Disclaimer: I admit it! I don't own 'em!
Tabitha Smith lo aro around the club with wide eyes. A second later Pietro appeared beside her wheezing. "Hey thanks for runnin' us all in here Speedy," she said, caressing his shoulder. He gave an undignified huff, before standing up straight and brushing off his suit. "No problem Tabby," he replied sarcastically, "It was my pleasure." She glared. "Tell me why we're here again?" he asked. "Come on! This is the coolest and most exclusive club in New York," Tabitha said. Lance snorted. "You mean the most expensive," he said. She smiled. "Yeah. But that's why we got Speedy to race us all here." She looked at Pietro who was scowling at her. "And speed us all out." She snapped her fingers. "No one 'ill be the wiser." Pietro's laugh caught them all off guard. They turned to him. He shook his head. "I ain't takin' any a you back," he said, with a classic smirk, "Bad enough I almost killed myself runnin' each of you here from Bayville. Blob's not exactly a pleasure trip you know." "Hey!" Freddy said. "Sorry man, you know it's true," Pietro replied. "He's got a point, yo." "Shut up Toad!" Freddy said, looking around. Tabitha sauntered over to Pietro seductively. "You're gonna take me back though, right Speedy?" He shook his head. "Sorry Tabby, enjoy the train ride." She screeched, and pointed at the others. "Pietro! I'm the lightest person here! It's not gonna kill you-" "Actually Todd's the lightest," he replied, with a smirk. Her mouth gaped open. "And I'm still not taking any of you home." "Why you-" Lance grabbed her before a full battle could be wagged. "Come on guys, that snooty guy has our table ready!" Lance walked to the table, dragging an exasperating Tabitha, while the others followed.
"Why'd we gotta wear suits for? I feel like I'm gonna die, yo," Todd said, when they were comfortably seated. "Because this place is classy," Tabitha replied, "And would it kill any of you to actually behave long enough for us to have a good time?" Pietro snorted. "Look who's talking." She whipped around to face him. Lance caught Tabitha by the wrist. "Listen up all of you," he snapped, "It almost killed Pietro getting us all down here. And God knows Tabby wouldn't shut up about this place. So, if we're here to have a good time, let's do it. If not, and if you guys don’t shut up, I'm gonna bring this whole place down right on top of us. Got ?!"?!" The ground trembled as he spoke, and when he stopped they all nodded dumbly. "Good," he said, calmer. He picked up a menu and began to look through it. "Now, what to order," he mumbled.
After they'd had a few drinks, courtesy of Lance, Pietro, and their fake i.d.'s, the lights dimmed. "Another floor show?" Freddy asked. Tabitha shrugged. "Whaddaya want? That's how this club works." "You know what this reminds me of?" Everyone looked at Todd. "One a those oldies.ies. You know, the one's in black and white? I feel like the cops are gonna raid this place any minute, yo." They all stared. "No more drinks for you," Lance said. "Aww, come on Lance! You can't tell me you don't feel it, yo! Look! Pietro's got the whole mob boss thing down." Pietro cocked an eyebrow as his friends turned to stare at him. Tabby chewed the straw of her Cosmopolitan. "I guess so," she said. "Don Pietro," Lance murmured. It took all of two seconds for them all to burst out laughing. "Ha ha, very funny," Pietro said, with a frown. "You know-" "Ladies GentGentlemen." Tabby stopped what she was saying, as they all turned to watch the stage. "We hope you are fully enjoying yourselves." The audience replied by clapping. "And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for. The crown jewel of the Regala…Rogue!" The audience clapped. Pietro's hands stopped mid air. 'Rogue?' It couldn't be, could it? 'No, it's just some singer who ripped off her name. But still…' He shook his head, trying to dislodge the impossible thoughts.
The room darkened, and the red velvet curtain drew back. A spotlight shone on a glimmering black piano. The music began, soft, melodic. Then a voice was heard. "I ain't sleeping, too much in my head." A second spotlight shone on a girl lying across the piano. "I've been thinking, something's left unsaid." Pietro froze. It was her. It was Rogue. Hair air fell about her face, which was surprisingly goth free. Her eyes were lined with red, her eyelashes shinning sweet silver. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her perfect full lips had a rasberry look to them. "And in the morning feeling just the same. Boy it's killing me."
The dress fit so perfectly to her body, that if not for the lower half, that slit all the way up to her hips, he'd swear it was painted on. His eyes were locked onto her perfect form. The dress was midnight black, with a soft snowy glitter that seemed to rain down around her. It caught the light, and sparkled so brightly, that she looked angelic, hallowed entirely in glistening light.
"I ain’t crying, don’t want to be alone. Just need lifting from my melancholic tone." She swung her legs over the side of the piano. The movement baring the long legs she always kept hidden. "Make no mistake. A little too late is just too long. Don’t ask me why this is goodbye, if you do me wrong." She began to sway seductively, her eyes half closed, her head falling back, slowly baring her neck. "So baby tonight, I might let you in." Her legs spread apart a few inches, the long dress falling between them. Her back arched. "No need to fight. I’m yours. So let’s begin. But baby I know, when you go, your touch I’ll miss. But starting tonight, if you don’t treat me right, then it’s just gonna end as a good night kiss." She sat up and blew a kiss into the audi. It. It headed straight for Pietro, whose pulse was racing.
She hopped off the piano. "Boy you’re dreaming. You don’t know what to do. Don’t be shy. STOP. I’m coming through. And in the meantime if you have a little doubt. Make no mistake, it’s never to late. What’s done can be undone. Don’t be afraid to do what I say. The best is yet to come." She slowly got off the stage. Still swaying, she began to walk across the room to the table directly in front of her. Pietro gulped. She was looking right at him, and headed right for him. Their eyes were locked. "So baby tonight, I might, let you in." She climbed up on the table and crawled across it to him. On her knees, she arched back, her hips pushing out towards him. "No need to fight. I’m yours. So let’s begin." She sat up again. Her green eyes flashing as they caught his again. She sat on the table and swung her legs over the edge. "But baby I know, when you go, your touch I’ll miss." She grabbed his tie and pulled him to her. Their faces were inches apart. "But starting tonight, if you don’t treat me right, then it’s just gonna end as a good night kiss." She kissed the air, her lips just slightly grazing his.
One graceful leg came up and she put the perfect heel of her foot to his chest, the sharp point of her shoe just barely pressing into his skin. With a light push, she made him lean back in his chair. "I’d rather be lonely than be with a phoney. If I’m not the girl in your head." She slipped off the table, landing softly in his lap. Her hips pressed against his. Her bare arms encircled his neck, meeting at the back of his head. Her hands grasped fistfuls of his hair as she pressed against him. "I’d rather be wrong if it doesn’t feel right." His arms, which had up until now been frozen at his sides, encircled her thin waist, pressing her harder against him. She arched back against him, conforming her body to his. "Cause boy you’re killing me tonight." Her hands pulled his head toward her, pressing his face close to her perfect breasts. Her eyes met his again, emerald green locked with crystal blue. "So baby tonight, I might, let you in." She rocked her hips against him slowly. Then brought his face close to hers. "No need to fight. I’m yours. So let’s begin." One of his hands raised to caress the side of her face. She sighed. "But baby I know, when you go, your touch I’ll miss. But stag tog tonight, if you don’t treat me right, then it’s just gonna end as a good night kiss." Pietro leaned back in his chair, pulling her closer to him. Her head dropped back, and he was faced with her slender neck. "A good night kiss." His free hand grasped the base of her head, fingers twining her hair. He brought her forward against him, leaning back further in his chair, so it rocked on back legs. "A good night kiss." He angled her face, brining it close. She licked her lips, her small tongue darting out. He lost it in that instant. With one last hard tug, he was ready to ravish her.*THUD*
Pietro pushed up against the floor, winded. He took a deep breath and coughed. Groaning, he got up slowly. The t.v. was still on, and it was softly milling out some old love song. The lights caught in his silver hair as he sat back on the couch. He sighed, and gently beat his head against the back of the furniture. Another one! He’d had another dream about her! Groaning again, he sat up and began a search for the remote. Damn her! She was keeping him from sleeping. Not that he minded the dreams, though they’d probably be less painful, if he could at least kiss her once. Pietro brushed empty boxes of mallowmars off the couch. Damn things had probably given him the dream. They were Rogue’s favorite, and they reminded him so much of her, and how he’d like too… ‘Stop it.’ Finding the remote, he quickly cut off the t.v., effectively ending Casablanca. ‘Why?’ ‘Because she loves to and it’s the only way you’ll get close to her. Let alone-’ ‘Shut up.’ He wondered if this was what the inside of Rogue’s mind was like. Always some voice ready to contradict you.
"This stuff is gonna kill me," he mumbled, getting up and stretching. He rubbed the back of his head as he walked out the living room, stepping on countless empty boxes of mallowmars as he went. ‘Crap.’ His heart was racing in his chest. His head hurt, and he was genuinely tired. Not to mention the other throbbing pain consuming the lower region of his body. He took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘Well Rogue. I hope you’re happy. And you think nobody wants you.’ He snorted, looking down and absently rubbing at the ache. He closed his eyes and saw her face. He groaned, his lower regions tensing. Pietro’s heart vibrated in his chest as he bit his lip, waiting for release. He fell back against the wall as the pleasure racked through his body. He slid down the wall until he was a rumpled mess on the floor. He was breathing heavy and his heart raced on. He thought of his dream and felt himself harden. He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Christ. She’s driving me crazy!’ Using the end table for support, Pietro stood up on unsteady legs. ‘Well, here we go again.’ He sighed, then ran full speed out the door.
A/N: I don’t own Mallowmars, Good Night Kiss, or Casablanca. They belong to Nabisco, Geri Halliwell (off her c.d. Schizophonic – if anyone was wondering) and Turner (at least I think – anyway, you get it. I don’t own it) As for the club, I made it up. So yes, that’s about the only thing I own here besides the idea.