RE: The Cat's Meow Brothel *delicious plot and yummy smut*
It was truly amazing how silence echoed in the wake of a newcomer's entrance. With every step came the light clinking of silver links as they rustled together, adding their voice to the staccato rhythm of the man's movements. Graceful and measured, this man was most certainly a predator on the prowl.
The man stopped at a nearby mirror, chancing a glance at his own pale reflection. The mirror showed a man clad in a sweeping tattered black long coat, torn black long sleeved silk shirt, a thick chain threaded through the belt loops of a pair of black leather pants and a pair of well worn black leather boots. A mane darker than night itself framed an ivory toned face. High cheek bones and a strong but not over-imposing jaw, the man could most certainly be considered handsome. Sadly, the perfection of his visage was marred by a scar, jagged and black that ran from the center of his right eyebrow all the way down to his jaw, roughly half an inch wide. When the man closed his eyes the scar became a solid line, a marking. But then the eyes slid open, slowly revealing a pair of vivid topaz eyes with pupils so narrow they were feral and cat-like. Those thin lips of his curled back into a wicked smirk as he found himself pondering the road that had brought him here, along with just how out of place he looked.
"The Beast" was the name this man had earned in his homeland...Though, that place was far, far away now. Musings of the past lead to thoughts of home, memories of the arena. Those lips almost twisted into a savage snarl as the truth about why he was here came to mind. No, those days were gone. Gladiator no more, he would not fight for the pleasure of others. As the man stared in the mirror he realized he needed a new name.
Stranger had a nice ring to it. Yes, that would work perfectly. Leave the past behind, never speak of it and he could become somebody different. Perhaps he could even begin to use his birth name again sometime soon. How wondrous that would be!
Vallios...something he hadn't heard in years. The name given by his parents before he was sold into slavery, before he was raised to fight and die in bloodsport. This man had very little money and a future that held no promises besides another sunrise. Many came to this place for pleasure, he came for employment. Surely an establishment like this needed those with strength and cunning to ensure the "products" were kept safe.
However it had been so long since he'd enjoyed the caress of another. Perhaps, just perhaps he could afford to spend the last of his money on reclaiming some shred of his lost humanity.
And so the stranger, Vallios prowled forward to the reception desk of the establishment. Patiently he waited, wondering if this place was a "Seat yourself" kind of business, or if he'd be waited on hand and foot.
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