World's best birthday present

[Guest]

Happy birthday Blas. It was a bit early, but the boy couldn't complain. The best in the world sat in his sweaty palms. he could barely contain himself with a childish gleam on his cheeks. He had to bite his lower lip simply to contain himself. Of course, outwardly he kept himself under control and cool, a calm joke made about it. It had been asked to be given back if he didn't like it and he nearly lost image with the shout of a 'NO!' He then proceeded to laugh and smooth it over with a 'it's a present, I don't return presents'. Mentally he swam in a see of hyper excitement.

Staring in the mirror for what seemed like an hour, he worked on his hair, making sure each was in place. Checking his teeth for anything, then messing up his hair again, liking it better as a bit fluffier. He fixed his collar by popping it, then folding it back down. Smooth out any creases, then around his neck went went the soft blue scarf. Though it looked a bit old, it's actual age was far older than the appearance. A flip of his cuffs, made them frame his wrists almost uncomfortably. Oh well, he really had no one to impress. Not truly anyways. It wasn't like he was ACTUALLY going to see HER. As much as he wished, it was simply a ticket to see the beautiful display she would be showing. A fashion show meant her in lots of different pictures.

Pause.. perverted thought. He shook it off briskly, covering his slightly red face. He was a man, it was only natural, right? His excitement settled a bit and the red drained. Next he was smoothing out his pants, the dark blue jeans. Of course by then, he decided that the top was too much and stripped it off. Grabbing his black top with the sleeves cut of, he quickly slid it over his body and placed the scarf carefully over top. Dog-tags dripped from his neck, beneath and he stepped back. Yes, that looked much better!

Approving of his new outfit, he would slip into his black sandals and walk out of the house. His left hand clenched tightly to his present. A gift from Gods it was. How he blessed the soul of Sadro, whom gone out of his way to get it for him. He owed the man an amazing birthday present now, when he could sneak it past his great uncle, that was. Oddly, he was sweating more, as if this were his first date. Hopefully it would end better. Last time, he had been kicked in the stomach. Some woman sure were violent and he was greatly displeased. Of course before he could apologize, she had fled. He felt horrible for whatever it was he had done, which he STILL didn't know about. His spacing pleased the boy, as he reached the area where the event was starting. Of course, his obsessive messing with his clothes had made him late, so he had to sidle in the back of a line with the weird looking and somewhat obese men and women who hadn't fought their way up front yet. A full out war would probably take place, but Blas was tall enough, he could watch with eager eyes.

His ticket was handed over and he found a seat, by using his rather charming smile. Usually he didn't do such things, but this was a special event. The lady at the booth had given him a funny look, but again, Blas was unaffected. If she was wondering why he was there, it wasn't her business! Shifting in the uncomfortable seat, he found his eyes scouring the area for any sight of the woman. A first glimpse? Unlikely, she was likely getting ready, but he could hope so! Fanboy under control, he simply cleared his voice and looked on with a smile that couldn't be held back, no matter how hard he had tried. Simply overjoyed, it was bound to break him apart if he restrained it. A dam could not hold a waterfall. This situation was one as such.

The audience shushed and the ominous feeling of the start had clutched them. Each voice died down to the soft whisper. An introduction some sort of joke that made Blas groan. Impatience was as much a trait as patience. Today it shone through his blue eyes. At last the catwalk. Curtains moved and of course, the ladies took their turns, however the others seemed nothing to him. His idol had her first walk and his heart nearly stopped. She was there! In her living flesh and blood! A momentary hiccup escaped his mouth while containing an un-manly giddiness. Keep it cool. Calm down, Blas. He spoke to himself, simply taking in all. He wasn't her only fan, of course, but at that moment he could care less about the others there. He cheered, but in a failing indiscreet way. Of course, he didn't notice it in his little land. Oh right, clap. He found himself soon back in his seat and clapping.

The man beside him gave a disapproving look. Well damn. That went wrong. Realization swept over him. An outburst as such made him look like a complete doofus. Surely everyone in the area thought he was some creepy stalker now. Gloom. Second guessing began. How was he supposed to sit through the rest of the show if he couldn't control his jovial feelings? It was a conundrum, but he would make himself stay in line if it killed him.

During the rest of the show, Blas sat, looking as if in pain and concentrated. In his chair, a man glaring at almost all the people and grimacing when Tanda went up. She was beautiful, it was hard.. so hard. His legs crossed and he sighed casually and tried to prison the overwhelming emotions that flooded over his body. When the show was over, he glanced at her retreating and bit his lip desperately. Well, he already looked stupid, time to make it worse by apologizing!

It took a lot of effort to get past the man beside him, who still looked at Blas as if he were some sort of sex offender. Haha funny thought, virgin Blas assaulting famous model Tanandra Collier. Yes, he could see it spread in the news, that would surely get him in a lot of trouble with his great uncle. Blas had good control over that side of himself though, so he didn't look twice at the nosy individual. Instead, Blas focused on getting to the table with water. He needed some too, from sweating so much. He felt more fluid on his body than a normal exercise. How gross that felt. After grabbing a napkin, he wiped his face and then reached for a cup, to look up. There she was.. in all her glory.

Two shades of red colored him and he froze. Eyes wide and tongue tied. His triumph ideals shattered and capability of speech were all out the window. As she walked and soon reached the table, Blas gave a sort of goofy smile. He was not really good at talking to pretty women, but he pictured the weird man looking at him as a pedophile and he calmed down a bit, "A-Ah! H-H-Hello, princess! U-Uh.. B-beautiful,as.. as always." YEAH MANLINESS! Way to lay it on, Casanova. Instantly he regretted even speaking. His words barely above a stammer of nervousness, while he dropped his own water.. onto himself. Not that it was planned or anything. His wet palms simply lost grip. Okay. On the bright side, she probably didn't hear you. If that's the case, you can pass off momentary insanity and say you were talking to an imaginary friend! Damn, where was Sebastian when he was needed?

[Lust]

Fashion shows were such strange things, so far-removed from the real world, and yet, the pinnacle of fashion and haute couture. The outrageous styles that were so completely over-the top at some shows, not meant to actually be worn by anyone, but admired as the purely physical incarnations of artistic genius. This show wasn't too bad, though; most of the dresses were at least wearable and not just a statement piece. Music with a beat definitely made for dancing too pumped through the amps, lean, long-legged beauties strutting down the catwalk one by one. Mostly expressionless faces painted with bold makeup and perfectly pumped lips that complimented each outfit. Powerful, confident stides took each woman down the catwalk to the T where they turned, posed, turned again to hit the other side before walking back. It was like a relay race among the world's most beautiful wearing the world's most impressive.

But fashion shows weren't just to showcase the glories of the designers and the tangible dreams they made; no, they were just as much about the delicious designs as they were the delicate frames the dreams were draped over. The runway models at top shows like these were the elite few- living gems that shined with an unearthly brilliance as each outfit changed. Deep rouge lips pressed together, pulling upward in the most satisfied of smiles as her turn was approaching. Tanandra could do this in her sleep, and she knew she was a queen on the catwalk. This had been her home, her love, and her master for years, long before she'd started in her movies. The exquisite sin loved the films she starred in and wouldn't give them up, never- but this was home. This... this was second nature, like breathing, or sex. Deep, and instinctive.

The stark white fabric clung to Tanandra's deep olive body, standing out brightly against her and the shimmering green curls that trickled down her back in raised waves. Crimson heels strutted in time with the half-beats, the matching, blood-red frill of the mermaid gown bursting around Tanda's feet and trailing behind her in a short train as the rest of it moved up to her knees, suddenly narrowing. The two fabrics were entirely different in every way and ensured that every photo taken would be good from any angle. Some dresses were just that good. And as she walked off the platform to behind the stage, Tanandra Collier was more than pleased, actually smiling rather graciously as she congratulated the other models on a fine job. She meant it, too, not a hint of cattiness in her voice. Tanandra was many things and took her work very seriously. She knew she sparkled, and expected those she worked with to sparkle as well, and for a change, the model was not diappointed.

There was more to a good show than just showing the outfits on stage, however. Bottles of fine champagne and gifts were waiting for some of the models in the dressing room, but now was not the time to enjoy them. Now was the time to go out into the party and mingle, showing some of the more functioning outfits up close and in person. This was the magic hour! This was when a model kissed old contacts and met new ones, smiled and was social in the most upscale kind of soiree. After all, anyone who had tickets to come to this show who wasn't a designer, photographer or fashion reporter was someone who already was someone, someone who knew someone, or someone who was on the rise to becoming someone. Because remember darlings, it's not who you are, it's who you know. Makeup touched up, fresh perfume spritzed and smiiiiile~ Oh, this was what she LIVED for! Arms embraced lightly, everyone knowing not to touch the gown as air-kisses were exchanged. This place was packed, and there was a sea of people between Tanandra and the table at the wall of the room that held some of the refreshments. Sure, hors d'oeuvres were being served by staff, but right now? All the model wanted was a drink and a quick second to catch her breath.

The thrill of the crowd would never cease to make her heart race. This... This was where she belonged. Never that dusty old village- never again! Never just the babay in a family too large to support itself, Tanandra the example of the self-made woman. It had come with heavy costs at every turn, but it was a price Tanandra was more than willing to pay, a hundred times over if she had to. Anything to keep her here in the only setting she would ever consider home again. Delicate fingers wrapped around the small cup of water as she lifted it to drink, lipstick not budging from her painted lips, the brand too good to come off just from that alone. Champagne was beautiful to drink, but sometimes nothing satisfied like water. That, and it was always friendly to a model's figure. "A-Ah! H-H-Hello, princess!" Golden eyes blinked. There weren't any other models near to her. Tanandra's gaze fell on the young man in the blue scarf near to her. "U-Uh.. B-beautiful,as.. as always." He seemed... nervous as hell. Wasn't like she was going to bite him... she didn't know where he'd been.

Tanandra smiled, about to thank the young man for them (stammering, terrified, shy and rather adorable) compliment when his own cup of water escaped its holder and made its way down part of his shirt. At a lesser party and from a lesser model, teasing or chastising the boy might have come into play; Tanandra was not so foolish. She knew that at events like this, even if you met a guest who didn't quite seem to blend in so smoothly, that didn't mean they weren't one of the three categories. No camera on his shoulder or press badge on his jacket, and this wasn't something just anyone could get tickets to. He was one of those three, and possibly related to someone influencial. She said nothing, reaching over to gently pluck a napkin from the table and hold it out for the boy. "Thank you very much. I'm very pleased you enjoyed the show," Tanandra purred smoothly, her eyes focusing on Blas more than the damp patch of fabric on his shirt. "Are you enjoying the party?" Success was built on smiles and smalltalk; two things that, thankfully, Tanandra was more than skilled with.

[Guest]

Panic struck deep in his veins. Thicker than blood as he cursed himself. Over and over he swore at himself in his mind, while his eyes remained focused on picking up his litter. He was so stupid! How come he couldn't be like Sebastian, who seemed to have it easy with women. Then again, Sebastian was a bagman.. whatever that was. He said it was kidnapping, but what was he kidnapping? Or rather, who? Sebastian seemed always around, until Blas ultimately needed him and then he vanished on work calls. On the other hand, he wouldn't have asked Seb to come along with him on this little espionage anyways. Likely his friend would have made fun of the boy's poor people skills. Oh well, what was done was done.

He braced himself to be hit with security or smacked, or having his arm snapped. A grimace sat on his face, while he pulled up to his feet and awaited some sort of pain to erupt, but instead, he heard the voice of an angel. "Thank you very much. I'm very pleased you enjoyed the show," Her voice was just as amazing outside of acting as he could imagine. For a moment, his heart stopped and the world was frozen. Beauty in the very definition of it, standing before him in a dress that only made her look no less than a goddess that blessed the earth. Something that was supernatural, not belonging on this horrid ground that looked like a child's drawing beneath a painting done by Michelangelo. A simple breath on a frozen day, that left all other air in the dust.

Everything else was invisible and for that frozen second of his mind, he couldn't help but forget where he even was. Incredibly dumbfounded, his face turned a deep scarlet. At last, the breath he was holding slipped out and his chest fell as he gave a large smile. He beamed with happiness, flattery and simple enthusiasm that this woman he had only dreamt of spoke to him! She saw he even existed AND she hadn't treated him like some sort of creep like how he felt at times. His heart was beating loudly in his head, deafening him partially. The world was commencing again and her perfect lips had spoken a question onto him. "Are you enjoying the party?"

At first, he could only manage a nod. So many words rushed, what to respond? He felt all aflutter, his heart untamed by the cavity which held it. Closed from joy, his eyes simply spilled all his secrets once they re-opened. A glee in his very being, yet he was keeping control better than he could imagine. Of course, blood flow was a bit irregular, but a swift shifting, indiscreet as the shift of body weight controlled that in a form of hiding. That would do for now, but his mind was capable of ignoring the brief pain and focus solely on his idol.

"O-Of course! You are God-sent! W-Why would I n-not enjoy a show with such a marvelous woman attending?" He stated quickly and a bit more confident, if only from the fact he was still swooning from the woman's overall existing. He felt a bit awkward at his own words. Did that sound a bit creepy? He hoped not. He was simply being sincere! "U-Uhm. Thank you." His voice spoke of the offering. Then, his hand hesitantly took the napkin and he pressed it to his body. Luckily he wasn't one of the rather odd people that kept trash as a memory, his hands moved to soak up the liquid it could, before he tossed it away. A memory like this didn't need a souvenir... well, maybe an autograph. However a wet napkin was not good for keeping a signature.

His eyes moved up to take her in again. Such elegance, beauty, everything! Again his heart took control and he spoke in a similar nervous shyness, "A-ah. Wh-what about you, Princess?" Pausing, he took a calming breath and tried again. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

[Lust]

There was a certain shy charm to the y oung man. For all his outward shyness and awkward stuttering, he was making a legitimate effort to converse with her. Over the years Tanandra had met many fans, and each had their own little quirks, but most fell into a few specific categories. There was the picture-fiend, the memento-hoarder, the chatterbox, the old-buddy-old-pal, the shy-type, the blogger... Honestly, Tanandra almost preferred the shy-type. There were others in that list, but unless you were someone who met celebrities a lot, she found a lot of fans just found it hard to talk naturally to her. She appreciated their awe, she did, but it was hard to do events that relied on chatting with her fans if they couldn't chat back. This one at least could start up on his own, which was a plus. And he called her Princess? Extra points for that.

"O-Of course! You are God-sent! W-Why would I n-not enjoy a show with such a marvelous woman attending?" He seemed shy about talking to her directly, but at least he was trying and not doing too badly, and the fact that he didn't cram the moist napkin into his pocket was a plus. Tanandra wondered if he was like this talking to everyone, just women, or just her, but that was something people could only learn over time through observation. She smiled, taking a sip of her water, more than thankful for its coldness. Esparian nights were warm, and even though this party was indoors and had air conditioning, the sheer amount of people and the lights from the runway nearly negated their relative usefulness. Even this dress, while amazing to behold and hugging every curve of Tanandra's body in a closeness that rivaled dew on flowers, was more than a little hot and rather heavy toward the bottom where it bloomed out like a bloody flower.

Tanandra chuckled softly, deep red lips pulled into the gentle curve of a more private-looking smile. She was enjoying herself well enough; after all, she was the fashion show's headlner that was bringing extra crowds tonight. She always enjoyed herself at these little soirees, but lately there was a feeling that was gnawing on the model that she couldn't quite place. An emptiness that these parties didn't fill the way they used to, which led the actress to begin to question if she was alredy bored with the bedazzlement of the bright lights she'd pined for in her youth and fought for as an adult. But that was neither here nor there; right now there was a shy young fan who was all-too-happy to meet the supermodel. "That is very kind of you," she purred gently.

One arm delicately folded across her midsection, lightly grasping her elbow. Body language was a funny thing. She could read when people were interested in her, and what her onw outward signals meant. Both arms were loose and not tight over her chest, so her heart was open but slightly guarded. Or, the move could also have been interpreted as closing her arms slightly in order to press her breasts a little closer together for a delicious and very subtle smooshing effect. Really, it was subject to interpretation. "A-ah. Wh-what about you, Princess? Are you enjoying yourself?" Tanda took another delicate sip, her eyes moving up slowly to catch Blas' as she spoke.

"I am, thank you. I would say that tonight's show was an incredible success." Even though she'd been born in Esparia and lived there most of her life, the fact that her family had all been Rouenian immigrants was still very evident in Tanandra's voice. The accent mingled and danced, perfect in tone, but still with a disdinctly foreign flavour to it. "It is nice to take a break from filming to do a few shows this season, especially with so many good designs this year. Are you a fan of fashion, monsiuer--" She paused, hoping for the youngman to give his name and introduce himself. He was a very nicely dressed young man. Good looking, tall, nice shoulders, great face.... He might have been an aspiring model with a face like that.

[Guest]

"That is very kind of you," her voice of an angel. His heart stopped a moment and red began it's slow arousal upon his face. Blue eyes dancing with admiration, lungs not functioning right. His chest felt tight and contained the dancing heart if only barely. His idol, flesh, blood and voice. Delicate words, such a sweet meaning in them. His heart couldn't stick to whether beating fast or stopping. Such tension that flooded him he could barely breathe, pure luck let him talk. However, this time he only managed what was equal of a grunt. How embarrassing to touch the cloudline of his dreams. There were so many more, but this one, was realistic. Before her stood the perfect woman. A compliment. it made him dizzy.

For a moment, he thought he would pass out. However, un-manliness would surely end the night on a sour note. If he were to take a chance to leave an impression, fainting was not the answer. He wanted to seem smooth, like he knew what he was doing, but with a heart-rate that couldn't hold a steady pace other than stop, go and GO, he was only dreaming. "I am, thank you. I would say that tonight's show was an incredible success." Thank you?! he'd rarely heard that from average every day people. It was almost as if she were trying to make him explode. So much heat coursed through his body, he could barely contain it. Every part of him had a mind of its own with so many flooding thoughts. Not a single thread of words made sense in the river brain of his.

Her body had shifted and it was only after she had thanked him, that Blas noticed. A hard swallow with eyes glancing. Immediately he regretted it, but he couldn't help but stare.. if even a little. Brain meltdown. All logical thoughts were out of the window and his whole train of thought crashed through a few buildings of morals. Impure thoughts such as just reaching out and... His face turned redder and he shifted once again, fixing his shirt to try and distract himself.. from himself. Blue eyes closed off a moment as if closing off her body would ease his mind, but when he opened them, she was still there. It was a curse and a blessing. Such beauty was not made for him to behold and now he was hurting because of it.

"It is nice to take a break from filming to do a few shows this season, especially with so many good designs this year. Are you a fan of fashion, monsiuer--" He tried to clench his eyes shut and mentally smacked himself. It was obvious he had looked, there was no doubt and there was NO way for him to hide such obvious leering. Oh dear.. Miss Collier would hate him now. Well on one hand the little angel in him was glad to have spent a fleeting moment with her, the little devil was glad to see boobs. Which won his mental fight was still at war on what was right and wrong. Should he feel bad for looking? Sure. That didn't mean it stopped him from doing it. It all came down to the fact he was human and if she found it disgusting then he shouldn't torture him (okay maybe a little torture was okay).

At last his brain was switched back on and he rubbed the back of his head. Nervousness echoed in the movement as he tried to smooth out the awkward feeling of 'Yeah I just blatantly checked you out'. A voice spoke softly, telling him at least he hadn't assaulted her like some fans probably did. With his left hand to his head, his right covered his mouth a moment. A cough later and he took a bow. One hand directly at his side, the other gently cupping his stomach. He bowed forward, bending until his dark hair fell in his face. His eyes could see nothing but the ground and then he brought himself back up. the arm over his stomach moved to his side. "My name is Blas Há." He spoke sweetly, no malice, no obsession.

As he smiled brightly at her, he continued to speak. "I adore fashion. In fact-" he stopped himself. Such a secret to be spilled? No! He wouldn't allow it. "Ermm.. I mean I keep up on all your magazines. I-I've adored you a long time," he said as his face reddened more. Eyes cast away shyly and he scratched his right cheek. "I mean.. you-you've been a really big inspiration!" URGG Why did he sound like he was such an avid fanboy?! OH! right.. because he WAS. It was hard to hide anything in the eyes of a goddess. As if he were naked and- He stopped that thought quickly.

[Csilla Angelis]

{BUMP}

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