Are you comfortable, right there, right there.
Kurt and Blaine stepped into a club in Greenwich Village, both a little confused.
"What is this place?" Blaine asked.
It was dark, everything was covered with red leather, paint, or even red light. There was every kind of person there. Some men looked really affluent, smoking cigars. Some men looked about their age, sitting at tables with drinks with friends. There was a large, full dance floor in the middle of the room.
"Isabel wants me to write an article about this place for the Vogue website. She thinks it's really chic," Kurt said.
Blaine choked on the smoke from a cigarette belonging to the guy next to them. "I think it's a health hazard," Blaine said under his breath.
"Let's sit down," Kurt said. He led Blaine to a booth.
Once they were seated, they both ordered their Shirley Temples and Kurt took out his notebook and camera and began taking notes.
Blaine just sort of sat and watched.
"I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable," Kurt said.
"It's not a big deal. It's just kind of weird here," Blaine said.
"Let's dance. Maybe we'll both feel better," Kurt said. They got up and managed to get through only one song before a few other guys and even a few girls started grinding up on them and they had to push their ways back to their booth.
"I think I have enough information and pictures," Kurt said, packing up quickly.
"Thank God," Blaine said. He was already halfway to the door. They decided to spend the rest of the night in, so after both showering the smell of cigarettes off of their bodies, they found a movie on Netflix, happy that they were out of there.