Dating Rules And Pretty Fools Ch. 06

Chapter Six -- A List of Things You're Not Allowed

The drink was odd but pleasant, and Otis had to do his damnedest not to gulp it down. It wasn't nice to gulp down your drink or gobble down your food, his grandma had taught him, and now, he was in the company of interesting people, who knew a thing or two about how to drink alcohol the polite way. After moistening his lips in the pink drink for a moment and then licking them slowly, as he noticed Missy doing, he needed to find the best words to thank Utah for the treat.

"I am very much grateful," he said after he took another small sip from his glass. Something of how that cocktail was made caused him to giggle, and somehow, he believed that wouldn't be too nice.

"Do you come from one of those communities?" Utah asked him, leaning over the bar again, and looking him in the eye. "Where they churn butter all day and read the Bible?"

"I thought so, too, at first," Missy intervened. "But no, he's just one very polite guy," she explained.

"My grandmother raised me like this," Otis added, not willing to hide a thing from the people who wanted to get to know him better. "She taught me everything."

"Did she teach you how to dress, as well?" Utah asked with a smirk. "That explains a thing or two."

Missy scoffed. "Hey, man, don't be an ass. Otis is pretty sensitive about his looks."

He didn't feel insulted. "Yes, she taught me how to dress. She always said that a man should present himself as someone responsible, on whom people can count. And that his clothes must reflect that."

"Actually," Utah said, getting closer and resting his chin on one palm, "I like you like this a lot. I could use a responsible man, on whom I can count." For some reason, he mimicked his words with a large smile, as if they were a cause for amusement.

There was so much for him to learn, Otis decided, and this outing in the real world was proving to be a bit scary, but also exciting and filled with opportunities. Also, he was abiding by Hudson's advice not to date until he knew everything there was to know about finding a proper boyfriend.

Utah startled him by gently touching his cheek, his long fingers smooth and pleasant against his skin, just like the drink he was having. He didn't pull away, however, and stared with renewed curiosity at the bartender. "Damn, you're really pretty," Utah said slowly. "Do you have a phone number?"

"Yes, I do," Otis replied firmly. Everyone had a phone these days and a phone number to come with it. That was a strange question.

"Utah!" someone called from his right, causing the bartender to straighten up and his smile to fade.

That same someone slammed one hand on the bar in front of Otis, startling him further. He looked up and found himself face to face with a young man with spiky pink hair and an eyebrow piercing. His eyes were heavily lined with black, as were his lips. "Who's this weirdo?" he asked, pushing himself into Otis's face, making him lean back, which was hard on that kind of stool.

"Babe, quit it," Utah said and pulled the strange young man away. He didn't have all that upper body strength for nothing because it seemed easy for him to drag the newcomer halfway across the bar between them and then kiss him hard on the lips.

Otis felt funny looking at them, so he moved his eyes away. Missy leaned toward him. "Uh, I think our Utah here's a bit of a player. Watch out for his kind, Otis. It looks like he has a boyfriend."

Of course. That explained the kiss. They were boyfriends and boyfriends kissed, although he and Hudson kissed, too, and they weren't that. However, it was perfectly explainable in their case, too, since Hudson was teaching him about dating men. Between seeing two men kissing each other so freely and remembering about his neighbor's firm lips on his, he was starting to feel a bit funny. It was a pleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, but also a bit too ticklish. He didn't know if he'd start laughing or get really queasy.

Utah finally let go of his boyfriend, and the heavily made-up face turned toward him once more. "Beat it, fugly," he said from the tip of his lips.

Otis recoiled at the word. He didn't know many things, but he knew when he was called that, regardless of the variations of it. Heat rose to his cheeks and his right hand began trembling. He needed to get away from there. At that very moment, just as he was about to bolt, Missy reached for him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "Hey, who are you calling that, drama queen?" she yelled at the bartender's boyfriend. Then, she turned toward him. "He's obviously jelly as fuck."

"Am not," the guy replied, putting his hands on his hips. "This little hussy's obviously a homewrecker."

That wasn't fair. He had never wrecked anything... except a few cups and plates when he was still struggling with coordination issues. He put his hands between his knees and hunched his shoulders. He couldn't run while Missy was still holding him like that. There was warmth coming from her and it took the edge off what he was feeling inside.

The bartender laughed. "Don't mind Danny, Otis. He is jelly."

He didn't dare to look up, but maybe he needed to, because everyone else fell silent, and they were probably expecting him to talk. "It is fine," he said slowly, not knowing if it were the right thing to say under the circumstances.

"Of course, I'm jealous," Danny said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're the one flirting with every new cute face in the house."

"That's because you just assumed we were in an open relationship without asking first," Utah said. Otis looked at him only to notice the playful smirk on his lips. How could he be so laidback given all the drama unfolding? "Payback's a bitch, darling."

Danny huffed and turned his back to Utah. He did look over his shoulder, though. "I changed my mind."

The bartender seemed unimpressed with that statement. However, his smirk turned into an affectionate smile as he grabbed Danny by the shoulder and squeezed. "What's your poison tonight?"

Otis was curious about the way that strange relationship was unfolding in front of his eyes, but he didn't have time to hear Danny's answer because someone embraced him from behind, hiking him up in his seat and out of Missy's hold. He was about to put up a fight when Jackie said into his ear, "How about a little dance, Otis?"

He disentangled himself from the stool with some difficulty while Jackie helped him to his feet. His hand was grabbed quickly and Jackie began pulling him toward the dance floor. "You, straight girl," he yelled, "come on! Let's get wild!"

Missy downed her drink in one go and followed, with a huge grin on her face. Otis suspected that she loved dancing very much.

"Has Utah treated you right?" Jackie yelled at him, although the music wasn't that loud. Maybe Jackie just liked being loud.

"He gave me a pretty drink," Otis replied dutifully. The music had changed to a rhythmic beat, and now the dance floor was no longer bare.

Jackie pushed him so that they could face each other and began moving to the beat of the music with a coordination Otis observed with growing envy. He was a good dancer, indeed. And he seemed like a fun person, because he smiled and talked a lot. By his side, Missy was doing her own kind of dance, and she seemed to be a pretty good dancer, too. Jackie turned toward her and they both began performing a strange duet, jerking their bodies left and right, always with one shoulder forward as their dance partner moved the opposite back.

They were having fun, and Otis felt the room tilting for a moment, just a smidge. He was also warm all over, and his heart was starting to beat in synch with the music.

***

Hudson would have liked to question Jackie for a bit, but it looked like the loyal servant was anything but that. He said that he'd been twenty-four when doing the kind of work Jasper was doing, which meant that he was over twenty-five now, at least. However, he looked younger than that, and Hudson had his doubts that Jackie was telling the truth about everything. Still, he seemed to be a bit of an airhead and someone who bragged a great deal, so maybe he had a few truths about the place he could reveal, whether he wanted to or not.

It worked for him to be left alone with the 'models', whatever that work entailed. The room he found himself in was decorated in red, just like the hallway, and there was a small raised dais in the middle of it, appointed with a stripping pole.

The curtains behind the dais shifted for a moment, and then he heard some muffled voices emerging from there. "Hey," he called out loud, "anybody home?"

The curtains parted and a young man stepped onto the dais. He was completely naked, but that wasn't the part the made Hudson raise an eyebrow in question. There were red welts on his abdomen, crisscrossing it, and they looked pretty fresh.

"You the photographer?" he asked, one hand on his hip. He had a dark cruel smile on his face that made a terrible contrast with what seemed to be his young age.

"What's your name?" Hudson asked while taking in the slender body, the short blond hair and the blue eyes that were trying to pin him down with a cold stare.

A roll of the eyes, and then the cruel smirk was back. "Call me Angel."

Hudson shrugged and took out his phone. It would have to do for lack of better equipment. Watkins had left instructions for him to send the pics over once he was done.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Angel scolded him. "Aren't you supposed to be artistic and shit?" He marched back behind the curtains and came out with a box, which he dropped in front of Hudson. "For the record, I'm really flexible, so get to work already."

The contents of the box shouldn't have surprised him. He picked up a long rope and stared for a moment at the young man, who might have looked like an angel some time ago but now appeared to be more of the fallen kind. It appeared that his choice was appreciated, and a slender arm pointed at the ceiling. A system of pulleys hung there and Hudson wondered if he were supposed to provide some particular skills in getting the rope around it. Angel snorted, too astute for his own good, and knelt on the floor, where he fiddled with something on the side of the dais. The system began descending, and Hudson wasted no more time. To show that he knew how to be in charge, he pushed Angel on his back and then turned him. He had readied himself for something like this, so his moves were precise as he pushed and pulled the rope around the slender members until the attractive body was stretched in impossible angles. "Too tight?" he asked in a voice rough enough to let the other know that he really didn't care, or worse, that he'd be pleased to hear the confirmation only to deny any demand for mercy.

Angel was the wrong name for the young man. Hudson didn't wither under the disdainful glance his charge threw over one shoulder. "This isn't my first rodeo, outlander," he said with the same sardonic smirk from before.

"Outlander? Really? You should get more creative with your insults." Hudson linked the ends of the rope to the pulley and let his hands wander over the entire setup, Angel included, to check for any safety hazards.

"It's what you are," the young man said and blinked lazily. "And didn't I tell you? I'm an angel."

Hudson pushed the button himself and watched as Angel was being hiked up into the air. Then, he reached for his phone. "Say cheese," he said as he raised his arm.

Even the way he laughed made Angel sound like a cynical bastard. "Screw you. I'd rather play dead."

Hudson felt the now familiar snake coiling tightly in his gut. And Angel made faces at him from above, sticking his tongue out and letting it loll to the side, while his eyes rolled in his head. Then, he suddenly flashed a knowing look at him. "Fuck me, you should see your face."

Hudson frowned. "Good thing you're pretty. 'Cause you have one shitty personality, man."

"Thank you," came the bright reply.

"Now, show me you're here to actually sell something, not goof around." His pointed jibe reached its mark, because Angel's face suddenly turned serious. "I thought so. Now let me do my job."

***

Someone bumped into him from behind, and Otis turned to see a man in his thirties flashing a smile at him. "New here?" he yelled over the noise.

Otis didn't have the time to reply because Jackie slung one arm over his shoulder and pulled him back. "Hey, this guy," he said pointing at him but talking to the stranger, "doesn't go on dates."

The stranger seemed undaunted. He leaned forward to touch Otis, but Jackie was quick to pull him back even more. "Who says anything about dating?"

"Take a hint, man. If he's going to hook up with someone tonight, that lucky asshole's gonna be me."

"Possessive much?" the stranger said with a smirk, but it didn't look like he wanted to continue the conversation.

Otis stared after him for a bit and then turned toward Jackie, who was looking at him from up close. "I don't hook up," he said primly.

Jackie grinned, making his face look even more like a boy's. "I thought so. That means I still have a chance, right?"

Otis didn't know what to say. Jackie was nice, but to hook up with him... meant doing that kind of thing, and he was pretty sure that Hudson wouldn't approve and just shake his head at him, disappointed.

"I need to check on something for a bit," Jackie said and patted his shoulders. "I'll take you and Missy back to the bar so that Utah can keep his eyes on you."

"Do we need someone to do that?" Otis inquired politely. The club was packed by now, and Utah seemed to be over his head by what he could tell even from a distance.

"Someone might want to steal you," Jackie said promptly. "And you're here with me. I can't allow that."

Otis laughed. He wasn't an object to be stolen. "People get kidnapped, not stolen," he explained, when he realized that Jackie didn't get what the source of his amusement was.

"Ah," Jackie said and his eyes grew big. "You like to tell things how they are, don't you, Otis? Damn, just another thing to like about you. Anyway, let's get you back to the bar. I promise I'll be quick."

***

Hudson pointed at the welts on Angel's abdomen. Their little session was over, and it appeared that it was just one model for him to take pictures of, for the time being. That was his ticket in, or not. Sink or swim. "How did those get there?"

Angel touched his skin slowly, caressing each red line and looking down. "I like it rough. Don't tell me that comes as some big surprise to you?"

"Is that why you're here? To get your rocks off?" Hudson asked and used his phone to send Watkins the pics. Soon, he'd know if he just got himself hired into this shady place.

"Among other things." Angel rolled on his back on the dais and rubbed his arms to get the blood flowing again. "The pay's good, too."

"And? What's next?"

"What do you mean?"

"After you graduate," Hudson said.

"Graduate? Ah, you've been talking to that twit Jackie. He doesn't know shit about what's going on here." Angel put on an expression of superiority, and Hudson felt tempted to learn more.

"I don't know. He seemed to know what he was talking about," he said with a shrug.

Angel rolled to one side again and stared at him. It was strange not to even think that there was a naked attractive body so close to him. He didn't think of the young man that way, and wasn't that wrong of him? At what point had he stopped thinking of them as real people, and started seeing them as nothing but pawns on a chess board?

Or maybe there was something else. A part of him felt repulsed by what these young men were doing with their bodies. It wasn't the fact that they were selling themselves, or that some of them truly were into hardcore sexual practices. It was something fetid in the air, something he was probably only imagining, but his gut told him was there. If this lead proved not to be the one for the human trafficking ring, he'd be surprised. In his career so far, he didn't recall ever being surprised more than once or twice.

The door opened brusquely and Jackie made his entrance, his gait cocksure and his playful smirk directed at Angel. "Hey, babe," he drawled. "How's it hanging?" And then, to him. "Mr. Vegas, do you still need time with our top earner?"

Angel ignored him and pushed himself up, only to disappear behind the curtain without a word.

Jackie seemed completely unbothered about having been flipped like that. "These celebrities, right?" he said and shrugged. "I think he's still pissed I haven't taken him out to that new French restaurant, what's it called?" He snapped his fingers and looked at Hudson for help.

"I'm done here," Hudson said shortly.

"Okay, okay, then I'll escort you out. And I hope Mr. Watkins will hire you. It's always nice to have new faces around."

"Is that right?" Hudson asked with a crooked smile.

Jackie seemed completely oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm. "Yeah, I mean, it's exciting to see how business is done and all that. I want to put some money aside and start a thing of my own. Maybe not like that," he pointed vaguely at the system of pulleys from which the rope still hung. "I'd do some really crazy vanilla shit. I mean, like with a bit of spice, a bit of romance," he said, moving his hips as if he was dancing. "I'm telling you, in a couple of years, all this extreme stuff is going to be totally boring. And then, what will people want?" He opened his arms wide. "They'll want the vanilla stuff. 'Cause that's how the wheel turns."

Hudson just nodded. He doubted Jackie was looking for business advice, seeing how he appeared to have everything figured out as far as his future endeavors would look.

Jackie was about to add something, when his phone pinged. He looked at it with a serious expression on his face and then offered Hudson a strained smile. "Hey, man, I'm just going to take you out to the club in front, and then I gotta dash. Some late night errand. What can you do, right?"

"No problem, man. I can find my way. You can go."

Jackie rubbed his neck for a moment. "I'll still take you out front. House rules."

That was understandable. No matter how much of an airhead Jackie appeared to be, a few rules had been drilled into him. So, exploring the dark side of Twinlight wouldn't happen tonight. For now, Hudson believed he had some leads.

***

He moved through the throng of people, wondering again how they could be so oblivious to what kind of entertainment was offered in the back. But that only went to prove how tight the plan of those behind it was; they put on a hip front that seemed to be all above board, as Jackie would say, while they did their shady stuff behind that facade.

Since he was there, he could still do some reconnoitering to figure out the people that acted as liaisons between the front and the back. And the best person to ask was, of course, the man tending the bar.

Hudson offered pleasant smiles as he rubbed unwittingly against body after body and felt a few hands wandering across his back and ass. He could tell at least one guy must have slipped a note into one of his back pockets, most probably containing a phone number. If this were a regular night out, he'd be having a lot of fun within less than an hour.

He was working. And no one was doing it for him anyway. They seemed to him a blur of faces, which he examined in search of clues to help him. He didn't categorize them as attractive, or as blonds or brunets, or tall or short, and so on. Their smiles glided over him, without leaving one trace behind.

He pushed himself toward the bar and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized that hair, that prim scrubbed shirt, and that rigid posture, even though he hadn't had the time to examine their owner at as much length as he would have wanted. Hudson felt his teeth grinding. What the hell was he doing here, out of all the places in the world?