A/N: Hey guys! Once again, comments and constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
Disclaimer: unfortunately Dissidia does not belong to me or else I would have owned Kain and Firion already. It belongs to Square Enix.
Let it be known to the world that Squall Leonhart was not a ninny. Nor was he a sour puss but that wasn't the point. He still couldn't believe he was doing this. It was absurd. It was preposterous it was just not him. How could Bartz and Zidane talk him into doing this frivolous act in the first place? Oh wait, it was a dare they made yesterday.
~ooo~
"—and so I brought her home and we ended up making out at her backdoor" Zidane finishes simply. He leans backward on the chair and closes his eyes. Bartz eyes him sceptically "You didn't get past second base?" he asks him bluntly. Zidane merely raises an eyebrow and spares a glance at his friend, "I'm not that shameless besides, I want to take it slow with Garnet" he replies. The brunet smirks and punches his friend playfully on the shoulder "You're whipped aren't you, you womanizer!" A slight tint of pink makes itself known on the tips of Zidane's ears the subject in question is struggling to keep his cool façade.
"I-I'm not that whipped-" the blonde began "She'd kill you if you said that" Bartz retorts, smirk still in place. Zidane sighs and raises his arms in defeat "Fine, I am, where are the shackles and the collar?" he conceded with mock exasperation.
Meanwhile a certain other brunet was busily reading and sorting out documents on the table. He read and stamped notices and suggestions quietly and quickly. However, the loud voices of his friends were hard to ignore. They were turning his office into some tea house. Needless to say it irked him terribly.
"So Bartz how's your love life?" Zidane asks abruptly to divert the conversation elsewhere. Bartz brightens and excitedly decided to share his story. "Boko just went to the vet and got his shots taken. We're planning to go on a vacation to Crescent Lake once golden week hits he's really excited about it—"
"I didn't ask about your pet chocobo, idiot. I meant a real, live, breathing girl." Zidane cuts and understanding seemed to dawn on Bartz' face. Squall simply rolled his eyes. Idiots. "How about that girl Lenna? No wait I think it was Faris or was it Krile?" He pauses abruptly for dramatic tension and sees the teen shift uncomfortably but presses on "But seriously, I think it was Faris she's rather pretty don't you think?"
The mimic stiffens and the blonde's grin deepens. Jackpot.
"How much do you know?" he asks seriously, a grave expression suddenly graces his usually carefree face.
"Lots. I can smell a girl from a mile away" Zidane says matter-of-factly. "How'd you find out about his gender?" he asks his normally oblivious friend adding a certain stress to the last word. The sentence apparently was enough to turn the mimic beet red. Squall decided to listen intently while working.
"I accidentally walked in on her in the shower rooms" he began, "She freaked out and punched me in the gut. I swore I wouldn't tell a soul and we ended up having lunch together that day. She still eyes me evilly when she knows I'm looking at her", Bartz finishes, shuddering slightly. Zidane being the amazing friend that he is did the only humane thing to do in that situation.
He howled in laughter.
"Hey! It's not funny!" Bartz says rather miffed. He decides to drink his tea and Squall tries to keep his stoic face intact.
Zidane eyes his friend in between bursts of laughter. That was just typical of Faris punching Bartz like that! Then again she was a tall, smart, strong and pretty boy—girl—and was close with the guys at their school. She was practically a school idol. He'd often see her looking at Bartz from the corner of her eye and pretended to ignore his existence. The latter didn't know about this exchange of body language but his trained eye did and his instincts were telling him there was much unresolved tension between them he had to break.
"Why don't you ask her out?" Zidane begins after his fit subsided. Unfortunately Bartz ended up sputtering and looked incredulous. "What? I'm not gay!"
"Faris is a girl" Zidane quips. "Still! That isn't possible! It's not well- The entire student body doesn't know. They'd think we were, well…" The brunet wracked his brain for a follow up but ended up short.
"Asking her out is easy. First you gotta get her alone and then you just—"
"You know, the student council office is not a dating service location" Squall intercepts choosing this time to interfere. He had enough of this useless banter, or so he says.
"Aww lighten up Squall! You know how much you'd feel lonely if we weren't here" Zidane quips. Squall simply rolls his eyes and says "I would have finished more work today if you weren't here bothering me with your lovesick problems".
"I am not lovesick. Besides, you finish everything in one sitting anyway at least were here to lighten the mood!" Bartz adds. "In any case, if you want to finish your conversation then get out" and Squall decides to continue reading through the documents, seemingly oblivious of the pair.
"Jeez you're such a sour puss." Zidane said. "Killjoy" Bartz adds.
"You're just like that because you don't have a single girl in your life. Heck, I bet you couldn't even get laid if you tried!" the blonde adds jokingly. The pair ended up laughing at the notion of a miffed and date-less Squall.
"Are you implying that I can't get a girlfriend much less get laid?" Squall asks quietly. "I think we just said that" Bartz replies. "Hey, I heard people get erectile dysfunctions if they never have any experience." The mimic adds. "Looks like you're going to be an old virgin Squall" Zidane says howling in laughter.
This was too much. They could banter and joke around in the office as much as they liked but no one insulted his manhood like that. No one.
He'd show them.
"I can get laid whenever I want to." He says angrily his calm façade breaking.
"Really? Prove it then" Zidane challenged. "I dare you to prove me wrong but if you lose you're going to have to run around campus naked at first period." Bartz then leans in to whisper something into his ear, prompting an evil smirk. "With cat ears doing a Tarzan Yell"
Squall quickly calculated the number of school rules he would be violating and shuddered. His spotless reputation was going to be ruined if he lost this bet. Not one to back down Squall hastily agreed, "Fine! I accept your challenge! But if I win you have to go walk around school on your brother's thong for a day in front of Professor Garland." He pauses, "and you have to say a really lame pickup line"
Zidane merely shrugged and called on his dare. "Deal"
Squall was going to get himself laid if it was the last thing he'll do. Besides how hard would it be right?
~ooo~
Looking back he had absolutely no idea what convinced him to accept such a horrendous proposition. He clearly got the short end of the stick. Zidane was a walking bottle of hormones. He could pull that off without even trying! This was what he got for losing his cool. He straightened his tie.
He spares a glance at a dingy shop window eyeing his clothes. He had a black jacket, a tucked in white polo, a black tie, his shoes were polished and his hair was neatly combed to the side. 'Perfect' he thinks to himself. No! He looked like an uptight ass who hadn't fucked a single person in his life. He looked like a virgin and that was the last thing he wanted to look like. He pulls his shirt out and loosens his tie. He decides to forgo his combed hair and messes it up to look like a bedhead. He unbuttons a few buttons on his shirt and eyes himself again.
There he looked more experienced or in his case, a naughty schoolboy.
He ventures into the dingy street of carnal filled desires at arm length. He swore he could smell the scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke and sex pervading his senses. He was at a red light district he reminded himself and this was perfectly normal. Flashy neon signs attacked his eyes mercilessly as not so far-off musical numbers mashed itself together into an incoherent mesh of words and clashing rhythm.
He decides to pick the flashiest brothel he could find and his eyes land on a certain establishment's neon sign that read "7th Heaven". It was a three story building that reminded him of a cabaret club. It had red paint and gold trimmings at the ends of the only windows in the establishment. Perfect.
He walks toward it briskly, all too aware of the other prostitutes' lustful gazes at him. Upon arriving at the door he stops to catch his breath. This was much more difficult than he'd imagined it to be. He swallows the lump in his throat and wonders if he could still back down from this. Then again his manly pride was at stake.
'Squall just suck it up.' He thinks furiously and he ventures into the gateway of the most hedonistic pleasures known to man.
A strip club.
~ooo~
The place itself was rather tidy. He had imagined it to be much worse something like a dingy, dirty apartment with putrid stench coming from somewhere but it was decent. Heck, it was more than decent. If Squall didn't know any better he'd think he just entered a five-star hotel.
He treads carefully, trying to make himself lose that prim posture and settle into an uneven gait. He just hoped that his so-called pirate swagger was working. Else, he'd be looking like a total loser. The walls were lined with vinyl records and old frame photographs. The den's walls were a rather brightly colored red and upon looking up, the ceiling was made of a large polished mirror. If it wasn't obvious enough, Squall suspected that the mirror held a much ulterior purpose than for the vanity of men. The room smelled of something he could akin to eucalyptus and a sweet perfume he couldn't quite put his finger on. Strip club indeed. Scratch that, High End Strip Club indeed.
Suddenly he hears a couple of piano keys playing and a wide applause that starts. A slow melody forms accompanied by a deep and sensual voice singing a song he feels oddly too familiar. 'Focus, Squall. You're here to get laid, not to listen to a man singing while those prostitutes are taking off their clothes.' He thinks mentally.
Soon enough he musters enough courage to go to the counter. A tall and slim woman with ebony black hair was busily wiping the desk with a white dishcloth. She wore a white button up shirt that was tucked in a rather skimpy skirt. Her attire hugged and emphasized her figure in all the right places not to mention the size of her chest. Behind her was a whole stack of alcohol, glasses and a couple of other men who were just taking their drinks and going to the main chamber. He stops tentatively and takes a deep breath. This was it.
The woman looked up from her place, her eyes filled with wonder. Squall was surprised at how beautiful she was and was disheartened by the fact that she was working in this joint. The world truly was turning into a place filled of filth and vile corruption. Her eyebrows rise as she gives him a once over and smiles.
It was settled, Zidane would kill to have a date this pretty. He mentally noted to gloat about his chance encounter with her after his tryst.
"I know it's not my place to ask" The woman began, "But what's a cutie like you doin' in a joint like this?" She asks resting her long slender fingers on her hips. Squall gulped and tried to remain calm enough to deliver his excuse, "Isn't it obivous? To get laid" Oh, wait, that didn't come out right. The woman raised an elegant eyebrow in surprise.
"No! I meant a stripper, isn't this a strip club?" he finishes lamely. Well there goes the whole naughty school boy thing. He was busted. He coughs and prays that his blush hadn't crept up to his face right now.
"Sorry darling, I shouldn't have asked that." She smiles apologetically. "My name is Tifa by the way, Tifa Lockheart. I'm the bartender and well—cashier—if you would say" Tifa, or so she claimed her name was, bent under the counter and withdrew a list. "Since you're a first time customer here I'd like you to pick one of them on this list, don't worry you have a discount" she says with wink before wiping the counter yet again.
Squall only hoped he wasn't turning any redder than he think he was. Why would he have to have to choose a stripper? It's just not logically possible. He was rammed out of his thoughts by a short statement "Do you have anyone in mind?"
He decides to scan the names on the list. Lulu Tickleheaven, Crystal SpankDixon, The Under taker, Down Under Trey, Sleezy Cums, Spank Skiz, Sparkle Swallows. Who in Hyne's name would pick names like that?
To hell with it. He raised his hand and pointed a random name on the list he was given. He just hoped it would cause him no further embarrassment. The bartender glanced at the name and couldn't repress a smile. "I'm not sure if you're just lucky or if this was meant to be." The ebony haired girl states mysteriously, giving him a once over yet again. "So what's your theme?"
Squall raises his eyebrows in alarm. Theme? Since when did strip clubs allow their customers a theme? Suffice to say the teen was flabbergasted.
"Excuse me?" he says, the alarm well hidden in his intonation.
"7th Heaven allows our customers to choose a theme like…" The bartender pauses for a bit, her pretty little face in deep concentration "good cop bad cop, Trip to the Caribbean, Bondage, I do recommend the Biker gang theme. If you know what I mean" Tifa says with a wink.
Squall felt flustered by the mere idea of a theme. He really got in way over his head with this dare. He made a mental note to himself never to allow his temper to get the better of him ever again.
"I don't know, Maria and Draco?" recalling the opera he and his father went to just a few days ago. It was a pretty good show admittedly not that he'd give the man the pleasure of knowing that. They were just worlds apart.
"Alrighty then, if you could just wait a few moments" Tifa says nonchalantly as she types in his order in the computer. "Will you be taking a VIP Room with Special Services?"
Squall merely nods his head, not exactly listening to what the bartender said.
Honestly he just wanted to get this over with. He tries not to fidget and manages to stay detached, somewhat. It wasn't that he was afraid of strip clubs it was just the fact that he was still wearing his school uniform. He hadn't thought this through too much and he was berating himself for that.
Oh and the added fact that his father was too eager and lenient to permit him with the use of his platinum credit card after he found out he was going to a strip club. Well technically he said it was an old upperclassman's bachelor's party and they were sharing the payment. Nevertheless he was still a father and shouldn't randomly let his son go out to a red light district to have fun.
He's snapped out of his reverie by a piece of paper and a card indicating his room number.
"You're room number is on the 28th floor. Just take the elevator you see on your right and you'll see it just as you get arrive. Will you be paying us by cash or credit card?" She asks in a business-like tone.
Thankfully Squall hadn't made the slip up of telling her his real name and gives her his father's credit card. Laguna Loire. He just hoped his father's social status wasn't too known in these parts.
"Laguna Loire? Why does that name sound so familiar" Tifa mumbles to herself as she swipes the card in the machine. Squall could just smack himself in the head mentally. Of course it would sound familiar he was the president of a country for god sakes. Thankfully they didn't know his affiliation to him. At least not yet.
"Thanks for your patron" She says humbly and returns his credit card back. Squall accepts it rather hastily and gives her a stiff nod before walking towards the elevator. He could have sworn he heard her say something.
"Have fun!" Tifa says rather loudly before the doors closed.
He just hoped this wasn't going to end in a disaster.
~ooo~
The elevator ride was slow and much too tedious for his taste. He could feel his anxiety wafting over him like smoke and he had to repress the urge to straighten his tie. It was going to happen. Him, Squall Leonhart was going to get laid.
"Twenty-Eighth Floor" a female voice announced and the golden doors opened with a small ting.
He ventures out into the hallway only to find a rather large door in front of him.
It was made of Maplewood and had intricate carvings of a tree of life and a dragon that protected it. The door's wooden handles were interlaced with what he could consider gold and rubies. There were two dimly lit lanterns besides it.
Definitely not a cheap Strip Club.
He carefully twists the doorknob open and enters the room. He is met by a giant king-sized bed with white drapery falling in cascades from the four bedposts. There was a large window with a balcony overlooking the sea, the red light district was near the beach at the far end of the city, and vines crept over the banister. He sees a rather large pole and a in the middle of the room. A pink rather see-through divider was located near the bathroom whose walls were apparently made of glass.
Squall mentally notes that he does not want to venture into that trap no matter how curious he was.
So he does the next best thing.
He lies down and waits patiently on the bed for the inevitable. He feels the soft comfort of the pillows lulling him to sleep and he almost does. Almost.
He hears a slightly upbeat tune playing and looks in the direction of the door. 'Draco and Maria Act 1 Part 2' Squall noted mentally before he sees a beautiful blonde haired woman enter.
She was of fair skin, high cheekbones, soft pink lips and had the most piercing blue eyes he had ever seen. Her blonde hair was tied rather loosely in a braid that fell upon her shoulders and wore very little make up save for a red rouge. She wore a long fluffy button up overcoat that hugged her curves well. It was a rather conservative attire compared to what others in this profession seemed to wear.
Well she was going to take it all off anyway.
As if on cue the music took a slightly more upbeat tone as the door to the chamber walked with slow and sensuous steps, her hips swaying gently along with her attire.
For some inane reason Squall couldn't direct his gaze elsewhere. He was rooted to the bed.
She grabs a chair and stands in front of it. Smiling playfully as she carefully unbuttons one button at a time. The small thwack could be heard from each one she unbuttoned.
When she finishes she turns around and rolls her shoulders gently and the fur coat slides down until they drop to the ground in an untidy heap. She's wearing a lacy white dress made of what he could assume as silk while managing to hide if she had much chest at all.
She grins lasciviously over her shoulder as she extends a long slender arm in the air and glides her body weight to the right staying in tune with the music's beat in what he could consider the prelude to an erotic dance. She removes the lacy arm-length gloves she wore on her left first, then on her right, the latter with a variation consisting of biting the tip of the glove's middle with her teeth and pulling the damn thing off henceforth.
She grasps the chair's spine as the blonde reaches out to pull her jimmy choos' off giving Squall a great view of that tight ass behind her gown.
She sits down on the chair gracefully and crosses her legs provocatively. Squall's eyes follow the sudden movement and he sees her lift her dress' hem up, exposing the garter belt joining her stockings to her torsolette. She bites her lip and bats her lashes and Squall feels like he's being devoured by the sight of that beauty carefully unbuckling her garter.
So this was the reason why men indulged in this hedonistic pleasure. It was god-forbid satisfying.
She's finally unbuckled her garter and leans down unto her knee to as she starts to pull it off. The blonde stretches her leg as she tugs the stocking free. She smacks her lips and stares hard at her customer with his brows furrowed in concentration. Feeling his intense gaze she sits with her legs agape and twirls the white stocking above her head before she drops it and stands up.
~ooo~
The stripper was walking towards him Squall noted. The stripper was walking—O Hyne—he was way in over his head. He tries to stay in focus but his inexperience gives him away, this woman has probably been doing this for years.
The woman stops at the foot of his bed her lips slightly upturn into a small smile. Squall places his hands on her slim waist and she kneels down between his legs and leans. He could smell that sweet intoxicating perfume waft through his senses and she cups his face. They lean towards each other, exchanging a light, chaste kiss. They part after a few seconds and Squall swore he saw a knowing glint behind those blue irises.
The stripper removed one dainty hand from his face and led Squall's hand down her right leg up to the garter belt. The teen could feel his face heating up from embarrassment, the blonde's hand still wrapped around his when she flashed him a predatory smile before she leans down and kisses him again.
It started out slow and tentative, if pushed Squall would actually admit it was kind of nice, until the blonde tilted her head and deepened the kiss.
After that he'd say it was mind-blowing.
Not long after he could feel an unknown object prod at his lips, asking for entrance. The brunet happily obliged. Soon enough it was a battle of tongues which the stripper easily dominated both of them mapping out each other.
Squall eases his back onto the soft mattress and he feels the girl straddle him, her hands on his chest and they part for much needed air. She raises an elegant eyebrow as the teen unbuckles the garter belt with one hand and guides the fabric down her ankle.
The blonde removes the ribbon tying her rather untidy looking mane and sways her hair lightly letting the curls fall down her shoulders. She leans down to breathe down his ear sending a shiver through the brunet's body and he presses the woman's body closer to his. He reaches for the zipper on her back and she nibbles his ear.
Her breasts were—wait, why were they flat?—Squall's eyes scrunched in confusion. Did she really have small breasts because that would be such a shame for a body as beautiful as hers. No, that wasn't possible. Squall reasoned with himself. Unless….
In a swift movement Squall turned their bodies over the mattress leaving him to top the woman locking her wrists with one hand as he did the unthinkable.
He grabbed her genitals.
Squall's eyes widen in alarm, "that is not a vagina" he says incredulously.
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