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ShilohPR
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
i hate chickflicks as well, which is why I always try my hardest NOT to let my stories go all chicky on me, haha. If I start to stray, call me on it!
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18/Jan/2007, 22:40
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runawayangel04
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
Some chick flicks are great, but those are the ones that have amazing story lines. They're usually the amazing romantic stories that drop your jaw and teach a good lesson, too. If it doesn't have a point other than some girl trying to be "hot", and get some beefcake guy, then forget it. I hate when the plot gets predictable too. I think it's cool to be able to read symbolism and figure things out, but it;s not cool to be able to understand the whole plot of the movie in 5 minutes.
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19/Jan/2007, 7:54
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ShilohPR
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
Agree entirely! I just can't make myself sit through them. I'm all for romance and the occasional sweet or romantic surprise, but when you're just playing cliche after cliche, it gets old REAL fast.
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19/Jan/2007, 14:41
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runawayangel04
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
quote: ShilohPR wrote:
Agree entirely! I just can't make myself sit through them. I'm all for romance and the occasional sweet or romantic surprise, but when you're just playing cliche after cliche, it gets old REAL fast.
Those are def. the annoying ones! I agree there.
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19/Jan/2007, 22:57
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ShilohPR
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
Chapter Four
“How much further?” Joslyn asked as calmly as she could manage under the circumstances. Perched on Giordi’s lap despite his suggestive comments, each time the cab took a turn even the tiniest bit too sharply, she threatened to spill onto Orlando. Feeling eyes on her legs, though whose eyes was unclear, she tugged at her skirt and shifted in Giordi’s lap to keep it from rising up.
Sitting much more gracefully in Grant’s lap, Dora snorted, “I’m glad I told you to wear the boots, Joz, or that skirt would be indecent.”
“What?” Joslyn demanded, spinning to look at her. Giordi grunted and mumbled something about her bony ass. “You’re the one that told me to wear the skirt and I’m the one that chose the boots.”
Just as Grant opened his mouth to make some snide remark about the shortness of the skirt complimenting the height of the hooker boots, Orlando called out, “Here!” Not a moment too soon. He shoved open the cab door and stepped out into the pleasant night, a welcome relief after the stuffiness of the cab.
One of Joslyn’s booted feet stuck out of the cab but came nowhere near the ground, and there was really no way to gracefully exit. How was it that other girls managed this? She badly needed more practice in the clubbing scene.
Orlando saw her struggling and, with a loud laugh, bent down and took her hands to help oust her from Giordi’s lap. He and Grant both hooted and applauded but, at her sharp eyes and red cheeks, assured her they hadn’t actually seen anything. Underwear got in the way, right?
With an impish smirk, Joslyn quirked an eyebrow and strode around Orlando to end of the line. All three male jaws dropped, followed by another roar of laughter. Whether she was being serious or not had yet to be validated.
“Oh, please,” Dora rolled her eyes. “Come on. How long before we get in, do you think?” They joined Joslyn at the end of the line and eyeballed the sheer number of people blocking the sidewalk with frustration. Music occasionally spilled out into the night as the front doors were pulled open, but at this rate it would be morning before they got to hear it up close.
Orlando, however, seemed immune to the impatience the others felt, instead craning his neck as though looking for someone further up in line. After a minute, he waved his hand, apparently having found said person.
“What?” Joslyn asked, balancing on her toes to see what he was waving at. Even on her toes, though, she was still half a head shorter than Orlando.
“Come on,” was his own answer, quickly grabbing her wrist and tugging her to the side of the line. Too confused to object, she grabbed Dora’s hand and continued to pull her friend quickly along even once Orlando had dropped her own arm.
The objections from others in line were not kept quiet, and by the time they reached the front, more than a few slurs and boisterous insults had been tossed their way by other clubbers every bit as impatient. Joslyn couldn’t help but feel that cutting in line did little good when faced with the large bouncer, every bit the iron bulwark his job title required. He stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the line of people.
When Orlando reached him, though, the bouncer’s face erupted in a grin and he shook hands and pounded the shoulder of thin little Orlando with all the familiarity of old chums.
“Orlando Bloom.”
“Stephen Billings,” Orlando returned with just as wide a grin. “All right, my man?”
“Yeah, yeah, s’all right. Here for a bit of– well hello, there, lovey,” Stephen interrupted himself, seeing Joslyn at Orlando’s side. “A foxer, eh, mate? Not your usual prey–“
He hadn’t thought Joslyn was listening to him, but she was, and quickly turned a glare to him, “Excuse me, but I am no one’s prey, particularly not this prick’s.”
Orlando laughed, “Yeah, this one’s not worth the hunt.”
“Hey!”
“What?”
Stephen chuckled, “My apologies, lady. So how many tonight, Orlando?”
“Five.”
From their new place at the very front of the line, it wasn’t long before they were allowed in. Once inside, the first question Dora had for Orlando was just how much clubbing he did in order to know the bouncers like that.
“A bloody lot of clubbing,” Orlando yelled to be heard over the music suddenly wrapping tightly around them. He added after a second, “But Stephen’s been in my class at Guildhall for two years now.”
“Well, ladies, how about we take a dive into that dance floor?” Giordi suggested. He couldn’t have cared less how Orlando knew the bouncer. He didn’t care if they were in the same drug cartel. They were in and now it was time for some hardcore clubbing.
Dora laughed at Joslyn’s wide eyes and excited grin. Though Joslyn had denied it, she couldn’t help but suspect this was her adventurous cousin’s first foray into the club world. She grabbed Joslyn’s hand, gave a tight squeeze, then pulled her along after the boys to squeeze their way into the middle of the dance floor.
Joslyn wasn’t quite sure how to club dance, but her inexperience didn’t seem to show too much as she twisted and writhed between Orlando and Grant. A lifetime of ballet, jazz, and hip hop all melted together and after only a minute she realized with a grin that she was good. Good enough that soon the tide had changed, bodies had drifted, and it was no longer Orlando and Grant she was dancing with. She was graceful and sexy and on fire.
Or so Orlando was thinking, craning his neck over the heads of whatever nameless pairs of legs he found blocking him in. As much as he loved clubs, he knew they could be sort of shady places, and the last thing he wanted was something happening to Dora or Joslyn. This was why he usually disliked clubbing with girls he actually had some sort of affection for. The carefree, rash, wild part of him had to spend the evening battling with the compassionate, responsible, possessive part. Damn it, where had Joslyn disappeared to?
Only a moment later, though, she was again within arms’ reach of their little group, her curls still bouncing beneath the blue and green and red lights. She saw Orlando watching her and flashed him an adrenaline-fueled grin before laughing as Giordi suddenly pulled her up against him, Dora on his other side.
After an inestimable number of unidentifiable songs had traded places over the loud speakers of the club, a break was absolutely needed. The heat from so many bodies compressed together, the pulsing in their heads from the throbbing base reverberating in their chests, and the sheer lack of any sort of personal space demanded a break and a breath of fresh air. Orlando could see it in Joslyn’s flushed cheeks and the slight glaze over her eyes from the dark mixed with stabs of bright light.
“Do you want a drink?” Orlando yelled, grabbing Joslyn’s arm to get her attention. She made a face to show she couldn’t hear him so he yelled it again, but she still wasn’t understanding. Motioning for her to follow, he led the way through the crowd. When she reached out to grab his arm to keep from getting lost in the crowd, he didn’t react, not finding it a bit odd. Was it possible to feel so at ease with a girl he had only known two days?
When they had reached the counter, Orlando repeated, “Do you want a drink?”
“Oh!” she laughed, nodding. “Yeah, sure. I feel like I’ve just sweated out about twenty pounds.” She asked for some soda and missed Orlando’s surprise. It hadn’t yet occurred to her that here alcohol was legal at sixteen, and so she stuck with her habit of not drinking in public for fear of getting caught, a common threat at home in the States.
While Orlando ordered the drinks from the sharply dressed bartender, Joslyn let her eyes wander over the organs of the club, her head still bobbing in time to the music that was now more decipherable once away from the hot breath of her fellow club-goers. At the far end of the room, a staircase led up to another level, and though she could see the balconies wrapping around the dance floor, she still pointed.
“Hey, what’s up there?” She had to learn into Orlando’s side to yell it in his ear.
His eyes followed her finger before he answered with a knowing smile, “VIP access only. Not for us bottom-feeders.”
Joslyn continued to stare at the balconies, at the scantily clad girls gyrating against the railings, outnumbering the men thrusting around betwixt them. Bottom-feeders? She refused to be a bottom-feeder. She saw it as nothing more than a challenge, but not one she felt like tackling tonight. Not until she had a bit more of a feel for the club world.
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20/Jan/2007, 23:24
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ShilohPR
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
chapter 4 continued...
“You doing okay?” Dora suddenly asking, springing from nowhere. Grant was right on her trail, though Giordi was nowhere to be found, still held captive somewhere within the writing tangle of bodies. Joslyn nodded and held her drink up, already feeling her throat growing sore from all the shouting. She leaned back against the bar as Dora and Grant ordered drinks for themselves . “Did you pay for that?”
Joslyn shook her head, then looked at Orlando, yelling something to a guy on his other side that he apparently knew. He felt her shift beside him and turned his eyes to her.
“I’m not your prey!” she hollered into his ear.
He laughed and shrugged, then pointed out, “Not if you’re going to drink that pansy-ass stuff, you aren’t!” She let her jaw drop as she followed his gaze to her diet coke. It then dawned on her that this wasn’t the United States anymore.
With a casual smirk, she pulled the small glass from his hand and took a slug. Unfortunately, this didn’t go nearly as smoothly as she had hoped. As soon as the bitter liquid hit her tongue she felt her throat tighten and her eyes squeeze shut.
“Ugh! What is that?” she demanded, thrusting the glass back at him amid the laughter of her dear friends.
“It’s called The Lost Tourist,” he laughed. “Vodka, rum, and schnapps. What’s wrong?”
“That was disgusting,” she argued, a chill running up her back. Her drink expertise didn’t stretch far beyond sangria and fruity ****tails and the occasional cheap beer, but the combination of vodka, rum, and schnapps tasted about as appealing as it sounded in her limited knowledge.
Orlando continued to laugh as he turned to the bartender and ordered something else. Joslyn watched as the bulky man poured various things into a metal shaker, though the only two she recognized were milk and vodka. As soon as the vodka went in, she began to shake her head, not much enamored after her previous introduction.
“Trust me,” Orlando insisted, sliding the glass toward her when the bartender handed it over. Joslyn made a doubtful face but took a drink anyway. She could still taste the vodka, and it was definitely still making a statement, but the milk and whatever else had been added were enough to take a bit of the edge off.
“What is this?”
“A snowflake for my snowflake,” he answered teasingly. She could tell the epithet wasn’t as innocent as he tried to pass it off as but decided to let it slide with no more than a suspicious glare.
Once drinks had disappeared, Giordi wandering over in search of them halfway through, it was back to the dance floor, and then back for more drinks, and then back to the dance floor until everyone’s heads were dizzy with the noise and heat and movement and alcohol. Joslyn, satisfied she had finally got the rhythm of the club down, thought about attempting an invasion of the VIP lounge, but seeing Orlando dancing with some other girl distracted her. If he was going to butt in on her dances, she would butt in on his, and back and forth until it was all too funny to be taken seriously in the least.
At last, no earlier than three in the morning, the five clubbers stumbled out of the club, blinking at the harsh outside lights of the night and inhaling sharply at the fresh air, their lungs now grown used to the humid, heavy air of the club. Their ears continued to pound and their legs felt as though they were still dancing to the music as Grant led the way to one of the cabs ready and waiting by the curb.
“How’s everyone feeling? Up for another club?” Orlando asked as soon as they were all settled in, Dora stretched out across both Grant and Giordi, leaving Joslyn shoved onto Orlando’s lap.
Dora groaned, “Noooooo, I need to crash in bed right now.”
“Soon, beloved, soon,” Grant teased, teasingly stroking her hair. She shoved his hand away and squinted as a traffic light shone through the window above her head.
Joslyn twisted to lean against the door and interrupted the laughter to ask, “So, Orlando, love. What exactly is your usual prey?”
“Well, first off, sweet girls.”
Joslyn wasn’t the only one laughing as Dora rolled her eyes, “Yeah, right. You and sweet girls.”
“Fine. Blondes,” he answered.
Giordi and Grant both nodded and hooted their agreement as Giordi added, “Mile-long legs.”
“And well-endowed in the chestal regions,” Grant finished, earning a shove in the ribs from Dora.
“Why, love?” Orlando asked, turning the question back again Joslyn. “What’s your usual prey?”
“Um . . . non-ass-hole-ish,” she declared with a decisive nod of her head.
“Damn, looks like all three of you are out of luck,” Dora snickered.
Orlando made a face at her, then pointed out to Joslyn, “I wasn’t aware non-ass-hole-ish was a word. Might you be a bit pissed?”
“Not yet, you haven’t done anything wrong tonight, I don’t think . . . ” Joslyn mused, looking down as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“Drunk!” Giordi snorted, falling across Dora’s legs to laugh. “He means are you drunk!”
Joslyn rolled her eyes, “Please. It’ll take a lot more than two snowballs to–“
”Snowflakes.”
“What?”
“Snowflakes. You had–“
”Yes, that’s what I said. Snowballs,” she nodded. After only a second of dead-panning, though, she erupted into a laughter that quickly caught the rest of the occupants of the backseat, no one quite sure what she was serious about: thinking they were called snowballs or not being drunk. They were laughing so hard that the cabbie had to tell them three times they were at their stop.
Joslyn was the first one out this time, literally launched from her seat by Orlando so that she was forced to either take a few steps or face-plant on the concrete. She waited for everyone else to follow, then took Grant’s arm to help him stay up since he seemed a bit less stable than even she in her hooker boots.
Dora glanced over her shoulder at Orlando to ask, “Can you make it to your house okay?”
“I thought Joslyn– Joslyn! After helping you pick out your sheets you aren’t going to–“
”Go home!” she yelled as loudly as though they were still in the club. Seeing as they weren’t, though, her voice traveled much further than she had meant it, and hit sharply against everyone’s ears. He flipped her the bird; she did it back; they were even for the night.
Dora reached the door first and fiddled with the keys for several long seconds before finally finding the right one and sliding it into the lock. From there, it was anyone’s best guess how the boys made it to their rooms, and no surprise at all that they awoke in the clothes they had gone clubbing in.
Joslyn linked arms with Dora and trudged up both flights of stairs with her, laughing as her cousin commented, “You and Orlando sure have an odd relationship.”
“He reminds me of my brother,” Joslyn admitted, making a face.
“The lawyer?” Dora asked with a doubtful look, dropping arms as they passed her door.
Joslyn kept walking, her hips swaying with an exaggerated step as she shook her head and called over her shoulder, “Nope, the dead one!” Dora decided Joslyn had to be wasted.
Once inside her room, Joslyn peeled the boots off her sweaty feet, then shoved the new drapes back to glance at the house across the courtyard. With a stifled chuckle, she flipped Orlando the bird one final time before collapsing into her bed, still fully clothed.
Unfortunately, she didn’t see Orlando do the exact same thing. So they went to bed even. Or, at best, Orlando ahead by one since she had yet to follow through on her threats of bodily harm upon discovering he had been in on the highlighter fiasco . . .
You know, as much as I hate this story, it's awfully fun to write, lol
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20/Jan/2007, 23:25
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Orlylovesme15
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Re: The 409; ch. 4 added 1/20/07
quote: You know, as much as I hate this story, it's awfully fun to write, lol
I love this story!!! I can't wait for the next chapter!!
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21/Jan/2007, 19:39
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FaithVampireSlayer
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Re: The 409; ch. 3 added 1/18/07
Wonderful update mellon-nin... I havent kept up for some reason...*sighs... Anywho...hmmm... I wonder why he does feel at ease with her only after two days? hmm...shes not...*gasp...a..a...a...Sue is she?...of course shes not... I mean..er...nevermind..well anyway mellon-nin Melin narn gîn(i love your story)
Galu a teithad vain(good fortune and fair writing)
Namárië
Faith
Last edited by FaithVampireSlayer, 25/Jan/2007, 14:02
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25/Jan/2007, 13:38
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