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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 12-19-2010 at 06:16 PM
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Old 12-29-2010 at 06:21 AM
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Jennifer Hennings

The glass was warm and smooth in her hand as the clear, strong-smelling fluid went back and forth inside it. She rocked it a little to get the vodka on the sides. The alcohol stuck to the glass like molasses and slowly, slowly, very slowly slid back down to join the rest of the vodka. Mm, mm, mm. That was how you knew you got the good shtuff. The more it stuck to the side, the more drunk-inducing the drink would make you. Jen wasn't really a big vodka drinker. It was potent stuff and even Jen could only handle moderate amounts of it.

But here she was sitting next to Myron, listening to his problems. She - and Myron - needed the drink. Vodka was the stuff for forgetting your problems. And boy did the both of them need to forget their problems. Fast. Jen asked him to spill it all out, to get all his problems out there and get 'em off his chest. She steadied herself with her hand on the desk behind her and held her drink with the other hand. Myron held the bottle. She smiled over at him. It was obvious the vodka was already getting to them. Hell, the vodka was already getting to her, too. Again, vodka usually wasn't her drink of choice.

"My relationship just went.." His hand unsteadily flew up and then down. It landed on her leg. Her thigh kind of tingled with his warm hand on it. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad kind of tingle, so she took another drink. Yeah, as if a drink would clear up her head. "But it didn't land somewhere that nice, unfortunately." Jen giggled - giggled? That was weird - and watched as he took a good swallow from the bottle. Boy did she know how that felt, the whole "crashing rocket" thing. "I know what you mean, partner," she straightened herself up and took her hand from the desk to pat him on the hand. "Iss okay. You know..." what was she going to say? Jen paused a moment and tasted the inside of her mouth, trying to remember. Oh yeah... "Ya just gotta repair the ship, ya know?" She grabbed the bottom of his wrist and lifted up his hand. "And then ya gotta jus'... vroom..." She unsteadily piloted his hand over to his side. "Yeah?" And then she let it go.

"I got the same sort of situation. All just went to hell. Here, gimme' more, will ya?" Jen pushed her glass in front of him. Keep the drinks coming. It would take a lot of drinks to get Ray out of her head. Dang it. There she goes again. Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray. Always inside her head like some- like some- thing that went into people's heads. Why did boyfriend-girlfriend things have to be so difficult to deal with? Shouldn't it be easy? "Hey, I love you." "I love you, too." Was that so God damn hard? No, no, it wasn't. But Ray... There was something wrong with him. Or maybe there was something wrong with her. Whatever. She needed another drink.


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Name: Cassie | Gender: Señorita | Posts: 4,083 | Roses: 185
Old 02-09-2011 at 05:39 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Was there anything harder to take seriously than Ke$ha? The girl was from a dirt-broke, single-parent family, had an IQ of—like—a zillion, and yet her oh-so-inspiring lyrics included “Ain’t got a care in the world, but got plenty of beer”, “We R Who We R” and (Madeleine’s personal favorite) “I like your beard”. Only Lady Gaga or Nikki Minaj surpassed her in bad make up. And, seriously. The woman had a dollar sign in her name. But for all that was utterly ridiculous about Ke$ha there was something that drew Madeleine to her like a moth to a flame. She feasted her eyes on each music video. Each new single was a treat to her ears. She danced to “Tik Tok” while readying for her days at the Rouge. “Dinosaur” was her theme song for the icky, aging Rouge patrons who came to lech at her girls. A few nights ago, she crooned out her interpretation of “Your Love is My Drug” while admiring her engagement ring. The songs just got lodged in her head and slipped out. But it wasn’t just Madeleine going crazy. If you walked into any club lately, her pounding, techno-y music rocked the dance floors. In the words of Ke$ha herself, she made “the hipsters fall in love”. She wasn’t exactly a Maria Callas or Madonna, but she was an entertainer. A crowd pleaser.

And that was why Madeleine had to find a way to get Myron to take Ke$ha seriously.

Because crowd pleasing was their job.

At the Moulin Rouge, the numero uno goal was to entertain. And while her Rouge Girls were a mix of classically trained ballerinas, divas-in-training, and exotic performers looking to establish themselves in a more reputable venue, they all shared that goal. Hell. Myron shared that goal. Give the crowd what they wanted. And the masses had spoken. Ke$ha’s upbeat, sassy, if not brilliant music stylings were hot right now.

Also, Madeleine had a kick ass idea.

She was thinking of pulling out all the stops. Kick lines, sequins, pyrotechnics, acrobatics… Everything. Madeleine’s mind worked in images when it came to her choreography. She could close her eyes and BAM. It was all there. Every last detail. Each step, each hip twirl. Every rhythmic shimmy and shake. Everything.

It had taken her six hours to compile the main choreography. It had taken five more to get the background dancing in line. She’d consulted the best lighting and special effects technicians she knew in Paris and after about seven hours of that, she had a plan for the scenery and wow factors. Costuming, she couldn’t talk yet.

Because it all came down to this.

A half-hour pitch with her boss, Myron Bolitar.

But Madeleine still wasn’t sure if he would take her seriously. Madeleine was full of big ideas. She had the drive to pull them off. But she’d have to be a slave driver to get all the Rouge Girls pumped for the show. Plus, there was the issue of budget. She couldn’t just blow their entire revenue for an overly ambitious project. And then, of course, there was the fact that Madeleine was trying to talk up the queen of trashiness while wearing her best work clothes. She pressed her lips together.

Oh, come on, Mad, she thought. You’ve got this. You can always bribe him.

She smoothed her tongue over her teeth. Oh, yes, she could bribe him. She was his fiancée. And though wearing a pencil skirt, if Madeleine wanted, she could totally wear the pants if she set her mind to it. They took turns. And right now… It was Madeleine’s turn to take the reins. She looked down at the file she held in one hand. It had all her choreography notes, all the staging notes. With her free hand, she knocked on the door.

Show time…
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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 02-10-2011 at 07:50 AM
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Myron Bolitarhttp://www.yowazzup.com/blog/images/christian-bale.jpg

He was a professional man. When he was at the Rouge, he was professional.Because, he was the boss.But, he wasn't going to lie. When Myron Boilitar looked at his printed out agenda and saw: Meeting with Madeleine on it, he flashed a giddy grin. Which, could serve as a terribly frightening image. Myron, giddily grinning, to a piece of paper, in thoughts of his sexy bride to be. Hold the phone, though. It wasn't he was like Merv the Perv jacking off under the desk to it, he was just anxious for the break and seeing the woman he loved. Which, was ... not professional. Sometimes he wished professionalism would go to hell. Well, he was the boss. He could do whatever he want, to whoever he wanted at the Rouge, whenever he wanted. So, really, there was nothing really stopping him persay, for when Madeline walked through that door, that would make him not take her in his arms like a cheesy Fabio book, throw her on his desk, and make sweet passionate love. Well, alright, there was something holding him back. These things called morals, and the fact that it was a business meeting. Meaning, Madeleine had something to discuss with him. But, usually, she did whatever she damn well pleased. Which was why, that giddy grin he was talking about in the beginning, turned into a tiredsome gloom and doom eye droop. Alright. What was up Madeleine Ledoux's sleeve now? Well, if she was wearing a sleeve. Which, it was Mad. So, she probably wasn't. But she had it, so by all means, flaunt it. Just, only to him.

Myron ran a hand down his face, rocking back in his Godfather-esque leather chair, and turning his head to crack his neck. Tre' healthy, right? Yea. Whatever. Balancing the Rouge, talent agent-ing (new Bolitar verb), engagement life, engagement sex life, Santiago post break up depression insanity, Rachel post break up insanity, insanity in the world in general, starving kids in Africa with malnutricious beer kegged bellies (Yes, he thought about them too)- there was just a lot on his mind. Sometimes, he just wanted to be like... Stop... and the madness just to like... Stop. And that would be the valley girl version.

The tap on the door made him stop his internal dialogue, and stare at the door. Myron Bolitar cracked a genuine smile. The first one all day. Because behind that door, was the woman he loved. It was cheesy movie, but it was truth. She just seemed to make it all better.

"Hold on. I have to hide my prostitutes and put my pants back on!"

Oh, just a professional way to begin a business meeting. He grinned, still looking at the door, and slapped his dress shoes onto the top of his desk, entwining his fingers behind his head.

"Dollface, you don't have to knock you know."

Then, his features fell ...

Hopefully that was her. That would just be, awkward.


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Name: Cassie | Gender: Señorita | Posts: 4,083 | Roses: 185
Old 02-10-2011 at 08:17 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

The smile she wore was by no means faked. Even though presenting choreography was pretty much a performance in its own right. Though Madeleine wouldn’t need to perform the whole show for Myron or anything, she would have to sell it. Smiling helped. Besides, the highlight of her day—besides torturing back up dancers, shooting down prima donnas, and shooing over-amorous patrons from the dressing room—was seeing Myron.

"Hold on,” he called from inside the office. “I have to hide my prostitutes and put my pants back on!"

Madeleine chuckled. That was why she loved this man. Because he kept whores and never wore pants to work.

Kidding.

She loved his sense of humor—however wacky and wildly inappropriate. It had been the thing to win her over back in the day. That Myron was hot was a bonus. That the sex was great went without saying. It was his ability to make her laugh that clinched the deal. No one else brought her near as much joy as Myron did. He even made a freaking business meeting feel lighthearted and awesome.

"Dollface, you don't have to knock you know."

“How cute; you knew it was me by the sound of my knock,” Madeleine said dryly, opening the door with a grin.

She looked to see Myron lounging at his desk. She was so glad he took the edge off of these business meetings. Back at the Populaire, she always felt weird making choreography proposals. Probably because Santiago Ortiz used to hate her. And then—after being a complete ass to her—it dawned on him that she was his best friend’s girl. Then things had just been awkward and tense. But Myron put Madeleine at ease. This was the man she loved. The man she was going to marry. He didn’t judge. He didn’t mutter swear words at her in languages she didn’t understand. He propped his feet on his desk and called her “dollface”. Maybe dating the boss was a step back for feminism, but Madeleine didn’t really give a damn. She was happy. And as long as Myron didn’t send her to the kitchen to make him a sandwich, screw feminism.

“Let’s get business-y stuff done so we can go out for lunch,” she said brightly, taking the seat opposite Myron. “My treat if you say ‘yes’ to my new routine…”
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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 02-10-2011 at 09:23 AM
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Myron Bolitar


"How cute; you knew it was me by the sound of my knock."

To insert a sexual inneundo, or to not insert a sexual inneundo, that was the question. A grinning Myron Bolitar watched his office door open between his clicking dress shoes. Thank Christ Madeleine was witty. Life would just be boring. Just the sound of her voice made him all, proud future groom. And when she stepped into his office, he was one happy groom. Damn. She looked good. Myron knew that he would never stop saying that either. In a realtionship, there was always that point where it was, 'Oh. It's you.' But, it was Madeleine. Her entrances would always call for a 'hot damn'. Today, it very much deserved that. But then, the professional, or whatever was left of professional, side of him jolted. U-huh. Mad looked good. Too good. Myron Bolitar, Rouge owner, glared at her in suspicion as she approached his desk. What in the hell was this business meeting all about?

“Let’s get business-y stuff done so we can go out for lunch." Myron smiled at the ever so beautiful 'business-y' women sitting down across from him. “My treat if you say ‘yes’ to my new routine." Oh, she was good. Mentioning free lunch to an empty stomach, was like mentioning Viagra to a horny eighty year old in a room with Jennifer Lopez. You do the math. But, Myron Bolitar knew this game. Knew business. Knew Madeleine.

The Rouge owner slid his feet smoothly onto the proper ground, and folded his hands ontop of the desk, leaning toward her with a sly smirk, matching her oh-so sly trick. It was tempting, but it was not going to make him rush this meeting, or blindly go into something. A routine. It didn't seem so... ground breaking. Madeleine made up her own routines all the time. That was her job. So, she was coming to him, so that meant- this just wasn't any routine. It was her. The ideas in her brain could be endless. Brilliant, no doubt. But, it would not be out of context if Myron had to pull back the creative reigns a bit.

"How about," He purred, glinting into her eyes. "I treat if I say yes, and if I say no, and-" Folding her arms, he began rocking back and forth in his chair. "You tell me what this routine is going to cost me." Myron Bolitar knew that most everyone who walked into his office that was having a meeting about the choice that there job called for making, it was about money. Sure, he had money, but Myron was Jewish, minus the religious portion, and the nose. He liked to save money. He cut coupons for pieces of gum.

Myron grinned. "C'mon. You didn't dress up like that, because it's not going to cost me."


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Old 02-10-2011 at 09:42 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Bribe Attempt Number One. They said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Madeleine was French; that was an incontrovertible truth. There were, like, five billion restaurants in Paris. Myron could get a free meal at any one of them if he said yes blindly right now. That had to be tempting. He resituated himself and leaned over the desk. A smirk played on Myron’s lips and Madeleine wondered—if she kissed hard and long enough—she could wipe it away and get him to agree blindly. Bribe Attempt Number Two had a lot to do with kissing, actually. Madeleine wasn’t too proud to get on her knees and beg.

"How about," He purred, glinting into her eyes. "I treat if I say yes, and if I say no, and-" Folding her arms, he began rocking back and forth in his chair. "You tell me what this routine is going to cost me."

See. This was why Madeleine sometimes kinda sorta hated Myron. Not hated in the sense of “Oh my God, you b*stard! I want you dead!” but in the exasperated, long-suffering wife kinda way. Money was a thing. A material thing. And though Madeleine was easily the most materialistic person in the history of ever, money was made to be spent. Myron seemed to have missed that little memo and it was all Madeleine could do to refrain from rolling her eyes and patting his hand while saying, ‘You silly man, you can’t put a price on art.’

"C'mon,” Myron insisted with a grin. “You didn't dress up like that, because it's not going to cost me."

“Well,” she said. “If all goes according to plan, you’ll be making money; not losing it.”

She waited for Myron’s eyes to turn into cartoon dollar signs.

“Imagine; we could give Paris the show of the century. Something more ground-shaking than when the first Rouge Girl came up with the can-can. Something more impressive than Vegas. Something truly unique. Patrons will flock here and you’ll easily double—triple!—your annual revenue. Think about that above all.”
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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 02-12-2011 at 08:18 AM
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Myron Bolitar

Dear Business Women of the World,
There is a place in hell awaiting for you all.
Love,
Myron Bolitar


Yes, he knew, he had such a way with words. The waying words, being completely true. Because all business women, were demonic mutant demon (could he use an adjective more than once?) spawns that were sent on this earth to destory, manipulate, seduce, and all around do away with all business men in the world. Well, okay, lets get this straight before proceeding forth- Babe-o-rama business women. That was very important. But okay, business women had one up. Myron could give a rats ass but about the discrimination in the women back in the day when it came to business. Thinking about it, more power to men for making it that way. They were smart. Know why? Boobies. Oh, excuse him, breasts. No wait. This was Myron's internal dialogue. Boobies. Do something about it. Boobies in button up business attire. See, it was that business thing. The thing where the woman couldn't reveal too much, but just that little splice in the middle peek-a-boo'ed at ya. Another reason: Thighs. They were hidden in that business skirt that was saying, "Hello. I'm a business skirt. I'm going to stuff the thights, curve them in a perfect outline, and just reveal them to you slightly in a middlie-lined slit." See, it was that business woman thing. Men didn't have that. Business men had Rolex watches. Now, a vagina didn't go aching for a Rolex watch. Well, okay, so men did look good in suits, him being prime example. But women, in the world of business, was unfair. Especially, when they wanted something. Especially, when they were in that business attire. Especially when that woman, was Madeleine.

Myron did his best to keep his eyes on her eyes. Because, sure, he had seen her body in all different types of things, in all sorts of positions. And, he knew very well that she was his. The same went for her too. But, Madeleine didn't have that downward spiral where Myron Bolitar was adjusted to every bit of her. Because, she never ceased to turn him on. If Madeline couldn't turn a man on, then that many just didn't have switches.

So, lets re-write:

Dear Bussiness Side of Madeleine,
There is a place in hell waiting for you.
Love,
Myron
P.S. - We should so totally do it in hell. How hot. Literally.


"Well, if all goes according to plan, you'll be making money; not losing it."

What plan? Oh, right. She hadn't said that yet. Myron Bolitar nodded mindlessly, rolling his tongue over his teeth, and squinting into her eyes. Squinting always helped concentration. No, but this was business, and Myron could turn off the turning on. Which, was what made him one of the most successful businesss men. Business women didn't get to him. Although, Madeleine was that exception, there was nothing that was going to distract him as far as his own company was involved. 'If all goes according to plan' didn't sound to promising to him, but Myron was not completely shutdown. He always hated that. When people shutdown and don't listen to people. Spanish people do that a lot ... Hay-O!

"Imagine; we could give Paris the show of the century. Something more ground-shaking than when the first Rouge Girl came up with the can-can. Something more impressive than Vegas. Something truly unique. Patrons will flock here and you'll easily double-triple!-your annual revenue. Think about that above all."

Myron Bolitar's eyebrows were hitting the ceiling, and not in a good during sex eyebrow raise. Oh, wow. He didn't know that she was, you know, selling a car with fake teeth in her mouth. His hands were wide fingered on the desk, holding on for the trip he had just taken. Did she like, even breathe during that? A feeling that he needed to check to see if Godzilla was attacking the cirty of Paris swelled in his brain, because Madeleine was acting like one of those frantic Chinese people, that needed subtitles to interpret their frantic babblings. He felt like he had just had a seizure. Myron Bolitar blinked. Stared at her. Opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Huh...

Looking over his shoulder, a look at Madeleine, a look of his other shoulder, and a settled glare at her, Myron's head swiveled, blinking. "I was just, you know, making sure that cameras weren't anywhere. Because for a moment I felt like I was on Jeopardy, or I had to open door number one." Clearing his throat, Myron Bolitar got serious- well, as serious as he could get, and clasped his hands in front of him, leaning into the desk.

"Okay, Alex Trebek , take a breath and talk to me about this 'ground shaking' show."


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Old 02-12-2011 at 08:58 AM
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Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine smiled expectantly. Her crocodile grin stretched too far, but she hoped Myron would find it endearing—not rabid. He probably expected her to foam at the mouth and convulse on the floor sometime soon.

Come on… she thought. Just love the idea and let me have my fireworks…

Myron looked over his shoulder. Then at Madeleine. Then over his shoulder again. Madeleine lifted an eyebrow. Her smile faltered. What the hell? Why wasn’t he smooching her from across the desk and praising her saleswoman skills to the high heavens?

"I was just, you know, making sure that cameras weren't anywhere,” Myron said in his semi-sarcastic way. “Because for a moment I felt like I was on Jeopardy, or I had to open door number one."

Madeleine laughed a little, but secretly wondered what it would take to make Myron take any of her business proposals seriously. It was a good idea. She was just trying a little too hard because every time she put an idea to him her professional and personal lives were both on the line. She had to impress Myron. Otherwise, her life would just be rough.

"Okay, Alex Trebek , take a breath and talk to me about this 'ground shaking' show."

He was leaning forward. The rulebook of body language said that was a good sign. Madeleine felt a little bit more confident now. She smiled again, less toothily.

“I want to add pyrotechnics to our routines,” she said, point-blank. “No other place in Paris is doing it yet. And I checked all the fire-codes—we’re golden. I’ve got three routines planned in here—“ she indicated her folder. “—And at least six more in mind if they’re a success.”
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Name: Natalia | Gender: Female | Posts: 2,742 | Roses: 50
Old 05-02-2011 at 05:40 AM
witch
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OCC: For Evea and Myron
Evea Perry


It had been about a month since Evea had first started working for Mr Myron Bolitar at the Rouge, a change if ever she had found one.

When she had first walked onto the stage and first sang for the man that was now her boss she couldn't help but think he'd turn her down. Though she had trained her voice along side of the Opera singers in the world since living in Paris she was still untrained in the ways of the stage and performing which had been why Mr Bolitar had started her off as a chores girl.

It was partly why Evea was here, now sitting in his office in one of the tall chairs and he finished up something or other while she waited. While working at the Rouge Evea had left like she was leaving her old life behind and finally coming to grips with her new one. The life that now let her stand in the spot light and for fill dreams that had long been side lined.

She had come in to check on how her boss thought she was going, something that both of them had seemed keen to discuss. Though there was something else that Evea wanted to talk to him about and that was something she thought would help him draw more people into the Rouge.

As a reporter one would think she'd be ready to face this thing head on, ask the hard questions and drive until she got what she wanted but as she sat there she couldn't help but feel the butterflies return as they had on that first day.


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