Beneath With Me [Temptationist x GrinningGentleman]

[Temptationist]

Beneath With Me

Club LUSH is one of the most infamous underground super clubs buried in the ever-growing black market of Coruscant. Having now become a center haven for illegal activity and unlawful negotiations, it is a high-end night club and bar harboring customers from crooks, to criminals, to even corrupt politicians. Club LUSH had them all. Despite its flagrant reputation, it is deemed virtually untouchable; protected by its bound criminal ties and cemented fortunes. Many called it "illegally legal", but still, it grew from a hole in the wall to a glorious empire. Now reigned as a multi-facet establishment, the building contained several floors. The main floor Level 1, or "LUSH LOUNGE", was the main point of entry of the building which was a sort of more relaxed, lounging area. This floor also contained a reception desk which allowed for check in and check out of the Club for all related visitors, as well as special access to LUSH hotel rooms (available only to wealthy and prestigious individuals as well as VIP members). Level 2-5 are all floor providing an assortment of different hotel rooms and private rooms. Level 6 was LUX PENTHOUSE, a quieter and much more luxurious lounge and bar that also provided gambling. Only VIP members were granted access to this area, which was not only extremely exclusive but also private. Most criminal activities and political corruptions took place on this level. It was a safe playground for all major underground business deals. Though, probably the most public business was the lower level basement. Ground Zero or more well known as the "DUNGEON", was an underground electronic night club. It employed dozens of artists of various talents, from your typical exotic pole dancers and club singers, to aerial artists and accomplished musical groups - there was entertainment to suit many tastes. Although the LUSH may look polished to the club-hungry outsider, it was a dark places; operating at the hands of a monster. To him, I was not an entertainer... I was a slave; property.

AS SKILLED WITH HER VOICE AS SHE IS WITH HER HIPS​

The papers' headlines read; completely belittling my being to just an object of desire. To happy-go-lucky paying customers, I was capable of rendering even the strongest of men completely smitten. Although locally acclaimed, many would assume that my status as a low-time underworld celebrity was in good taste. Bound by the silence of my invisible shackles, I was not a free woman. Grim, the owner of Club LUSH and a notorious drug-lord, loved to watch me perform.

"You promised me this would be my last!" I argued with him as he sat laid back in the shadows of his office, practically fabricated entirely out of gold. "The revenue the Dungeon shit show alone has generated is double the amount remaining on my debt. I've earned my freedom."

There was silence, then two puffs of smoke from his cigarette that seeped from his devious lips and polluted the air in the room. His grinning smile was enough to send shivers down any person's shine. Even the strongest of men felt sick with just one wicked glance from the eyes of the infamous Grim. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, emitting the most diabolical hysteria I had ever seen. "Freedom?" He spat back in my face. "You've become a star here, Gypsy." The name made me cringe. It was the very nickname that cemented by dreaded fate in this hellbound establishment. "Your debt is paid, it's true. But if you leave, my biggest asset will be lost. I will lose revenue... and that darling... That will be on you."

My mouth dropped as my eyes widened at his twisted sense of logic. He continued. "You don't think I can forgive such a defacement of my business, do you? No, you see..." He took another whiff of his fag before taking the drag in between his index and thumb. He faced the cigarette down, as if to put it out, and right when he did so, two guards lunged for me, forcing my chest forward onto the table. One guard pinned my head on the table, making me look up to the one man I hated most in this world. The second guard forced my hand out as an offering to him. Grim grinned, "... You're mine." Grim pushed the lit butt of the cigarette into my palm, using my flesh as a personal ashtray. I yelped out as the drag seared my skin. Marking me permanently, Grim leaned in a whispered in my ear. "... You'll always be mine."

[ * * * ]​

It was a wild Saturday night in the busy lower streets of Coruscant. The dark streets, infinitely untouched by sunlight, were illuminated solely on bright neons and foggy street lights. The sound of muffle music could be heard blaring from multiple establishments amidst downtown nightlife. But the most popular and prominent business was none other than Club LUSH. The place had a lineup that encircled the entire block, with mostly VIPs and other important persons making it in while the rest of mediocre and unimportant citizens waited patiently for a chance of entry. Tonight was DUNGEON DJ Night, a massive blowout electro party in the underground sector of the club. The event catered to a younger demographic, with blasting electronic music all revolving around a "break free" theme. The irony was especially painful for the dancers, singers, and virtually any female employee who had become indebted to Grim. We were not free. We would never be free.

With the tables all pushed to the back to make room for a gigantic dance floor, the DJ was spinning and the club was alive. The music so loud it practically slapped you, the energy in the club was unmatched and electric. Performing was the only sense of relief I got from this unfortunate fate. For only a brief moment, while leading a mass of party goers to their happy places, could I experience a small, fractured glimpse of freedom. "I WANNA SEE YOU BREAK FREEEE!" Jumping up and down to build up the crowd, every single member on the dance floor had their hands up in the air, jumping, screaming, and singing with me as the DJ pumped the song, Dance Without You, to my vocals.

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So serious, all the time
I feel restrained.
I feel confined.
I cannot take your whispering, your whispering

I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
For once let me lose myself

So insecure, so uptight
I break my neck, to be polite
I cannot take your whispering, your whispering

I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
For once let me lose myself

How can I make history, with your choreography?
Take your hands off me, Take your hands off me
Before I suffocate

I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself lose myself
For once let me lose myself

Although I was a slave, my skimpy outfit, adorned in gold told a very different story. Free from shackles on the stage, I sung solo but I danced with a troupe of other talented dancers behind me. At first glance I seemed innocent, but the white color of my attire would soon betray that image as I moved my body with hypnotic fluidity. I had become well-known for my belly dancing before I struck Club fame, and I incorporated my abdominal and hip skills in virtually every dance skit I choreographed. The papers were right. With silky purple skin and fearless violent eyes, I was a striking sight to see.

Despite the crazy party, pumping with increasing intensity, DUNGEON DJ featured several intermissions where the music dimmed down, allowing for partiers to take a break from dancing to grab drinks, food, and often... drugs. My segment, which incorporated live singing to many of the songs customers dance to, was only 2 hours, starting at 11pm and ending at 1am. After the set would end, I would continue to entertain by serving and socializing with customers until the club faded out by about 3 in the morning. With just minutes to spare before 1am, the song Dance Without You concluded, and my last finale song began on a much deeper feeling. The stage filled with artificial smoke, completely devouring the dance crew, including myself. The room now in almost total utter darkness as the transition took effect. The beat transitioned into a darker undertone and the crowd settled down with the change. The stage was now void of any dancers; and I was the only one left on stage. Within seconds, the smoke began to clear, and a single, dull beam of light rose from the stage at my feet. The light shun upwards, illuminating my body but shadowing my face.

Can't escape
All the fire burning bright
Water still is rising
Throughout the long nights​

My voice became saturated in sweetness; its harmonious tune soft against my tongue. The room was sedated, enthralled by my seductive voice as I searched for wanting eyes. Locking eyes on a mysterious face in the crowd, I extended my hand outward, unintentionally revealing the same flesh that had been scarred just hours earlier.

Come take my hand
And focus on the light down at the end
Say words to comfort me
We still have time for hope
That's all we need
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
Beneath with me​

As the beat was building up and subsequently dropped to equalize, smoke began to form again on stage. The fog was swallowing me from behind, taking my head, torso, legs and feet. For only a brief moment, it left solely my extended hand in the light before taking that too. The song left a ghostly resonance, as if I were the recently deceased, void of all freedom and life, calling out for anyone to join in this journey of death... Beneath With Me.

When my voice returned, I could not be seen, only heard. I was consumed by the darkness of the terminated lights, missing in the crowd's bed of black.

Morning grace
Enemies have come together
Miles have gone silent
In the arms of strangers​

The foggy abyss of the stage cleared, and the darkness lifted. I stood on stage still as a statue, my head down to the floor surrounded by black gowned dancers. Their faces and identities completely hidden beneath the confines of a silenced golden skull mask. Behind me lay a massive sheet of silk material which hung from a suspension to the ceiling. As I continued to sing, the skull dancers remained completely still beside me.

Come take my hand
And focus on the light down at the end
Say words to comfort me
We still have time for hope
That's all we need
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
Beneath with me​

At the end of the final verse, the skull-faced dancers began to grab me in an artificially violent manner. I was tossed around like a rag doll as they thrashed me back and forth. Their hands molested my body, rubbing me and groping me as they took their turns. As the beat dropped, they shoved me to the ground and tore my skirt off, leaving me in nothing but scantily clad bikini bottoms. They began wrapping the silk intricately around my body and legs before finally disappearing into the smoke again. My body was lifted off the ground as the silk sheet, coiled around me, was pulled slowly into the air. The silk not only suspended me above the stage, but moved forward to hang above the seduced crowd. Right before the beat ceased, I flipped forward, my body unraveling like a pulled stitch as I spiraled loose from the silk. I dropped down, suspended upside-down with dead weight as I hung like a corpse with the cheering crowd laying lament beneath with me.

 

[GrinningGentleman]

RE: Beneath With You [Temptationist x GrinningGentleman]

The streets of Coruscant's Underground, was notoriously slimy. Not in dirty, or trash, but the people walking it. Countless various species, walking in between each other, rubbing shoulders, but always with a hand on their pockets. Trust was a valuable, and rare commodity, and none shared it on the streets themselves.
The stimulation to the eyes, was torturous. Neon lights, flashing, blinking because of bad connection. Young people, waving their light sticks, as they listened to the music from their mobile devices. Bright, but broken street lights, fighting to keep alight the walk ways. A blindness cursed these streets. Not always in the figurative sense.
The noise was deafening. Shouting salesmen, peddling their goods on the open streets. Various music, all mangled together in a mess of bleeding beats, and cutting riffs. The screams, and pleas, of slaves and beaten victims. Being deaf, was a relief in these streets.

The streets were packed, leaving very little shoulder room, even at this time of night. People could not walk more than a foot, without having to avoid bumping into a stranger. A stranger more likely to steal your valuables, or cut you down, than say hello, or sorry. But in these packed streets, there were still those who could walk unhindered. Those who imposed such respect, or fear, that room was made for them. Slavers, mainly. But occasionally, the black robed stranger, cut it's way through the crowds. The intimidating, powerful force of one of these men, or women, could cut through these crowded street, like a warm knife through butter. Even Slavers, gave way to folk like this.
Red eyes glared their way through the streets, intent on a destination. Even shrouded behind a hood, their faint glow was visible, making the imposing force even more respected, and feared. A Slaver quickened his slaves across the streets, slapping one slave for begging at the tall, red eyed man. The man didn't even look over his shoulder at the commotion. He continued. Cutting his way through the main crowd, leading into an opening of the street, were big signs tainted everyone's vision. 'Club LUSH'. The red eyed man stopped in his tracks, glaring emotionless at the many signs, before looking over his shoulder to a nearby poster for the club. The picture of the beautiful woman on it, was not the thing to catch his attention, but instead the lineup of artists this night. With wondering eyes, he glared at the poster for a while, before picking out a communication device from his pocket. Clicking a button, a figure became apparent on the device. This wore a black robe, much like the one the red eyed man wore himself. Bellow the hood, a face was clouded in a black smoke, revealing only a pair of green lights, were eyes should be. The voice was rasping, and shrouded, as if spoken through smoke.

You've reached Club LUSH. This is Grim's domain. He is the man you must speak to, once you find the subject.
We've both felt the power of this source. We must have this one.. Make this clear to him, and he will see reason.
If not... Next visit will be of my Apprentice.
I am counting on you. Get this subject.​

The red eyed man pressed the same button again, and pocketed the device as the image disappeared. Once again, strong steps sent the man towards his destination, the black robe waving behind him in the wind, and fighting to keep up with his pace.


The red eyed man walked straight through the massive crowd of people. Again, the very robes he wore, as well as the red eyes, granted him an amount of respect, and fear, allowing him to barge straight through. As two Zabrak politicians opened the door, laughing and joking about something meaningless, the red eyed man barged right past them, through the opened door. One of the men shouted after the red eyed man, but was quickly silenced by the other, less intoxicated pencil pusher. The red eyed man, didn't even allow them a glance over his shoulder.

Reaching the receptionist, barging right past the lines, as well as ignoring that the scantly clad woman behind it was already talking to another costumer. This caused quite the complaining murmur in the impatient crowd. The receptionist looked up, wide eyed, seemingly surprised at the feeling of authority in the man arriving.
"Excuse me, sir. You'll have to wait in line, like anybody else, even as a politician.." The woman started, quite appalled by the rude behavior of the new arrival. As she spoke, the red eyed man fished something out of an inner pocket in his robe, placing it on the table. A signet of the Senat, proclaiming this man had business for them, which bore little meaning to anyone here. Several people in line had these.
"That doesn't get you anywhere sir, I'm afraid you'll.. Still.. Have t.." The woman got a little slower as she spoke, because the red eyed man reached out for the signet again. Doing a twist on it with a finger, the signet dawned a black set of wings, as well as a dark mask in the middle. This was the signet of a recruiter, of the Sith Order, more specifically House Yimar. Even accomplished businessmen, and crooks, like Grim, was wise enough not to leave these men, and women, waiting at the door to their establishments. Not mentioning the possibility in a profitable sale, there was a chance there'd be no door the next day.
The receptionist knew the signet, and quickly looked up, with a hand in front of her lips. The few costumers around, who could see the signet, quickly looked away, signing to any of their friends who might still be complaining, to shut up.
"I.. I am so sorry, sir. Step right through the doors on either side, I.. I didn't mean t.." She stopped appologicing, since the red eyed man had already picked up his signet, and head straight towards the stairs to the, so called, 'DUNGEON'.

The man's red eyes, scanned the room he entered, once reaching the bottom of the stairs. The eyes narrowed slightly, as he clawed his right hand in front of himself. His fingers stretched, bent and twitched, as he concentrated on his task at hand. Focusing on his powers, he became blind to everything else. He just saw the force. There were several signs of it. Pathetic twingles of it, in lesser creatures, such as Bounty Hunters, and Mercenaries. These people were possibly exceptional at their jobs, because of this twingle, but certainly not what he was looking for.
This scene, was not the red eyed man's scene. The music was enjoyable, but the crowd was appalling. Stretching his neck, the red eyes narrowed and stared towards the stage. The man cursed his luck, realizing the subject was a performer, rather than a server. These were always overpriced, and the owners often had to be pushed towards the sale.

The realization struck like a brick, as his eyes fell upon the main singer of this hour. The red eyes narrowed slightly, realizing just how unlucky he might've gotten this night. The poster girl of Club LUSH, was force sensitive. Rank one, on Yimar's personal graph. The highest potential. A hidden gem, in a sea of pebbles and boulders. The red eyes calmed slightly, as they focused on the singer's eyes His expression was quite emotionless, but the eyes were cold.

Her dance was seductive. Mesmerizing. Her beauty pristine. Untouched. But the voice. The voice was enthralling. Captivating. The red eyed man was drawn in, and kept him in his place. He should be on his way to Grim's table, but he was stunned. Never had his step failed him. His determination never waned. His resolve never broken. But this night, a voice left Trak breathless. Lost, in the beautiful voice, and dance, of this performer. The emotionless black ocean, that was Trak's mind, was tainted in red by unwanted thoughts, as well as memories. Things long since forgotten, and buried behind a shield of discipline, and training.
All of this, was not apparent in the Chiss' face. Emotionless and cold, it stared at the performer, as she seduced his mind to feelings unbeknownst to him now.
As the song changed mood, the red eyes narrowed slightly, as they traveled to the performer's own purple eyes. As they did, their gaze interlocked, and Trak's face calmed. No longer emotionless, but instead moved by the singer's song. Trak didn't look away from her eyes, even for a second. The glowing red eyes on his blue face, would still feel as cold, and glaring as ever, as Trak stood motionless on the dance floor. People around him danced, and cheered with the song, but the black robed man remained still. Just staring. Reaching out with his eyes, as she sang her song of desperation.

Trak frowned, as the performer was swallowed by smoke, and he remained were he stood. To him, this was not just a symbol of her, being swallowed by the taint she was already chained to. This symbolized, what -he- was here to do to her. What -he- had done to so many before. Tossed them to the wolves. To be swallowed by a darkness, most corrupting. A fate, he knew the course of. Death, or torture. There were just those two, in the Sith Academy. Trak breathed heavily through his nose, as the voice rang again, the red eyes staring for the performer's, but never found them. Instead, found her, surrounded by. Him. Trak's face ticked with the realization, closing his eyes as he turned his face away, shaking his head. What had she done to him? Why was this affecting him this way?
As the performer was suspended into the air, carried above the crowd, lifeless. Her death, by his hand. The red eyes followed the still woman, as she was carried right above him. Sadness, was apparent in his face, as he watched the lifeless body of the woman above him, sneering silently. And as the woman was released, Trak's arms moved in front of himself, as if he prepared himself to catch the woman. Should she open her eyes, he would be unmistakable. Right bellow her. Had she been just a little further down, their noses would've met. But, instead, his eyes just stared up at her, his arms still out for a moment, before they finally dropped down by his side.

It felt like an eternity, staring at the performer, before his arm instinctively grabbed at the Cathar by his side's shirt, pulling him close.
"Grim's table..." Trak demanded, the Cathar only complaining until he heard the demand. This was an interaction, no sane person would want to get between, so the man quickly pointed towards the area Grim would be. While talking, and listening, Trak never looked away from the performer, and her eyes, should she be looking at him. Only when guided, he looked shortly towards Grim's table, before back on the performer. The red eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly in disdain, before Trak pushed the Cathar away, and head straight towards Grim's table.

"I wish to speak with Grim. Immediately." Trak's voice was demanding, and imposing, as he approached Grim's table, or office.