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Tell Me Lies (Alivs&Malicious)

Malicious Lullaby

Malicious Lullaby

Pulsar
Joined
Jan 9, 2009
Location
On my knees, in between his legs.
It was a nightmare. One she didn’t understand but she had to appear happy for the new couple. It didn’t make sense and it hadn’t even been that long since her mother died. Not even a year and already her father was marrying some tramp that was just a couple of years older than her? It didn’t make sense, not to mention she never took her father as someone who would marry someone half his age. But there she stood, wearing a deep red frock and sipping a glass of champagne in honor of the happy couple, smiling as if she actually meant it. She didn’t. But what could she say against Harold Mulligan, billionaire and CEO of a manufacturing company, a business developed by his grandfather, old money and every power and status fortune hunters sought out with passion and desire. Who was she? Cassie Mulligan, his twenty-three year old daughter who was resenting having to look at his new tramp-bimbo-gold-digging-wife as her step-mother. Her name was Anastasia. She was beautiful, blonde and had a figure that could make men turn their heads and a gaze that would stop men in their tracks. She snatched her father up when they met at her mother’s funeral. Now here they were, married and enjoying the attention at their wedding reception.

It’s not like she had a scowl on her face. No, she played the part well of a loving daughter who was so excited for her father’s new marriage and new wife. No one would ever think she was miserable on the inside and actually found this entire sordid affair embarrassing. It left a bad taste in her mouth, hence why she was on her third glass of champagne and the appetizers hadn’t even gone around. Turning, she downed the rest of her glass and sat down at the open bar. At least he did right in that department; deciding to have an open bar.

Aside from being the only child of Harold Mulligan and heiress to his fortune and company, Cassie loved art. She loved to draw, she loved to paint, and she was actually really quite talented. She even sold some paintings and managed to open up her own gallery which housed some nice traffic. She was a growing name though her connection with her father and because she was a Mulligan, helped a lot. It didn’t make her any less talented though but people always loved a brand.
The red frock she wore wasn’t actually a frock. It was quite a beautiful dress with a low neck that teased the eye with the amount of cleavage displayed there though quite elegantly displayed and it was a full length sheer dress. There was a slit on both sides that came to mid thigh and it was a nice conforming piece. The deep red flattered her well. With a soft and healthy complexion, blue eyes that seemed all too big for her face but completed her look and strawberry blonde hair, Cassie Mulligan was a beautiful girl. She was often featured in magazines though not in the same section as Paris Hilton—thank god!—and was well known. Except she didn’t act like a typical heiress and her escape for solace was her gallery rather than a salon or a mani/pedi. And right now, she was happily getting sloshed, anything to make this process of appearing as the happy daughter with a new mom all the less painful.

If she could wear a sign that said ‘Shoot me now’ and not get in trouble for it, she totally would.
 
It was a dream. A field of people all seeming to be endlessly happy for the new couple. And why not? She'd landed herself a rich one, and he'd landed himself a fine trophy wife. What wasn't to like? It was a picture perfect example of the social eilte getting everything they wanted.

It was enough to gag a maggot.

Smiling, and stepping around the glances of yet another patch of admiting female glances, Strykaar stepped to teh bar, and ordered another wine. He was not overly tall, but standing at a solid five foot nine, no one found him overly short either. He had raven black hair that shone with a healthy glow, it was clear he had either a healthy respect for his hair, or was simply very fortunate. His skin was clear, with a lightly tanned look. Not enough to really weather him, but enough that he didn't seem pale. His eyes were a startlingly deep green, ones that were impossible to miss, and one could get lost in. Elegant, long fingered hands took the wine glance with surprising dexterity, and he panned his eyes around the room, settling on one woman. He smiled as he appraoched.

"You know...I didn't expect to see someone else here who looked so very much like they would rather be getting dental surgery than be a part of this reception." He sai quietly to her as he stopped beside her. He gave her a half smile, and winked.
 
Thankfully, Cassie was only on her fourth glass, but she was no longer on champagne. She had moved to wine, the liquid that was like all kind of liquor to her. A bottle of this and she just might be swinging upside down from the chandelier, really livening up the party of the doting couple. No, if anything, she was sipping like a lady and winding down. After all, she was going to have to put up with them and their new marriage and trying not to gag around every corner. Really, she did not exactly need to see her fifty year old father being all lovey-dovey—mostly groping—his new wife. She hardly liked to see him do that with her mother, she didn’t need to see it now especially. She only tolerated it when it was her mother because well, it was her mother.

Sighing a deep sigh, the smooth silk of a voice brought her out of her misery and she turned, her eyes catching onto green ones that she could stare into for hours. Naturally, she looked away immediately and set her wine glass down, her cheeks burning just a little bit as if the enchanting green gaze scalded her. Wow!

“Considering I hate the dentist, dental surgery would seem like a dream right about now.” Now that she wasn’t caught off guard by a really handsome fellow. Turning, Cassie looked at her father and Anastasia and then back at the stranger. “It’s sickening.” She spoke so softly. “You’re a man. What do you think would possess your species as to take someone half their age as their new spouse?”
 
"Well, if I were to do something like that, I'd be dating a 13 year old girl, and that would make me a terrible terrible man." He winked as he spoke to her, a small smile on his face. He looked at the couple. He took on a thoughtful pose. "One might think that as a man gets into his twilight years, he looks for youth in his mate to find ways of feeling young, maybe trying to recapture his youth. Perhaps he wants a younger mate to ensure someone is around when he's gone, and his daughter isn't left alone. Paternal concern and all that." He took another drink. "Or he might just really like sticking it in young blondes."

It was a little more...flippant than he normall was, but between alcohol, and the fact that a good sense of humour was usually almost required when it came to dealing with artists. He had taken the time to get a look at the young heiress. She carried herself very well at the party, despite the amount she'd been drinking. The bride might be the prize catch, but the daughter was certainly a fine catch as well.
 
She snorted and looked back to him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She heard that wasn’t a very nice thing. As he spoke and enlightened as to why her brilliant father would be like every other aging man and take a wife half his age, she sipped her wine. And then she felt like she was going to be sick. “He’s cute and blunt. I might just be sick.” Because the last thing she had wanted was the image of her father giving it to his young blonde bimbo. Hey, at least she had cause to drink until she was so plastered, she didn’t know anything. Now she was going to drink even more to rid her mind of the unpleasant image that was now forever burned. Pure carnal satisfaction. Gag worthy.

Downing the rest of her white wine, she placed the empty wine glass on the bar top and turned to him. “You should buy me another drink because of that.” Even if it was open bar.
 
"Ah, you are right. That was rather...crass of me. So by all means." Strykaar escorted her to the bar. He leaned on the counter. "I knkow you're hiding it back there. I'd like two glasses of the Chianti. The good one that's hiding behnind the four bottles of house wine on the shelf." The tender shifted.
"Sir, that's not on the open bar list. And it's a seventy year old bottle worth a thousand dollars." THe tender said slowly, as though trying to think of a reason to not open it. Strykaar nooded, and slid of a single bill, sliding across the counter.
"Then we'll take the bottle." The man looked at the thousand dollar bill, shurgged, and retrieved the bottle. Strykaar filched a corkscrew, and walked from teh bar with Caassie. Once they were away, Strykaar opened the bottle, pouring them both a glass. "I do hope this might meet your satisfaction of buying you a drink."
 
She grinned. She’d let him think it was crass if he ‘bought’ her a drink for it. Although she wasn’t actually expecting him to buy her a drink. If anything, she simply thought he’d just order her another wine and pretend he bought it for her. So as they moved back to the bar, her jaw promptly fell to the ground when he ordered the really expensive wine and she gulped. No way. He certainly wasn’t kidding. And when she saw how legit that thousand dollar bill was on the table, she blinked her eyes before looking at him. Cassie was beyond stunned at the moment. Walking along with him, she took the offered glass of wine and let the aroma waft into her nose. It smelled divine. Taking a small sip from it, her free hand came over her heart and she closed her eyes. “Oh my stars.”

Opening her eyes, her gaze met his and she smiled. “I so owe you.”
“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”
 
Strykaar watched as she took a sip of the wine. Even a few glasses in, one could tell the difference between the house wine, and the Chianti. He smiled at her words.
"Think nothing of it. You asked me to buy you a drink. And so I have. That simply leaves us on even ground." He said casually. He turned the smile to her directly, and met her gaze directly. "But how can one not know you? Cassie Mulligan, whose pieces have been featured in so very many galleries, won no small amount of acclaim, and is even here now at her father's wedding?" He asked her with his smile turning to a smirk.

The wine was as good as he'd hoped it was. There was better back home, but that was a long ways away, and he'd suffice with what was here. Cassie was looking far more satisfied, even after he'd managed to plant that rather horrible image in her mind. He'd not find it appealing, and he wasn't related. Though the thought of the bride on her back was rather a nice one. Come to think of it, the thought of Cassie on her back was one he could get used to.
 
Cassie melted under that gaze and was thankful that she hadn’t really had that much to drink. Just three glasses of champagne, a glass of the house wine and now this very delicious fine wine that she was going to take it easy with, considering how expensive it was. Sure, she’s an heiress but she’s an heiress with an actual regard for the worth of money. It wasn’t expendable, despite what many people thought. Even though being a Mulligan helped gain press and public exposure to her gallery, all the money that went into it was her hard earned money, not her father’s. She wouldn’t accept that from him. She was, how do you say, branching out of that name to make a new meaning to the Mulligan name.

Speaking of the Mulligan name. Her cheeks flamed and she had to tear her gaze away from his melt-worthy one and took a small sip of her wine. “Well yeah, I did it make it perfectly clear that he’s my father. But I didn’t think you knew of my artist reputation.” She smiled graciously at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“So, you know my name. Now pray tell, what is yours? Or are you going to tell me that it’s a secret?” She teased.
 
He had to smile at how she took his compliment.
"Ah yes, my name is an unpronounceable thing, passed down through the ages, given to a chosen individual in each generation." He smiled as he finished, took a drink from his wine, and the winked. "But my mother called me Strykaar." He admitted by the end. A little theatricality went a long way in making a person laugh, and a laugh was worth a lot in a conversation.

"And of course I'm familiar with your artwork. Your third piece, Lady of Iron? It's sitting very happily on the wall in the west drawing room in the estate." He said languidly. "I've been to a few of your presentations, but never had the chance to speak to you. And now I have." He gave her a smile that made it seem as though he'd been looking forward to this for a long time.
 
A soft laugh escaped from her and she shook her head. He was a character alright but she found she liked talking to him. He was definitely easy on the eyes and he had a good sense of humor, not to mention he definitely knew how to surprise her. He wasn’t an average Joe. No, far from it in fact. And she liked that a lot.
“Strykaar.” It was a very unique name. She liked it. Seemed to fit him from what she gathered of him at least. “A pleasure to meet you.”
It struck her, not as odd, but shockingly when he told her had one of her pieces. Lady of Iron went for perhaps the most she ever earned from her pieces sold at a gallery, before she had opened her own gallery, when she was featured in prominent galleries. To know that he had been the buyer, well it through her for a loop. It was funny, because she was told that was the first painting to be sold that night and at the end of the night, it had been the highest paid one. She wanted to know who bought it but there was a stupid confidentiality between buyers and sellers. She hated that but never pushed it. The amount she made from that painting helped to go to her own gallery’s payments.

“Oh wow.” She was almost crimson red. “Can I ask? What you thought of it? I mean, I’m not fishing for anything. It’s just one of my really proud pieces of work and I always wanted to get an opinion on it. My handler told me to forget about opinions and put that one up as the featured painting that night. I never got to know what people thought of it.” It hit close to home. Lady of Iron was an homage to her mother.
 
Strykaar smiled.
"Well, for a start, I thought well enough of it that I spent more than sevety thousand dollars to get it. That should mean something." He winked as he spoke. "But I took it for specific reasons. It spoke of a kind of...strength. A compassionate strength that you don't often see in painted depictions. Strong, confident, but...strained. As though the person had weathered so much hardships that they were under some burden. But that they remained defiant. Unbowed. Unbroken. Almost...mocking the burden. Like it was just...not enough to stop her from doing what she wanted to. So that is why I bought it."

It was an impressive piece, he had to admit. He had bought it for the reasons he'd given, among others. Of course, he hadn't planned on getting into a damned bidding war over it. Victory had been costly, and part of the bidding war had been sheer poisonous spite and pride. But he'd won it.
 
First, he took her off guard by his sudden appearance at her side. Then he made her melt with just a single look and now he was stunning her to no words. The way he described what he got from the painting, the fact that he saw that too considering it was exactly what she had painted it for, why she painted it and preserving her mother…
For a moment, her eyes watered up and she bit down on her lower lip and looked away. “You hit it right on the nail.” She said softly, her voice a bit hoarse and even breaking a little bit. Clearing her throat, she took a healthy and hearty sip of her wine to clear that away. Setting the glass down, she turned. “Excuse me.” With that, Cassie lightly dabbed at the corner of her eye, careful not to smudge her make up as she made a quick beeline to the bathroom. She didn’t want to burst into tears so randomly, especially in front of a fine male specimen like Strykaar and she didn’t want to call attention to herself. No, she hated the limelight, well that kind of limelight.
 
As she beat a retreat, Strykaar took a sip of his wine. Well, that had either gone apocalyptically bad, or incredibly well. TIme would tell. He looked at the bride and groom. THey were smiling, though her smile did look just a touch forced to the trained eye. It might have had something to do with the fact that Strykaar could see the grooms hand working up her skirt. Dirty old man. She cuaght his eyes, and made a brief flick of them to the ceiling, a covert eyeroll. He toasted her, and she actually smiled at that gesture.

He lifted Cassie's glass, and carried it over to teh washroom she'd entered, leaning against the wall and waiting. He topped both of their glasses up as he waited for her. If he intruded, he'd be overbearing. Better to let her have her space for now.
 
Cassie entered into a vacant stall and she shut the door, leaning back against it. The bathroom was thankfully empty. She didn’t even need to use the restroom. But she did allow herself a moment to let the emotions she kept huddled up out. She cried a little bit. Truth was, she was so angry at her father for his choice. Marrying that gold-digging whore not even a year after her mom died? Hell, even at all?! She didn’t understand men at all. They all seemed to be vile scumbags who only thought with their cocks and nothing else. They were given a brain for a reason. Cavemen seemed smarter than the current male species. She shook her head and wiped under her eyes before walking out of the stall. No, she was going to get sloshed. It’s how people celebrated when they really wanted to cry or grieve. Get drunk. Alcohol really fixed things.

Walking out of the stall, Cassie fixed her eyeliner where she needed it and reapplied some mascara and then gloss to her lips. She rubbed her cheeks and waited a few moment so it didn’t look like she cried before slinging her little purse over her shoulder again and walking out of the bathroom. Imagine her surprise when she found Strykaar right there and holding two wine glasses. “Oh.” She said softly in her little shock the moment she walked out. “Is that for me?” She asked, referring to one of the glasses in his hand.
 
"No, I felt that I could better show my personality by drinking from two galsses at once." He said with a wink. "Of course. My apologies, I didn't mean to upset you." He said, and he did mean it. All around them people were in the movements of happy people doing happy people things, and just the two of them seemed to be content to be detatched from the entire experience. Strykaar had a thought, one that made him smile.

"Would you like to go somewhere? Just quietly slip out the door, and find a place a little les...crowded?" he offered her. He had a few places in minf that would serve his purposes well.
 
She grinned, her mood instantly uplifted. She had to give it to him. He had a wicked sense of humor and one that she found some serious harmony with. Especially considering this party was actual torture for her. Her grin turned into a genuine smile and she accepted her wine glass back, taking a sip of the deliciousness that was an amazing bottle of wine. “No no, it’s fine. You didn’t upset me. I promise.” She said softly. “It’s…” She paused and pursed her lips. “Really refreshing knowing others can see what I was trying to portray in that painting. It’s an homage to my mother.”

But enough of that. She wasn’t about to be a total Debbie-downer even if every inclination of hers was saying for her to cause a scene. No. Turning her attention back to Strykaar, Cassie smiled again and nodded her head. “I’d like that actually. Did you have some place in mind?” They were at some big fancy hotel. She’d kill her father if he actually held this ‘intimate’ affair of two hundred and fifty guests at the house.
 
"As a point of fact, I think I do." He said calmly, and lifted the wine bottle quickly, before offering his arm to her. Leading her out of the reception area, they both calmly slipped into the lobby of the vast hotel. It really was a monstrosity, but a very classy monstrosity. The elevator was all he needed, and he led them in.

"I must ask you Cassie. Do you like the stars?" He asked. This was by far the easiest of the options avaialable to him, but it was still a solid choice. And besides, if they tired of this one, there were others he could bring her to. The elevator pinged, and opened up. On an observation deck. On the roof of the mighty structure. Strykaar led her out, and they were high enough to avoid the incessant lighting of the city below them. A glittering canopy of stars shone brightly, framing a full moon.
 
Nodding her head with a beaming expression, her arm linked with his and Cassie followed him into the elevator. She stood in there with him, her eyes glued to the numbers as they went up so high. She wondered where he was taking her and that little paranoid bit of her wondered if he was taking her to her death or going to push her off the roof or something. She really hoped it was none of those but then morbidly wondered if her paintings would sell better if she was dead. That was a joke, but it never usually was a funny one to say. Though she wasn’t at all suicidal. People just assumed artists were when they joked about that.

Glancing at him, she took a tentative sip of her wine before nodding her head. “Yes, I do. Very much so. Speaking of stars, I’ve done my own rendition of Van Gough’s Starry Night.” That was a piece no one saw because it was a piece she feared the most of. How else would an art critic react when someone else did their own interpretation of a major classic piece?

Walking out of the elevator with him, she walked onto the roof with him and then branched away from him. She could see the entire city from this point but when she looked up, her breath caught in her throat. It was such a beautiful night out and since they were on one of the tallest buildings in all of the city, they could really get a great view out of it. The stars twinkled brightly and the moon looked so happy, she swore she could see its big smile. “Wow.” It truly was a beautiful night. Far more beautiful than that ghastly sight inside that was her father and his new wife.

“It’s so beautiful.” She did a bit of a twirl, slowly and the entire time she looked up at the sky. When her gaze finally fell back onto Strykaar, she giggled a little bit. “And I might not be sober anymore at all.”
 
Strykaar smiled at her words about the painting.
"Interesting! I'd love to be able to see how you interpret that paticular piece." He said calmly. He walked onto the roof with her, smiling as she took in the view. It wasn't the finest view a person could get, but then most people weren't able to get into a mountainous region. THis was gorgeous. And the view of things on the roof was certainly easy on the eyes.

He gave her a smile that showed some teeth at her comment about sober.
"A fine seventy year Chianti can do that. It sneaks up on you." He said calmly, and held his hands up, as though framing her. "A shame I never had any skill at art. Otherwise, I think I'd have a perfect shot right there." He mused quietly.
 
“Really?” She asked. “I mean I have it at my apartment.” She lived above her gallery. It was the only way she’d have it because she didn’t like the idea of not being close to work. Besides, this all happened recently, when her father started seeing Anastasia. Yeah, she needed to get out of there fast.
Although realizing that it sounded like it was an invitation. “I-I mean, I could bring it by to the gallery if you wanted to stop by some day.” Not that she’d really need to since, once more, her apartment was above the gallery.

Sipping her wine, she turned a bit towards him and smiled, tilting her head a little bit as he held his hands up in a framing way. She bit down on her lower lip and absently twirled a lock of her hair, a nervous habit. That was such a line and she was such a girl to be falling for it. “Does that line usually work? Because it’s working right now.” She laughed a little nervously.
 
Strykaar smiled.
"Now why would I offer you a line? I mean really, could you not see it? The lady in red, framed by both the skyline of the city, and the stars in the sky? How could that be anything but a perfect tableau?" He asked, sweeping himself forward, smiling to her. The way she twirled her hair, he wasn't sure if it was the wine or the night, or both, but he seemed to be creating quite an effect on her. And if he was being honest with himself, that wasn't terribly uncommon. But with her, he was planning to make sure that the impression stuck with her. He waslked past her, but ran a hand along her arm as he did, smiling to her.

"I love this spot. High enough to escape the bustle, but not so far away from the city itself. After all, I fear I am a touch too used to the comforts of civilization to properly appreciate some of the more remote place." He admitted. He gave her a smile. "And what of you? Does the city hold her sway with you, or are you more for the mountains and forests of the lands?" He asked her.
 
Well then, that was certainly something she wasn’t expecting. Was this guy who was unbelievably gorgeous, like a sex god on a stick, really complimenting her? Cassie was a bit floored and couldn’t help the rosy color that flushed her cheeks. She hastily took a sip of her wine to try and calm herself down. It helped. A little it, at least keeping things temporarily at bay so she didn’t suddenly throw herself at him. She was very capable of that. Alcohol had that affect on her. But right now, he was having a bigger affect on her than the alcohol. If he kept saying the things he was saying…

The brush of his hand against her arm sent tingling sensations through her, like electrifying. She took in a deep breath through her nose, not obviously, and exhaling coolly. “I don’t blame you. I like the city from time to time, I mean do live here. But sometimes I miss being in the suburbs or at my father’s estate. It’s quiet. I like quiet. Although…” She snorted a little bit. “It’s a lot quieter here than at his estate, if you catch my drift.” She shuddered a little bit. Nothing like hearing her fifty year old father getting it on with his new whore to make his twenty-three year old daughter run for the hills, or in this case, the city. A good two and a half hour drive or so from them. It took a month to drown out the sounds of them in bed though. Expensive estate, you’d think her father would have had the walls insulated.
 
"Ah yes...the 'happy couple'. I can sympathize, my own family is...somewhat liberal to put it mildly. It makes for interesting family reunions I must admit though." Strykaar said with a smirk. Gods, was that putting it mildly. Most people assumed his family was insane. And they might not be too far off the mark. Cassie's father and his new bride were one thing, Strykaar's father chasing down a sixten year old servant girl to bend over a table...that was not something he'd even needed to know was possible. He did keep that from his face, as it would certainly break the mood.

"But surely it must have advatages living in the city? You are close to your gallery, are you not? I can only imagine that being so close would give you the opportunity to get a great deal of work done. Or do you find it places too many demands on you? Would you prefer teh distance from things?" He asked her, still smiling. He was learning from this. Quite a bit about her actually, and that was always something that should be done. Always know about the person you're talking to. It led to much less embarassment.
 
“Oh? Well that’s always good. Unless when you say ‘interesting family reunions’ you don’t necessarily mean the good kind.” She grinned a little bit, turning a little to lean against a railing. The alcohol was starting to take a bit of a good affect on her and she couldn’t really stand in one place for too long. She’d constantly be changing stances. And that could lead to either being face down on the ground or on her side, hell even over the edge of this building. All of which didn’t sound good. Holding her wine glass down beside her, her hand came up to brush her hair away from her face and she let the nice night air blow over her. It was relaxing and she was definitely glad for the air. It was taking affect fast. After all, she was sort of drinking on an empty stomach. Dinner hadn’t been served.

Glancing to Strykaar, a small smile played on Cassie’s face. “Oh definitely. I love being close to my gallery. I live right above it. I got a building that specifically had a studio apartment above it, as a studio, a work place. But then my dad met Anastasia and it wasn’t long before I turned half of it into a living space and the other half being my work area. Downstairs, is the gallery. I can be up in my home all day and only go down whenever someone comes in. That’s good surveillance and a little ding to notify if someone walked in.” She nodded her head, a very, very slight slur masking her words. She spoke slower and didn’t enunciate her words the way she normally did. Ah, alcohol. What an elixir.

“Besides, I’m old enough to be on my own. It just took a bit of an extra…nudge, if you want to call it that, to get me taking active charge.” She grinned again. Misery sure did love company.
 
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