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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"We haven't met, have we?" Irene decided. "Because I feel like I'd remember you."

She stuck out one beautifully-manicured hand -- she had dressed down, but some things didn't change. "Irene. Lovely place you've got here."

"Tamsin."

Tamsin's hand was not manicured in the slightest, but she had a strong grip and she was wearing a tank top she knew made her boobs pop and a set of leather pants. Which she felt made up for that.

"Thanks," she added. "So going by the goodie bag and the name I think I've heard on radio, you're the proprietor of the sex shop. Can I mention the city of Fandom is very happy to have your patronage?"

She didn't add 'and stuff', but it was implied.

"Likewise," Irene replied with a bright smile. "The locals seem to have little to no problem keeping me in business, here."

Especially this week.

"And you're the...." She frowned, as though thinking, and gave Tamsin a critical once-over as though trying to place her -- but, let's be real, she was using it as an excuse to pretty obviously stare at her rack. "Sheriff, right? I've always liked law enforcement."

In a manner of speaking.

"Mayor, actually," Tamsin said. "But you're not the first person to get that wrong."

She wasn't going to fault Irene for it, though. Not when the woman was staring at her rack. "I used to be law enforcement. Does that still count?"

"I like politicians even better," Irene assured her, smirking. Again, in a manner of speaking. "And of course it still counts, because I say so. I do feel as though our little island is in good hands, though -- most mayors don't look as though they could do anything if push came to shove. Whereas you seem more than...capable."

Pause.

"What with the law enforcement background, and all."

"I've been known to kick an ass or two," Tamsin said, smirking. "Or two thousand."

What? It was true.

"I'm guessing no one ever has to question your credentials," she said. "I mean, look: you bring thoughtful gifts, you've got good taste, and you're aggressively hot. Bet you're selling condoms like hotcakes on a normal week."

"Can't keep 'em on the shelves," Irene agreed. "Not to mention the other paraphernalia -- there's plenty of lonely hearts that need soothing this week, so to speak."

That was a really delicate way of saying you'd sold a lot of dildos, Irene, good job.

"But believe it or not," she added with a smirk, "I sort of fell into the sex shop thing, when I got here. I'm actually a dominatrix by trade."

In case that was of any interest to you at all, Tamsin. Aaaaaaany at all.

"Been a while since I banged one of those," Tamsin mused.

Like six hundred years, but who was counting, really? "Though that one wasn't really doing it as a paid vocation."

She was a Valkyrie, of course she was as subtle as a Viking attack, god.

"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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