And One for the Boys
And One for the Boys
Summary: Andi auditions to be a dancer at the private club.
Date: 80 ACH
Related Logs: One for the Ladies
Players:
Andi..Nicholas..Sasha..

Private Club Destiny - Deck 9
80 ACH 23817 Souls


This is, or was, a private men's club aboard the cruise liner. Simple, yet effective. Low lighting, with a tinge of gold, sets the scene as scantily clad women move about. Yes, this is a strip club. Booths surround the walls, while small tables litter the rest of the room. To one side, a long bar is set, while across from it a cresant moon catwalk, complete with poles on the stage, and stools next to it, allows the customer to see the lovely ladies dancing.

In the back, across from the hatch leading out, is a curtained doorway, leading to the back office, as well as a few private 'VIP' rooms.

Please read +lhelp rating


The club isn't quite open yet for the night, at least not on the entertainment stage. There are a few people here, boozing it up at the bar or straggled around the tables, but the lighting's rather neutral while the staff prepares the place for the busy hours that are coming. Nicholas is sitting alone at a small table with a glass of something clear on a coaster nearby. Legs crossed at the knee, he flips idly through a few pieces of paper.

Off hours is the perfect time to come apply for a job, when its mainly regulars and the evening crowd hasn't poured out of work yet. Andi's the type that exudes confidence, it goes hand in hand with playing on the court for as many years as she has. But apparently that's not cutting the mustard in this post-holocaust world. With a slight roll of her shoulders, she moves towards the bar, leaning over it slightly to get the bartender's attention and ask him a quiet question. With a nod, she's directed to Nicholas' table, so that's where she's headed in short order. "May I?" She asks, but without waiting for an answer, she spins out an empty chair and drops down into it backwards, straddling the furniture.

Nicholas looks up from his paper, raising an eyebrow as she sits. "Possibly." He pulls the top sheaf of paper off and tucks it at the back. "Who are you?"

Andi shifts her weight slightly to one side, offering her hand out. She's not masculine, persay, but she certainly is aggressive. "Andi Kerry. Your new dancer." Its said with a bit of a smirk that's almost touching on arrogant.

Nicholas reaches out to shake the hand. It's not a hearty shake, given a single up-down and then he withdraws his hand back to his lap. "Kerry. Aren't you that pyramid player? Dancers generally don't look good covered in bruises."

Sasha's been lurking somewhere in the back, in the vicinity of the dressing rooms. He's having what appears to be either a conversation, or a fitting session with someone else back there. Maybe both, though the former's stilted by the amount of tucking, untucking, patting and pinning that's going on.

Andi smirks to that, "Soft and sensitive and sensual, and shit. Sure. I get that." Her head bobs once in a nod before her hand returns to be folded with her arm over the back of the chair. "But how many of your customers are sports fans too?Could be a draw, seeing one of their favorite players strip outta their jersey." A pause. "Not that I'll wear my actual colors up there. Look, the games a few and far between and even practice lately is a joke. I need the dough. Its not like we charge admission to what games we /do/ play, and there sure as Frak aren't any promoters out there looking to recruit players any more. I need the job, you need fit ass on that stage. We can do each other both the favor."

"Takes more than a fit ass," Nicholas says in a mild voice. "This isn't a brothel, and I'm not looking for easy tricks." He taps his papers against the tabletop, squaring them up. "I want style, I want class, and I want dancers who can dance. Which you can tell me you are until you're blue in the pretty face, but I'll need an audition. Are you ready to show me one?"

Andi smirks a bit at the part regarding tricks. There are some things she's prepared to do, and others she'll just let people assume she is. "Throw me up some music." She says without bulking. "Stage or a private performance?" She pushes up out of her chair, her athleticism allowing her to do so smoothly and without any strain.

"Stage," Nicholas pronounces with a soft snort, as though the other option were just too dull for words. He turns his head, profile to the bar, and calls over. "Roy. That audition CD, the one Mina used. Slip that on for us, would you."

Andi doesn't take it as an insult, in fact, she even flashes a wink to Nicholas. Some people prefer fish, some prefer red meat. As Roy messes with getting the music ready, she nonchalantly slips off her worn running shoes. Jeans and a tank will have to work for her 'dance wear', until she has reason to procure something more appropriate. As the tunes kick in, she has to resist the urge just to jump on the stage. This is an audition, not an awards ceremony after the all-star game. One bare foot on stage, she presses her weight up with slow deliberance, letting her first leg straighten her up onto the platform with her other foot trailing behind like she's slowly getting out of a pool and dragging her toe through the water. She knows eyes are on her, she just has to make it count.

Sasha's head turns slightly when the music sputters to life. The costumer is trying to hem in the waistband of the trousers he's fitting, and gives the kid's hip a little tug along with a muttered word to stand still. Sasha squints a little at the woman on stage, like he recognises her from somewhere.

Nicholas gives an idle glance at his fingernails while Roy fiddles with the soundtrack. He re-crosses his legs, letting his hand drape across his knee and resting the other elbow on the table, temple setting against his fingertips. His chin is slightly lifted, attentive to the display he's asked for.

Andi slinks a couple of steps towards the pole, eyeing it as if trying to remember how exactly they used to do this. Frak it, she's going to do what she knows best. Her last sauntering steps turn into a quick hop and bound before she's grabbing the alcoholed pole almost at full tilt. The dryness of the metal against her palm keeps enough friction so she doesn't go flying off, the momentum causing her to twirl and one backwards hooked leg keeping her rooted to the center. Not far off the ground, but a good cleared foot of the floor as she twines down the pool and ends with a slow step away.

Sasha is still trying to remember where he knows this girl from. The sifting through names and faces is almost visible as he scrutinises Andi. Meanwhile, he's dutifully lifting his arms as inseams are checked and the knot of the tie loosened a fraction. It's not much of a show if you're going to spend half of it trying to pry uncooperative clothing off.

Nicholas is still watching, papers politely left to the side rather than kept in his lap where they'll distract him. He watches Andi critically but not disapprovingly, how someone might watch a new sculpture being turned around on a platform in an art gallery.

Andi starts to roll her hips in a lazy suggestive manner as she prowls to one edge of the stage, arms crossing over her abdomen and each hand taking a bit of hem from her tank top. When the music hits a particularly heavy set of beats, she pivots on the ball of one foot. Just like getting around an opponent for a pass on the court, Andi. While she turns, the shirt is stripped up and off, arms tugging it high above her head. Once it clears, her body rolls in a serpentine manner, accentuated at the end with a pop of her hip and her shirt being flicked behind her on the stage. Don't need someone walking off with her clothing, afterall.

A few more words are exchanged between Spring Fling over there, and the costumer. "Take a walk about, get a feel for the threads," he's being told. "Grab a drink at the bar and come back, there's plenty of work to do before the boss is gonna let you anywhere near that stage, kid." Smirking, Sasha tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and strolls over— not to the bar, but to a table riiiight in front of the stage, and hops up on top of it to watch Andi work the stage.

Nicholas' gray eyes flicker to the back of Sasha's head. When the young man sits down to watch Andi he looks satisfied, turning his attention back to the stage. The music keeps playing, working itself towards the climax.

Yes, she /does/ have a bruise, right beneath the line of her ribcage. But on her cocoa skin, it looks nothing more than a shadow. As someone makes their self comfortable near the stage, she's going to play towards him. A few slow steps are taking towards Sasha, but near the end she's dropping to all fours in a crawl. At the edge, she suddenly shifts backwards. Resting on her shins, she archs her back neatly, resting a shoulder on the ground and lifting her hips to quickly peel apart the jeans at the closure, pushing them down her hips enough to show a flash of red undergarment. At the height of the song, she flips over, now facing away from Sasha. With a flick of her head that telegraphs all the way down her spine, she's now back on her haunches and slowly undulating to the music.

A guy would have to be blind and perhaps catatonic, not to enjoy this show. Sasha's attention is most definitely caught by the woman performing not a few feet in front of him. He's not really gawking, so much as appreciating. And maybe still trying to figure out who the frak she is.

Nicholas gives his fingernails another glance and then calls towards the bar. "Alright, that's enough." BLIP, music's shut off. There was no stage lighting so that doesn't shift any. Andi's just left in silence, and a couple wolf whistles from random guys parked in the shadows.

Andi gives a laugh and presses back to her feet, padding towards the back of the stage to retrieve her shirt. Its not pulled back on, immediately, rather the fabric is used to drag across her forehead, then its slung over her shoulder like a towel. As she makes her way back towards the edge of the stage, her pants are refastened. A hop off, then Andi's heading towards Nicholas to get her review.

Not bad. Not bad at all. Sasha's pivoting on his planted hand and rolling smoothly off the table once the music cuts, to land with a catlike little hop on the floor. He's off for the bar then, weaving in between a few people who'd congregated to observe the impromptu little show. "She's pretty good, huh?" is mentioned conversationally to Nicholas, whom he happens to reach a few moments before Andi does.

"Quite," Nicholas remarks to Sasha. "Rather like I wish you had been." He gives Andi a quiet golfclap as she comes back towards him, his expression becoming a pleasant smile. "My goodness, I didn't know they played pyramid with poles. I'm impressed."

Andi lifts her chin slighly in a nod of gratitude towards Sasha, though her eyes soon return to Nick with a smirk. "Credit for that goes to the support poles on the roof of my parents' back porch, and too many nips at daddy's liquor cabinet.. so that a yes?" She asks, Only now wiggling back into her shirt, now that she's cooled back off a hint.

Sasha ducks his eyes when that trainwreck of a performance is mentioned, and leans forward with his elbows on the counter, chin resting upon palms. That way, Nicholas won't see him red-faced and awkward, perhaps. His back is to Andi, and he's looking more interested at the moment in the drink that Roy's preparing, than the conversation going on nearby.

"Absolutely." Nicholas nods to Andi, that smile still gracing his lips. "We'll just print up your pay details and get you a keycard for the dressing rooms and everything. You'll have a fitting with the costumer who will undoubtedly squeal from here to the Carina over your lovely skin, and then we'll be ready to go." His hands make a light, definitive clap. "Oh, and we'll need something to call you onstage. Hmm." He's been ignoring Sasha through most of this, but now gestures at the other dancer. "Spring Fling here looks like he's been dying to meet you for ten minutes now."

Andi glances in Sasha's direction again, "He looks more like a Summer Romance to me." Really, that's a complement, and a look at the man's butt that she doesn't bother veiling. "But I defer to your expertise when it comes to my stage name. Just prefer /not/ to be called Pixie. That's what they call me on the court." She comments back towards Nick while she heads in Sasha's direction. Leaning a hip to the bar next to him, she offers a hand. "Andi Kerry." She introduces. "Professional ball player, and now your co-worker it seems."

"Actually, I've been dying for a drink. You want to buy me a drink, honey?" Sasha twists around to lean his back against the bar in a lazy slouch, booted feet crossing at the ankles. "I'm also wondering where I've seen you before-" Oh. That answers it. He hesitates before grasping her hand, and giving it a firm shake. "Sasha." Just Sasha, apparently. "A Stinger, right?"

"No, pixie is a little too…pedophilic for my tastes." Nicholas settles back in his chair, watching their conversation as he starts to think.

Andi has muscle behind her return shake with Sasha, delicate flower she is not. "Stinger. That's right." She gives a grin back at Nicholas about his assessment of her courtside monikker. "Whatever you think, boss." There's a lazy roll of her shoulders, as if she's still winding down from her dance and almost itching to be active again.

Sasha elbow-nudges Nicholas and gives a little loft of one brow. Stinger, maybe? Evidently though, she's not going to buy him a drink, so the young man's pushing away from the bar and strolling off again toward the back. Time to play dressup some more.

Nicholas gives Sasha an annoyed look when the man touches him. Honestly, now. He makes a quiet huff and picks up his papers, standing. "Well, Andi. I'll see you in the evening, hopefully ready to show the crowd that lovely face. Among other things. Welcome to the club." He smiles at her and turns to head for the back area behind the bar.

Andi moves off to go get her paperwork, get fitted for whatever contraption she'll be in later, and get settled into the dressing room. She got a job! Yay!

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License