Disclaimer: No, I still, in fact, do not own Yugioh. I beseech you not to pursue legal recourse.
Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting
Seto and the Delicorp reps brushed past the parking police and large man who worked the door (all of whom were currently receiving a handsome parking fee in exchange for their cooperation) and entered the club. The first was a small coat room, and a short girl who appeared to have gotten her haircut with a weed-whacker in the dark held up a hand to stop them from going through the next door.
"Check your coats, please."
Seto very nearly gave her his, "Do you have and idea who you're dealing with?" treatment, but thought better of it. It was clearly a security measure, and perhaps not worth making a huge deal over. He was supposedly here to enjoy himself, after all. He slipped out of his billowy white trench coat and exchanged it for a small, purple ticket. He almost immediately regretted it; without his coat, he felt he no longer looked as impressive and important as he liked to. People almost recognized his coat sooner than they did him. He consciously willed himself not to snatch the coat back from the girl. I am not my coat, he thought with a grimace, ashamed of himself for having such a childish reaction.
He turned to watch as the reps slid out of their suit blazers, their white shirts and ties not much less formal. With purple slips in hand, the five passed through the door and into the club itself. The coat girl watched them go, giggling to herself. The tall one was a lot skinnier than I thought he'd be under all those gravity-defying ripples. She giggled again as they left. He almost fits in now.
Once they were inside, Seto realized that the coat girl had been far from the oddest-looking person he was to encounter in this club. Aside from the overwhelmingly male population, everywhere he turned was something different: young people in chains and black leather, older people in suits like his companions. There were people who had brightly multicolored hair (not unlike Yuugi's, he chuckled to himself briefly) and people who would have looked normal if not for their extensive facial piercing and tattoo collections. He looked down at his own wardrobe. As it turned out, without the Kaiba Corp. jacket, he blended in rather well. He was still much taller than most, but his lithe frame and buckle-seasoned black outfit fit right in. A little bit of black eyeliner and the look would have been perfect. Seto smirked, pleasantly surprised. This wasn't a place where he'd have wanted to stand out anyway, and he mentally chided himself once more for being so self-conscious.
Feeling more at rest, he took a moment to observe the club itself. It was pretty big; it was also so crowded that one might not think so to look at it. There was a large stage centered at the back of the club with a big, arm-less chair in its center and two poles on either side of it, as well as four much smaller platform stages spread out across the floor. The smaller stages were in use, every table around them occupied by people who had a seemingly endless supply of ten and twenty dollar bills to shove into barely-there garments. The main stage was empty and partially lit, as if to promise the big show was yet to come.
Saki appeared next to him with his three fellows and gestured towards the main stage. As they crossed the floor, Saki caught the eye of a well-dressed man who was sitting at a table in the front row. The man smiled and hurried over to them.
"Mr. Saki, is it?" The well-dressed man smiled and looked over the three reps. "And where is Mr. Kaiba? Did he decide not to join you?" He snickered as if he'd made a terribly funny joke.
Saki beamed. "Oh, no, Mr. Kaiba is right here!" He turned to reveal Seto, who'd been standing behind him.
The man looked as though he'd swallowed his hat. "Forgive me," he recovered. "I didn't recognize you, sir. It's a pleasure to have you here." He extended a hand. "My name is Dino. I own this place."
Seto shook his hand warily. He couldn't have cared less if this shady character was the owner or the queen of France.
"Please, have a seat. I've reserved the best table we have for you gentlemen." Dino paused and looked Seto over slowly, a smile creeping across his face. Seto glared in response, but Dino didn't seem to notice. He turned to Saki. "I have just had a fabulous idea. Let's converse, shall we?" Saki and Dino disappeared into the crowd.
Seto took a seat. Dino hadn't been kidding; the view of the main stage was perfect, as was the view of the whole rest of the club. Seto smiled to himself and made a mental note to thank Saki later. A young waiter in a leather midriff shirt and hot pants approached them seconds later to take their drink order. The reps had neat bourbon, also ordering a martini for Saki. They looked expectantly at Seto, who hadn't been exactly planning to have anything. However, he also wasn't opposed to the idea.
"I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea," he said. He liked how deceptively harmless they were; they were made up of nearly pure alcohol without tasting like it. Of course, in Seto's own mind, no amount of alcohol could affect his behavior, let alone intoxicate him. There was no reason for him not to drink, really. The scantily clad waiter smiled, walked to the bar, and returned a few moments later, setting their beverages before them just as Saki returned. He smiled at his martini and took a long drink
"Where were you?" Kunihiku asked him. "Did that oily man want more money for the table or something?"
"Ah, no, nothing like that." He waved a dismissive hand. "He wanted to know if I wanted to arrange something special for our guest of honor, here." He grinned a good-natured grin at Seto, who eyed him suspiciously.
"Something special?"
"Yes! Anyway, it sounded like fun, so I told him to go ahead!" Saki beamed, proud of himself for doing something so wonderful.
Seto wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. In fact, he was almost certain he didn't. He sipped his drink, the blank stare he wore hiding his low-level panic. Why had he thought this was a good idea, exactly? Unfortunately, before he could protest, the lights in the club shut off abruptly, and the main stage lights lit up one by one. He drank again, more deeply this time.
"Good evening, fellow creatures of the night!" Dino's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Thank you all for coming. Tonight, as you know, our star performer is with us, as I can only wish he was more often. What's more, he has a special dance set up for you tonight involving a very special guest! That's right, it's our world famous 'Mystery Dance!'"
The crowd hooted and whistled, and Seto wondered what a "Mystery Dance" was. In any case, he was getting increasingly nervous. He hoped that there was some other "very special guest" who would be "involved," but his instincts told him he knew better. He attempted to sip his Long Island, but got nothing but a few drops. He frowned at it; he hadn't realized he was drinking it so quickly.
"So let's get to it, shall we?" Dino shouted, earning the cheers of the audience. "Let's bring our guest up here."
A spotlight swiveled over to fix on Seto, whose vision was beginning to blur slightly from his too-quick ingestion of his drink. "I'm not sure about this," he said much too quietly to be heard over the crowd. Two brawny men wearing leather loincloths and what looked like tire chains came from offstage to collect him, and Seto could do little to combat them as they guided him to the large chair in the center of the stage.
"Now, for those of you who are first timers like our guest here," Dino boomed, "we call this a 'Mystery Dance' because, for him, whatever's going to happen is always a mystery!" At that, one of the brawny tire-chain men pulled a blindfold from nowhere and covered Seto's eyes, while the other pulled out a rope and tied his arms loosely behind his back.
"Don't worry," one of them said in Seto's ear. "Just relax. This will be fun, I promise." Seto had his doubts, but his mild case of the spins thickened his tongue and kept him from making any reply at the moment.
"Is he ready? Good! Then, without further ado, it is my great pleasure to present to you, the pearl of the Puppy's Paradise, the boy with all the right moves, your favorite and mine, Teacher's Pet!"
The crowd went wild. Seto stiffened, his world dark, unsure of what would happen next.
"Teacher's Pet," also known as Jounochi Katsuya, peeked around the corner of the wings, waving at his audience. They promptly went mad, screaming and hollering lewd comments, some even throwing money and roses up onto the stage. He grinned to himself. It was nice to be loved. He stepped out into full view, making a dainty little curtsy and throwing a few princess waves for the fun of it. He was certainly a sight to behold; he wore a naughtier version of an American Catholic school girl uniform, complete with extra-short, plaid, pleated skirt, and a white collared shirt, tied up to expose his midriff. He worked the crowd a few moments more, blowing kisses, turning around and bending to pick up one of his roses. He walked the edge of the stage, pausing to let his admirers stuff their cash into the waistband of his skirt, smelling his rose and looking pretty.
Once he felt he'd made a proper entrance, he walked up to the poor bastard in the chair. Katsuya almost felt sorry for him, so confused and blind in front of everyone. He studied his victim for a moment, passing the rose softly over his lips, parting them slightly. This one was pretty good-looking, as far as he could tell with the blindfold, anyway. He admired his strong jaw, his fine, high cheekbones. Katsuya was lucky; this was not always the case, and he had to work with all of them. He smelled alcohol on his breath and laughed out loud. He turned to the audience and cocked an eyebrow, wordlessly asking for their support.
"Give him your best, beautiful!" yelled someone near the stage.
Katsuya winked and looked up to the DJ's booth, nodding for him to start. A slow, grinding beat crept through the club's many speakers. It was Nine Inch Nails "Closer," a song he liked to use for this particular situation. His subject shifted in the chair, his eyebrows coming together under the thin black strip that half-covered his face. Katsuya walked behind the chair, running his hands down the subject's arms. He jumped at the contact, his body rigid with tension.
"You let me violate you," Trent sang, and Katsuya whispered along into the ear of his toy. And violate you I will, he thought. He'd gotten 500, in advance, for this one. He'd promised to make it special, since this guy clearly knew someone who thought he needed it. He played with him for a moment, running his hands through his hair, stroking the sensitive spots behind his ears. He bent slightly and ran his tongue up one lobe, enjoying the way he shivered.
Trent sang on, and Katsuya took a moment to molest the young man in the chair: leaning way over him to stroke his stomach and legs, marveling at his well-constructed body. It was rare not to get someone rather overweight and unattractive, and this man was neither, not by a long shot. This dance would be a pleasure to perform.
"Help me," Trent sang. Katsuya came around to stand in front of him, placed his hands on the back of the chair, and swiftly leapt into his lap, straddling him in a practiced movement. The toy jumped again, and Katsuya smiled. He had the most fun with the nervous ones. It made it that much better when they relaxed.
He ran his hands up the man's stomach, slowly, slowly, turning his head and grinning at the crowd. They called and whistled, both envious and appreciative of the situation this special guest was in. He retracted his hands from under the shirt and raised them to finger the collar, waiting for the cue in the song for his next move.
"...You get me closer to god."
In one quick movement, Katsuya ripped open the man's shirt, exposing his slim, toned chest.
"I wanna fuck you like an animal..." Trent declared just as the sound of ripping fabric tore across the stage. The subject jerked, restrained at the wrists, unable to stop the loss of his garment. The crowd screamed, and Katsuya began a slow grind to the beat of the music, seated in his subject's lap, slowly unbuttoning his own shirt. He cast it aside and wrapped his arms around his toy, pressing closely to him, skin pressed against skin. Sweat broke out across the toy's forehead, droplets disappearing into the blindfold. He felt a stirring underneath him, in the lap of the blind man. Katsuya smirked and ground harder, feeling victorious. He could turn on a total stranger who'd never seen his face. That had to be talent.
The song went on, Trent becoming more and more vehement about how desperately he needed, well, what he needed. Katsuya leaned back enough to bring his legs out from behind the chair, spreading and raising them until his knees were bent over the man's shoulders. He laced his fingers through the man's hair once more, grasping tightly and grinding harder, using his hold on the hair as leverage. He turned his head around to the audience and slowly licked his lips. They responded with more cheers and appreciative comments, and Katsuya untangled his fingers from the thick, brown hair of the man to stroke his own neck and chest for their benefit. They screamed with delight. Satisfied, he returned his attention to the bound man.
He leaned back again, spreading his legs and lowering them from their resting place on either side of his toy's head. It was time; this man would no longer try to escape, if ever he had wanted to. He placed his feet on the ground, reached behind the chair, and untied the hands of his subject. He then slowly bent all the way backward, his hands coming up over his head, eventually resting flat, his hair dusting the floor.
The recipient raised his newly freed hands, hesitated, and then brought them down on Katsuya's stomach, just as he'd known he would. He stroked Katsuya as he'd been stroked before losing his shirt, and Katsuya felt the stirring evolve into a full-on erection. He waited for the next move, as sure of it as he'd been of the last. As expected, the subject's hands grasped him about the ribcage and pulled him roughly upward. Katsuya enjoyed the feeling of his large, strong hands, and he was pleased to see his subject involve himself. The man held him upright for a moment before lessening his grip, his hands then roaming freely over his shoulders, down his arms, under his skirt and up his thighs. He was sweating harder now; his chest glistened under the stage lights, and Katsuya was again struck with physical admiration. Damn, I wish they could all be this hot. He grinned, trailing a finger down the center of the torso he was so glad to have exposed.
Katsuya smiled, placing his hands on top of the subject's, stopping the exploring hands just before they reached their obvious destination. He stood quickly and turned around, re-seating himself so that his back was to the man. He waved at the crowd, laughing. They hooted and laughed back, urging him to finish this one off. He was already a goner.
Katsuya leaned back as far as he could, placing a hand behind the stranger's head, pulling his face down into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. His other hand took one of the subject's and placed it very low on his stomach, pushing it slowly under the waistband of his skirt. He smelled alcohol again, felt the hot breath of the man panting against him.
The song was almost over. This time, when Katsuya rode him, the man placed a hand on Katsuya's hip and arched his lower back to meet him. The hard beat of the song became a tinny piano bit, signaling that the song was ending. Katsuya put his hand on the man's chin, tilted his face slightly, and pressed his lips against the parted ones he found there. The crowd shrieked and cheered, and the man, far from resisting, kissed him with all the passion built up throughout the encounter. Without breaking contact, Katsuya reached behind his head and untied the blindfold, letting it fall to the ground.
And then the kiss ended, and they opened their eyes to look at one another, both breathing heavily with desire. Once they saw the truth, nothing could have prepared them for what they now faced.