fjordicswagger | Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

For a couple of minutes, Tamsin had contemplated the idea of just opening up Town Hall for the party, but... what would be the point in that? People were fired up on hormones, people wanted to get laid, you needed a space small enough to get 'em close together. So to speak.

Also, this way she got free booze out of the deal, so-- win win.

She'd hung the black sheets back in front of the large store windows (partly to keep the light out, partly so it was slightly less obvious the house was technically a shop she was technically maybe squatting in). She'd tossed a ton of pillows and an old mattress on the floor, since she didn't actually have a sofa, per sé. The rooms upstairs were... well, okay, they were rooms.

And there was a table for incoming booze. With solo cups. Of course.

Perfect. Time for a party. If anyone had seen the posters...

[[ ocd ~~incoming...~~ up! adults only party is a go! eta: i should probably note browse responsibly, since there might be hints of nsfw in the comments at some point, i have no idea how this post will roll ]]

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"Oh, I work pro bono now," Irene said, lifting a brow. "But before here, I was London's premiere dominatrix -- I worked for royalty, diplomats, mayors...."

Irene didn't even have a handy excuse for her lack of subtlety. She was just like that.

"You know, I like the sound of that," Tamsin said thoughtfully. "You want to make out and maybe move it to your place later?"

That was what they were going for here, right?

"God, I love this week," Irene sighed happily, taking a step closer. "Absolutely yes. Are you always this direct or is it a this-week thing? Because I'm really bloody sick of beating around the bush with the 'oh, I like women, do you like women, how interesting' shit."

Funny. Steps closer had a weird way of multiplying. At least if the other party was also setting them. "Well, I'm not usually this horny," Tamsin said, "But I'm always happy to be a booty call for hot people, and I'm thinking you'll still be a nine when this is over, so..."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a ten. You've not seen me in action," Irene assured her, and okay, Tamsin, you were getting kissed now.

Tamsin was okay with that. Tamsin was a whole whopping bucketload of okay with that.

As Irene should be able to tell, by the way she was kissing back enthusiastically.

Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

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