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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 10 2010, 03:03 AM (117 Views) | |
| Chthonic | Jun 10 2010, 03:03 AM Post #1 |
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{{ Name: Draven Age: 20 Species: Part Wolf (has tail and ears) Bio: Draven is rather directionless in life. Ater dropping out of highschool, the young man bounced around from one dead end job to the other until that fateful day he applied as a bartender in the local strip club. Well, he'd been hired, but not exactly to serve drinks. Mr. Takana, the owner of Wild Nights, seemed to feel that Draven was to pretty to stand behind the bar all night and so had insisted that he dance instead. As it turned out, Draven seemed to take to the stage as a naturally as a fish to water, and now is a main attraction at the club. Personality: Draven is cocky and stubborn with a little more than his fair share of pride. He's good looking, and he knows it, but maybe all that outward egotism really just covers the fact that he truly believes that to be his only asset. He's often in trouble with the authorities and his boss, as he has a rather short fuse, but he always seems able to smooth things over with talk and a well placed, suggestive smile. He's also a shameless flirt. Look: Just like the pic, save for dress. (This is from a geisha RP) Draven likes black and fishnet and it's pretty much the only things his wardrobe consists of. He has a fondness for collars and spikes as well, feeling it accentuates his wolf features. Being a shameless flirt, Draven often wears his clothes tight and his shirts cropped to expose his toned stomach.}} "Damn..." Draven cursed, staring down at his cell's display as it cast blue-ish light into the darkness of the street around him. He flipped it closed with a scowl, shoving the device back into the back pocket of his tight, cut up blue jeans. "Boss is gonna bitch me out again." he mumbled under his breath to the empty space around him as he hurried down the side alley that concealed the club. The pink neon sign glowed brightly in the dim of the night, proudly proclaiming the club's name: Wild Nights. It was some what of a fetish club, hence it's more hidden location. The only people who really came where those who already knew where it was and who wanted a taste of that special something the club had to offer. Draven rounded the corner of the alley and came to the back door, only to see the bouncer already standing there scowling back at him. He offered a small shrug, as if he didn't know why the other man would give him such a look, but the bouncer just wasn't buying it. Really, he had no sense of humor. "You're late again, kid." "Well, it's a good thing the crowds love me so much then, ain't it?" A smirk and Draven flashed his slightly pointed canines, sauntering into the back of the club. "Whatever, just get your ass ready before the boss tears you a new one." Draven didn't respond to the man's further comments, slipping into his dressing room with a roll of his golden eyes. "Tch, whatever. Bossman talks big, but he knows ho butters his bread." Annoyed, he threw off his skin tight wife-beater,exposing smooth, tanned stomach and abs to the almost oppressively stuffy air of the club. He tossed it into some random corner of the room, surely to be forgotten later and started digging though his dresser of costumes. Tattered jeans followed as he heard heavy footsteps from outside his door. "Draven! You're late again. So help me, if your mangy ass isn't on that stage in the next five seconds.." "Yeah, yeah, Bossman! I'm going!" He yelled back, hurriedly pulling on the last bit of his outfit before running out to the side stage, the music already pumping louder, signaling his intro. The bass thrummed out, the vibrations pulsing through the room, the din of the crowd rising in anticipation. They knew what was to come. Draven licked his lips. They wanted him. The drums rose next. It was almost time, almost time to feed those desperate masses thronging in front of the stage..no his stage. All to soon and yet never soon enough, the music wailed and Draven stepped forth, thigh-high boots clicking on the stage, stalking over to center stage. It was his domain, and he owned it. Everyone watching knew it, too. The stage was his, the audience as his, and he held them rapt, the knowledge that they were all watching him like a drug to his senses. He could get high on this. Flared hips clad in a low slung black thong swayed erotically, sinfully to the beat, mesmerizing in their motion. Raven hair tossed wildly about as he moved, hands caressing down his taught stomach and up around his collared throat. And there upon his head sat the reason for the club's name sake, and his own. Perfect, fuzzy triangles peeked out from a mass of long, black hair, and as golden eyes flashed, one could come to understand why Draven was The Wolf, and why this was his den. |
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She was a good girl and it felt good to be a liar... | |
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