Cloaked by a hooded black robe, Amora Huntington heads silently through the dead streets of New York City to the back entrance of a popular strip club. As she makes her way through the door, a swirl of amaranth-colored smoke surrounds her alluring figure, fading away to reveal a black corset, thigh high heels and thong to replace the black robe. Entering the club no one questioned her arrival, assuming she was another one of the dancers. With an apathetic gleam in her pale blue eyes, the sorceress spreads apart the curtains leading onto the stage.
A burst of shouts and hollers greet her as she walks slowly and sensually toward the metal pole positioned at the end of the long stage. She flashes a few of the men tantalizing smirks, but seems intent on keeping the focus of the man sitting directly in front of the pole. Dressed in a three-piece tailored Armani suit, he had moderate stubble on a face that placed him at mid-thirties with an athletic physique. He showed no immediate desire for her, unlike the men around him who had begun to pull the cash out of their wallets. Gripping the pole tightly, Amora circles it slowly before bringing her legs above her and wrapping them around tightly. Arching her back she reaches back up and above her legs to position herself high enough to spiral back down, her long blonde hair flying. Once again planted on the stage, she locks eyes with the still expressionless man sitting in front of her. Without moving her gaze her fingers reach to loosen the ties of her corset, string by string until she needed to hold it from falling off. With one last amorous glance at the man in front of her, she spotted the subtlest upward curve on the corner of his lips before he stood and left for one of the club's private room. With a mischievously accomplished smirk, Amora re-tightened her corset and walked with swaying hips back across the stage and behind the curtains. From backstage she paced to the private room where the man had headed, teasing her hair slightly before sliding behind the smaller set of curtains and into the room.
He sat arrogantly on the circular couch that surrounded a single table where another silver pole was standing, a drink held causally in one hand. Closing the curtains behind her she walked slowly toward him, placing a leg on either side of his body and breathing against his neck. Placing her lips against his skin she could feel his mouth stretch into a smile as well as the tension in his body evaporating. His head turned in an attempt to find her lips, which they did as his hand simultaneously gripped her thigh firmly with his available hand. With much struggle and a few deep breaths he managed to pull his lips off of hers momentarily.
"You're not the NYC dancer type," he started with a smirk, taking a sip of his drink, "so what's a goddess of a woman like you doing in a place like this?" he asked. Without leaving his lap, Amora leaned back to meet his steel-grey eyes.
"And you're not the type of man who would need to come to a place like this, so I could ask you the same question," she said in a teasing tone. Standing up the same smoke surrounded her once more, this time leaving her in a white silk robe. With her back turned to the man she grabbed the majority of her hair and tied it in a loose bun, exposing the nape of her neck. "But, I don't have to, because I know you're Jason Beckham, son of Australian Prime Minister Jonathan Beckham."
His eyebrows rose in amusement, but his cold grey eyes remained unreadable. "You caught me," he said, throwing his hands up with playful drama, “I enjoy an escape to indulge in some American entertainment every once and a while,” he said leaning back with a smile. "Now it's my turn to ask a question. What do you want with me, Amora Huntington?" Despite showing no display of surprise on her face, Jason knew she hadn't expected him to know her identity. “Come on, I’m the Prime Minister’s son, you really didn't expect me to have heard of you?” he asked cockily, placing his hands in his lap. “But really, why go through all this trouble just to talk to me?”
Taking a seat on a different corner of the couch she positioned her body to face him, crossing her legs elegantly and allowing her robe to expose more of her lean, toned legs. “I have a question for you, about your father,” she said seriously, all seductive playfulness absent from her mannerisms.
“Doesn't everybody?” he retorted, playing along in her game of coolness as he transitioned to a more formal position, "what makes you think you’re getting an answer?”
“Because I can guarantee you haven’t been asked my question before. What do you know about an affair your father had twenty-five years ago?” she asked bluntly, but staying cool. This time it was her turn to catch him off guard; however he was equally skilled at preventing it from showing. She waited for a response, expecting him to deny any sort of action.
“I was seven when it happened,” he sighed, dropping his head to stare at the ground. “No one else in my family knew, but I was always close with my dad, and even from a young age I knew something was going on. It lasted for a while, the affair, before all of a sudden the signs of another woman disappeared. He had never done something like that, he loved my mom and was really focused on starting his political career, so I never said anything,” he finished. It was clear that he had never told anyone of this before, and every word had been a weight off his chest. Looking back up, his eyes gazed directly into hers, but deeper than before. “Look, I have no idea why I’m telling you this, but I like you. So, Amora, the least you can do is let me know how you knew, and why you came here to ask me about it.”
She stared back into his eyes for what seemed like much longer than it was before slowly standing and removing her robe to reveal a pale pink bra and garter thong with diamond embellishing. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she stepped toward him, straddling his lap once more. Her ice blue eyes remained unreadable, but had become much softer than before as she ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. His mouth opened in an attempt to repeat his question, but failed to get it out before she leaned in to brush her lips against his ear with a subtle shhh. “You’ll find out everything Jason, but not now,” she whispered, her lips moving back down to his neck. Without any protest, Amora continued to kiss his neck before moving to his lips, the couple’s breathing growing increasingly rapid until both their clothes were on a pile on the club’s floor.