I would like to add that I've never been to a strip club, or had any participation in any such things. It merely a plot device for this story and does not reflect my views on the subject so please refrain from comments such as: Strip clubs are for trash. or any other sort of negative comments about such.
A/N: The first chapter was co-wrote with a fellow author. There is another story out there with a similar story line. but this story is not in any way connected with that story and was not thought about until after the first chapter was wrote. This one came about from some general silliness in writing A Little Self-Education.
William didn't pay attention to the name the club as Eric dragged him inside. He only knew that he didn't really want to be in this place or in this part of time. He had a reputation to uphold after all as an emotionless, cold man who thought only of business and numbers. Besides, he had no idea why Eric would think he would be interested in male strippers. Honestly. Did his lack of dates lead Eric to some sort of erroneous assumption?
The music was low and actually tasteful to William's surprise as Eric pulled him to a table right next to the stage. A slender brunette was dancing, and it was obviously him that had Eric's attention. He had been working at a bouncer for this seedy place for nearly a month now, and William had heard more than his fair share about someone named Alan. The aforementioned man went about his routine in a sexual yet somewhat mechanical way. He wasn't the kind that would have caught William's eye, even if he was interested in this sort of thing, but Eric was obviously entranced.
"Willy boy!" a familiar voice suddenly yelled, "Imagine seeing you here!"
Inwardly, William groaned as he turned to see a tall, silver-haired man standing way too close for comfort. He leaned even further into William's space with an odd sort of leer stretched across his face. "It's not what you think," William said, "I only came here for Eric, but I probably should be going. This isn't really my sort of place." He started to stand.
The man, whom William only knew as Undertaker, gently pushed William back into his seat. "Don't leave yet, Willy," he whispered, "The real show's about to begin."
Suddenly the lights dropped and a vague shadow slinked out onto the stage. When the lights returned, now tinted a rosy hue, a redhead was draped against a pole. His fair skin stood out from the darkness as he began to sway ever so slightly. Still dressed, William's eyes were drawn down to the slender hips as they moved as hypnotically as a snake. His mouth had gone dry as he watched, and he wasn't even aware he had leaned forward until he bumped the table. Meanwhile, the redhead had begun to move as his long delicate fingers began to slowly unbutton his top. William noticed that the dancer was wearing something like a mock-up of a business suit, much like his own, but William didn't have much time to consider it as the outfit was slowly, tantalizingly removed.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," said Undertaker, moving closer to the stage. The dancer glanced briefly at the silver-haired man. William thought he saw a hint of derision on the man's face as he looked away, removing more of his suit, singing a short, erotic song as he did so. William didn't pay attention to the words of the song; the man's voice as he sang was too entrancing and he felt is heart beat faster. He was even barely aware of the backup dancer that had temporarily joined the redhead as he danced and sang.
The song ended and the music picked up a faster pace. In time, the redhead took to the pole with amazing agility. William had never seen anyone move like that before. It was almost inhuman. The dancer's pants were torturously removed as he moved, finally revealing lacy red underpants. The music hit its final note. The redhead posed on that note with his leg hooked around the pole and his finger to his lips in a shushing manner. The lights around him shut off. When they came back on, he had gone from the stage and some of the haze surrounding William lifted a little as Undertaker rejoined him.
"Someone looks like he enjoyed himself," he cackled. "Are you glad you stayed now?"
William continued to stare at the now empty stage. Had it been a dream? "What was that?" he finally said.
Undertaker leaned forward on the table with a roguish glint in his visible eye. "Would you like to find out?" William dragged his eyes from the stage to look at the man. "You can rent a private room and meet the precious ruby of this establishment. Just see Pops over there." He pointed to an older man across the crowded room. "He owns the place. Red doesn't come cheap now, I warn you, and she's quite feisty too." He added with a wink.
"She?" The dancer on the stage had clearly been a man. Undertaker merely shrugged his shoulders and left the table after paying for his drinks.
Eric returned from wherever he had gone to (William had not even noticed him leaving). His hair was tousled and his clothes rumpled. "You're still here?"
"I was compelled to stay," He answered absently.
"Ole Red caught your eye, eh?" Eric said with amusement. "Can't say I blame ya. Quite a looker that one. I admit I've been tempted by him a time or two myself, but I'd never do that to my Al." The brunette that was dancing when they came in quietly seated himself beside Eric dressed in regular clothes, though remnants of glitter remained on his face.
William looked back over to where the owner sat. He couldn't believe he was actually considering it. Undertaker was bent over the table where Pops sat. They seemed to be having a bit of an argument. It seemed Undertaker was trying to request a private audience with a dancer, presumably the so called 'Red', but kept being turned down. An irrational sense of relief filled him when Undertaker left after it became clear he wasn't going to get what he wanted.
William wasted no more time and went over to Pops. "How much?" he asked. "For a private room with the one they call 'Red' I mean." It didn't sit right with him as soon as the words left his mouth. Paying money for another person, a stranger, to pleasure him, but he had to see him again.
A young man with blonde and black hair and presumably a bodyguard standing beside Pops snapped a picture of William with his phone at the mention of Red. "'Red' as they call him, insists on seeing who is paying for his services beforehand," Pops stated unapologetically. After a moment's wait, the bodyguard gave Pops a thumbs up. Pops folded his hands upon the table and looked at William directly. "The lowest price we can offer is 1000 for one hour and includes just a private showing. To include a lap dance will run an extra hundred. Then there is the special R-rated package which cost 2500. It includes everything plus a little something extra, if you know what I mean." William didn't know much about how much private rooms generally cost, but that seemed an exorbitant amount for one dancer. Undertaker had said this dancer didn't come cheap, but still…"Which package are you interested in?"
"The special." What? The words just seemed to fall out of his mouth, like he had no longer any control over his actions. Regardless that his mind screamed he wasn't interested in this sort of thing, the money exchanged hands and William was escorted to a hall where they passed several doors that matched the color scheme of the club until they came to one that stuck out amongst the others as it had been painted red. The guard let him into the room.
"Wait here." The guard instructed. "Make yourself comfortable. He'll be here in a moment.
William took a seat on the plush red couch surrounded by crimson colored gossamer drapery. William was beginning to sense this man really like the color red. A heavy perfume hung in the air. Several times as he waited, he debated whether or not he should call it off and just leave. He was just coming to a decision, the door opened and the redhead entered. William stood to his feet. The dancer had changed into some sort of women's lingerie. Red of course. The top and robe was made of sheer fabric trimmed in black and the bottoms were a frilly layered mix of red and black. He eyed William coldly and said, "Let's get this over with." He pushed William down onto the couch and began his routine, starting off with straddling William's lap and grinding his hips provocatively. His movements were fluid, sensuous, and William had trouble tearing his eyes away, but the expression on the redhead's face was totally out of sync with his gyrating lower half.
"Wait a moment," William said hazily. He placed his hands on the man's hips and forced him to stop. "What is your name?" He didn't move his hands away immediately, and he couldn't deny how much enjoyed the feel of the rounded flesh beneath his palms.
The redhead blinked a few times as if no one had spoken to him before. "My name doesn't matter to you. Just call me Red like everyone else does. You paid me for pleasure not a friendly chat."
"I would much rather know your name." Though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.
"Look, darling, I'm trying to make a living here. Either let me do what you paid me for or get lost and don't expect a refund."
William made no move to leave, oddly comfortable and content to leave the mysterious redhead on his lap while he tried to sort through the torrid emotions swirling about inside him. Who was this creature who made his cold icy heart yearn to burn with fire? Was it love or lust? He wasn't sure, but he knew this was wrong and it didn't sit right with him.
'Red' had started moving again. His lithe body moved with an ancient rhythm that made William's heart beat like some sort of primal drum. The redhead moved back and forth, tantalizing and tempting, and he was mesmerizing as a hypnotist's watch. William felt his hands rising forward to take hold of charming body, but he stopped the dancing instead as he looked up to catch 'Red's' eyes. "What the hell is your problem?!" The redhead snapped at him.
"I am sorry, but I cannot do this. A man should not have to pay you to spend time with him." He gently pushed the smaller man off his lap. Removing his wallet from his pocket, he pulled out some notes and tossed them onto the low table that held glasses and some bottles of booze. "For any trouble I may have caused you tonight." With that, he went straight home and took a cold shower.