"Don't be an asshole, Blaine. Just get in the fucking car!" came the voice of one of his friends, amidst raucous shouts of laughter, "We'll find someone for you! Maybe just a really man-ish chick, you know? Square jaw, hunched shoulders, beard." Another round of laughter from everyone in the limousine.
Blaine sighed exasperatedly before finally ducking into the car and rolling his eyes. "I'm gay. That doesn't mean I like cavemen, you jerk." He jostled his way in between Wes and David, glaring at Nick, who had spoken.
"If all else fails, you can dance for the ladies. It's not really about you, bro. It's my birthday, and I'll see hot girls if I want to!" crowed Jeff, already a little drunk, and incredibly excited about his surprise. Blaine laughed uneasily as he straightened his cufflinks, trying to get comfortable with his two friends jostling him constantly.
He didn't expect to have any fun. He was here because Jeff was his friend- because they were all his friends, even if they were giving him a hard time tonight. Their families had known each other since their parents had gone to Dalton University here in New York. Their dads had all been Warblers, and had insisted their sons do the same as they entered college, saying it was all about legacy and family honor, and other things Blaine really could care less about.
It wasn't that Blaine was disrespectful or anything- quite the opposite. In fact, he was usually the responsible one, being the almost constant designated driver. He had been like that even in high school, with his friends always riding him to loosen up, dragging him to parties he really had no desire to attend. Just like this one.
The problem was his father. Mr. Anderson hadn't cared about Blaine since about sophomore year of high school, when he had found out that Blaine was gay- shattering his dreams of having an All-American family. No self-respecting man had a fag for a son. At least, that's what Blaine's father seemed to think. He had nearly disowned him, after Blaine's mother had talked to him, and he had the chance to cool down, the past six years had seen them settled into the routine of avoiding each other whenever possible and speaking in brief, monosyllabic words when directly addressed.
After an eternity of driving through downtown New York, and Blaine constantly but politely refusing offers of alcohol from his increasingly rowdy friends, they arrived.
They all piled out onto the sidewalk in front of the club, night wrapped around them and drawing them closer to the neon lights of the sleek, modern building.
The second the thick tinted glass doors slid open with a calm woosh, they eagerly crowded inside, glad to be out of the cold. The lobby area was carpeted in creamy beige with what appeared to be leather furniture and the walls were bare except for an oblong mirror on one side. It was hard to tell because the entire room was bathed in a soft blue light. A woman with a sleek black bob greeted them with a lofty smile.
"Welcome," she greeted, flashing a row of blindingly white teeth, "Names, please?"
Blaine quickly stepped forwards, "Blaine Anderson and party."
The woman glanced down; scanning the computer screen in front of her, smile reappearing as she seemed to find his name on the list. She didn't move, however, eyeing Blaine meaningfully. He quickly reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, slipping her a couple hundred dollar bills. She stepped out from behind her desk and nodded.
Blaine had made the arrangements in his name because that had been his job. David had gotten the limo, Wes had chosen the place, Nick had kept Jeff busy so they could keep it a surprise as long as possible, and Thad- well, Thad had brought the champagne.
The woman led the way out of the waiting area and down a tiled hall, heels clicking in the silence. The boys had all fallen quiet as soon as they had stepped inside. It just didn't feel like the kind of place you'd want to be shouting and waving your glass around. At least, not out here.
At the end of the hallway, they came to a large metal door with the Playboy symbol glowing pink right smack in the middle of it. They could hear the bass of the music pulsing from behind the door. Jeff jostled into Nick excitedly, eyes wide. Blaine merely sighed, resigning himself to a night of herding his friends.
The woman stood between them and the door, her quiet gaze drawing their attention immediately. "There are only three rules here. They must be followed at all times, or consequences will be felt. Heavy consequences."
They looked at each other, nervously eager, not missing the subtle threat behind her words. She continued, "There will be no kissing the Bunnies." Wes raised an eyebrow at David, who shrugged.
"The Bunnies have all control at all times."
"Kinky," smirked Jeff, who was quickly elbowed into silence by Blaine.
"And thirdly, although it hardly need be said, no falling in love."
That produced a loud snort from Nick, who immediately withered under the lady's cold glare.
"You are not to ask for any personal information," she clarified. "No last names, no phone numbers, nothing. Is that clear?" She asked, holding each of their gazes in turn.
They all nodded solemnly, and she nodded, smile returning. She stepped aside, around a corner.
They heard the muted beeps of a hidden keypad and the door slid open. "Welcome to the Playboy Club boys. Enjoy yourselves."