[NSFW] A Typical Day [Closed][OOC comments welcome and encouraged]]

[OttoVann]

[i've never done this before, please be gentle. Please I encourage all feedback good and bad as well. I know I have had some public feedback thats positive, but privately some negative but deeply constructive feedback. I welcome all help]

 

[This story takes place months ago by the way IC]

 

It always starts off the same. Every morning like clockwork, always gentle at first as I lie on my bed, hungover, exhausted, and never satisfied.

 

Ridley Silverlake, my secretary and closest confidant. She is always standing over me on the bed in her usual attire. She wears a Light Steel Galerus, little more than an bra made from light-steel, custom fit to her modest chest. Her petite teenage frame is largely bare and exposed, a white Taffetta Loin Cloth with a ridiculous looking half-mini skirt is all that covers her loins and rear. Those leggings are tucked into her massive Heavy Darksteel Flanchards, colossal sized armor that she wears around the entirety of her legs. Its a sight to behold, a half naked teenager in your room with barely anything covering her assets and legs of steel resembling something a Magitek device would have. I've never understood why she gravitates towards wearing as little as possible minus her greaves, but its always a pleasant sight.

 

Luckily she spares me a slap with her gauntlets, always one to remove them before trying to awake me.

 

*slap*

 

Usually the first doesn’t wake me up, and today is no different.

 

*slap slap*

 

Now she has my attention as my mind begins to stir, immediately being flooded with messages on how sore I am, tired, and generally exhausted. In its hungover state it rarely filters all of this well, if at all. I immediately fade back to sleep. This will usually get her to put her hands on her hip and shake her head, before leaning over to harshly whisper “Sir, its time to get up” as she places a palm on my chest to push me into the bed and shake me. As usual, not so gentle slaps start to come…

 

*Slap*

 

This is about the time I typically respond, my mind hit with a deluge with a haze of pain and not really knowing where I am. I begin to stir for good, snorting in air as I open an eye, wincing at the fresh floods of pain this typically brings as it soaks in the light and start to slowly gain consciousness and roll over to the side of the bed. Luckily Ridley is quite used to seeing me in the full nude by now, as I sit up on the edge of the bed, with my elbows propped on my thighs, and my head buried in my hands as I hunch over. My head is usually swimming and my mouth dry as she always reaches over to pick up the glass of fresh water she has already set and prepared on my nightstand. She will always pass it to me as I silently drink it, keeping my head low to avoid the harsh lights of my chandelier as I silently recover, my bloodshot red-rimmed eyes straining to stay as closed as possible as Ridley moves into her next phase.

 

At this point in a typical morning, Ridley raises her voice to her teenaged shrill, clapping her hands together loudly as she makes no effort to not stomp around in my room with those bulky flanchards, intentionally being obnoxious to try and ‘wake the dead’ as last night’s party is awoken from there hungover state, bitching and whining about whatever it is they choose to do. Ridley always calls this ‘removing the wilted flowers’ as she drags these whores to life, sometimes literally dragging them out of my Free Company apartment. She usually has bags of gil on my desk waiting, pre-sorted and counted depending on the face and their price. However today, it was only two women, a pair of sisters I met at a bar and they aren’t into paid whoring, just flings, typical for the Miqo kind and its women. They also seem to have built up a slight resistance to the drugs I take, and are less inclined to give the dead fish routine as they are sternly jostled to the realm of the living and escorted out at Ridley’s behest.

 

She always hands them her ticket (business card), always saying “If you ever want to be with Lord Vann again, you speak to me. Never him. Here’s my ticket (business card). How this works is if you give me your name, and I mention it to him and he somehow remembers you, you get put onto his schedule that I maintain.” This rarely seems to sink in, as they sort of nod absent mindedly, shuffling out quietly with ruined makeup and hair. Before Ridley, me having to kick these women out myself was always a chore, sometimes they'd be clingy or want to do other stupid things like eat breakfast together or something.

 

[To be continued if feedback is positive]

[OttoVann]

By the time Ridley is done removing last night’s happenings from my room, I’m finally ready to pick myself up and stand fully, stretching with a full and quite lowd yell and groan as I stretchy my body fully, arms outstretched and reaching for the ceiling. Without fail, Ridley is always there, walking to me with my housecoat in hand. Never one to comment on how I look, she will simply quietly refill my glass of water, holding it in hand ready for me to accept as I put my arms in my robe’s sleeves and walk over to my desk, taking the glass as I head that way and sipping from it, eyes still squinted from my immense hangover. As I walk over to my desk, my hand at my temple as it still swims, she always tells me what I’m being served for breakfast. She’s gotten better at picking out what I like, and today is Dagger Soup. Just what I like at times like this.

 

No sooner do I sit down does Ridley launch into full secretarial mode. I never say a word, and simply focus my mind the best I know how as she unloads on me while I quietly enjoy my spoonfuls of soup, thankful that she knows the right people to make whatever she deems fit for me, and it always be safe and most importantly, well cooked. Holding her note block in one hand against her hip she doesn’t even look up to me while she starts going over everything she feels I need to hear and see and sign. She has a formula to it now, something we’ve quietly perfected over these last several weeks, going over things in such a way that I will most effectively remember them.

 

First, its always business paperwork. Over time I have grown to be so obscenely wealthy I don’t even bother accounting on my own expenditures anymore. The managers I’ve hired to run my stores are all personally vetted by me, half of them I sleep with and I’ve noticed a trend where this typically has their stores running a little better as they seem to think the more impressed I am with Ridley’s reports on their earnings, the higher they get on priority to spend time with me. They aren’t wrong. This is usually over pretty quickly, Ridley knows I don’t care anymore about any of this and sometime signs my name for me for the far less important paperwork, saving me valuable time and effort as I recoup from my hangover with my breakfast. Though today she does have some documentation I need to personally overlook and approve. Nothing too bad, I profited off of the days business, as usual. Apparently today I only profited about nine-hundred thousand gil. Lower than usual, but needless to say profit is profit. Who can even spend that much in a day except for me?

 

It would seem my attempts at aggressive expansion in Limsa are largely ineffective and I am at most breaking even. They’re requesting more capital from me, so I sign away and hand it back to Ridley and promptly get back to my soup, eager to drain this bowl so that I can stand and get dressed. One last thing Ridley slides onto my desk, stopping her words for a moment, is the all familiar seal of The Synidicate. I know what they want, money. They’re not wrong to ask, they’ve helped me get to where I am today in their own small way. Soon enough I’ll be dealing with the lesser in that organization and firmly resting my feet on their backs – but for now I will pay. They don’t ask for much anyways. A scant five million gil a month. Anyone can afford that. A quick and intentionally lazy signature and that's that for business dealings of the day.

 

People always ask why they never see me work too hard, what you just saw was a majority of the 'hard' work I do still perform.

 

The second thing Ridley always wants to review with me are the names of those who want to get in touch with me over business proposals or handouts. I’ve gotten a bit numb to it all, and generally ignore all of these requests, trashing them. I don’t care if someone can propose to me a way to save upwards of twenty-percent on my cost to acquire Rubies for my needs. Never. I will deal with my businesses, myself. I am not going to let third parties intervene and bog me down. I don’t want partners, and I don’t want to share. This is my Empire to run and maintain and I won’t be carving out Lordships to others for ‘benefit’. I don't give a damn about maximizing profit, the people that supplied me in the beginning are all I will ever need. I also have grown weary of constantly having organizations come to me to ask for handouts when we all know most of them are eternally useless and never ran well. I prefer my benefaction to be private and personal.

 

[To be continued...]

[Warren Castille]

(I like seeing how the Other Side lives, so the speak. Otto's morning routine is pretty unique amongst roleplayers here, and your line about five million gil is a perfect summation of the gap between Those With in Ul'dah and Those Without.

 

Proceed.)

[OttoVann]

Third on the docket is something that is briefly discussed. Drugs. Ridley usually points to a silk-lined leather bag sitting on my scale, pre-measured by her from my suppliers and balanced to the amount I’ll need for the day. This is something she firmly doesn’t enjoy, but does it out of the intense loyalty she feels to me. That and I pay her more money than most nobles spend in a month, every week. If you pay with peanuts you get monkeys as they say. She mumbles the cost and I simply don’t care to listen, though my mouth waters a bit at the thought of whats in the big. Something I’ve gotten accustomed to is never caring about the price tag of anything anymore. As long as it keeps me amped and ready to take the day on to its fullest, I don't ever care.

 

By this point in my morning I’m usually satisfied with breakfast, sometimes I finish it sometimes I don’t. Today I drained my bowl mostly empty and this is when I really start to wake up. With a yawn I sit back into my chair, relaxing into it and slouching a little as I cross one bare leg over the other and continue to yawn, a closed fist over my mouth to stifle the silent outburst. She keeps droning on so I guess this must mean I have either names to review to see if she will start to try to pencil them in OR ‘appointments’ or word to describe sexual encounters with whoevers name is beside the time-slot she put down.

 

“Sir, do you remember these names?” she always asks in her calm and proud little voice, always trying to sound firm and in charge. So, that’s what she has next I think to myself, as I look to her with an amused look. Its usually fun trying to dredge the depths of the previous nights and figure if there's anything I can recollect. I wonder if I have any appointments after.

 

Today she reviews two names. Truthfully I didn’t forget them, but I also didn’t care to remember so I feign ignorance with a dismissive wave of the hand and those names are quick to be scratched by her without a second thought. Its not that they we’re unattractive, or poor at keeping a bed warm, but even I have shreds of modesty left and I simply see no need for more to constantly eat my and Ridley’s time away. Most importantly, I’m tired of Miqo, and have been on a bit of a binge for Hyur women. I’m not concerned with discarding two, there’s always more, always.

 

At this point I’m fully awake, my mind feels clear and crisp all things considered. Ridley understands that when I rise from my desk and start walking to my wardrobe to finish up with it. She tells me I have exactly one appointment today. Surprising, only one? No matter. I know it doesn’t really matter if I only have one, I’ve got one woman I’m finally going steady with, though she knows about the womanizing and endorses it fully. She’s got a bit of a Spartan side to her, letting me warm up on others until she shows up after the days errands to finish the deed. She needs no appointment and comes and goes as she pleases. Sometimes she takes to Ridley's schedules and picks names that I think she'd enjoy, and takes them for herself. Her name is Anna and one day I'm sure she will be introduced more thoroughly. All I can say for now, is that she is a true and proper Highland woman in all things. There's something about a woman that can almost match you in raw strength and lust - hard to find and harder to keep. I'm a lucky man sometimes.

 

I slide my robe off and let it hit the floor as I open my wardrobe – Ridley true to form never cares seeing all of me. I push my suits across the racks, pulling out different pieces and showing them to her, mock hanging them over my body to get a reaction from Ridley. This is where she always shrugs and always tells me “I don’t get paid for that. I barely dress myself, look at me! I wear next to nothing over my body anyways.” Well she always has a point, but I always make it a point to include her whenever I can. She’s one of the few souls I trust implicitly, I have a feeling she’d work for free if I ‘forgot’ to pay her. What makes it more intriguing, is I’ve never slept with the girl. I never will either. Her loyalty is unending and I’ve done little to foster it other than take her in and give her a purpose after her previous ‘Master’ threw her out. In fact, I know scant little about Ridley’s sexual life. I know she prefers women, probably almost exclusively if she never reacts to my being in the nude. I don’t judge that though, how could I when I only prefer women myself?

 

[To be continued...]

[Berrod Armstrong]

((This perspective is refreshing and unique. I enjoy it! Great work!))

[OttoVann]

Today, lost most days, I picked my signature suit after giving the other colors and designs real thought. Pink with red accents and pinstriped pants. Admittedly it’s not a 100% symmetrical pattern or color palette, but I’m a right sucker for pastels and deep reds. When men of my wealth and political magnitude show up to events in gaudy colors, bucking trends and ignoring the standard order of fashion, its usually a firm message for those that can read it.

 

Ridley, always one to be a yes-woman over the little things, simply nods in approval and stands at half attention, knowing she’s debriefed me fully on the day. However, as always, she’s quick to remind not even minutes later “Don’t forget your one appointment today, its at nine with Lucy.” Well I suppose I can’t blame her for reminding me before I’ve had a chance to finish a thought with my hungover addled mind, sometimes people do get stood up by me, such is the way of things when you have a tight schedule to maintain, with some women above that coming and going as they please, my favorites if you could call them that. Lucy though, well if I have Ridley going to Falcon to put her down on my schedule for tonight, I know it’s going to be a long and very pleasing one. That’s a real pro at her work, classy in her own way. I’d smile my typical small smile, but no one would see it under the beard anyways.

 

Bath time, finally. I hate sleeping, I hate not enjoying all of my time, but taking a bath is something I can always do. When I was romantic Kerwin they would say I was addicted to the water, and she wasn’t wrong. Ridley quick to set my oil burner with fresh Lavender, finally stands in front of me as she usually does putting her beret back on ready to leave. Its about time for her to tend to her own personal schedule. She came to me in private just yesterday, sheepishly asking me if she could spend time with one of my favorites in a more ‘personal’ way. Hard for me to turn her down, I knew Keru would say yes if I mentioned Ridley had an eye for her. I can only imagine the fun those two are planning on having once she leaves me to my bath. I said earlier I know scant little about Ridley’s bedroom life, but the right people have told me after a time with her that she’s one of the best. My little unassuming Ridley, a master of the bedroom – who knew.

 

She gives me her typical salute asking me if I need anything else, and that if anything comes up I know where to find her. With that she spins on that heel, her greaves stomping a bit as she marches out in those massive leggings she loves so much. I waste no time relaxing down into the water, sitting off the bench and instead in the middle of the tub, slouching low so that my nose barely sits over the surface of the water – letting the heat fully seep into my body. I just love burning Lavender oil, it has a way of making the hungover cloud in your mind dissipate better than any drug I’ve taken from the local alchemists to clear my head. Truth be told I sometimes sleep in my tub, for up to an hour it would seem. Easy to let time slip when you no longer have to work hard due to want.

 

I wonder if I should send Jancis a mogmail invitation to lunch with her again sometime. She’s a smart woman who likes to hide it, and I could use her for personal advising of sorts in my personal matters. She has a way of listening to me rant, almost like confession, however I am deeply cautious about leaning on her or anyone for too much. It would be too easy for someone to see me interact with Jancis too much in public and assume she's one of my girls or that we are romantic of sorts and kidnap her for details about me or The Syndicate. The Syndicate has a way to force a bit of isolation on those that aren't completely soul-less and heartless and look to only use people until they expire.

 

 

I’ll get to that after I awake from this tub though...

 

 

[To be continued...??]

 

[i need advice from here, I dont know if I did well throughout all of it]

[Lucy Honeypot]

Otto <3 I may remember this night actually ;D

Very good, I love how much detail there is! It paints the setting really well!

[DoomsdayClock]

This is all very awesome. Ul'dah needs the existence of Otto Vann. I fully endorse this.

[Salinas]

Ah~ I finally finished reading what you have so far! Everything is all good. Actually, one of the more pleasant things I've read all week. I do enjoy getting a peek into the personal mind and lives of another character.

 

Quite refreshing and adds a lot more depth to Otto's character. 。(⌒∇⌒。) He's got more than what I perceived him to be. (Then again.. Caelia and him have only had one encounter so far.) Looking forward to more posts from Otto! Gotta peel all them layers of this fashionable man. Pfft.

[OttoVann]

When I am sleeping in the hot-tub in my room, I rarely sleep deeply. Today is no different and after mildly falling in and out of consciousness for an hour I finally snap to it for good and stand. I usually place my hands on my hips and look down into the water as I stand there for a minute or so to let my upper half dry out a bit, my eyes closed as I breathe slowly, but heavily. One of the nicer things about my morning routine is how regimented it has become. I always know that as soon as I step down and out of the tub, Ridley has a towel hanging on a hook within reach of my right hand.

 

I dry off like I usually would, standing on the fine fur rugs I created myself. They're always so comfortable feeling on bare feet. I would typically walk over to my desk with my towel hung around my neck and resting on my shoulders and begin to look over any documentation Ridley leaves on my desk she deemed important enough for me to consider reading, but not important enough to bother me with during breakfast. This morning, like most mornings, all of it gets trashed. I sit down at my desk, look it over briefly, notice none of it seems particularly relevant or personal and place it in my waste bin at the foot of my desk without a second thought.

 

I sit at my desk now, totally awake and in full form, rapping my fingers across my desk as I notice the distinct lack of a hard knock. I must have removed my rings last night when getting home which I usually do and slide out the typical drawer they would be in, finding them and putting them on. I have a particular weakness for rubies and love wearing a pair of ruby rings made from the finest rose gold and native gold you can come across. I love the effect copper has when you mix it in with gold, giving it that rose-red hue. Of course I made my own rings, no one else can match my technical expertise with precious metals. I return to rapping my fingers across my desk for a moment, now more clearly thinking as my eyes light up and I stop - turning my attention to my scale and the bag left on it.

 

I immediately reach my left hand to my scale, yanking the bag from it as my right hand fishes in my drawer for my pestle and mortar. I immediately turn the bag over to dump its contents into my stoneware and start the crushing and churning process - my blows into the bowl with purpose and practiced precision. Once I get it ground down to a powder like quality, I take a spoonful and turn it over in my mouth, dropping it on my tongue as I wash it down with the always present glass of water Ridley leaves for me at the base of my scale. In its final form the drug is called 'moon sugar' or something to that effect. I don't particularly care for its immense bitter flavor, but its one hell of a drug that can sharpen even the slackest of minds into a real focus and give enough energy for five men.

 

After I swallow my bitter 'medicine' I usually cough once, wincing noticeably at how awful it tastes. I've gotten used to it though and almost look forward to the disgusting flavor each morning since I know what comes after. I simply lean back into my desk-chair, laying my head back across the top of it as I look up at the ceiling briefly before I wrap my wet towel that's resting on my shoulders across my face lightly to block out light and typically pass out for a few minutes. The muffled sound of running watera,the ticks gold inlaid clock I made that sits atop my desk, along with the warm feeling my face gets from being covered is deeply relaxing. I sleep in my chair, fully nude, with a wet towel across my face - a sight to behold which is why Ridley locks the door behind her when she leave so none of my Free Company members can intrude on my little ritual. The last thing I need is for the world to see me like this drugged up and out of form.

 

[To be continued...]

[Jana]

I don't know why you were worried before. Your writing is perfectly fine.

[OttoVann]

I don't know why you were worried before. Your writing is perfectly fine.

 

( I have never written this much anything for fun before ._.

 

Im constantly finding typos and grammar errors and stuff I didn't do well RIP)

[Tiergan]

(( I'm pretty sure eeeeeeeeverybody finds typos and mistakes after they post up some writing they did. Don't sweat it. ))

[OttoVann]

It hits you like a sledge being swung by the mightiest Highland man you can imagine. One minute your draped across your desk-chair, sleeping deeply if only for a few minutes before electricity hits your heart and veins and you lurch forward gasping for air as your eyes explode open. Over time I've come to experiment with all sorts of methods on how to best ingest this 'sugar' and powder seems to work best if you seek that instantaneous jolt to your system almost like an orgasm would flooding the mind and body with pleasure all at once. What it does to the mind is special, my vision feels like it gets better, my hearing seems to improve, all of a sudden the world is snapped into a crystal clear vision, like I'm looking through my gemscope on a macro scale.

 

Well it's time to get dressed. Normally I would throw my towel off my face and let it just land on the floor but lately I've been trying to be nice to the maids I keep and hang it back up on the hook where I got it. A small and practically worthless gesture but Ridley has noticed it before and gave an approving glance, definitely worth it the small effort it takes. I won't go into too much detail about how the great Otto Vann gets dressed in the morning, but I can tell you I prefer my smallclothes to be a blend of silk and linen that I make myself. Tight to the frame, extremely thin and breathable and always flattering to see me in.

 

*knock knock*

 

Interesting. Someone is coming to visit me and I didn't know about it ahead of time. Well it can only be a couple of people coming around unannounced. Luckily for them I haven't put my shirt or suit-jacket yet, only just cinching my belt tight as I walk across the room from my wardrobe to my door barefoot, unlocking it rather gruffly as I open the door.

 

None other than Lhea is at my door. Now this here is the personification of feminine perfection and beauty. True she is a Miqo but I've seen her reduce even the mightiest of men, myself included, to a worthless pile of blabbering mess - totally seduced by her form. She has a dark and rich satin-like brown flesh-tone, perfectly cut and maintained hair as black and dark as any coal you will ever see. Her eyes are her most powerful asset, touched with regal purple eyeliner, those jewels themselves also sparkle with a purple hue to them. Her lips are large and inviting, always covered with a dark black lipstick. Her style of outfit changes with the hours and today, at least for now, she's wearing a coatee and full length skirt, both colored dark red. Her corset is pushing her chest up and out with no hidden intentions, those breasts beg for attention and I usually oblige for a moment. I'm not one to disappoint so I give them an appraising look before matching her gaze as she begins to speak with that typical smile across her face.

 

I always remind myself that Lhea is someone that I trust implicitly and completely and she feels the same towards me. This fine young woman here knows more about me than almost everyone in my inner-circle of inner-circles ever will. She has seen me at my absolute lows, and has been there with me hand in hand at my peaks. I do my best to honor her and be there for her whenever she asks of me or seems to be distraught. We never have and never will sleep with each other and we frankly prefer it this way. Though I am not a liar, even though I've become largely immune to her overbearing beauty I still find myself looking at her with a bit of an eye for wanting more. I'm disciplined though and know that I need her too much as my closest confidant to ever take our friendship further than it is - that and she would decline me. I can't charm them all it would seem.

 

[To be continued...]

[Lhea Korolon]

I luv otto's writing!!! so much detail, it's quiet refreshing to read ~ *reads and blushes* oh Hey look that's me!! *waves* that make me famous?

[OttoVann]

"Otto!" she says as I open the door and match her gaze. She doesn't ask to be let in she typically leaps at me from the doorway as soon as she can, embracing my waist in a typical hug. This always prompts me to wrap one arm around her upper body, near her shoulders, and hug back with one arm as I use my free hand to pet her hair - always eliciting that purr she's perfected. After a moment passes she pulls away slightly to look up at me , smiling even with her eyes as she intentionally runs a finger from the start of my chest, down my abdomen in full to tease at me. I just love it when women throw themselves at me, even friends. It does something to the male ego that is worth cherishing.

 

Before she gets a chance to speak I always ask her if she's ready to melt in my mouth like a good chocolate cat. This always get a laugh out of her and "Sorry, but you're a slut". Well she isn't wrong, but I don't get offended by her loving description of me. I've even come to appreciate it.

 

"No ones around to talk to, so I'd thought I'd drop by my fav highlanders' place for some one on one time? You know talk and stuff like we normally do...". I can talk, I love it when she comes over to talk. Why? Its usually a good excuse to see her in a swimsuit as we spend quality time in my tub, soaking in the heat and discussing whatever comes to our minds. That and I know she has a bit of an infatuation with large men like me, and loves to rub my shoulders. Hard to say know to a woman like this when they want to put their hands on you even if it isn't lascivious.

 

I waste no time pulling away from her as I turn to walk back across my room to my Star Globe that I have sitting beside my main couch. Its something I put together myself, though admittedly I hired a an immensely skilled painter to adorn it with the various constellations in the sky and their relative locations are surprisingly accurate. This though, isn't your typical globe. I've made it where it opens up, breaking at the equator to reveal a few choice liquors in crystal decanters that I bought at some auction held by the Patricians of Ul'Dah. These decanters are one of the few things I own that I did not personally craft, my pride and ego won't even let me wear socks not produced by me.

 

I reach for my favored cognac, something palatable for us both since Lhea isn't a terribly heavy drinker. I only need one glass though, we don't mind sharing from the same glass as we sit and discuss whatever we feel like.

 

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

I'd never tell her, but I really just wanted an excuse to start drinking, heavily. As I walk over to the tub she knows the drill well enough to disrobe herself, revealing her swimsuit underneath. I knew she'd be wearing it its half the reason she came over. Seeing her brown body in its black swimsuit is so refreshing. Still though the thought of seeing that dark brown, dark haired beauty in next to nothing gets me to stop in my tracks if only for a moment as I breathe deeply through my nose, exhaling as I look her over fully. She really does take care of that figure, better than anyone I know.

 

I waste no time in setting the decanter and glass on the corner of my tub as my hands deftly reach for my belt, pulling its buckle loose with ease, not even needing to look or use more than one hand anymore. A quick tug to the clasp holding my pants up, and at once they fall to my feet as I step out of them and once again re-enter the water. Lhea wouldn't mind seeing me in the nude but I opt to leave my smallclothes on. Besides if I know her the first thing shes going to do in stand in front of me as I relax on the bench, giving me a moment to admire her before taking her place on my lap as we start to drink in earnest.

 

As usual I'm not wrong and she sits in her familiar spot, landing on my with a bit of a hop, as I pour the glass full of the deeply aromatic amber colored liquor and immediately drain half of it. Two full sips, drinking the 'expensive' liquor with no pomp or circumstance, eager to let it mix in with my 'sugar' from earlier enhancing how I currently feel. She takes the glass from my hand after I am through and just barely takes a sip, the contents of the glass hardly streaming into her mouth as she twitches her ears, still unaccustomed to drinking something heavy, especially this early in the morning.

 

Eager to lose a bit more of my sobriety, I cup my hands, holding Lhea's with the glass in her hand as I bring our hands up to my mouth, draining the rest of the glass at once. Approximately four onze's of liquor in moments. It sits on my stomach with a heat as it all goes down, churning my breakfast about. I won't lie, even someone like me who drinks enough to kill lesser men, even with much all at once will make the stomach go into turmoil. I always drink too much too fast, but I'm a busy man with little time and I have a need to not be sober most hours of most days as I work and womanize, socialize, and terrorize those who need it.

 

[Coatleque]

(( It's like the side of Master Vann I've always knew existed but never wanted to know about... I can't stop reading... ))

[Oscare]

((I'm so glad I caught up! I love it \o/! It's a refreshing perspective.))

[Lhea Korolon]

(( otto knows me so well!! but i can't help but blush alittle!! *laughs* lurv my fav highlander <3333 ))

[OttoVann]

Lhea gives me a half-hearted smile, disapproving my of drinking habit but she knows in the grand scheme of things its relatively minor to real problems that she has seen me barely survive and deal with. With one hand I’m petting the top of her head again, drawing out the purr she can’t help to contain – while with the other hand I pick up the decanter to refill our glass again. However, this time I don’t bother filling it up, barely at all actually. Only enough for her as I take the decanter to my lips and start to drink from it directly.

 

“Otto!” “ Really?” Yes Lhea really, but this isn’t the first or last time she has seen me drink like a drunkard so after that she gets to nursing her own drink while she sits in my lap, giving a slight grind to her hips every once in a while to tease me like she always does. She’s the only woman that teases me and gets away with it, a secret well-kept from the outside world.

 

Frankly what we discuss isn’t all that exciting. I always ask how she is with her boytoys though. She has so many young men wrapped around her fingers it almost impresses me. Most young men in Ul’Dah aren’t used to seeing such features in a woman, and a Miqo no less that knows how to dress and maintain themselves – they stand no chance. She will always ask me how my whores are doing; one to be demeaning about it but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. She is right; some of them are indeed paid whores. Sometimes a man doesn’t care about the chase, and cares more about getting exactly what he wants in exactly the right way. When you pay true professionals of the craft the amount of money I do, you always walk away satisfied – assuming you can walk when it’s all said and done.

 

Even though what we discuss is rarely terribly interesting, we’re friends and friends take the time from their busy days to speak to one another. Soon enough Lhea rises from the water, usually flicking me with her lion-shaped tail once, as she saunters behind me sitting on the edge of the tub to massage my shoulders as we keep talking. Lhea is a small woman so she has to use both hands for one of my shoulders, but we both know she loves doing it. She has a deep-seated passion for masculinity and loves to see me without much on. Though that feeling is mutual and the less she wears the happier I am.

 

Its about that time I can tell. I glance over to my ridiculous looking Carby clock and see that the day is growing a bit short. I’ve got people to do, things to see, and places to be. With a heavy sigh I let Lhea know that for now I need to be off.

 

“Going to spend time with a slut I bet”. For once she’s wrong. I just want to get out of my room, I awoke hours ago and it’s time for me to get dressed, look my best, and let the world know of my presence.

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

Lhea isn't one to bemoan much when its her time to go. She knows that I love her dearly as a friend and she feels the same to me so when I tell her I have places to be she lets me go without much fuss. She dries off, I simply airdry the best you can with a pair of wet smallclothes on while I stand behind her watching her get dressed until its time for the corset. Like the true and proper gentleman that I am I help her tighten it up to get those breasts of hers to pop and slim that waist to a seductive level, though my hands are a bit sloppy I'm high and drunk at this point but I've gotten used to operating at a productive level with all of this in my system. She turns, hugs and kisses me on my cheek and soon enough leaves with a lingering goodbye wave of her hand as she exits.

 

As soon as the door is closed I strip out of my wet silk and linen bottoms and change into a fresh pair, kicking off the wet pair uncaring as to where they land. A fresh pair of bottoms later, I reach to put my pin-striped pink pants on and then my shoes. I custom make my shoes from existing patterns with slightly different materials that help achieve maximum attention on me when I walk into a room. First I only use whitened dodore leather. Its a status symbol, when most people adventure through the elements, being able to wear pure white leather dress shoes says a lot about what you can and can't afford. Secondly, I take the bottom of the soles and use a much harder leather on the sole near the toe-cap. Superficially the shoe looks the same with the harder rubber, but the clapping noise they make as I walk on hard surfaces always turns a couple of heads. You know a lot of people underestimate the power an audible stride can make. Our minds can most definitely hear the difference between a man walking casually and a man with purpose, a man walking with peace on his mind or fury. As vain as it sounds I give my shoes more work and attention than most people give to their entire outfit, its who I am after all. I didn't get to the top by wearing any old thing and simply selling my wares out of a shop stall like a second rate artisan.

 

After tying my shoes tight I walk over to my largest couch where I set my coat and start to put it on. Most days I take off and put my clothes on several times a day since Im not one to turn down casual encounters with whoever I run into throughout the day. I dont even look down as I fasten my button up to my neck. My fingers most deftly, the process second nature at this point as I look forward at my clock simply starting at it. Once my coat is on I reach down to the hanger and get my typical bow tie, silk and striped in white and black. Once again I don't even look down as I expertly tie it, cinching it to my neck as I fluff it out. Most days I wear a tie due to the usefulness of it more than anything. I will always be eternally surprised at the amount of women who enjoy having their hands bound behind their back by a mans neck tie as you dance in the sheets with them. Its as much as a fashion statement as it is a tool of the trade at this point.

 

Fully clothed, I walk to my desk, my shoes clicking as they should against my marble floors. I put my finger in my mouth to wet it, digging around in my little bowl of 'sugar' to coat it and get one last taste for the road. I reach for my little red coral ear rings I fashioned myself, my typical nez styled red lensed glasses and put them both on with a smile on my face as I get my wallet and head for the door, eager to head to Ul'Dah and see what the day brings before my appointment with Lucy later that night. I just can't wait.

 

[Work in progress. To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

The Quicksand. The home of the Adventurer's Guild for Ul'Dah, a bar, and so much more. The proprietor is a Lalafell known as Momodi – a bossy little woman who loves to speak frankly but runs a clean establishment all the same. Courtesans come and go looking for and finding clients throughout the day, drug peddlers shadily sit in corners 'shaking hands' with their customers. Adventurers, mercenaries, drunkards, brass-blades, SultanSworn, private guards; this massive corner of Ul'Dah has it all and I just love going to it, daily if I can help it. I usually stick out like a sore thumb in this place which is half the reason I come here. So few men in Ul'Dah can or even know how to wear a suit and properly dress, it almost makes the chase too easy for me and I always get shown the a proper amount of respect.

 

 

As I walk into the bar, pushing the heavy doors open with my arms out wide as I part them, the smells and aromas of unwashed adventurers, stale food, cheap whores, gut-rottingly bad booze all my hit me at once and I can't help but smile. It's offensive, but I've grown a bit used to it. The doors opening and closing stir the dusty and stale air, swirling it around as I enter the boor and approach a free spot on a railing that surrounds the inner seating area of the bar. I lean over the real, elbows propped against it as I remove my nez-styled glasses and scan the room. It's a bit dark inside here, and today it's crowded to its usual capacity. After looking over the crowd I notice a familiar face standing guard like she typically does at that same pillar. She's a SulstanSworn and stands out like a small beacon against the dark and damp feeling of the Quicksand. I observe her for a moment, paying attention to see if she is busy and once I determine she's not I begin to make my way over to her to say my hellos.

 

 

The SultanSworn's name is Coatleque Crofte. I never really learned how to say her first name so I avoid it entirely by referring to her simply as Crofte. She's built like a proper highland woman, clear muscle and definition on her frame with some obvious strength to her. She's also quite tall for a hyur woman, measuring in at I would guess around 5'10 or so. When I am privileged enough to see her outside of that armored uniform and in a proper dress, she has wide hips, an ample bosom, and firm shoulders. Like I said a true Highland woman, one many men would love to have at their side in combat or in their bed.

 

 

Luckily for us all Crofte not only has the assets to be a proper woman of my kind, but she also has quite the looks to her. She is indeed a pretty young woman. Her skin is fair and lacks scars, she keeps herself clean and what little makeup she wears is always neat and well applied around her eyes; Crofte prefers pink hues for eye shadow to surround those green irises of hers. Her red and orange colored hair is usually kept in a long ponytail that flows down her back between her shoulders. She is particular with her bangs, one side always hanging loosely to cover an eye and portion of her cheek with the other side of her bangs brushed back and tucked to the side behind an ear. Crofte usually wears pink-diamond ear rings and if she wears lip gloss the color is light and natural. I personally find her to be beautiful but I learned long ago to not have anything other than a professional interest in her. Fortunately for me, Crofte was gracious when she turned down my advances.

 

 

 

[work in progress...to be continued...]

[OttoVann]

I first met Crofte months ago after being a relative newcomer to Ul'Dah and its business. She intervened in a nasty bit of business I had with some slut-thief of a woman known as Cerii. Cerii had stolen my pants and shoes out in the wild and while I won't go into much detail on how and why that came about, lets just say I managed to run into the wench in the Quicksand. True enough I was fresh from walking all the way back to Ul'Dah and as I was headed to The Quicksand to enter my room I happened to see her and stormed across the bar in my smallclothes and suit jacket to confront her. Again I will spare the details but after a very large and loud shouting match with the thief-bitch, Crofte stepped in to put it all to rest. She reimbursed me my twenty-thousand gil for the lost pants and shoes and took the harpy into custody though I don't know what came of that.

 

After all of that had happened and I found some time to cool down I realized I was a bit hot-headed with the Lady Crofte and more than a little rude to her. She rightfully should have slapped me in the mouth with a mailed hand but kept her composure and was the epitome of professional and also a bit gorgeous I quickly noted. I immediately started putting together plans for her, one asking her to dinner, two using those incredible looks for my gain, and three just figuring out what the hell she was. Its not everyday someone can stand up to me while I am fucking furious and not wither from the experience. However, all of this aside, I'm quickly approaching Crofte so we'll just have to go over our history another time.

 

As I approach her I know she has seen me because she's got a bit of a habit of taking in a deep breathe as subtle as she can. I always see it though since the armor around her breast area rises ever so slightly - more than usual. I personally don't think she despises me, or is scared of me, but all the same she has a habit of 'preparing' to speak to me. I like to attribute it to her having a deep-seated attraction to me though I think that way about everyone in their regards to me.

 

Crofte also has the custom of speaking as 'properly' as possible with me and goes out of her way to mask that accent and natural enunciation that is clearly not from Ul'Dah. I may have lost a majority of my hearing as I've gone through life, but even half-deaf I can hear she hides it and at one point I was ever so bold and asked her about it and she was...most upset. I've learned to just disregard it and take to interacting with her as she is versus what I know.

 

As I walk up beside Crofte I always mime her pose. She's either standing with her hands on the side of her hips as she scans the room and stands solemnly or her arms are across across her chest as she guards. Today her hands are on her hips and I'm quick to mimic her. I never speak to her right away, I simply stand silently and scan the room as she does, smiling all the while as I let a few moments pass.

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

It's hard for me to say why I always make it a point of speaking with the Lady Crofte. Sure she is attractive and that's a good enough excuse as any, however, I've learned over the weeks and months of coming here she almost exclusively responds in the same way to the same questions. It's a challenge to get too much idle chat out of her. Even when I had the rare privilege of her sitting across from me for lunch one fateful day, I felt as if I was goading her to speak about herself or any subject with more than a few words.

 

I think the biggest reason I am drawn to her is that in a city like Ul'Dah where literally everything and everyone schemes in ways that are less than idealistic, she simply shows up to work and performs her sworn duties. She is under no delusions of grandeur like so many of her colleagues, she has no desire for increased power or station, unless given to her by The Sultana. She's clung to being a SultanSworn to give herself purpose and she contents herself with that. Simple and admirable. I'd like to convert her to a friend of mine one day. Its refreshing having people like her in Ul'Dah.

 

All the same I can't help myself and finally speak to her after letting the moments pass. Always one to turn to me and offer a bit of a smile. We go through our motions, her day has gone well. She's staying safe as always. Ul'Dah sis as awful as always. My businesses are doing well and I am looking as handsome and debonair as always. After I give her my brief interrogation and she obliges me – I simply leave her be. I excuse myself, always telling her I will let her get back to her pillar and she always tells me “Twelvespeed to you Lord Vann”.

 

Indeed 'Twelvespeed' to me as I leave her side and walk to the bar that’s close by knocking on it once to get Momodi's attention. As she is preparing my usual mug of water I reach to my pocket to remove one of the familiar tiny silken bags that contain more of my 'sugar'. I'm a busy man and I'm already feeling tired and its barely two bells past noon. I don't think I spend more than a few hours a night asleep when I'm lucky. I've got too many women to enjoy, too much business to maintain, too much politicking to do, and way too many schemes to machinate for my gain and enjoyment.

 

As Momodi slides my water across the table I pull the tiny pouch open, loosening the twine wrapped around the pink silk and dump the contents into my water. Momodi knows, but she also knows that I mean no harm and simply need my medicine to help get through the day. I usually just take tablespoons of this stuff and consume it instantly, placing all of my dose in my mouth at once and washing it quickly with water for that massive jolt to kick-start me, but during the day like this I prefer to have it sit in my water and gradually take it in. It makes the water taste like the most bitter poison you can imagine and I drink it this way on purpose almost like a self-punishment for leading such a lascivious and debauched lifestyle. Maybe one day I'll get tired of drinking water this way and for once sleep for more than a couple of hours. Today will not be that day though considering what Ridley lined up for me tonight.

 

As I sit at the bar, drinking the terrifically bad water, I ponder a moment the other Paladins in Ul'Dah that aren't Crofte. Most of them are rather useless to a man like me. Most of them are seemingly useless in service to Her Majesty and Ul'Dah as well. The large majority of them don't even attempt to wear their uniform, that Gallant armor that admittedly has quite the legendary reputation. Its a privilege to have it bestowed and most of the Sworn would rather never been seen with it, regardless of their oath. I think you would find more Free Paladins wanting to wear their Gallant suits and I think they do. A man like me sits on the outskirts of the most powerful and influential people in Ul'Dah and always will, this doesn't stop me from making use of everyone I can though. I need more Paladins to view me in a favorable light and I intend to make it happen.

 

First though I need to finish this water and head over to the various 'Lanes' in Ul'Dah and soak in the sights of people doing business, peddling their wares, and pay a personal visit to my stalls and businesses. Playing around with Royalists is one thing, but business is always more important.

 

[To be continued...]