet as she slowly made her way behind the bar. The four inches made her short legs look, well there was no other word for it, amazing. Little black velvet straps wrapped around her ankles, over the cashmere thigh highs stockings in the same color. That dark fabric rode her slender legs to mid-thigh and between the edge of them and the hem of her shorts were several inches of pale, creamy flesh. While she didn’t need to be half naked, it had been advised that she dress up for the position. It explained the short corduroy shorts that flared just below the swell of her ass and the black top that from the front looked modest. It covered her chest and arms, it even covered her collarbones. The back was more raring though, almost completely open with a small silken bow tied at the base of her neck. The fabric dipped so low that her entire spine was on display. A messy bun and simple, clean makeup completed the outfit. Taryn had never been a huge fan of makeup, but she did line her eyes to make the deep green of her eyes stand out in her pale face. Locks of honey blonde touching her shoulders in place and tickling the bow of her top. Taryn teased, with her outfit, giving glimpses of skin but nothing that pushed her toward the sort of things that Everly wore on the floor. An hour into her shift, she’d made close to a thousand in tips alone and was shaking a martini when someone new entered. Something about him wasn’t quite like the others. For one, most of the men were clean shaven in their smart little suits and ties. There was something more commanding about his outfit even though it seemed more relaxed. Then there were the tattoos on the side of his neck and on his hands and for a moment, Taryn wondered just how much of him was tattooed. A sweet blush touched her cheeks and she turned back to making the drink for the man before her. A smile offered to him as she poured the clear alcohol into a martini glass and topped it with an olive. “Enjoy.” Her voice was low, husky and she turned to Everly as she pranced up to her. Her top was a gauzy white, that while it hid her breasts slightly it barely did so. Her body was bare till you reached the flimsy strips of white fabric. “That is Dimitri!” She nodded to the new arrival. “Why don’t you bring him his drink. I will make a good impression.” The advice was sweet and her eyes flickered from the bubbly woman to the man who was moving to a plush leather seat. “He always gets a Black Czar.” Oddly enough, Taryn knew how to make it. “Though, be sure to use Russian vodka.” “Alright..” A Black Czar had vodka, khalua and a dash of creme de cacao. Served over ice with a luxardo cherry garnish in a highball glass. Deciding on Jewel of Russia vodka, Taryn mixed his drink and looked over at him before exhaling softly. He wasn’t the first that Everly had told her to make a drink for, but there was something about this man that seemed to draw her more than the others. Carpet prevented her heels from making any noise as she approached him with his drink on a small silver tray. “Evening. Everly asked me to bring your usual.” She lowered some, offering him the drink. In comparison, Taryn was tiny. Five feet without her heels, she was only five four in them. Her smile was shy and her green eyes lifted to meet his startling blue ones. Her mouth opened for a moment and her cheeks heated as he took the drink. The moment he had his drink, Taryn retreated like a coward. Happy that she’d at least not squeaked as he’d smiled at her. She was young, there was no doubt but she wasn’t some silly girl in high school for fucks sake…​

 

[Father Figure]

“Loyalty is earned, not given. But betrayal…betrayal is paid for in blood. Remember that before you ask me for trust.”​ ❝ Dimitri Petrov was the kind of man who commanded a room with his mere presence. He was built like a fortress, with the kind of strength that did not require flashy displays or unnecessary words. His frame was solid, but lean, the body of a man who had learned the value of endurance. His eyes blue eyes were unsettling, intense, as if he were constantly measuring everything and everyone around him. And rightly so, because tattooed into his flesh was a history replete with violence. A past that was deeply entwined with the Russian mafia, his blood almost as valuable as his loyalty. Born in St. Petersburg, in a city steeped in crime, this man had learned the rules of survival from an early age. His Uncle, a high-ranking member of the mafia, had taken him under his wing, teaching him everything he needed to know from how to read people to brutally carrying out orders to kill. By the time he was in his twenties, Dimitri had already earned a reputation as a man who could solve problems, and it was those skill in "persuasion" that had earned him respect, quickly rising through the ranks with a cold-blooded drive to excel. It was not long before his connections extended far beyond Russia, and he came to the States as a front man for the family. And it was easy to see why as Taryn got closer to him, his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones hinted at his Slavic heritage, hardened by a lifetime that had demanded ruthlessness. Dimitri was an animal wearing a suit. He leaned back in his chair, allowing the tiniest of smiles to touch his lips, just enough to reflect his mood but not enough to soften his edges as he observed the room through the haze of cigar smoke that deliberately hung around him. The flickering amber glow of the low lights kept his face a study in shadows. The polished ambiance of Club Opal suited him. Refined, yet with an edge that only the privileged could afford. Men who had earned their place through power, influence, and sometimes violence. And unlike the clean-shaven businessmen who dotted the room, Dimitri's tattoos made it clear that he belongs to a different sort of elite. There was a small entourage around him, enough to keep the area secure but not obtrusive. A man behind him, leaning against the wall with a watchful gaze. A couple of his muscle at a nearby table, not fit to sit with the boss who preferred to take his evenings alone. It was enough of an impression that it signaled not just anyone was welcome to get near Dimitri. He watched as Taryn approached him with her careful, timid steps, her green eyes wide as she blushed. There was no need to bother the young woman, though she certainly drew his eyes. Her hair gathered in a loose, honeyed bun. Young and delicate, and new by the look of it. Innocent maybe, but nobody stayed innocent for long once they started working at the Opal. His fingers reached out to take his drink noticing that there was the smallest tremor in her hands, and he deliberately raised the glass to her as he spoke. "Spasibo," he said. Letting the Russian word hang in the air, watching to see if she understood or simply let it pass. She was a tiny thing, but Dimitri never let down his guard simply because someone was small. Anyone could be killed, and even someone as diminutive as Taryn could be a killer with proper incentive. Taking a sip of his drink, he savored the cocktail, and as she began to step away, he interrupted her retreat with a suggestion. Though they both knew it was a well-dressed order. "You may bring me another, if you wish." His voice was low, almost a purr, as he leaned back again, his gaze driving away from her. Dismissive, but purposeful. A silent cue that he was not in control of her time and her attention.​

 

[Bunny]

𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓​ ❝Thank you. His accent was distinct and the word was one of the few Russian words she knew. “You are welcome,” the words were soft and as she turned to flee, he paused the retreat with a suggestion. It wasn’t really a suggestion, not by this man and not in a place like this. Taryn was young, decidedly so, but foolish? No. “Of course, sir.” And then she made her retreat. Her bare back offered to him as she moved back to the bar. The entourage that Dimitri had was not completely unusual but it also wasn’t quite the norm either. Other men came with a friend or two, maybe a woman on their arm. A few had bodyguards, but they too were more rare. Dangerous men were not all the same, but many held an air of it around them. It was something Taryn had learned early in life. Such lessons were never pleasant, how could they be? A wife beaten or an older brother thrown around? Scars were not always physical. Taryn though had both. Dimitri and his men had that sort of air around them. Something that just screamed.. Danger. It was the same with other bodyguards. Not many would see them for what they were, but a life of pain or violence could make the signs easier to pick up on An hour slowly slipped by and from time to time, he’d find her looking at him. Was she looking because she found him handsome? Was she an assassin? Was there something else that drew her eye? Two of the three were correct. First and foremost, she was waiting to see when he’d need another drink. Men here didn't seem like they’d like to wait and Taryn felt like great service was part of the parcel. The other half? Well, he was indeed a handsome man. She could have tried to deny it, but it would have been pointless. As he neared the end of his drink, she approached with another drink in hand. If she were smart, she might have tried to avoid him. To have Everly bring his drink or to have simply ignored the order. That would have been smart. Something that Taryn would have said she was. Smart enough to listen to the little voice in the back of her mind that told her that Dimitri was dangerous. After all, the most dangerous man was one who listens, thinks and observes. The quote came filtering back from some random bank of her mind. Bruce lee. With the way Dimitri observed the room, it was like a lord overlooking his fiefdom. The drink was offered and after a moment, she sat on the chair beside him. Everly had explained the way that Opal worked, and such a request was perhaps a request for some of her time as well. A leg curled under her rear, the other heel pressed to the floor. It wasn’t an elegant way to sit, but it was exactly who she was. “Vashe zdorov'ye” she offered, nodding to the drink, her smile shy. “One of the handful of things I know how to say in Russian,” she admitted, her hands folding in her lap. It had been made clear she didn’t have to sleep with any of the patrons, or else, Taryn wouldn’t have worked there, so she wasn’t nervous about that aspect at least. He was though, the first to ask for her company. ​

 

[Father Figure]

“Loyalty is earned, not given. But betrayal…betrayal is paid for in blood. Remember that before you ask me for trust.”​ ❝Dimitri took the fresh drink from the young woman’s hand, his blue eyes narrowing as he watched her settle beside him. The casual way she tucked one leg beneath her was a stark contract to the calculated elegance most women employed around him. It was certainly amusing. She was young, no doubt inexperienced in matters that filled his day-to-day world, but there was something about her natural honest and innocence. It was not naivety though; Dimitri would have bet on that. The young woman had seen hardship, and it was clear in the slight guardedness behind her shy smile. The salute she gave him rolled off her tongue with an endearing awkwardness, and Dimitri raised his glass in return, his expression unreadable, before taking a deliberate. If the man had considered her a threat to his life, would he have done so when stereotypically poison was a woman’s murder weapon of choice? Or was it more to the point that even if she was, he showed no fear in the face of her or others, laughing at Death. Proving that it had no power over a man such as he. In a way that was what the young woman was doing as well, confronting her nervousness, and sitting down next to an individual she certainly suspected to be dangerous. He could respect that. “To your health,” he replied in English, the Russian accent making it sound exotic, but as he spoke there was a brief pause and he reached into his suit pocket, drawing out his phone. “Stay, Keep me company,” he offhandedly said as he looked at his screen. It was not a request, it was an expectation, the tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. His behavior was off putting, but at least he was not dismissive of her. At least there was some show of consideration paid to the fact of her existence even if he dealt with something else. The glow of the screen reflected briefly in his cold, pale eyes as he scanned whatever message had been sent. Whatever he read there drew a subtle shift in his demeanor, his fingers tightening around the phone before he sat it down on the table, a small thud accompanying the act; a small frown shadowing his face, there and gone in an instant. Without a word he gestured for the man standing a few paces behind him. The bodyguard stepped forward, and Dimitri leaned back just enough to speak, murmuring something low in Russian, the words too soft for anyone but the other man to catch. The bodyguard nodded once, his expression unreadable, before slipping away from the VIP section to attend to whatever might have perturbed his boss. As the other man left, Dimitri’s gaze drifted around the room with the calculated ease of a predator ensuring his territory remained secure. One of his men at the nearby table caught his eye and gave a slight nod to him. No threads, for now, and with that established Dimitri returned his attention to Taryn, his drink in hand, as if nothing whatsoever had happened to ruffle his feathers. “You are new here,” he added, his voice a little softer and barely heard, though no less commanding. He tilted his head, as if examining her more closely. “What brings you to a place like this? The money, da, I am sure…but you seem too…fresh for this kind of life.” And now the young woman had more than his passing fascination, but she had his full attention. A hammer blow of focus that put her under the microscope, dissecting her in an instant. And the way his eyes traced along the slim frame before him, it seemed as if Dimitri Petroc was appreciating what was on display.​