1

He walked into the place, wondering how exactly his friends and co-workers managed to drag him there. He was more than able of finding himself a decent laid without having to pay for it. And getting a few lap dances, as sensual as those might be, was most certainly not his idea of how to spend an evening -or any other moment of the day, for that matter- with a lady. But as he was forced down into a chair around one of the small, dark tables, and his blue eyes landed on the stage, where a beautiful, red haired woman was showing her charms to the audience while climbing up that pole, supporting herself with nothing but her legs, he figured a little innocent show couldn't hurt.

A waitress, wearing the most teasing, red little bustier set with matching stockings came to the table, offering them a champagne glass, along with a black little book for each of them.

"Here are our specials," she said, smiling sensually. "If you'd like to have one, let me know," she said. And with that, she turned away, swinging her hips in the most teasing way.

He took the little book, not really knowing what the 'specials' were, and opened it up. The first thing he saw was a picture of a beautiful woman wearing nothing but a sexy little black thong, covering her generous breasts with a feathered red scarf, and smiling sensually up to the camera. The name Candy was on top of the page -obviously a stage name- and below, a small recount of Candy's 'specialties'.

He rolled his eyes. He was willing to enjoy the view around, but he was not about to have sex with a professional. Not that he didn't find them attractive; it was obvious to him this place was packed with the most beautiful, high class, well gifted women in the business. But he had never paid for sex before, and he was not about to start now.

Apparently, one of the guys around the table decided he had no problem on paying a little extra, picking up one of the ladies from the little black book, and making some sex joke about it. He nodded his head, not really paying that much attention as he took a sip from his champagne, letting his midnight blue eyes travel around the dark, spacious room.

And then he saw her.

Walking out of what it seemed to be a small room on the back, probably where the girls from the little black book did their job. Wearing a black, completely laced, cut-out halter teddy, tied at the back of her neck and ending in a sexy little cheeky, and black, platformed, five inches heeled sandals with laced up ankle cuffs. Her light pink, shoulder length straight hair gave her a delicate air as she walked, tall and slender, swinging her hips sensually.

He shook his head. It couldn't be her. Why would she be working on a place like this? Her, of all people!

And looking that sensual and just...

He shook his head again, taking the little black book in his hands and opening it up again. He flipped the pages, looking through the faces there, searching for that one face he hadn't seen in over four years. Not really sure if he wanted to see that face there, but giving in to his curiosity.

And there she was.

Angel, was her name.

Standing tall and sensual, hands up grabbing the pole behind her, arching her back and slightly tilting her round, perfect hips to a side in a teasingly shy way. An open babydoll, with thin, black straps, and a laced, black and white demi cup bra seductively hugging her round, full breasts as the thin laced babydoll hung opened from her fabulous curves, exposing her flat, toned stomach, and a black and white matching thong. Black, high heeled pumps on her feet, and her endless legs, shoulder length opened, showing off her well toned muscles; not too much, but enough to know with just one look she was in perfect shape. Small, white, feathered wings with faded black ends were attached to her back, contrasting with her sensual outfit and adding a teasing, almost forbidden taste to her name. Her light pink hair, slightly waving, framing her beautiful features, and a soft, teasing, sided smile playing on her luscious red lips.

He knew that smile. Teasing, cocky, self secured. Only, he was used to seeing more arrogance to it. And although the hair was definitely different, he knew those green eyes.

He had no doubt as to who that girl was. And as once again his curiosity, and maybe the chance to get a nice, surprised, and most certainly shocked face out of her, got the better of him, he called out the sexy waitress, pointing at Angel's photograph.

"Good choice," the lady said, smiling at him. "Angel is a very nice girl."

I bet, he thought, amused.

"Is this your first time with her?" the waitress asked, and he nodded his head, finding the entire experience amusing, and yet alluring.

She gestured for him to follow her, and he did, letting her guide him into the same back room he's seen 'Angel' walking out of.

The room was small, and private. Just a small rectangular scenario, almost like a runway that ended right next to the black leather couch, with a pole on which he could only guess 'Angel' would most certainly show her gifts. A small circular table was right beside the couch; an ashtray and a few napkins neatly folded, resting on it. A disco ball was hanging from the ceiling, giving little sparks to the deep blue walls; silver beaded curtains hanging from the walls were the final touch to the small room, giving it a fantasy like, almost naïve, and yet sensual air.

He took a seat on the couch when the waitress pointed it out, and looked up at her, resting his elbows on the resting back.

"Angel will be right up," the lady said. "She'll explain everything to you, and if you agree to the rules and price, then we'll take care of the payment so you can enjoy yourself."

"Of course," he said, nodding his agreement, as he took another sip from the champagne glass he brought with him.

The waitress disappeared behind the thick, black curtains that served as a door, and he willed himself to wait. A smug, satisfied smile playing on his lips now that he knew he could get that surprised, shocked moment out of her, and don't spend a dime. For the first time since he got to this club, he was actually glad his friends had dragged him here.

He chuckled, shaking his head and taking another sip, when the curtains opened up again, and in she walked.

To his disappointment, her only reaction was one perfect eyebrow going up in a questioning manner, hands on her hips, as if waiting for some kind of explanation as to why he was sitting there.

To his utter surprise, as his blue eyes travel up and down that long, slender, curvaceous body of hers, covered by nothing but that sexy little cut-out halter teddy, he found her... breathtakingly beautiful, and incredibly sensual...

"Well, well, well," she said, in that husky voice of hers he hadn't heard in years. "Look what fell from the sky," she joked.

"I could say the same, Angel," he retorted, arching an eyebrow at her. "Or should I call you Haruka?"

She smiled at that. Green eyes, perfectly framed by black eyeshadow and eyeliner, and incredibly long eyelashes, narrowing at him just so. That sided, cocky, arrogant smile of hers playing on her opaque, deep red lips. And it annoyed him to no ends.

"Did your ass hurt when you landed?" she asked. "If not, I'd be more than glad to help you out with that."

"Oh, I'm sure you would," he said, casually and easily resting against the back of the couch, and looking up at her. "So pray tell me, what are your oh so great specialties, Angel."

Again, she arched an eyebrow at him. "Is the almighty Seiya Kou actually going to pay to see me?" she asked, raising a hand up to her chest in mockery. "My, my! This must be my lucky night!" she stated. The ironic, sarcastic tone in her voice not going unnoticed by the black haired man.

"I see sarcasm is still your greatest one," he simply said.

"Only for you," she said, battling her long eyelashes, and he vaguely wondered if she was using fake ones.

The curtain opened up again, and in walked an incredibly tall, muscular, shaved head black guy, wearing black jeans and an equally black shirt. He simply stood there, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and Seiya didn't have to ask to guess he was a security guard, probably there to make sure he didn't play it smart before paying for the service.

The pink haired woman made her way to the small runway, sitting on its edge and crossing her legs in the most sensual way. Putting both her hands at each side of her hips, palms against the cool, black surface of the runway, purposely bringing her round breasts together and successfully making his midnight blues go there.

"I don't do lap dances, I don't flash myself, and I don't do blowjobs," she started, tilting her head to a side in a teasing manner. "So if you're looking for that, I would highly recommend you to try Cherish. I hear she's good at that."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the tall black guy arching an eyebrow, half amused and half surprised at Angel's obviously unusual rude behaviour, almost bordering on hostility, towards a costumer. But the guard refrained himself from making any comment, simply standing there.

"And here I thought I was going to get out of here in deep need of intensive therapy," he said, casually.

Green eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "Who says you won't?" she asked, again, arching an eyebrow. "But, hey, it's your money. If you want to pay three hundred dollars just to see me dance, please, be my guest."

He arched both eyebrows at that. "Three hundred dollars, uh?"

"Per hour," she added, smiling sweetly and battling her eyelashes.

He smiled back at her. She obviously thought he wasn't going to accept. And he seriously thought he shouldn't. But he had to admit, he was curious as to what she would do if he accepted. And having her sitting there, looking so goddamn sensual, irradiating femininity and pure, raw sex appeal... it was a completely new, different side of her he's never seen before. One he never thought she'd had.

One he was extremely curious to see.

He was only made of flesh, after all...

Fishing for his wallet on his back pocket, he took it out, giving the requested amount, and smiling arrogantly at her.

She smiled back, not taking the money, and tilting her head to a side. Obviously amused over the entire ordeal.

The black guy stepped up, taking the money himself, and looking down at the black haired man in a warning manner. "If you touch her, you're out," he started to say. "If you try to kiss her, you're out. If you try to take her clothes off..."

"I kick your ass," 'Angel' interrupted him, still smiling; her green eyes looking straight into Seiya's blue ones as she battled her eyelashes.

The guard shook his head, as amused as she was, and looked back at the costumer, who didn't even bother to look up at him.

"You heard the lady," he said. "So don't make me come up here."

"Sure," Seiya replied, easily. "Oh, but first, can I have a champagne bottle?" he asked, smiling seductively at the sensual woman in front of him. "This calls for a celebration, don't you think?"

Her smile widened, just a little, as the teasing gleam in her green eyes shone brightly.

"It's ok, Big Joe," she said to the guard, not tearing her eyes off those blue ones for an instant. "He won't try anything. He's not as stupid as he looks," she added, tilting her head to a side. Her pink hair brushing against her shoulder at the movement, as she opened up her legs, resting her feet over the couch, at each side of him. "You'll be a good boy, won't you?"

"Of course," he answered, as it took all of his will power to keep her gaze, instead of letting his eyes travel down her body.

"Alright," the guard said, nodding his head. "I'll be right back, then."

Big Joe, as she had called him, left the room then, leaving the two of them still staring into each other's eyes, daring one another. She was daring him -tempting him, even- to look down, to let his eyes travel up and down her long, slender, obviously well shaped body. He was daring her to look aside, to break eye contact and move away.

But he didn't break eye contact, and neither did she.

Finally, he chuckled, shaking his head lightly, but never looking away. "Does Michiru know you're here?" he asked, almost accusingly; but his tone was too playful, too teasing to truly be one.

"Yes," she simply answered him, now slightly moving her legs from side to side, tantalizing him. Her feet brushing against his outer thighs.

He arched an eyebrow at her answer. "Really?" he asked, now really curious. "I wonder what she has to say about this."

"Why would she have something to say about this?" she asked, innocently.

That one really blew him off, and he blinked a few times. And then he frowned when she openly laughed at him. And although he certainly didn't appreciated being laughed at, the sound of her laugh, deep, rich and husky, came to him as yet another new side of her.

He couldn't remember a time when he had heard her laugh like that before.

"My God!" she exclaimed, calming herself down a little. "You really are from another planet!"

He frowned at her, not answering, and she tilted her head to a side again, amused. Resting her elbows over her knees, she looked into his midnight blue eyes. That shimmering, teasing light dancing in those green orbs of hers.

"I can do whatever I want with my life," she simply stated. "And last time she called, she said she was having a nice time with some french art student and a brazilian guy she met on her pack travels around Europe," she said, now frowning lightly, and taping one long, slender finger against her chin. "What were her words...?" she trailed off, before she smiled again. "Oh, right! An educational, interesting exchange with other cultures."

That bit of information surprised him to no ends.

First, the golden, strong couple had obviously broken up. Second, and according to her words, there were no hard feelings about it, but rather a friendly relationship between the two. And last, but definitely not least -and maybe even more surprising-, Michiru was backpack travelling around Europe. The refined, elegant, five stared hotel girl, backpack travelling?

He surely missed out a lot during the past four years...

Before he could say or ask anything else, Big Joe came back, carrying the requested champagne bottle on an ice tray, and two glasses to go along with that. Not saying a word, he opened the bottle, pouring the bubbly beverage into the glasses, as the pink haired woman smiled at him, watching his every move and completely ignoring the black haired man sitting right in front of her, in between her spread legs.

"Here you go, Angel," he said, as he handed her a glass, smiling at her in an almost fatherly manner.

"Thank you, Joe," she said, returning the smile.

He turned to Seiya then, handing him his glass of champagne, and glaring down at him in an unfriendly manner.

"You better not go 'searching for your love' in here, boy," he warned, narrowing his deep black eyes, causing one pink haired woman to laughed, loud and huskily, at the now blinking black haired man.

"With her?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"Oh my, you're hurting my feelings!" she exclaimed, chuckling. And when he looked back at her, she pouted, making her lower lip tremble and dragging her index finger from her eye and down her cheek. "Tear," she murmured, mockingly.

She shook her head, straightening up, and looking at Big Joe again. "Everything's fine," she said, reassuringly. "I'll handle it from here."

"If you say so..." he said, glaring at the black haired man one last time, before stepping out of the room.

Green eyes met blue ones again, and she raised her glass, smiling at him. "Cheers," she simply said, before taking a sip, and then handing it to him.

He took it, mindlessly putting it over the table; his blue eyes never leaving her figure, as she drew her legs together and up the runway, slowly turning to a side and standing up. In a deliberately sensual way, as a soft, slow music started filling the room.

And she moved. Slowly, sensually. Her hips following the music, leisurely swinging from side to side. Her hands gently caressing her stomach, her hips, her outer thighs, the side of her breasts, her neck. Her green eyes never leaving his face, as his blue ones travel up and down her twisting, swinging body.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked, suddenly wanting to break the silence.

She turned her back to him, hands on the pole behind her back and over her head, and slowly bent down, as the pole became her secret, imaginary lover, and she slowly brushed herself against it.

"I'm dancing," she answered him, slightly turning her face to look at him.

"I can see that," he said, somewhere in the back of his mind registering the fact that he should have sounded annoyed at her answer, but instead, his voice came out hoarse and low.

But he couldn't help it. There she was, dancing sensually, and dancing for him. Never, not even in his wildest, craziest dream, had he imagined such thing could ever happen. And yet, here he was, watching her, and actually enjoying her every move.

And it wasn't even the typical pole dance either. She was not spreading up her legs, or jumping up and curling herself around the steel and shaking her head wildly. Oh no, of course she would not do that. Trust her to do it differently. Trust her to do things her way.

He didn't know how much time passed in silence as he contemplated her swinging figure. And she kept on moving, dancing slowly, teasingly but gently letting her hands travel up and down her fabulous body, letting small, soft moans reach his ears every time she did so. She moved, as if she knew exactly how to do it to trigger all kinds of thoughts inside his head, without being too blunt about it. She was turning him on, badly, with nothing but her lingering movements and her teasing smiles, and she knew it.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out, breaking the silence once more.

"Oh?" she simple said, turning her back to him again, and lifting her pink hair with one hand; the other traveling up her side, cupping her breast.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, taking another sip from his glass and resting his right ankle over his left leg, trying to appear unaffected by her actions.

She turned back around to face him fully, standing in the middle of the runway. Her hands going up to lift her hair, and then slowly coming down her neck, to her collarbone, and then, finally, to her full breasts. She squeezed them lightly; the soft, almost soundless moan escaping her red lips easily reaching his ears, making him shift slightly on his seat.

A sided smile came to her lips then. "Do you really wanna know?" she asked, in a deliberately low, husky voice.

He gulped, nodding his head, and her smiled widened a little.

"Power," she simply answered, now walking back to the pole, swinging her hips seductively in her way, and grabbing the steal behind her with one hand, the other playing with her hair again, as she bent down, legs slightly open.

"Power?" he asked, knowing exactly what she meant by that, but still wanting to hear her saying it.

"Yes, power," she said. "Clients come here for a fantasy, and I give that to them, by dancing."

"A fantasy, uh?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head and getting down on her knees. "See, I-I'm just a girl..." she said, stuttering and sounding all shy. "My boyfriend just broke up with me... he-he said... he said I'm not pretty enough..." she said, sounding heartbroken, and battling her eyelashes, as if trying to fight down her tears; one hand twisting one pink lock around her fingers, and the other encircling around her torso, bringing her breasts together in a sensual, yet innocent manner. As if she didn't realize what she was doing. "Do you... do you think I'm... I'm not... pretty, Senator?" she asked, innocently.

He chuckled at that, nodding his head, amused. "A senator..." he mumbled. "I'm impressed."

"Oh, but I always thought football players are so strong," she said, sounding girly and sensual, and yet innocent in her statement, and he vaguely wondered how she managed to do that. "The way you run so fast, and kick the ball so... hard," she finished, that last word sounding almost like a repressed moan.

"And the big fishes actually come here and pay you, just to see you dance?" he asked, now bending forward, and resting his elbows on his knees. "Fully clothed?"

She stood up once again, hands on her hips and arching an eyebrow at him. "If you want something else, then I can always send you off to one of the other girls. No hard feelings," she said.

"Oh, but I paid for you, Miss Tenoh," he argued.

"Who's that?" she asked, innocently. "My name is Angel, remember?"

"You really think no one has ever recognized you?"

"If they did, they've never said anything," she pointed out. "What could they do about it, anyway? Go to the press?" she questioned, mockingly. "I'm sure they'd have a really hard time explaining to the wife and family what exactly were they doing here, paying me to dance for them, and then maybe even paying a visit to some other girl to get a good laid."

Two black eyebrows went up at that. "So here's some of that too?" he asked, now confirming his previous suspicious about the place and the wide variety of services it offered to its clients.

"Not with me," she remembered him. "But like I said, feel free to go to the other girls. Word has it Ginger is very flexible."

"Like I said, I paid for you," he argued back.

She smiled to him at that. "That, you did," she agreed, now gently brushing her breast with her free hand, as she slowly made her way around the pole, brushing herself against it. "But I make my own rules here, and all you can do is sit there and watch."

"And here I thought racing was more your thing," he pointed out, smiling at her.

She arched an eyebrow at that. "Racing is my passion," she corrected him. "My career. This is... a hobby. A twisted, dark, innocent little hobby," she said tilting her head, amused. "Everyone has a dark, secrete side. Some like to have sex with strangers, others pay regular visits to sex shops, buying handcuffs, leather lingerie, blindfolds. Maybe even a dildo or two to have a little extra... I dance," she said, as once again her hands went up to her breasts. "And while you watch, I know exactly what you're thinking."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, laying back against the couch.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head. "You want me, but you can't touch me. You want a taste..." she trailed off, as both her hands went down to trace down her hips, going to her inner thighs as she closed her legs, slightly biting on her lower lip, seductively, "but you can't have me," she finished, smiling now.

He smiled nonchalantly at that. "And what exactly gives you the idea that I want you?"

She chuckled then, sliding down the pole behind her. "Right, why would you, want me?" she asked back, now getting in all fours, and slowly crawling her way down the runway, up to him. "It's completely ridiculous."

"Exactly," he agreed, nodding his head.

She looked straight at him, leisurely making her way towards him. A mischievous, playful smile coming to her lips as she finally reached him, and she licked her lips, slowly moving forward; their faces now inches apart as her green eyes flickered down for a moment.

"But you see, your friend down there says you do," she simply pointed out, her smile widening as she noticed the red coming to his cheeks. "Time's up, Space Boy," she murmured in his ear.

Her warm breath caressing his neck; her sent, a mix of vanilla and gardenia, suddenly invading his nostrils. He blinked a few times, forcing his runaway thoughts to come back to reality as the tall woman straighten up, stepping off the runway and playfully rearranging the back of her teddy, shaking her ass just a little and making her breasts jump up in the process.

She was doing it on purpose, and he knew it. Damn that woman...

"I had fun!" she said, sounding as if they just got off some game on a fair, at the same time as Big Joe walked back into the room, readopting the same cross armed pose and glaring at him.

He glared back at the guard, frowning, before looking up at 'Angel'. "Is he always like that?" he asked, annoyed at not having the privacy to at least try to calm himself down.

"Only with the new ones," she said, shaking her shoulder, but still smiling down at him. "Anyway, thanks for coming by," she said, winking at him and turning around, making her way out of the room. Hips swinging all the way. But before she fully stepped out, she turned around to face him once more. "Oh, and Seiya?" she called out to him; that seductive, teasing smile returning to her lips. "I'm on every Thursday."

She winked at him one last time, almost invitingly, before fully stepping out of the room. Big Joe right behind her.

And he just sat there, blinking after the empty space she left. Surprised. Absent. He felt as if he just woke up from a very strange, bizarre dream.

He blinked again, looking down on himself, and groaned.

A very sensual, wet dream, at that...