Message from ultimma~!

Chikay:

I know there's a big chance that this story was ditched by loyal readers because of the long hiatus. I take all the blame, it's my fault.

I've been diagnosed with clinical depression, and that's the reason I had a block for months. My illness is getting the best of me, and the stress with school and life is taking over. Half of this was written only a few days after our last update, and the other half was "forced out" recently. I'm really sorry to Shirai and to all my other readers.

Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long to update. I'm planning on finishing this story by hook or by crook.

Thanks for the patience!

Ps: Not so explicit, but you get to imagine Mello dance. I highly recommend listening to "Chocolate" by Kylie Minogue while reading that part—you'll get the best imagery there.

Mattie, Mattie, Mattie...

You have no fucking idea what you're making me feel right now.

I lick my lips discreetly as I eye the drunken redhead now stumbling back to his seat, the blonde whore beside him giving both of us an incredulous look that may or may not be a mix of envy and shock. Not that I give a fuck as I savor Matt's lingering taste on my lips, the flavor of vodka and nicotine blending perfectly with an intoxicating spice that was his exclusive flavor.

It's been so fucking long (was it three or four years ago?) since we decided to put a little sense of decency between the two of us and finally stop fooling around like a couple of homosexual rabbits trying to have a kid. Matt realized he's straight, I realized I prefer more stable bachelors with a high paying job (does that make me a whore?), then we moved on. We didn't actually fuck, so it wasn't as hard to continue being normal best friends. Besides, we were too busy trying to save money just to get out of this place, move to the city of dreams and make it big. Unlike girls, we don't "think" about feelings or sappy shit like that. Booty call is booty call, even if that's my bro's booty we're talking about.

I lean against the backrest, my arms reaching out to coolly claim the space like an alpha male as I smirk at my companions like a crazy hyena. Near, thankfully, isn't seeing through my facade like the creepy mind reader he is—must be because he's smashed; Light isn't the type to care about other people's business; Matt is too busy with Misa-bitch, whispering over her ear like a gossipy housewife; and I don't give two fucks about the prostitutes. It's all good.

Damn, the air is too humid. I hate this place and the smell of cheap perfume and cigarettes, the raunchy music, and the women who don't bother shaving their armpits or scrubbing their crotches properly to be deemed presentable. Despite the on-and-off playful illumination that can barely reveal a person's face, I can still see improper hygiene. Damn it.

"Mello, your turn!"

I raise my brow in acknowledgement. "Do your worst. I pick dare."

Nate fucking River, that freaky fluff who currently has the honor of giving my hot sexy self a dare, smiles sweetly before declaring his verdict in a firm voice. "I dare you to dance and strip off your shirt on that stage."

I glance at where he's pointing and, thank my Beretta, it isn't the main stage. It's the cage, a place where patrons can dance whenever they're wasted enough to have the guts. As usual, it's empty. The lone pole and the sturdy bars that surround it look polished and never been touched. Considering how most of La Posh's patrons are old geezers sneaking out from the iron grasps of their suspicious wives, my deduction must be true. It's located at the left side of the bar, where people watching the main stage can only see it from the corners of their eyes. Seems legit.

"That's it?" I take a shot of tequila, then a glass of vodka just for that extra courage. Matt grins at my Viking tolerance like he was expecting that, and I smile back. If it's dancing, then these people better get their Benjamin's out.

"I have one request though. Can you put Kylie Minogue's 'Chocolate' on?"

Flo Rida is still mumbling on the speakers with his "I can't believe it, white girl got some ass...bum bum bum" shit as I catwalk my way to the cage.

Oh, you wouldn't believe it, folks. This white boy got some ass and he's using it.

—Fragile seams,

I opened up too quick and all my dreams,

Were walking out

I'd slowly lost my fire,

With every single man a river cried

I had no sensation,

Completely numb, left with no satisfaction,

I thought no one could ever get me high again,

I swear, I was not looking—

I twist my hips slowly, eyes trained to the ceiling as the intro of my favorite song comes through the speakers. My hands wrap around the pole as I slowly sway my hips. I turn my gaze to the audience, particularly to that pair of emerald eyes that have been driving me crazy lately. I grind slowly on the metal, biting my lips while I toss my head back, my glorious blond hair making me look like I'm riding a stallion. Well, as someone who dances in front of the mirror every day, I might be right.

I slowly slide down, slightly tempted to beat these bitches by doing a split or something. It wouldn't be appropriate for the song, though, so I instead spread my legs and rub my leather-clad ass on the bars encasing me. Judging from the sudden silence inside the usually noisy place, I must've made all the straight men inside this place question their sexuality.

—If love were liquid it would drown me,

In a placeless place would find me,

In a heart shape come around me and then,

Melt me slowly down,

If love were human it would know me,

In a lost space come and show me,

Hold me and control me and then,

Melt me slowly down

Like chocolate, Tastes so good,

My heart's been mended who'd have thought it would,

An empty bet and still I won the cash,

A man who I love and who,

Loves me back—

"A man who I love and who loves me back..." I whisper as I glance at the rather shocked bartender whose eyeliner-rimmed eyes have widened comically. I throw a leg over the pole, hugging it, and make a 360 degree before bending over gracefully. I snicker inwardly as some patrons toss me hundreds of dollars. No surprise there; I know I'm sexier than any of the vagina-donning humans here.

My fingers now fumble with the zipper of my vest as I slowly, agonizingly reveal my chiseled chest to the male population of La Posh. No one seems surprised that I'm a guy, which is a relief—I've been mistaken as a chick for far-too-many times and it's not fun. A few more bills fly to my feet, and I feel like a monkey being fed bananas in a zoo. I scowl at the comparison. Great, now I'm pissed. It's a good thing the song is ending...

—Like chocolate come here,

Zoom in, catch the smile,

There's no doubt it's from you,

And I'm addicted to it now

Just one look boy to melt me down,

Just one heart here to save me now,

Your candy kisses are sweet I know,

Hold me tight baby don't let go,

Just one look boy to melt me down,

Just one heart here to save me now,

Your candy kisses are sweet I know,

Hold me tight baby don't let go—

Twisting my waist slowly before going down, I toss my head again before standing up and winking at the salivating albino at the table, and with that my performance is done. I grab the money as well as my shirt before swiftly walking back to our table, taking advantage of the post-orgasmic look of the general audience. Some hands tried to catch me on the way, but I gave them my signature glare and they quickly gave up.

"So?" I give everyone at the table a shit-eating grin.

"My gosh," Light combs his hands through his hair while laughing huskily. "I think you just gave everyone a boner."

The blonde girl claps her hands, a look of genuine surprise on her face as she puffs, "Where the hell did you learn that?!"

I wink at her. "A true magician never reveals his secret."

I see Matt smirk, and I proceed to throw him a threatening glare. None of these bitches need to know I learned my moves from twerking videos on YouTube. He raises his hands in surrender, and I know he understands what my eyes are trying to say.

"Hmm...I wonder."

The freaky prostitute with the Gothic vibe motions towards my left. I follow her gaze and realize that a man in a suit and tie is already making his way towards our table. I shake my head laughingly—must be a homophobic manager who's going to reprimand me for turning all his straight clients gay.

The strobe lights hit the man's face, and my jaw drops to the floor.

That's no manager.

"Oh, shit..."

It's my stalker ex-boyfriend, Raye-goddamned-Penber.

He's still handsome, with black hair combed neatly and cold eyes that used to fog whenever I suck him off. Raye works in a multinational company as a manager (fucker didn't specify), and all in all, he's my type of guy. Until he starts calling every 5 minutes, making surprise visits when Matt is in his underwear and the last straw, proposing we should get married overseas.

So I changed numbers and never answered the door. Good thing I lied about my job, giving him a huge bullshit about me being a firefighter.

Seriously, who would buy that?

"Mellow..."

Fucker still can't pronounce my name right.

"For the nth time, Raye, it's Mell-o. 'O', 'O', 'O'. Drop the 'W', please." The only person I allow to call me with a 'W' is Matt, but only because he's a moron.

"I've been looking all over for you! The fire department said they don't know you, but I believe they're—"

"Fire department? Seriously, Mello?" Matt is giggling like a kid and everyone at the table is gawking at me like a dinosaur bone in a garden.

"What can I say? I'm hot like that." I wink at Matt suggestively before turning back to Raye. "So you decided to look for me in a strip club? Well, I'll be damned. You realized where I'm really working." I gesture to the blonde one on Matt's lap. "Meet my sister, her name's Misa. See the resemblance?"

Blondie chuckles lowly upon realizing what is actually going on. She offers a delicate hand to Raye, silently demanding for a gentlemanly treatment. "Hi, mister."

Raye, instead of kissing the offered hand, shakes it briefly. His eyes don't leave mine as he continues his dazzled rant. "I miss you, Mellow. Don't you miss me? I can only remember how sexy you look when you go down on m—"

"Do I really need to hear this?" sheepish albino whines to no one in particular, but the emo girl pats his head in a semblance to sympathy.

"Looks like you literally blew his mind," Light quips helpfully.

Tell me something I don't know.

Raye ignores all the comments as he continues his speech. "I'm actually with my boss's son, why don't you join our table? I think he knows you, since he said I should call you over."

I squint my eyes to get a good look at the fluffy head he's talking about. As much as I want to refuse Raye...well, I have to admit we're almost out of drinks and I haven't gotten laid in a month. Might as well take the opportunity for a bye-bye fuck. "I don't think I mind," I reply. Then, looking back at my roommate, I ask, "What do you say, Matt?"

Ginger just nods, currently scrutinizing Raye. He must've remembered him as the idiot who went to our apartment when I was out and he was playing his games without bothering to put his pants on.

Mr. Stalker steals my attention again. "Then, let's go?"

I look at him.

Then back at Near.

Then him.

Then Near.

The more I look on, the more those freakish blank eyes seem to open wide.

"L, this is Mellow. Mellow, this is my boss's eldest son."

The weirdo in T-shirt and jeans is squatting awkwardly on the couch, a sweet drink sitting idly in front of him as the rest of the group saunters to the seats farthest from him. Cunningly, I push Light from Matt and sit between them, forcing him to sit beside my ex's freaky buddy.

"My name is L. Hopefully, you wouldn't mind joining us tonight. Or do you have other plans, Near?"

I glare pointedly at the drunken ghost that is Near, now on the lap of his bitch for the night. "Excuse me, you know this sheep?"

The guy bites his thumb thoughtfully, picks the cherry off his drink, and suckles on it, obviously taking his time to answer. "If you must know, he is my half-brother. I'm surprised he was allowed inside this raunchy place, considering the fact that he looks underage—"

"L, fuck you and shut up." Whoa. Near sure does have a sweet mouth on him when drunk.

"I think you look familiar," Light pipes up.

L tch-ed softly, as if he's not used to not being recognized immediately. I wouldn't hold my breath on it; we're all drunk and it took me a few moments myself to realize he's the guy who's panic-buying our candy back at the convenience store.

"Our eyes met when I was at the store earlier. Though we haven't exchanged words..."

"Oh...kay..." Light nods stupidly, a bit put off by the answer.

"So, you're the son of Raye's boss? That's quite interesting." Matt smirks, wrapping his arms around Misa like some low class pimp. "Do you do business or is it public services?"

"A bit of both, I must say."

I shake my head and squirm uncomfortably when I notice Raye giving me that creepy, weird, serious stare of his.

Matt, hello? A bit of help here!

"My family has businesses and stocks, but our main source of income is a detective agency-slash-law firm. That's where Mister Penber here is employed as an investigator—"

"L! That was supposed to be a secret!"

"Says who?" L quips curiously, head tilting to the side like a child. "You're an investigator, not a Secret Service agent. Discretion of identity is not imperative to such a task."

Raye effectively shuts his mouth.

Needless to say, Light got hooked to the conversation and starts asking questions about investigations and shit. I'm down to my seventh (or is it ninth?) drink when Matt speaks again, this time with a slur. "Wait, wait. Anyways, any of you wanted to help us out? We are planning to make some porno here, nothing cheap but nothing too classy either. Something with concept or shit like that. We're accepting actresses and actors—"

"How much?" Rem raises a discriminating eyebrow as she rubs her nails on her clothes.

Light sighs. "We have no fixed rate to offer yet, but we do plan on some compensation plus percentage to the earnings of the finished product." He looks up to L and grins. "Is that illegal, Eru-san?"

Here we go again with the Japanese charm. I leer evilly as I place another order for yet another drink. For some reason, that vodka feels a bit too hot. Is it humid here or what?

"Well, not exactly illegal, provided you have documents and the papers to keep it clean." He looks at him eye to eye, and boy, that look isn't exactly innocent. "I'll help you, if you want."

A part of my head is spinning, and that Long Island Iced Tea isn't making me feel any cooler. Plus, I want to take a piss. I groggily stand up and tune out the rest of the conversation, mumbling a slurred, "Bathroom..." to Misa, who helps me halfway to the floor.

I can barely recall how I even managed to enter a stall, let alone aim that stream to the hole where it's supposed to go. Alas, I am a genius, so I still have the sanity to answer the call of nature and yet be deemed presentable. I zip my pants up and open the door, only to be pushed against the tiled wall.

"The fuck—Raye?"

Fucker is hovering over me, his hands all grabby and strange as they caress my thighs. My skin crawls and I feel like throwing up, the flames in my body burning up, and it's not the good kind.

"You bastard! Let me go!" I yell at him. I push at his shoulders, but he doesn't even budge. I do my exercises everyday, and I'm a strong badass male, so my lack of strength can only mean one thing.

I was drugged.

I feel cold lips against my throat and try to once again get him off me. "Mellow..."

"Raye, let—ahh! Let me go!" I hoarsely whisper, struggling even harder. I guess he couldn't hear me and, judging from the heat radiating from him, he might be in the same state as I am.

Whoever did this will get a bullet through his head, I swear to God.

"Mellow, I feel so hot...Mmngh...Can you help out?"

A mouth that tastes like beer covers mine, and I almost gag. Shit, I don't want this. I feel the heat and all, but I'm not some kind of a wild animal, damn it...

Just when my knees are about to give out, someone pries Raye away from me and I'm caught in someone's strong arms. It's Matt. I can't look at him properly, but the smell of cigarettes and fabric softener is a clear confirmation. L is also here, holding Raye at the collar like some puppy.

"And this is why I'm here," he says, black eyes impassive as always. "A small time syndicate has been drugging patrons and taking videos of them having sex as blackmail material. Raye has been a target, but I didn't know the moron would actually be stupid enough to down the cocktail in one go."

I can hear Light's voice saying something to L, and the two argue for a bit before Matt chimes in. "Now, can the both of you please just talk about it later? I know Mello here isn't exactly feeling dandy. Light, take my keys and wallet. You two can talk it over privately and just go home when you're done; I'll be taking Mello home. Near will be paying for everything else, so make sure you don't let that puffball escape."

My stomach lurches and I'm swerved to the toilet bowl just in time for my intestines to pour out. I can taste the nasty concoction of nachos and vodka on my tongue, and damn it, it's nasty as fuck.

"Shit, Matt," I groan pathetically. "I don't care anymore, just take me home right now!"

I can feel him wipe the vomit away and, with a gentle assistance, he leads me to the door.

So this was chapter...something for you guys! Again, we apologize for the late chapter! Life happens, unfortunately, but hopefully the next update will come faster!

In the meantime, stay tuned!