A/N: Yay, a new story! Unlike the other stories I've posted here, this one is pretty new (started just a few days ago). This is only the first chapter, and I'm sorry if it's boring, but don't worry, the next chapter will get a lot more interesting. Umm, some quick notes about accuracy in the story. I have no idea about whether prostitution is legal in Japan or not, and I can't be bothered to look it up, so meh. Also, I know the characters should be dealing with money in yen, but I'm used to dollars and don't know how much yen equals a dollar so…just ignore the references to money in the story. And also, if you're, you know, underaged and not supposed to be reading this, then please don't; I really don't want that on my conscience. The rest of you: enjoy! And please review!

Disclaimer: Still don't own Digimon.

Pairing: Taito/Yamachi


Sultry Night: Chapter 1

The nightclub was sandwiched between many other of the same sort on a street in Tokyo's red-light district. Its front was mostly non-descript, the large windows tinted black and a sign on top made of bright pink light twisted into curving letters, read Sultry. During the day, the sign remained off and the door locked, but customers who knew what they were looking for could squeeze into one of the narrow alleys and enter through a side door to get what they wanted.

At night, the place came alive. The street became bright with the sharp, blinking lights of the clubs. Sultry blared with heavy, brain-pounding music; the walls shook with the weighted rhythm of the powerful bass. Bright strobe lights glared at the dancers within, glancing off their shot glasses, the sparkles on their clothes, making the whole place shine. Outside, heavy-built, thickset bouncers stood at every entrance, glaring at the potential clubbers and clients, trying to root out underage partygoers, troublemakers, and undercover cops.

Yamato usually walked in at around ten, when the place would just start getting busy, the crowd of people inside thick, but not impenetrable. Tonight, he was a little late—10:15—but no matter; he didn't think Shin would mind too much. Yamato nodded at Yoshiko, the bouncer tonight, and walked inside, blinking against the sudden strobe light assault on his senses (after months at this place, he still couldn't get used to that sudden glare). His heart thudded with the rhythmic blasts of music, getting his adrenaline going. He pushed down the urge to dance to it, feel his blood pump to the music. He had liked dancing for a living, but what he was doing now paid better. Ignoring the hands grabbing at him, bare torsos rubbing up against him, Yamato made his way through the crowd to the back, to find the manager.

A thick, black curtain separated the dancing, pulsating crowd from the booths in back where clients could pay for ten, twenty, or thirty minute sessions alone with the employees at Sultry. Different people cost different amounts. Ichigo, who was sixteen, inexperienced, and relatively new to Sultry (and also illegal, but Shin kept him on because the clients liked them young) was paid maybe 15-20 per session (Shin also liked to rip him off and keep some of the money for himself); Yamato had been around for a while though, and he knew what he was doing, so he charged a lot more.

Yamato made his way past the booths and the shadowed couples huddled in corners to Shin's office.

"About time you got here," Shin snarled from behind his desk when he saw him, and immediately began to ruffle through the papers on his desk. He was middle-aged and always looked worried and harried, even when feeling up supple young men. Yamato sometimes wondered how he had gotten into this business (perhaps his parents had owned the place before him?)—the thought amused him.

"What's the big deal? It's not even that busy here," Yamato said, raising an eyebrow as he watched Shin fumble around in his desk, pulling open drawers and moving around piles of paper.

"Not this place! You're going to have to leave soon; I hired you out for the night."

Yamato blinked in surprise. This did happen occasionally and Yamato didn't mind doing it because he was paid well for it, but… "You could have told be sooner. I would have gone straight from home," he said as he sat down in front of Shin's desk, watching him ransack the place.

"He only called half an hour ago," Shin snapped. "I wouldn't have agreed without advance notice, but he's an important businessman and I could do with the cash so you better not screw this up. If you take less than 500—"

"I know, I know, whatever," Yamato said, rolling his eyes. "So does this guy have a name or what?"

Shin had given up on the desk and moved to the filing cabinet in his search. "He didn't say. You know they don't sometimes. He said he'd pay anything though, as long as he got the best, so you better not screw up," he said again, turning around from his frantic search to glare at Yamato.

Yamato let a slow, lazy smile cross his face because he knew it would annoy Shin. "Hey, I'm flattered; really, I am," he drawled. "But how am I supposed to find this filthy rich bastard?"

"He left his address—if only I could remember where I put…" Shin abandoned the cabinet and moved to the bulletin board. "…Ah-ha! Here it is! I knew it was somewhere—" He pulled a scrap of paper off the board and handed to Yamato, who squinted in the dim light of the single bulb to read it.

"Crown Plaza, suite 1241," he read. "A hotel? What am I supposed to tell the front desk?"

"He said to go through the back door. There'll be someone waiting."

Yamato snorted. "Typical," he said, folding up the address to put in his pocket. Shin came at him, making shooing motions with his hands.

"Now go, get out of here, hurry. I said you'd be there at 11," he said, pushing Yamato towards the door.

"Great," Yamato muttered, looking at his watch. "It's already 10:30."

"Go," Shin hissed with one last glare, and shoved him outside, shutting the door in his face.

The Crown Plaza hotel was in Tokyo's more affluent area, where the streets shone not with the sullen lights of nightclubs, but with dim, quieted streetlamps. Yamato felt incredibly out of place in his black ripped tank-top, his arms sticky with the glitter and sweat rubbed off on him from the crowd at Sultry, in a street where he was surrounded by respectably-dressed people. The irony of the fact that these people were the ones calling for one-night fucks from places like Sultry as they hid away behind their suits and elegance did not escape him and he had to work to keep the bitter smirk off his face as he stepped toward the hotel.

He bypassed the main entrance and made his way through a side alley to the back. There was nothing in the back except a large dumpster, and certainly no one waiting. Yamato frowned, and squinted through the darkness until he saw a door in the back wall of the hotel. The door had no knob; feeling stupid, Yamato raised his hand and knocked on it instead.

It opened immediately; a fair-haired man in a suit and sunglasses stood in the door. "Sultry?" he asked gruffly.

Yamato looked at him suspiciously (sunglasses at night?) and nodded. Was this the client?

"Come with me," the man said, stepping aside to let him through.

Yamato walked into a long panelled corridor. The place even smelled rich. The black-suited man led him down the corridor to an elevator, and pressed the button for up. The doors opened immediately. The man noticed Yamato's flicker of surprise and said, "This is one of the service elevators. It's available because the regular people in the hotel don't use it."

"Ah." Yamato pushed down his annoyance at having to use a service elevator instead of the normal hotel elevators.

In the elevator, Yamato snuck glances at the other man, who stared straight in front of him. He decided that this probably wasn't the client. The guy wasn't paying enough attention to him. The high-ranking business people often had bodyguards or assistants to bring in their visitors, do their dirty work. These rich, old men thought of everything. Gah! Yamato winced at the thought in his mind. He hoped this client wasn't too old. Old guys were so much harder to do.

Yamato was still recovering from this dreadful thought when the elevator stopped on the 12th floor. He followed the other man down another corridor to a room at the end with the plaque 1241. The man stopped in from of it and turned to him.

"My orders were to bring you here. You are required to stay in this room until 6 am tomorrow by the contract which brought you here," the man said duly.

Yamato nodded, bored; he knew all this. The man gave him one last glare before pulling out a card from his pocket and sliding it into a slot in the door to unlock it. He then pushed open the handle to let Yamato in.

The first thing Yamato noticed as he stepped into the room and the guard shut the door, was that it was dark inside. The only light came from another room with its door open to this one, from which Yamato could hear water running. He guessed it was the bathroom.

The second thing Yamato noticed was the enormous number of plates, some with food still on them, piled on the table. It seemed amazing that only one person lived here.

Yamato could still hear water running; no one had come out yet. He put down the bag he was carrying (filled with toys and such that Shin insisted he take for the high-paying customers) and walked across the room. The wall opposite was made of glass, top to bottom, and through it, the sparkling nighttime lights of Tokyo entered the room. Yamato let out a small gasp as he touched his fingers to the glass and looked at the beautiful, sharpened lights of a city still awake. They were so high up; it would be so easy to—

He heard the water abruptly stop in the next room and turned to see the light turn off. It was all dark now, the only lights provided by the city, keeping the room aglow. He could see the shadow of a figure moving in the bathroom.

"Oh sorry," a voice called from there.

It sounds young, Yamato thought, Thank God.

"I didn't realize Toshi had let you in already," the voice continued. "I was just washing up."

And, thought Yamato, oddly familiar. But where had he heard—

The light flicked on. Yamato blinked against it until he could see. He opened his eyes and felt his heart miss a beat as it jumped in his chest. The man across the room from him stared at him in identical shock, the surprise on his face frozen against the light, dark brown eyes wide, his tanned face coloring as he blushed. Yamato felt his heart break.

"Taichi."


Aaaand we're done with chapter 1. Sorry the buildup was sooo long and slow. Don't worry, the next chapter will be much more exciting as Tai and Matt talk, fight,etc. So check back soon! And always, reviews are greatly appreciated. :)

-spid3r