Gala Event, Bar
Adrian held his ground, not even flinching at her frosty gaze. He infact raised an eyebrow as she came closer. A fearless woman, especially considering the faintly "acidic" particles around Adrian that had begun to clash with Alison's frosty aura. Humble beginnings, he'd wonder bemusedly, I had two superstars for parents.
"I don't pretend, Guardian," he finished as she had turned her back. I fucking do it, he thought acidly. Adrian watched Guardian walk away, and put a hand to his head once she was out of sight. This night had proven to be more monumentous than he had anticipated. Deep breath. Good. You could handle this.
She was pretty strong.
Yeah.
She should probably be avoided.
Yeah.
Adrian sighed, stepping away from the area to look around at the festivities. It appeared that the speeches had been given, and the crowd accordingly impressed, as an excited after-buzz hovered around the gathered individuals. He glanced towards Alexis, and saw her with Cameron, Morgan and Guardian. No, the timing, it simply wouldn't do.
He turned, walking to the bar, allowing a particularly large amount of pheromones to hover around him and utterly intoxicate the typical array of star-studded celebrities. He piqued his ears to the classical music and rolled his eyes. This whole "elegant" event simply wasn't cutting it for him.
It's time to "Hartify" The Parthenon. And as the night's hosts were accordingly wrapped up in an unrelated situation, Adrian seized his opportunity. "Hi there," he announced cheerfully as he sat down next to Jessica Simpson. Hey, wasn't she married? Oh yeah. And he grinned as he spotted Nick Lachey next to her, who grinned back.
Amateurs.
A few minutes later, what had started out as a classy, clean cut celebration of the trium partners, was now rapidly turning into a wild, dirty party. The classical music had ended abruptly; in its place, "Lapdance" by N.E.R.D. A crowd had gathered near the bar where something awe-inspiring was taking place.
Dirty Dog
I'm, I'm a dirty dog
I'm a dirty dog
I'm, I'm a dirty dog
Dirty Dog
I'm a dirty dog
Dirty Dog
Adrian was laid out on top of the bar, his decency long gone. The fashionable black suit was torn open, with the suspicious marks of nails. Pink nails. Jessica's nails. And his magnificiently muscled, tanned torso was exposed. A blond head, Jessica's head, was bobbing as she licked off the cream, utterly entranced by the deliciously sculpted muscles and the handsome face of Adrian, who had an impish grin.
Oh yeah, and he was sucking the mouth off of Nick Lachey, Jessica's husband. And, mm, that lower lip, God.
I'm an outlaw
Quick on the draw
Somethin' you never seen before
And I dare a mother fucker to come in my face
I got somethin' chrome
And I got it from home
And it ain't a microphone
And I dare a mother fucker to come in my face
Adrian groaned. Nick laughed. Jessica giggled. "Ah ain't through with you yet, sweetie," she cooed with that Southern accent. Everyone around them was entranced. This was a testament to Adrian's abilities, as more and more individuals were drawn to the bar, with happy, complacent grins on their faces. Cat calls ensued. People joined in. Celebrities such as Hallie Barry lost all inhibitions and started up an impromptu Coyote Ugly dance routine.
Oh yes, the night was young.