tampered | (no subject)

When; Sunday July 5th, evening
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Blair

basstardchuck
Summary; This battle she will win.
Log;

It had taken her a total of two days to decide on a dress. One might think dressing for Chuck Bass' pleasure would be only too simple, but she knew better. There were the girls who did not interest him, or did interest him but only made it as another notch on his bedpost, and there were the ones that actually mattered. She wanted to be the last category, the only one in it. Dressing to the bare minimum would instantly land her in the second category with no chance of return in sight. That would be her very own personal Hell.

So she covered as much of herself as she could, wearing a Dior ensemble minus the mask plus black silk gloves that reached above her elbows. She painted her lips red red red. This battle she will win.

Striding into Victrola, she could feel the thumping music reverberate in her chest, making her heart race, but she was not nervous. She willed herself not to be nervous. She studied the dancers on the stage, as if she were cramming at the last minutes before an exam. This exam she will ace.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

It was just a usual day at Victrola. And because Chuck never was one to count down minutes to his encounters, he was most certainly not doing so now. But the news of Nate and Blair's break up and Blair initial texts did make him a bit hopeful as to what could happen tonight. Mostly because of this time there wouldn't be a hand at his throat. A nice change, that.

When Blair walked into Victrola, Chuck was both disappointed and impressed. Disappointed, because he hoped for more skin showing and impressed because even if the dress showed little, Blair still made it look sexy.

He smiled and walked up to Blair to welcome her. "You made it," he said with a smile.

Blair fought the urge to grin from ear to ear, instead tweaking him a small smile. This all felt too familiar.

Out of habit, she reached up to fix the collars of his shirt, using it as an excuse not to look into his eyes. She kept telling herself that he could not possible hear her drumming heartbeat, even if it was almost deafening to her own ears. She took a step closer, barely leaving any space between them. Even so, she knew that there was a whole chasm neither of them could ever cross. He made that absolutely clear.

Still, that did not mean she should stop playing her games. "You promised a room," she said, eyes lighting up with mischief.

He liked that look on her, though for everybody else it usually meant trouble. But for Chuck, it meant a challenge. And he rarely backed down from one. Especially if Blair was also involved.

"I did," he nodded with a smirk, enjoying the fact that he could feel her body so close to his. "And I've arranged for the room in the back. I hope it will meet your expectations."

He put his hand on her shoulder and let it travel sounth, taking her hand, so inconviniently wrapped in a glove. He raised her hand and kissed the silk covering her palm. "Shall we?"

He knew where all her buttons were. He could fluster her with a word, make her swoon with just a gaze, and wind her around his finger with a touch. If she could follow her own will then that would be according to his mercy. In his presence she was under his spell, and she loved it.

Whatever bare skin he touched left a trail of goosebumps, and she shivered while a smile bloomed on her face. Only Chuck Bass could kiss her gloved hand and make her feel like he was undressing her.

Still Blair refused to let it show, if only for the sake of keeping his interest. She refused to be just another one of the ladies who groveled on his feet. She was Blair Waldorf for goodness sake. With a smirk, she proudly took away her hand, sending him a glance from the corner of her eyes before heading off to the private room he mentioned. "Bring me gin martini."

Chuck watched as Blair walked away and he no longer could hide a smile. This was getting more and more interesting.

He went to the bar and ordered gin martini, like she asked, and scotch for himself. He doubted that he wopuld be able to finish his drink, if things went like he hoped, but he wanted to make a point of being casual about this evening.

Holding their drinks, he joined Blair in the private room.

As soon as she entered the room, Blair headed for the mirror on the wall, checking her make up and her hair even if she had only just done that before she entered Victrola. Her nerves were seriously killing her. Her heart was not racing this fast when she waited for an interview with Dean Barrube, or when she waited on the wings before her part in the Age of Innocence. This was a role much too difficult for her, but it was of the sort that would win her an Oscar, or a lover, or lose her a lover. She realized she did not really know why she was here.

Once satisfied with her appearance, she took a seat on one of the plush velvet seats. She crossed her legs and folded her hands to keep from twiddling her fingers, and waited. What was it again that she planned to do? What was it that she meant to say?

It felt like she was Grace Kelly in one of Hitchcock's movies, only she was not blonde and she was no femme fatale. She felt like she was an understudy who had forgotten to learn her lines, and now she had to perform and she had no idea how.