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Maria is a no nonsense kind of woman. People around her have wants, she fulfills them, they stay happy. It may not be the most healthy way of conducting her business, but it's working out decently on the overall.
True, you can't really hold zoom meetings in your Comicon ready Sailor Moon cosplay. Not really. But you can take calls in it. And probably, for Vinnie, the prospect of hanging around in Maria's office while she verbally gladhands with TV producers and Police union spokespeople wearing that outfit for his benefit that's enough to keep him hanging around until her last call is logged for the early evening and she closes up her laptop and turns her chair towards him.
The wig was a nice touch. Not necessary, probably. But a nice touch. "Sorry about that. Stuff gets scheduled out ahead of becoming a Ghoul. So. Gonna have to adapt a bit in the coming months. Be patient with that?"
"It's fine," Vincent says, not really sure if the cosplay was appropriate for the occasion, but not complaining either, "So. . .I have alot of ideas and I need to know what's doable and what's not, thankfully I have the hottest assistant in the world for that." he says giving her a small tap on the cheek
"That you do, sir," she says with enough vocal fry to cook an egg. "So? Talk to me? Tell me what you want." Maria relaxes into her chair and folds her gloved hands together under the red bow on her blouse. "I'm listening."
"Ok, so," he begins, "So, first things first, I want a nightclub," he begins, "A place to do dirty deals and keep a finger on the pulse, however, I also want a part of it to be for the supernatural folks, you see the new batman movie, where their is a literal underground nightclub beneath the actual nightclub. . .is that possible?"
"I have a secret coven where people invoke dark powers through the unbroken chains of my blood and ancestry, and it's underground a burned out mansion house up on the cliffs, so I figure nah. Just a question of budgeting and contracting and all that. The more people you involve in a super secret build, the more people you need to own or erase, so." She see saws a hand. "I can know some guys to get the work done, though. It's fine. If it needs to happen."
Maria opens her laptop again, this time to take notes for this meeting rather than some other. She types lazily, the screen reflecting off her little reading glasses.
"So do you want it to be a nightclub but only for supernaturals? That could be dope. Or a nightclub with a vip for supernaturals? Or a nightclub where everyone mingles with the supernaturals, which we also call most nightclubs in Philadelphia. Just trying to figure out your angle, or if you have one."
"A nightclub for the public .. . with a literal underground club for only supernaturals, and a second or even third floor if doable VIP rooms for feeding, glamour harvesting for the Lost, secret meetings, and of course hookups." he chuckles, "And an office for our personal use, meetings, surveillance. . .and hook ups." he adds chuckling again then thinks
"On the business side I've narrowed down what I think we'll put our fingers in. . .blackmail and information is my bread and butter so I want to run the Vice trade, sex, drugs, maybe gambling if we can, I want to be the king shit of that sphere." he says, "Sex of course needs to consider our workers, I'm not going to be a slave driving pimp, sex work is real work and I'd want my employee's to be safe and secure." he says, "As for the drugs, their are plenty stock brokers who still do lines of coke when they can, weed is becoming more legalized but we can ship to places where it's not, I don't want to target addicts though. . .and no dealing to children, if any of our product ends up near a schoolyard or playground, someone's dead." he says, a tad of red lighting his eyes before calming down, "So, what do you think?"
She turns her chair about slowly, letting her red latex boot clad calves sway as she pushes herself around in a lazy thoughtful circle. "You have a lot of good ideas," is what she finally says after some reflection. She stops staring off at nothing and shifts her head a bit against her executive chair back. Her dark eyes find his and fall down them to die a thousand times, forever, all over again.
"What's your definition of excellence? Don't reach for a book or think about it. Tell me. And if you don't have one, we should start there."
"Excellence," he comments, thinking on the question, not entirely sure what she's asking. "I guess. . .I honestly done't know babe." he says, "But I have a feeling your going to teach me something."
"I'm not saying there's a right answer, but I am saying your answer should inform every decision we make moving forward. Every one. No rash ones. No brash ones. No bones thrown. No concessions. Rock hard absolute dedication to that single vision. We can adjust what we write down as we go ahead, dial in for perfection. But we are always doing what is on the paper. Because if I am following the plan, and you're stepdicking to jazz flute this isn't going to work."
That said, she pivots. "For me, excellence is the basics done well. Take all those little human wants and needs and elevate them to art. Be honest with me.,now. Now that I've said that, do you see that around me?"
he thinks, "Yes, I do." he says, "I guess then. .. .excellence would be being able to turn a shitty situation into an opportunity." he says standing up and walking around the desk, "To be able to control the strings and nobody know's its you. . .that's excellence," he then turns to her, reaching out a hand to cup her face, "Silver linings. . .if I was still breathing I would have never met you."
"Okay. If excellence is controlling the strings with nobody knowing it's you, why are we building a fancy night club in the middle of the city for everyone to be in about it? Right? If your vision of true excellence is standing four steps back with your fingers on the heads of the people with their hands on the backs of the people with power? A nightclub just isn't it, Vinnie. Not with you involved in it, anyway. It shouldn't look like you, smell like you, fuck like you, hunt like you, or taste like you. If that's what you really are after. The anonymous guy behind the throne."
Her head tilts to the side again asking, "That really you?"
he sighs, "No, it's not, I want to be the big man in charge and people to know it but with my. . .condition I don't know how the do that," he sighs, "I want to be the center of attention, I want to be the guy people are scared to say the name of, the one they want to be fucked by, I want to suck the blood of porn stars, I want it all, I want to matter!" he says, red eyes and fangs, voice filled with passion and emotion, "I want to be the king, hell I want to be the closest thing to god!"
In the end it's kind of his fault. He gave her the Daeva blood. And she knows what to do with it. Because there's that purr in her voice again when she leans forward onto the desk, "You want to be the King Shit, right? Do you remember what king shit doesn't do? King Shit doesn't threaten. King shit doesn't boast. King shit doesn't run his mouth. King shit asks. Then king shit does. And if you're in the way of king shit when the doing is getting done, it's not like king shit didn't fucking warn you."
She leans back in her seat again to spin her chair with another lazy little kick. "King Shit is where the power needs to be, becoming that power. King Shit creates power from nothing, because he recognizes where it should be and assumes control of it. King shit stands in the street and says excuse me to the traffic. Is that you?"
he looks up at her, eyes filled with drive, ambition, lust, hate, every emotion of the blood, "That's me." he repeats, "King Vinny the Shit." he laughs, not a kind or warm laugh, more a. . .evil laugh as the kids say
Her Sailor Moon costume is very likely not making it out of this office alive. She's ordered plenty. It's fine. But she can't hide her eager, hungry, dope-fiend sick smile. Her regnant is cackling about how demented she is, and that's warm feelies all the way down to her toes.
"Then here is what I suggest we do, baby. We long ball this. Right now this city doesn't have a safe cool spot for our kind to unwind with a glass and a smoke. Music. You know? You don't need to make money from this right out of the gates. You don't. Do you? Look around. Money is not your problem. Access is. Influence. Connections. Strings to tickle. We can run this place at a significant loss, and I can write it off on my taxes. So let's stop thinking in those terms. This is a game of who you want to know, who you want to impress, who you want to be standing next to when the bad news comes down the wire. You know?"
"Just do the simple shit well there. Give them excellent secrecy, excellent safety, excellent hospitality, food, drink, entertainment. Excellent dancing. Excellent ethics. Excellent everything. Don't ask for shit for it. Don't even really bring it up that it's a big deal. 'Yeah, I saw the need, I made it happen.' Do. Not. Brag.. They will come there, they will sit in their soundproof rooms behind their wizard wards and have their converssations they can't have over waffles. You could see about getting the Okorafor & Kan on retainer for mediation. Free of charge. As a community service. That shit bills at $1200 an hour, Vinnie. Fucking water to us, who gives a shit. Talk to other artists. Say you need art about togetherness and fucking peace and cooperation and clever plans and just. Fucking. Take my Amex and fill the walls with it."
"Put a big fucking statue to Blessed Concord in the lovely reflecting pond slash wishing fountain, get yourself a spirit to latch on to it, and you can have yourself a little cult of blessed concord in there. For people like me to work to... to... to keep the peace in Philadelphia. To promote civic harmony and all of that shit. Until it's Mister Drake, could you spare a moment? Mister Drake, could I get a room? Mister Drake, I need your input on something."
"Every favor asked is a fucking licked boot to King Shit, because King Shit never forgets a favor. King Shit never rubs it in, though. King Shit just shows up one day and says, 'I need your help with something. Are you free?' And then they decide if they're in the way of the doing or not."
He listens, eyes wide, a place to gather favor, trust, influence and then expand on itself, a few bugs in VIP rooms for the mortal customers, their not the one's he needs to respect the privacy of. ..bound spirit. "What do you mean by bound spirit?" he asks, making his way over and taking a seat on her desk, "You know shit about this side I don't, do you?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, "I like what I'm hearing though, gather favor and respect, play it cool, just be friendly neihborhood Vinny," he intones, "This is why I love you baby, you take my ideas and refine it to a work of art," he moves to pick her up, sitting her on his lap, "So how we make the vice work then baby girl, you refined the club, now the vices we feed."
"King Shit needs to be a benevolent king. The Sakima won't have it any other way. Fuck, I got the stink eye in the Waffle House by a nice lady who wanted to rescue me from my slavery and bondage, here." Maria holds up her wrists before herself, Wonder Woman style briefly. "From you, Vinnie. And you treat me right, and I mean that. You gotta be real careful playing villain around these people. Learning that real fast. So."
"There's already enough pushers and $10 Carls on the corners of this town, pushing doctored, sick shit on people for money. We know clean suppliers. They're clean suppliers with scruples, too. And they want to fucking save me or whatever. So. I guarantee you if we go to them and say, look, we're gonna set up a place with a clean supply. It'll sell under the street, always. But it has to sell to work. We let them divert off our non-functional users and the willing and the one's that can't do it anymore to treatment programs. Never argue with a word of it. Let our addicts clean up if they want. Just makes room for the next poor fucker in need of a clean needle. You're not exactly printing money, but you're making safe money, and again it's money that you're making while giving all the goodnicks around here the warm feelies."
He nods, resting his chin on her shoulder, "Clean supply, clean use. . if we can get those suppliers that would be great," he intones, "And it doesn't sound too scummy, supply and demand," he kisses her neck, "And what about the Sex, how can we pull that off while still being oh so benevolent?" he asks, nuzzling against her
Maria reaches down her top and sloooowly pulls out a long, slender plastic bag with almost a full sheet of very, very, very excellent lab dosed LSD. That sheet wasn't made by some party freak in a college lab. That was made by a god damned artist. She holds the baggy in front of him with the assurance of a want already met. She predicted him. She delivered.
"If you want to trip balls tonight, I'll drop and you can have a taste of me. The way I bleed, you won't need to go out if you don't wanna."
"If you wanna test the supplier." She dangles the baggy twice.
"Sex is way easier in this day and age. You're gonna need to describe 'sex' for me, though. Cos Sex work is a whole wide array of talents, skills, and professions. It's like saying 'what do you want to do about sales'. What kinda sex you like?"
"I've never tasted high blood before," he mutters holding her closer, "I like it passionate and rough, but that's me. . .I guess we cater people to someone who can fit their need, they like someone to touch and talk to, we have someone, they like it animalistic and rough, we have someone to deliver, they want to be whiped and have the law layed down, we got someone," he says, "and if you want someone with nice blood that looks like someone you knew a hundred years ago. . .well it can also be a cover for blood on demand for my folks." he grins, "I am rather thirsty now," he whispers into her ear.
"Oh," says Maria, "so you mean fucking. You want a brothel. Got it. Yeah, see. Sex work is a lot more than fucking, Vinnie. Like. So much more. In fact? There's more money in humiliating a wallstreet banker for voting for Trump and liking Elon Musk than there is in letting some dirtbag shoot his load in me. There are a whole fuck ton of perfectly legal things people can get up to that you need $250 an hour, minimum, to afford. Things people are ashamed of Vinnie. A lot more shameful than having a pecker in a girl half his age. Get him being pegged by a girl dressed like Gritty, and now that is some cash money, there. Better, that is power, Vinnie."
"Ok, so that goes back to what I said, we match someone to someone that has what they want, a simple fuck sure. . .but if rich fuckers want to do something legal but their ashamed of. . .more power to me then." he shrugs, "Brothel could work, if only I had a madame to work it. . .I wonder who could do that." he teases
"Yeah, but here's how that would work, Vinnie. If you want me to run a brothel you're gonna say, 'baby, make me a brothel', and then I am going to take care of my people, Vinnie. And I'm gonna do it my way. Cos I long since made my peace with the self as currency. And it is not a fucking decision I made lightly. So I see any of that from you in this, I'm going to leave you trying to manage a brothel I told you to fucking not do that to. In fact if I ever do make a place, hands off my people. Fangs out of 'em to. They work for themselves, the house takes a cut as facilitator. The information they share is willing, and we're paying bonuses for good results. Pay for play, pay for performance. We don't threaten, or order. We facilitate. What you're asking me to do is find you a stable of artists, Vinnie. And you either respect that about me or I'm actually not the right lady for the job for you, no."
She does turn her head to press a kiss to his cheek. "But if that's something you wanna do, the sex work? And you're willing to make that trade with me? I'll let you nibble on me and sing the song."
She primly tears open the baggie and takes a tab off the sheet, settling it onto her tongue and rolling it back into her mouth. She settles her head against his temple and begins to sing very softly, "Fighting evil by moonlight..."
"Baby. . .make me a brothel," he says, "Do it how you see best and it's your business, you run it." he says, smiling, once she takes the acid he kisses her neck a few times before giving her the Kiss, it's deep and focuses on how to make it the most pleasurable for her
Maria chose her fix, and it has its fangs in her neck, and everything is just okay for a while. Oh, she makes all the pleasant noises, and her body squirms in all the proper ways, but it's the absolute nothing making sense in her head that's the best part of all of this. All there is, is Vincent, and the kiss, and the moment.
Which prompts her to whisper when she can manage, "...slower...", then, "...more..."
he drinks, grinding a bit from both the Kiss itself and the high coming from from her blood, he can't help but moan abit. After a minute that seemed like hours her removed his fangs and kissed her neck, "Only I get to drink from you, my sweet baby girl." he intones, "Thanks for the blood, you still in a head for logistics talk cause theirs something I think I need for blood."
It will never ever be enough. But for a while, it's everything. And when it's gone, she's even more pale than she had been, her skin matching a little too much with the blue of her collar and not the red of her bow. And all together too much the white of her shirt. Her eyelids flutter and she smacks around on her desk for a cigarette and her lighter. She manages to get one lit and stares at the ceiling, one boot slumped down her calf.
"I mean. You got like. A bit before the acid kicks in. So. I'm. Just tell me what you need me to do, Vinnie." There's a bit of nausea that comes with the blood loss, but she just covers her mouth with her hand and gets through it. "Could you grab me one of the protien drinks from the minifridge, baby? I'm learning what helps. Sugar and fluids, turns out."
"Shit, I'm sorry," he says getting the fridge and grabbing her drink, he hands it to her, "And this is what I mean, I can't just drink from you and Avy all the time but I can't hunt all the time, their's this vampire I know. . .kind hate and admire her a the same time but, anyway, she said I need to get myself a 'Herd'," he says, "I need to find a small group of people who I can drink from, we both know how the Kiss feels so their's plenty of folks who could come for it, I just need folks who can keep their mouths shut." he says, sitting down
Maria accepts the drink with a lusty, if worn out sort of laugh. "Oh, baby. Do not be sorry for what you just did to me. That felt so good." She sounds entirely serious as she trades her cigarette for the neck of her protein drink. She downs half of it out of the gates, making a bit of a face, but not a lot. "Chocolate," she explains. "Bit chalky. But. Not. Like. Terrible."
She straightens up in her chair a little and straightens out her boots and clothes from all her pleasured thrashing. "You like boys, Vinnie? Or is Avery a special case when Avery's boymode? Cos if you do like boys? There's a whole raft of pent up men out there living lives in need of a stiff dicking and would take your kiss as sure as they might use poppers for it. Fuck, they'll be men that need a caring hand, that probably ain't never been made love to by a man. Just what you can get in an alleyway for twenty bucks. It's getting better, but let's face it, the underworld isn't precisely known for its tolerance of homosexuals. Yanno?"
Her head ticks a little to the side, "I don't mind watchin', either. Since I know you're wondering."
"I like twinks and femboys," he shrugs, "Not one for butch and muscle. .. but yeah, I'm bi." he says, fully admitting it, and chuckles, "If you want to watch that's you," he laughs, "Cute guy on one arm, hot girl on the other, blood flows." he muses, "Can you look into that then, nice good looking healthy folks that want a fix of Vinny, who can keep their mouth shut about being a Vampire's blood bag?"
"This is such a weird conversation," she admits up at the ceiling. She sighs a faux exasperated, "Yes, Vincent, I will find you the prettiest of pretty boys with fragile postures and chippable nails and a pouty little moue to really drive home they nibble some pillow, and then I will tell them all about you. And then question mark question mark nibble necks. I'll see to it in the morning."
She smokes another drag off her cigarette. "Or. Let's be realistic. Day after. This trip's gonna knock me over."
he chuckles, "You need anything, want me to put ya on the couch, bed, what goes good with a high babe?"
"Trip," she corrects, but it's not really important. "Yeah. Take me to my room. Turn on the music visualizer, throw on my mellow trip playlist. And if you want, you can stick around. I'll get my color back in a bit." Her eyes meet his again, meaningfully. "And while you're carrying me, there? I want to let you know I'm taking Avery on a date. Just the two of us. We're gonna talk some stuff through, feel each other out. Just wanted you to know. I don't imagine we'll wind up in bed, but if we do? Be cool about it."
he smiles and picks her up bridal style, "I think that sounds amazing babe, a nice night or day out, just the two of you, making inside jokes and memories," he says as he walks to her room, "I love how you are with them Maria and I'm grateful, truly," he smiles warmly, like she's a gift from god, "For now, let daddy take care of you, my tempting little succubus."
"Can't do worse than the last guy, Vinnie," Maria doesn't really joke against his shoulder, letting her eyes close. This is unfathomably and probably terrifyingly pleasant. So she doesn't linger in her rest for long. Her eyes open, and she resumes staring out at the world again.
But then she relents saying simply, "Sure, daddy."
Now that clearly get's a reaction, but now is time for care and not pleasure, gently placing her on the bed he takes a step back, "Anything else ya need, say the word, if not I'll head off and see to some things, you gonna be alright alone?" he asks
"Always have been before you, Vinnie. Give me a kiss, tell me you love me, look me in the eye and say you're proud of me. Then go. I got thinkin' to do. Let Avery know where I'm at." Maria has got what she needs for this particular moment.
he smiles and leans down to kiss her, "I love you Maira," he says looking into her eyes, "I'm so fucking proud of you." he says caressing her cheek, "Enjoy the trip." he tells her and walks to the door, closing it, leaving her to spaceships and dragons.
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