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<blockquote data-quote="Mark Chance" data-source="post: 1029219" data-attributes="member: 2795"><p>Sabrina Starr's penthouse apartment thrums with the pulsing beat of Yellowman, the reggae singer's vaguely menacing voice chanting in nearly incomprehensible Jamaican patois, filling the sunken living room, rolling off of the art deco furnishings. Jimmy Preston, employee of Ms. Starr, rushes in from another room and snatches up the cordless.</p><p></p><p>After two rings, a rich, melodious voice says, "<span style="color: deeppink">Talk to me.</span>"</p><p></p><p>"Jimmy here. Trouble in Paradise. The casino, that is."</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: deeppink">Cute, Jimmy,</span>" the woman says. "<span style="color: deeppink">I'm on my way. Make sure the press knows.</span>"</p><p></p><p>"Way ahead of you, Sabrina. Calls already made. Over and out."</p><p></p><p>Sabrina Starr grinned as she pocketed her cell. Jimmy has too much fun with this super-hero schtick. Waving to a group of teenagers who just recognized her, Sabrina slips her jet black and emerald green high gloss helmet back on her head, and then revves the engine of her Harley Sportster. Thunder rumbles from the finely-tuned machine, and Sabrina races away toward the Paradise Casino.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://home.houston.rr.com/mchance3/img_family_Sportster.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p> <span style="font-size: 9px">The Harley Sportster, for visual reference.</span></p><p></p><p>The roar of rushing air, the roar of the motorcycle, the roar of adrenaline as it begins to pump through Sabrina's body. <em>This</em> is living.</p><p></p><p>Traffic grows more congested the closer she gets to the casino, but the bike maneuvers easily enough between the vehicles, even if it does mean bouncing up onto a sidewalk or two. People start to point. Sabrina is easy to recognize, even with the helmet on.</p><p></p><p>She wears a tight patent leather one-piece, black with yellow trim. Bold script across her back announces: Diva. The vanity plates on the Harley say the same. Once Sabrina is within sight of the casino, seeing the police, ambulances, and news crews, she glides to a stop just long enough to stow the helmet and check her hair.</p><p></p><p>Time to look good for the cameras. Sabrina rolls forward, slowly, gracefully, the Harley's engine announcing her arrival. Smile flashing at the TV camera, she presses two fingers to her lips and then raises them to her fans. Peace!</p><p></p><p>Sabrina Starr, the Diva, comes to a stop near Dr. Smooth's Lincoln, boots down the kick stand, and slides to her feet. In heels, she is just over six feet tall, an Amazon and a beauty.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: deeppink">I'm a brickhouse,</span>" she sings softly. "<span style="color: deeppink">I'm mighty, mighty.</span>" Then, louder: "<span style="color: deeppink">Evening, Doctor, Ghost, Infernal.</span>" With a nod and a salute: "<span style="color: deeppink">Officer.</span>"</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px">Edit: Punctuation, spelling, added color.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mark Chance, post: 1029219, member: 2795"] Sabrina Starr's penthouse apartment thrums with the pulsing beat of Yellowman, the reggae singer's vaguely menacing voice chanting in nearly incomprehensible Jamaican patois, filling the sunken living room, rolling off of the art deco furnishings. Jimmy Preston, employee of Ms. Starr, rushes in from another room and snatches up the cordless. After two rings, a rich, melodious voice says, "[color=deeppink]Talk to me.[/color]" "Jimmy here. Trouble in Paradise. The casino, that is." "[color=deeppink]Cute, Jimmy,[/color]" the woman says. "[color=deeppink]I'm on my way. Make sure the press knows.[/color]" "Way ahead of you, Sabrina. Calls already made. Over and out." Sabrina Starr grinned as she pocketed her cell. Jimmy has too much fun with this super-hero schtick. Waving to a group of teenagers who just recognized her, Sabrina slips her jet black and emerald green high gloss helmet back on her head, and then revves the engine of her Harley Sportster. Thunder rumbles from the finely-tuned machine, and Sabrina races away toward the Paradise Casino. [IMG]http://home.houston.rr.com/mchance3/img_family_Sportster.jpg[/IMG] [SIZE=1]The Harley Sportster, for visual reference.[/SIZE] The roar of rushing air, the roar of the motorcycle, the roar of adrenaline as it begins to pump through Sabrina's body. [i]This[/i] is living. Traffic grows more congested the closer she gets to the casino, but the bike maneuvers easily enough between the vehicles, even if it does mean bouncing up onto a sidewalk or two. People start to point. Sabrina is easy to recognize, even with the helmet on. She wears a tight patent leather one-piece, black with yellow trim. Bold script across her back announces: Diva. The vanity plates on the Harley say the same. Once Sabrina is within sight of the casino, seeing the police, ambulances, and news crews, she glides to a stop just long enough to stow the helmet and check her hair. Time to look good for the cameras. Sabrina rolls forward, slowly, gracefully, the Harley's engine announcing her arrival. Smile flashing at the TV camera, she presses two fingers to her lips and then raises them to her fans. Peace! Sabrina Starr, the Diva, comes to a stop near Dr. Smooth's Lincoln, boots down the kick stand, and slides to her feet. In heels, she is just over six feet tall, an Amazon and a beauty. "[color=deeppink]I'm a brickhouse,[/color]" she sings softly. "[color=deeppink]I'm mighty, mighty.[/color]" Then, louder: "[color=deeppink]Evening, Doctor, Ghost, Infernal.[/color]" With a nod and a salute: "[color=deeppink]Officer.[/color]" [SIZE=1]Edit: Punctuation, spelling, added color.[/SIZE] [/QUOTE]
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