The rattling sounded unnaturally loud, when Roronoa kicked a can down the street, strolling down the block.
/Sacked once more/ He concluded in his head sullenly.
Still his ears rang from the blistering lecture that damn hag had tractated him with, before chasing him out her shop.
Politeness towards customers, restraint, self-control, morality, young bucks who don't know how to respect...
None of that had anything to do with that... fine specimen of a prickass, taunting him for no reason or provocation whatsoever.
Ten Minutes, ten whole minutes he had listened, not spoken even one word and continued to fill up the racks.
Ten. Minutes.
That alone was more of patience than he considered fair.
Ten Minutes until the first packages „accidentally" dropped out of the racks behind him and this impudent gimp sneeringly requested for him to „do his job properly"
Still rage bubbled in the young man, remembering the brazen grin. He kicked the can a little harder and made it tumble farther with a hollow click.
One hand brushed through his short green hair.
At that, his reaction had even been muted in comparison to its cause.
One purposeful grip at the arm that already moved towards the next shelf, one hard, barely visible jerk.
Few moments later he was leading the uncomfortable „customer" without any violence to the parking lot in front of the store, where he could wait, silently whimpering and not at all that impudent anymore, for the ambulance.
Well, actually breaking his wrist instead of just dislocating it hadn't been intended, but really, who could blame him for his anger?
How dare this foolish brat to talk about working. Probably never lifted a finger in his life to earn one Yen by himself.
Roronoa had even apologized, though he didn't think of it as necessesary – for what reason?
None. None at all. If he was lucky he might still be able to pay the next rent, what to eat for the rest of this month was a mystery to him.
The can rolled towards an entranceway. He raised his head and looked around.
Only at this moment he realized his surroundings.
After the uncomfortable discussion with his former boss he had just started to walk without any thought about direction or destination.
Where on earth was he?
Judging by the signs and advertisements he seemed to be in some kind of amusement district, that was almost deserted now at late afternoon.
He looked up at the sign on the house his blind ramble had led him to. „Dix Fleurs" was written there in ornate, golden script above the entranceway.
Stone stairs led down into the houses basement.
On their upper landing, he spotted the can.
He just wanted to transport it back into the street, when a poster, hidden in a niche, next to the steps caught his eye.
„HELP WANTED! Club 'Dix Fleurs' is currently looking for supportive hands. Applications in the Club to Madam Robin, Manager. Wage negotiable."
Slightly unbelieving the young man glared at the words.
Might there be something like destiny after all?
During the past months and years he had started and lost more jobs, he worked his backside off to find, than he cared to count.
On construction sites, as delivery-boy, moving helper, even as a cleaner, just to get kicked out for one reason or another.
So why not take this opportunity that almost fell into his lap.
Shrugging he wiped away his doubts and stepped onto the stairs first step.
While he descended into the twilight, a slight spark of hope bloomed inside of him
Why shouldn't there be something like lucky chance for him as well sometimes...
At the stairs base he reached a heavy wooden door.
Not seeing another way to go he tried the handle. Not locked.
A little nervous after all he stepped into a dim, narrow corridor. Suddenly he stopped and listened.
Yes, there actually seemed to be someone at the end of the hallway
One step, one more step. Now he could discern a hushed, husky laugh, whispered words and... the unmistakeable moan hit Roronoa like lightning.
Impossible. This just couldn't... Muted red light shimmered through the gap of a half closed door. He approached it and tried to make out something in the semidarkness.
A stage with silver poles, the walls lined with small boothes, small tables and chairs spread out all around, one side consisting of a bar and-
The handsome blonde was leaning his head back in pleasure. His unbuttoned shirt had slid down one shoulder exposing fair skin, that appeared almost surreal in the allusive illumination.
He lasciviously rested his back against the counter, his lips slightly parted, his fingers curled into a dark mane of hair that, partly hidden by the bar moved up and down rhytmically
Roronoa felt his body turning hot.
He wanted to turn away, run away. He really didn't want to watch that but still, when another deep sigh shivered over the blondes soft lips, he felt as if he had lost all control of his limbs.
Mesmerized he stared at the lean strong body that trembled in the dusky light, the long and slender fingers playing with the black curls, the eyelids, closed in arousal...
Roronoa staggered backwards, when the eyes suddenly opened and looked straight at him, examining him with a half slighting, half mocking look
„In case you're here for Madam, just look over there. Otherwise, do me a favor and get lost"
His voice was husky and quiet ,but there was a hint of urge and impatience too.
One hand indicated a door on the other side of the room
The eyes closed once more and his fingers encouraged the figure behind the counter to continue, what the harsh comment had interrupted.
To be continued...
