CHAPTER 3. NOT AGAIN

Stacie ended her pole dancing with a split, gaining a rousing cheer from the audience.

It was a large audience that consisted more of men. Most of them were businessmen. Men of elegance and grace. El-Sol was the biggest nightclub in California and it hosts the most prominent of men with its fine services. Services like the one Stacie was rendering on the podium which was exquisitely illuminated by neon lights.

Stacie gave a bow, making her brown hair cascade freely to her face. She was scantily dressed. Thin lace around her boobs. Pink-laced panties. A six-inches stiletto boots. Quite an arousing sight, alright.

Another loud cheer and whistling filled El-Sol. Stacie was quite the professional who knew just how to work her way into everyone's hearts.

She disappeared through the curtains into the fitting room. 

Her sultriness was gone and instantly replaced by her usual, sad look.

The curtains opened, revealing a smiling, Madam Rosanna.

“What a commotion you created out there, sweetie.  The men are in a frenzy, paying as much money as they can just for a night with you.“

Stacie slid up her denim pants, which were stylishly ripped at the knees. “Gee...what a pity you're gonna have to return it all.“

The smile on Madam Rosanna's face vanished. “Again? Come on, you need to stop wasting opportunities. Those men out there are willing to pay whatever just for a night. One night, that's all they ask.“

Madam Rosanna was a 42-years old but younger-looking woman who ran El-sol. She was Spanish, red-haired, and a beauty.

“I'm sorry, Madam Rosanna. But I'd rather shack-up with an imbecile than pleasure any of those men out there.“ Stacie was changed into her casual clothes and ready to leave.

Madam Rosanna held her hand in an angry grip. “What's your problem, Stacie? You're a stripper. Whatever dignity you're trying to protect doesn't exist. You sold them all, twirling around a pole!“

Stacie jerked away her hand from the tight hold. “You've got no fucking idea.“ With that, she ran off through the back door into the dark street of California.

*******

“What's with your getup?“ Arthur asked in amusement, sliding into a seat opposite Richard's.

Richard removed his dark shades, tugging his cap closer to his eyes.

“I don't wanna be recognized.“

Arthur nodded, but his lips were still curled-up in smiles. “Is that why you chose a table at this secluded corner?“

“As I said, I don't wanna be recognized.“ Richard hissed. “This coffee shop happens to be my hideout now.“

Arthur nodded. The amusement was gone. It's been hell for him too, so he understood Richard's plight. The news of them being lovers had spread around the city like wildfire.  His apartment's elevators were hijacked by the press and paparazzi. They were hellbent on getting a statement from him. His privacy was gone. It almost drove him insane.

“It's been one week, man. One week of living in hell.“ Richard whined. “You know what's worse?“

“Tell me.“

“I've not had a release for the past week. The ladies won't let me into their coochie 'cause they think I'm not a real man. Terrible, bro.“ Richard winced.

“I've not had a release for ages. It's not as bad as you make it seem.“ Austin said casually, sipping at his coffee.

“It is bad, and it's gonna stop tonight. You and I, we'll be hitting a nightclub.“

“Nah. I think I'll pass.“

“Really?“ Richard shook his head in disbelief. “Arthur, haven't you been humiliated enough?“

“Whoever said I've been humiliated? Arthur adjusted on his seat, maintaining his authoritative poise.

“Right. So what was it you felt when the Japanese recommended a good chapel we could get married at?“ 

Arthur's shoulders sank low in defeat. The meeting with the Japanese had taken off on the wrong foot and ended worse.

The men had heard about their 'supposed' love life and thought it wise to counsel them. The meeting turned into counseling and they couldn't even come clean that they weren't gays. It seems the Japanese loved it more if they were truly gays. Probably because one of them was extremely 'comfortable' with the males and had a girlish step.

Now Arthur couldn't look his subordinates in the eyes. They all had this laughter hidden within.

“Still, going to a nightclub is not something I'd gladly do.“ Arthur said.

“No one said you had to gladly do it. You can always grumpily do it, but just do it. “

“What's your plan?“ Arthur knew Richard for his frivolities. This plan of his would not be any different.

“It's easy. We go in there, bang all the ladies. Make a video of it. Give it to the press. Problem solved.“

“I've always known you were crazy but I never thought it was this serious.“ Arthur was distracted by the beep from his phone. He checked the message. It was from Ursula. *Coming to make you straight tonight.*

“....I'd rather be seen as a pornstar than as a gay.“ Richard ended his rambling.

“Uh...can you go into more details about hitting a nightclub? I just might be interested now.“ Arthur was in a dilemma. But he'd rather be in a nightclub than be subjected to Ursula's silliness.

“You should be.“ Richard grinned. “It's for our good. We can't live another day in this agony.“

“Agreed. So what exactly is your plan?“ Arthur inquired unenthusiastically.

Richard took on another rambling session. Arthur nodded with fake interest but completely tuned out at the voice.

It was faint but loud enough to invade his being. At first, he thought it was his imagination. But it continued and it felt so real.

Without a second thought, he stood up, racing to the main area of the coffee shop. Everyone was seated in their corners. The counter had just the workers behind it.

But the door...it was ajar. Someone just left.

He raced out of the coffee shop but there was no one. Well, there were a thousand passersby but no one looked like they owned that voice. 

But God, it felt so real. Like Stacie had just been in the coffee shop. Or was it just imagination?

Arthur was perplexed. How long was he gonna run through doors chasing after any voice that sounded similar to Stacie's?

“How much longer?!“ Arthur yelled in agony, going on his knees. He was weak. Tired. Broken.