' YOU'RE SHAMELESS, dean !

[audreywestwood]

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Audrey Mae often wondered how she had landed a job like this. Dealing with people, smiling, pretending to be nice and getting tips and nice little pats on the ass by old men whose wives were no longer putting out. It was people who made her uncomfortable, and those very same people who were keeping the lights on every month. It was a vicious cycle.

Dolce was always busy, always bustling and she was always hustling and there was always a recognizable face in the crowd of many. She didn’t watch much television, no, but it would have been silly to not know a celebrity when she saw them. Living in Vegas was a culture shock. She had been born and raised in a dusty little bubble with her mother to light her way. Now she was paving the path all her own, resisting the urges to stutter and ask for an autograph here and there. It had gotten easier over the years, of course, but there was always that one person she couldn’t get enough of. There was always that one famous face she couldn’t believe she was sharing air with. But she knew how to smile and she knew how to act and that was what this world was all about.

Audrey’s closet had always been filled with clothes she had never needed, cute little dresses that showed off lean legs and curvy body. She would spend time in front of mirrors, twirling and smiling at the soft fabrics against her bare skin. Of course she had taken them with her, had filled her whole closet to the brim, to the point of bursting at the seams. She hardly wore them, no place to go in the fancy attire. So she was happy playing dress up like she used to, in wobbly heels that raised her up another four and a half inches on her already tall frame. Getting a job at Dolce had been the best thing to happen for her fashion sense. Finally, somewhere to show off that gorgeous body she usually hid behind baggy jeans and sweatshirts she could swim in. She had fun with it. Seemed everyone else had a bit of fun, as well.

Getting ready for work was easy enough; she usually had a few hours to do just that, though she hardly ever needed as much time. A simple black dress covered her frame, falling just above her knees. It clung to her frame, a deep v down the front that showed plenty of cleavage, with three quarter length sleeves and a thick satin band around her waist to emphasize her thin figure. She had always appreciated her own body: the breasts that were just a little over a handful each and perky enough to not need a bra, the round little butt that swayed when she moved, those long legs that went on forever. She was certainly cute, even she could admit to that one.

Of course, if she kept looking at herself in the mirror, she was definitely going to be late for work.

She spoke casually with a few of the waitresses as she stood behind her podium, feeling ever so important balanced on those black heels that helped her easily tower over most of the women she worked with and worked around. It had gotten much easier to walk around in heels when she practiced. She had tripped up enough in front of too many important people. The reservation book lay open in front of her, eyes having only taken a quick glance when she had first checked in that late afternoon. Her shift started at six and she worked all through the night. Luckily, she had managed to get herself out of helping close up. Though, that wasn’t difficult when you were smart. And had a rack like hers. Her boss was such a man.

Another look and Audrey was inwardly groaning. The one man she couldn’t pull herself together around had reservations in her restaurant. And he was bringing a date. The ‘party of two’ note beside his name brought a scowl to her usually pretty face. Might as well get all the bad feelings over with before the costumers started to arrive. That was never good for business. She wallowed in her own miserable self pity for a moment or two before she collected herself. She looked damn good and that was all she was going to think about.

“You’re beautiful, Audrey Mae,” she whispered softly to herself, though she heard her mother’s cigarette roughened voice in her head.
“You’re hot, Audrey Mae,” a passing waitress exclaimed in reply, a laugh on her lips. Well, that always helped, too. With a newly fastened smile on her face, she was ready to take on the world.

And maybe Dean Braxton, as well.

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STATUS // donneee.
TAGS // dean is so yummmyyy.
WORDS // 807
LYRICS // don't trust me - 3OH!3
CREDIT // this superfantastical template was made by ZOESTOLEYOURCAT of caution !

[DEAN BRAXTON]

she’s got me like nobody ,
NOW I WONT PROMISE YOU’RE MY ONLY ONE
BUT TONIGHT YOU’LL FEEL LIKE MY NUMBER ONE

The good thing about Las Vegas was that there was always a woman to be with, regardless of what day of the week it was, or how last minute it would be.

Tonight’s catch? Betsy Lee. Dean Braxton firmly believed that women with names like ‘Betsy Lee’ deserved to be taken out for dinner. Betsy was the receptionist at Dean’s publisher’s office, and though he’d seen Miss Lee various times on his visits, he’d kept her strictly off limits, due to the fact he’d be seeing her frequently, as long as Goulds was his publisher.

This afternoon’s visit sparked something different. Dean had been in a rather good mood all day, so when he heard poor Betsy Lee was going to be fired, he couldn’t help but feel the need to take the poor girl out. Granted, this wasn’t entirely for her benefit – she looked like the type who could get wild between the sheets, though not entirely fortunate when it came to her assets – but Dean was willing to take one for the team, or the greater good. Betsy Lee would inevitably get fired, but at least she’d remember it as taking place the night after the greatest fuck of her life, hands down.

He was willing to put money on that one.

So he invited the doll to dinner. He usually wasn’t too keen on inviting the flat ones to pre-orgasm festivities, but this seemed like a special case. Betsy Lee deserved it, he figured, so Betsy Lee would get it. Not only would she get it, but she’d get it at Dolce, one of his favorites. He may as well treat her, he thought. She was going to get fired, right after the greatest fuck of her life, and never see him again. She may as well have a good meal.

He’d offered to pick up dear Betsy Lee, but she insisted on meeting him at Dolce. At first, he was concerned, because a girl who wanted to take her own car to dinner meant that she had every intention of going home in her own car, sans shagging. He contemplated canceling, but only before he could was he so pleasantly informed that Betsy Lee wanted to be dropped off by her sister who was in town for the night. It seemed appropriate enough, so Dean remained complacent.

Betsy Lee would be fired after a good meal, which preceded the best fuck of her life, the night she didn’t get to spend with her sister who was in town for just a day.

Betsy Lee would probably need therapy after tonight.
Dean would probably send flowers – anonymous of course – and a few references.

It was just about time as Dean stood outside Dolce’s grand entrance, one hand in the pocket of his black slacks, the other rubbing the back of his neck, as his eyes darted for any sight of Betsy Lee. She wasn’t hard to miss, with her long black hair and small eyes, so there was little effort on Dean’s party anyway. His hand moved to his chest, where he unbuttoned one more button of his tucked-in white dress shirt, and then straightened the unbuttoned black vest on his torso. Dressing up for women was just another perk of nights like these.

Betsy Lee deserved it anyways.

“Deeeeeean!” Came the shriek from the other side of the street, and he watched keenly as the short female was unloaded from the car, and then darted across the street, wobbly in her mile-high heels. Her thin red dress clung to her body like second skin, which was a shame because the closer she came, the more aware he was of the fact that she was wearing the wrong kind of underwear.

Deciding ignorance was bliss, he straightened himself, steadying as Betsy Lee wiggled full force into his arms, and then sprung free with one very odd action. Dean chuckled, taking her hand as kissed the back of it, and then twirled her once with a playful intention.

Yep, definitely the wrong kind of underwear.

“You look wonderful,” he breathed, holding out his arm for her to take, and when she did, he smiled, beginning towards the door of the restaurant, which he then opened for her chivalrously.

Sauntering up to the host’s podium, Dean allowed his lips to curl up into a devious smirk, before vocalizing, “Braxton, for two.” And as his eyes lifted to acknowledge the young woman, Dean resolved something a bit unfitting, but devilishly tempting.

Maybe his beautiful hostess was a bit more deserving than Betsy Lee.

[audreywestwood]

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The evening seemed to progress slowly for Audrey. One costumer after another, names checked off in her book, but the list seemed to be never ending. Tonight was one of the busiest nights they’d had in awhile; perhaps people were getting over the recession faster than the news gave them all credit for. Of course, she reminded herself, this was Vegas. And if you couldn’t spend extravagantly in Sin City, you simply couldn’t do that anywhere else either.

Her cheeks were aching from the force of her permanent smile. She had no chance to wipe it clean, take a breather, relax for a moment and hold a cigarette between her lips with no intentions of actually smoking it. A habit. Her mother had always been a heavy smoker; the nasty little stick had a way of calming her down in the best way possible, without lighting up and taking a puff. Unless it was a special occasion, unless she wanted to break down and cry and scream. All very unlike her, you see. She much preferred to keep emotions such as though shoved as far down as she could. Cigarettes helped every now and then. Alcohol, too. A stiff drink always helped her mood.

”Welcome to Dolce. Do you have a reservation tonight?” she questioned for the umpteenth time that night, head cocked slightly to the side, big blue eyes giving the newest couple a once over. She saw this often, young girl barely able to drink (if she even was; sometimes Audrey really had to wonder) with a man nearly old enough to be her grandfather. A younger grandfather, but a grandfather nonetheless. She wondered how they could stand it; she wondered if the money and the clothes and whatever else they wanted was worth it in the end. Of course, for a few nice things such as that, she really had no idea what she’d do and continue to do.

”Right this way, your table’s ready,” and then she was off and heading down the aisle, feeling uncomfortable with every outwardly confident step she took. There were just so many people around her, too many people able to watch her every move. She knew some did, indeed, partake in that offer. Some even had the nerve to come up to her podium, flirt their little hearts out, beg for a number. She did her job, laughed sweetly and blushed modestly, but answered with a no and no further explanation. As long as she did what she did best, that was all she needed to do. They’d just have to take rejection and follow her to a table with their dates trailing behind. That was awfully classy.

Audrey left the couple with all the intentions of taking a break for her sanity. Instead, the podium was left unattended and, with a groan under her breath, she slipped back into position. The next costumer would be her last for at least another fifteen minutes. God did she need at least fifteen minutes.

Unfortunately, she had terrible timing.

There was no recognition in Dean’s eyes, but she was still speechless for a few long moments. He was so attractive, so sexy. And the way he spoke, the way he smirked; she could have simply melted right there at his feet. It would have been entirely too easy to get lost in his eyes. Instead, she snapped out of it and did her job.

”Good evening, Mr. Braxton. If you’ll just follow me, your table is ready and waiting.” So many she spoke in more of a purr than what was necessary. Maybe she was simply getting into her character. If he didn’t recognize, despite seeing her as often as he actually did, she wasn’t about to give away who she actually was. And while it did hurt a pinch that he didn’t quite know, she’d rather not be known for who she really was; a drooling, stuttering little fan girl who couldn’t keep her eyes off of him in the office. She checked off his name with a quick little movement, grabbed two menus, then turned and headed right back down the aisle, her small hips swaying all the while.

”Your waitress, Melissa, will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal,” she spoke one last time, once she had set the menus down on either side of the table. She flashed Dean one more smile, his date a less luminous one, before she easily slipped herself out of the restaurant and into the back. If she didn’t get that break now, she was sure she’d never have the brains to leave his table alone while he dined.

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STATUS // donneee.
TAGS // i'm actually feeling good about these posts ahahah.
WORDS // 776
LYRICS // don't trust me - 3OH!3
CREDIT // this superfantastical template was made by ZOESTOLEYOURCAT of caution !

[DEAN BRAXTON]

she’s got me like nobody ,
NOW I WONT PROMISE YOU’RE MY ONLY ONE
BUT TONIGHT YOU’LL FEEL LIKE MY NUMBER ONE

If only it wasn’t morally wrong to see two women in one night.

Unfortunately, not all women were so open to such ideas, and he was fairly sure Betsy Lee wouldn’t be too keen, though she probably wouldn’t say anything. Plus, it would ruin the ambiance of the whole night, and the memory of the night-before-she-was-fired mission he was trying to accomplish. If there was one thing known for sure about Dean Braxton, it was that when he made a promise, he would move the world to fulfill it.

And so on, and so forth. While Betsy Lee squirmed and spazzed beside him, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the hostess. There was a sort of familiarity in her that he couldn’t really place, but he excused it as the sort of familiarity he saw in most women, especially those he couldn’t take his eyes off of. She was the right kind of girl; probably just a year or two younger than he was, curved in the right places, classy but able to show what she was blessed with, and soft spoken, to an extent.

Betsy Lee was going to have to step up her game.
And even that was an understatement.

Though he wasn’t the type of man to outwardly leave his current date on the sidewalk and pursue a new woman right in front of her, he wished he was for a moment, especially as this particular hostess began to lead them towards their table, and all he was left with was the sway of her hips, and a tempting little derriere he was aching to –

No, Dean, no.

With his hand politely placed at the small of his date’s back, he guided her forward just a bit, allowing her to take his hand while they walked through Dolce, and to the table he’d specifically reserved. If he was going to do this, he’d do it right, but he didn’t want her to notice the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off their hostess. Wouldn’t that be the worst thing to remember the next morning?

Being the proper gentleman that he was, Dean pulled out Betsy Lee’s chair first and tucked it in behind her as she sat, and then moved around to seat himself. He tried with all of his might not to let his eyes stray, until the moment he’d been handed his menu, and Betsy was too busy fumbling with her purse. And here, Dean miraculously managed to compose himself, tilt his head up to the hostess, curl his lips upward into his trademark soft smile, and offer, “Thank you, so much,” all while looking directly into her eyes, hoping she’d feel as though she were the most important woman in the world, at least for that one moment.

Once she was gone, getting through dinner was a lot easier. Betsy Lee was bold enough to order mahi mahi sautéed in a garlic butter sauce, which was either a blatant statement of ‘no, I’d like to not sleep with you’ or ‘I’m naïve and simply don’t understand’ both of which Dean did not appreciate. But it was her night, and he wasn’t going to stand in her way.

About fifteen minutes into dinner, it was like God had personally winked and Dean and opened up the heavens for him. It all happened in a brisk five minutes, but he couldn’t have thought of a better five minutes in his life – or at least none that had occurred before about nine PM.

First, it had started with a distant buzzing, and then a muffled rendition of Korean rap – which had frightened him, to say the least – until finally, Betsy Lee pulled out her Blackberry, without even excusing herself from their present conversation. Dean took this moment to take a few bites of his steak, as Betsy had not stopped asking him questions for that long, and then watched as his date dropped her phone, shrieked, picked up her phone, shrieked, and dropped her phone again.

Several onlookers later and a desperate effort to get a few coherent words out of Betsy Lee through her shrieking, Dean was able to piece together the source of her breakdown.

Betsy Lee had just been fired, via e-mail.

It was a sad thing too, watching Betsy collect her things and apologize profusely for being a mess, and then storm out after nearly knocking a waiter’s tray off with her purse. He was left there, partly mortified, and partly in awe of fate, following her quickly out the door, pleading with her to get a hold of herself, offering to drive her home, and then watching her board a bus, and slip away into the night.

Well, that was that. Pulling Dolce’s front door open, Dean stopped in the lobby, one hand in his pocket while the other rubbed his face, trying to make sense of it all. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think about was the fact that he was dateless, just as he’d hoped when they’d arrived.

Now where had that lovely hostess gone?

[audreywestwood]

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The warm air had never felt so good against her flushed face as it did as soon as she stepped out into the back. It was thick and stale, like most of Vegas, clogged with pollution and brimming with disease. She loved this place, loved every waking moment of living there. The degradation of this city was awe inspiring. The unlit cigarette hung limply between her full lips, somehow sticking there despite the fact they were slightly parted. Eyes closed, she slumped her shoulders, whole body relaxing against the brick wall behind her. She had even taken off her shoes for the sake of being comfortable for a moment or two.

He had the perfect pair of bedroom eyes, she reflected dryly, letting out a heavy sigh. The air she forced through her legs pushed the cigarette from her lips and it fell to the ground below her. That had been enough to even her breathing, to steady her heartbeat. Dean made her go wild, made all of her senses that much stronger and he didn’t even know who she was. She was pathetic. She felt pathetic, anyway, though she knew better than to call herself such things. She was maning up, she was. She really had to, anyway. It was a much easier world to live in when she could think positively and act accordingly.

He really was a charmer. Audrey chuckled softly to herself as she slipped her feet back into those too-high heels, rolling her eyes before she pushed her way back in through the kitchen of the restaurant. She took her time, chatting idly with those she passed for a moment or two, trying her damn hardest to forget about the way Dean had looked at her. Of course she knew not to take it personal, knew not to think he only had eyes for her, even for the slightest of moments. She had read his book, after all, worked with him and knew his reputation and all of that. Didn’t stop her from crushing on the man, of course, didn’t stop her from wanting him as much as she did. She was simply cautious, a little weary if he ever decided to turn his eyes on her, ever felt so inclined to ask her out for dinner as a precursor to a romp in the sack. Or on the floor. Maybe in the shower. Oh, against a wall. From behind.

There were so many possibilities.

She shook her head, clearing the thoughts, before taking a long sip from the glass of water she had procured from seemingly nowhere. A glass was always waiting for her and that was the way she liked it. Sometimes it did pay off to be so damn pretty. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stand around forever and the time was ticking down for the end of her break. Too short, always too short, and soon enough she was damn slowly making her way back out to the front and to her podium. At least she was safe back there. Dean didn’t necessarily seem the type to simply pick up and go, not leave a woman without thoroughly manhandling her. That would have been out of character.

It was on her journey back to her stand when the alarming shrieks were sounded. Eyes widening in near horror, her head quickly turned towards the source. Dean’s date was distraught over something, spluttering something obviously unintelligible. She watched the scene, feeling almost bad for the man as he ran after her. Of course, not bad enough to not giggle behind one well manicured hand. She calmed herself in enough time to greet a party of four, all mumbling about the young lady and young man outside. Oh, perfect. He evening simply couldn’t have gotten better.

Or perhaps she spoke too soon.

Audrey Mae returned to the podium to find Dean look lost. She raised an eyebrow into her forehead, a smirk gracing her features. “I assume she caught wind of your reputation a little too late,” she couldn’t help but tease. He’d bounce back quickly, she knew. And she had this horrible little feeling she was going to somehow be involved.

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STATUS // donneee.
TAGS // bow chicka.
WORDS // 696
LYRICS // don't trust me - 3OH!3
CREDIT // this superfantastical template was made by ZOESTOLEYOURCAT of caution !

[DEAN BRAXTON]

she’s got me like nobody ,
NOW I WONT PROMISE YOU’RE MY ONLY ONE
BUT TONIGHT YOU’LL FEEL LIKE MY NUMBER ONE

She was right; he would bounce back. The thing was, he wasn’t too keen on having to go out of his way to find another girl to coax into coming home with him, nor was he willing to go so far on a limb and have to experience what he just had. Not only was it mortifying, but it left him with this stale feeling within him. He’d gone so far as to bring her to his favorite Italian restaurant, treat her to whatever the hell she wanted to eat, and indirectly promised to give her the best fuck of her life. It was amusing, really, how the night had played out.

Fortunately, Dean Braxton was not a man of regrets. No, with what he’d been through, he often resorted to simply looking at the best in situations, the silver lining of a dark cloud, whatever you may. And by this time, it came naturally to him. For Dean, not only had he been blessed with a wonderful dinner, but also he’d been treated to a wonderful show, and learned a plethora of lessons from this night, which he’d probably carry with him for years to come. Or at least days.

The most important lessons were to follow.

Lesson number one: never take Betsy Lees out to dinner, let alone make projects out of them. It simply wasn’t good for business, and at the end of the day, who knew if they’d actually put out? Dean truly, at heart, was a good guy, if one could get past his little, oh you know, obsession with sex. He respected women, he treated them well, he was never blatantly demanding – unless he was frequenting brothels – and he was never, ever rude. He knew he wasn’t doing Betsy Lee a favor, as most men would have seen it; rather, he was treating her to what he hoped would be a night to remember.

Well, he figured that much had been accomplished, and he hadn’t had much to do with it.

Lesson number two: never, ever, ever take out a woman who you see often. It simply wouldn’t work, to put it lightly. They tended to know too much about him, or think they did, which either upset Dean, or amused him to no end, usually ending in some sort of mockery. Plus, the aftermath of possibly having to see them again, and explain exactly why he didn’t call or why he didn’t want to go out on another date wasn’t the sort of thing that came to mind when Dean thought of casual fun. No, no strings attached, no awkward glances, and no spreading rumors about how Dean Braxton was a casual sex, one-night-stand sort of guy, who wouldn’t call back.

That simply wouldn’t fly.

Dean had been lost in his thoughts when the purr of a female caught his ear, and he immediately dropped his hand, bright blue eyes immediately finding her own seductive ones, a hint of his smile peeking onto his lips.

That was another thing about Dean; he never fully smiled. It was just sort of a half smile, that exuded I’m-pleasantly-surprised-you’ve-decided-to-grace-me-with-your-presence. A lovely thing, that smile.

Her words, though, were a bit disheartening. His reputation? Had she read his book? It had to be; it was said that book had circulated the masses of women, and resonated as a sort of bible to those who wanted to understand the thoughts men harbored about lust, and all things glorified.

And if she was at all familiar with his material, so to speak, Dean Braxton could not have been more pleased with the outcome of this evening.

“My reputation?” He repeated, in a soft, husky, breathful tone, as if he truly had no idea what she was talking about. Of course, his eyebrow cocked just a bit, lips curling into more of a mischievous grin, now seeming as though she’d caught him red handed, leaving him once more, pleasantly surprised. After what seemed like a moment of thought, it seemingly clicked in his mind.

“Oh,” he chucked, “that reputation. Fortunately, I was spared. She was actually just fired, via e-mail; an awful thing, really, if you ask me. I wish they’d had the decency to send a letter, or wait to do it in person. And if anything, at least wait until after dinner.” He seemed to be rambling now, but his amused tone exuberated eloquence, if anything. Instead of sauntering over to her podium and leaning over, before flashing the young woman a bright smile, he stood in his place, slipping both hands into the pockets of his slacks, and rocking back and forth a bit, before taking a step forward.

“Listen, I’m terribly embarrassed. Is there anyway I could get the check here, without having to face the mass of people who probably think…well, you know.”