Thank you soooooo much for all of your nice reviews, they made me really, really happy and kept me writing, even though this chapter proved to be quite frustrating to write for me since I am just wiating to get to the more exciting parts, but eh, one has to set the scene!
Azeituna: Oh my, thank you so much for your nice review, it made me grin like an idiot _ About Alfred being innocent and Francois being disentchanted...well, we will see. ;)
Kelly the Critic: Thanks so much for already liking the story! I know that he's called Francis but I tend to give him the French version of his name, especially since I am writing from his POV and he would very likely prefer Francois, at least that's what I guess. It's just a little headcanon, I hope it doesn't disturb you too much^^
Happyhappyjoyjoy and A: Thanks for your reviews, I love it when people like what I'm writing 3
Chapter 2
Francois is mildly surprised when he enters the club. He doesn't know what his idea of the "Lost Paradise" exactly was, but he guesses that he has expected something more dilapidated, something clearly brothel-ish, full of forlorn, unloved people seeking for a moment of joy in the arms of a cheap whore (not that Alfred looked cheap, he thinks, but still), but this surely is neither dilapidated nor immediately to be recognized as a brothel.
It looks like a normal club, one of the better ones even, with clean, dark-red walls and a shimmering, black floor. There is a dance floor in the middle of the biggest room where completely normally-dressed people are having a good time dancing to and enthusiastically screaming the lyrics of well-known songs echoing from big black speakers on the walls. The long-stretched, black bar lighted with hundreds of colourful neon signs opposite of the entrance on the head of the room overshadows everything and is apparently the heart of the club.
He sees the drugs, of course, but they are dealt discreetly in the shadows the club generously provides. However, the prostitutes are displayed quite openly, a wide range of more or less pretty people, nice young women and men in clean, erotic clothes which show a lot of naked skin, moving among the crowd with inviting smiles and whispered promises. He watches a young woman with short, brown hair disappear with an older gentleman in one of the almost invisible alcoves framed by thick, red curtains Francois only notices now.
Then he gets aware of the security staff.
They are almost completely blending in with the rest of the crowd, young, Asian people, maybe four or five, nothing more, but their focus seem to be everywhere. They are constantly in motion, flowing through the people, obviously reminding the prostitutes of their duty, complimenting drunk people bashing around out of the club. Only one of them never changes his position and Francois lets his gaze wander over him. He is young, painfully so, with big, dark eyes and shiny, black hair reaching to his chin, wearing something akin to a Kimono, Francois was never really interested in Asian ways of styling. His face wears no expression at all, which Francois finds impressive, at least somehow. He has the slight feeling that this young man is important, so he makes his way over to him to ask him about Alfred.
However, he doesn't get the chance to reach him because a young, Asian woman appears in front of him. She has sleek, almost black hair falling like a waterfall down her back, a pink rose tucked behind her ear, and her eyes are big, dark and soft like those of a doe, but the look she is watching him with is weary and not at the least naive. Her mouth is small and heart-shaped with rosy, full lips accentuated by the slightest hint of lip gloss. She is wearing bright, happy colors, a pink, gold-trimmed qipao with long, flowing sleeves and a long, white skirt with pink slippers on her feet.
"May I help you?" She asks softly and gently and smiles at him. There is a slight accent in her voice he finds quite charming.
"Ah, non, cherie, I am not here for a woman tonight," He replies with a warm smile on his own and she laughs.
"Oh, I am not available anyways," She replies. "I am a member of the staff. Are you looking for someone special? We have some really nice young men who would love to entertain y-"
"Actually I am looking for Alfred," He interrupts her and believes for a moment that her eyes widen a bit.
"Alfred?"
"Yes, well, he is taller than me by a few inches, blonde hair, blue ey-"
"I know who Alfred is," She says and coughs lightly. "It's just…normally he never tells his name to customers, but eh, it's fine." She pauses and thinks for a moment, then she continues: "You are lucky, he is working here tonight. You will have to wait for a moment, though; he is occupied right now as far as I know. Please follow me."
She leads him through the club, passing the alcoves until they reach a black door, which she opens. Francois doesn't need her request to follow her through, entering a long floor with several doors; some are open and Francois glances curiously through one of them. He is pleased to see a tasteful room with a big, double-sized bed covered in dark bedclothes. There is not much else in the room besides a big closet and a table beneath a small window with closed curtains.
"Please wait here," His female companion tells him and stops in front of a closed door. "He will be ready in a few moments, I guess."
"Merci," Francois says with a charming smile and watches her leave, her steps elegant and light. He passes time by litting a cigarette and leaning against the wall opposite from the closed door, ignoring people walking in and out of other rooms around him as time passes on. There are many things going on in his head; his newest project, the portrait he is currently working on, the party he got invited to and will probably not attend because- there is no reason. He doesn't feel like it, that's everything of a reason he needs and it effectively distracts him from following the small thought of the reason as to why he is running after a hooker and what it is that makes him ache for the chance to draw him.
It doesn't need only one, but two slowly smoked cigarettes until the door in front of him opens. A young woman steps out, her fine clothes are askew and the line of her brown hair seems slightly sweaty. When she becomes aware of him, she blushes and averts his gaze as she rushes past him, eager to reach the official part of the club again. Francois blinks for a moment after her, then he shrugs and enters the room. The heavy smell of sex fills the air, even though the window is opened, and the sheets on the bed are crumbled and partly falling off the mattress. There is a door in one of the sidewalls and he assumes that it leads to a bathroom since there is the sound of a shower, but it's closed, so he decides to stare at it after he settled down on the very edge of the bed. He doesn't have to wait long until the door opens and Alfred steps out of a tiny bathroom (which lets Francois congratulate himself to be wonderful and as talented as Sherlock Holmes in the science of deduction). His eyes widen a bit when he gets aware of Francois, then he smiles. "Oh, hello, Frenchie! Couldn't wait to see me again, could ya? How are you?"
"Well, I've surely missed you," He replies with a small smile and watches Alfred dressing. As someone with a deep love for fashion, he notice Alfred's clothes out of habit: tight jeans, the waistband dangerously low, a crumbled, blood-red shirt Alfred only closes with one button in the middle so Francois can perfectly well see his broad chest and his flat abdomen.
"My work clothes," Alfred says when he notices his look and laughs, but somehow it doesn't sound happy. "One needs to show what he has, rule number one."
"And what are the other rules?" Francois asks, but Alfred just smiles and asks: "What can I do for you, Frenchie?" He already makes a move for him, but Francois hastily stops him before Alfred can sweep him into his arms, whereupon Alfred looks confused, very much so.
"I am not here for your, ah, services, my dear," Francois begins to explain and takes a long drag from his newly-lit cigarette, before he continues: "I wanted to ask you a special favour."
"Me? A special favour?" There is a new level of confusion visible on Alfred's face, his bright blue eyes wide and surprisingly wary, but Francois supposes that living as a whore is not really helpful in becoming a trusting person.
"Yes," He answers and tilts his head lightly, feeling his hair brushing lightly against his cheek. "I would like to draw a picture of you."
"A—" Alfred seems speechless and stares at him for a long moment, then he laughs nervously and runs his fingers through his hair in a quick, almost nervous gesture. "Now why would you wanna do that?"
"Mon cheri, you are beautiful!" Francois replies honestly surprised; then he decides to be utterly honest. "I thought about it the entire last two days since our-" He pauses and tries to seek for a better word for "animalistic fucking" and goes for: "-meeting. You see, I cannot quite explain it since it is something one must feel, but I had the image of your eyes imprinted on my soul."
"That sounds like a lotta bullshit," Alfred states pragmatically and Francois laughs, because, yes, it actually sounds like a phrase from a poem, but how else should he describe the moment of inspiration, the fluttering spark enlightened by an unknown power in the heart of an artist? How could he describe the haunting ideas and pictures in his head, begging to be released from the crowded space of his mind, filled with ideas and ideals and more, begging to be able to get on canvas in bright, lovely colours, shaped with the craftiness of his mind, the technique in his fingers and the tender streaks of his paint-brushes?
"I cannot describe it to you," He says quietly and offers an apologetic smile. "All I can tell you is that I would really like to draw you. You have such an expressive, pretty face, it's incredible."
Alfred's ears become a bright red and he laughs sheepishly. "Ah-well, thank you." He pauses for a moment, his forehead wrinkling in concentration, then he sighs. "Well, uhm, I wouldn't mind, you know, it's just…When do you want to start?"
"I thought about tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" Alfred looks flabbergasted. "You're really serious, aren't you!"
"I am," Francois says with a laugh and pulls out his pack of cigarettes to take of them out of it.
"Well, uh—" There is hesitation in Alfred's eyes, but Francois can watch them harden with determination in an instant. "Tomorrow's fine. What time?"
"Not before twelve am," Francois answers promptly and adds a kind smile. "After that, you're welcomed to come whenever you want, just ring."
He writes down his address on the back of Alfred's hand and, after a moment of thought, adds his cellphone number to wink at him. "Don't lose it, cheri. There are dozens of Chantals and Jacques' who consider this number to be pure gold."
He walks out of the room with Alfred's surprised, hearty laugh in his ears and a pleasant feeling in his chest.
/