Mikura Syzuki emerged from the workroom dressed in her working clothes, the orange body suit clinging to the pink haired girl's body. She slid her pistols in their holsters at her side as she nodded to the client, "Ready to go?" Mitsuki Aya nodded as the sexy redhead rose from her seat, "Of course." Her blue dress clung to every curve as she added, "You look... stunning." "Yeah, whatever," Mikura shrugged casually, not letting the woman see how much that casually delivered compliment had pleased her. She led Mitsuki outside then turned as she called, "Forgot something." Kurokawa looked up at her from the pan of noodles that the balding man was tasting as he asked, "Yes?" "Pops, I want you and Harada to do some digging on this lady's story and background and let me know if anything unusual comes up," Mikura hissed to him softly, well aware of Mitsuki waiting for her outside. "So you are worried," Harada frowned at her as he returned to the kitchen from his workroom and robotics lab. "She obviously didn't tell us why she thinks she's in danger," Mikura said impatiently, "find out for me, please." "Will do," Kurokawa saluted her with a fork. "Call me," Mikura said as she rushed out the door. "I almost envy her that job," Harada said with a sigh. Kurokawa nodded solemly in agreement, "Bodyguarding a porn star..." Both men trailed off, their minds quickly being filled with adult scenarios that would have probably made Mikura beat them both bloody. "All right," Mikura asked briskly as the two women left the DSA's new headquarters, "where to first?" "Back to work, I'm sorry to say," Mitsuki admitted as she led the way to her waiting sports car, her long red hair blowing in the breeze, "I have a script rewrite to do as well as a event to attend tonight." "What kind of event?" Mikura asked as she warily stopped Mitsuki and looked over the car for anything amiss. "Night club party," Mitsuki said as she say down, her dress riding up a bit, "to promote our latest DVD." "I'd better go too," Mikura strapped herself in the passenger's seat, but not before making sure she could get to her pistols if needed. She tried to subdue the odd emotion she had felt at seeing Mitsuki climb in, the flash of pink. "Good," and with that Mitsuki was off in a squeal of tires. The studio was not at all what Mikura had expected it to be, though that wasn't saying much. There was no loud moans or screams in the background tho there were more than a few attractive ladies working there. The secretary in the office was pleasant, the halls neat and no mysterious smells lingered in the halls. "Welcome back, Miss Aya," the bosomy blonde purred. "Hold my calls, Tina," Mitsuki said with a grin. "Be careful boss," Tina murmured to herself, "I'm pretty sure that girl is jail bait, no matter how good she looks in orange." "What sort of adult films do you make here, anyway?" Mikura had to ask as they entered Mitsuki's inner office. "Lesbian erotica," Mitsuki said as she walked around her desk, picking up several folders from her in box as she did. "I had a friend who was like that," Mikura confessed as she flopped down on the couch, still keeping a wary eye out. "Really?" Mitsuki said as she opened up a folder and took out a red pen, "What happened to her." "I killed her after she tried to kill me," Mikura admitted. "I'm sorry to hear that," Mitsuki admitted as she went over the documents, editing lines of dialog as needed. Mikura tapped her foot restlessly on the side of the couch. "What are you doing, anyway?" she asked restlessly. "Editing a script," Mitsuki said with a faint smile. She waved a sheet, "Debbie Does Dykes, Part Three." Mikura blinked in surprise, getting up to take a look. "You're not kidding," she said after she read the title. "Not exactly literate," Mitsuki flashed a grin, "but it IS popular." She pointed, "Does this sound realistic?" "Oh, Sakura," Mikura read with a frown, "do me with your strap-on!" She smiled wryly, "I guess so. Never said that myself, so..." "Too bad," MItsuki chuckled, "it's an enlightening experience." "You're...?" Mikura looked at her questioningly, even as she noticed the lovely scent of Mitsuki's brand of perfume. "Yes," Mitsuki looked up, eyes both amused and searching, "is that a problem?" "Nah," Mikura shook her head. She tilted her head as another bit of the script caught her eye, "Is that even possible?" "We mean to find out," Mitsuki said, eyes twinkling. She turned back to her work, "The event tonight... I usually come to these things with a date." "So I'll pose as your date," Mikura shrugged, "no problem." "The only issue," Mitsuki poked Mikura's orange clad hip, "is that outfit. It's not exactly what I'd call club wear." "It might help keep you alive," Mikura shifted back a little to avoid another poke. "Layering works," Mitsuki teased. "Oh?" Mikura looked curious. A few hours later Mitsuki climbed out of her sports car in front of a busy nightclub, her slinky blue dress exchanged for a black sheath of a dress. A silver belt circled her waist, bracelets glittered and her diamond earrings gleamed "This was not what I was expecting," Mikura said as she got out, her own clothes almost as lovely. A black mini-skirt had been put over her body suit along with a netting top, and over that she wore a leather jacket to conceal her twin pistols. "I think you look lovely," Mitsuki reached out to brush a bit of Mikura's pink hair back, "positively edible." "I'm surprised you had this in the studio," Mikura tugged the skirt down with a frown. "Costuming," Mitsuki shrugged as they casually walked by the impatiently waiting line. "You mean these wore worn while people were..." Mikura looked faintly squeamish. "They were laundered, I promise," MItsuki reassured her. "This is a private party," the big, buff bouncer growled out, the tall man rudely shoving Mitsuki backwards. Mikura reacted without thinking, moving in close and elbowing him in the chest. As he gasped in pain and surprise she grabbedf his arm and shifted her weight, the judo style throw sending him crashing to the ground. "Don't touch her," she said, keeping a grip on him while also holding him pinned. Mitsuki knelt and showed him her pass, "I'm a guest, dolt." "Oh hell," he sighed out, bald head gleaming. He looked up at Mikura and said much more pleasantly, "Sorry, miss." Mikura released him then politely offered him a hand up. "No problem," she said, one professional to another. "Thanks," he sent them in with a wave. "Nicely done," Mitsuki said, taking Mikura's hand as they walked in. "What's with...?" Mikura looked down at their joined hands. "In this crowd," Mitsuki nodded to the busy club, "it'd be better to be in a couple." Mikura took a sweep of her surroundings and had to agree. The place was packed with people of every type and description, and most were dressed in clothes that made her and Mitsuki's outfits look tame. There were women in leather fetish wear, pvc, rubber, silk and satin... and not a man to be seen. Mikura felt many hungry eyes on her and stood straighter, meeting those gazes confidently. "So, this usually happen?" she asked, giving a warning look to a boyish blonde nervously approaching. She wilted and turned, shoulders drooping. "This'll be a quieter night, I think," Mitsuki said as they stalked by crowded tables and loudly talking people. "Watch it," Mikura intercepted a hand reaching for Mitsuki's bottom, twisting the wrist a bit in punishment. "If this is quiet," she said as to Mitsuki as they reached the bar, "I don't want to see noisy." "Beer," Mitsuki nodded to the blonde at the bar then turned to Mikura, "how about you?" "Soda," Mikura said. At Mitsuki's questioning look she smiled faintly, "I am still on the job, remember." "And you're doing well, too." Mikura followed her to a table, absent mindedly noticing the sway of her hips. In fact if she was honest she had been noticing things about Mitsuki all day, from the scent of her perfume to her shining smile. Mikura made sure Mitsuki was sitting with her back to a wall, then sat down beside her. "Do you think who ever's after you will try here?" she asked. "Too public," Mitsuki took a drink of her beer then turned the glass thoughtfully. "I have a confession to make," she said. "Yes?" Mikura kept a eye on the crowd. "I asked for you to guard me for a reason," she admitted. Mitsuki took a deep breath, "It's about your sister..."
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