(Open to anyone 
)
The second time that Kerr ventured into Risk after his metamorphosis from grieving lover was complete, he was a great deal more relaxed and open to anything.
The first time had been difficult; just three weeks since Ben had left for New York, two weeks after Jack\'s murder and a week since he\'d changed everything about himself that he was able to... he\'d been nervous, to say the least. He\'d wandered around for a while, until he\'d been invited into one of the back rooms by a younger vampire promising him some fun. He\'d thought it odd but followed, only to find a small gathering in the little room, everybody\'s eyes focussed on a large bowl containing some polaroid pictures, sitting in the middle of the floor.
He\'d been thanked profusely for they\'d been short a vampire, and then invited to dip into the bowl first, for his trouble. Not knowing what was going on, he\'d declined the offer only to have his \'host\' insist. Reluctantly, he concurred, and pulled out a photograph of a young woman. She was curvy, slightly heavy set and pretty and when she gave a small squeal of delight from across the bowl, he finally figured out what was going on. The group were pet swingers; vampires who dropped pictures of their pets into a bowl to trade them with other vampires, just for a change of \'scenery\'.
He was somewhat aghast. The old Kerr would have balked, or simply taken the girl aside and drunk from her, without any of the implied action occurring between them, but the new Kerr - despite the misgivings he was feeling - decided he\'d give it a try. Why not? It was just another way to feed from someone and he very much liked the way the girl looked adoringly at him, as if he was the absolute pick of the vampires gathered around the bowl (there were only eight of them in total and he rate himself somewhere in the middle, as far as looks went, but she seemed very happy).
After finding out whose pet she was (he was glad he hadn\'t been the Oligarch to give her and her master permission, for the group didn\'t
seem to know who he was) and what was expected of him as far as her return went, Kerr took Tabitha (who liked being called Tabby) back to the penthouse with him. On the drive there, he was already planning how he might handle things when they arrived, how much time they should spend socialising and if he should stop to purchase some food but all his thinking went completely out the window when she unbuckled her belt, leaned across the central divider in the car and unzipped his pants.
Once he saw how eager she was for them to experience the full spectrum of a feeding, he moved from stunned to excited very swiftly and they barely made it out of the elevator clothed. Three hours later, she was duly returned to her master and both of them were satisfied in every manner possible, he newly enervated by his return to heterosexual sex. In hindsight, he believed that women weren\'t anywhere near as good at giving head but they couldn\'t be beaten for softness and enveloping warmth.
Kerr didn\'t expect anything like the little eye-opener from three nights before to occur again tonight (though he wouldn\'t argue if it did) but he\'d certainly done his best appearance-wise... just in case. When he\'d got his hair cut, it had been trimmed to a length of about an inch all over. This gave him the option of peaks and spikes with a little hair gel or just a bit of texture and ruffled nonchalance with some wax. Tonight, he\'d gone with the rumpled look, emphasising his decadence by lining his lower lids in black eyeliner. It wasn\'t heavy but he\'d found that just that single line, smudged slightly to give him an edgier look, brought the focus immediately to his brown eyes.
His hair stylist, Max, had also advised against any facial hair at all, but he\'d been non-committal about that, so the two of them had compromised and left him with hair on his chin, goatee style, and his disconnected moustache. He looked a great deal younger though he thought it made his long, crooked nose more obvious too. He was considering piercing his eyebrow or his lower lip but hadn\'t yet taken those steps, settling instead for piercing his left ear. It had one centimetre a spear-like rod of metal through it currently, for he hadn\'t found a ring or stud he\'d liked.
As far as clothes went, Kerr had taken a step far away from his usual business suits or traditional sixteen hundreds clothing; he wore chunky black motorcycle boots beneath a pair of shiny black leather pants with slightly-belled lower legs (to fit boots beneath). They were form-fitting around his muscular thighs and his hips but his nicely-rounded ass wasn\'t altogether visible due to the fact that he wore his metallic blue silk shirt untucked. The extra-long and flared sleeves poked out at his wrists from beneath the high-collared black leather jacket he wore, half covering his hands.
He wore a chunky silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand and a flat, smooth silver band on the thumb of his right, which matched the silver arrowhead dangling from the tight leather strap tied around his thick neck. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving a generous view of the necklace sitting in the hollow of his throat, as well as the curls of hair covering his sculpted pectorals.
Kerr was well aware that his Oligarchy tattoo could no longer be concealed with his new, short hair cut, so he\'d deliberately chosen this jacket with its high, stiff collar, because he didn\'t want to be seen for his position when he came here. He visited often enough that some knew who he was - and he always seemed to bump into
someone who he\'d given permission to, for a siring or a pet relationship or simply information to be shared - but gone were the days when he\'d sat at the bar, drunk from a glass and slunk home when he was done. The new him was ready to embrace everything that came his way... and even to invite it, if he liked it well enough.
Tonight was Saturday and so Wild Hunt were playing. The stage and the dance floor vibrated with the energy that only they could whip from the crowd and so he walked amongst them for a while. Ultimately, he\'d decided that he would head up to the Topaz Lounge - a perk that his position
did afford him - but he was in no hurry to get up there. He might even take someone up with him, to converse out of the din, if they were interesting enough, but for the time being he was just looking.
Strolling through the crowd at a leisurely place, jostled and bumped by the force of excited people (most shorter than him), the tips of his fingers tucked nonchalantly into the front pockets of his pants... he was newly emerged from a painful and ugly past, looking for some fun and excitement, like a butterfly with newly-dry wings about to set off on the next great current of air. Looking.
