femmefatalist | (no subject)

[It's pure chance that brought Fujiko Mine here. She'd stumbled across the website purely by coincidence, and had browsed it, faintly amused. Was this how girls these days were finding their sugar daddies? It makes her feel old. When she'd been their age, she'd had to find perverted older men and women the old-fashioned way, in person.

She'd never gotten the luxury of saying "no touching," either.

She'd responded to one on a lark, curious where it would lead to, and it's led her to this small bar with a girl ten years her junior, chatting idly over food and drink. The girl seems pleasant enough. She's a flirt, which Fujiko respects in her own way, particularly since she's made it clear that she's not really into women. It's a simple job, to her.

Jobs are never simple when Fujiko Mine is concerned. Thus far, she has been a perfect customer, abiding by the rules, but she's always planned a change of pace from the beginning. This was how she'd gotten her start, after all. Perhaps the girl will learn her lesson and change her ways.

If not, Fujiko will have enjoyed herself nonetheless.] I have to say, Iroha-chan, you're a much better conversationalist than most girls your age. I've really enjoyed this.

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[Iroha's mind is racing, even though her body's so sluggish. Fujiko's been good to her. But this is weird. She feels so uncoordinated that it's scary - this isn't what getting sick feels like. Her face is burning up. She doesn't want to go wherever Fujiko's taking her, she wants to be back home, in bed.]

I should call... [Who? Her parents? Of course not. She doesn't have any real friends, and the only guy she'd trust with this is also the last one she'd want to know about this. It'd confirm every bad thing he's ever thought about her.

She stumbles, again, is forced to lean against Fujiko.]

I don' wanna... you should take me home, Mine-san...

[Somewhere, deep inside her heart, Fujiko feels a little sympathy for the poor girl. It's easy for her to remember being in this exact position, after all, once upon a time. Ah well, all the more reason to help her harden her heart.] Shh, shh... I don't have a car, and I can't well put you in a taxi at this rate, can I? That'd be so irresponsible of me.

[She guides her down the block to the lobby of her hotel, making a little tipsy-tipsy sign at the front desk and sighing. They look at her with sympathy. Nobody suspects something. Nobody ever suspects a woman who looks like she does.

Before Iroha knows it, they're in the elevator.] Come on, Iroha-chan. You can sit down and I'll get you some water. You look like you're feeling terrible.

[Iroha doesn't want their sympathy. She wants their help. She thinks about telling the front desk that she doesn't know this woman, that she's underage.

But she's scared. Iroha's felt a lot of things in her life - frustration, self-pity, depression - but never this sort of primal fear. Fujiko's scaring her. The fact that she can't control herself is scaring her. She mumbles and slurs and grips tighter onto Fujiko's arm, halfway to crying.

They're in the elevator, and just the motion of it going up makes Iroha feel like she's about to throw up.]

Mine-san, I feel all hot... n' stuff... [She couldn't describe where she feels hot. It's not her forehead, like when she's sick. It's not her hands or cheeks either, like when she's nervous or embarrassed. It's in the pit of her stomach. Like when she touches herself.

But that shouldn't be the case. At all. What could be turning her on right now?

She stumbles out of the elevator when it opens. lurching against the door to Fujiko's room. When Fujiko opens it, she just falls onto the floor. Her legs don't even feel like they're working.

She drags herself away from the door with her palms as realization dawns on her.]

Mine-san, did you... [She must have put something in her drink. Iroha's never done drugs, but she's had friends who have. This - sort of - matches their descriptions.]

I know you do, sweetie. It's all right. You're just coming down with something. [Yeah, with a case of designer narcotics she picked up on the black market in Macau. Fujiko normally uses these to seduce marks. Here, she's just having a good time.

She lets go of Iroha's elbow when they're in the room, moving to close -- and lock -- the door behind her. She turns back to Iroha, and her expression has shifted. Her eyes are more narrow, and the concern on her face seems more fake, now.] Did I do what? [She's not expecting an answer as she closes in on Iroha, reaching up to gently cup the side of her face.]

Here's what I didn't tell you, Iroha-chan. I got my start doing this same thing. I thought it was all fun. It led me down a very different path than I thought it was going to. It's best if you learn to quit before it reaches that part.

Really, I'm doing you a favor when you think about it.

[Then she kisses her.]