Lorcan was bemused. This was understandable, however, as he had just walked into a strip club. With poles. Now, this wouldn't cause afore mentioned bemusement under normal circumstances, but these were not normal circumstances. The strip club, you see, was currently situated in what was once his study.
Gone were his shelves, filled with old, rare first editions. Gone was his mahogany Victorian desk, his green leather wingback chair, his green Victorian desk lamp. In their place was a red velvet covered chair, a small elevated stage area, and a shiny silver pole reaching from floor to ceiling.
"Lysander! What the fuck have you done? Lysander!" he screamed, storming out of his study and through the rest of house. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw a piece of folded over paper on the centre island. Snatching it up he considered just screwing it up and tossing it in the bin, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Opening it he recognised Lysander's messy scrawl and proceeded to read.
Lorcan,
In the bedroom.
L. xx
Right, so the situation had taken a sharp right turn into Whatthefucksville, but…okay. Turning, he made his way upstairs and walked through the door into his and Lysander's bedroom, seeing another piece of folded paper lying on the bed, next to a pile of at least 20 five pound notes. Lorcan was fully aware of his brother's fascination with all things muggle, having been dragged to muggle cinemas, muggle museums, muggle clubs and pubs. The muggle sex shop had been interesting though. Lorcan firmly believed that the TV had been invented purely for watching porn on, though he drew the line at those weird midget porn films, those just freaked him out.
Opening the paper, he quickly read what his lunatic brother had written.
Lorcan,
Take off your tie, under you top button, come to the study and wait til the door opens to enter.
L xx
Lorcan had never been a fan of games, but Lysander was, and he always found himself going along with whatever stupid scheme Lysander came up with. Following the instructions on the note, he went back downstairs and leaned against the wall opposite the door to his study. Frowning slightly, Lorcan realised he was feeling slightly apprehensive about whatever was to come next. Lysander was always the more outré twin, sometimes going a bit too far. The time he had been allowed to arrange Hugo's twenty fifth birthday party, and the strippers had had to obliviated was a prime example of this.
The door slowly opened, dragging Lorcan out of his snigger inducing memory, and making him scornfully wonder where the ominous creak was, as if there was a time for an ominous creak, this was it.
Entering the room, Lorcan was confronted with the vision of horror from before. The pole, the chair, the stage. Only now, the stage had a spotlight shining onto it, and there was music in the background. A note sat on the chair, and Lorcan knew before he opened it what it said.
Lorcan,
Sit, and make sure you're comfortable.
L xx
Grudgingly, Lorcan did he was told and sat on the chair, hands resting on the ends of the arms of chair.
"Well?" he said to the room. "Let's get this over with shall we?"
The spotlight went out, the room suddenly so dark that Lorcan couldn't even make out any shadows. Music started, not something Lorcan recognised, but slow and sensual. The spotlight came back on, and in front of him, was Lysander, wrapped around the pole, dressed in…..Christ almighty, Lorcan thought to himself, dressed in a black and dark purple corset, thong, garter belt, black seamed stockings and 4 inch heels. The top hat on his head was set at a jaunty angle. Trying desperately not to burst out into hysterical laughter, he got up, grabbed Lysander by the wrist and began to drag him towards the stairs.
"Lor, I haven't even started my routine!" Lysander pouted.
"Doesn't matter." Lorcan replied, determined to get to the bedroom and rip off that ridiculous fucking corset off Lysander and taste the skin under it. The heels could stay on though.
