One Week
One Week
Title: One Week.
Author: liketostopthen
Rating: Like 15? It's not graphic or anything, just has a fair amount of swearing.
Pairing: This is where it gets complicated. It's Ryan/Colin I guess. Though it could also be seen as Ryan/Colin/Greg really and probably is closer to that. It has a large amount of Ryan/Greg in it too. :)
Summary: A lot can change in a week. AU. Colin's POV.
A/N:
I don't like to build a background outside of the fic, but I feel I need to just give the premise. Ryan says that he got out of stand-up just as it was getting popular. Colin says the only reason he caught his love for performing was because someone dared him to try out for a play. So what if no one did dare him? And what if stand-up never did get popular, and by default, neither did improv? Would Ryan still be doing stand-up in strip clubs? Maybe.
And that's where we are. :)
Big thanks to Lucy as always. She's a super amazing beta! Send love her way! :)
Saturday.
I closed my eyes and let the beat of the music vibrate through my body, the sound almost deafening, drowning out all my thoughts.
The loud baseline shook my body, all my muscles twitching and loosening almost in rhythm, a pleasant hum resting low in my stomach
The heat inside was almost unbearable, the collar of my new shirt sticking uncomfortably to my neck and I rolled my sleeves up higher, desperate for some relief.
I opened my eyes, blinking hard as the lights flashed, bright colours bringing alive the clouds of smoke that swirled together and danced around me.
I felt like I was suffocating, and when I tried to breathe in deeply, instead of cool fresh air, I inhaled a brutal combination of cigarette smoke and stage smoke, my throat burning at the taste. I took a final long gulp of my drink, the scotch cooling and soothing, until the burn moved lower and rested deep inside me.
"Oh yeah!" Someone half shouted half moaned behind me, the voice just a slight tone louder than the general hum coming from across the bar. I glanced around to see my workmates, eyes wide and fixed on the stage above them, dollar bills in their hands and drool practically dripping from their lips as they stared, enthralled.
Girls above them danced and grinded and teased them mercilessly, lapping up their attention and their money, twisting and turning around poles, tiny costumes strategically placed. Balanced on the long narrow stage, their metal heels clanged against the floor and their bodies, shiny and hot and completely in sync with the heavy beat of the music, moved sensuously together.
"Excuse me." A sultry voice said and a girl slipped in front of me. Leaning so close that I could feel her long hair tickle my cheek, she pulled my empty glass from my hand and smirked at me.
She was young, barely twenty-one if I had to guess, dressed in an outfit similar to the girls on the stage. The tiny apron around her waist and the tray in her hand were the only items differentiating her from them and as she fluttered her eyelashes obviously at me, all I could wonder was why she had decided to be a waitress rather than a stripper.
This part of the bar was empty, clearly the only reason she had chosen to collect my glass, the metal tables that littered the floor of the dark room bare, gradually filling as they neared the stage. The crowd were all gathered around the performers instead, captivated by the entertainment.
Sat just down from me, towards the wall, sat the only other patron this end of the club. He was a large man, with buzz-cut hair, over-emphasised glasses and a way too cheerful grin. He was talking happily with the bartender.
They must've realised I was watching them, because I found them both looking over at me suddenly, enquiringly.
My lips twitched in an almost-smile but I said nothing more, looking down at my empty hands, the waitress long gone.
I expected them to go back to their discussion, yet after a second, I felt the bartender approach.
"What'll it be?"
He asked, his voice low and husky, just loud enough that I could hear him clearly. He was tall, towering over me, even as I sat on the high barstool, and he barely looked at me, eyes scanning the bar slowly, checking for anyone else before eyeing my empty hands.
I gave him my drink order, and he nodded, his movements fluid and effortlessly in sync with the music as he worked around the cramped space behind the bar, not sparing me another glance.
"Oh, look who's up." The other man said suddenly, loudly, his eyes drawn over to the stage like everyone else's. I glanced there too, noticing some new girls coming out, the others dropping down to circulate the crowd.
The bartender didn't look up, simply murmured "Off you go then," his voice once more the perfect volume to be heard, and slid my glass in front of me. The other man disappeared over to the crowds, as I slid back a note to the barman, studying him whilst he dealt out my change.
He was skinny, kind of gawky looking, with long limbs, yet he moved smoothly and he seemed comfortable in his own skin, standing up straight with a hidden confidence.
An unruly curl of blonde-brown hair fell over his forehead, sticking to the thin layer of sweat that had formed there, and he pushed it back with long fingers, two intricate silver rings glistening under the spotlights.
"First time?" He asked me, casually leaning over the bar next to me, the top buttons of his black shirt undone, a sliver of his tanned chest exposed.
"For a while." I replied, drawing my eyes to his, as I tried to remember the last time I had come to a place like this. I'd been a lot younger, sneaking in with friends in a rare rebellious moment from my teens.
He nodded, running his hand through his hair again; eyes finally meeting mine, pausing there for only a second. Then, he ran his eyes over me, up and down, slowly and teasingly and I forced myself not to blush as I felt over-exposed under his gaze.
Green eyes finally met mine once more, and he gave me a small smile that I felt meant something, yet I wasn't sure what.
"Not enjoying it?" He asked, nodding his head briefly towards the stage.
"Oh no, I'm having a wonderful time." I replied, upbeat, taking a long sip of my drink, watching him over my glass. He narrowed his eyes for a second, before smiling again, the skin beside his eyes creasing briefly.
"I guess a better question would be why?" He said, and he was right, it was a better question, yet I had no idea what the answer was.
Why was I sat at the bar, away from my friends and colleagues and all the scantily clad girls happy to parade in front of me? Why wasn't the heavy beat of the music and sexual atmosphere enticing me?
"Not really my thing." I explained offhandedly, shrugging. "I'm only here because it's a requirement apparently."
I thought back to Brad's words, to his begging and his scheming and how he had kept on until I had caved in. Glancing over to them, I was oddly glad I had, despite my position, because at least they were having a good time.
The bartender looked at me questionably, his eyebrow raised just slightly as he leant across the bar, arms in front of him, head tilted to look sideways at me.
I was ready to elaborate, when another man appeared from one of the many doors around the bar. He slid up before either of us realised, and hit the barman's ass softly, his palm resting in place, holding on firmly. He leant over, pressing his whole body against him, grinding slowly, smirking. My eyes widened and whatever I was about to say flew from my mind at the display.
To his credit, the bartender didn't even look surprised, rolling his eyes at me with a little smirk, as if I was in on the joke, yet I had no idea what it was. He stood up, which caused the man behind him to stumble slightly and then press himself closer, fingers tightening on his hips.
The new man was slightly shorter than the bartender, with fluffy perfectly styled hair, black-rimmed glasses and questionable fashion-sense, and he didn't seem to even see me, as he regained his balance then slid his hands around until they were gripping the other man's thighs. Pressed tightly against him, chest to his back, he perched up, on tiptoes I assumed, and murmured something in his ear.
Their movements seemed practised, familiar, and very sexual and I briefly wondered what either of them were doing in a female strip club.
"Who's your new friend?" The new man eventually said, loud enough so I could hear, still tightly pressed against the bartender. His voice was low and nasal and his words sounded like a come-on, a tease. He began moving slowly to the music, grinding his hips.
"I didn't catch your name." The bartender said politely and conversationally, as if there wasn't a man behind him rubbing into him, smirking smugly and only inches away from touching him up in front of me.
"Colin. Colin Mochrie" I said quietly, unable to draw my eyes away from them. They were interesting, for sure, a world away from the men I worked with.
The other man leant around, finally stilling his hips and moving away, and then stretched out a hand for me to take. "I'm Greg." He told me in the same low sexual way, moving closer to the bar. "And as he didn't introduce himself, this one is Ryan." He added, eyes drifting back to the bartender.
"It's hard to introduce yourself when someone else can't keep their hands off your ass. I have told you about that." The words were said teasingly, almost friendly banter, and they now seemed a mile away from the close performance I had just seen.
I was intrigued.
"Well you are irresistible." The new guy, Greg, said, running his tongue teasingly over his own lips before blowing a kiss.
Ryan simply smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners again, and resumed his previous position, bent over the bar just to the left of where I was sat. Greg leant his hip against it in front of me and met my eyes. "So tell me, Colin Mochrie, was he flirting with you?" Greg asked, drawing out my name slowly, the words velvety and soft as he teased them out.
I glanced between them, suddenly at a loss for words. I could felt myself blushing, my cheeks heating up, and I internally cursed myself for it, hoping it wasn't visible in the darkness.
"Uh...No. I uh..." I started, stumbling over my words.
Ryan saved me, hitting Greg on the arm with a cloth he pulled from his belt loop, supposedly aggressive yet it seemed more teasing than anything else.
"Fuck off, Greg." Ryan said, his tone still light, a smile behind his words.
I glanced between them both, trying to catch on to exactly what their relationship was. Each little glance confused me more, some friendly, some sexual, some blank; each time I thought I'd clued in, they'd change the tone.
Looking back towards the stage, I could still see my friends, happily slipping dollar bills into thongs and slowly emptying their pitchers, completely captivated by the girls in front of them, and seemingly unaware I wasn't even with them.
Whilst I was momentarily distracted, one of the waitresses had pulled Ryan to the side of the bar and I turned back to see him whispering something in her ear, bent over, his lips close and his fingers gently caressing her arm.
I must've made a face, because Greg snorted beside me. I turned to look at him, but he didn't elaborate, simply smirked at me again. "So what's your story?"
My eyes were drawn back to Ryan again, flirting with the waitress, who was giggling girlishly, looking up at him under hooded eyes. His hand had moved from her arm and was now delicately touching her waist, fingers barely there, skirting over the skin.
I blinked hard, shaking my head in confusion, and then turned my attention back to Greg. "I'm a, uh, a student. Marine biology."
He eyed me up and down, eyes slipping over me and almost through me, like I was naked under his gaze.
"I know, I know, I'm a little older... and balder than your regular student. I went back to school." I said, my usual reply to any comments.
He snickered a little, running his hand over my head suddenly, barely touching my skin yet leaving a warmth feeling all across it. It felt way too personal for someone I had just met and I shivered a little, forcing myself not to shy away from his touch.
"And how about why you are here, and not over there putting dollars in fun places?" He asked, his words still teasing, sexual sounding, and I realised that anything he said seemed to sound like a come-on.
I looked back over to the stage again, more girls, all beautiful, freely dancing, enticing the audience, sensually weaving in and out of each other and the crowd. The thrum of the music making their bodies hum, as they moved in sync.
I was about to reply, a nice standard vague 'not really my thing' on my lips, but Ryan had returned, slipping up behind Greg, almost a complete reverse of their previous positions.
Yet, instead of grinding, he simply slipped a hand around his waist, settling it on his stomach, and leant his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm bored and sleepy." He murmured.
"Little miss waitress not catching your attention tonight?" Greg asked him, eyes searching for where said waitress had moved back to the crowd, mingling, taking drink orders and picking up glasses.
"She's gone now." Ryan said simply, keeping his eyes closed, head pressed against Greg's neck.
"Well maybe Mr. Mochrie here could hold your attention better." He replied, eyebrows raised, and I didn't know my name could sound that sensual. I was fixated with his voice, until I realised what he'd actually said. I raised an eyebrow at them myself.
Greg jolted in place, and I got the feeling Ryan had kicked him, because he was smirking. "Again. Fuck off Greg."
Learning over, making sure to press his ass against Ryan as he did so, Greg held up his hand, whispering conspiratorially behind it, despite Ryan being able to clearly see and hear, "Ry here is trying to convince himself he's straight."
That earned him another kick, and an eye roll.
I was even more intrigued and more than a little confused.
"So you two aren't...?" I began, clearing my throat and gesturing to them, before I remembered it really wasn't any of my business and I looked down.
I couldn't help but wonder though, the touching, the banter, the way both of them oozed sexuality like they were made of it.
Ryan chuckled, a deep low sound that seemed to vibrate through me like the loud music. He finally opened his eyes, lifting his head and resting it on Greg's shoulder, arms still around his waist. He made eye contact with me, a smile on his face, as he seemed to stare into me, trying to work something out.
Greg on the other hand simply smirked at me, "Only at weekends." He murmured, drawing out the last word until it sounded almost like a moan. I couldn't quite work out if he was joking, but I guessed it didn't really make much difference.
He started to say something else, but a loud voice shouting from further down the bar, interrupted him, "PROOPS, IN TEN!"
I tried to search out the source but I couldn't find anyone.
"Sorry gentlemen." Greg said politely, extracting Ryan's arms from around him. "Duty calls. Nice meeting you, Colin," He smiled at me, and I wasn't sure I could ever get used to hearing my name sound like that. He gave me a nod, then, maintaining eye contact with me, leant up and kissed Ryan on the cheek, pressing hard for just a second. "Bye lover." He whispered, making sure I could hear it, then smirked and headed off down the bar, a little skip in his step.
I stared after him.
"Excuse him. He's... Well he's Greg." Ryan said after a beat, leaning over the bar again so that he was next to me once more, tilting his head to the side to look at me.
"Ah, that would explain it." I mumbled, jokingly, and was surprised to hear Ryan let out a little laugh. "So where'd he go? He going to strip in a minute?"
Ryan coughed out another laugh, the same deep rumbling sound that spread through my body and made my fingers tingle.
"He does stand-up. Comedy. Little gap in the performance so the dancers can take a break. Also gives everyone a chance to ... uh calm down." He raised his eyebrows suggestively and then smiled at me again.
"Got it. Hard crowd to perform to though." I said without thinking, and he gave me a look, eyes twinkling. "Not in that way." I added, rolling my eyes but smiling despite myself. "Not sure I'd want to be up there by myself telling jokes."
"It's not so bad." Ryan said, knowingly, and I gave him a curious look.
"You’ve done it?" I asked, almost impressed.
He nodded, and I wouldn't have been surprised to hear arrogance in his voice, but there was none. "Three times a week. My turn tomorrow."
"Either of you any good?"
He shrugged a shoulder at me, almost shyly, and it was oddly endearing. "You should probably judge for yourself. Greg's on soon." He paused, and then looked down, his voice just a tiny bit quieter. "You could always come by tomorrow...." He added, then a little grin spread across his face and he raised his voice again. "It's not like you'd lose any money. You don't have to tip me like you would them." He gestured to the stage, the dancers still gyrating away.
I raised an eyebrow, "Ah, so I can't slip a twenty in your pants?"
He leant over to me, getting too close, much like he had been with the waitress, and whispered "Only at weekends." Before leaning back and giving me a look.
I stared at him, suddenly a little flustered, until I saw he was trying to hold back a smile. I took the hint and broke into a grin myself, which caused him to smile widely, finally, laughing softly.
His eyes met mine and we both stared at each other for a moment too long, something passing between us, though I wasn't sure what it was. I found myself shiver again, just slightly, and he smiled a little wider, before looking down, that little hint of shyness coming through again. I smiled even more at that.
"What happened to you?" A voice suddenly said from behind me, causing me to jump and look away from Ryan. Guilt spread through me yet there was no reason for it. "You missed 'Lola'." Brad said, wiggling his eyebrows at me and fanning himself theatrically.
I lifted my drink that I'd barely touched, and nodded my head towards it. Brad lifted his own glass and tilted it towards mine in a 'cheers' gesture, nodding his understanding.
Then he perched himself on the stool beside me.
I suddenly remembered Ryan, and turned back, ready to introduce them. However, he'd disappeared down the bar to some more customers, making eye contact with me briefly, giving me another small smile, before tending to the patrons. The bar had suddenly got a lot more crowded, and I realised that the dancers had stopped, only a couple circulating the floor.
I looked to the stage and spotted Greg, setting up an old worn looking microphone, his jewellery glinting in the spotlights and he squinted his eyes.
"You all right?" Brad asked from my left, looking concerned, all trace of his earlier teasing gone.
I nodded, actually feeling it for the first time since arriving. I'd almost been having fun.
Granted, it hadn't been how I should have been having fun, but I didn't mind that for now.
Right now, I wanted to hear Greg.
-
I was laughing; heavy joyful laughs that made my cheeks go pink and my breath catch.
I was impressed.
Greg was snarky and rude, yet he was also strangely charming and intensely funny, telling stories rather than the usual 'one joke after the other' performance I was expecting. He seemed to be making a lot of it up as he went along, picking random people in the audience to pick on, making comments about events that night, and adapting to anything that happened; people leaving or coming in and the minor mishap when one of the waitresses dropped a tray of drinks.
The audience was tough. A lot weren't paying attention, some made comments about bringing the girls back out and others were too drunk to even hear him. Yet there was a small group, scattered around that were laughing along, even reluctantly.
Brad, still on the stool next to me, was watching also, laughing too, yet not quite as much as I was. My other friends, mostly colleagues from work or college, seemed more intent on busying themselves buying more drinks or counting how many small notes they had left and were barely paying attention.
Towards the end, as Greg seemed to be winding down, the crowds came to life and started to move to the stage, already expecting what was next. I applauded, as did many other people, and the rousing sound of their palms smacking together spread through the room like the smoke, causing a proud smile to flash across Greg's face.
I smiled too.
Then I turned to look down the bar, startled to find myself looking straight at Ryan, as he once again stood close to me, almost too close, his hip leant against the bar, running his cloth through his fingers. "Enjoy it?" He asked, daring me to say no.
"He's not so bad." I replied calmly, clearing my throat, and although I knew he had seen me wracked with laughter, I held the indifferent response. I raised my eyebrows in a challenge, waiting for him to say something. He didn't, yet he met my eyes and I had to work to keep a smile of my face.
Brad coughed, clearing his throat obviously, and I turned to find him watching us curiously.
"Uh, this is Brad. Brad. Ryan." I said, gesturing between them. Ryan nodded in his direction, giving him the once over briefly, before sharing a brief small smile.
Brad nodded back. "Nice to meet you. Think you could convince him to come join us?" Brad asked Ryan, speaking as if I wasn't there. I realised the other guys had headed back to the stage, but I didn't want to go just yet. I was happier here.
I forced myself not to look pleadingly at Ryan, but he seemed to get the hint anyway. He shrugged, looking at me sideways, a little smile on his face, as if he had a secret that he wasn't telling.
"I'm only getting paid to drag them *away* from the stage." He explained.
Brad sighed, but conceded defeat, jumping up out of his seat. "Well, if you ever decide to have some fun, come join us! It's your party after all." He said, giving me a pat on the shoulder, and the touch suddenly seemed tame and distant compared to what I had seen of Greg and Ryan. I watched him as he headed back to the stage, smiling and 'whooping' at the others, before pulling up a chair and drumming his fingers against the stage in anticipation.
"Birthday?" Ryan asked me, curiously, drawing my attention back to him. "Because you get a free drink."
"Uh, not exactly." I replied, and for some odd reason, I hesitated over telling him the real reason for my celebration. Some strange feelings that I didn't recognise swirled in my stomach, and I had to swallow before I could respond because my throat suddenly felt dry. "It's my bachelor’s party." I added finally.
A stunned look flashed across Ryan’s features, but he hid it quickly, simply adopting a blank look. I hoped it was for a different reason, and not because it was surprising that anyone would want to marry me.
I heard a snort of laughter come from my side, and I turned to see Greg approaching. He was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his white tee clinging impossibly close to his skin. He was smiling widely, eyes sparkling behind his frames. "Well that is interesting." He drawled, his words still perfectly articulate, yet they seemed to take more effort than before. "You're getting married?"
"Uh, yeah?" I took a long sip of my drink, letting the alcohol soothe my aching throat once more, and calm nerves that had miraculously appeared without reason.
"Congratulations." Ryan said finally, reaching out a hand for me to shake. He sounded completely sincere, yet he laughed a little at the words, and shook his head as if he was trying to dispel the shock.
"Thank you." I smiled, nodding at him, like that was the correct response.
Greg was looking at me oddly, eyes running up and down me once more in that invasive way, and I felt warm under his gaze. Or maybe that was the alcohol.
Ryan sidestepped over to him, poking him in the waist, almost below the bar, where I assumed he thought I wouldn't see. I did.
"Oh congratulations from me too." Greg said finally, just as sincerely, yet his voice lacked any real emotion. "When's the big day?" He asked.
"A week today." I bit my lip, the thought of my impending wedding sending butterflies fighting in my stomach, my calm acceptance purely external.
Greg smiled and nodded, not saying any more, and there was a long pause, signalling the end of that conversation.
We stood together, in an almost-triangle, the smoke swirling around us like we were stood in the clouds, the heavy beat thumping once more, thriving activity not ten steps away, yet in that moment, there felt like nothing.
Then, suddenly, in what had to have been another practised move, Greg jumped up onto the bar, sliding across it, skimming the surface delicately, before landing gracefully next to me. He pulled up the bar stool next to mine, spinning it before landing on it, and then nodded to Ryan as if he hadn't just performed a impressive gymnastic act. "Drinks all round then." He murmured, smirking happily, yet Ryan only rolled his eyes.
"Like you are going to pay for these?" He asked, yet began pouring me out another and one for Greg as well. He poured a third for himself, downing it quickly, as he slid ours over to us, not bothering to go to the cash register.
The silence threatened to settle again, this time companionably as Greg and myself sipped our drinks, Ryan watching patiently, his eyes darting around the bar sporadically, double checking for anything that required his attention.
"You were really good up there." I said, to break the quiet, and nodded towards the stage. "I was expecting you to take off your clothes but... "I added, trailing off and shrugging like I had been disappointed.
"Oh well you only have to ask...." Greg said, drawing out the last word, that liquid sexuality returning at full speed. I felt my cheeks get warm again and was quite happy to blame it on the alcohol. Greg smiled at me and raised his glass in my direction. "But thank you. I try." He added, bowing his head a tad.
"I'm better." Ryan said offhandedly, a glint in his eye and Greg pretended to choke on his drink. Or perhaps he did choke. I wasn't too sure.
Another pause, then a smirk that could only be described as predatory, spread across Greg's face. "At what?" He asked, making quite clear what he was implying, and he raised an eyebrow in a challenge.
Ryan smirked, adopting a cocky pose, indicating that he was happy with whatever the answer would be. Greg laughed a little, and so did I, and then a comfortable silence settled as Greg and I sipped our drinks, and Ryan moved to serve another errant customer.
I found myself watching Ryan's every move, noticing how he moved comfortably around the bar, pouring the drinks teasingly, smiling and flirting with every waitress or stripper that passed by him.
"Everyone's drawn to him." I mumbled to myself, intrigued by how enchanting he was, how easy it was to be enthralled by him and not pull my eyes away.
I wasn't really aware I had even vocalised the thought, until I heard Greg murmur beside me, "Oh yeah. Boy's got charm that's for sure." There was so many emotions swirling in the sentence, and I spared a glance at Greg, who was watching Ryan like I had been. A hint of longing tinged his words, but more than that, there was a strong sense of pride and of pure happiness there. I wondered once again what exactly their relationship entailed.
And as I drew my eyes back to Ryan, watching as he flipped a bottle before pouring it, his fingers moving expertly over the glass, I wondered even more why I cared so much.
-
-
Sunday
The heat and smoke hit me as I opened the door, the beat of the music already shaking my bones as I moved slowly into the crowded bar. No one noticed me, everyone's attention fully focused on the entertainment, or the drinks, or each other, and I felt anonymous, like I could do anything, be anyone. It was something I had a hint at yesterday, yet today, I felt it stronger. And I liked it.
I wasn't sure why I was here again. Curiosity, I told myself.
I had also been invited, albeit in passing, by him, and so I was just trying to remain friendly.
I honestly didn't have many people I could say I was good friends with, and something had drawn me to him, to them, and I wanted to keep the tiny connection I had forged with them, the glimpse into their lives that I had been given.
I had been running a little late, struggling to come up with a reason for coming out, when I had decided on simply telling the truth, skirting around the fact it was in a strip club and simply saying I was going to see a comedian friend.
When I got there, the bar was crowded, and Ryan was already on stage.
I had practically ran most of the way, telling myself it was only because I needed the exercise, and so I struggled to catch my breath, the smoky atmosphere hindering it more than helping, as I searched for a good view of the stage. Ryan was stood in the spotlight, adjusting the microphone for his height, pulling it up the highest it would go, still a couple of inches short for him.
I found a spot in a dark corner, close to the stage yet away from anyone else and I leant back and watched him. After getting warmed up, he started, running a hand through his hair and throwing out jokes and comments, starting stories that all led to perfect punch lines.
He was good, getting the crowd interested, his comedy edgy and real. Some of it was crude, stooping low to grab the attention of those only interested in one thing, yet he had enough charm that he got away with it. It wasn't until he started working with the crowd, however, did I realise how impressive he actually was.
Much like Greg had, he started picking on people in the crowd, making comments about certain people, certain clothing, and certain things that happened as he progressed.
What impressed me most was that it all seemed ad libbed, and I could tell he was in his element, seeming more alive than anyone I had met as he bounced on the spot, energy flowing through his body. I fought against it, but I eventually couldn't help but give into the fits of laughter that he was inspiring.
Then, as he was scanning the crowd, and I still had a stupid grin on my face, he saw me. He made eye contact with me across the bar, pausing for just a second before carrying on his joke, he eyes staring into mine. He gave me a smile, looking down and that hint of shyness appeared again.
It was oddly endearing, and I found it amazing how he could sound so arrogant, as he was talking someone down, and yet look so insecure and modest as he dipped his head, at exactly the same time.
"Having fun?" A silky voice said from beside me, whispered in my ear, and I jumped, wondering how he'd got so close without me noticing.
"He's good." I mumbled, not drawing my eyes from the stage, unable to even if I wanted to. I was completely captivated.
"Oh yeah." Greg said and it of course seemed as if he was talking about something other than performing, the words so soft and yet dirty, and I felt my cheeks heating again. I really wasn't used to this, I had probably blushed more that I had in my entire life, yet it wasn't the girls as they stripped and writhed, no, it was from these men with their suggestive words and secret smiles.
"It's that charm again. Didn't realise he had you so enthralled though." Greg added, amusement tingling his words and I knew if I turned to look at him, he'd have a smug grin on his face.
My cheeks felt on fire, and I finally pulled my eyes from Ryan, briefly, shooting glances between him and Greg. "I...uh... he doesn't... I was just..."
Greg laughed again; the sound deep and throaty, surprisingly low compared to his usual nasal tone, and then he patted me on the shoulder, his fingers lingering much longer than necessary.
"Happens to the best of us." He told me, interrupting my embarrassed ramblings, and there was that curiosity again, seeping into me and yelling at me to ask what it was they shared. I didn't.
"I don't..." I started, not sure where I was really going. I wasn't even sure what it was I wasn't, because I couldn't deny that there was definitely something there. Something new that I couldn't yet confront.
Greg smiled wisely, and then said simply. "Oh I know. But you will soon."
And then he left me standing in the smoke, feeling lost and confused, and completely enthralled.
-
"Well?" Ryan asked me as he strolled back to the bar, breathless and hyperactive, sweat dripping from his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin once more. The spotlights seem to bounce off of him, his skin glistening and his eyes twinkling as he bounced around, twitching and buzzing in the cramped space.
"You were good." I said simply, plainly, feeling like it was the biggest understatement ever. They were both amazing, much too good to be performing in a place such as this.
He grinned despite my bland compliment, his eyes crinkling shut as he did, and he seemed genuinely surprised and pleased with my answer. I felt a weird feeling in my stomach at the sight, that little drop like you feel on a roller coaster, yet it seemed to send pleasure shooting through my bones. I told myself it was probably the alcohol again.
"Thank you." He said genuinely, the smile never leaving his face; his eyes still alight with pleasure. "Better than him?" He added mischievously, sticking his thumb out and pointing at Greg, who was prowling towards us. When he got near, he slipped his hands around Ryan's waist, once again pressing his chest against his back, yet this time he slid sideways so he could look past him and still see me. Ryan rested his hand casually on Greg's side and Greg's fingers rested on his stomach, fingering the dark fabric.
Greg smirked at me, eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for some answer, and all I could think was his words from before and how they were echoing around my mind, how they had seeped into me and made my body tremble.
"Definitely." I replied, mostly just to spite Greg, because he had that smug look on his face, as if he'd discovered something I had been trying to hide.
Deep down I wasn't so sure of my answer, I'd loved both their acts, their energy and talent shining through their performances and hitting me right in the chest, yet right now, it seemed more important that I tell Ryan he was better.
Ryan's smile spread impossibly wide, and he spun around so he was face to face with Greg, nodding almost smugly.
Greg didn't falter though, unsurprisingly, and instead slowly leant close to him, his lips almost touching his cheek, so near that I thought he was going to kiss him there. Instead, he mock-whispered to him, looking at me and loud enough that I could hear, "That's only because he likes you." He drew out the 'like' tortuously long, wrapping his tongue around the word and making it crystal clear in what context he meant it.
I blushed, hard. The alcohol again, of course.
It made me feel better to see Ryan's cheeks turning a little pink as well, likely from the heat but I would take what I could get. He of course didn't lose his cool either though, instead, he leant closer again to Greg, ensuring to me that in any moment they would likely give in and kiss each other.
They didn't though, instead Ryan whispered back, his voice deep and sultry and once again loud enough for me to hear, "Jealous?"
Greg smirked again, and eyed me up and down once more, his eyes drawing over my body slowly, memorising every inch. "Of you?" Greg said, glancing at Ryan before looking back at me. "Definitely, baby."
I looked down, frozen, and I had no idea how to react. I wasn't used to attention like this.... I wasn't used to attention.
Ryan shoved Greg gently, but Greg caught his hand in his, and bought it to his lips, kissing his fingers briefly, softly, before giving us both equal smug grins, and disappearing towards the back room. "Later, boys." He called as he did.
For a long moment I continued to stare at my drink, willing my cheeks to calm down, letting the beat of the music lay over me once more, like a comforting blanket. I risked a glance at Ryan and found him studying me.
I forced myself to keep my head up, and I met his eyes, smiling and tilting my head sideways.
He nodded, and smiled at me again and it was like we'd just had some secret conversation.
I didn't know what we'd said, but whatever it had been, it made something calm inside me, happiness swirling through me and a strange sort of peace settle, all the sights, sounds and smells of the dark dingy bar disappearing, leaving nothing but him in front of me.
Until he left me once again, languorously moving down the bar, giving me one final lingering look before turning away.
I stayed and watched him.
-
Monday
I was at the bar again, another drink in my hand. The liquid was warming, sliding down my throat pleasantly, and easing away my thoughts. The deadly, smoky atmosphere didn't faze me tonight and it seemed my senses had reached their limit, and simply stopped processing. The same girls were grinding away to the beat as if no time had passed, and another group of guys surrounded the stage, different yet exactly the same to those that had been there the previous night. It was as if time froze here.
The side of the room by the bar was empty once again, quiet except for a group of girls at the other end to where I was sat, the crowds all gathered around the stage instead of course.
The girls at the bar, a mix of strippers and waitresses, were laughing together, giggling quietly, they soft laughter an innocent contrast to the sensual dark movements going on on the other side of the room.
Greg and Ryan were with them, seemingly flirting, smiling and teasing, yet Greg had his hand casually on Ryan's thigh. They were sharing a cigarette, passing the small white stick back and forth between their lips, the movement seeming to signify so much more than just the sharing of smoke as they wrapped their lips around it gently, taking their time to inhale the fumes.
I swallowed, hard.
I pulled my eyes away, staring down at my glass, and I watched the ice as it melted before my eyes, the liquid flowing across it, see-through patterns in darkness.
When I risked another glance up, some moments later, Ryan caught my eye. He stared at me for what felt like forever. Then, taking one more long drag of the cigarette, he handed it back to Greg, lifting the other man's hand from his thigh and squeezing it, before moving away from the crowd.
And then he was in front of me.
"Colin..." He said, drawing out my name in a completely different way to Greg, the word sounding softer, more innocent, yet still completely wonderful. "Third night in a row. Some people would think you don't have a home to go back to." He smiled at me curiously.
"I... uh..." I stuttered, and I was suddenly struck with the realisation I had no reason to be here. I wasn't even sure why I was, just that I had needed to get out of my house, and that some deep urge inside me had bought me here.
I had been drawn in. The room was crowded and noisy, the smoke suffocating, the music pumped up with the bass much too loud, the stools hard and uncomfortable beneath me and there was a sense of sleaze and cheapness surrounding the place. And yet none of it could stop me suddenly wanting to spend time here, and none of it could dampen my feelings about the man in front of me.
Whatever they may be.
"It's all right. I know I inspire stalkers..." He grinned at me to belay his hard words, but still there was a question there that I knew I couldn't answer. "So, how's the wedding plans coming...?" He asked conversationally, kindly, yet I knew he had to suspect something because no one had a bachelor’s party that carried on three nights, not alone anyway, when the party ended on the first one.
"I'm not sure I want to follow through with it." I said quickly.
If he was startled by my blurted confession, he didn't show it. "Why'd you ask her in the first place?" He asked, and there was no malice in his words, simple curiosity.
"I love her." I said without pause, a fact I was quite proud of.
He shrugged at me, as if I'd just answered my own question, but I knew I hadn't. Because I wasn't as certain as I sounded.
"I think." I added quietly.
"Ah." He replied, like he understood something, but I had no clue still. Someone called loudly from over by the stage, and another man moaned, their voices rising above the usual hum of crowd noise. Ryan glanced up, checking for control, yet the men in question were simply having a little too much fun, luckily not at the expense of the girl on stage. The moment should have bought me crashing back to the present, to where I was, yet I still didn't feel odd, continuing my ponderings on marriage in a strip club.
"You ever thought about getting married?" I asked him honestly, partly because I thought he might have some advice, yet partly because I just wanted some insight into him, into who he was.
I knew nothing, nothing substantial, apart from the fact he worked long hours in a run-down dive of a place, showcasing his amazing talent to people who didn't deserve to see it.
I watched him curiously, waiting for his answer.
He didn't say anything, instead he simply chuckled, low and deep, and leant closer to me. I leant towards him too, and for a long second, neither of us said anything, his lips near my cheek, so close I could hear his deep stuttering breaths, husky likely from a combination of smoke and shouting too loud, and I could the warm air every time he exhaled.
After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, he seemed to remember what he was saying. "To who?" He asked me, almost amused.
"Anyone." I replied, trying to keep my voice level and even. "You have your fair share of admirers." My eyes were naturally drawn to Greg, and then I eyed the other girls in the group quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice.
He did, of course.
And he laughed, pulling away, and I missed the closeness already. "I can't really see Proops walking down the isle." He paused, thinking. "Though he could probably carry off the veil if he tried." He added with a smirk, much like the man in question favoured. He had that cloth and ran it through his fingers again, a practised quirk that seemed to satisfy his need to be moving constantly.
I laughed as well, mostly at the visual his words portrayed.
"Neither of you have a straight answer about your relationship you know?" I said pointedly, because the curiosity was killing me and my hints weren't getting me anywhere.
"Straight answer?" He asked, putting emphasis on 'straight' and I rolled my eyes, grinning despite myself.
"You know what I mean."
Ryan shrugged, flexing his shoulder as he did, and my eyes were drawn to the way his muscles twitched beneath his shirt. "Well I can tell you I'm not going to marry him." He said, looking at me, and he knew as well as I did I was avoiding my own situation.
"But you and him...?" I found myself asking, the curiosity seeping into my bones as I found myself unable to keep it at bay any longer.
He didn't say anything, just gave me a little smile. Then he paused and looked at me, leaning close again.
I took a deep breath when I realised he was suddenly only inches away, staring into my eyes as I noticed how green his actually were. We stared at each other, a long moment when I could feel his breath tickle my skin, his lips so close, until he leant forward that extra inch and pressed them against mine.
He kissed me, his large hand cupping my cheek and pulling me close, his tongue slipping past my lips, as his rubbed small circles on my skin. I responded immediately, kissing him back slowly, relishing the feel of him, so different to any other kiss I'd experienced. He was demanding yet gentle, the feel sending fireworks through my body.
Then he pulled back and away, tilting his head at me as he took in deeper than necessary breaths, my skin still tingling from his touch.
"That make you feel better or worse about getting married?" He asked me, licking his lips briefly, his tone completely conversational, like he hadn't just had is tongue in my mouth, like his hands hadn't just left fingerprints on my skin, like I wasn't almost shaking.
I swallowed hard, licking my own lips as I tried to deal with the taste of him that still lingered there.
"Worse." I managed to breathe out, coughing and clearing my throat when my voice came out harsh and husky.
Ryan simply shrugged at me again, as if I'd once more answered my own question.
Then a patron called to him, and, giving me a final smile, he left me there, breathless, with the taste of him still on my lips.
--
Tuesday
They were kissing.
They were devouring each other, bodies pressed tightly together in the dark damp alleyway outside the club as they rubbed against each other, their movements jolty and desperate. They were kissing passionately, the wet sounds mingling with their moans and echoing around.
I tried to back away, leave before they noticed me, but my foot slipped on something, a can, and I tripped, my keys jangling and my feet stamping against the ground as I struggled to stay upright. I managed, but even I could hear how loud I had been, the noise echoing in the darkness.
They heard me, their lips parting and their heads tilting together so they were both facing me. They looked over at me, both panting, hot and flushed, their eyes bright and shiny in the dim light.
Greg raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on his lips despite his obvious breathlessness.
"Well, look who it is. Hi Colin." He murmured, the words a breathy moan, yet he didn't seem to have any problem with what I had just interrupted. I bounced on the spot, backing up a few paces, ready to leave and go... anywhere else.
"Sorry, I..." I started, not sure where I was going with it. I just needed to be away from them, because I had clearly interrupted something.
Greg raised an eyebrow, ready for my explanation for why I was here, but Ryan, who had been simply staring at me, suddenly gave Greg a gentle shove and pulled away from his embrace, his fingers sliding along Greg's hips as he did.
"You all right?" Ryan asked me, concerned and I wished he would tell me to fuck off instead of looking at me like that, taking a step closer.
I backed up, "I'm fine, I just... I was walking, and my feet must've led me here. I'm leaving though. Sorry for interrupting..."
"Trouble in paradise?" Greg asked, his eyebrow raised, and I'm sure my eyes widened. I wasn't sure why they weren't sending me away, I couldn't spill to them my troubles as they stood there, both still flushed and their lips red, especially when part of my problem had involved me doing the exact same thing with Ryan the day before.
I shook my head, though it was obvious it was a lie, and I simply stood, my arms dangling uselessly at me side, my feet scuffing the concrete beneath me.
I bit my lip, and looked down.
"Come with us." Ryan said finally, touching my arm gently as he walked sideways past me towards his car. I shivered, pulling my jacket closer around me, despite the warmth of the air. I followed Ryan, reluctantly, standing a few paces behind him, with Greg doing the same behind me.
We reached his car quickly, a large black boxy vehicle that was dirty and old and had more than a few dents. I eyed it wearily, jumping slightly when Ryan opened the door for both Greg and me. Greg jumped in quickly, the car door creaking as it was slammed. I gave Ryan a look as he waited patiently for me, tilting his head and indicating for me to get in. I did, wondering why I was, and the door slammed behind me, rattling loudly.
My feet clanged against the cans that littered the floor and I found that counting the broken threads in the upholstery served as a wonderful distraction from my racing thoughts.
As the car roared to life, the engine growling like an angry and sick lion, I fiddled with the corner of my coat, cursing myself for leaving my warm bed and taking a walk, knowing deep down inside that I would end up at that club.
Ever since that first night, I had been pulled in, desperate to taste a bit of their life, a world away from my own.
We eventually pulled up outside an old apartment block, black bags and trash cans littering the side walk, a man curled up asleep just outside, a fur coat covering him. I eyed him briefly, but my attention was quickly torn away as I realised that the guys had left the car already.
I caught up with them, tripping over my feet as I followed them inside, leaving behind the sounds of sirens blaring, cars rushing past and a dog barking angrily.
I took a deep breath before I entered the hallway, pleasantly surprised once I did that it didn't smell as bad as I was expecting. I followed them down metal stairs, the harsh sound of our shoes against the steps echoing in the silent entranceway.
I wasn't even sure why I was following them. I didn't know either of them well, and I really should have been at home, curled up with my soon to be wife, miles away from here. Yet somehow, that didn't sound as appealing as it used to.
Greg opened a door and they both went in without waiting for me. I looked up and down the dark corridor, noting the dirty cream paint peeling in the corners, the floor a mismatch of different tiles. I hesitated outside for a second, before stepping gingerly into the apartment, pulling the door shut behind me.
Ryan was already flittering around, switching on the odd lamp and picking up random items that were spread around. He picked up a newspaper, some letters and other odd items, tidying them away and then he grabbed some bottles off the floor and shoved them into a bucket by the door.
The room was oddly appealing, despite it’s external appearance. It was small, a kitchenette on one side, with dark wood cabinets, and a black worktop. A living area in front, with two worn red sofas, each with tears and cigarette burns, yet they had been covered haphazardly with cushions of various colours, making the area seem strangely soft.
There was little else in the room; a trash can on one side with the bucket next to it, filled high with beer and soda bottles. A little brown side-table with an ashtray on it, a small television, balanced precariously on another little brown side-table that was much too small for it.
Three doors led off from the main room, all shut. There was a dining table shoved against one wall, where Ryan had piled the paper's he'd collected up. He'd tossed his keys there too.
There were two photo frames on it, the only personal touch the apartment seem to have, and I looked harder to see that one had the pair of them, clearly at the club, cigarettes in hand, surrounded by gorgeous girls, draped theatrically over them. The other picture seemed soft compared to it, the two of them, with another two men I didn't recognise, arms around each other, smiling happily at the camera, their eyes sparkling.
As I studied the apartment, Greg had relaxed on the sofa, lighting up a cigarette. He was watching me, shooting glances to Ryan, who was over by the kitchen. I turned to look at them, fidgeting on the spot, my hands twitching as I didn't know what to do with them.
Ryan pulled some shot glasses from a cupboard and then filled them with an amber liquid, pouring expertly, making a little show of it.
"Sit." He instructed me, as he walked over, carrying the glasses between long fingers.
I did, sitting on the other sofa, to the side of the one Greg was on. Ryan handed Greg a glass, handing me another, before perching on the end of the Greg's sofa, so he was actually closer to me than the other man.
He clinked his glass gently against Greg's, doing the same to mine, not waiting for me to lift it, and then downed his in one. I followed his lead, as did Greg, and enjoyed the burn as it slipped down my throat.
We sat together in what felt like comfortable silence, yet it couldn't have been, because there was so much unsaid between us.
Ryan rubbed at his lip absently, drawing my attention to it, and I suddenly remembered exactly what I had interrupted.
I stood up quickly, juggling the glass between my hands, almost dropping it. "I should go. I interrupted... I should go." I told them quickly, the words falling out of my mouth as I moved quickly towards the door, not even thinking how I was going to get home.
A firm hand touched my shoulder, the feel of it making me jump and shiver at the same time, and pushed me back down. I put up no resistance, falling back onto the soft sofa. The springs in it had long gone, because it sunk beneath me, enveloping me inside it.
Surprisingly, Greg spoke first, "You didn't interrupt anything. Stiles is just a cock-tease." He said, smirking to himself at the joke.
I coughed on my drink, despite having swallowed it many minutes ago.
"You wish, Proops." Ryan said quietly, shooting him a little smirk, and I was once again completely lost.
"You know, it's not even the weekend." I told them, because it was the only thing my mouth seemed to be able to say, and I let out what seemed to me as an almost hysterical laugh.
What the fuck was I doing here?
Greg snorted, and Ryan chuckled and the sound merged, much like they seemed to do. Then the silence settled and I just sat, staring into the air, my thoughts a mess that was jumbling together in my mind.
"I'm fucking tired man." Greg said eventually, his eyes glazing over and I realised that maybe it wasn't a cigarette he was smoking. He stood up quickly, wobbling slightly yet remaining graceful and still I wasn't sure how I hadn't noticed that he wasn't completely with us.
He leant over and gave Ryan a quick kiss on the lips, much like I how I would kiss my fiancée, yet it seemed chaste compared to what I had seen of them before.
Before I realised what he was doing, he did the same to me, kissing me on the lips briefly. I couldn't help comparing it to how Ryan had kissed me, and it was completely different, too quick to take in, and yet still so different to anything I was used to, especially from a friend.
He let out a yawn.
"Keep the noise down if you fuck, eh?" He mumbled as he left, running a hand through his hair making it stand up even more, before disappearing through one of the doors, pushing it shut behind him. I watched him go.
After a moment, Ryan moved off the sofa and settled down next to me, turning sideways so I was his full attention. "So, what brought you to wandering the streets and three am when I know you have a bed to go home to?"
I wanted to ask him just how he knew that, but I didn't, instead I found myself talking to him, letting it spill how nervous I was about the wedding, how since I had stepped into that awful bar, I hadn't been able to get him out of my mind, and how I wasn't sure of who I was any more. The words flowed easily and I felt myself relaxing in his company.
He listened, and he kissed me, just one or twice, softly and not misleading, simply comfort.
And the whole time he had his hand on my arm, or on my knee, constantly touching me, and I wondered how I had ever done without the feel of him there.
-
Wednesday
I had nowhere else to go. That was my excuse for why I was once again entering the smoky bar, the music now familiar, washing over me in a comforting way, despite the heavy beat rattling me to my core.
Brad was on a business trip, god only knows where, and I had no other confidants, everyone else more like acquaintances than friends, those that you talk to but wouldn't share with.
I was blissfully ignoring the fact that usually, if I ever fought with her, I'd simply spend some time alone, at the park or walking through the city.
Still, I was here now. And this wasn't about him.
I simply needed to think, and not be alone. It had nothing to do with the fact that I could still feel my body tingle from where had touched me the night before, that I could still feel his lips against my cheek as he kissed it before dropping me home to change for work. Nothing to do with the fact that I could still see him drive away as I stood watching him go; completely unaware I was being stared at myself, from the window.
She hadn't believed me, when I said he was just a friend. She had been quick to assume I had cheated with him, too quick, which made me doubt even more the state of our relationship, and whether we really should be getting married.
"Hello sexy," A voice said, interrupting my thoughts, and I realised I had walked over to the bar. Behind it stood Greg, pouring beer from a tap, a shiny pattern on his black shirt glinting in the spotlights. His eyes were twinkling, and he was serving a customer with that practised grace, his eyes alert and sparkling, quite different to how he had been last night.
I smiled at him, but couldn't help my eyes wandering around the bar. It was Greg's night to perform if I was following the every other day deal, and so Ryan should have been behind the bar.
"Our little stud is off tonight," Greg told me, clearly noticing, and I wanted to protest to say that I wasn't really looking for him, that I didn't really mind.
Except I had been, and I did.
"Oh." I muttered, failing to hide my disappointment and knowing it. I bit my lip, sitting down on my stool, the one I had come to favour, and leaning against the bar.
Greg laughed, and I felt embarrassed by how needy I sounded, my cheeks turning pink once more.
What was happening to me?
"Whipped already eh? And yet I didn't hear anything last night..." He said, raising his eyebrows in a question, his smirk firmly in place.
My eyes widened. "We didn't..." I mumbled, biting my lip again and rolling my eyes at how pathetic I was sounding. I felt like fifteen year old with a crush; trying to casually bump into them and blushing any time anyone else mentioned them.
Greg laughed again, his eyes twinkling as he placed a glass of my usual in front of me, bending over the bar in a similar way to how Ryan usually did.
"Well okay then." He said, yet he was kind enough to not sound too sarcastic and I mentally thanked him for it. I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, as I was still uncertain about their own relationship.
Despite everything, I was inexplicably drawn to Greg as well, and I just wanted to know more.
He lit up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke slowly, briefly closing his eyes with a look of ecstasy on his face.
When he opened them, he stared at me for a long moment, casually offering me a drag. I took it. I only smoked occasionally, rarely indulging, yet I savoured the taste, it feeling warm and familiar.
When I handed it back to him, reluctantly, he took it once more, but before taking a drag, he spoke, his voice hushed.
"You know, Colin." He was drawing out my name again, making it sound dirty and sexual and I knew that I'd now forever hear it that way. "You've got Ryan acting like a lovesick puppy."
My eyes widened again, and I forgot to breathe for too long, my lungs clenching in my chest. "What?"
Greg smiled languidly, "Oh, he hides it well. But I know the signs. Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind." Which actually came as a surprise to me, but then everything did here. I still hadn't quite figured things out between them, still didn't understand why one moment they were pressed together, panting and grinding and kissing messily, and the next they were ready to convince the world they were just friends. I didn't understand, but I was starting to think that maybe I never would.
This though, what Greg was saying about Ryan, that I did need to understand.
"But, last I heard you were getting married." Greg continued, unaware of my inner turmoil and confusion. I tuned in and I quickly became aware of what he was actually saying.
He was asking my intentions with Ryan.
It was almost funny, and I let out one of those little hysterical laughs I was beginning to favour.
Until the realisation of it all suck in and the laugh turned into a choked sob. How had everything got so screwed up all of a sudden? My wife-to-be wasn't even talking to me any more, and deep down I really wasn't caring as much as I should have been, the pain dull rather than sharp like it should be. I had spent the night talking and laughing with another man and the thought of her hadn't even crossed my mind.
I was feeling more comfortable in a dark dingy bar than I was in my office, and I was drawn to the man in front of me, a little child inside of me screaming 'be my friend', like a geek feels about the 'cool kid' at their school.
And that wasn't even mentioning the man I had spent the night with, the man that since I had seen him, I felt like I had found a part of me that was missing.
The man that was making me think horribly sappy things like that, and not even caring.
Fuck.
Greg was watching me and I was sure I'd probably just put on a wonderful display of mixed emotions, each flashing across my face randomly, like fireworks going off.
"Clock's ticking, Colin." Greg said suddenly, his slow drawn out tone a complete contrast to the urgency of his words. "You can't be coming here once you are a married man."
Which may not be a problem, I realised, as I downed my drink.
-
Thursday
I was mesmerised, staring at the stage, much like the other men had been, not ten minutes before.
But instead of writhing girls, dancing together, intoxicating the men with their sex appeal, I was drawn to the two guys on stage, microphones in their hands, each with a loose tie around their neck and black button-down shirts, performing in a completely different way.
This wasn't stand-up, however similar to their individual skits, it was something different, something exciting and it was drawing the attention of many more onlookers. I got the impression that tonight, not everyone was here to see the girls.
The tone in the club was different somehow, instead of impatient murmurs and rowdy patrons, the men in the bar were watching the stage with an almost respectful quietness. Not everyone was interested of course, and they still got the occasional cry for the women to return, but with that, there were also many people seemingly rooting for them.
They were performing, making things up, asking random people for odd suggestions and coming up with scenes. It wasn't a refined act, it was spontaneous and messy and more than a little vulgar, as they screwed things up, and riled up the audience, begging for suggestions, yet criticising most of them, and the people who called them out. At the base of it, however, I could see the pure talent oozing from them, their performance pulling laughs from even reluctant watchers.
I was drawn to them even more, curious about just what they were doing, about how this had even come about.
It was an odd act, like nothing I had seen, and the rawness of it, the fact that they were taking completely random suggestions, making things up as they went along, calling for an urgency to the act, and quick thinking to boot, made me respect them immensely.
I found myself rooting for them also, hoping they would get laughs, feeling elated when they did.
I felt a pull, and I wondered for the first time ever, what it was like to be up there, on stage. The idea terrified me, yet there was something deep inside of me that was drawn to it.
I wondered if I could've ever done that, if I had chosen a different path, somewhere along the way, if my life would've ever been like this, like theirs.
I wondered why I suddenly wished it was.
-
Greg eyed me warily when he first saw me, before giving me the usual smile. Neither of them seemed all that surprised I was there again, greeting me friendlily, as Ryan set about pouring me a drink without even asking.
He was bouncing around behind the bar like a hyperactive puppy, on some kind of high from his performance I guessed. Greg was calmer and seemed tired more than anything else, leaning against the bar casually and I was sure he was putting most, if not all, of his weight onto it.
Smiling at me sleepily, Greg gave me a pointed look, trying to tell me something. He glanced at Ryan, and at me, and I wasn't sure what he was insinuating, but I couldn't help but think that maybe it was better if I didn't try to work it out.
"So, Col, what'd you think?" Ryan asked, interrupting whatever silent conversation Greg was trying to have with me. He placed a drink down in front of me, and then casually stole the cigarette Greg had just lit up, not bothering to pass it back when he took a drag.
Greg lit up another one and watched us, and I felt my whole body tense under his view.
I became acutely aware of every move I made, the way I smiled widely at Ryan as he spoke, the way I looked him up and down, checking him out without even realising it and the way I leant closer to him as he spoke, even though I could hear him clearly. I was aware, and yet I couldn't stop myself, as I became drawn to him.
Fuck.
Ryan was smiling at me, that smile that took over his face and crinkled up his eyes, highlighting his cheekbones, and he looked away shyly, some inbuilt reflex from working on stage, to hide his own laughter.
And I was completely mesmerised by him.
We talked, quiet words as I raved about the performance, tried to make him smile shyly again, tried to make him laugh again, loving the sound of it when I did.
At one point, Greg leant over him, whispering something in Ryan's ear that made him blush and lean back a little, hitting him lightly in the stomach. Greg laughed, his hand touching Ryan's neck casually, a tender gesture, one of those moments that just added more layers to their complex relationship.
Then Greg disappeared, running his hand over my back as he walked past, causing me to shiver under his touch, his fingers tickling my skin.
Ryan called after him, "Love you too," the words almost sarcastic, yet there wasn't a doubt in my mind that they weren't completely sincere. And somewhere in me I thought that maybe I could be jealous, but the feeling was squashed as I realised the only thing I was jealous of, was that Ryan wasn't saying the words to me as well.
I also realised, dauntingly, that I hadn't once thought of my fiancée since I stepped through the door.
-
Friday
"Don't you have a wedding tomorrow? Beauty sleep and all that." Greg asked me, when once again I found myself sat at that bar. The stool beneath me felt like mine now, and I wondered if I should write my name on it.
The idea that I had spent almost the past week in a strip club didn't bother me as it should. In fact, I felt like someone else when I was there, this new life, a new me.
"Wedding's off. And my relationship is over." I said, and I felt the usual tinges of dull pain inside me at the thought. I really had loved her, in a certain way, but something had happened to me this week, something that had changed me, bought out different parts of me, and highlighted all the problems in the relationship I had been ignoring.
People get married for a lot of reasons, and somewhere along the way, I had picked the wrong ones.
"Sorry." Greg said, yet he sounded anything but. He sounded relieved, which, out of every emotion, wasn't one I was expecting. "So, planning on making home with Stiles?" He said casually.
I choked on my drink.
I shouldn't have been so surprised, I could admit the thought had crossed my mind, fleetingly, yet I had dismissed it as a crazy dream, and a step to fast. I had never even been in a relationship with a man, and a week ago, I would've thought anyone crazy to even suggest I would want to be. So from that, to ending up with a man, even if he was a wonderfully fascinating man that I hadn't been able to get out of my mind...
"But you and him..." I said, because it was still there, a little nagging voice that was moaning that it was confused. They had a relationship, their own special very confusing relationship, that I couldn't disrupt, and wouldn't want to.
"Aren't anything like that. I love him, and I'll fuck him in a heartbeat, but it's not..." He paused, and I realised somewhere, that maybe I wasn't the only one that couldn't understand their relationship, that maybe neither of them really knew what it was they shared. "We're close. That bother you?"
I shook my head quickly, because it didn't. In fact, it had been what had drawn me to them.
It was bizarre and much too quick, my whole life changing in a heartbeat, just because Brad had decided to drag me out to a strip club I didn't want to go to, for a party I didn't want to have. "I can't believe I'm even thinking all this."
I didn't know I had muttered the statement aloud, until Greg smiled at me, tilting his head.
"Told you." He whispered, just in time for the lighting to change, the heavy beat of the music lower to almost nothing, and the spotlight to shine on Ryan on the stage.
We both turned to watch him perform.
Somehow, despite the bright light on him, and the darkness of the bar, he saw me, and met my eyes. Tilting his head at me, he paused just briefly in whatever joke he was telling. I smiled at him, and his own smile widened just for a second, and then he returned to his performance.
Greg watched the tiny exchange, saw the goofy grin that I knew I had but that I couldn't wipe away, and shook his head.
Then he slid something across the bar to me.
"Better make a copy." He murmured, and then turned his eyes back to the stage, a proud smile coming over his own face, as I picked up the object he'd passed me.
The pleasant sounds of Ryan's voice slid over me, laugher from the crowd filling the bar, and I found myself smiling once again, as I stared at the silver key in my hand.