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Name: Haley | Gender: mademoiselle | Age: 25 | Posts: 4,279 | Roses: 0
Old 03-26-2017 at 10:15 PM
angelofthenight
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Damon Caffrey

Damon loved a good game of chess. From a very young age he had found the battle of wits invigorating and thrilling. At the age of nine he would challenge anyone that was willing to potentially crush the enthusiasm of a young, innocent boy. Yet Damon had always been intelligent and could hold his own against the most experienced of players. One of the biggest tricks of the game was predicting what your opponent would do next and what you would do if such a move was made. You always had to be a couple moves ahead, that is if you wanted to take the king and claim victory. Sometimes a really good player would simply want to toy with his opponent, taking each piece one at a time until a loss was inevitable. That had been Damon’s favorite thing to do. Slowly but surely his opponent’s ranks would dwindle into the king was cornered and there was no way for him to get out. He supposed this style of play fed Damon’s need for dominance and to show that he could exercise power over the person he was up against. Unsurprisingly this tendency and translated itself into Damon’s adult life in a unique way. Often he sized up the woman he chose to invest himself in as an opponent in chess. He only settled on players that he knew could hold their own. Some times that meant taking them out for a drink, or dinner; which was slightly more of a commitment but easily explained away of Damon decided his time was too valuable to waste on the date he had selected for the evening. There had only ever been one person that he had felt had been a truly worthy opponent:

Kate.

And n ow this woman, who seemed untouched by his efforts to show her that he wasn’t just the prowling type. Damon appreciated a beautiful body, like every guy that dance their way through the club that evening; but what Damon appreciated more was the inner beauty. It sounded almost poetic and Damon prided himself in being a romantic. After all, he had broken out of prison for the only woman he had ever truly loved. He liked knowing that the women he paid his attentions too were intelligent and witty, that they; though unknowingly; could engage in Damon’s game and not simply crumple under the pressure of his intense gaze or easy smile that caused far too many women to swoon into a puddle at his feet, reminding him that he could have his way with most women. But Kate had not been most women and neither was this ravishing creature in front of him. He was determined to walk away with at least a date to have drinks a setting that was more his style. She had caught him on a night that he had been trying to blow off some steam. Since he was new to the city it wasn’t like he had some women picked out that he could go see in order to drown his thoughts in the forgetful web of lust and pleasure. Yes, sex was one of the ways that Damon cleared his head. Some people took brisk walks in the cool night air; others screamed into pillow and used the poor unsuspecting fabric of a couch as a punching. Damon slept with women, or forged a piece of art or a nice bond that would fetch him far too much money. Damon was unconventional and that was arguably what made him both interesting; and untouchable.

Yet the woman, who a bartender had informed him was a regular named Demetria, was doing her best to figure him out. That much he could see in the way she danced around his question about her name. She clearly didn’t want to give it to him and while Damon liked to know the names by which to call the women he was interested in. Yet she clearly didn’t want him to have that upper hand on him since she didn’t know his name either. They got into a conversation, the sexual tensions was palpable as they learned in closer to each other for the briefest of moments for the short exchange. Yet Demetria still seemed unimpressed, almost annoyed at his words. At least what he was saying was having any effect on her at all. She lounged back away from him and the sexual tension dissipated a little as the noise of the crowd seemed to penetrate their intimate conversation. Damon would have to do better than just wits to get this woman’s attention and he was up for the challenge, it wasn’t the typical way he approached things but he could change gears. Damon had spent his life changing who he was for the hell of it, and he was ready for this thrilling new adventure.

“Typically, when one gets a gift…” She mused and he watched her fish the last cherry of her drink with a slender finger, he wondered if she was a musician of sorts; a pianist or a string instrument perhaps. Many women with fingers like hers persued such careers; but he wasn’t about to box her in the way she had done with him. The made things boring. He was amused that she would call the drink a gift. What a strange gift… perhaps he would have to correct that point. “like a drink from a complete stranger,” he could tell she didn’t like the idea of his efforts to get her name. So he would back off on that front. If she wanted to play hard to get Damon could play, it almost as good as chess. Almost. “She is free to do what she wants with said gift.” he watched her tease him with the glance, she was clearly more relaxed from the alcohol then she had been when he’d first sat down with her. Perhaps she didn’t realize it just yet, but she seemed to be letting her guard down just a little; a chink in the armor of her distant and aloof exterior. “You probably assumed I’d just say yes to your dance offer…or you’re purposefully trailing along this false path of questions just to spit us back right where we started in this conversation….all of which still gets my attention because perhaps I’m too kind to deny friendly, yet circular conversation…but that’s just how I am. One of my flaws, I take it.” she mused, alluding to his previous comment and Damon smiled. She was rambling a bit. He wondered how long it had been such a man had tried to make such advances on her. She seemed comfortable but unwilling to let him in. She had likely had been hurt before… what woman hadn’t? Damon probably wasn’t the best to show her that men don’t hurt the women they care about because he wasn’t exactly the knight in shining armor. He was more like the wandering rogue, the one that all the women with fantasies of dark and mysteries love affairs fell for. Katherine hadn’t been that type, and neither was this girl. He preferred it that way.

“Dare I say, you probably assume two drinks is my cap and that I’m close to wasted.” she said and he could see that her guard went down a little further as she mulled over the thought. He would never do her the disservice of believing she couldn’t hold her alcohol. While he noted her slightly relaxed position against her seat he would be the first to defend her coherency and composure to anyone who dared question it. Clearly, she he had thought he had doubted her lucidity or her presence of mind. He smiled, she wasn’t reading him as well as she thought. “Gifts should be given freely, and I thank you for this one. However, your conditions ruin that freedom.” she said and Damon smiled to himself, taking a sip of his own drink. Either her comment was for the sake of making conversation or she really believed that gifts came with no strings attached. Even a bauble of sorts from one lover to another came with the expectation that joy and increased passion would follow. Even the giving of love came at a price, with the hope of being loved in return. There was no freedom in giving of one’s self or one’s positions. The life of a criminal had taught Damon that as he cut ties with anyone he’d ever cared about and looked out only for himself. He wondered if the woman in front of him understood that and then decided he didn’t care that much. Her worldview was as attractive as the finger that continued to play with the cherry stem she now fiddled with. Damon was smitten in a way that he hadn’t been smitten in a while. It seemed that a week that had started with an unexpected run in with a blast from the past was turning into a fine week for sure. Yes Damon was adjusting to French life beautifully, and the woman in front of him was a nice touch.

“Now if you actually want to have a conversation with me, riddle me this…you act like you own the damn place, but none of my friends say they’ve seen you around?” she asked and Damon wasn’t surprised that she knew the people who worked her. They had been throwing glances their way since Damon had sat down next to her. Some of them were disapproving, others were just curious. It was the curious ones that amused Damon most. They had all seen him on the dance floor, making his way from woman to woman; preying on their needed to feel included in the festivities of the evening. Yet the Damon that had been working his way across the floor did not have the same intentions with the woman that sat next to him. The woman that sat next to him deserved to know the finer things in life. She deserved passion that made her heart melt and excitement that made that aloof demeanor crumple into sweet and thrilling desire that Damon was certain he could help her experience. It would take a lot of work. But just like a good game of chess he was making each move with clarity and precision. “I haven’t seen you around here and that’s saying something considering that, to you, I sit around here on Wednesday nights.” she said, a flirtatious flair in her voice that made him feel like he was getting somewhere after all, “It’s only sometimes true.” She admitted, the serious note in her voice returning as she seemed to ponder how often she drank alone on the weekends. Frequently enough for the staff to know her intimately; intimately enough that they cared that trouble like Damon had come knocking at Demtria’s door. “And now my friends are giving you the stink eye back there. What’s your case, my friend?” she asked, and Damon wondered momentarily if she had sought to shut down his advances by the use of the word friend; a way of keeping him at arms length until she figured out what it was that he was up to. She had to know, surely a woman of her looks and maturity had to know that a man like him just wanted to show her a good time.

More for her benefit then his need to survey his surroundings he took a moment to survey some of the people who had decided that he and Demetria where their evening entertainment, a nice show to accompany the sultry jazz piece that wafting through the club as couples danced closer and more intimately. It was clear that a few of them would be going home shortly and not alone. The woman had been offering bits of herself unknowingly to Damon all night, her concern that she spent too much time alone and drove people off was clear. It was time for Damon to allow her in. Just enough to make her feel like this conversation was exactly that a conversation. “I’m new to the scene… in Paris…” he told her, unceremoniously finishing the rest of his drink as he returned his gaze to her after skimming the club briefly. It was good to maintain an awareness of his surroundings anyway, one could never be too careful. “Just looking for a good time…” he said with a knowing smile in her direction. “Someone to show me the… finer things… of the city…” he said and then added in his own flirtatious tone. “I’m hoping to find someone who would do it… freely…” he emphasized the word, recalling her point about gifts and freedom… she didn’t want any strings attached and he was willing to play that game… he wanted to play that game. Damon Caffrey was not the serious type. He didn’t sit around fantasizing about a suburban home with kids playing in the backyard and a dog named Sam laying right in the walkway. No. Damon fantasized about beautiful women, breathtaking views, whirlwind evenings on the town and in bed that one was sure to not soon forget. “If that is some thing that interests you…” he lowered his voice as he leaned, allowing his hand to cover hers for a moment as he hovered close to her ear taking in the scent of her; as intoxicating as the rest of her. “I would check your clutch…” he said, and leaning back he picked up his drink and rose; smiling he winked and headed for the door. If she looked she would find in her purse a note which read simply.

6:00pm. Tomorrow. L'Arpège. No strings attached.

OOC: End Scene. Now let's see if Demi will actually show. BIC:


Like the sound of silence calling I hear your voice and suddenly I'm falling lost in a dream
Like the echoes of our souls are meeting you say those words my heart stops beating
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