Hello guest! (Level: guest) Log in

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Chapter One: Ink and Instinct

The Velvet Room pulsed like a living thing — lowlights, deep bass, and bodies that moved as if guided by shared electricity. In Soho, this bar was more than a refuge; it was a ritual. A place where the lines between searching and hiding blurred.

Elise Harper leaned against the polished mahogany of the bar, her blazer sharp against the scuffed edge of the stool. She held her Negroni like it was a question and she was waiting for an honest answer. Her eyes, warm brown but always analytical, scanned the room with a quiet detachment that masked something closer to hope.

She wasn't looking. Not really. She told herself she didn't come here for that.

And then she saw her.

The girl — no, the woman — strode into the room like she owned every whispered rumor that followed her in. Bleached blonde pixie cut streaked with electric blue, tattoos curling around her neck like a private alphabet, and a presence that hit like a sucker punch to the chest.

She laughed — not at anyone in particular, just at life, maybe — and Elise felt something shift.

The woman moved toward the bar, a storm contained in soft cotton and black denim, and came to rest beside Elise as if the universe had planned it that way.

She didn't say hello. She just offered a sideways smile, unapologetically bold.

"You look like you're interviewing the room," she said, voice rough-edged and lyrical — French, maybe?

Elise arched an eyebrow, amused. "Force of habit."

"Journalist?" the woman guessed, leaning her elbow on the bar, gaze never leaving Elise's face.

"Freelance," Elise replied. "You?"

The woman's grin widened, slow and dangerous. "Trouble."

Elise laughed — short, surprised. "Does that pay well?"

"Depends who's buying."

The bartender slid Elise another drink. She picked it up but didn't sip, eyes lingering on the tattoo that peeked from under the woman's shirt — a line of text inked just beneath her collarbone.

"You always stare at strangers this way?" the woman asked, unbothered.

"Only when their skin is full of stories," Elise said.

The woman leaned in, their faces inches apart. "All the best ones are permanent."

Elise's mouth curved into a smirk. "You going to tell me one?"

"Only if you help me write the next chapter."

The words hung in the air between them, absurd and irresistible.

Elise glanced down, then back up. "I'd insist on editorial input."

Laughter. Real, unguarded. It spilled between them like a secret.

They didn't make a plan, didn't exchange names. Just proximity, glances, touches that lingered too long. At some point, Camille — she said it offhandedly between sips of whiskey — pulled Elise into a shadowed booth. Their knees touched beneath the table, a silent dare.

Click here to read the rest of this story (109 more lines)

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Elise Harper (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Elise Harper, incl. 1 stories Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email Recommend stories for further reading

Give your opinion about this story: select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)

Send feedback to this author: Your name: Your message to Elise Harper:     (You are not logged in, so you can't send private messages) Public: post this message in the public feedback below