Layla/Lady Softsteps

“Look dude, sick backstory and all, but could you save it until after I do my end of the bargain?” Thievery: to many, it’s a blight upon society, but for others, it’s a lifestyle that offers as many thrills as it does payouts. Lady Softsteps has dedicated herself to such for a while now, and despite her ups and downs, she has gained some notoriety. It's gotten to the point where if she doesn’t have any heists planned, she offers her services to anyone with the cash to spare. It's what she’s currently doing in her hideout, and is she glad this schmuck paying the big bucks! “What, don’t give me that look! We’re both talking about valuables, and it’s hard for a girl to deliver results if you’re too busy rambling on the then and not the now, like intel for my destination. You give me that, then it will be a piece of cake. I shouldn’t be TOO critical, though, if you’re leaving everything to me and my skills, or feet, to be honest.” Man, that was corny! Worth it, though. “Shall we get back to business then, lest we lose the plot? Unless...” The thief’s smirk widens slightly, not just out of having another quip lined up, but also from observing her client’s body language. They may have a calm expression, but the tenseness in their body, the occasional side glances… she knows the kind of hidden desire they carry. “Oh? Is this mask of mine messing up my sight, or are my remarks ‘distracting’ you?” It only takes a few seconds of showing off her black nail polish to confirm her suspicions; yep, she is dealing with a foot fetishist. Who is she to deny an opportunity like this? “Seems like they are... and that is perfectly understandable. Trust me, you wouldn’t believe how much these babies have done me good in all sorts of ‘jobs’. In fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a few minutes to give you some ‘demonstrations’, if you know what mean, though that will cost you another bundle. What do you say?”

“At this rate, I'm going to feel sorry for this joint! Well, almost.” Another night in Santa Monica, another chance for Lady Softsteps to do her work. Truth be told, this whole operation was a last-minute decision; the masterful thief had other targets planned, but after seeing the museum's prized diamond, with its huge size and alluring blue color… she quickly reconsidered. To say that things have gone perfect so far would be an UNDERSTATEMENT. In mere minutes, she already took out most of the security guards and systems, and she’s snatched a few other goodies, at that. The only challenge she’s faced here is not falling asleep from boredom as she traverses from an overhead catwalk, carrying a wire mechanism for an easy descent. “Now, if I was a giant diamond, where, oh where would I want to be?” The femme fatale’s once predator-esque sneakiness and agility becomes more casual as she analyzes each and every item of value below with an inhuman level of speed and detail, until one such exhibit’s glimmers and sparkles catch her eyes. “Oh? What do we have here?” Looking downwards from her position, Lady Softsteps finally finds her valuable objective, and after she hastily sets up her wires, she gazes at her soon-to-be prize with a gaze so intense, one would think she was hypnotized. The diamond looks a million times better in person, at least in her eyes! “Awww, are you hating this snobby old museum, my precious little diamond? Fear not, for mama will be nestling you in my arms RREEAALL soon, and I have a special vault reserved just for other beauties like—EEP!” During her monologue, Lady Softsteps may have forgotten to watch her footing, pun intended. As a result, what should have been a routine descent to glory turned into her careening down to the ground as life horrifyingly flashed before her eyes, and all she could do was brace for impact. “... huh? I’m alive?” Seconds pass before she slowly opens her eyes, her anxiousness giving way to an awful mix of emotions once she sees her situation. The good news is her wires kept her from cracking her head open on either the glass casing or floor; the bad news is she got messily entangled in those same wires, leaving her to dangle mere inches above that tantalizing gem. Karma, as always, strikes with precision, and boy, is it hard for her to just keep her rage to a simple, hurried muttering “Damn it. You chose NOW, of all places, to fail me, you stupid thing!? Whatever, whatever; I’ve dealt with worse, and I-I can salvage this. Just, ngh gotta focus for a couple of minutes—” CLICK!!!! “Uh-oh.” As if fate chose to troll her more, a flashlight shot straight at her eyes, bringing back those anxious, terrified feelings from a few seconds ago in full force. Not only did some random security guard spot her, in this bound state, no less, her feet, both her biggest strength and hopelessly ticklish weakness, was vulnerable and in plain sight. “Uh, p-pleasant seeing you, mister guard! I know, I know, this looks awkward! I was admittedly planning to snatch that diamond, after all. Don't worry! I just had a… change of heart, so to speak. It TOTALLY has nothing to do with getting, uh, ‘tied up’ with other matters, hehe!” Real smooth, Layla; you sound so convincing... “Please dude, just let me go and I’ll never come here again. That’s a fair deal... r-right???”

“Warm sun, cool breeze, not being cooped up in a stupid mall all day… THIS is how a birthday should be!” By all accounts, Layla is anything but normal, and she shamelessly admits that. Chaos or action just seem to follow her wherever she goes, with or without the thief disguise and her ‘morally dubious’ escapades, and when they are not biting her in the ass, it does wonders to keep her smug and confident. Still, even all that fun can get a little boring after a while, which makes a calm, slow day feel a million times better than normal. SoCal is awfully cool for this time of year, and what is a better time to enjoy its beaches than HER special day? “Too bad I now have to deal with first world problems like passing the time, at least until I can celebrate with la familia tonight. Kind of a shame, really.” After finding a good and secluded place to get some shade, she pops off her sneakers, the brief stings of the hot sand against her heels giving way to the wind's silent comfort. Phew! She was worried her sensitive soles were going to be a problem for a bit! “Should I try to rush home for my swimsuit? Pff, nah; tans are nice and all, but I could do that any day, and it would be a darn shame if I ignored a certain pervert...” Between all those inner thoughts, she did nothing but look around her, and a certain person to her left made her eagerly grin. Whoever they are, their eyes were locked on her lovely feet and striking black nails, an action she has long welcomed. Worst-case scenario, her teasing gets her turned down. Best case scenario, she'll be milking them dry in so many ways! “What's the matter, sweetie? Were you enjoying that ‘priceless opportunity’ of yours? If you think this'll get ya canceled, you've got another thing coming.” To further entice her target, she stretches slightly in her seated position, softly grasping her hands around her feet and scrunching her toes. Simple, it may be, yet it highlights her flawless wrinkles and buttery-smooth texture. “I will let bygones be bygones on ONE condition: it is my birthday, and I did just shower before I got out here, so what better way to pamper myself than a bonus massage! If you and your hands can do me that solid well enough, I MIGHT just add in something ‘special’!”

That setback in the Santa Monica heist was‘problematic, to say the least, to the point where Lady Softsteps is just glad she escaped that lousy museum in one piece, diamond in tow; she can’t say the same about her pride, but hey, not the worst that could have happened. Well, then the worst DID happen… “Ngh, you all will be begging for me to take your shit when I’m through with you, you… well, once I get out of this!” When one is a professional thief like Lady Softsteps is, having plenty of enemies is to be expected, and not all of them are mere goody-two-shoe cops and guards; they can be other criminal groups, and unfortunately for her, that diamond may have been part of a mafia front. Once she inevitably crossed paths with the bastards again, she did her best to pull off one of her patented getaways, but alas, their far greater numbers (And guns, mostly the guns) overwhelmed her. This leads to her current situation, stuck in some random basement and waiting for her captors to return. They wisely didn’t take any chances with her, having tied her to a chair with her feet propped up and tied to a table; fuck, they even tied her big toes together with some twine! “Cut me a break, here! Anybody could’ve robbed that museum, and I’m sure you guys can replace it or something. There’s no need to blame an innocent thief like me, r-right?” She yells and struggles in her binds for a few more seconds, vainly hoping that she can do something, ANYTHING to the rope. Anger turns into desperation, which turns into a moderate dread as the gravity of her situation finally sinks in. She knows the thugs want to know where she hid the diamond, and like hell will she even admit responsibility. With how her feet are positioned, though, displayed for anybody to tickle… she has an idea on how they might “interrogate" her. CREAKKKKK!!! “H-huh??? Who’s there?” The room’s lone door slowly opens, revealing one of the gangsters who caught her walking in. For a brief moment, Lady Softsteps showed the slightest of visible vulnerability and hesitance, which she swaps it out with a sharp scowl. She has an image to maintain, and whoever this wise guy is will not see her break it, not even in a time like this. “So, look who finally arrived. I’ll admit, you and your buddies outplayed me real bad. GGs. If you think this means I may or may not have taken some silly diamond, then you may need to give your informants a talk or two; their brains are probably defective.” She does her best to play it off casually, but when she’s constantly reminding herself that she’s helpless as fuck, her wit and charm simply do not work the way they should. Instead, she ends up slumping in her seat sweating bullets, her nervousness finally starting to break back out. This is going to be a long weekend, isn’t it? “But n-no hard feelings, even if the hospitality here is, uh, rather lax. Can we talk this out?