bossymarmalade | amy's wealthy, she's...probably got other qualities

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amy's wealthy, she's...probably got other qualities

I'm avoiding ringing in on Justin's RS interview just yet, because I'm sure we'll all be sick of arguing about it soon enough. *g*

So anyway, I will instead say that copracat is a bad, bad woman because during a discussion of JC's HK lady-who-lunchesness she said:

"Well, we already know he likes to spend time with his manicurist. And he loves the open-toed shoe and he's certainly had the ironed straight hair. Not to mention the jewellery collection and Carlos, okay, not a filipina maid but still Carlos lives in, right? Oh. My. God. JC IS a tai-tai."

Which then, because I am infinitely suggestible, meant that I spent the day writing it. Unbetaed, unanything really.

object of taste (or the website version)

"Slip-on Bruno Maglis," JC said. He paused, then added blandly, "From last year."

The man sitting next to him nodded. The man's name was Kai or Jai or something like that, but JC mostly remembered that he'd once given JC a cheap pair of Dunhill cufflinks as a Christmas present. So in JC's mind, he was Dunhill forever more. It made sense to think of people in terms of brand names, really; a sort of mental shorthand to help him remember certain proprieties, he'd explained to Lance once. Lance had seemed uninterested, but that was nothing new.

"He should be ashamed to go out in them," Dunhill was saying. "That's just embarrassing for all of us."

JC nodded serenely, only half-listening as Dunhill nattered on. The driver was looking at him in the rear-view mirror and JC liked it, the man's hungry gaze fixed on him. He leaned back and bit one corner of his lower lip, letting his hips tilt, shoulders sliding against the leather seat.

He might as well let the man look. JC believed deeply in charity.

…

"You'll have to be extra-careful today, honey." JC smiled at Tara as she set out her potions and clippers. "Mao had a little accident yesterday and scratched one of my fingers. But he didn't mean to, did he?" Tara giggled patiently as JC tickled his foul-tempered Pomeranian under its yapping chin. He despised the thing, but Lance had been so pleased with himself when he'd presented it to JC that now it was a battle of wills to see who could outlast their mutual hatred, JC or the dog.

Mao shuddered in his Vuitton Sac Chien and made a distressing piddling noise. JC narrowed his eyes at the thing and snatched the bag up, avoiding Mao's snapping teeth and holding it out to Carlos. "I think Mao-Mao needs freshening up," he announced. Carlos gave a tight smile and carried the festering little rodent away, and JC sighed in pleasure and turned back to Tara, whose eyes were starry and wide and pretty even if they were a little bit Betsey Johnson.

"I'll take care of the scratch for you," she tittered, taking JC's hands up into her own with something like reverence. No, actually -- with reverence. There was no "something" about it.

"Oh, thank you, sweetie. And go easy with the buffing, would you? The mister doesn't care for the look."

"They do get kind of sharp," Tara admitted. JC smiled and said, "Exactly," as though he was letting her in on a naughty secret, and she gave a scandalized giggle and caressed his silver John Hardy bracelet with suitable awe.

…

Darphin tore her lobster gyoza apart with her chopsticks and frowned, which was a bad idea because it would erase all the hard acidic work her salon girl had done on getting the lines smoothed out of her forehead. JC kept silent on that, however, and kept eating his samosa spring rolls until Darphin put her chopsticks down with a clatter and leaned forward.

"I think he has a mistress," she whispered in a feverish way. JC winced; the desperation was rolling off her like harsh perfume. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and took a drink before saying, "Well, naturally."

Darphin made a noise much like the one she'd made three months ago when her self-bronzer mishap had occurred, earning her the name in JC's mind. "I can't --" she started, but JC made a small noise in his throat and she seemed to snap back into focus, staring around at the room as though she'd just realized where she was. Mao yipped angrily into his own haunch as Darphin forced a smile onto her face and finished her lunch by drinking two more martinis while JC sampled the tamarind granita.

She was new, JC told himself to cut the irritation as he got into the car afterward. New and unaccustomed to the conventions. A few more months and she'd be able to shrug it off with the rest of them. "I'm not going to bother shopping this afternoon," JC announced in the driver's direction, adjusting his shirt cuffs. "I think I’m just going to go home."

"Mr. Bass called and asked me to bring you straight home in any case," the driver told JC, his eyes bold in the rearview mirror, crackling with the knowledge of what JC was going to be doing all afternoon and probably most of the night. JC shivered, hot all over, and hastily touched the button to raise the partition between them. He zipped the thankfully asleep Mao into his case and slid against the seat, trying to remember what the driver's face looked like, but he couldn't come up with anything other than dark, scorching eyes.

…

They had dinner with Chantecaille and her husband and spoke at length about property values in Shaughnessy and Habourside and the social and political atmospheres in each place before the conversation diverted into Them-topics and Us-topics. JC was glad that it was Chantecaille because she tended to talk at length about her own purchases and luncheons and functions and leave no room for anybody else to speak; he wasn't much in the mood for small-talk but it wouldn't do to seem cranky when Lance was home for such a short time.

Lance didn't say much until they were home and lying on their Nancy Koltes sheets, at which point he propped himself up a bit and laid a lazy, warm kiss on JC's brow. "I missed you," he murmured, running his fingers up JC's arm.

"Missed you too," JC said lightly, slanting his gaze at Lance. "I always do when you're away."

"That's why I got you Mao," Lance reminded him, nuzzling against JC's ear. "To keep you company when I'm gone." JC went stiff for a moment -- had he forgotten to unzip Mao's bag? Was the stupid loathsome creature dead and starting to stink in there? -- but then realized that Carlos would have taken care of it anyway and relaxed again.

Misreading this as JC responding to his advances, Lance slipped a Ketel One-flavoured tongue into JC's mouth, stroking his hands surely down JC's sides and then up under his shirt, pressing down on JC's shoulders. "So goddamn beautiful," Lance growled and JC couldn't help but moan, arch up when Lance rolled on top of him, reach down into Lance's pants to feel how hard he was and sense the tightness of his own erection spreading through his belly and thighs.

"Yes," he whispered as their clothes came off, layers of silk and fine Egyptian cotton and Lance's sharp teeth and eager mouth, JC's hands hot and cold and pressing against Lance, all over his back and hips and shoulders, riffling through his hair. They kissed and kissed again, breath coming faster and faster with each snarl of desire.

And there were Lance's fingers inside him, slick and slidy with lube and then Lance was inside, and it felt so good to be held down and fucked and Lance was panting, panting and pushing and thrusting deep down and when he started moaning JC covered Lance's mouth with his hand because he didn't want to think about that one time when he'd come in and found them, Justin riding hard on Lance's cock, both their heads thrown back and Lance moaning and gasping Justin's name over and over.

He thought about it anyway, flashes of golden skin and pinkness that made him squirm in reluctant lust. His body outraced him and came in jerky spurts against Lance's belly as JC dragged up the memory of polka-dot bruises, crescenting under Lance's shoulder when he'd pushed Justin down and pounded into him until Justin was screaming. Justin, wide-eyed and cherry-lipped and Moschino, JC decided drearily as Lance thrust again and came shuddering. Pretty enough to look at but cheap, cheap, cheap.

…

In the morning, Lance was gone, leaving behind a brief note concerning his itinerary and Carlos breaking the news that Mao had managed to eat some silica gel packets in the night and died. JC sat fully-dressed at the breakfast table alone and drank gunpowder tea and was so surprised to find himself crying that he dropped the cup. It broke cleanly into two pieces with a dull snap, and he felt cheated.

…

"Take me somewhere," JC ordered, sliding crisply into the backseat. He kept talking before the driver could say anything, sure to pitch his voice steady and low. "Take me somewhere I would never buy anything."

The driver's dark eyes regarded him in the rearview for a moment, then looked back at the road. "Sure," he said easily. "No problem."

JC scrubbed his palms against his thighs, soft Armani denim and with it a buttery Cavalli patchwork shirt and Ferragamo shearling jacket that you wouldn't think would match and some really fantastic Ermenegildo calfskin boots and why the hell he was dressed up to begin with, he didn't really want to think about. He opened a bottle of mineral water and drank some of it before getting bored and closing it again, and then the next thing he knew the car door next to him was opening and he was fluttering up out of sleep, straightening from his slumped position.

"We're here," a voice said, the driver's voice attached to two rather bowed legs and a pair of hands with rough bitten cuticles, a nondescript black wool jacket. JC blinked and peered out, staring at the big red concentric circles decorating the building across the lot.

"It's a --" he said, then stopped because he was going to giggle.

"Bullseye," the driver said, then ducked down. JC caught a quick flash of a short black goatee and a thin, almost cruel upper lip before he was being pressed back against the seat, his heart speeding up and leaping like a horse out of the racetrack gate.

"Want me to complete the experience for you?" the driver said in his strange scratchy voice, and his breath smelled like convenience-store peppermint gum. JC moaned happily and wrapped his arms around the driver, pulling that welcome weight down on top of him and lifting his head to press his mouth against that scrub of beard, those biting teeth. He kissed and kissed and then pushed their hips together, inhaling sharply as his cock met the driver's erection through their clothes.

"God, yes," JC hissed. He wriggled his hand into his pocket and pulled out lube and a couple of condoms; the driver picked them up, clenched them in his fist, and rasped, "Slut," against JC's throat. It made him gasp in humiliation but his blood was racing even faster because of it, and JC yanked open his jeans and helped the driver pull them down and he was grabbing the lube, slicking his fingers and opening himself up, fingers stretching and flexing as the driver rolled a condom onto his cock.

"Chris," the driver said finally, squinting at JC with one hand grasping JC's hip. "Not that it matters to you."

"Not in the slightest," JC said, then gave a long loud groan as Chris thrust into him. He bucked his hips up, knees spreading as far as they could go, and Chris obligingly sped up his momentum and drove JC against the expensive leather seats. The whole car was full of the slapping sound of their bodies, the high smell of salt and sex, their panting and grunting and Chris's shoes scraping the asphalt parking lot outside. "This is fucking awkward," he grated, and JC bit softly down on his black wool shoulder, staring at the big red Target sign reflected in the side window.

…

"Take me somewhere," he said when they were back in their respective seats, after they'd shared a couple slow cigarettes standing outside leaning against the car. JC paused, then smiled, pulling his sleeves straight under his jacket and smoothing his straight, long hair. "Take me somewhere they sell dogs."

======

Notes and crap:

definition of a tai-tai
louis vuitton sac chien
menu at chi restaurant
john hardy silver bracelet
nancy koltes linens

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But see, that's why I needed to get MY opinon out there as quickly as possible. So I can discuss it and get over it. Of course, I'm sure the other side will have to drag it on much longer.

Naturellement. I'm waiting until everybody's had their say and they're starting to spin crazy conspiracy theories, and then I'll feel justified at blowing a gasket. Or, y'know -- all the preemptive discussion might make it just go away quickly and bloodlessly.

...yeah, I don't think so either. But one can always hope. *g*

Okay, I want a cigarette now. True, I don't smoke, but that's not really the point, is it?

It's always a good time to pick up smoking. mmmm, delicious nicotine! *g* thank you, sweetie.

I don't have a single comment about Justin, but I'm madly in love with you for the fic. I'm rather unpleasantly reminded of Trudie (nee Gertrude), the mother of one of my friends in elementary school. I think it was the Sac Chien that did it.

and ahahaha! the silica gel packets!

Oh, the Sac Chien! That kind of shit just blows me away, man. And you are cruel and heartless to laugh at Mao-Mao's cold, lonely, silica-flavoured fate. *g*

Thank you so much for the feedback!

Mmm... I love this kind of unhappiness. So spiteful and desperate, one foot after the other on the narrow, railless stone walk across the chasm. And I think the path is getting even narrower.

*claps in delight* Your summaries are the best. They make my fic seem so crystal-sharp and deep, and I'm so happy you liked it. *kisses*

And suddenly I'm back working at the country club watching assistants walk pooches in the parking lots while the ladies lunched.

This was great!

Taking care of the kickdogs would be the worst part of being an assistant, in my mind.

Thank you!

I love the way you write. You give details about things that most people seem to ignore. And...decadence. And...yeah. I loved it.

Even if I did have to read your notes and crap! How dare you make me learn!

Hee! Surreptitious learning. But now you'll know what to call those ladies who wander the expensive stores in the middle of the day, wearing leather shorts and fur coats.

Thank you for the feedback, dumpling!

Very, very nice. Unhappy, but the sort of unhappy that you stay with because--why leave? But oh, the TrickC at the end. *sighs* :)

A lil' bit of TrickC is always nice -- their dynamic *so* suits the whole "coming together in bitterness" angle for me. *g*

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And your package is coming soon, I promise. I haven't had much of a chance for mailing lately, but will do it by the end of the week. ^_^

Justin did something?

Honestly, all I care about is the fic. This fic, especially. And JC and Chris in the back of the limo in a Target parking lot is my new favorite thing EVER!!

*loves you madly*

Which one's Justin again? *g*

And, yay for Target! We don't have them up here, but I've always enjoyed visiting them in the States. I don't have JC's delicate sensibilities. Heh.

Thank you, sugarplum!

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overloved.livejournal.com - 2003-12-04 08:35 (UTC) - Expand

Jesus, I'm dying from laughter. This is perfect, perfect, perfect. Perfect like, like Prada is perfect and timeless like Chanel. The dog! And Tara! And Chris! Eeee.

JC went stiff for a moment -- had he forgotten to unzip Mao's bag? Was the stupid loathsome creature dead and starting to stink in there? -- but then realized that Carlos would have taken care of it anyway and relaxed again.

Yes.

Carlos breaking the news that Mao had managed to eat some silica gel packets in the night and died

God. Yes.

"Take me somewhere they sell dogs."

Perfect.

Perfect like, like Prada is perfect and timeless like Chanel.

aaahahah! What a fantastically tailored compliment, dah-ling. Thank you miles and yards for running with the idea and making it oh-so-appealing, because otherwise I wouldn't have bothered. I'm so glad you like it!

*mwah*

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copracat - 2003-12-04 19:19 (UTC) - Expand

This definitely deserves a huge ass rec because the poppy you're smoking is totally grand!

I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

mmmmm, poppaaaaaaay. *g*

I'm happy to provide a giggle. Thank you for the feedback!

Oh my God, two days in a row that you have entertained me mightily. The dog was the best. No, wait, the name-dropping was the best. Oh well, and why does this story seem probable??? Great job. Laughed my ass off. Thanks. Quite a productive day.

aahahah! It seems probable because JC is such the tai-tai, dear creature. And dude, the name-dropping? I had to do some serious research, because all I know are the brands that everybody else does -- Prada, Chanel, Blahnik. This one took investigating into the lifestyles of the rich and pointless, and it there's anything i've learned, it's that fashion websites INSIST on playing music and being made in tedious Flash formats. aargh!

Thank you for the feedback, sugar. I appreciate it muchly.

can't. breathe. you've outdone yourself!

Hee! Breathing is overrated anyhow. Thank you!

Dude! That's the best thing that's happened to me since el Gaucho!

Ha! Muchas gracias for the accolade, amiga. *g*

*screech* Oh my my, that story was perfect. :D

Hee! Thank you so much!

That was just so lovely, and quiet, and painful. I love it, and I love you for it. [hearts]

cm

oh, thank you, sweetling. I'm glad you enjoyed it. *snuggle*

*happysigh* Again, you're one of my favorite writers because of this: the detail, humour, sharp sharp characters, the hotness. Anticipating fandom arguments should always make you write stuff like this.

The dog! Carlos! Lance and Justin! Lance and JC! JC and Chris! Sharing cigarettes leaning against the car, and JC don't care what his name is- It's uncannily like the real JC which only you can capture perfectly like this!

Yes, I just went madder for this short lj-posted fic than most things posted last year, but you have no idea how much I love it. And you!

--Capp.

eee! I love you too. And dude, what could be better than having lustful unloving sex with Chris outside Target and then sharing ciggies? mmmmmm-hmmmm.

Thank you so much for the lovely feedback! You're such a doll.

oh MAN. Sharp and bitter and hot and wow. wow. And the way you capture details--Chris's peppermint-tasting mouth, JC's teacup breaking, his luncheon, his dog (the silica gel!), his thoughts about Justin and Justin and Lance--I am *so* glad you wrote this. You are amazing.

You are so sweet, pumpkin. Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback, and I'm glad you enjoyed the story, silica gel and all. *g*

Oh, this is great. The descriptions are so sharp, the tone walks that line between hilarious and tragic, and though it's such a far-out concept, I buy it, totally. Love it.

hooray! I'm so thrilled to hear that I made it work for you, and that the tragic-comic thing didn't flop. Thank you so, so much for the feedback!

Mmmmm. This is perfect - all the sharp horrible true portraits of a certain class of people in HK, melded nicely with the SDBs. The little details kill me - the yappy dogs that don't chase away loneliness, that become the maid's duty, the husband who's so rarely home and so rarely faithful - because I recgonise them, and it makes the sadness more so. I love the ending.

Oh, honey -- thank you many times over for the wonderful feedback. The idea of the tai tais with their ridiculous, sad lives is such an intriguing one, and I'm glad you think I managed to translate it well. Thank you and I'm so happy you liked it!

Oh, that was delectable. With the snarky and the sharp-nasty-hot. I firmly believe this is the only way to deal with days when the shit hits the fandom -write write write more. I need more tai-tai JC and more of the scrumptious little things he eats and buys and oh, the glamorous boredom of it all. Thank you!

"Glamorous boredom" indeed! What a perfect way to put it. And hey, this is the second thing I've written as a Means of Dealing with Kerfuffle -- I should stick them all up somewhere special. *g*

Thank you for the feedback, and for the encouragement! *mwah*

The Justin thing is really the only thing I've wanted to comment on in weeks, actually. Because it's exactly what's been pissing me off about fandom lately.

and I suck, I've been so busy, so I'm sorry I haven't sent that fic for beta yet. bad, bad me.

Whenever you want to send the fic is fine by me, sugarcookie.

And yes, you should comment about Justin! I'm finding catharsis in other people's posts, and you generally say exactly what I'm thinking in a less abrasive way, so my pushing here is purely selfish. *g*

*snuggle*

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pirateyes.livejournal.com - 2003-12-04 08:49 (UTC) - Expand

Oh, I enjoyed this a *lot*. It's all wicked and funny and strangely affecting.

Thank you so much! It makes me so happy that people are enjoying the story, because I wasn't sure how well it would translate. So your feedback is very much appreciated, and I'm glad you liked it. *g*

Oooh, this was really so interesting to read (and I mean that in the best possible way, not in a "And my uncle's 457 page thesis on Romanian soil composition during the Cold War years was so...interesting" way).

And I'm loving reading your feedback here and people's incredibly different reactions to it, as well. Is it a sweet story...or wickedly funny? Is it bitter...or lovely? Personally, I love it for it's tension. Mmm, duality!

Thanks for posting it!

Dude, for real! I've been loving the feedback and how differently people are reacting to the story and what parts they focus on. It's so cool and I feel so thankful for it.

And I am also thankful that you find it interesting and not "...interesting." Heh! That's fabulous. Thank you so much, babydoll!

This was a lot of fun. I can so picture JC as the bored society wife.

But now I want to start a kerfuffle. Stop spreading the Pomeranian hate! When treated right, Poms are devoted, though very clingy, little friends. At the moment, mine is snugled into my lap, with his cuteness turned up to max.

Awwww, poor little Pom. I didn't mean to start a smear campaign against his people! *g*

And I'm glad you liked the story despite Mao being a bad representative of his kind, heh. Thank you for the feedback!

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amy's wealthy, she's...probably got other qualities

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ah, justin and his not-so-sekrit plan to destroy fandom

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