15097/A Feast at Lux

A Feast at Lux
Date of Scene:	17 May 2023
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	Satana accepts Lucifer's offer and comes to the club for a meal...of the succubus' liking.
Cast of Characters:	Satana, Lucifer, Sinister

---

Satana has posed:
So what does the well-dressed succubus wear when hitting a club run by the Devil Himself to find food? Most people would think something skimpy. Something that barely manages to contain the ... ah ... assets, shall we call them, of the hunting temptress. Most succubi would probably think that, in fact.

Satana is not most people, nor even most succubi. No, Satana has her own unique take on things, and this unique take involves...

...neck to ankle coverage.

...

In terms of fabric covering her, what Satana is wearing would nearly qualify as an abaya, indeed verging on a full-on burqa.

But this is Satana, naturally, and "modesty" is not in her vocabulary. (Well, OK, it is in her vocabulary. Under the heading of "boring words which should be eschewed".) So while the wide-sleeved crimson, multi-layered gown she's wearing does cover her from throat to ankle, the individual layers are very thin and clingy, giving eyefuls of her form, and each layer has seemingly-random patches of so diaphanous they might as well be transparent panels that interact in ways that make it look, as she moves, like their movements will coincide to see the "naughty" parts of her ... without ever quite delivering. Bare flesh is always on display as the diaphanous panels intersect, but they always seem to separate JUST before a big reveal.

Because the Hell Lord temptress knows that almost showing will bring more eyes on her for longer than showing, and will bring far more sinful thoughts bubbling to the surface.

Tasty sinful thoughts that will damn souls who die in her tender embrace later on.

Having made her entrance and enjoying the wave of sinful thought it brought with her, Satana sashays slowly, gathering more eyes as she does--eyes bringing with them the sins she so desires: lust, envy, some greed, and, in one case that catches her eyes, even wrath.

"Where has this place been all my life!" she murmurs to herself as she works her way up to the bar.

Lucifer has posed:
And so the next night is upon Lux, which even for a Tuesday is doing well a couple hours into opening. The alcohol is flowing, patrons are conversing or dancing - or watching the naked cage dancers around the dance floor. The DJ spins modern tunes as that's the way Lucifer likes it - nothing that doesn't draw an in crowd. A lot of the elite are rich business types, a scattering of those who built themselves from the ground up. All in all, it's business as usual, and everyone their part to play.

As much as Sinister was enjoying the blonder side of Lucifer, tonight he wears his other visage. The usual visage of black slicked back hair, intense blue eyes, olive tanned skin and slender of figure. He wears his soot black three piece suit which fits against him in a most immaculate manner, red undershirt and a similar red handkerchief tucked into his left breast pocket. He stands, as he always does, in the little nook at the top of the spiral stairwell. His spot, per se, as it allows him to watch both above and below and when he begins to feel a spike in all things sinful, his gaze shifts to the doors where Satana just walked through. A little twitch of a smirk pulls at the edges of his lips while he plucks a whiskey from a passing waitress' tray and takes a slow sip.

Oh yeah. Tonight is going to be *fun*.

Sinister has posed:
Now that? That is rather like watching the dance of the seven veils played out solely in the imagination of every onlooker and without a single peppy twirl and with considerably less Sultans abounding, unless one counts the inestimable Host. Many do, however.

Nathaniel Essex looks like a movie star at the moment; the glossy black hair, tied at the nape of his neck so the shoulder length mass just tickles his mandarin collar. Silver screen good looks, young, impossibly built, with storm grey eyes that are currently watching the measurements of mankind all around. He doesn't sup off the largesse and indulgence the way the hellions do, but this is no less a dining experience for him, mostly in things that neither Lucifer nor Satana would know to what-of. Not without a helpful dollop of drawing it out, at least.

He has a hurricane at hand, the purplish red cocktail glowing just slightly in the blacklight.

Much like he does. There's a quality just beneath the skin that makes him seem to shimmer in the right light. He looks to the door moments -before- the entry and there is a wry half-smile on the man's face.

Satana has posed:
Satana scans the club, looking for its owner, frowning a moment and, after a subtle hand gesture, scans again. This time her eyes fall on Lucifer rather than seeing through him and passing him by. Eyebrows climb and a subtle, grudging nod of professional respect is offered. She adjusts her course to intercept, picking up an expensive drink freshly delivered to a table and, as protests barely even begin, a quick look at the once-recipient quells the sounds in the throat as the woman stares at Satana blankly.

"She'll have another one," the demon says to the server. "This one is mine. She's paying."

The woman nods blankly in time to the motion of Satana's left index finger.

The little interlude completed she sidles up to the Prince of Darkness.

"This club is magnificent," she says. "And you look like one of the smarter incubi in my realm."

It's probably meant as a compliment, given her bearing and facial expression.

"I'm going to have to be careful or I'll be getting fat and slow here."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer watches everything as he usually does when he first arrives. Taking in those who are here, the familiar who come almost nightly, the newbies who have never stepped foot within before, and all those in between. The swell of *sin* that nearly explodes at Satana's entrance is taken in as well - for perhaps just a moment of delight to the Devil himself.

Nathaniel's regarded with a side eye, his own smirk forming as the other man smirks himself. Though he's not going to go play pleasentries with his better half just yet. Mostly because he's soon joined by the succubus herself who has a fresh drink in hand.

He sips his whiskey.

"Well. I do try. I have to make an example for most of the people here, no?" Asking this as he looks over and down-up to Satana before giving what may be a single nod of approval. As if she needs it. "I told you, did I not? Let it never be said that Lucifer Morningstar does not deliver precisely as he promises. And I doubt you'll get fat and slow here, but I do know you'll never spend a night hungry. Course, you'll probably find other places to dwell aside from here. Can't have you getting bored of the place after all."

There's a pause, a glance to the dance floor. "You look lovely tonight, by the by. Ripe for the harvest as it were."

Sinister has posed:
But she is the sickle, not the juicy, succulent peach. The praying mantis beautifully camouflaged in subtle shadows and scintillating alure. And she steals drinks. There's a snort from Sinister at the observation and he studies the woman that got herself bewitched there for a good few moments in studious silence. Then, with a stretch and a graceful collection of his drink, he sips as he walks, stalking through the crowds of people with not so much as a glance to any of them and never a mis-step. They simply are not where he is a moment afterwards -- out of his way, out of his path. He draws closer to the hellions, but never too close; no, now it's his time to find a barstool to slide upon and observe...

...and there's a lot to see.

Satana has posed:
"Oh, Lord Lucifer, your flattery will get you ..." Satana's eyes briefly flare, for Lucifer's eyes only, with Hellfire. "... anywhere you want." That last spoken with a second voice, almost, but not quite, a full octave lower, adding presence and dissonance to her usually melifluous, thrilling contralto. A predatory grin wraps itself around her teeth. "I've always wondered what would happen were I to feed off the likes of an angel..."

For a moment she raises her hand, as if ready to try. The hand pauses and lowers itself.

"But I'm no fool," she says breezily, back to the contralto by itself. "There's no way I could rein in the power I'd get and while I was distracted in trying you'd swat me aside like a bug as I immolated. And where's the fun in that?"

She tilts her head, and the smile shifts from predatory to sultry. "There's more fun ways for you to swat me. To let go."

A deep (and to any onlookers very distracting as panels interact in licentious ways) breath follows and she turns to face the dance floor.

"I've never understood the appeal to dancing," she confesses. "I mean really, all it is is fucking set to music."

Beat.

"I can't abide music."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer takes in a breath, long and deep, but somehow also quite subtle. That flash of hellfire in her eyes draws the Devil for a brief moment as his eyes flash in return. The rise and fall of her voice, the near seeming attempt to feed from him...

All sundered in a moment of her own choosing and leaving Lucifer to sort of stand there a bit sidetracked before he focuses on words again and allows a grin to form on his lips. "I am but a fly on a wall to the ways of your workings, Daughter of Darkness. And there are other things I can do than flick you away or swat you off..." What those things are will be his secret to keep unless she pushes a bit too hard. Right now, it seems like she's just getting her rocks off with him as the current target.

This gets a raised finger while he sips on his whiskey again. "Also, I am not your target. You have an entire clubs worth of willing participants. Aside, what you just said is the very appeal to dancing. Fucking set to music. Well, more like dry humping until one finds themselves a suitable partner. Then, if all goes well, or there's enough alcohol involved...fucking happens. Sometimes in a booth. Sometimes in a room." Sometimes right there on the floor...but that hasn't happened in a long while.

"Shame you can't abide music. I happen to like it, in a lot of it's forms. I sometimes even play for the club...when the muse descends..."

Sinister has posed:
Ooooh, clever girl. Sinister leans a little forward at the power play that begins to titillate, tantilate and torment with equal brushstrokes. Does he observe that shimmering peek-a-boo of cunning fabric? Oh, yes. The way a chest heaves, the way it stills, the way...

The demoness or the devil? It could honestly be either. A cigarette is taken out of a silver case; black papered. It's lit, sucked on with a slow, deliberate purpose, then exhaled dragonstyle as he idly twirls people out of his line of sight with subtle finger movements.

He tilts his head though, the study going from the pair, to the onlookers, face by face. The ones that want more than just a slice of the pie will get more than they bargained for, no doubt. But he looks mildly disgusted at public dancefloor fornication. Frankly, that's sticky and probably unhygenic.

Satana has posed:
Satana looks almost disappointed. Though amused. "It was a joke, Star of the Morning. I adore music. Mostly in how it, when carefully selected, removes inhibitions from the human animal. Yes, some of it can elevate..." She says that word like it's a dirty word. "...the spirit, but most of it doesn't. It induces lust. Or wrath. Or greed. Or sloth. Or any of my favourite taints. Though I'm most enamored, naturally, of lust and wrath. Ideally combined."

Her eyes stray to the dance floor again.

"I don't mind spectators when I feed," she offers as her eyes zero on on a customer.

Known to Lucifer. Frequent attendee. A 'self-made' billionaire, though those in the know will know that he wasn't self-made; that he got a fortune from his slave-owning father that he built up through deceit and abuse.

The billionaire, and apparently Satana's target, is with his very public girlfriend of the year. But his eyes, his covetous eyes, are on Satana right now. Filled with lust and greed.

"Mmmmm... That one does look a tender little morsel," she purrs. She rests a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, pressing up against him in a display of very public affection; a private performance for her target's eyes. A wave of envy and wrath flares from him.

And beside Lucifer the succubus quivers like ... wait ... did she just...?

"Oh, my, that ..." Her face is flushed. Her breath ragged and laboured. "... He's mine."

Those final two words spoken with the dual voice again.

Lucifer has posed:
"I was hoping such, but one can never be too careful. Also, I'm still learning your tells." Lucifer offers after Satana claims her words about music were a joke. Eyes are on the dance floor as people are enjoying the tunes of whatever the DJ is playing.

A few could have been targets for the succubus, and when she picks one out there's a grin. A flash of hellfire in his own eyes. "Clever girl. He's hell bound for sure...sins of the father and all that..." Then eyes are on them as billionaire strays his gaze for a moment. It was enough of a moment, and Lucifer plays his part by actually encircling Satana's waist with his closer arm. Lean his head in as if about to kiss her, but really he simply whispers in her ear, "Go get him."

Depth perception is a bitch from the vantage point given and it very well could have looked like -anything- from what the man was seeing. Lucifer waits for Satana to move before he takes a moment to settle himself and then he downs the rest of his whiskey and makes a straight line to wherever Nathaniel has settled himself. Immediately taking a seat across from him, and liking the fact that he can still see the dance floor. Watch her work.

"You and I are going to have some interesting nights ahead..." Spoken in a low, dark tone. Almost as if he simply growled the words.

Sinister has posed:
"That... was something I was not expecting to feel, vicariously..." Sinister responds as the seat near to him is taken, occupied for the proximity? Or the intention. Both most likely. Cracking his neck left and right with a set of pops, he matches it with a double wrist flick that crackles most satisfyingly and leans both arms along the back of the seating, leaning into the shadow and the auspices of the Morningstar.

"Promises, promises. I like the ones that I know you intend to keep..." the smile in the shadows is the one of a fellow that can appreciate the anticipation. "She is -talented- isn't she?"

He takes his eyes off of Satana long enough to KNOW that he's going to see the glow in Lucifer's regard and the smile grows wider, wickedly dimpled. "But you my dear? Just soak it all in. It's been a long while..."

Satana has posed:
The ballroom blitz is almost brutal for one so soft and rounded. Satana departs Lucifer's side without so much as a glance his way, her eyes fixed on the victim--one Garrick Flux, tech mogul and all-round banality made manifest--as she slithers her way through the writhing bodies in her path, eyes fixed on the entreprenerd with his badly-concealed (from her) secret sins. Upon her arrival she simply slips into place in front of him, displacing his too-young arm candy girlfriend whose protest is stilled by a glance and a hand gesture. Listlessly the woman leaves the dance floor, rebounding off other dancers until she reaches the edge at which point she just stands statue-like staring blankly into space.

The same cannot be said for Garrick. He is staring too, yes, but it is with intense focus at the package of raw sensuality now rhythmically writhing before him, carefully edited to be the literal girl of his dreams.

The dance starts off at a distance with his nerdy strut circling her licentious display before she reaches out and grabs him by his loosened tie and pulls him in against her.

The lambada never really seems to have gone out of fashion if her current performance is anything to go by.

Physical contact gets closer and closer until, for all practical purposes, they are two bodies inhabiting the same physical space. His hands dare all, over, then under, the folds of her gown. Her nails bite into his flesh, at the neck, while his knee grinds between hers.

The dance ends in a kiss as the song retires in favour of the next. A whisper in his ear and ...

Elvis has left the building. Check that. Garrick has left the dance floor, guiding Satana to the suite he holds in reserve for just such an occasion.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer lofts a brow and for one brief moment his eyes leave the dance floor to look at Sinister directly. "I don't make promises I can't keep..." His eyes are still burning with that hellfire, and his grin is as devilish as it is beaming.

Eyes go back to the dance floor to watch. To see the girlfriend get easily cast aside for something fresher. Dare to say better. The music that plays is enough to send them into a lustful frenzy and hands go *everywhere* to the point that it almost seems like lover boy is going to run out of wheres to go.

A dance, a tug, a kiss and then...they're gone. Lucifer actually shivers and then holds up a single finger and simply says, "Wait for it."

Sinister has posed:
"I know," that much is whispered. The drink is taken in Sinister's hands, the hurricane finished in slow, steady pulls as his gaze lifts. Not that the demoness can see it, but the flame of a dying star, that ominous, red glow takes the core of his pupil and spreads slowly over the iris and sclera as he gazes toward the hotel area. His right hand takes out his phone, setting it on the table and a single fingertip lightly caresses the screen, sending the device absolutely haywire with the datastreams.

This is Lucifer's club. He isn't the most techsavvy of celestial beings, but his lover -is-. His lover is a technopath, that wired extra security, extra eyes into this building. There aren't cameras in the rooms, but they sure as heck are in the corridors. That one. Turn up the volume. Hit record. Hit transmit. This particular soundbyte may have to be analyzed using some highly savvy algorithms later; to see if the sound of a soul's evacuation from its mortal coil has a recognizable sound. For science.

"Oh, that's going to be beautiful..."

Satana has posed:
The video shows that things are going swimmingly for the demonic lust shark.

OK, bad metaphor.

The doomed Garrick (this is foreshadowing--always a sign of quality literature; ask for foreshadowing wherever you buy your reading needs!) is all over Satana, and Satana is pretending quite ably to be fending him off while somehow only managing to get even more entangled and pressed up against him.

They almost don't make it in his door as Garrick presses Satana against it an starts to raise the hem of the gown, desperately fumbling at something not visible on the feed, but let's face it, it's his zipper. Satana slides down before him, to her spread knees, ready to do something unseemly and public ... only to have her elbow 'accidentally' jostle the handle, causing the pair of them to tumble, laughing, into the suite.

The door closes.

Those who may be attuned to these matters will feel a rising crest of lust. A tide of pleasure that fills the senses in that subtle domain as Garrick is given his final reward for his life of service.

The pleasure turns to pain, then to fear, then to desperation, and finally to despair. The last thoughts Garrick has before his soul courses into Satana are ... "What have I done?"

Inside the room, Garrick's soul collects into a purple creature, rather like a butterfly in appearance, before Satana's hungry mouth. It disappears into her hungry gullet to be turned into her nourishment. And Lucifer, naturally, can feel the wisp that remains, that she excretes, screaming its way down to Hell for his eternal reward.

The dried husk of Garrick Flux, lying ridiculously against the foyer wall, partially exposed, face a rictus mask of fear and pain, falls over to the left as Satana rises, checks her nonexistent makeup in the mirror, straightens her gown, and, stepping over her victim, walks out of the suite and back into the video feed.

"Was it fun?" she asks the camera, looking straight at it with a feral grin, oozing well-fed satisfaction (and, were people there in person, bodily fluids, but that's for a later conversation).