The Thirst Trap: Olivia Sharpe Enters

She's tall; no reason to put a number to it, because her severe shoes thrust her out of that neat little box. And neat is her number; champagne satin blous and a darker, matching pencil skirt, well above the knee , but not nearly as scandalous as the opening if her décolletage. The "I'm not interested in playing games" battle cry she gave before each acquisition was no lie, the tease in her wry smile and powerful stride were calculated tactics.

She sat, just then, at the bar (the only patron within, at the moment), twisting her legs, one other the other, like mounting a stallion; the seams on her stockings flashing an distinct "X" at anyone who would brave approaching.

But there were no other patrons, no workers readying for the night to come. None but an equally tall and statuesque beauty at the other end of the bar. She also strode with power, but it was one not honed in a boardroom or negotiating table — it came to her preternaturally. Waves of satin ebony kissed her high cheekbones, framed by two stark amethyst locks that trickled over her shoulders. She was pale, but her makeup was dark, like her eyes. Eyeing the expensive clutch the patron placed on the bar, the dark beauty continued polishing the glass.

"I'm not open." Her voice was a hidden lake in a deep cavern, dark and deep, but mysteriously warm. Far to dangerous to be inviting.

"Olivia Sharpe," the businesswoman half choked out. Jesus, did she just stumble over her own name? "You must be Siladitya Wendt?" She had practiced her name over and over again, and had spoken to several linguists on its origin. Leave them impressed from the jump.

If the bartender -was- impressed, only a slightly raised eyebrow would show it. She didn't ask for Olivia's order, she simply reached for a glass as she spoke, "Ah, you are here for business, then. Good. We will open talks with a token of tryst."

No... she said trust. Right? A flush came to Olivia's cheeks as a glass was set in front of her. Two. Sil (as she would later insist she be called... at least at first) poured first in her glass, and then Liv's.

***

But what did she pour?

Dreamers and Morpheans, please see the follow-up post, and choose who is investigating the mystery that is “The Thirst Trap”.