Love Novel

[silberstreif]

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, Prowl or anything recognizable.
Beta: Starfire201

Rating: PG-13
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, OCs
Summary: A high society party in Praxus, a band member mixing with the other guests and a small mistake...

Love Novel

It was the social event of the deca-orn in Praxus and everybody of distinction had been invited to the mansion in the middle of the city. And of course, they all had come. None of the nobles, wealthy, or famous wanted to miss a chance to flaunt their superior education and culture and the small, private home celebration of the reclusive author of over a dozen groundbreaking novels was the perfect opportunity to do so. Particularly since, according to carefully spread rumours, the first chapter of a new book would be revealed.

For Jazz, all this didn't really matter as he stood in the elegant dark blue foyer and watched the arriving guests. They all were so rich and acted as if nothing could touch them, while in reality they were scheming, creating cut-throat alliances, and forsaking their own friends in the typical frenzy of decadence which the upper class possessed. Perfect. Finally, after all these vorns of hard work he was exactly where he always should have been. If he was lucky, this evening would provide the stepping stone he needed...

"Primus," whispered Buster next to him, rapt in contemplation. "Do you see her? The aft, those optics, and that finish! Please tell me, some slagger didn't deactivate me on the way here..."

Jazz watched as the attractive femme swaggered past. Light flashed on her exquisitely polished edges and underlined every single sensual movement.
"I think that's Stardust, an actress. They say she interfaced with the governor of Typhern."

"Who could blame that fellow?" The minibot grinned. "She defines berthworthy new."

Someone hit them on the helmets.

"Milage! What the pit-?" protested Buster.

The stocky, new mech gave him an angry stare. He was obviously built for heavy work and not for beauty as most other guests. He stood out like a cyberslug in the middle of Iacon.
"We're here to work, not to ogle at the guests."

"But that was Stardust!"

"And even if she were the Prime herself, for us they're unreachable."

"Milage, our performance is in a few joors. Until then, we can have a bit of fun, right?" Jazz tried to placate his team member. "I mean, hey, how often can bots like us visit such parties?"

The answer was never, and all three knew it. Their little band was only invited on the recommendation of a fan, who had an acquaintance who worked among the staff here. Basically, their presence was nearly a miracle.

"I'm only saying... just forget those femmes here, they wouldn't notice us if we ripped our sparks out and presented them on a silver platter."

"You're too serious." Buster put an arm around his bigger friend. "Can't a mech dream?"

"Yeah, but you always dream the impossible." Milage discreetly pointed towards a group at the right. "Look at that beauty there. Great red, hot curves and those sultry looks... At the best, I bet she's a pleasure bot."

Buster looked there and back. "You sure?"

"You doubt me, punk?" He poked him into his side. "She's just not one of those gutter bots, but finest good. I think they even have a different name..."

As the conversation continued, Jazz noticed someone approaching and muttered, "Quiet guys. Here comes our employer."

"Oh." Instantly, they stood straight and got serious.

Purposefully and without any hint of a smile, an older black-silver bot came towards them.
"Good evening, gentlebots. How do you like this small gathering so far?"

"It's wonderful, thank you." Free energon, divine sweets and all bots a feast for the optics... What more could a mech want?

"That's good to hear." He glanced in a distracted way towards the next group that had just arrived. "Your performance is in two joors and fifteen breems. Until then, you're welcomed as guests at this celebration. We'll cover all your expenses."

Jazz nodded, knowing that in these parts of society "all" meant "all and everything you ever wished for". Engeron, dancers, pleasure bots, drugs and things Jazz couldn't even imagine. "Thank you."

The bot only nodded and walked towards the next guest. The chance was high that he had already forgotten their band existed before reaching those nobles.

Jazz looked cheerfully towards his friends. "Did you hear? We're guests."

Buster grinned. "Great." Without a doubt he would try to woo the actress despite the warnings.

Milage, on the other hand, glanced towards the femme he had pointed out earlier. "Well, everymech tries his own luck?"

"Of course. We can compare our catches later!" As if he would have it any other way.

"Jazz, I fear that this time you'll fail pathetically." Buster patted his shoulders pityingly.

"Dream on." Jazz had always won this particular competition and he would win this time again. "I bet five cubes that at the end of this evening I'll have the most beautiful one on my arm and you're alone!"

His friends laughed, accepting the challenge.

They separated and Jazz strolled between all the nobles and beauties and pleasure bots. With many he talked; some knew him from past performances, and some were very interested in his career though he stayed with none of them for very long. They all were too cold and unnatural for the fun-loving mech to feel at ease. Bored, he tried the different high-grades and walked around searching for someone that sparked his interest and would help him to win his bet.

"Excuse me, sir," someone suddenly asked. "You wouldn't know by chance were the normal Energon has been placed?"

Jazz blinked as he found himself in front of a slender, elegant Praxian, who waited nervously for the answer.

"Normal Energon?" asked Jazz and wanted to hit himself for his stupidity. What kind of answer was that?

Thankfully, the Praxian didn't seem to notice his stumble and nodded. "Yes, I only get High-grade offered, but... I don't want to drink it."

Jazz couldn't help himself and his optics lingered longer than was appropriate on those twitching wings. They were white, with black highlights, just like the whole mech. Very tasteful, high-end quality, but nowhere platinum or other valuable metal. He was no noble. Jazz relaxed somewhat:

"You don't want to drink? Well, to everybot their own. Let me think... at the entrance and here they had only confections... No, sorry, I don't know."

The doorwings dropped a bit and Jazz realised he was staring again. "Oh. Then I'll look somewhere else. Thank you for your help."
He tried to look over the mechs around them, failed, and turned towards the entrance, a step away from disappearing into the crowd.

"Hey, wait!" With two big steps, Jazz was next to him. "I'll come with you, if you don't mind."

The Praxian looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because I want to?" And because this was the most beautiful bot of the evening so far, who wasn't a noble. The doorwings twitched again and something in Jazz fluttered. He would win his bet with this bot, no doubt.
"And two pairs of optics see more than one."

"I see."

It was a bit reserved and Jazz didn't like it. He wanted to see him smile. "I'm Jazz, by the way."

As expected (and hoped for), the Praxian gifted him with an interested look. "Are you a part of the Jazz band?"

"Yes." The longer he looked at his prey, the more certain he was that the Praxian wasn't famous. He had never seen him before and someone used to interviews would be more confident. Pleasure bot, maybe? It would explain why he drank no High-grade, it diminished his performance. "Have you heard of me?"

A small nod. "I've seen you play in the Elysium. You were very good."

One of his best and biggest performances to date. What luck!
"Thank you. It wasn't anything special but it's always great to hear that people like us. Do you watch bands often?"

The bot hesitated, and Jazz feared that he had said the wrong thing in the conversation somewhere, then: "Sometimes. If my work leads me to such a place..."

Bingo. Definitely a pleasure bot. Who else worked on concerts? "That's great. You should come just for fun and not only to work. I'll promise if you do, I show you the backstage."

"Your offer is very obliging." The Praxian seemed to think for a short moment and then added a bit quieter: "Maybe someorn I'll take you up on it." He shrugged and the doorwings twitched again so tantalizingly.

Forget the bet. He wanted this mech in his berth before the orn was over and pleasure him until he knew all bis moans by heart.

"I'll await that day eagerly. Are you free tonight, my friend?"

The Praxian turned his head to the side, and Jazz took a moment to admire this sharp, and strong chevron atop a face full of character and secrets.
"Free?"

"Yes." Then he remembered, that maybe he had to work for a certain time on this celebration even after his performance. "After this party here, of course and only if you have time."

If not, he would wait for another orn. This bot was worth waiting for.

Another hesitation and then, slowly, the Praxian seemed to smile. The fluttering was nearly painful.
"I would be delighted."

"Wonderful." Inside he cheered. "When - ?" But the other held up a hand.

"Please wait a moment." Jazz, who recognized the signs of an internal communication, kept silent until his future berthcompanion looked at him again. "It seems I'm needed by the head of the staff. You have to excuse me."

"No problem." He smiled, but it was more than a little forced. How much he wanted to berth that bot right here and now, and the thought that some old mech who organized the staff would get him...! But no. He had tonight. "When do we meet?"

"At two, at the entrance?"

"Gladly." The Praxian gave him another shy smile and turned to walk away again.

That was the moment Jazz remembered something. "Hey, wait a moment. I still need your number."

He stopped in mid-step. "My number?"

Jazz smiled. It seems as if the Praxian didn't want to treat this as a business obligation, and a part of him rejoiced at this. He wasn't just another client for him. But at the same time, he couldn't accept the sacrifice. Life was hard enough for pleasure bots, without losing the payment of a night with a possible noble. At least this way he could compensate him a bit.

"Sure. I was told, that all of my expenses would be covered and among those expenses are Pleasure bots. We don't have, I mean, well..." He stumbled and felt himself blush. When had his optics wandered towards the floor? "I just don't want to be the one who makes you miss your payment."

Silence. Jazz frowned, as something within him clenched worriedly. Maybe that hadn't been a good idea to say? He looked up and nearly flinched as he saw the dark and cold face of his new acquaintance.

"Pleasure bot?" The question was quiet, nearly unbelieving.

Jazz could only nod slowly, even though he knew with every fibre of his being that he shouldn't. But his previous words were spoken and heard, and nothing could change them any more.

The Praxian looked at him for a too long moment, turned abruptly, and nearly ran away. Even though more than a few guests looked surprised at being pushed out of his path, he didn't stop until he reached a plain door and disappeared behind it.

Jazz still stood in the same spot, gaping and feeling the loss of something he couldn't name.

Note: Has the potential to be turned into a whole story, if I only had more time. Maybe in summer. :)

~silber

Comments

[silberstreif.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I will try my best. :)