My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 20

She laughed. "Ah yes, she is not Kindred is she? Alcohol will go a long way."

"But give her time. She mourns for Azamel. In a couple months, perhaps renew your attempts to seduce Daniel, and include Athalia in your efforts."

"She is a terribly attractive creature, is she not? A bit tall, quite slim, the dark skin, the long black hair, the soft yet thin face?"

"And eyes of ice."

"Indeed. I do wonder what it would be like, to sink my teeth into her, perhaps while she sits on your sheriff."

"If you wish to make that fantasy a reality," Antoinette said, "you must learn to seduce her mind, not just her body."

"Then I am afraid I am lost."

Antoinette laughed, and undid the knot Elaine had tied. She slid the dress down her friend's body, and cast a glance to the door as quiet footsteps announced someone approaching.

"Jack, my love. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Which was, of course, not fine. "I--" His eyes opened wide as his gaze found the two women.

Antoinette was still dressed in her suit, but Elaine was now quite naked as she stepped out of the dress, wearing literally nothing. Naturally, without any attempt to communicate their devious plan, Elaine turned slightly to face her body toward Jack, and Antoinette turned with her. She set her hands against Elaine's stomach once again, and slid them up to cup her friend's delightfully huge breasts.

"We were trying on dresses, my love."

"Uh huh." He stood there, a half grin on his face, unbelieving. Though his grin faded away as his eyes locked onto Elaine's bare bust, and how Antoinette's fingers slowly caressed her old friend's pale vampire skin. And as Jack stared, Antoinette made sure to gently nudge the breasts up, hard enough they rippled lightly with their mass, before gravity molded them to her palms yet again.

It was the ultimate method to hypnotize her little Ventrue, and it never failed. The sight of a large breast rippling was his bane. But even as the boy stared on, Antoinette could see only a portion of the usual enthusiasm she would normally find. Still, a portion was better than none.

"Truly." Nodding, Antoinette let go of her friend, re-racked the dress, and plucked another. "It is often better to trust the opinion of another's eye over your own, where fashion for the self is concerned. Years of seeing yourself in the mirror distorts reality."

"Indeed," Elaine said, and she held up her arms while Antoinette slid the new dress down over her head, careful with her wavy blonde hair, of course.

Jack walked up to them, and sat upon a nearby couch. He attempted to avert his gaze, but after a few moments, he could not help but watch the display through the mirror. Considering Elaine now turned every motion into a sensuous, subtle dance as she slipped on the dress, Antoinette could not blame him.

They settled on a dress that consisted of a short skirt that reached up the back, tied in the front around the breasts, and also connected at the armpit for sleeves, while leaving both the shoulders and stomach exposed. The color? Nude. A dark white with a hint of flesh, almost the color of skin, meant to be worn with silver or white jewelry. It went well with her blonde hair.

"Uh, no underwear?" Jack asked.

Elaine shrugged. "The skirt covers everything. What use are panties or thongs, if others cannot see them?"

"I suppose hygiene isn't a good answer. We're vampires."

The older Ventrue smiled and nodded, before she opened one of the large boxes sitting upon a vanity desk, exposing its many layers that raised sideways to show off its contents. Jewelry, necklaces and bracelets and rings, for arms and wrists, fingers and toes, and waists and throats. Tens of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry.

Antoinette had necklaces worth everything in that box combined, glamorous, and garish. She rarely wore them.

"What will you be wearing tonight?" Antoinette asked as she slipped out of her suit jacket.

"A suit." He tried to say it gently, she knew, but a touch of frustration showed through. Not with her, but with his memories, with Azamel's death, and the violence he suffered. With everything.

Poor boy. Azamel put a finger specifically on an aspect of his personality he suffered with, and now he battled against it, quite consciously. A battle she doubted he could win.

So she would distract him. And distract herself. Weeks, months of pouring through tomes, hundreds of experiments that summoned a myriad of spirits, and dozens of rituals tested. Combined with countless hours managing each and every report from her thrall spies, watching and monitoring Carthian and Invictus, and Lancea et Sanctum activities, she had had little time to simply stop, and go out. Perhaps she could host another ball for all paranormals in Dolareido?

No, not yet. Some Kindred would still be angry over the deaths of fellow Kindred. But soon. A month or three.

"Of course, a suit." She chuckled as she slipped off the blouse, and the bra. Jack watched through the mirror, eyes locked onto her heavy bust, and she smiled at him in the reflection. "But perhaps a different color than usual? And without the tie, I imagine. Open chest."

"I'm not exactly tall or big enough to really do that. The werewolves, sure, but me?"

"Well, that is half the joy of a suit, my love. It accentuates the shoulders."

Elaine laughed, slipped on a thin silver necklace, and walked over to Jack. She sat beside him on the couch, reached over, and slipped a hand in through his shirt, undoing the first two buttons so she could caress his sternum.

"It is true women prefer a tall man. The fabled six feet."

"Hey." The poor boy scrunched up his nose as he squinted at his great grandsire.

"You are a small man, but with a wonderful physique. Show it off, childe of mine. Yes, women prefer tall, but they will also be delightfully surprised that the little man has taken care of himself physically, to the point of acquiring the body of a professional athlete." She grinned, and leaned in, snuggling to his side as she teased her fingers up and down his chest. "And women find a man who has the determination and will to master his own body quite attractive."

Jack squirmed a little, but did not stop Elaine. "I built the body, sure, but I only maintained it for like, a week, before I was embraced. I was hungry all the damn time before. I don't do a thing to maintain it now."

"The joys of being Kindred. Enjoy it, childe of mine."

"Elaine," Antoinette said, "come here and choose a dress for me, if you please."

"Very well." Elaine ran a finger along Jack's neck, before she strutted her way over, each step ensuring Jack's eyes drifted to her round derrière. Depressed as the boy may be, he could not help but watch. Understandable, considering it was Elaine and Antoinette toying with him.

"What color?" Antoinette asked, and she gestured to the hanging dresses beside her.

"Black."

"Always with the black."

"Black contrasts your white hair."

"That does not mean I wish to wear only black for the rest of eternity."

"Then you should not have altered your hair to be permanently white."

"Perhaps I should dye it to be blonde?"

"Imitation is the greatest form of flattery." Rolling her eyes, Elaine plucked a dress from the rack, and as Antoinette slipped out of her skirt and underwear, Elaine slipped the dress on over her head.

A loose thing, backless, with tiny shoulder straps. Barely more than a tiny, thin towel, meant to drape over the breasts, and hang before tightening to the waist and wrapping the hips and ass. It meant she would not be able to lean forward without her breasts falling free of the dress. Not that she usually minded, but it was an annoying dance, to constantly be aware of one's posture.

Antoinette looked to Jack in the mirror. His eyes had fallen, and his mind drifted elsewhere, likely to dark thoughts.

"My love, would you like for Ashley and Julee to come, and pleasure you while Elaine and I change? This could take a few moments yet."

"No thanks."

Elaine chuckled as she looked to Jack in the mirror. "You could always masturbate while watching us change. There is a certain charm in that."

"No thanks."

The boy's great grandsire turned and faced him. "I could take care of you, while she changes?"

"Girls, I'm alright, okay? Just thinking."

Girls? Antoinette chuckled, slipped the dress off, and Elaine found her a new one. Similar to the last, this one surrounded and hugged her bust tight. Decidedly less slutty, and a surprise, coming from her old friend.

"Forgive us, my love. But it saddens us to see you morose." Antoinette slipped out of the dress. "I feel like exposing skin tonight, but I do not want to have to dance with each step."

"I see I see." Elaine put the dress away, and found another.

She stepped into the dress, and pulled the black fabric up over her hips where it fit snug. The long, wide straps connected at the back of the skirt, crossed at the chest, and hooked behind the neck, the X over the chest hugging each breast snug. It was also just barely, slightly see-through.

"That looks pretty good," Jack said. Both women looked at each other, and chuckled. "Hey, I know I don't have any fashion sense, but I like--"

"Breasts," Elaine said, and to prove her point, she stepped beside Antoinette, facing Jack while Antoinette still faced the mirror, and she cupped one of Antoinette's breasts. The dress's chest strap hugged it tight, while also having enough give that her breast was free to fill and conform to Elaine's hand. "I picked the dress for this reason, of course. If you are going out with your busty lover, why not show off that bust?"

"You two are worse than Jessy." Jack rolled his eyes, but he sneaked a couple peeks as Elaine continued to gently bounce Antoinette's breast. Depressed as he was, he was a young man, and forever would be. A couple women willing to show off their bodies for him was one reliable way to distract him from his own misery. Temporarily, at least.

Antoinette gently slapped Elaine's hand away, and turned to her own vanity desk. A black dress it was, so she had a wide assortment of jewelry that would match. Such was the wonders of a black dress.

Jack watched as the two women tried different forms of jewelry. Bracelets, necklaces, rings, and earrings. Predictably, he grew bored, no longer distracted by them as they lost themselves in the joy of fashion experimentation. Antoinette came up from her desk fifteen minutes later, finally having settled on some subtle earrings and a more pronounced necklace. Pearls. A timeless classic, arranged in a helix-like pattern beneath her collar. But alas, Jack's eyes had drifted down yet again, and his expression had soured.

She would have to work hard to distract him tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took the two women half an hour of trying different suits and jewelry on the boy to find a nice balance while also experimenting with the new color, and Jack stood there, obviously annoyed with being the center of their fun. But a small part of him enjoyed it, she knew, and every time he rolled his eyes as they stripped him out of a suit, unsatisfied, she laughed.

They settled on a dark blue suit for the young man. Very dark, with a hint of green. Double breasted, no tie, with a black shirt. And to finish the ensemble, a silver necklace, a couple silver rings, and a rather beautiful silver watch. Handsome, professional, but also playful and a touch mischievous.

They entered Bloodlust, and immediately all eyes found the three of them. Of course. They were gorgeous. Many of the denizens were used to seeing Antoinette and Elaine these days, but it had been a little while since they had last visited. The men and women of the club watched, eyes wandering over the two women, and the boy that stood between them. Newcomers were, unsurprisingly, surprised that a young man like Jack had two tall, curvy, gorgeous women on his arms, but now that the war was over, they would be seeing such a trio more in the future.

Bloodlust was an unusual place. A club, but not truly a club. And while the bottom floor had tables and booths, it also had a bar, and dance floor, where the prey danced to the heartbeat music. And upon the second floor were the large booths, capable of fitting ten people or more, where the music was a tad quieter, and the patrons were willing to spend thousands of dollars for service and space.

Arturo, Natasha, and Matthew already sat at the table. Beside Matthew sat Jessy, and beside her sat Eric. Elaine took advantage of the situation, slid into the booth first, and set herself beside Eric, quite close, shoulder touching his.

"Hey, bitch, he's mine." Jessy leaned forward over the booth table and gave the ancient Ventrue an angry glare. She knew very well Elaine was ten fold her age, and yet she felt comfortable enough to be aggressive. How playful.

Elaine chuckled and dismissed Jessy with a small swipe of the hand. "Hello to you too, Gangrel."

"Jessy."

"Yes, of course, Jessy."

Jack rolled his eyes, and slid into the booth, leaving Antoinette to sit beside him close to the outer edge of the booth. Normally Antoinette sat in the center of the group, but to sit on the outside edge was a novelty she had not tasted in some time.

"Natasha," Antoinette said, nodding to the little Mekhet. "Arturo, Matthew, Eric, Jessy. You all look lovely tonight."

Little Vola smiled and waved. While her boyfriends wore loose button shirts with most buttons undone, and black jeans, she wore something far more scandalous. A tiny black skirt, terribly tiny, that left her hips and the hips of her thong exposed. And for her chest, a dangling piece of black fabric that tied to the neck with a small silver chain, and hung over the chest loose, unattached to anything. A glorified necklace, large enough to only barely cover her small breasts. If she leaned forward, everyone would see her delicious little torso.

Eric wore a purple suit. Bold. If he also wore gold jewelry, it would have been both hilarious and quite handsome, but no jewelry. Instead, a white shirt underneath the purple jacket, two buttons undone, simple and direct. Fitting for Eric Tanverson. The purple was likely Jessy's idea.

His mate wore something quite simple and direct. A black tube top, and a short black skirt, similar to Natasha's, though unlike her little friend, she wore no underwear. Natasha wore no jewelery on her neck, as her top was already essentially a necklace, while Jessy wore one piece of jewelry: a choker, thin, black, with a tiny silver heart dangling from its front center. The message was clear: Jessy was a hyper sexual creature. She woke up and went to sleep every night -- day -- with sex on her mind. If Eric had not become an Uratha, he would no doubt struggle to match her sex drive.

"Prince," Matthew and Arturo said, at the same time.

Eric nodded deeply. "Prince."

Jessy, perhaps a little reluctantly, eventually nodded toward Antoinette, a little deeper than she no doubt wanted. "Prince."

Antoinette returned their nods, with less depth, and smiled at the group.

"Where is Young and Burksen?"

"Young?" Matthew asked.

"Fiona Young."

"On the way," Jessy said. "Only been a couple weeks since Azamel died, right? I've talked to her a few times since, and she's been taking it pretty hard. Can't even say her name without the girl tearing up."

"Damien says the same thing," Jack said. "But she'll come. Probably."

"And we've prepared." Arturo gestured to the several bottles of whiskey on the table. Scotch, how drôle.

"She may be a paranomal," Elaine said, "but she is still partly human. Take care she does not kill herself with the bottle." Bloodlust did not provide bottle service in the same manner as other clubs. Acquiring a bottle and glasses was possible however, especially for an employee. Privacy was important in a Kindred-run night club that was half lounge, after all.

Eric reached out and grabbed one of the bottles. "It's a sipping whiskey. You really shouldn't shoot this. Enjoy the taste."

Jack shook his head. "Something tells me she won't sip it."

Arturo shrugged. "Far as I know, her Horror thing won't let her body get liver disease or alcohol poisoning. Probably not."

"Hard thing to know," Matthew said.

"Damien," Jack said, "is confident Fiona can recover from most injuries pretty quick. Not Uratha or Kindred quick, but quick enough."

"Probably a good thing," Jessy said. "She told me Damien drains her multiple times a week. And--oh hey, speak of the devil." The Gangrel waved as Damien and Fiona stepped into view.

Damien wore what everyone expected, a rather dark and professional, but subtle and quiet suit. No tie. Fiona had likely convinced the silly man to leave it behind, and undo the first two of his shirt buttons as well. If the man ever embraced his almost feminine beauty, he would be a force of pure seduction. Alas, like Daniel, it would never be.

Fiona on the other hand seemed quite eager to express her beauty. Not merely eager, excited. To her, it was a fun game, not to be won but to be shared. She was a delightful mixture of innocence and carnal salaciousness, as was her dress. Of course the tiny, busty creature walked up to the table, and slowly turned, fully expecting everyone at the table to admire. They did.

Green, yet again. Antoinette did not blame her, as the color contrasted her red hair, freckles, and pale skin beautifully. A backless dress with tiny straps of silver chains that hooked to the dress front that hugged her bust before holding her waist snug. The skirt was not as short as Jessy or Natasha's, but it was split at the right side, and the split reached up past her hip, exposing much of the green thong she wore. And of course, cute green heels, two inches.

The three werewolves, apparently communicating telepathically, all clapped, earning giggles and smiles from the tiny ginger, before she slipped into the booth entrance opposite of Antoinette, and slid in close to Arturo. Damien followed her in, bringing the total amount of people at the booth to ten.

Damien Burksen. Fiona Young. Arturo Ibarra. Natasha Vola. Matthew Wilson. Jessy Herrington. Eric Tanverson. Elaine. Jack Terry. And Antoinette.

Quite the group. Sometimes she wondered if she should invite Jacob and Samantha, but that was not what Jack needed right now. Othello and Aaron? Othello was a gorgeous man, and Aaron was oddly beguiling, but Antoinette knew little of the two men. Beatrice and Jennifer then? Perhaps. They would certainly bring spice.

But considering the people in the booth as was, there was plenty of spice already.

"Scotch?" Fiona rolled her eyes, poured herself a glass, and shot it. "Ye racist bawbags."

Natasha's werewolves blinked at each other, and Fiona burst into giggles as she poured another glass. But instead of drinking it, she slid it to Eric, who caught it with the confidence of a man who had caught many drinks in such a manner. She did the same for Matthew and Arturo, and they made a larger effort to ensure they did not get their pants soaked.

"Fiona hasn't had anything to drink in a couple weeks," Damien said. "She's making up for lost time."

"I!" Fiona waved her left hand in the air, finger up, as she shot another glass. Oh dear. "Am celebrating. Azamel is gone, and she told me I shouldnae be sad! I won't be sad anymore." Nodding, she poured a third glass. "To Azamel!" Before she could down the alcohol, Damien stopped her, which earned a sigh and nod from her. She sipped.

It had been some time since Antoinette had last tasted alcohol. Many Daeva Blushed Life and ate human food, only to vomit it later, and Antoinette did on occasion, but not for many years. She could barely remember the burn of alcohol on her throat, but she knew better than to shoot whiskey with such gusto. Fiona was apparently quite impervious.