[ Xichen's palms are sweaty where he rubs them inside the silk pockets of the long wool coat he wears upon entering the building, long hair down over his shoulders and flecked in snowflakes. He stamps on the carpet to rid himself of the sludge and greets the doorman cheerfully, nerves jangling unseen in his throat as he makes his way not to the elevator toward his apartment but to the ground-floor bar open to the public, a suave affair in dark wood and low lighting, wondering all the way if he has actually made a huge mistake. Nie Mingjue was insistent about the practicality of the idea. You haven't slept with anyone in seven years, it's time to move on from that little shithead. True, of course. He's had a horrid time getting over Jin Guangyao but Da-ge was right: Xichen does have needs, needs that are near to snapping after he got hard watching a (hardly) spicy sex scene at his best friend's house (and subsequently wanted to die of embarrassment). He could not refuse the myriad options Da-ge looked up on his laptop, efficient and unflustered in a bid to help, of attractive women and men ... and their listed rates.
Escorts, in a word. Hookers, by an unkinder one, but all from very high-profile companies as Da-ge pointed out.
They'll be discreet, don't worry. At worst you can tell them to leave whenever you want.
The only problem is, Xichen left all of the arrangements to his friend out of sheer humiliation and now has no idea which person he's supposed to be waiting for or receiving at the bar, going off the simplest description available of "Tall, pretty, and wearing red", which he supposes is Da-ge's way of trying to inspire some mystery. All it does, without his little brother's artful touch, is leave Xichen utterly perplexed as he looks around the bar, hoping no one has come.
A single man sitting alone wears a red shirt and Xichen feels his heart leap in his throat as he catches sight of a very pretty profile, silently sending Da-ge a round of mental thanks (and privately impressed the other man knows him this well). Swallowing his nerves, he makes his approach and clears his throat, emboldened by the idea of such a lovely creature being all his for the evening. ]
Another round for the young gentleman and I'll have a sazerac.
[ His gaze cuts sideways to the stranger, a soft smile in place as Xichen gives him a polite nod. ]
wifedup; lifetimes ago on a mountain
Escorts, in a word. Hookers, by an unkinder one, but all from very high-profile companies as Da-ge pointed out.
They'll be discreet, don't worry. At worst you can tell them to leave whenever you want.
The only problem is, Xichen left all of the arrangements to his friend out of sheer humiliation and now has no idea which person he's supposed to be waiting for or receiving at the bar, going off the simplest description available of "Tall, pretty, and wearing red", which he supposes is Da-ge's way of trying to inspire some mystery. All it does, without his little brother's artful touch, is leave Xichen utterly perplexed as he looks around the bar, hoping no one has come.
A single man sitting alone wears a red shirt and Xichen feels his heart leap in his throat as he catches sight of a very pretty profile, silently sending Da-ge a round of mental thanks (and privately impressed the other man knows him this well). Swallowing his nerves, he makes his approach and clears his throat, emboldened by the idea of such a lovely creature being all his for the evening. ]
Another round for the young gentleman and I'll have a sazerac.
[ His gaze cuts sideways to the stranger, a soft smile in place as Xichen gives him a polite nod. ]
Pardon my forwardness.