|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 29, 2016 6:17:38 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. He hoped- no- prayed, that today would be a day nobody would show up wanting something other than a woman, but still weak like one. The room was like a prison, claustrophobia taking form in his soul. Someday, being inside a room so small might make him snap. For now, it was enough space to dress up a needle and give himself a little booster while he waited for a client to walk through the door. He wasted no time hiding everything after getting a little dose, but was quick to sprawl out on the bed that practically stole the whole room, which spun around and around and around...
What had the world come to? Spencer would never be able to answer. His world had been the same from the beginning. Full of drugs and blame. Not that he blamed himself for anything. Actually, he usually blamed someone else for all his woes, even though his troubles were 100% on his own shoulders. Still, he denied it all, assuring he was happy despite his blinding depression. There was no need for change. Why change what didn't need changed? This needed changed, though. In no way was it healthy for a man to be working at an illegal brothel while spun the fuck out of his mind.
Someone hurry up and rape me so I can get my time and go. He sighed and rolled to his belly, grabbing a random little pillow and cuddling it up under his chin. Just please don't need a fucking therapy session... I need therapy, but I ain't about to get it.
Just as he wished it, it seemed to happen. A man with a flushed face burst through the door, locking it behind him. A rule broken instantly by a client who'd been there a few times and been doing so well up until this moment. In a hurry, he pulled his jacket off and began to strip, eyes focused on Spencer. His skin crawled, though thankfully he wasn't nude.
"Get undressed," the man said quickly. He was already down to his boxers and shoving Spencer around, but everything about it was off, so he remained as he was, trying to push back. Most of what he managed was whining and yelping, telling him to stop on repeat. What was it about bad situations that made him turn into a sack of meat for the taking?
|
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 29, 2016 22:43:43 GMT 2
The Tiger Den, a living paradise and a very alive purgatory for anyone who dared to step inside. Every Friday night, and sometimes other nights in the week, Damian Bishop was to keep an eye on the place, bouncer and bodyguard for the workers. Not every establishment was given such a privilege, such security, but here they had it. Many others could have applied for the work, if only they didn't show their weaknesses on the first or second day. It was so easy for a man to throw away all responsibilities when they were in such an environment. Bishop was one of the few who was able to put job in front of primal needs. Lust was not one of his sins, even if he devoted himself to sin of lust every once in a while. But he kept that for when he wasn't working, when he had what others called a day off, and what he called a law convention for workers so it doesn't look like slavery.
He was standing in the hallways, walking slowly from door to door, listening and looking at everyone who walked through the corridors, hallways and open room. He wasn't to disturb and only needed to come in if needed. So far tonight, no issues except for a drunk customer who was kicked out earlier. One could see this as a boring job, but quite frankly, from Bishop's point of view, it was all very entertaining. Interesting people passed by from time to time, and on some rare occasions they even had an interesting story to tell. However most of the time, the people coming here were rich snobs looking to get their pipes cleaned or their chimneys swept. He couldn't deny the qualities of the establishment, which was one of the finest if not the only in Chicago. How many brothels could you think of that had actual tigers laying somewhere in a corner, watching the guests with hungry eyes but not always eating them.
The man was always well dressed for the job. Tie, suit, combed hair...but yes the hair and beard was usually blue. For this type of job he did not care much for how people looked at him. He was often used to criticism but he found none in the Tiger Den. People were too busy with their own matters to notice or bother to think of a comment.
As he walked down one of the hallways, still listening to whatever may come out of the doors, he heard what he was supposed to look out for. He heard complaints from down the hallway and he hurried his steps to get there, hearing the complaints and yelps of a man inside. He knew who was behind this door, just like he knew who was behind each door. He turned the doorknob in an attempt to open it, but it was locked. The Client inside, or the worker inside broke one of the rules of this establishment. Things were about to get messy. The man took a few step back, and with one, strong jerk of his upper body into the door, he was able to open it. The art of opening a door, nothing to spit on.
Inside there was the client, already nearly naked, then the worker, Spider, or was it Spander? Spandex? No that's a stupid material people love to dress themselves in. No matter the name, he seemed unwilling to get to work tonight, and the customer had a red enough face to Bishop's taste. He took a few steps close. "Step back." he ordered at once, but as the customer got angry and turned around, it was clear he wasn't ready to cooperate. "Fuck off man" said the man in boxers, looking at Bishop with a despised look on his face. That was the only thing that was needed for Bishop to get to the real job. He walked until he was close enough to the man, suggesting one last order. "Leave" no sir, or please, this man wasn't to be invited here again. The rules here were strict. One wrong step you didn't pay for, then you are banned, the hard way. "I'm not done yet" said the despicable man, who despite his height, barely made it to Bishop's chin with the top of his head.
Three seconds, that was all that was left for the man to back off, until Bishop brought down his sentence. And the sentence was indeed brought down hard. The bodyguard kicked his head forward, right onto the man's nose bridge, making him fall instantly to the floor, the impact of the hit letting a trail of blood on the customer's face. Bishop didn't even look like he had done it, not a spec of blood on his skin or clothes, yet. He took out a card from his pocket and slipped it inside the man's boxers before dragging the body out of the room, throwing the clothes on top of the man as soon as he was out in the corridor. The card held the message that this customer was no longer welcome, letting him know (when he woke up) that he wasn't to come back, or even attempt to.
Bishop walked back in the room, looking at the busted door for a second. Such a fancy piece of furniture, a shame that it had to fly in debris this way. He shot a look at_whatever his name was. "Did he hurt you?" he asked of his strong voice, a frown on his face. He was asking by pure convention, not like he cared one bit for_ Black??something. Not so god with names, but at least he was excellent with face. He took a few steps closer, looking at the three blood drops on the carpet. Again, shame.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 30, 2016 0:39:38 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. The sound of tearing cloth made the situation a little more real, fear catching in his throat. This man wasn't drunk, but he definitely wasn't sober. There was no time or mind to even consider what it was, not that Spencer cared anyway. He clawed at the man, throwing more unheard demands to get off of him. The two squabbled, wrestling for control of the entire scenario. He was barely able to keep up, high on his own drug and weak from lack of proper nourishment because of it.
There was a clicking noise- the doorknob. Someone was there; someone was about to save his ass, literally and figuratively. The distraction put him in a bad place, though. A hand balled into a fist and greeted his cheek, the pain shooting through his face just as the door was broken down, pieces of it flying. The order that was immediately followed made his attacker pause, but not halt. Please, please just beat the shit out of him! It was not to his wish, though.
Another order was dropped, but this one wasn't quite for forgiving. The intoxicated man tried to stand up to the rather large, blue-haired man, stating the fucking obvious. Within the very moment, Bishop's head lurched forward and a sickening crack followed, the sound of a breaking nose making Spencer gag a little and cup his own nose, remembering how it felt for his own nose to bloody by his own clumsy bullshit, no thanks to that one broad who decided she needed to intervene on his private-in-a-public-place business.
As both men disappeared from the room, Spencer removed his damaged shirt and toss it aside before wandering to his stash, dragging it all out without an ounce of fuck to give about anyone walking in on him getting his high, this time. As Bishop walked in, he was filling his needle with the same amount as before, eyes darting up to the slightly taller male who was built enough to make Spencer feel like he was only 4 foot tall, himself. He cleared his throat nervously as their eyes met, then looked back to his needle.
"I... uh, I'm fine. Thanks, I guess," he muttered. A sharp inhale was followed by the point going into a collapsed vein. He threw the stash all back into the drawer and slammed it shut before crumpling into a nearby chair and twiddling this thumbs, stealing glances at Bishop and his brightly colored hair. How could someone with such... blue hair be so intimidating? "I think that guy owed for last time still, anyway." He hoped to himself that he wouldn't get his ass chewed later on for it, either way.
The very next second he was back onto his feet, digging through another drawer. He grabbed a fresh shirt for himself and something else, wandering timidly toward Bishop before stretching his needle-scarred arm out, a bundle of cash in hand. "My tips for the week.... take it and don't tell Shaun you saw me poking myself on the job, please?" He didn't know if there were repercussions for being such trash, but he assumed it was better safe than sorry. He also assumed Bishop would take the money and be hush-hush about it. After all, who didn't like hush-hush money?
|
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 30, 2016 3:19:42 GMT 2
He rose his eyes from the carpet, looking at the slim man, prepping himself a shot. He frowned even more at the sight and crossed his arms. He was aware of the man's issues, but this was not how you pleased customers. This was a respectable establishment, why was that kid hired in the first place? Was he that good at blowing? Bishop could hear his mind annoyed to death because of this, however he barely showed his annoyance and waited for Spencer to be done. So the customer owed money already? Great, maybe he should go look in his wallet for this and get the due money. This wasn't his job, someone will come down the hallway to take care of the mess. So now what? Was this little brat ready to work tonight or was he scared shitless and won't be able to do anything worth paying for?
He looked at the man as he got up, his slim back nearly showing his spine and rib cage as he moved. He guessed some people truly had a thing for feeble looking beings. He knew and understood the man's history, but he wasn't the type to mourn for someone's terrible past life. A glance at his own backstory and he was already full of it. He didn't want to hear about how miserable your life used to be, he needed to hear how you'll change it to make it better. And that was only if he cared, which was not something someone ever accomplished. Making Bishop care was a hard task, and no involving money did not make him care, it only sold his works and talents.
Spencer came back with with something in his hand, money. This was ridiculous. The man truly thought that he could buy his silence with money? He didn't nearly have enough money to accomplish that, and even then he would have to convince Bishop that he was a worthy employer. "Put that away." he said, pushing the man's hand aside. If Shaun found out about the man's bad habit he will feed him to the tigers. So Bishop walked up to where the stash was, thinking of destroying it, but then remembering that this wasn't the best way to cure someone for this. He took the stash between his hands, quickly looking inside. "If you have more you are to give it to me now." he said with a strong voice, stepping closer to Spencer. "Whenever you are in dire need of this, you come see me. Me and no one else, am I clear? If I catch you doing this again there will be no third time." he warned, looking at Spencer his both eyes in a menacing way. If this man couldn't pull himself together, Bishop will have to do it for him. He searched his own pocket, taking out some money. "This, I assume is what you would have been paid tonight. Pull yourself together and work, or take a damn break." he said, slapping the money into the man's hand.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 30, 2016 4:32:16 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. The reaction that came wasn't truly one he expected. He watched his hand cringe as the slap caused a little sting. He almost dropped the money, but kept it in his fingers, eyes staring widely at Bishop as he moved toward his stash. His breathing hitched, a gasp escaping only after he picked it up and he strained to not jump the gigantic motherfucker on the spot. He was certain it was about to be destroyed or stolen, but instead... instead he asked for more, and his brows furrowed. Spencer was ready to screech by the time Bishop began to explain the situation.
"W-what? What!? No, fuck you. You don't know me, why the fuck do you care? Gimme my shit back, dude!" he said, reaching for it and scrambling to steal it away again. It seemed like someone else having his drugs made him yearn and itch for it even more; more than he ever had before. Suddenly, cash was shoved to him, but he shoved it back into Bishop's hands and went for his heroin, desperate for it like a dehydrated animal desperate for a drink of water. The rage and frustration overflowed in the form of tears. He didn't even notice. He was just pissed off.
"I don't want your fucking money, I just want you and these psychos to fuck off, let me do this shitty job so i can go ho-... so I can go out and work for my own prices!" He threw a tantrum, hardly acting like a 29 year old man.
[break][break] ♕[break][break] 259 w. [break] [break] notes. |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 30, 2016 13:24:15 GMT 2
Why do you care? That's exactly where Spencer was wrong. Bishop didn't care, he was making sure the Bianchi's investments wasn't wasted, and in order for that to be the case, he wasn't even allowed to break that man's nose as well. His words did not phase him, the number of times he heard people tell him to go fuck himself was irrelevant to him, not part of his worries. You could insult the man countless times, it didn't change his goal nor his mind. Bishop Damian was the kind of guy you would have loved to have watching over you as a kid. Bullies weren't a threat to him, and they still weren't now. It took way too much to get the man truly angered, and even more to make him feel...something. What he did often feel however was the sorrow of seing this world the way it was: Decadent, sinful and he was a part of it. But he wasn't a part of it against his will no, he willingly helped people commit mischief, because in the end, there was no use in trying to change a world that didn't want to be changed. So the man rolled with it, exercising what was needed rather than what was right. He had no side, and took the side of those willing to pay him enough to make him work for them.
He raised the stash away from the man, the action rather easy because of his height. Did this Spencer have no dignity at all? He was whimpering and seemed to even have tears crawling out of his eyes. It made Bishop roll his eyes in exasperation as he grabbed the man's collar slowly. Shouldn't have put a shirt back on, it only made it easy for the bouncer to grab a hold of him, even if the long neck would have been just as easy to grab. "You just took a shot, you can part with this for a few more hours. This establishment has a reputation to keep, so if you wish you keep your job, you will have to act like you damn well want to." he roared as one of his colleagues came at the door to look at what the mess was all about. Bishop kept his strong grip on Spencer as he looked at the second bodyguard. "Take this, and don't speak a word of it to anyone. Put it in the local, I'll take it back when I'm done here." he ordered and his colleague complied, obviously knowing not to question Bishop's words and do exactly what he was asked to. He took the stash and walked out, automatically trying to close the door behind, but of course there wasn't much to close it with. The body outside was being dragged, and no the man wasn't dead.
He looked at Spencer with a displeased look when he started to justify himself. "Stop trying to confess I'm not a preacher." The money he had handed up earlier was now on the floor, and he to remind himself to pick it back up before leaving, but for the meantime he needed to slap in some sense into that man. He dragged him to the bed, forcing him upon it before putting a knee on Spencer's abdomen. He kept his grip on the man's shirt, a severe frown on his face. "My job is to protect Bianchi investments. So you get to work when the next person comes in, then I might give you your stash right away. I don't care if you die of an overdose when you are walking in the streets, but what I do care about is the blood that could be spat on this establishment's visit card." he removed his knee from the man's abdomen and would attempt to take off his shirt. "Have some pride and show that you deserve that stash back. Earn it." he would take a step back to walk to the floor and pick up his money, leaving a five dollar bill where it was, judging the man had been moved around enough to deserve a small payment. If this was it, Bishop would leave without any other words, otherwise he'd wait for more stupid complaints coming from the man.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 30, 2016 20:34:18 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. It all happened so fast. The world had been on a rampage against time since that useless fuck of a client bombarded in and it didn't seem to be ready to stop, yet. The grip on his collar caught him off guard, eyes widening all over again. He never broke his gaze off of Bishop, even has he passed off his heroin to another muscle-headed asshole. He smelled... good. Honestly, much better than even the most prim and proper of snobs that rolled up in here looking for discrete kink for the sake of humiliating and degrading someone else, without fear. That hair was a bit distracting as well, but not enough to occupy him from every single hard word spoken by him.
Suddenly, he was dragged to the bed and a look of dread took hold of his expression. His gut twisted so hard he was barely able to tell the difference between the feeling and Bishop's knee. The lecturing had him frozen, fingers clinging to the bed sheet as if it'd save him from whatever the hell was going to follow. He relaxed a little as Bishop moved his knee off, but it was short-lived, his shirt coming off in a quick motion. Goosebumps dotted his bared skin, but his expression morphed into a scowl as he was commanded to "take pride in his work." What lousy advice. This fucker wasn;'t exactly taking it up the ass or showering in whatever fluid clients wanted to... y'know. He almost never got women clients, it was shitastic. Take pride in it... trade me jobs for a day, bastard. He wanted to say it so badly, but didn't want to risk being popped in the mouth for it.
"Sorry," he muttered as Bishop took a "ready to leave" stance. He rubbed at his arms, trying to resist habitual urges that he was excruciatingly aware of with this blue gorilla leering at him. He sat up at the edge of the bed, eyeing him suspiciously before moving his gaze to the carpet where the blood was. He sighed and put his head into his hands, wishing he had a different life, at this particular moment. "Unless you're going to employee to client... I'm gonna vacate to a new room so this door can get... fixed. Nobody wants to be seen with me, after all." Not a sympathy card, just a fact. These men "weren't gay" and weren't about to be seen doing gay shit.
He gathered what little he had, habit having him reach for his stash that wasn't there. Spencer made a throaty growl to himself, then brushed passed Bishop, barely making it between him and the smashed door. He wandered toward a relatively unused room, figuring he was just following orders, at this point. Work or eat shit.
[break][break] ♕[break][break] 469 w. [break] [break] notes. |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 30, 2016 22:20:17 GMT 2
He could see the expression in Spencer's eyes shift, fear and anticipation slowly growing in those pupils. He had seen that look before, countless times. He knew exactly what the man feared may happen, but this wasn't Bishop's objective at all. He was on the job, and that was a code he respected to keep said job. No sleeping with the workers while you were on duty, and as much as he knew some of his colleagues didn't keep the same rules as he, he wasn't a sheep to follow a heard. He was the one who obeyed himself, lone wolf who occasionally teamed up for better results or because he was forced to.
It took so few for Spencer to react, be it with his eyes, skin or breathing. He even cried earlier! Bishop believed some of that must be due to the drugs, but who knew how much could be blamed on heroin when you didn't know the person in front of you all that well. He was well aware of Spencer's past before he was hired here, like he knew about everyone's little details by pure security and, yes, curiosity. He was a man who read a lot of books, and found people's lives often interesting to know about so he could understand them best and trace that security circle around them. Know your enemy they say, and when humanity can turn out to be an enemy, you are to know every individual. He adjusted his suit, finishing with his tie, which he tightened closer to his throat but keeping it lose enough so that it didn't choke him. Hm all the things you could do with a tie...
He looked at Spencer with a frown as he fiddled in his pocket for a cigar to put in his mouth without lighting it. It wouldn't be right for him to smoke here, but this slim man was starting to get on his nerves. What a diva, all he needed was a galactic dress and he was prepped to be the queen of the moon. Yes innuendos, current in the language of adults and even more in that of kids quite strangely enough. Even if it was never meant for in the first place. He chewed on the cigar, observing the man get his belongings, waiting next to the door for him to be done. He laughed internally as Spencer spoke about the employee becoming client. He had no envy to take this man right now, and he did not think about later, or tomorrow, or this week. But he did get an apology from the man, and that was welcome. Spencer squeezed between him and what was left of the door before Bishop simply flung it open to avoid further annoyances.
Spencer took an unused room and Bishop took note of the number to give it to the front desk. He closed the door after the man walked in, giving him a quick glance before it was shut. He pocketed his cigar and walked down the hallway in a steady pace. He did not stop until he was down at the front desk. He spoke slowly, giving instructions to the woman taking care of the visits. Number of the room, should get a calm client, maybe a first time visitor or someone who paid minimum. The instructions were clear, and this wasn't the first time Bishop did something of the sort. He was doing his best to keep the place 'clean' or so you could say. Once the instructions were given, he went to the employee local, and as expected he found the stash put on the pile of his own belongings. He hid it in his locker, closing the thing shut, but not before taking a small dose with him, slipping it in the internal pocket of his jacket. He then took back his rounds, roaming the corridors and hallways like he did earlier, as if nothing ever happened.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 31, 2016 0:27:40 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. Hours passed by. After a couple of chill clients, he started to get his regulars, as the evening came along with the end of work shifts. It was exhausting, even if some of them were easy to get along with. It was even harder when his favored client offered to buy him a little somethin'-somethin', which he turned down because he already had enough of Bishop for the day... and he still had to confront him after work for his shit. Eventually though, despite his dread, the end of his work day came to a close. He cleaned up, dressed himself decently, and didn't even waste his time with his wild hair.
Spencer stared down the hallways from his door, watching as a couple of the girls hauled butt to the door on a mission. Normally he'd be right with them, but he had someone to find, first. He bit his lip, then turned the other way, seeking out Bishop. He had no idea where the damned bouncers and whoever hung out or collected. He only knew his way in and his way out and he made a point to keep it that way. Today was such a fucked day already, though.
Some snooping landed him in the room he was needing to find, eyeing up the area and the lockers. Security was good at being secure, though. Every single fucking one had a lock on it. He wasn't much for B&E, so he was fucked unless he could find the huge smurf. Which lead him to sigh, because what if he still didn't get his stuff back? Did the lump not realize he'd just buy more?
[break][break] ♕[break][break] 278 w. [break] [break] notes. |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 31, 2016 1:08:16 GMT 2
His shift occured without any further complications. A calm night he could call it, just because no one died. He was tired, and quite frankly he wished he could get back to the mansion now, lay on his bed, maybe read a few pages before falling asleep. Or maybe one of the ladies from here would come invite him to lay in bed together. It wouldn't be the first time, and often what happened was that they both...or several of them, fell asleep in an embrace without looking to please each other. Other nights could be more entertaining if everyone felt like they wanted it to be so. But hell, tonight Bishop knew he'd probably end up driving back to the Bianchi manor for a good rest after a few push ups to make up for those he didn't get the time to finish this morning.
He walked along the hallways, going down the stairs, the girls and men speaking no word as they crossed each other. He reached the local, already taking off his working suit when he saw Spencer standing there in the middle of the room, with an expecting look on his face. Of course he was there for his bloody stash, why else would he be there with such a desperate look. Bishop finished to remove his suit, tacking one of the hangers to neatly put it on it. He then hung the hanger on top of one of the lockers before going to his own, opening it with his own combination. He took out the stash then took out his weapons from his pockets to set them inside the locker, except for one gun he always kept with him. He then proceeded to leave the stash on one of the benches as he changed shoes and undressed in front of Spencer without any second thoughts, doing his routine like the man wasn't even there. After removing his white shirt he pulled on a simple t-shirt, stretching over his thick self, he did the same with his pants, putting on joggings that would help him be more comfortable. From a respectable man wearing an elegant suit he became a normal person who just happens to go to the gym.
After folding each of the items removed he looked at Spencer and pointed at the stash. "You can take that back, but_" he took out the dose he had kept from earlier. "This, is what you earned today. Now you take that or more I don't care. But if you show up tomorrow, or for your next working day, you will not be seen taking anything inside this establishment. I'll come visit your room next time, and if I can see anything that tells me you are shooting yourself, you will no longer be allowed in here as an employee." he made himself clear and threw the does in his hand onto the stash that he had previously left on the bench. He hung his suit with all the others on a rack and left his folded clothes inside his locker. All those were to be cleaned each week, but the suits were cleaned each two days.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 31, 2016 1:35:23 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. Bishop was as intimidating as ever, not saying a single damn word as he stripped down from the sexy suit to a typical street outfit. He clenched his jaw, trying to not stare, but did anyway. It was hard to not watch, completely dumbfounded by the build of another man who wasn't fat, mediocre, or ruined by drugs. Every muscle seemed to ripple and he swallowed hard, occasionally eyeing his drugs with sweat building up uncomfortably.
Spencer began to dig at his arm, slowly, but with a disturbed need for something he didn't really even want. What he wanted didn't matter, though. His body needed it. Still, he managed some semblance of restraint, even as the little dose was tossed in to join the main bag. He went to rubbing his arm, realizing he was about to make himself bleed. Don't be any worse than you've already been, today. He chewed his bottom lip as he was given his warning, unsure how he really felt about it. Did he care if he lost this job? Well, maybe a little.
The thing about Tiger's Den is people like Bishop worked there. Protection was always available, even if a little late to the party. However, those streets he worked... who knew who he'd meet up with. There was no rules or protection on the streets, just Johns, drugs, and money. Regardless, he'd be shooting up in some alley before hopping into a car with a total stranger tonight, because he had to pay for his addiction somehow. Luckily, being homeless, there were no bills to take care of, first.
With only minor hesitation, Spencer snatched up his heroin and stuffed it into his pocket, then straightened out his shirt a little. He met Bishop's gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes back downward before muttering "Thanks..." and shuffling towards the door, then down the hall. His hand brushed over the lump of his pocket, making sure he'd really grabbed it and put it in place, sighing a little. He had a need like crazy, well passed the point of craving to dose himself again.
Wonder if he's really straight.
[break][break] ♕[break][break] 358 w. [break] [break] notes. |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 31, 2016 17:08:23 GMT 2
Fast breathing, the scratching of his arm, the staring. But the man didn't react one bit as he knew the man probably looked more at his stash than at him. It wasn't very important in the end. However what was important was the image this whole situation gave to the Bianchi. Was Spencer really worth it all? He did work quite well tonight, have quite a number of customers, but it wasn't like some other people here who just enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. No Spencer looked like he was here just for the money. Something he and Bishop shared quite frankly. He finished tying his shoes and stood up as the slim man with crazed hair seemed ready to leave. The bodyguard wasn't sure the man had learned his lesson, it was time to make sure this wouldn't happen again. If it were Shaun, the man would be dead. But since it's Bishop, he had no order to kill, so the lesson will have to hurt without killing.
He got up, barely hearing the thank you for which he didn't care enough to listen, and he grabbed one of the clothe hangers from the rack before grabbing Spencer by the coat, swiftly sticking the hanger inside the man's coat through the collar. He turned him around and pushed him towards the door as he violently closed it with his foot. He held the man's hands together and took Spencer's belt off to block his hands within it. That's exactly what happens when you face a man who's done this type of thing all his life. He lifted him by the hanger, hanging him on the rim of the door. He contemplated the man before searching his pockets and finally lighting that cigar he had meant to burn earlier, taking a deep huff of it before puffing it out in the man's face. He was calm now, no need to grow too worried.
"Alright." he sighed, an hand stuck in the rim of his pants, his typical frown drawn on his face while he eyed Spencer. "I'm not sure, how much you understood the situation. You've been found with drugs, in an establishment where it is forbidden. You work here to get your money I get it. But I can't let you risk this establishment's reputation with your addiction. So you leave it here." he pointed at the man's pockets before adding. "Each day when you come here, you come to give your stash to me. I'll put it in that locker over there. When you need a shot you come find me and I'll give you what you need. You take it here, nowhere else and you go back in your room when you are done." he was making himself clear, looking at Spencer from time to time to catch his emotions but mostly looking at the smoke created by his cigar.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Mar 31, 2016 19:50:01 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. It really caught him off guard. The feeling of a hanger hooking his jacket. Being lifted off the ground forced a yelp of surprise, whilst being hung from the door incited panic and paranoia. His wrists were bound and he couldn't do anything more than simply stare at his own belt restraining him. It wasn't something he'd quite experienced before. It frightened him, but in the back of his mind, goddamn if only you didn't likely hate me at this point.
Spencer made no point to fight it. He hung there, looking like a pathetic, half-starved dog who'd gotten used to being beaten for nothing. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Bishop at all, not even flinching as the smoke curled into his face. It burned his eyes, which he tried to clamp shut before they got smoked out, but alas, he failed. His eyes watered and reddened a little. He used his bound hands to dig as his pained eyes, then dropped them again, deciding to just deal with it.
The lecture went heard, the booming and firm words burning his ears and shaking him up, knowing full well he'd stand absolutely no chance against this man. He was probably capable of popping Spencer's head with his index finger and thumb if he really wanted to; at least, that was his perspective on the matter.
"Yes, sir," he mumbled, hardly getting an ounce of voice out. Basically, it was a very breathy whisper with a little squeak in there. Pretty fucking pathetic. He glanced toward Bishops locker, then stared at the man's shoes, still feeling too intimidated to look up to his face at all. He had no idea he was hardly even looked at. He wiggled his fingers a bit, feeling some of his blood flow cut off, but it wouldn't ever turn them purple. His underarms were starting to hurt from his coat digging in, feet yearning to touch the ground that was barely out of toe's reach.
[break][break] ♕[break][break] 333 w. [break] [break] notes. |
|
|
Bianchi
Danger Zone!
Sexuality
Bodyguard/Mercenary
Occupation
|
5suns
Offline
Jul 13, 2016 22:37:38 GMT 2
GMT +1
Tag me @bishop
|
|
Post by Bishop Damian on Mar 31, 2016 21:14:39 GMT 2
Did he truly make himself clear? It was hard to know with that man, it was like he took everything without really showing any care for it. Was he that desensitized? Yes Sir, such a stupid calling. No one called him sir since the army, at least no one he wasn't threatening. He didn't particularly enjoy the Sir part, it was too formal and he didn't need it really. He was an employee not some lord or prince or Bianchi who had that title scribbled on his birth certificate. He looked at the man, taking a few steps back, observing him like an artist observed a painting or piece of art, wondering if it was done or not. He ran a hand in his blue beard, the scratching being the only sound heard. Spencer was quite docile actually. Not whimpering like some poor soul, just...accepting the situation pretty much. He did not dare look at Bishop, something the bodyguard appreciated.
But unless he started to threaten and punch the man, this was as much as he could do to be convincing. Of course he could always go further, but he wanted to see how efficient this was before trying a harder method. He took an abrupt step forward, slipping the hanger off of the door to get the man down. He carelessly kept him up so he didn't collapse to the floor and untied his hands, letting the belt used for that detail hang on Spencer's shoulder. He patted the man's face before he took his coat and car keys with his cigar still in his mouth. His locker was closed shut, and he left nothing behind but the suit on the rack. He then opened the door and would leave if Spencer didn't try to stop him for some reason. He'd take the car and drive away to the Bianchi mansion, do his push ups, read and finally go to bed after a few pages. Nothing out of the normal, a simple evening.
The next morning he woke up early, doing his daily exercises, cooked himself breakfast and lunch then around three in the afternoon, after doing a few jobs for Shaun at the mansion, he headed to the brothel again, ready to start his shift. Between three and five o'clock he was to check security around the building and inside, check the rooms for anything relevant or out of normal, then he was to check on the workers who checked in. Their names were validated each day at the front desk so the building knew who they had to work with tonight. He didn't check for anyone in particular, just counted how many checked in and left, letting the front lady do her job. During his round, he still kept his casual clothes, but now that it was almost five o'clock he retreated to the local to change.
Weapons, suit, cologne (required by Shaun for his employees), shoes and there you had it. A ready to work bodyguard/bouncer in the Tiger Den. He walked out of the locker room, closing the door behind him to start his regular job for the second night in a row.
A New Day in Hell And here's the devil's bouncer |
|
|
Bianchi
Conflicted
Sexuality
29
Age
Bishop's Official Koala
Relationship Status
Prostitute
Occupation
|
Kawenu
Offline
Aug 14, 2016 21:41:44 GMT 2
-6 CT
Tag me @spencer
|
|
Post by Spencer Blackwell on Apr 1, 2016 5:29:47 GMT 2
I was never one for pretenders but everything I tried to be just wouldn't settle in. The night for Spencer was long, hard, and heartbreaking. He left Tiger's Den planning to throw another 12 hour shift on the streets. First, he headed home though, which was nothing but an abandoned house he and a woman squatted in together. Her name was Jenna and he was hoping to catch her home to talk about his day with her. She was his best and only friend. He walked through the door and saw a couple candles lit, but didn't immediately spot Jenna. He called for her, but received no answer. Spencer wandered to the bathroom, which was her preferred place to shoot and snort meth.
What he found...
She was sank into the tub. At first, he thought maybe she'd passed out, but when he touched her, he found her skin to be ice-cold. "Jen? Jenna!? Oh my god, JEN!" He felt for a pulse, but wasn't finding anything. With a lot of effort, he dragged her into his arms and rushed out of the house and headed to the distant hospital. Thankfully, he got a ride.
Spencer was thankful to find she was still alive when he got to the hospital with her, but blood was drying on her face, having gushed from a busted blood vessel in her sinuses. He sat with her until she finally passed from overdose on methamphetamine. It was nearly noon the next day. He was exhausted and so depressed over his loss, he continued to not notice his desperate drive for heroin. For the moment, it was no where to be found in his mind.
The man slipped from the hospital almost as soon as it was called. He cried as he walked to work, hardly able to straighten himself out before arriving. He was thankful he didn't get much for business on Saturdays. They all wanted the women. At this point, he was mostly there for the facilities and a bed to lay on and mope on his slow day. Spencer dragged his feet to his usual room, finding the door still in disrepair. A sigh huffed out before he wandered toward the make-shift room, shutting the door, then collapsing upon the bed. It was hard to not keep crying.
Moments passed before he remembered he needed to take his drugs to Bishop. It was that moment he also realized how terribly in need he was. He chewed his cheek, looking at the door. Maybe he could sneak one before giving the rest up. So he took a little out - just a small dose - and drew it into his needle after melting it down. He pulled up his pant leg and stuck it into the back of his knee, finding one of his few remaining veins that weren't totally ruined. There was a rush, but he was in so much pain it hardly did more than satisfy the itch.
He was fed up. He couldn't do this forever. The whoring, the drugs... he'd lost too many people to overdose, but Jenna was the most important one. She was his unblood sister. The person who'd seen him through most of his shit. And she was gone, just like that.
Spencer balled every item and ounce of drug in his hands and chucked it across the room, hardly keeping back his scream of rage before falling back down to the bed, sitting up, but hunched over, damp face in hands.
|
|
