Jeremiah Gottwald (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
canceller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robodicking2020-07-05 10:25 pm
canceller) wrote in robodicking2020-07-05 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
I don't hardly know you but I'd be willing to show you
[The call from downstairs comes about two minutes before the hour. It’s, in effect, precisely on time, though he’s been prepared for a while just in case this client turned out to be one of those early arrivers. Jeremiah’s had those types before, eager just for the extra time they’d happily proclaim they’d compensate for, but it would catch him off guard if he didn’t plan for it. Being made to wait too late after their appointed time would leave him irritable, too, particularly for a first meeting, but the promptness of this is reassuring. He thanks reception and has them send up the client, marking his place and setting his book on the shelf, sliding off the window seat to check himself in the full-length mirror.
He’s picked a white, airy shirt, cut in a mandarin collar and open to about mid-torso where the first of the row of buttons actually sits, the sleeves rolled up in neat folds. Tan slacks, tailored precisely enough that there’s no need for a hindering belt, and fortunately when he turns he finds no unsightly creases down his back and legs. His slip on shoes are embroidered, but far from his most garish pair, worn without socks and practical enough with the swell of heat marking the later days of spring. It’s made him turn to baring a little more skin than usual, save for the regulars who always have him in full dress, and the effect seems to draw the eye well enough. There’s a feverishness that comes over some people in the warmer months, and Jeremiah loves seeing what feeding that fire will do, not exactly immune to the feeling himself.
Curiosity still sits heavy in his mind, tinged only minorly with some reasonable doubt towards his choices. It’s a bit of a long shot with someone new, unsure of a person’s tastes before he meets them with only basic information. Their clientele base is exclusively upper crust, but there’s never any telling how proper or not their ideal image is. Predictably enough, the older end of his spectrum usually prefer formality, younger ones prefer casual dress, even though it’s far from a rule. He’s been booked with someone well on the young side, so flirty and light it is.
And even if it does end up being a miss, it won’t matter for very long. Jeremiah fixes his hair first, then his collar, debates a necklace that compliments the honey topaz studs in his lobes, decides against it. The trio of thin, open bangles on one wrist and a wide gold band on his pinky feel like balance enough. Villetta’s accused him of overdoing it lately, even though he most assuredly has not been, not like he used to. Besides, what is he to do with the tokens and gifts he’s collected over the years? Let them gather dust in a box?
Like clockwork, a knock comes and he turns away from his reflection, striding just a few steps closer to the doors as they swing inwards, pushed by a familiar face from their staff. His company for the evening, perhaps well into the night, steps in past them, the doors shutting not long after. Jeremiah smiles, taking him in and already liking what he sees.]
Good afternoon, Mr. Lamperouge. [Not much of a thought as to whether or not it’s his real surname. It often is, it often isn’t. It’s the name on the booking, and that’s all that matters.] Or would you prefer “Lelouch?”
He’s picked a white, airy shirt, cut in a mandarin collar and open to about mid-torso where the first of the row of buttons actually sits, the sleeves rolled up in neat folds. Tan slacks, tailored precisely enough that there’s no need for a hindering belt, and fortunately when he turns he finds no unsightly creases down his back and legs. His slip on shoes are embroidered, but far from his most garish pair, worn without socks and practical enough with the swell of heat marking the later days of spring. It’s made him turn to baring a little more skin than usual, save for the regulars who always have him in full dress, and the effect seems to draw the eye well enough. There’s a feverishness that comes over some people in the warmer months, and Jeremiah loves seeing what feeding that fire will do, not exactly immune to the feeling himself.
Curiosity still sits heavy in his mind, tinged only minorly with some reasonable doubt towards his choices. It’s a bit of a long shot with someone new, unsure of a person’s tastes before he meets them with only basic information. Their clientele base is exclusively upper crust, but there’s never any telling how proper or not their ideal image is. Predictably enough, the older end of his spectrum usually prefer formality, younger ones prefer casual dress, even though it’s far from a rule. He’s been booked with someone well on the young side, so flirty and light it is.
And even if it does end up being a miss, it won’t matter for very long. Jeremiah fixes his hair first, then his collar, debates a necklace that compliments the honey topaz studs in his lobes, decides against it. The trio of thin, open bangles on one wrist and a wide gold band on his pinky feel like balance enough. Villetta’s accused him of overdoing it lately, even though he most assuredly has not been, not like he used to. Besides, what is he to do with the tokens and gifts he’s collected over the years? Let them gather dust in a box?
Like clockwork, a knock comes and he turns away from his reflection, striding just a few steps closer to the doors as they swing inwards, pushed by a familiar face from their staff. His company for the evening, perhaps well into the night, steps in past them, the doors shutting not long after. Jeremiah smiles, taking him in and already liking what he sees.]
Good afternoon, Mr. Lamperouge. [Not much of a thought as to whether or not it’s his real surname. It often is, it often isn’t. It’s the name on the booking, and that’s all that matters.] Or would you prefer “Lelouch?”