Notes: Well, this is an experimental chapter (actually, chapter II) for a story Client if you didn't already guess the title (-.o""). The reason I don't have the first actual chapter up here is because my computer crashed while I was perfecting it, and it lost everything I had done on it. Why didn't I rewrite it? ehh... i was lazy. And I wanted to see how the story would do. Besides, it was more like the prologue anyway. so THERE. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything related to it in this story, I do not own Duran Duran or their song 'Bedroom Toys' of which this fanfiction is based of of and uses. I do however own this story and any peoples who wish to use the text or ideas from this fanfiction must ask permission from the author (LSL). Thank you.
WARNINGS: This story contains slash, or m/m relationships. If this isn't your thing, and are either against it or aren't comfortable with it, please, don't read and then criticize. Actually, just don't read at all.
- -
Bakura walked down the street just before twilight, jacket slung over one shoulder and his shirt unbuttoned just enough to not appear sexy. He hated the stares he got when he dressed like this – all the girls ogled him, and it wasn't his idea of a good time, no, it was his darker half's. But it was the very same darker half that kept food on the table, disgraceful profession or not.
It was the ogles of the girls – and occasionally men – that determined if this evening's crowd was willing. Bakura would drive into downtown Domino, and then line up with the rest of the competition, hoping someone would take notice of the teen with the long, white hair and the lithe form.
When someone did pull up beside him, Bakura would go to work, charging15,000 yen an hour. Low rates, considering what the competition demanded. One person Bakura knew wanted 75,000 yen for a half hour, when Bakura could do the same quality job.
Why didn't he charge more? First off, it was suicide to change your rates, especially if you had regulars like Bakura did. He was known for what he did among the circles of people who were able to pay more than he asked, and they always did. If they were impressed.
Looks were everything in this business. If you got it, flaunt it, and maybe somebody will like it, and Bakura always flaunted it. For the males, it was all about tight pants, undone button down shirts, and something personal that makes it unique. Bakura had his marvelous hair, and a black messenger bag slung over his shoulder, the contents of which were presumably 'unknown' (though they were fairly obvious).
The way he presented himself was also an affair. He had his territory - the competition had theirs. Though most of it overlapped, there were certain places that were off-limits. Bakura, being a legend in that profession, had his own street, which he shared with only his protégés. Some of his friends working a few blocks away would occasionally pass up a client to direct them to him, and Bakura owed a pretty few favors at any given moment.
Well, tonight it seemed there was a willing supply of clients.
Bakura sighed inwardly as two middle-aged businessmen glanced his way and checked their wallets.
It was going to be a long night.
