Elvira Velour
Starlight Lounge
At first, it was the means of her survival and her rising to the adult role her mother had run off to escape. Her father -- God rest his soul -- had fallen ill, and his condition would only become more grave. His medication and treatments weren't going to pay for themselves, to say nothing of the lights, the food that was to be put on the table, and the table itself.
Back when she was a Pascha girl, it was all work, despite her love for sex. She'd still call it that after getting to Vegas and kicking her first husband -- the bastard who'd seduced her mother away from her family in the first place -- to the curb. Some scathing words from a client's wife who'd caught them in the act -- the first of what would be many -- had cut deep and left her with the need to justify her lifestyle to herself. She'd had her taste of the glitz and glamour that the fast money could afford her, and she wasn't about to give it up to start working a nine-to-five.
Elvira would find her justifications. And in time, she would even make peace with her inadvertent following in her mother's footsteps, attaching herself to the wealthy when there was no longer a need for it. It was a privileged life that wasn't entirely unearned, nor did it come without its own challenges.
In her younger days, after she'd found that peace, she believed that she would do this forever. There were even times where she missed the life during her last marriage. She knows now that that was just the boredom talking.
It hadn't taken long after its dissolution for word to spread about her being back on the market. Many of her old clients had gotten in touch, looking to set up dates. And she'd agreed to meet up with some of them. A select few that she was fondest of, like Laura Ptaszyński. Back when they first met, Elvira saw a woman who needed to learn to let her hair down. She wanted to get wild, and when she had someone to pull her away from her work, she could get down with the best of them.
It was how Laura met her wife: Constance Marano. The three of them were at a rave. At fifty years old now, it remains one of the best parties she'd ever been to. The music was bumping all the way through, the flow of drinks and drugs maintained a consistent flow, and there was plenty of pretty fish to pick out of the sea of dancing bodies. Elvira and Laura's drug of choice that day was Ecstasy, and that just so happened to be the same for Constance.
The Latina made quite the impression. So swimmingly did they get along that it led them to an hour in a tent that brought a different form of the substance running through their veins. She would be more consistently able to ensure that this Jill would not become a dull girl, giving Laura more of the spice she was looking for out of life. And in time, the blonde would become another of many clients who would say their goodbyes. The relationship between the two had turned into something serious. And later, they would even tie the knot.
The German native's thoughts would return to the two of them every now and again over the next twenty-five years. She'd even do a little social media stalking, looking in periodically to see how they grew together. It was a domestic fantasy: White picket fence, nice house, pleasant neighbors, a cute, intelligent kid who's off in college now, learning how to cure cancer, possibly.
Yet, when she heard Laura's voice on the other end of a phone call a couple weeks ago, her heart sank into her stomach. Former clients never called just to say hello. This meant that the two of them didn't have their happily ever after, after all.
Elvira had long ago come to the conclusion that monogamy in and of itself, to say nothing of marriage, was simply not for her. Not that she had anything against those concepts. Not truly, despite the occasional grumbling. She won't knock it when it works for other people, but for her, it's been where fun goes to die.
And sadly, that happened to be the case in the Ptaszyńskis' marriage as well. Laura had laid out the problems between her and Constance as beginning after she finally got that big promotion she was aiming for, telling the story in a way that had placed herself underneath the brightest light she could find. But Elvira had heard this age-old tale more times than she could count, and it made her eyes keen, all too aware of those spaces between the lines.
The hours got longer, and the responsibilities more numerous. It was manageable in the beginning, but workahol is a bitch. A demanding mistress: It wasn't enough to have her partners during the day. She needs to be on the fore of their minds when they're away too. A big project here, a meeting with directors there. Laura would meet more and more of those demands until she found herself bringing the work home with her, even going so far as to give it the space in bed that used to be preserved for Constance.
She'd become exactly the sort of spouse that drives so many married clients to seek the redhead out. And an example of a sad lesbian stereotype that she bashed while complaining about her tomboyish, "male-brained" ex, who she mentioned as having brought it up in an argument, completely in denial of the fact that she was indeed living up to it and forcing her wife to follow suit: The bed had died a long, drawn out death, and not only was Laura not sad about its passing, she wasn't even aware of it until it had been pointed out to her.
Poor Constance would receive crumbs every so often. Tiny remnants of the passion that once existed between them. But more often than not, Laura would offer accusations of "Is that all you think about?" and the threat of divorce when asked about opening the door for others to fulfill her needs. Elvira would give her half-hearted...No, more like quarter-hearted nods to attach to the hook she slung her way with her variants of "Am I right?"
But honestly? When she mentioned an argument that had sparked into being through her tending to her work while they were away on a vacation -- on time that had been put aside to reignite their initial spark and for her to connect more with their son -- she'd lost all sympathy for the woman.
No, this robot beside her, sloppily drunk within an hour of their arrival to the Starlight Lounge. Groaning and moaning and bitching about Constance, in a seeming challenge to herself to find as many ways to describe her as an ingrate and a whore as she could, going on and on about how hard she worked and how much she'd sacrificed -- oh, woe is me! But she had only herself to blame for Constance sneaking people in through the window. Not even their son was very fond of her. And how could he be? Workahol had won out over being present for him too.
The former escort was taking swallow after swallow of her three thousand dollar Sapphire Martini, hoping to drown a growing headache. Laura would move on to complaining about the divorce settlement that had fallen in her now ex-wife's favor.
Good for you, Constance. Go get your bag.
To sum it all up, this so-called "date" has been a disaster. A vindication of her decisions to never marry again, and for the love of God, to never step out with anyone over thirty again. And as for a potentially continued future as an escort? The life has been a lot of fun for her, and brought so much prosperity. And while she considers herself to be in her physical prime now, she still has that feeling running deep into her bones: She is too old for this shit right here.
The rest of her glass went down the hatch. Jesus Christ. If she wanted a hot mess, she'd make one in the ring.
"Ey!" Elvira just didn't have the mental energy to keep up with the appearance of being invested in this solipsistic pity party, and Laura was losing her patience. "I'm pouring my heart out over here! Along with the money to pay your drinks, so the least you can do is listen to me!"
And the least you can do is not spend, what is it now, thirty minutes bitching about your ex? This is supposed to be a date, after all. Or do you not know what those are anymore? And if you're going to drink yourself stupid, another minimal effort you can make is dancing with me. Or getting up on that stage to sing with me. Something!
Elvira had to put her tongue to her teeth to hold it. What made this worse is that Laura was paying for the girlfriend treatment. The social and emotional aspects, to be specific. She just wanted some company. Somebody to talk to. It was understood that her wounds were fresh. She'd pretty much just stepped out of court. But some things are common sense.
The Starlight Lounge is a fine establishment. A great relaxing atmosphere. Excellent service. Good food and drink. And as that imagined rebuttal mentioned, a dance floor and karaoke stage. It's one of her favorite spots in New York, and yet she found herself wanting to be anywhere else.
"Ey! I didn't bring you out here just for you to ignore me!"
You've ignored your family for years. You can put up with it for a night.
"I heard every word you said, Laura." Elvira finally gave her a pointed gaze. A weary smile. "This is supposed to be a date. Don't you wanna do something to take your mind off of Constance and Eli, if only for the night?" She didn't know why she was still trying. Perhaps the professionalism had just been that ingrained into her over the years. Grinning through things that you care nothing about is a part of the business. But she was checked out and ready to call it here. This part of the game? To quote , she'd leave it to the other girls to play.
No one she knew, that is; she had contacts who were in this line of work, but she wouldn't subject them to this.
"I know. I know that. But it's like you don't even care."
"It's a difficult place you're in." Reach out and touch her. A hand on the shoulder to say, "I'm here for you." Elvira didn't give her that. It was a conscious effort to ignore her instinct. "All I can do is listen and imagine. Neither of my marriages have lasted long, and I never started a family."
"Good. Don't fuckin' bother." From between Laura's lips came a bitter laugh that had no right coming out of her. A refill of whiskey arrived, and half of it had gone down the hatch in seconds. The man tending to them shot Elvira a sympathetic glance as he turned to assist someone else. Unfortunately, he wasn't subtle enough to escape the notice of her charge.
"Problem?"
Elvira reached for Laura's shoulders, stopping an unsteady rise and what would have likely been the start of an embarrassing scene for the both of them. Luckily, with him already on the way to another patron, he didn't catch her little outburst.
This was beginning to transition from being the worst date she's had in years to babysitting. Wonderful.
"Laura. Dear. Want a word of advice?"
"Wha' issit?"
"You should give the whiskey a rest."
Laura laughed at the idea. "Oh-ho-ho-ho! Thass where you're wrong! I have a nah...'Aten ahh...Aten...I haven't had a break in twenny goddamn years. I've earned the right to get a lil loaded."
Elvira was groaning on the inside now.
Laura took a good, long look at her. The smile crossed her lips and lit up her eyes opened a window back to the early 2000's. Whenever she had that smile on her face, good things happened.
Not tonight.
"Ey..." Her fingers poked through Elvira's fiery red locks, idly playing about with them. She hadn't a clue -- what happened to her, Elvira wondered. How did she change that much, for so much worse? "Why don't you go up there and sing something for me? You still sing, right?"
Fuck it. She smiled and played along.
"I've only gotten better. That's a fine idea; you sit tight, and I'll put on a special performance for you." And with that, she got on her feet and sought out the man who was in charge of the setup. Moments later, she was walking towards the stage, effortlessly drawing eyes all around her. Eliciting wolf whistles and little catcalls from a few of the rowdier folk. What can she say? She always dresses to impress.
The band that was waiting for her was well-equipped to play some smooth jazz, so she decided that she'd play on a comparison to a certain cartoon bombshell with . didn't match, but it would be no less stellar in her delivery. She had complete confidence in that.
The beginning was shifted, with the instrumentals playing before she brought her vocals in. It was better this way: Let the music settle in her the audience's minds. Draw all eyes to her with her hips moving a swivel, acclimating to rhythm. Build that quiet anticipation, get them snapping their fingers or clapping in tune. It was while she was looking them all over when Elvira saw her, sitting alone.
Marina Delmare was pretty hard to miss. After all, she was the only person in the building who possessed a combination of blue eyes and white hair with streaks of more blue. Elvira knew of, but wasn't very familiar with the Spanish-French model, but was there for the promotional photoshoot for the Castejon Fitness Center. Elvira had done her modelling the day before Marina's run-in with that group of mean girls. It was sad, what happened to her; she gets attacked -- ganged up on -- and she is the one who Uno Spain drops.
That said everything she needed to know about that agency. She cut ties with them immediately afterwards. Not much had been heard about Marina since. Elvira figured that she'd given it up and tried a fresh start as a nine-to-fiver. It wouldn't have been the first time she's heard about something like that happening.
But surprise, surprise: Guess who shows up in an LAW ring? Marina hadn't done much better against Amon, and what she saw had her feeling rather certain that the Spaniard had been hired specifically to be tossed to the promotion's several ryona machines. Poor girl.
Well. Maybe this night wasn't a total bust after all.
"♩You had plenty money, nineteen...twenty-two.
You let other girls make a...fool of you.
Why don't you do riiiight? Like some other womeeeenn doooo?♩"
Elvira started towards the stairs leading her back off the stage, looking to take full advantage of the handheld microphone that Starlight offered its performers. Marina was sitting in the back, so for now, she was looking for others to bring into her performance.
The pianist. She'd been eyeballing her the hardest since she saw her coming. A perfect choice with the Sapphic change she'd instituted into the lyrics. Elvira leaned over the keyboard and place a pointer finger underneath the woman's chin and slowly withdrew her hand, as if guiding her forward. The brunette's eyes went wide with surprise, and her face reddened the closer it came to hers. And suddenly, she forgot how to play, becoming unable to hit a proper note to save her life. There was some whooping and hollering from the crowd, along with some laughter at the blunder. HLA never fails.
"♩Get out of heeeere.♩" Elvira would wait until their noses were about to touch to move her hand to the woman's chest, above her buxom, and give her a playful push back. "♩Get me some money toooo.♩" Then she'd turn away, and proceed down the steps. She could feel the other woman's eyes on her hips as she walked away, towards the next lucky person. Whoever they are. The continued off-key performance would give her away, outright.
The Songbird's green eyes quickly found Laura, maintaining a pointed stare at the blonde, who wasn't happy with the display. Frankly, she didn't give a damn. "♩You're sittin' down and wonderin' what it's...all abooouut.
If ya ain't got no money, they will...put you out.
Why don't you do riiiight? Like some other womeeennn dooooo?♩"
Ah, she had her next participants. A man and a woman who were seated together at a table. Another date that didn't appear to be going well. Not for the guy, at least. He was a bespectacled, dorky looking fellow. An almost stereotypical scrawny nerd. But he knew how to dress. He was there with an absolute knockout; a woman who was way out of his league. Elvira was able to put their situation together on the way to the stage, and when she saw them again before she starting singing: A beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle of the table, an expensive looking dish and a glass of Sapphire in front of her, with something more affordable for him, and he was doing most of the talking, with her being on the reticent side. She's been there.
She was in it for a free meal and a night out at some place fancy, and he was trying for something that just wasn't going to happen. The downcast expression Elvira saw when she approached said he'd caught on.
She took the lack of chemistry as a green light to lift a long, thick leg, and set her heel down on his lap. Looking at nothing but his reaction, you'd swear she just took her dress off. "♩Get out of heeeere.♩" And looking at that of his date, you'd think she'd just scooped up her drink, pissed in it, sat it back down in front of her, and told her it was a glass of lemonade.
Credit to McLovin here: He saw an opportunity and he seized it. His hands began to roam the pantyhose, getting familiarized with the toned curvature underneath. It wasn't bad either. "♩Get me some money tooooo.♩" She'd originally planned to give him a little push back, as she'd done with the pianist (who was regaining her rhythm now) but ended up indulging him just a teensy bit more, simply moving her leg out of reach instead. It was better this way.
Her eyes returned to Laura. She had a special verse ready for her now.
"♩If you had been there for your...family...
You wouldn't be sittin' there whining, "oh, woe is me!
Why don't you do riiiiight? Like some other womeennn dooooo?♩"
"You fucking bitch!"
Several eyes turned to where she sat at the bar. That was when the blonde realized her folly: By yelling out like that, they all knew that those improvised lyrics were talking about her. Red-faced with embarrassment, she stormed out. And Elvira continued on, without missing a beat.
"♩Get out of heeeere.♩" This one would be punctuated with a dismissive wave of her free hand, like a noble dismissing a peasant. "♩Get me some money tooooo.♩"
And now onto the main course. Rather literally: She took a seat across her fellow Siren's lap upon reaching her. "♩Get out of heeeere.♩" Gently swept those snowy bangs away from her eyes so she could get a better look into them. "♩Get me some money tooooo.♩" The touch of the redheaded Songstress would linger, with a hand first setting down on Marina's shoulder as she rose, then gently brushing along her back as she circled her chair, and back over to the table in front of her, smoothly taking a seat atop of it with a scoot to bring her to the middle. With her free hand propping her up as she leaned back, she lifted the leg that the slit in her dress showed off in all its glory, extending it to its full length for just one titillating second before crossing it over the other.
"♩Why don't you do riiiiiiight?♩" And then rolled into that , only with Marina's table filling in for a piano. And she would crawl to its edge. "♩Like some other womeeeennn...!♩" As close as its limits would bring her to the mostly white-haired woman. A sultry flame burned on the inside of her eyes, and her lips puckered as she delivered that one, final, "♩Dooooooooo...♩"
Elvira would slowly back away, taking just a few more seconds more with Marina before she had to walk away, her trained, powerful lungs carrying that note all the way back to the stage. Thom Yorke, eat your heart out.
She took a bow at the song's closing, receiving a flood of applause from the crowd. There were a few calls for an encore, but she was done for tonight. It was back to the bar for her, to wet her whistle. With a glass of wine, now that her job was done. For good; let that performance be her retirement show.
"Chateau Margaux, please." When it comes to her wine, Elvira always goes French. French and..."Red."
Why didn't she go back to Marina's table and introduce herself? Invite her back to the bar, and have an extra drink order added? It was simple: Ego. Elvira had put on a lot of muscle in preparation for stepping back into the ring, but she was still very much a femme. She made no big deal of it, but she still liked to have her prospects come to her.
