//------------------------------// // Sweet Siren // Story: Sweet Siren Seashell Switch-Up // by overlord-flinx //------------------------------// Insanity is doing something over and over expecting a different result. "Left!" Zilch. Trixie knew it before the cup was raised. Still a trick must always be seen to the end. The cup was simply tipped back just-so to show the poor shmuck her misfortune. No flash of red, just a hollow core and another failed call. "You gotta be kidding me!" Aggravation shot through the Siren with an accompanying screech. As Trixie reached across the table to collect the few knick-knacks put up, she had to wonder if that screech could've shattered glass years ago; when three Sirens looked to bewitch a student body with otherworldly magic. A screech that could've perhaps sent the sultry sorceress sliding to her knees now only sounded like something a cat would prickle at. While she offered a few careful glances at the now slumped over-upon-the-table Siren just to be sure she wasn't about to try anything, Trixie took stock of the abundant pile of "goods" she had managed off the girl. What started as the usual coins and dollars—the usual fare—had developed and devolved into a ring, a gym membership card, a fistful of bus tokens, a slip of paper with random letters and numbers on it (what was promised to be the wi-fi password of a motel), a last-gen phone with a crack across the screen, a pamphlet for a local masseuse who had "late night hours", and now an assortment of creams and lipsticks that are already well used. To be fair, fifty-eight dollars and change with a few free rides on top wasn't a bad haul; it was a better sitting than most nights. However... "One more," eyes brilliant with determination as much as they were with crimson snapped to Trixie. This girl... "Listen sweetie," Trixie started, "Not that I don't LOVE taking your jun—st fine accoutrements... But you have to know when to fold." As Trixie warned her mark, her fingers tapped rhythmic patterns on the tops of two of the three cups placed against the table. Each flitter of taps tauntingly echoed the hollow nature of two of them; the outer two. It was the center. She was so dang close! It was all that filled Sonata's head in that moment. The tippy-tap and hollow thump; the pitiable stare and pouty lip of this nasty magician before her. Oh! It set her off! She just wanted to bite that lip and show her what's what! After all these years, Trixie had probably forgotten her, but Sonata would never have forgotten this tricksy little mix. Equestrian magic? Oh yeah, Adagio was all about that. Spent years trying to find it to power their amulets back up. But all this time, there was real magic just dancing under their noses... And now the mastermind that cracked the code to use it in a world bereft of magic was using it to outsmart her! There wasn't a chance Sonata could take this lying down. She couldn't take this lying down! She had already lost her bus tokens and cab fare... And her means of crying to her siblings for help... At this point, it was bet the shirt off her back or crawl into an alley and die. "I can win this!" Sonata beat her chest with pride, "Set-em up. All or nothing." Her opponent couldn't help but scoff. "Against—pray tell—h'what?" Trixie's charity to let a mark go would always be outweighed by her own narcissistic pride. If you're going to challenge the queen when she gives you mercy, you had better kiss her ring that she won off you and pack it up or put up one hell of a fight. For her own part, Sonata was indeed ready to throw down. And down it went. Up, over, and slapped down upon the table. In a moment, Sonata Dusk issued her wager and watched the once great and powerful magician go red from her collar to her nose. It was only a grift... The swindler's wet-dream always lies in the statements "everything that isn't nailed down" and "the clothes off their back". Metaphors for most petty thieves or common shysters. But today, Sonata Dusk let that dream come to life as off went the Siren's off the shoulder sweater and onto the table, leaving her in just a peach, strapless bra. If the hour wasn't so late, perhaps one of the two would have been concerned about the half-naked woman standing on the street. Even then, perhaps not. Sonata Dusk was aflame with righteous vigor to reclaim her loot, and Trixie had a wandering eye that could care to look at little else but the two assets peaked out just before her. Even if there was another soul wandering the streets, this was an entirely different world. "Now... Shuffle 'em!" Blink once. Blink twice. A shake of the head. A reclaimed composure. If Sonata wanted to bet it all and lose it all so badly... At least Trixie would have the remarkable pleasure of watching her go, and drink in the view for the time being. Deft hands clacked to each cup, one after the other to let the brief sound of a little red ball Sonata had not yet seen since the first round clatter. In an instant, Sonata's eyes latched onto the center cup—it was there. As quick as her attention was caught to the cup, it was just as soon lost as the marvelous magician began her shuffle at a blur. Three cups became one; one cup became six. The Siren's eyes spun 'round-and-round, crisscrossing and snapping shut from the brief sharp pain of struggling not to blink... Only to return and see the three cups back exactly were they started. Now as much as every other time before, Sonata hadn't a clue which one was which. She knew it, and Trixie knew as well. Even at the corner of her perverse view of such supple mounds now softly squared against the face of the table, Trixie could see the abject confusion plastered against the woman's face. No matter how closely she studied them, scooted in against them, or listened in on them as they sat so-still, Sonata only had a gut of a guess. "Llllrrrrmmmiiiiidlllllight-right! It's the right!" Dud. Trixie knew it before the cup was raised. Still a trick must always be seen to the end. The cup was simply tipped back just-so to show the poor shmuck her continued misfortune. No flash of red, just a hollow core and another failed call, again. What followed was not so much a screech of anguish, but a helpless groan behind clenched teeth as the Siren clawed at the air before the cups. Perhaps the sight would look pitiful or downright comical in most cases, but right now Trixie found herself only sucking at her bottom lip and watching a barely restrained pair jiggle and sink in motion with their master's outburst. Maybe another round had been worth it after all. Most certainly Trixie would have a lot to think about tonight when she got home. And the final prize she just won might just help that along. All's fair on the street after all; and they were both adults. Trixie collected up the soft bundle of a shirt left on her table and piled it with her dragon's hoard. Thankfully it wasn't that far of a walk to her hideaway. A walk made all the more easier with bus tokens and cab-fare. Tonight she would have a choice of chariots to spirit her home with her spoils. What apprehension Trixie once toyed with this night had all but been replaced with more wonton sensations... "While this has been very entertaining, the Great and Powerful Trixie must be on—" "One... More..." A silence. A twinge of sympathy plucked once more at Trixie's old, rusted heartstrings. Strings that needed a few replacements, maybe an oiling and better attention, but they still chimed. Maybe she could spare a bus token so the poor girl could at least get home to lick her wounds. Granted, she'd still be going topless; that was one thing Trixie hadn't an iota of intent to part with. Even still, her eyes scanned over the displayed voluptuous form all but offered to her in near full detail as well as the blazing intent roaring behind her motivated expression. "You're adorable," Trixie couldn't lie about that, be it looks or character, "But you have nothing to bet with, for one. And for two, you just don't seem like the type who could best—" "One date." A gauntlet slammed with metaphorical weight and a metaphysical clamor. "P...Pardon?" "I'm no dummy," for the first time, the Siren's tone shifted with a face to match it: one of knowing, "You've been really ogling my perky little body, haven't you?" A shyster caught in the corner was perhaps the worst place they could imagine. Trixie let out a dismissive scoff with a roll of her eyes, all but prepared to dismantle the truth with convenient lies. Such a resolve could weather any storm, though was killed at takeoff as the magician watched the sultry Siren tug one finger down at the hem of her bra. A brief flash was all it took; one of a puffed, navy areola firm from the street's chill. The words of defense crumbled into an alphabet soup of agreement coupled with a hazy nod from the trickster, and Sonata could only bring herself to a toothy grin in response. "So... I'll wager a date. I can promise aaaall you're thinking..." From her memory, Trixie remembered the one with a fiery mane being the manipulator of their little posse; and yet she was a fish on the line with every sensuous word she purred. A Siren through and through, no doubt about it now. It took her every fiber to break herself from the hazy call to the shore. The unwritten handbook of the street magician was strict and clear: I.O.U.s and spoken words may as well be grains of sand. Nobody—most definitely not someone on their backfoot in debt—would ever honor a payment for a later date. Tempting or not, there was no dice. As Trixie wordlessly began to bundle up her winnings and reached for her cups, Sonata's eyes shot wide and all her confidence filtered from her face. "Wait! Three dates! I'll give you three dates! I mean, you can't get all of it out at once, right?" Spoken words and I.O.U.s can't be trusted... But three was too good a deal to ever pass up. The Siren's face lit up with utmost excitement as Trixie's hands returned to the cups. She watched as blue fingers flexed, painted nails rippled against the sides of the two cups of three... This was for it all... How did it end up like this? Repetition is all but the cousin of insanity. Eyes went crisscrossed and slammed shut as they stung, unable to follow any of the three as Trixie deftly shifted them to-and-fro; a mere play of pageantry since the first round when the surreptitious sorceress snatched the ball out from under the 'shells'. A game with only one winner, and a loser who was always meant to leave before they lost it all. But that's all part of the trick. A part of the show. "Center. Gotta be the center. Final answer: the left." Confused ramble aside, the cup was flipped to show—of course—nothing. Sonata—without fail—threw a fit at her impossible luck. And Trixie was all too pleased; like the cat who got into the cream. Her smug smirk was all she could offer as she started her final count of her well-earned prizes, as well as carefully pocketing her cups before someone got wise to check them. Amidst her final check over, her attention was called with a labored, purposeful sigh. "Wow. Guess I lost it all. But it's gonna be totes hard for you to 'collect' since I can't call you..." Sonata's eyes batted innocently, but they both understood in that moment. Whether it was her ploy from the get-go or a revelation she reached in the moment, it would be that the Siren wouldn't go completely at a loss. Trixie offered a deathly glare as slowly, inch by inch, purposefully with every ounce of apprehension she could muster in the moment, slid the cracked phone across the table to an elated Sonata. A squeal of joy pierced the cool dusk air followed by the fevered beeps-and-bops of a keypad being tapped. Trixie reluctantly smirked at the display before finalizing her pack. It was cute, and she did win something back. "Hey Dagi! I—Yeah. Yeah, sorry. But can you come pick me up...? I'm at seventh and four—... Because I lost all my money... Because I bet it all... I bet that too... No—No I won that back... No—" It sounded like it'd be one long talk, and Trixie had to start hitting the trail. In another act of altruism, Trixie produced the strip of paper with a scribbled password on it and took a moment to jot down her number. Two birds, one stone. With some care she left the strip under the pen so it wouldn't flitter off in the wind. Still, the cold would do a number on the poor Siren... Well, Trixie would just have to make it up to her on one of their three dates. If it was all that Sonata implied, there'd be a lot of making to do. "—It's good news for you too! And for Ary...! Well—and don't get mad because it was the only way I got to call you—I bet we'd all go out on a date with her!" What...? "I thought—No. No she was staring at my tits, so—... It's a date! Not—Okay, yeah, it's a sex-meet up. But you should've seen her. She REALLY wanted to fuck me. And you're so pretty! She'll love you, and you'll have a lot of fun with her...!" Huh...? "Okay... Okay... See you soon!" A small click of a closed line would've been what Trixie heard if she was still one with her own body. Instead, red as a beet against the blue highlights of her skin, and body a quiver at the sudden news, the gobsmacked grifter absently started down the road away from this event and all it entailed. Three dates... With three Sirens... It was only a grift, how did it end up like this? Luck? Blessing? Punishment? Heaven or Hell? Either way, she had a lot to think about... An a lot to get out.