Mihael "Mello" Keehl
Executive Manager
Charm Lounge Inc.
888-888-888
Mail Jeevas's jaded gaze traced the impeccably inked cardstock over and over as he examined it in his careful grasp.
For the thousandth time, he wondered what exactly the Charm Lounge was, where it was located, and why there wasn't a goddamn address printed on the business card. Something in his raw gut told him that the operation that Mello was seemingly in charge of was shady at best. But instead of being repelled, Mail was helplessly and absolutely intrigued.
He was also supposed to be working.
Mail glanced at the polished ivory phone sitting innocently at his desk. It seemed to coo to him softly like a dove. It beckoned him to touch it and use it shamelessly to search for trouble; for Mello.
He reached a quaking freckled hand towards the receiver and then retracted it back with a frustrated sigh.
Mail wished that he could dial the perplexing number but he wasn't able gather enough courage to do so. Besides, what would he say? Mello had vowed to protect him or please him but he didn't necessary need either one of those offers. He just wanted to be near the other man, smell his coppery scent, touch his soft blonde hair, and hear his honeyed voice. Anything else seemed like icing on the cake. Mail felt very much like a love-struck adolescent female, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
Mello had only been present in a fraction of his life but the blond had managed to tint his existence into an entirely different hue. Mail found his typical daydreams becoming more realistic and his inexperienced body craving unspeakable things at the worst times possible.
Now was one of those times.
Unconsciously, his hand drifted down to his heavily clothed crotch. Mail closed his speckled eyelids and imagined a familiar moist tongue teasing the back of his throat. Mail was positive that Mello was accomplished at using his wicked mouth in a variety of sensual ways. He wanted Mello's tongue to taste every part of him. He wanted blue eyes to burn him with explicit violation, and glove hands to stroke his body lustily. Mail clumsily fumbled with the zipper of his corduroy work pants. His fingers worked desperately to create physical friction to compliment his thoughts. A barely audible moan escaped chapped lips.
A quiet "ahem" gently interrupted the beginning of his intimate daydreaming.
Mail rapidly fished his hands out of his pants and rested them as innocently as he could atop his desk. He couldn't believe that he'd been about to wank at work…but then again, he was well aware that some of his sketchy coworkers had committed far worse misconducts. Mail willed his fired cheeks to settle to a manageable blaze and tried to plaster a semi respectable expression on his face. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a compact packet of paperclips in another attempt to appear less flustered.
As always, he started slightly as he met the empty gray eyes of his new boss Nate Rivers, who was waiting patiently for him to recover.
Mail tried not to stare at Nate and failed miserably. It wasn't like he was the only one struck by the man's exotic looks and even more bizarre demeanor. Nate looked like he was a polished twelve year old boy, even though he was actually in his twenties. Mr. Rivers couldn't have been more than five feet tall and his faded gray work suit swallowed him whole. His hands were delicately molded marshmallows; flawless, pliable, and unmarred. His stark white curls bordered his oversized steel irises and his lips were a naturally vibrant pink. His droning voice was as monotone as crackling television static. He cleared his pallid throat again.
"Mail, would you mind if I ask you a somewhat personal question?"
Mail willed himself not to be freaked out by Nate's flat gaze and lack of expression.
"Um, no…"
Nate reached out, too quickly for a normal human, and snatched the business card from Mail's cluttered desk. Mail stifled the juvenile urge to viciously grab the card back. Nate scanned the text with automated eyes.
"What is the significance of this business card? I have observed you gazing at it from the moment you begin working for me."
Mail opened his mouth, and then closed it with a soft creak of his jaw. He ran his thin fingers through his sloppy haircut. Heat seemed to prick his neck and cheeks almost violently. His stiff collar threatened to choke him. He was positively drowning in crimson embarrassment. Mail's voice splintered painfully as he tried to verbally assemble the pieces of a humiliating, personal, and confusing puzzle.
"Ermmm, that's ah…it's…I…I'm really sorry, Nate…I can…um, not look at it anymore."
A tight smirk twisted the right corner of Nate's customarily horizontal mouth. Mail's pupils dilated in shock.
"Mail."
Mail was certain that he was going to be fired.
"Y-yes?"
"Is this a place that you would like to visit? I can take you there after our shifts end if you want."
Mail felt the world warp like a disjointed whirlpool. His red ears burned painfully in disbelief and he was sure he gasped quietly aloud. Nate of all people knew where this place was and was willing to take him there despite his inattention to detail for the entire time he'd transferred?
This was too strange; it was a terrible plan.
No, this was the answer to his fucking prayers.
Mail's mouth formed words before his scrambled mind could catch up. He seemed to have lost all sensation within his hollow chest.
"Y-yeah Nate, that would be…nice. I'd appreciate that."
Nate's mouth did the odd twisting thing again. He seemed strangely excited in a way that made Mail's stomach curl.
"Excellent. We shall depart at precisely five o'clock. I will drive."
The twilight air was misted and crystallized with dew. Clouds puffed around buildings to form natural halos and the city lights slowly blossomed to light like budding wildflowers in an urban meadow. Lately the tumultuous weather had been gloomily stormy and charged with static, but tonight the atmosphere was cleared to crisp cold air.
Mail shyly peeked out through the translucent car window of Nate's electric vehicle. The tan seat leather felt buttery against his fingertips. The car smelled virginal and the windows were so transparent that it was hard to tell if they were open or closed. The modern engine was a barely audible, purring whir. Mail had never been in a car this nice, and he was genuinely afraid to touch any part of it. He folded his hands carefully in his lap and remained uncharacteristically silent.
Nate gripped the steering wheel tightly and his snowy brow barely reached over the dashboard. His aggressive turns around the concrete metropolitan corners were extraordinarily sharp. He never moved his hands or blinked as he focused all of his energy on driving at a fixed pace. Time spun luxuriously, like a rhythmic spinning top.
Mail allowed his drooping eyes to slip shut and he fell into a gentle slumber.
When his eyes opened to the blackness of the night sky, Mail noticed that they were beginning to enter the shadier area of the city, closer to where he lived. The traffic had subsided and Nate cruised lightly down the crowded city streets. Mail observed homeless people halfheartedly carrying cardboard signs and convenience store lights flashing in a provocative blurs as they were passed.
Eventually, the two males reached a modest parking lot next to a dimly isolated alleyway. Nate rolled his vehicle into an intimate space in the back, and then turned to Mail with a boyish grin.
"We have arrived. Now we wait."
"Wait for what?"
"…"
"…"
"…"
Mail fidgeted with nervous impatience. Nate remained infuriatingly still.
"Nate…"
"Hush, Mail."
Mail followed Nate's eyes to a blurred shape that had appeared at a nearby streetlight. As the form approached, Mail could see that it was a woman. She was wearing a cropped pastel pink gown that hugged her amble curves tightly. Her feathery strawberry blonde hair reached her waist and a red pout was painted to her face. Her cherry eyelashes were long enough to tickle her cheeks when she blinked coquettishly. She clacked in the direction of the parking lot on high heeled wings and stopped patiently a few cars away from them.
Nate silently turned off the car's engine and motioned for Mail to get out of the car with him. The two of them walked towards the woman, who was leaning coyly against an expensive black convertible. She winked at Nate, who boldly slipped a small arm around her waist. Her coal smudged eyes met Mail's. She radiated musky rogue.
"Is this a friend of yours, Nathan?"
Her voice felt like crimson manicured nails dragged down his naked back. Mail swallowed slightly and avoided her hot, mascara framed stare.
"Yes. Cherry, this is Mail. He will join us tonight."
"Hello, Mail."
Her voice was thick and it vibrated deeply into Mail's shaky core.
"Hi, Cherry."
Mail cringed as his raspy tenor awkwardly penetrated the night air and he flushed at the bubbling feminine chuckle that followed. Cherry winked at Mail and clutched tighter to Nate. She angled her luscious body towards the flashing city.
"You boys ready?"
Cherry led them back to the alleyway. At first glance, it appeared that there was nothing but spotty concrete ground and dumpsters. But upon closer inspection, Mail noticed a heavily bolted wooden door was concealed within the darkest crook. The small barred window with a peephole reminded Mail very much of a vintage imagined himself in a pinstriped gangster suit, with an imposing pistol proudly concealed in sharp trousers. He blinked and adjusted his glasses in embarrassment as reality slowed faded back in. Now was not the time for daydreams. This was real life, and Mello was closer than ever.
Mail could feel it in his bones.
Cherry leaned her trim body against the door frame. She rapped sharply five times with her sharp fingernails curled into a pointy fist.
"Daddy, it's me."
Mail could hear a stifled booming chuckle from behind the weighty door. His heart involuntarily flopped like a wet fish inside his ribcage. He looked to Nate for reassurance but the gray pools were impassively focused on Cherry. Brass clicks and the sounds of silver gear shifts revealed that there were countless locks on the other side. When the metallic noises ceased, a giant man stepped out from behind the door and held it open graciously.
"Rod darling, so nice to see you."
Cherry planted a generous matte lipstick kiss to the side of Rod's meaty cheek. His thick legs and muscle gnarled biceps reminded Mail of twisted tree trunks. The massive man let out a hum of pleasure directed towards her and then ran distrustful eyes over Mail and Nate.
"Alright, they're good to go. You two enjoy yourselves."
Mail noted that there was a bit too much emphasis on the word enjoy. He also noted that directly behind the little entrance hallway there was an apparently endless dark cavern leading elsewhere. The place reminded him of a dungeon. He could see glowing stone walls, a dark chamber, and a ravenous scaly dragon. Cherry was the Beauty and Rod was the Beast and then there was an albino and a redhead and damn, he needed to focus.
Mail belatedly realized that the others had been talking to him the whole time. He shrugged his shoulders in a sheepish apology. Rod rolled his eyes and then nodded to Cherry.
She giggled and impatiently motioned for them to follow her again. Her white eye shadow glistened and winked in the moonlight. Nate and Mail shadowed her through the isolated pitch black tunnel. There were no windows and the path was framed with plain steel walls that pushed their shoulders in. Mail had the sense that the passage was building, leading up to an explosive climax. He had terrible night vision, so he was forced to slip his hand into Cherry's wickedly soft one. Her whisper was like baby's breath in his ear and he shuddered.
"Almost there."
All he could do was trust her and move towards the sparkling trace of light in the distance.
Mail could feel the music before he heard it. It was an electrifying, throbbing beat that seemed to inject itself into his waiting veins. As their small party drew closer and closer to the rosy lights ahead, the music and Mail's beating heart drastically increased in volume.
A few moments later the tunnel expanded fully, the pressure of claustrophobia was lifted, and Mail found himself bathed in dazzlingly dancing pink light.
His shining green irises took in the elegant crystal chandeliers, the glimmering canopy lounge beds, the shining silver poles with lithe bodes erotically draped over them, the exquisite buffet tables of varied cuisine, the modern blue tinted bar, and the swaying, beautiful bodies of the club guests. The lounge was gorgeous, and Mail felt a strange sense of pride that Mello managed such an elite place. With his plain work clothes and dork laced demeanor, Mail felt that he certainly did not belong here. He reluctantly sensed his aura shifting from happiness to something far more desolate and devastating. He looked down at the glittery floor in suppressed shame and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Just then, Cherry drifted over to him. Her delicate hands clasped his burning cheeks and she forcefully brought his wavering gaze up to engage her fiery one. Mail gasped quietly as he felt her obviously bare crotch rubbing moistly against his work slacks. She obviously had the wrong idea, because there was only one person he wanted in this entire club and she lacked the proper anatomy to even be eligible.
Mail wondered where Nate had gone, until he glimpsed the white haired man leaning fondly against the sizable bosom of a blonde dancer. At the same time, Cherry's hands invaded the pockets of his collared shirt and she hungrily mouthed his neck with staining red lips. They reminded Mail of frog lips; drooly and far too moist. He physically winced under the assault. Unfortunately, through the party induced shock, Mail couldn't quite find the strength to push her off. He slowly opened his mouth to explain to her that he wasn't interested.
That was a mistake.
Cherry slipped a tiny white pill between his lips and roughly kissed it down his throat. Instinctively, he gripped her petite smooth arms in shock and she squealed in delighted lust. Mail choked, gasped, and sputtered but it was too late. He pushed the little red haired girl off with disgust. He glared into Cherry's heavily dilated pupils.
"W-what was that?"
"Just a little something to help you loosen up."
"How could you-"
But before Mail could finish forming his angry sentence he found his field of vision invaded by little black speckles. Speaking, and even thinking instantly became challenging tasks for him. The music and voices of other partygoers hummed, slowed, and slurred in his ears. Mail's eyelids fluttered furiously and his knees buckled.
Thin, feminine arms caught him and began to drag him through crowded throngs of people. He was aware of Cherry's sugary perform scorching his nose and a thickly cloying sensation that began in his head and traveled throughout his entire system. Mail could feel his body being pushed down onto silky sheets and he looked up to find himself snuggled within a towering cocoon of fabric. Through heavy lashes he could see that Cherry was slowly slipping out of her tight pink dress and reaching over to unbutton his shirt.
"N-nnnoooo…"
Mail's voice was garbled and his thoughts were coated in the drug equivalent of sticky molasses. He didn't want this; especially from this female escort. He wished that he had never come to this place, but it was all for Mello. Mentally he felt unspeakable sadness welling up inside. Mello was absolutely nowhere in sight. Maybe he didn't even own this club and he'd played him this whole time. Regardless he knew that people like himself didn't belong in places like these for a reason. Mail could never fit into a scene like this…a scene that Mello created and probably thrived in.
Regrettably, Mail's drug pumped body ignored any foggy emotional signals from his mind and chose to respond, quite literally, to a more primal and pressing stimulation. Cherry had managed to slip his member out of his pants and was running smooth wet lips over his tip. Mail groaned in frustration and fidgeted helplessly under her grasp. This seemed to have the opposite effect, and she took his length completely down her throat with a wet pop of suction.
"G-god…that's…you're…please stop, please…I want…I want Mello…"
The redhead stopped her ministrations and brazenly looked up at him from between his spread legs. Her plucked eyebrows arched at a sharp angle and her lips pursed in thought. As opposed to annoyance, her expression softened into mild puzzlement. Mail was sure that she didn't get his sort of reaction very often from her clientele. Cherry regarded him with open curiosity.
"Did you say Mello? As in, Mihael? The owner?"
So he was at the right club. Mail felt a slight stab of pathetic reassurance.
"Y-yeah…"
Cherry rested her elbows on Mail's naked thighs. Mail stared at her in disbelief as she perched herself nonchalantly in front of his exposed erection. He vaguely wondered if being a whore made you desensitized to tenderness or bodily influenced sensitivity. He watched Cherry's face morphed into girlish innocence and she smiled sweetly as she thought about Mello.
"Mihael is really pretty isn't he?"
"Y-yeah…"
Mail chided himself for failing at any aspect of verbal eloquence, but Cherry didn't seem to mind. She had a far off, softened dreamy look at the mention of Mello's name.
"Mihael is actually a really wonderful person. I think…I like him the best out of all my managers. He's so guarded, y'know? But I feel like he's guarding really valuable treasures. Like, he has a heart of gold or something. Oh gosh, I'm rambling! I'm so stupid, don't listen to anything I say. I must of had more drinks than I thought!"
Cherry blushed at her own words.
"No…it's…I think I know what you mean."
Mail met her eyes and sought to reassure her. The two of them shared a tender moment of silence.
That is, until Mail realized that he was still in a state of unwanted partial nudity and that Cherry was much too close to his manhood for his liking. She chuckled at his instant blush of humiliation and his fervent attempts to dress himself with his sluggishly intoxicated limbs.
"Please, could you pull my pants back up for me? I can't move because of the pill you gave me. You're really pretty but I d-don't want to have s-sex with you."
Cherry smiled crookedly and genuinely at Mail. He noticed that underneath her heavy makeup, she looked very much like a seventeen year old girl. Her bright irises shone with the pure desire to be accepted and the friendliness of a lonely child. Mail secretly pitied her.
"Yeah, sure! Of course, I'm sorry about this…I guess I assumed you were just like the rest. I didn't mean to violate you or anything."
Mail's eyes crinkled with good-natured forgiveness.
"It's okay; I'm sorry that I yelled at you before. I just really n-need to find Mello."
Cherry confidentially leaned over Mail and reached behind him to gently pull up his pants from the back.
"Damn, your belt is stuck. Hang on a second..."
She cradled his drooping neck to her chest in an attempt to support his spine while she tried to untwist his coiled leather belt from around his waist. Mail leaned into her small chest, grateful for the added warmth she provided with her beating heart and lingerie clad breasts.
Both of them unconsciously released contented, peaceful sighs.
At that very moment, light spilled into the intimate fabric tower as the curtain was viciously pulled back. A sleek blond head pushed through without hesitation and stared in open shock at the exposed bodies of two gorgeous redheads. Twin heartbeats increased as they scanned the appallingly familiar features of the intruder. Dual sets of forest tinted irises gradually took in the beautifully twisted lips, the modelesque angled jawline, the icy blue pools of iris, and the yellow locks of silk.
There was a tense moment of breathy silence, and then the previously heated air was instantly frosted by a hissing tone of amused suspicion.
"What the hell is this?"