Unity – Wake The Snake
by Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
ON
"What about this one?" A small, petite Cardassian women said, pointing to a small bar. She held in her arms a Cardassian PADD, which she cradled like a baby.
"Don't be a peasant. That's a typical spot for something Human's call 'binge drinking'. Something more... Mixed is prefered." Tharek replied. He stood in the direct centre of the promenade, looking devious, cunning and vile. Same as always. "Oh... " he started as he walked towards a welcoming and bright bar. It's name stated 'The Box Of Delights.'
"This looks better." He said, pacing directly into the bar, not waiting for his lackey.
The 'lackey' thought it best to wait for Tharek outside, as getting in his way could prove harmful to her health. Piece of shit. She thought to herself.
Yolanthe lit the sparkler in the last Red Nebula and pointed the waiter in the direction of the relevant customers, "Table three, go." She put the lighter back on the bar and bent over to rescue the fruit rinds that had fallen to the floor. Red Nebulas were garnished with what felt like half a tropical rain forest and the peel always ended up on the ground. She didn't notice the approach of the Cardassian, who seemed to just appear in front of her when she straightened up. She jumped, and the whole spectrum flashed across her skin before it settle back to dusky violet. "Hey there.' She gave him a dazzling smile to cover her surprise. "What's your poison?"
"Kanar. The absolute oldest and best you have. And I want crates of it." Tharek proclaimed, leaning onto the bar with one elbow. "I want it fresh. No replicated Federation crap in a bottle. Can you do that?"
Yolanthe looked down at him, and was surprised to find she didn't have to look down far. The Cardassian was so far the tallest man she'd met on the station. If she took her shoes off he'd probably be the same height. Her violet skin took on a slight hint of rose. She held up a finger. "Well, there we have a problem. Oldest doesn't necessarily mean best." She turned to the several bottles of Kanar next to the optics run.
"This, this is the oldest. Its a forty-two. Wonderful dark umber colouring, strong smoky aftertaste, and hints of spices. Mostly pazafar." she brought out two balloon glasses, and poured a generous measure into one. She corked the bottle, and put it back, swapping it for another characteristic twisted glass bottle. This one was lighter, close to orange.
"This is from a micro-distillery near Culat. They age it in unscorched barrels rather than the traditional fired ones. It doesn't get as dark, but that smoky aftertaste doesn't taint the top notes, and makes it smoother going down. Whats more, because they don't mature it for exceedingly long periods, about 25 years at most, there's no chance of the syrup crystallizing, so the flavours stay clear and don't fade." She poured from the second bottle, then pushed them both towards the Cardassian. "Let me know which you prefer, and we can talk about crates."
Tharek picked up one glass. He swirled the darker one. He then mimiced the style of an experienced wine critic. "Good colour, and a terrific smell." He took one sip. "Hm... It's not the best I've ever tasted, but it's nice none the less."
He took the other glass, and repeated the process. "This is indeed better in flavour, colour and texture. But, the older one is well... Old. Older beverages show power. Wealth. What would you recommend?" Tharek changed his tone at the end of his sentence, into a warm tone.
"Honestly?" Yolanthe gave it a moments thought. "I'd take some of both. You want the Forty-two to share with those people who think that power can only be defined by such blunt instruments as wealth, age, simple qualities. It shows you understand them, and the rules. But you want to take the Culat Special Reserve for yourself, and those select few who understand nuance and subtlety. It also makes a nice little statement about pre-conceived notions about something leading you to seriously underestimate it. Which, when it comes to you," she leant on the bar with both elbows, so she could look him in the eye, "I suspect can be costly."
"Your suspicions would be correct, my dear." He said, leaning in, locking eye contact. "How much for a steady supply? Two crates a month?"
Ahh Cardassians. She glanced down at her hands. Sure enough her fingers were definitely now heading for a shade that was more coral than violet. Well, time to see if the man was serious, or just bluffing. "The 42 is currently 500 bars of latinum a 12 bottle case. The CSR is only 350. I review prices every 3 months, and only guarantee supply for as long as it lasts. There's not a lot of 42 left in the Galaxy. And I'll need 50% upfront as a deposit." She kept eye contact, wondering if he'd flinch.
He smirked. He knew that this women was only interested in one thing; Money. He smiled as he waved out of the door to his 'lackey'. Sure enough, she came in quickly to Tharek's side. "Yes, Sir?" She enquired.
"See to the paperwork would you. And, give her 425 bars of latinum. Give her the rest when I receive the crates." Tharek said, looking down on the frail Cardassian woman.
Yolanthe suppressed a grin. That had gone down smoother than the Special Reserve. "And will you be collecting, or do you need it delivering somewhere?"
"I'll come collect it. I don't want to keep you from a potential profit, lest you be gone." Tharek gestured to his companion with one, swift move of his head. "Get the bars, pay the lady, and have the crates brought back to the embassy."
She bowed politely. "At your command, Vi'kar Gul."
Embassy? Gul? Her knowledge of other races political structure was shaky even on a good day, but one obvious conclusion presented itself. No wonder he hadn't flinched at the price. "I look forward to your visit," she tilted her head in question, "...Ambassador?"
"You catch on quick. Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal. At your service." He bowed poetically. "I'm the Cardassian ambassador on this wretched station."
"Yolanthe Ibalin, not-so-humble Bartender of my little pleasure palace," She extended her arm in a theatrical gesture to take in all of the bar, the gaming tables, the holosuites "Reducing the wretchedness of Federation space stations two cases of Kanar at a time." She gave him a warm smile. "And if its really so bad here that Kanar isn't enough, I'd be more than happy to help you find any other diversion you'd care to name."
"I'm new to leasure. I get too wound up in galactic politics. I know near to none leasurable activities." Tharek confessed, scratching the back of his neck lightly.
"None?" Yolanthe was surprised. "Oh my." the Hue of her skin saturated a couple of levels, and passed through a hot fuchsia to a royal blue, before settling down at a warm maroon red. Could someone who was a political heavyweight enough to be made an ambassador really be innocent of anything? "Where to start a man of wealth and taste?" She examined him frankly. "In control?" She asked, in a tone that clearly stated 'boring', "Or," she continued with a wicked smile, "Out of it?"
He matched her wicked smile. "Out of it sounds fun. What would you reccommend for someone such as myself?"
"I can think of something to start you off... gently." She walked around the bar and took him by the hand and ran one finger lightly down an exposed portion of a neck ridge "Come upstairs with me."
"Don't have to ask me twice." Tharek said. Following her lead. He grew a smile on his face, from ear to ear.
She lead the Cardassian ambassador up to the second floor, her complexion warming with every step until it was the rich dark red of human blood. She headed directly for the small lounge they had sectioned off from the main second floor bar. In front of its opaque glass doors that shined liked polished obsidian was a small notice: Doors open 21:30. More than enough time. She opened the door a crack, checked inside, then looked back at the grinning ambassador. He seemed more than ready. Let the games commence.
Yolanthe drew him inside the empty venue, walls draped with heavy curtains, lit by small table lamps on only a handful of tables in front of a small stage. "Computer, I'd like one of Madame Meow's special chairs, for the ambassador." less than a moment later an elegant chair, a black frame thickly upholstered with burgundy velvet materialised facing the empty stage. She pushed him down into the plush seat and knelt in front of him, never dropping eye contact. She ran her hands down his arms, holding them to his sides until she was certain he wasn't going to move, then brought her hands forward, sliding across his hips and along the tops of his thighs till they were resting on his knees. "Last chance Ambassador. You can back out now if you'd rather stay in control?"
"I've never been one for backing out." He stated bluntly. The grin still on his face. He admired Yolanthe's body. It was perfect. The tone of her skin only amplified the mood. Her thighs, hips, legs, breasts, hair and face were all so perfect. Tharek could only stare at her, and think of what was coming.
"I'm so very glad to hear that." She licked her lips, enjoying the expression on his face, and almost felt sorry for what was coming next. "Computer, lock down."
Instantly, the chair sprouted restraints that snapped about the Cardassian's wrists and ankles. The chair also welded itself to the floor. Tharek Getal wasn't going anywhere. Satisfied he was secure, she rose. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, but I'm not the main event." She gave him a little smirk, and stepped out of reach "I'm not even on the menu."
She moved behind him, and bent down so she was level with with his ear. Her long hair fell forward and brushed against his neck. "But don't worry, they are."
The curtains at the back of the stage fluttered, and through them emerged four women in glittering costumes that sparkled suggestively in the low light of the room . Each was a different species, Orion, Andorian, Human and one that was probably Romulan, but all of them filled the mind with words like feminine, luscious, nubile, curvaceous, pert, exotic, mouth-watering.
"Madam Meow and her girls do a special show for my favoured customers. First we take you out of control. And then they make you lose control." She patted him on the shoulder as they prowled down from the stage towards them. "I'll leave you to their tender mercies. Resistance, as they say, is futile."
Tharek struggled from the mere shock of the restriants, but soon understood Yolanthe's game. Before she was out of ear shot, he spoke loud enough for her to hear him clearly, "I'll have to return the favour one day." He cast a wicked grin, whether she could see it or not.
OFF
A Joint Post By:
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dignatary
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Bartender & Owner, The Box of Delights
by Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | Wake The Snake | |
| Mission | Unity | |
| Author(s) | Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Wed Jan 27, 2010 @ 5:02pm | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD 16: 20:00 |
"What about this one?" A small, petite Cardassian women said, pointing to a small bar. She held in her arms a Cardassian PADD, which she cradled like a baby.
"Don't be a peasant. That's a typical spot for something Human's call 'binge drinking'. Something more... Mixed is prefered." Tharek replied. He stood in the direct centre of the promenade, looking devious, cunning and vile. Same as always. "Oh... " he started as he walked towards a welcoming and bright bar. It's name stated 'The Box Of Delights.'
"This looks better." He said, pacing directly into the bar, not waiting for his lackey.
The 'lackey' thought it best to wait for Tharek outside, as getting in his way could prove harmful to her health. Piece of shit. She thought to herself.
Yolanthe lit the sparkler in the last Red Nebula and pointed the waiter in the direction of the relevant customers, "Table three, go." She put the lighter back on the bar and bent over to rescue the fruit rinds that had fallen to the floor. Red Nebulas were garnished with what felt like half a tropical rain forest and the peel always ended up on the ground. She didn't notice the approach of the Cardassian, who seemed to just appear in front of her when she straightened up. She jumped, and the whole spectrum flashed across her skin before it settle back to dusky violet. "Hey there.' She gave him a dazzling smile to cover her surprise. "What's your poison?"
"Kanar. The absolute oldest and best you have. And I want crates of it." Tharek proclaimed, leaning onto the bar with one elbow. "I want it fresh. No replicated Federation crap in a bottle. Can you do that?"
Yolanthe looked down at him, and was surprised to find she didn't have to look down far. The Cardassian was so far the tallest man she'd met on the station. If she took her shoes off he'd probably be the same height. Her violet skin took on a slight hint of rose. She held up a finger. "Well, there we have a problem. Oldest doesn't necessarily mean best." She turned to the several bottles of Kanar next to the optics run.
"This, this is the oldest. Its a forty-two. Wonderful dark umber colouring, strong smoky aftertaste, and hints of spices. Mostly pazafar." she brought out two balloon glasses, and poured a generous measure into one. She corked the bottle, and put it back, swapping it for another characteristic twisted glass bottle. This one was lighter, close to orange.
"This is from a micro-distillery near Culat. They age it in unscorched barrels rather than the traditional fired ones. It doesn't get as dark, but that smoky aftertaste doesn't taint the top notes, and makes it smoother going down. Whats more, because they don't mature it for exceedingly long periods, about 25 years at most, there's no chance of the syrup crystallizing, so the flavours stay clear and don't fade." She poured from the second bottle, then pushed them both towards the Cardassian. "Let me know which you prefer, and we can talk about crates."
Tharek picked up one glass. He swirled the darker one. He then mimiced the style of an experienced wine critic. "Good colour, and a terrific smell." He took one sip. "Hm... It's not the best I've ever tasted, but it's nice none the less."
He took the other glass, and repeated the process. "This is indeed better in flavour, colour and texture. But, the older one is well... Old. Older beverages show power. Wealth. What would you recommend?" Tharek changed his tone at the end of his sentence, into a warm tone.
"Honestly?" Yolanthe gave it a moments thought. "I'd take some of both. You want the Forty-two to share with those people who think that power can only be defined by such blunt instruments as wealth, age, simple qualities. It shows you understand them, and the rules. But you want to take the Culat Special Reserve for yourself, and those select few who understand nuance and subtlety. It also makes a nice little statement about pre-conceived notions about something leading you to seriously underestimate it. Which, when it comes to you," she leant on the bar with both elbows, so she could look him in the eye, "I suspect can be costly."
"Your suspicions would be correct, my dear." He said, leaning in, locking eye contact. "How much for a steady supply? Two crates a month?"
Ahh Cardassians. She glanced down at her hands. Sure enough her fingers were definitely now heading for a shade that was more coral than violet. Well, time to see if the man was serious, or just bluffing. "The 42 is currently 500 bars of latinum a 12 bottle case. The CSR is only 350. I review prices every 3 months, and only guarantee supply for as long as it lasts. There's not a lot of 42 left in the Galaxy. And I'll need 50% upfront as a deposit." She kept eye contact, wondering if he'd flinch.
He smirked. He knew that this women was only interested in one thing; Money. He smiled as he waved out of the door to his 'lackey'. Sure enough, she came in quickly to Tharek's side. "Yes, Sir?" She enquired.
"See to the paperwork would you. And, give her 425 bars of latinum. Give her the rest when I receive the crates." Tharek said, looking down on the frail Cardassian woman.
Yolanthe suppressed a grin. That had gone down smoother than the Special Reserve. "And will you be collecting, or do you need it delivering somewhere?"
"I'll come collect it. I don't want to keep you from a potential profit, lest you be gone." Tharek gestured to his companion with one, swift move of his head. "Get the bars, pay the lady, and have the crates brought back to the embassy."
She bowed politely. "At your command, Vi'kar Gul."
Embassy? Gul? Her knowledge of other races political structure was shaky even on a good day, but one obvious conclusion presented itself. No wonder he hadn't flinched at the price. "I look forward to your visit," she tilted her head in question, "...Ambassador?"
"You catch on quick. Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal. At your service." He bowed poetically. "I'm the Cardassian ambassador on this wretched station."
"Yolanthe Ibalin, not-so-humble Bartender of my little pleasure palace," She extended her arm in a theatrical gesture to take in all of the bar, the gaming tables, the holosuites "Reducing the wretchedness of Federation space stations two cases of Kanar at a time." She gave him a warm smile. "And if its really so bad here that Kanar isn't enough, I'd be more than happy to help you find any other diversion you'd care to name."
"I'm new to leasure. I get too wound up in galactic politics. I know near to none leasurable activities." Tharek confessed, scratching the back of his neck lightly.
"None?" Yolanthe was surprised. "Oh my." the Hue of her skin saturated a couple of levels, and passed through a hot fuchsia to a royal blue, before settling down at a warm maroon red. Could someone who was a political heavyweight enough to be made an ambassador really be innocent of anything? "Where to start a man of wealth and taste?" She examined him frankly. "In control?" She asked, in a tone that clearly stated 'boring', "Or," she continued with a wicked smile, "Out of it?"
He matched her wicked smile. "Out of it sounds fun. What would you reccommend for someone such as myself?"
"I can think of something to start you off... gently." She walked around the bar and took him by the hand and ran one finger lightly down an exposed portion of a neck ridge "Come upstairs with me."
"Don't have to ask me twice." Tharek said. Following her lead. He grew a smile on his face, from ear to ear.
She lead the Cardassian ambassador up to the second floor, her complexion warming with every step until it was the rich dark red of human blood. She headed directly for the small lounge they had sectioned off from the main second floor bar. In front of its opaque glass doors that shined liked polished obsidian was a small notice: Doors open 21:30. More than enough time. She opened the door a crack, checked inside, then looked back at the grinning ambassador. He seemed more than ready. Let the games commence.
Yolanthe drew him inside the empty venue, walls draped with heavy curtains, lit by small table lamps on only a handful of tables in front of a small stage. "Computer, I'd like one of Madame Meow's special chairs, for the ambassador." less than a moment later an elegant chair, a black frame thickly upholstered with burgundy velvet materialised facing the empty stage. She pushed him down into the plush seat and knelt in front of him, never dropping eye contact. She ran her hands down his arms, holding them to his sides until she was certain he wasn't going to move, then brought her hands forward, sliding across his hips and along the tops of his thighs till they were resting on his knees. "Last chance Ambassador. You can back out now if you'd rather stay in control?"
"I've never been one for backing out." He stated bluntly. The grin still on his face. He admired Yolanthe's body. It was perfect. The tone of her skin only amplified the mood. Her thighs, hips, legs, breasts, hair and face were all so perfect. Tharek could only stare at her, and think of what was coming.
"I'm so very glad to hear that." She licked her lips, enjoying the expression on his face, and almost felt sorry for what was coming next. "Computer, lock down."
Instantly, the chair sprouted restraints that snapped about the Cardassian's wrists and ankles. The chair also welded itself to the floor. Tharek Getal wasn't going anywhere. Satisfied he was secure, she rose. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, but I'm not the main event." She gave him a little smirk, and stepped out of reach "I'm not even on the menu."
She moved behind him, and bent down so she was level with with his ear. Her long hair fell forward and brushed against his neck. "But don't worry, they are."
The curtains at the back of the stage fluttered, and through them emerged four women in glittering costumes that sparkled suggestively in the low light of the room . Each was a different species, Orion, Andorian, Human and one that was probably Romulan, but all of them filled the mind with words like feminine, luscious, nubile, curvaceous, pert, exotic, mouth-watering.
"Madam Meow and her girls do a special show for my favoured customers. First we take you out of control. And then they make you lose control." She patted him on the shoulder as they prowled down from the stage towards them. "I'll leave you to their tender mercies. Resistance, as they say, is futile."
Tharek struggled from the mere shock of the restriants, but soon understood Yolanthe's game. Before she was out of ear shot, he spoke loud enough for her to hear him clearly, "I'll have to return the favour one day." He cast a wicked grin, whether she could see it or not.
OFF
A Joint Post By:
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dignatary
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Bartender & Owner, The Box of Delights