Daring Escape [Jackson]

[brooke]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,23,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i51.tinypic.com/2hxorb8.png');,true] you can never know what to expect you're manic Fucking Brilliant. Brooke scowled at the beer spilled down the front of her short blue dress. It was certainly going to please Rupert if that drunken bastard ruined it. Her father had derisively given her harsh critique as she headed out the door to meet up with some friends to go clubbing. Apparently ‘nice and classy’ girls did not show so much leg or have one tit practically hanging out; furthermore, if she was going to wear ‘hooker’ make-up she was banned from hailing any taxi cabs lest there be any misunderstandings on the street corner. This all coming from the man who hit shamelessly on her friends, when he was not knocking them up, and was so relentless about how she looked that her bones stuck out in some places that just weren’t attractive. It was like some voodoo ritual having sex with guys as skinny as her, boney pelvises knocking together. Of course, had she known what a god awful club this was going to be, with staggering drunk guys trying to grind against you when they weren’t dumping half a pint down you, she would have been perfectly content sitting at home in her sweats, watching re-runs, and putting a fifth coat of polish on her toe nails. She would readily endure the crick in her neck from pinning a phone between her ear and shoulder next to pressing crude paper towels to her brand new dress. She was just glad that few women felt the same about utilizing the guy’s toilets when the girls line was around the corner. Sighing with dismay, at her soiled dress, Brooke glanced to the high windows along the wall. She was never going to hear the end of it if she went back out there. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered going out with these particular girls. If they were not all abandoning each other for the first chance of getting laid by a halfway decent looking guy, they were talking behind each others backs. Making a run for it seemed like the better idea. If she could get up that high anyway. Walking to the far stall, stripped of its door, Brooke laid toilet paper along the rim of the seat because the seat covers had not been replaced since god-knew-when, and then pulled off her heels and stepped up carefully. Gripping the edge of the stall for balance, she pushed up the narrow, rectangular window and clung to the sill as she hoisted herself up. One heel falling from her careless grasp was an instant ‘no going back’, so she tossed the next to the ground below and proceeded to pull her frame up and through the space. There were two good things about being too slender: one was that she did not need much strength to get herself up, and two that she actually fit through the escape. Getting down was a step she had not yet considered...

[Jackson Taylor Kincaid]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i55.tinypic.com/qrn0oy.jpg) ] If I Go Crazy will you still call me Superman? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It was getting very hard to be good, but Jack had been trying all night. Like, really, really trying. He had a decent wad of cash tucked into his pants thanks to an artifact he had thieved from an exhibit at the museum; a leathery strip of tattooed skin supposedly belonging to one of the Pharaohs, so he was keeping his hands to himself. Well, mostly. The money had really been the icing on the cake. That hard ass bald-headed man had been willing to pay bookoos for the thing, and of course Jackson had taken the pay check. But the most important thing was that another cursed object was safe in the hunter’s storage instead of in the hands of someone who’d use it. Jack had done his research and man, that little piece of some cat’s arm could stir up some bad, bad ju-ju. Details, details. Back to how hard it was for Jack to be good. Even with the bills in his pocket he was too tempted to extract the wallet from the clutch purse of the dawlin’ currently rubbing her ass all up against his junk to the rhythm of Ne-Yo’s ‘Closer’. The sky-eyed male wondered briefly if this was about him at all or if the feisty red-head had felt his ‘wad’ from the jump. Dawlin’s round here were real good at that; spotting men that had a bit of change in their pockets. He couldn’t blame her really. Tonight he was all G.Q. in dark clothes from head to toe. Black pants snug and the black pin-stripe button down felt cool against his skin; some expensive material he couldn’t have remembered if you asked him. His mood-ring eyes were more green than blue tonight. Take that however you wanted to. Jackson’s jaw dropped when she dropped and locked it…or whatever the hell that move was the exotic dancer had just done on him. “Lawd, female…you’re gon’ kill me alright. Jus’ get me to a shallow grave when you done down there.” He let his head fall back against his neck and let out a loud growl, resting his hand on the woman’s shoulder and giving it a good squeeze since it was doubtful she’d heard his comment over the loud music. The song was over way too soon and the honey sashayed back to the bar, casting a naughty glance over her shoulder at him in silent invitation. Well…so much for being good. Jackson wondered how many cocktails it would take to get her in a bathroom stall because he really didn’t feel like sharing his bed tonight... And the lucky number was three, but turned out it wasn’t so lucky after all. Once she was good and sloppy the honey started talkin’ about him puttin’ a ring on her finger and how all her late husbands hadn’t been as good lookin’ as he was. Jack got a tick in his eye and told the female needed to excuse himself to the little gentlemen’s room and he was gon’ be right back. Course he didn’t go back after all. Jack slid out the rear way, ‘cause he could feel her eyes raping his backside all the way to the toilet. Good thing an ‘employee’s only’ sign hung from a door in between the little girl and little boys rooms and just so happened that there was a storage area back there and wouldn’t you know it, a door leading into the alley behind the joint. Was he smooth or was he smooth? Tugging on the long-sleeve shirt where he had it folded up to his elbow, Jackson paused for a heart beat. There was a noise from somewhere above him and Jack ducked just in time to miss a shoe to the head, but was too momentarily bowled over to remember there was always a second. This one hit him right in the temple. Fucking high heels. The body that was squirming out after the flying shoes was awful familiar, and the devil-grinned man arched a dark eye brow at her. “Whatchoo doin’ up there Dawlin’?” His green-blue eyes twinkled mischievous and he smirked along with the man in the moon. “You know if you can’t pay your tab you can always flirt some poor fool into it… ‘specially with a backside like that. Your dress is hung on somethin’, Cherie. I can see your unmentionables.” Now he remembered the woman. Can’t forget an ass like that. Her name was Brooke. And he wondered where her little side kick Diana was. Fo' Brooke. Whocareshowmanywords. OUTFIT. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[brooke]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,23,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i51.tinypic.com/2hxorb8.png');,true] you can never know what to expect you're manic Alright, so maybe out the window was best left to Pixar toys, because clearly Brooklyn was not having as easy a time about it as she imagined she would. Not to hear her tell it, of course, because right now, as she shimmied through with her tongue anchored at the corner of her mouth, things seemed to be working out fine. At least, that was the way it seemed to a twenty-five-year-old woman who did not always have the best judgment. Pushing past the tug of the window’s latch against her clothes, it did not occur to her that there was an on-looker anymore than the fact that there was a perfectly suitable passage out of there nearby. But of course she would never have gone through an employee restricted area… no more than she would crawl out a window eight feet off the ground head first. Sheer madness. If only she had had the foresight in this state of mind to know what she was going to do. Lucky bastard knowing he was going to make a break for it too. Perhaps she could be mistaken for a psychic, in the know of the any future but her own actions, for who should come along but a capable man by strength and height? And who said dumb luck was overrated? Hanging very precariously from the waist, and not really having a hell of a lot to cover her backside as it was, Brooke pressed her hands against the building’s brick wall for balance and lifted her face to place the face to the voice. Even though few probably got a view of it from this angle, it was still uniquely recognizable with his chiseled face and deeply contrasted eyes against dark hair. Dear Lord he was too ridiculously handsome for his own good. It was no wonder he could get away with acting like such a dick. Call her a hooker will he? Glancing over her shoulder as he indicated her ‘unmentionables’, she practically fell against the wall in laughing defeat. “At least it’s not my tits. That you will have to pay for. Though…” Grunting in struggle and realizing she was suck unless she wanted to tear her dress. So much for revealing that her boobs might fall out because she wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t going anywhere. She sat still for a quiet moment. “I’m so despising you right now, Big Man.” With an overcome frown, Brooke looked up again, stretching out an arm and reaching for him. “Come on. Help a girl out. Show me what those muscles and that Gigantor height is for.” Despite her words, she really was not all that displeased with him. Proof in that she stuck around after he did call her what he did. And maybe he had good reason with the coincidence that her dad went and called her one heading out this evening. It was not like this guy had Happily Ever After tattooed across his forehead or anything. Letting out a sharp laugh, she waved him over. “Come on. Please? I’ll make it worth your while. Even if you already owe me for showing off my new Vickies.”

[Jackson Taylor Kincaid]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i55.tinypic.com/qrn0oy.jpg) ] If I Go Crazy will you still call me Superman? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - And there it was. The smart mouth that went with the beautiful ass he recognized. Jack smiled wide and side-ways, arching a dark brow over his rebellious stare. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side a little, taking it all in before letting loose a throaty chuckle. “Well, well, well…if it ain’t Sugar Hayes!” Jackson ambled over nice and slow, tugging on his sleeve again and doin’ everything he could to postpone what was obviously inevitable. “You didn’t answer my inquiry. Whatchoo doin’ up there Cherie?” He held up a big ole’ palm and shook his head, changing his mind almost immediately. “No…nevah mind. I dun wanna’ know.” The young man had a fierce imagination and he liked to use it. He could imagine himself up a real nice mental porno from this kind of situation. Any situation, truth be told. “Just tell me one thing. Is that the little dawlin’ or the little devil’s room?” He laughed husky again and figured that was probably all he could do with delaying the unavoidable. That Brooklyn was a feisty one and maybe if he played the hero she’d give him a free boobie show afta’ all. Jackson moved right underneath the woman, taking one last lingering look at her ‘Vickies’ before grasping her firmly, but carefully at the ribcage. Thanks to his daddy he’d been privileged with a tad more strength than the average male. Another thing he’d been blessed with besides all the hard muscles and Gigantor height. Not that he was Supa’ Man or anything. Still, his arms were unwavering as he held her steadily, allowing her time to reach back and unhook her dress before putting her hands on his wide shoulders while he pulled her down. She was just a pixie of a woman, not particularly small in height but too damn thin, ‘specially compared to him. As he rested her bare feet down it wasn’t on the dirty, peed soaked pavement, but on the top of his own shoes. Jack was excellent at bein’ bad, but he could be good too…when he tried real, real hard. He gave her a moment to arrange her mentionables before giving her his most devious of grins. “I knew you were a fire cracker but never pegged you for an escape artist.” Jackson flashed Brooke a charming smile and his mood-ring turquoise eyes smirked into hers. It was no oversight that he still had his paws wrapped around her sides. She was teeny tiny and it made the corners of his mouth twitch up. God only knew why. “Guess the question ain’t whatchoo doin’ but whatchoo gon’ do now that you’ve escaped.” Jackson didn’t fancy hanging around-- what with the black widow inside probably wondering where he was right about now, but as far as he was concerned the night was still young and the stars like diamonds in a cloudless black sky. Perfect riding weather. “You gon’ come with Jack an let him show you some fun?” Fo' Brooke. Whocareshowmanywords. OUTFIT. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[brooke]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,23,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i51.tinypic.com/2hxorb8.png');,true] you can never know what to expect you're manic For hardly knowing Jackson, given their one intimate encounter in which she used him for a ‘learning tool’ to teach her little friend a lesson, Brooke was not entirely sure that he was going to help her down. If even to only mess with her. Given that notion, her mind began to wander during his inquiry after which restroom she chose to hang her body out of an she missed his question entirely for favour of wishing she had a bottle of nail polish on her. If she was going to be hanging around doing nothing until the next guy came around willing to let her down, she might as well be doing something to entertain herself. But for as much of a wolf Mr. Gigantor might be, he at least could work under the pretext of being more of a gentleman than their first meeting might have suggested him capable of. Maybe there was more to him then brawns and a dashing grin. When he came back into view, she grinned widely at him and set a hand against his shoulder to rely on his strength for balance to free her dress and be pulled free. Dear Lord that man had large hands. Which might give a girl reason to wonder after something else, if she had not gotten a prolonged handful of him before to know exactly what he was working with. He might not have been any Superman, but he might only be lacking in the flying and purity department. Still clutching onto one of his shoulders, Brooke pulled down her dress and glanced up as he grinned at her. Peering her eyes at him skeptically, but the corners of her rouged lips curled up, “You better not be waiting for some Bond girl move, what was that… Sugar Hayes? First I’m a hooker and now I’m an adult film star. Don’t you know how to flatter a girl. It’s good you’re too handsome for any self-disrespecting girl to care. Alright, but I’m not going anywhere without my heels.” Glancing over her shoulder to locate them just off, she looked at his body analytically and then nodded decidedly. “If you let me go the only Jack showing me any fun is going to be out of a bottle.” Shifting in his grasp to face away from him, she slipped her fingers behind the security of his belt just in case and bent forward to grab her first strappy heel to slide it on and set her foot down on the disgusting ground with a clack. Releasing him and sliding down his front to stretch around for the other, Brooke just snatched it up and stood straight. Lifting her foot off of his and grabbing his arm for balance, as she pulled that one on too without paying much attention, she nodded at him. “Okay, good boys deserve treats. What did you have in mind? Shall I flash you now, or later?”

[Jackson Taylor Kincaid]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i55.tinypic.com/qrn0oy.jpg) ] If I Go Crazy will you still call me Superman? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Hooker/Porn Star/Bond girl…Brooke had the body for either of the three. Jack let his gem colored eyes ghost down her frame again, pausing decisively at each pivotal part before lifting to her pixie smirk. He couldn’t decide which part was best. Why even try? And the word handsome tumblin’ out of her velvet lips made his turn up at the corner all boyish. She called him handsome. Out of a mouth like that it always hit the man like a fist to the jaw. His chest puffed up a little, his smile went sideways, a hand lifted through his artfully tousled black hair. The word ‘heels’ had the opposite effect on the man however, and he found himself wincing in reverie of the head injury he’d sustained and was almost distracted from the hip he had his fingers locked around. Almost. Jackson furrowed his brow a little in momentary bemusement, his tongue getting all moist for the whiskey Brooklyn had brought up until she went and twisted around, reaching for the sharp heeled weapon and consequently thrusting her goods against his middle. Unbidden a husky growl rose up from his throat and Jack put more pressure on her hip; as if to remind the chocolate haired lil' fae just who she was playing with. A brow lofted over his mischievous stare and the free hand found the hem of her dress; lifting it to steal another look at her secret. He had never been accused of being a gentle man, but then again he was no monster. Speaking of monster, by the time she slithered low, low, low over his thighs and planted her ass on his ankles to reach her other heel, the growl was echoing in his throat again and his fangs working to push out of the lower gums. It happened sometime when he lost his cool; when his instincts tried to rule the beast. And man…it was getting hotter and hotter by the minute. “Loa…she tryin’ to send me to you without mah wits…” Jack let his head drop against his neck and prayed out to one of his voodoo deities, snapping back to attention once the pixie had shifted off his feet and absently addressed him. The man smirked in response, patting the arm she had casually left resting on his bicep. “You think Jack’s that easy, huh Cookie?” He grinned wide and shook his head, pretending to be uninterested and tugging absently at the rolled up sleeve on his other arm. “You can treat me latah’…what I had in mind isn’t for pryin’ ears. Why don’t I just show you...” Jackson lifted a big palm to cover Brooke’s, holding it there as he turned them around and ambled out of the alley. “Less you a skeerdy cat…” He steered them towards his motorcycle, letting go of her hand and sitting against it nice and comfy with his arms crossed over his wide chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. “You not scared are you Brooklyn?” And to emphasize his teasing he waggled his brows and uncrossed his arms, reaching with one to pat the seat behind him. “This leather’s gotchoo name all over it. Come on, Boo…it’ll kiss your ass just right. Let it kiss you." He grinned wide again, puckering up his lips at her and then smirking. Oh. He did love to play with her. Fo' Brooke. Whocareshowmanywords. OUTFIT. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[brooke]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,23,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i51.tinypic.com/2hxorb8.png');,true] you can never know what to expect you're manic Naturally, a woman should have given Jackson a right smack for being so fresh, lifting the hem of Brooke’s dress up as he did to get another peek at her ‘unmentionables’. Even for being called a hooker already tonight, and offering herself in essentially the same way, Brooklyn Hayes was at least raised to expect men to be gentlemen. She just knew better, or worse of the most chivalrous among their sex from experience. So even if she noticed that he had done so, and was not preoccupied with getting her sandals, Brooke would not have been surprised. When it came down to it, she had been far more brazen with him upon their first encounter. Even if she did not plan on ever being fair with guys, she could not be surprised that he would think that was okay. She might wonder if those bright eyes had ever known rejection. So yes, to be honest, she did think he was that easy. Because he expected the same from her. Tonight he was not wrong. She would not know if pulling away would make a difference in following him, when his hand clasped over hers and he led her to a motorcycle nearby. It did not occur to her right now to be scared. To be concerned at all about following a guy more than twice her size to his ride, especially one who was using physical encouragement for her to go with him. She simply laughed an enthusiastic little musical rift, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrified.” She joked, but under normal circumstances she might just be. Watching him intently, having almost completely forgotten that only moments before she was crawling out of a night club window and that her friends should care by now where she had gotten off to, she continued to grin at him as he leaned against the bike and drawled at her in that Cajun accent she had come to be familiar with every so often in these parts. Shaking slightly again with laughter, she nodded. “That sounds great to me; why don’t you leave us a moment alone and we’ll see where it leads?” Looking over the seat and quirking her brow and pursing her lips, she looked back at him. “But unless you’re willing to surrender those keys again, I can’t be sure how much it’ll do for me between my legs.” Narrowing her eyes at him playfully, she stepped up, resting her hand on his thigh for stability as she pulled her dress up just enough to pull her leg over the back part of the seat. Sliding down slightly to lean snugly into his side, she grinned at him over his shoulder. “So I guess I’ll just have to wait one of you” She ‘decided’, her hand resting lightly on the seat of his slacks.

[Jackson Taylor Kincaid]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i55.tinypic.com/qrn0oy.jpg) ] If I Go Crazy will you still call me Superman? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Brooke was a feisty little nymph wasn’t she? But flirty and feisty as she might be, the necromancer knew the woman had a brain in her head and had the mind to decide just how far his charm would go. No, Jack wasn’t used to rejection and wasn’t expecting it from her tonight either, but if she believed him to be the kind of man that would try to persuade a woman to do things she didn’t want, well, then the little firecracker really didn’t know him at all. Not that those of the female persuasion usually had to be coaxed all that much. Jack was a tad too playful on occasion…okay perhaps more often than not, but he enjoyed a woman’s intelligence as much as he did her body. Sometimes given the deep southern accent and GQ appearance people could all too easily forget this man had graduated with honors at a reputable university and had been offered a teaching job at said academy; that he was as brilliant as he was cocky and roughish. Perhaps this was because he didn’t want people to assume him to some kind of hoity-toity stiff. He liked it fine being just Jack. Jackson’s lip quirked up at Brooke’s request for alone time with his ‘baby’ and he loosed wry chuckle, remembering the rush that had surged through him upon their first meeting; when he’d watched her take the big black bike for a ride. Watching all that power controlled by one little pixie had near given him a hard-on. The sideways almost smile became a full-blown wily grin when she glided over, throwing a slender limb over the seat and using his leg to steady herself. If he didn’t think it’d get him a slap across the cheek he would have moved it over a little to give her a feel of what he could offer that the motorcycle couldn’t, but he had a mission and that kind of lively passion was liable to distract Jack from his plans. “I gotta’ give it to you. You got sass.” He commented, and his gem-colored eyes glistened in appreciation. “Too bad she’s gon’ get between your legs before I had a chance to. Y’all know there’s nothing like that powerful purring to get your motor revvin’.” Jackson took the opportunity to lean into her, smoothing his big palm up her tanned leg before sliding around in the seat proper like. He grabbed the helmet that had been hung from one of the handle bars and passed it over his shoulder, casting a glance back and giving her a wink. “Put that on if you wanna’ and hang on real tight, ya’ hear?” He didn’t really give her time to respond, kicking the sleek motorcycle into action and pulling out at a breakneck speed. On the sleek blacktop Jack gave in to the roar of power underneath him and the feel of all those oh-so-touchable curves pressed against his muscular back; letting his head fall back against his neck and closing his eyes for the briefest moment. The breeze through his thick black hair was like a kiss from divinity as they speed through town so fast that the structures lining the street blurred into nothing but hazy colors. The pulse-pounding pace was nothing new to the man, as he often used this form of travel, but it never failed to get the wild horses in his chest all riled up and thundering around. They weren’t just riding; they were racing with the wind. “Wooooohoooo!” The young man howled as he steered the bike to the right, cutting a sharp corner that had Brooke cling to him even tighter. He cast a bright grin over his shoulder at her and hoped that she was enjoying the ride as much as he was; especially since those tight thighs wrapped around his felt like heaven and the swell of her breast teased his back with every bump and turn. The busy neighborhoods melted into one another as Jackson sped through the stop and go traffic of the city. Finally, the stark lights of the metropolis gave way to the outskirts of the city, and beneath a waning moon, they chased the shadows. The houses turned into rows of trees, and Jack steered the bike into a darkened cemetery. He had to chuckle when they slowed, pulling through a rusted, crumbling rod iron fence as a flash of lightening lit up the sky. "We're here." he cut off the engine and glanced back, winking his blue-green eyes and lofting his brows a few times for effect. Fo' Brooke. Whocareshowmanywords. OUTFIT. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.