A pilot chapter of sorts and a taste of what is to come.

This is only a teaser.

Involves violence, strong language and some sexual themes, read at your own risk.

MATURE AUDIENCES.

Masquerade Bar
8:00 pm

"Damn it!"

"I'm so sorry," the dark haired man apologised smoothly, looking from his half empty cup, to the dark stain that was spreading rapidly through the tight red material of the young lady's dress. His eyes lingered on the way the fabric clung tightly to her curves, emphasising her ample cleavage and the gentle swell of her feminine hips.

His gaze crept up along her body, taking in the deep V-cut of her dress, the scarlet of her lips and the way her hair hung down her back in sleek barrel curls. His eyes reached her face, in time to see the annoyed scowl that had been present, turn into something much more appreciative. He had to make a conscious effort not to puff out his chest in her open appraisal of him. She was young, that much was certain, but old enough to be legal, just out of high school by the look of her. Her smokey eyes met his own, and she gifted him with a sultry smile.

"Don't worry about it," her voice was low and husky, sending pleasurable shivers racing down his spine. She seemed to notice the effect she was having on him, lips curling into a confident little smirk.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?"

This time he was unable to prevent the way he preened at her question. "Michael Wallows, CEO."

"Well then," she arched a brow. "A rich man like you should have no problem buying me another drink."

He threw his head back and laughed at her youthful arrogance, feeling refreshed by it. Thoroughly amused by her antics, Wallows obliged, lifting a hand to get the bar tender's attention and gesturing to the two of them. The man nodded, and set about preparing a set of glasses and hunting around for a liquor to fill them.

"And what about you gorgeous?" He drawled.

"Courtney Smith," she returned, leaning casually over the freshly cleaned table top, the seemingly innocent motion providing him with a tantalising view of her cleavage, one that had his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "What's a handsome place like you doing in a guy like this?"

He laughed again at her joke, taking a liking to the cheeky seductress now seated beside where he stood.

"Celebrating, actually. I just completed a company merger."

Her eyes widened in visible awe. "Congratulations Mr Wallows, you must be proud. Are your friend's here with you? Maybe they could join us for another drink or two?"

"Call me Michael," he said, nodding to the bartender who set down two generously filled glasses of amber in front of them, putting down a crumpled bill even as Courtney was reaching for her drink. "And no, they all had plans for tonight."

"Well maybe I could keep you company then?" She offered without missing a beat, not breaking eye contact as she took a deliberate sip from the tumbler, pink tongue darting out to catch the hint of foam clinging to the corner of her lips.

"I think I'd like that very much Miss Smith."

"Please," she gave him the sultry smile once again. "Call me Courtney."

Masquerade Bar
11:35 pm

The doors to the club opened, and out stepped a giggling raven haired girl, clinging to the arm of an older man. She fairly stumbled down the sidewalk, him holding her up as they went. He whispered things against the shell of her ear, no one else around to hear them, things that caused a pretty blush to stain her cheeks, with something other than intoxication.

Without warning, she turned her head, and captured his lips in a deep kiss that caught his senses to go into overdrive. The smell of her surrounded him, her vanilla shampoo making him take in deep, greedy lungfuls, the scent of her body wash driving him wild with desire, a tantalising aroma that could only be described as sugar cookies.

He staggered when she jumped against him, taking him by surprise, pure instinct being the only reason why he caught her beneath the thighs, hoisting her lithe frame close to his body. Her long legs wrapped around his slim waist, and somehow he managed to navigate the two of them into a nearby alleyway without tripping over. She kissed him hungrily, finger nails digging into his shoulders, raking them down his back, surely drawing blood in their wake. He pressed her against the cold bricks, entirely too drunk for his own good. Thankful for the shadows created by the close proximity of the buildings around them, Michael Wallows was taking full advantage of her compliance, when he was cut short by someone tapping him on the shoulder.

"Fuck off why don't you?" He murmured against Courtney's lips, just loud enough for them to hear, figuring it was a homeless person or one of the nosey drunks that were frequent around these parts at this time of night.

There was another tap, and once again, he broke away from his conquest, this time however, it was because of her sudden outburst of giggles. He pulled back momentarily and looked at her in confusion, only to find her staring back at him, mirth and a sadistic sort of amusement dancing in her grey eyes.

"Courtney?"

"Surprise," she replied, sounding entirely different from the drunken, breathy bint he had been snogging moments ago. Instead, she sounded mischievous, menacing, and not at all intoxicated like he had thought. Still, he was pretty surprised when she threw her head forward, her forehead crunching into his nose.

He dropped her, reeling back, tripping on something or other and landing on his behind, grazing his tailbone in the process, leaving him momentarily winded.

"Bitch!" He cursed, glaring up at her through watery eyes, rapidly blinking away the tears that had sprung there. He cupped his face, and felt something warm and sticky gushing between his fingers, a glance revealed that his hand was quickly becoming coated in his own blood, the same colour, he realised, as Courtney's lips.

The woman in question didn't seemed fazed by his slur, or the blow to her head. Instead, she stood before him, in front of the wall he had her pressed against mere minutes ago. She straightened her dress, not bothering to dust it off, and wiped her lips while smirking.

"Very original Michael."

He suddenly decided that he no longer liked the way his name sounded when she spoke it, that smirk however, he unfortunately still found incredibly sexy. He shuffled back along the concrete, trying to get away from the clearly insane woman he had had the misfortune of attracting, only to bump into a pair of legs. He looked up, and was met with the scowling face of a blond man, clad in a leather jacket, and at his side was another girl, clearly exotic, with textured looking curly hair.

"Now darling," Courtney said, drawing his attention away from the duo and back to her. She had lost her tone in favour of something that no longer held any traces of amusement, and instead was all business. Gone was her playful facade. She stalked toward him, nullifying the few meters he had put between them. Her gunmetal eyes glinted dangerously, and everything about her screamed 'predator.' The graceful, yet confident ease in which her posture had adopted, was borderline animalistic. She was beautiful, self-assured, and very, very scary. She was a panther, and he was her prey.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Courtney Smith?"

"Not even close sweet heart." She chuckled, filling him with fear rather than the arousal from before. She came to crouch in front of him, and he desperately wished he could run away, far away from the predator and her entourage.

"My name is Blair." She informed him, although the name did not ring any bells. "You might not have heard of me, that's a good thing. Now my father? I can guarantee that you've heard of him."

She paused, as if waiting for him to connect the dots, something he was failing to do. The dramatic tension filled the small space, and a wicked smile made itself known on her ivory features.

"Stark Monroe." She said in a deliberate fashion, and a kind of terror filled Michael Swallows to the brim, reaching the breaking point and flooding over. His green eyes widened, and he could feel the blood as it drained from his face. His leg shot up, not of his own accord, but from the spike of pure adrenaline that shot through him. She easily avoided the clumsy move, weaving out of the way without so much as losing her balance. He tried to get up and run, but a strong pair of hands clamped on his shoulders, forcing him to stay down.

"Not a very smart move Michael," Blair tutted, shaking her head in feigned disappointment. She held out an expectant hand, and was promptly given a sharp looking knife from the other girl. The wrapped hilt looked well worn, however the steel was well looked after, polished, the silver tones glinting in the moonlight, catching the beams in a way that was somehow beautiful.

"You owe my father money," she stated bluntly, wrapping her fingers around the hilt of the weapon. The motion was smooth and practiced, immediately it became obvious that she knew how to use it. "And a lot of it."

"I- I don't ha-a-ave it right now," he protested, reduced to stuttering. "B-but I swear I will, I just n-n-need more t...time."

"Oh you've had plenty of time, months. My dad was very kind, a little too patient if you ask me. Definitely a hell of a lot nicer than I would have been." Blair sneered mockingly, dragging the edge of her blade along the hem of his trousers, letting it catch and pull on the fibres, making him flinch in the process. Her voice turned mocking. "And a rich man like you shouldn't have any problem paying his debts."

"Whore," he bit out. Blair's expression turned livid, and her steel flashed across his cheek. He hissed in pain, the skin of his face already tender from the throbbing of his broken nose.

"I was sent here to get my dad's money and to have some fun with my friends when I was done, but clearly we all don't get what we want, now do we Michael?" Blair hissed, lunging so her face was inches from his own, the depths of hell reflecting in her eyes.

"Lucky for me, my dad gave me some other instructions too. Just in case you didn't have the thirty thousand you owe him, and personally? I think this is going to be a lot more fun."

She leaned back, that evil grin back at home on her lips again. It didn't seem fair that an expression so fear inspiring could only serve to enhance the woman's beauty.

"Hey Roo?" Blair said, eyes flickering to the girl she was addressing. "Get his mouth for me, will you?"

There was no verbal response, but the girl complied, a tanned hand covering his mouth.

Blair used her knife to split his pants up the front of his leg, from cuff to knee, before resting the cool blade against the skin of his thigh.

"Don't scream."