Fic: Wednesday Night
title: Wednesday Night
pairing: unnamed, but it's implied Billy/Dom
rating: let's say... R
warning: AU, told in first person, Billy's POV
summary: Billy's thoughts on an encounter at a strip club
a/n: I'm currently writing the 'what happened at the strip club' fic, and this was meant to be the sequel, but the more I read it, the more I think it'll work fine with the other one as a kind of flashback-sequel. Also, this is something I turned in for my writing class (without this bit of explanation, though), for the Facade prompt.
There’s a difference between lying and manipulating situations to one’s own advantage. I’m still considered “the new guy” at the office; I can’t afford any blemishes on my… rap sheet, so to speak. It’s not like I’ll really be lying to anyone who asks. I will tell the truth. There can be more than one version of the truth, and if our versions differ, who are the cops going to believe? Me, a department manager, or a sleazy club dancer? Even so, it’s probably best I run through my story, just in case, like.
It was force of habit that led me into the club, nothing more. I’d never even been there before, but I knew the routine by rote. I hadn’t even heard-well, I’d known of the place, of course; I had a list of local strip clubs in the bottom of the second drawer on the left in my desk, under a stapled pamphlet about the company, and filed with my employees resumes and contact information. Some of the clubs were places that I might need in order to wine and dine my superiors. Well, not wine and dine, obviously, but, y’know, impress, I suppose.
I didn’t make a plan to go there, and I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular when I did go. I didn’t even look at the list in my desk, because I had memorized the names and locations of the clubs simply by reviewing the it so often. Anyway, as I said, I’d never been there before, so… A newcomer could be forgiven for breaking the rules, right? I’ve seen that happen before. I’ll plead ignorance and everybody’ll back off a bit. It wasn’t like I knew, really, what I was doing there in the first place. I hadn’t meant to go, and I certainly didn’t want to. It’s not my kind of place. None of them are, these clubs.
I didn’t find it relaxing, either, as you’re supposed to. I never have, and I can’t understand why people do relax there. It just creates more tension, in my mind. All those men and women wearing almost nothing and dancing-how is one supposed to relax? I suppose once I’d had a few drinks, though, that’s when it was alright. But I drove myself, so I didn’t drink. Not much, anyway. I didn’t need to, I was already relaxed before I went in. When I went inside, that’s when I tensed up. As I said, those kinds of places just aren’t conducive to… relaxation. They’re not quiet, certainly, and who the hell can see anything clearly through those bloody lights?
Not me, anyway, I’m too old for that sort of thing. Which, again, brings me back to why I went there in the first place. As I said, I don’t really know for sure what drove me there. I needed a drink, so what did I do? I went out for a bloody drink. I was probably preoccupied with thoughts of my number one boss from hell, and that’s why I went to the club. He took me to a similarly seedy club when he and I met in New York. Or Chicago, I don’t remember. I was drunk that night. Had to be to deal with him. Which is, as I said, why I needed a drink that night. I didn’t take a taxi home, no, but I wasn’t off-my-head drunk. I doubt I was over the legal limit, really.
It’s not like I’d known what the place was going to be like, and trust me, I wouldn’t have broken any rules if I’d gone-known, I should say, what the etiquette was. Still is, I suppose would be proper, as the place is still in business. It was only last Wednesday that I went. I don’t know what happened with him after I left, though, and I haven’t heard. I doubt he’ll try to contact me or anything. Can’t see why he would, really. And if he told anyone else, it would just be a lie, I’m sure. But this is the truth.
He was the one with all the ideas, all the determination. I may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean I can’t remember what happened, trust me on that. Nothing like what I was expecting, what he did. I wasn’t expecting anything in particular, actually, because I’d never gone there to watch a man before, but as I said, I’d been to multitudes of similar establishments in recent years, as I’ve moved up through the company, and that sort of thing… it’s just not done.
I’m a “higher-up” now, and quite proud of it. Y’know, I started in this business as a sales rep? That didn’t last long; before I could even consider myself part of the group with my co-workers, I’d moved up and been transferred to headquarters, and from then on, it just didn’t stop. Now I take around the big-dollar clients and the bloody company president, can you believe that? I hardly can, some nights, but that particular night I was feeling pretty bloody important. That’s probably what drove me there, come to think of it, because as I said, those big CEO and president types, they’re the ones that enjoy those kinds of clubs, so I was just, kind of… emulating them, like.
They’re manipulative bastards, though; I don’t think I have that in me. I don’t think I can, really and truly, I don’t. I’d never manipulate people less fortunate than myself, which is pretty much everyone. But really, I’m just not that kind of person. Not even when drunk, which I wasn’t that night. I’d only had a bit-Okay, well, kind of a lot, actually, enough to dull pretty much all of my senses, but not enough to-I’m just not like that, and I don’t think most people would take any kind of manipulative crap from me. I’m not the type, and anyone looking at me knows it. That dancer, he certainly figured it out pretty quick.
I’m more the type to be taken advantage of, really, because people think they can tell what my limits are with morals and such, just by looking at me, as I said. It’s not my fault I look much friendlier than I actually am. I’m generally a cheerful, trusting person, on the outside, and people probably take advantage of that without me realizing. Other people, yeah, they’re twisting words around left and right. Not me, though. That dancer, he’ll twist everything I say, I know he will. But he’s the guilty one here, not me. Not me.
Sometimes you can tell, in their faces, y’know? You can see when someone wants something, and when they’ll do anything to get it. People like that are dangerous, and I do my best to avoid them, when I can. They just get worse once you let your guard down, too, y’know? Once they’ve stripped away your defenses, they move in like bloody vultures, just taking what they want from you, without ever a thought to the consequences.
That night, I thought of the consequences, but I didn’t have any control, so it’s all on him, now. But manipulative bastards like that-and he is one, I can tell-they look out for themselves only, so… I guess I probably won’t be bothered. As I said, I’m a powerful sort of guy, now, with the suits and ties and everything. Bloody six-figure salary, and that’s no joke. He won’t cause trouble with me, because, manipulative and clever as he is, he knows better than that. I’d better bloody hope he knows better, because God, no one will ever believe this story, will they? This probably happens all the time between businessmen and strip club dancers. It’s not like I suggested we… It was him that came on to me, really, it was, I could’ve sworn it was. I’d already paid for the dance, and it was stupid of me to even let it mean that much, but… God, his skin just shone and glistened, and really, who would’ve resisted a boy like that? Especially as willing as he was.
It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, though, right? Probably for the best, that. It would just cause more trouble, I would think. I’ll probably end up going back to the club, though, with the bosses next time, and he’ll be there, he’ll see me, surrounded by other men in suits and half-naked women. He’ll understand, I think, and I won’t say anything, I won’t let on that I know him. He’s clever, he’ll understand, and he should know not to try to get involved with me again. He should know not to cause any trouble. I hope to God he knows.
pairing: unnamed, but it's implied Billy/Dom
rating: let's say... R
warning: AU, told in first person, Billy's POV
summary: Billy's thoughts on an encounter at a strip club
a/n: I'm currently writing the 'what happened at the strip club' fic, and this was meant to be the sequel, but the more I read it, the more I think it'll work fine with the other one as a kind of flashback-sequel. Also, this is something I turned in for my writing class (without this bit of explanation, though), for the Facade prompt.
There’s a difference between lying and manipulating situations to one’s own advantage. I’m still considered “the new guy” at the office; I can’t afford any blemishes on my… rap sheet, so to speak. It’s not like I’ll really be lying to anyone who asks. I will tell the truth. There can be more than one version of the truth, and if our versions differ, who are the cops going to believe? Me, a department manager, or a sleazy club dancer? Even so, it’s probably best I run through my story, just in case, like.
It was force of habit that led me into the club, nothing more. I’d never even been there before, but I knew the routine by rote. I hadn’t even heard-well, I’d known of the place, of course; I had a list of local strip clubs in the bottom of the second drawer on the left in my desk, under a stapled pamphlet about the company, and filed with my employees resumes and contact information. Some of the clubs were places that I might need in order to wine and dine my superiors. Well, not wine and dine, obviously, but, y’know, impress, I suppose.
I didn’t make a plan to go there, and I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular when I did go. I didn’t even look at the list in my desk, because I had memorized the names and locations of the clubs simply by reviewing the it so often. Anyway, as I said, I’d never been there before, so… A newcomer could be forgiven for breaking the rules, right? I’ve seen that happen before. I’ll plead ignorance and everybody’ll back off a bit. It wasn’t like I knew, really, what I was doing there in the first place. I hadn’t meant to go, and I certainly didn’t want to. It’s not my kind of place. None of them are, these clubs.
I didn’t find it relaxing, either, as you’re supposed to. I never have, and I can’t understand why people do relax there. It just creates more tension, in my mind. All those men and women wearing almost nothing and dancing-how is one supposed to relax? I suppose once I’d had a few drinks, though, that’s when it was alright. But I drove myself, so I didn’t drink. Not much, anyway. I didn’t need to, I was already relaxed before I went in. When I went inside, that’s when I tensed up. As I said, those kinds of places just aren’t conducive to… relaxation. They’re not quiet, certainly, and who the hell can see anything clearly through those bloody lights?
Not me, anyway, I’m too old for that sort of thing. Which, again, brings me back to why I went there in the first place. As I said, I don’t really know for sure what drove me there. I needed a drink, so what did I do? I went out for a bloody drink. I was probably preoccupied with thoughts of my number one boss from hell, and that’s why I went to the club. He took me to a similarly seedy club when he and I met in New York. Or Chicago, I don’t remember. I was drunk that night. Had to be to deal with him. Which is, as I said, why I needed a drink that night. I didn’t take a taxi home, no, but I wasn’t off-my-head drunk. I doubt I was over the legal limit, really.
It’s not like I’d known what the place was going to be like, and trust me, I wouldn’t have broken any rules if I’d gone-known, I should say, what the etiquette was. Still is, I suppose would be proper, as the place is still in business. It was only last Wednesday that I went. I don’t know what happened with him after I left, though, and I haven’t heard. I doubt he’ll try to contact me or anything. Can’t see why he would, really. And if he told anyone else, it would just be a lie, I’m sure. But this is the truth.
He was the one with all the ideas, all the determination. I may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean I can’t remember what happened, trust me on that. Nothing like what I was expecting, what he did. I wasn’t expecting anything in particular, actually, because I’d never gone there to watch a man before, but as I said, I’d been to multitudes of similar establishments in recent years, as I’ve moved up through the company, and that sort of thing… it’s just not done.
I’m a “higher-up” now, and quite proud of it. Y’know, I started in this business as a sales rep? That didn’t last long; before I could even consider myself part of the group with my co-workers, I’d moved up and been transferred to headquarters, and from then on, it just didn’t stop. Now I take around the big-dollar clients and the bloody company president, can you believe that? I hardly can, some nights, but that particular night I was feeling pretty bloody important. That’s probably what drove me there, come to think of it, because as I said, those big CEO and president types, they’re the ones that enjoy those kinds of clubs, so I was just, kind of… emulating them, like.
They’re manipulative bastards, though; I don’t think I have that in me. I don’t think I can, really and truly, I don’t. I’d never manipulate people less fortunate than myself, which is pretty much everyone. But really, I’m just not that kind of person. Not even when drunk, which I wasn’t that night. I’d only had a bit-Okay, well, kind of a lot, actually, enough to dull pretty much all of my senses, but not enough to-I’m just not like that, and I don’t think most people would take any kind of manipulative crap from me. I’m not the type, and anyone looking at me knows it. That dancer, he certainly figured it out pretty quick.
I’m more the type to be taken advantage of, really, because people think they can tell what my limits are with morals and such, just by looking at me, as I said. It’s not my fault I look much friendlier than I actually am. I’m generally a cheerful, trusting person, on the outside, and people probably take advantage of that without me realizing. Other people, yeah, they’re twisting words around left and right. Not me, though. That dancer, he’ll twist everything I say, I know he will. But he’s the guilty one here, not me. Not me.
Sometimes you can tell, in their faces, y’know? You can see when someone wants something, and when they’ll do anything to get it. People like that are dangerous, and I do my best to avoid them, when I can. They just get worse once you let your guard down, too, y’know? Once they’ve stripped away your defenses, they move in like bloody vultures, just taking what they want from you, without ever a thought to the consequences.
That night, I thought of the consequences, but I didn’t have any control, so it’s all on him, now. But manipulative bastards like that-and he is one, I can tell-they look out for themselves only, so… I guess I probably won’t be bothered. As I said, I’m a powerful sort of guy, now, with the suits and ties and everything. Bloody six-figure salary, and that’s no joke. He won’t cause trouble with me, because, manipulative and clever as he is, he knows better than that. I’d better bloody hope he knows better, because God, no one will ever believe this story, will they? This probably happens all the time between businessmen and strip club dancers. It’s not like I suggested we… It was him that came on to me, really, it was, I could’ve sworn it was. I’d already paid for the dance, and it was stupid of me to even let it mean that much, but… God, his skin just shone and glistened, and really, who would’ve resisted a boy like that? Especially as willing as he was.
It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, though, right? Probably for the best, that. It would just cause more trouble, I would think. I’ll probably end up going back to the club, though, with the bosses next time, and he’ll be there, he’ll see me, surrounded by other men in suits and half-naked women. He’ll understand, I think, and I won’t say anything, I won’t let on that I know him. He’s clever, he’ll understand, and he should know not to try to get involved with me again. He should know not to cause any trouble. I hope to God he knows.