"Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith"
Sympathy For The Devil ~ The Rolling Stones
Corbin Frost lived in the Gold Coast District of Chicago, in the original Playboy Mansion that Hugh Hefner had owned and lived in during the sixties and seventies. A recent spread in the magazine
Modern Luxury Interiors showed that Corbin had restored the mansion to its Playboy decor, including the fireman's pole that connected to the basement pool. Corbin's parties had become just as legendary as Hefner's were in those earlier decades. A brass plate on the door had the Latin inscription,
Si Non Oscillas, Noli Tintinnare ("If you don't swing, don't ring").
Jack whistled softly as he got out of his car. He had parked across the street from the residence and took a moment to take in the iconic 4-story home. Just off the heart of the city, there wasn't a long driveway or large gardens. But what it was and what it stood for was impressive none the less.
Jack expected to be challenged at the gated entrance to the grounds, but he was able to push the iron gate open.
"Corbin is either confident in his abilities or that was because I am expected. Neither thought makes me less nervous." Jack said to no one. He approached the extra wide door. After a last minute check for wrinkles, stains, and loose threads, Jack took a quick deep breath and then pressed the doorbell. Just because he wasn't from this part of town didn't mean he couldn't look like he belonged here.
"No turning back now. Just two journalists getting together."
The door was opened by a woman wearing a distressingly bright and garish, multi-colored caftan. It looked like it had been stolen from Mrs. Roper's closet in the seventies. She had accessorized the dress with a clunky bracelet and beaded necklace. Her long hair was braided into a ponytail that fell in front of her left shoulder and down her chest. Her hair was completely gray in color. She looked to be in her eighties.
"Hello." She had a cheery smile, and a voice that felt like a grandmotherly hug.
Jack was taken aback a bit. He had expected either a big burly bouncer type (race / species optional) or a Playboy Bunny type.
"Hello. I'm I'm Jack, Jack Jennings. I believe I am expected." He hoped his surprise didn't show too badly.
"Oh yes, of course." She opened the door wider.
"Please come inside." The hallway was adorned with marble floors, a curving staircase, and expensive artwork.
"Mr. Frost should be with you shortly. You can wait for him in the game room." She led Jack into a room with wood-paneled walls, a fireplace, and leather furniture. There was a pool table next to another table designed to comfortably seat eight for poker. A wet bar ran along one wall, and in an alcove was a stone hot tub with a small waterfall. Behind the bar was a painting of the Chicago skyline. A partially open door connected to another room that appeared to be an office or study. Jack could see Corbin in the other room with a dark-haired woman that was talking on a cell phone.
"Can I get you something to drink?" the elderly woman offered.
Corbin stepped into the room.
"Jack, nice to see you." Corbin extended his right hand for a handshake while his left hand held his customary cigar.
"Yes, what are you drinking? Rose here makes an excellent dirty martini."
"Martinis are like sex, the dirtier the better." Rose smiled as she moved behind the bar.
Jack smiled warmly as he shook the extended hand. His brain screamed
Beer! Ice cold and lots of it! "I can wait if you have other business to conclude." Jack nodded toward the other room with the woman on the cellphone.
"Actually, she's the reason I called you," Corbin said.
"She should be joining us shortly, and then we can get down to business."
Jack nodded.
"In that case, I'd like to try one of Rose's martinis." Jack quickly looked around the room. He guessed that the cost of furnishing and decorating this room alone, could cover his rent for a year.
"Nice place you've got here. You have good taste. But of course you do. I'm sure that helps you do your job so well."
Corbin chuckled.
"Jack, it's been centuries since I've held a job. Not that there's anything wrong with working for a living. I have the utmost respect for people who do. I was just never very good at that whole daily grind kind of thing." Corbin opened up a wooden box on the end of the bar which turned out to be a humidor filled with cigars. He offered one to Jack.
"Cuban I presume," Jack said, as he selected one of the fine looking cigars.
"The best that can be legally imported to the states," Corbin replied.
Jack took the cigar in hand and thought about having to bite off the tapered end, then became fearful of where he would spit it. Ever the fine host, Corbin pivoted and in a singular smooth motion he set the humidor down, and passed an engraved ashtray fitted with a silver double-bladed cigar guillotine. Jack nodded approvingly as he took the device and nipped the end off the cigar.
Thank God for the movies. Once properly nipped, he lit the business end.
Drinks and cigars! We are becoming best friends. Or there is a 'Jack, what I need for you to do...' attached to all this, he thought.
"I could never do a daily grind in an office cubical either. That's why I like being an investigative reporter. Gets me out of the office. Never exactly the same thing from day to day."
"Variety is the spice of life," Rose said, as she handed Jack his martini. She returned to the bar and opened a dark red bottle and placed it in a fancy warmer. Humans had their ice buckets and wine chillers but, blood was best served warm. Vampires had developed their own bar accessories. This particular bottle was an expensive blend of the highest quality animal blood, red wine, brandy, and spices. Essentially, it was a hot-spiced-wine mixed with blood.
"Thank you Rose." Jack moved the stabbed olives out of the way and sipped his drink. His mouth was assaulted by several sensations at once; the burn of alcohol, the briny taste of the olives reminded him of a New Orleans Muffaletta, the moisture of his mouth getting sucked away by the vermouth. And yet, it wasn't bad! It would never replace a cold beer, but he had a drink he could order at a fancy gathering.
"Wow, that is different. Nice, it wakes up your mouth and warms the soul," Jack took another sip.
Do not think about drinking a martini, puffing a Cuban cigar, all while in the Playboy mansion. Too late, but if he mentions that hot tub I'm out of here, he thought.
"I'm glad you liked it." Rose turned to Corbin and said,
"If that's all you need from me, I have a date I need to get ready for."
"We're good, Rosie, thank you," Corbin said.
"You have yourself a good time." He gave the older woman a kiss on the cheek.
"If that young man doesn't behave himself, call me."
Rose smiled.
"He better not behave himself! I'll be sorely disappointed if he does."
As Rose exited the room, the dark-haired woman emerged from the study. At just over five feet, she wasn't very tall. She wore a red blouse with plunging neckline and black leather skirt that showed off her perfect hour-glass figure. She had a strained expression on her face.
"Is everything all right?" Corbin asked.
"My offer still stands, the two of you could stay here tonight, or as long as it takes for this to blow over."
"I am not going to let them chase me out of my own home! I won't give them the satisfaction. She spoke with a thick Hispanic accent.
"I've faced angry mobs before. I'm not that easy to frighten."
"This is the man I told you about earlier, Jack Jennings. He's a reporter and I'm hoping that he can help you." Corbin poured a glass of the blood red wine and handed it to her.
"Jack, I'd like you to meet one of my dearest friends. This is Belladona. She's the owner of Tabú."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:21, Fri 13 Feb 2015.