'One Week'. Ry/Col/...Greg? Fic. Part One.
Right-o. Here is my kinda random fic! :)
I'm going to post it here, in three parts (because its too long for just one post!) and then I'm going to make a post with the links to each part in the communities I'm in, because otherwise I'm going to be spamming all over the place (I'm still going to clog up your friends pages this way, but I'm really sorry!)! I'll try do it all tonight though, because really I just want to get this posted!
Title: One Week.
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! :)
And I <3 feedback so very much. Whatever you have to say! :)
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.
-
I'm going to post it here, in three parts (because its too long for just one post!) and then I'm going to make a post with the links to each part in the communities I'm in, because otherwise I'm going to be spamming all over the place (I'm still going to clog up your friends pages this way, but I'm really sorry!)! I'll try do it all tonight though, because really I just want to get this posted!
Title: One Week.
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! :)
And I <3 feedback so very much. Whatever you have to say! :)
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.
-