|Maella Abbey (maella_abbey) wrote,|
@ 2008-03-04 20:53:00
Angelo leaned back in his seat, appreciative gaze never leaving the bunny girls on stage. The others were undoubtedly asleep, preparing to face Dhoulmagus; his plan was to enjoy the show, the drink, and possibly one of the girls until dawn, then sleep on the ship until they reached Dhoulmagus's lair.
If Dhoulmagus managed to kill him, he'd at least die with as few regrets as possible.
He didn't see Jessica enter, didn't know she was there until her hand was on his shoulder and her knee was pressed against his thigh, urging him to slide down the bench seat and make room. Her eyes were too bright, and she wasn't scowling her annoyance at the spectacle on stage or at the men whose attention she had drawn from the bunny girls.
Most tellingly, she dropped bonelessly beside him when he shifted aside, her hand still on his shoulder and her hip and thigh pressed tight against his.
Angelo moved his drink to his right hand and swept a glare at those near enough to have witnessed Jessica's arrival, encouraging their attention to return to the stage. Then he leaned down and whispered, "Jessica, are you drunk?"
"No," she said, then - with a smile he would have termed impish on anyone else - amended, "Well, not so drunk I don't know what I'm doing. Just drunk enough to have the courage to do it."
"And just what are you doing?"
She leaned up, hand on his cheek to draw him down for a kiss. He wasn't certain what he had expected to taste on her lips; something delicate and feminine, perhaps mixed with fruit or cream to blunt the alcohol. Surely not the raw, slow burn of fine whiskey, nor the eager way she shared with him, tongue hot as it tangled with his own.
Common sense asserted itself enough for him to push her away, though had this been any other night... He sighed. "Jessica, my indulgences tonight are so that I might face death with fewer regrets about my life, not more."
"And you think you'd regret sleeping with me?" Her brow furrowed briefly into a frown, but before he could explain the smile slipped out again, so unlike her...so unlike the Jessica he knew, he amended, and wondered if this was Jessica without the weight of grief and revenge on her.
She leaned close, close enough to kiss, but simply asked, "How do you know my motives aren't the same as yours?"
In answer, she kissed him again, was halfway in his lap by the time they parted, and he - he, who had never minded the entire world knowing when he held the attention of a beautiful woman - was suddenly all too aware that they had once more distracted those around them from the performance on stage.
"Are you sure?" he asked, and the disgusted look she shot him - the one that asked, clearly as words, "Are you really that stupid?" - was pure Jessica, and enough to convince him of both her sincerity and her relative sobriety. He let his hands settle on her thighs, kneading through the fabric of her skirts. "Your room?"
She rubbed against him as she rose, and yes, she knew exactly what she was doing, he decided. "Unless you have a better idea."
He caught her hand and let her pull him to his feet, followed willingly where she led, and vowed that he would not let this become a regret for either of them come morning.