5. A Private Dance

"I'm worried about Billy," Mallory says. The two of them are sat at a tiny table, close enough together that they could almost be on a date. The neon-lit stage before them easily shatters that illusion.

"You sound like his mother," Seth replies. After a moment his scornful expression softens. "But I think I know what you mean."

The girl on stage winks at them before blithely removing her sequinned brassiere. Mallory smiles politely, then turns in her seat to face Seth more fully.

"Have you seen the marks?”

“He's done a good job of trying to hide them, but yeah. I've seen the marks.”

“I hate to think of what he's injecting.”

“Isn't that the funniest thing, though? I've not tasted anything. Heroin is like anchovies; no matter how much the waiter swears there's none there, it ruins a meal. But Billy's blood tastes clean.”

“Do you think maybe he's been to the doctor? Had some kind of tests?”

“I don't know. It's possible. But again... he doesn't taste sick.”

“And the way he ushered us out earlier...”

“He could just be coming down. Probably doesn't want us around in case the last of that MDMA makes us 'extra-bitey', as he calls it. We all want to be alone sometimes.”

“Not Billy, though.” Mallory looks down into her wine glass. The dry white has long gone warm; a single sip earlier informed her of its entirely unpalatable nature. “Ever since we met him, he's wanted us over. He told me the other night that he finds it hard to sleep when we're not there.”

"None of us sleep well," Seth counters. "With everything we have running through our systems at any given time, is it any wonder?"

“But it's not in my head, is it.”

Seth sighs. “No. I don't reckon it is.”

“I just,” Mallory takes a deep breath then gulps down a generous amount of the acidic wine, “I don't know what to do. He insists he's happy, but I know unhappy.”

“If it'll make you feel better, we could always ask him straight up. He knows we care about him, maybe we'll even be able to help.” Seth's cigarette finally burns down to the filter. He winces as the last of the hot ash crumbles down against his knuckle. This place might be on the glittering side of awful, but they still let you smoke indoors, and that goes a long way.

“Do you think he'd tell us?” Mallory licks her chapped lips, trying to eradicate the sour after-taste of the wine.

“Only one way to find out. You sure he said he was meeting us here?”

“Swear on my snatch,” Mallory nods, then erupts in giggles. The crystals she'd used the wine to wash down when they first got here have suddenly ignited a silly little fire in her. Seth's feeling it too; a moment ago he was swaying his head from side to side in time with the music, now his tempo is way ahead of what plays on the club's sound system.

“I love you,” Mallory says, clutching his knee.

“I fucking love you too,” Seth grabs a handful of her hair and kisses her so hard it brings a sting to her dry mouth. When the kiss is over, they remain huddled together, foreheads resting together.

“I might know what we can do for Billy,” Mallory whispers. The music pumps far too loudly, they can feel it in their bones now, but Seth just nods softly against her and she continues.

“We can make him like us. He'd never be unhappy or alone again.”

Seth inhales deeply, as if breathing in this new concept with the stale, tangy air of the strip club.

"Do you know how much responsibility that would be?"

"I thought you said you'd never changed anybody before."

"I haven't. But it's what you hear, isn't it."

"I just really think we could do this. Together, no?"

"You really think we're ready?"

"I really do."

“Then so do I.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“It's his birthday in a few weeks.”

“Perfect! We can surprise him.”

They embrace, and in this moment of artificial clarity, or maybe despite it, Mallory knows that what they are saying today will still be true tomorrow. And this knowledge, this surety, makes her love Seth more happily, more liberally, than she has felt able to in a very long time.

The stripper steps down from the stage, her set ended, and leans forward over their table to introduce herself as Cassie, and then ask, in a manner that is both friendly and entrepreneurial, whether either of them would like a private dance.

"We... should go," Mallory says.

“But the night is young,” a new voice announces. Billy appears between them. He crouches so that he is level with them, and kisses Mallory's cheek first, then Seth's.

“Well if it isn't the comedown kid himself,” Seth grips Billy's face and squeezes his cheeks together in what appears to be a simple friendly gesture. Mallory saw him do the exact same thing two nights ago, while he was lapping blood from Billy's shoulder, his other hand wrapped lightly around Billy's cock.

“My boys,” she smiles.

“We'll take a dance,” Billy tells the girl. “Would all three of us be acceptable?”

Cassie eyes the three of them dubiously, then tells them it will cost extra.

“Not a problem,” Seth says. “Lead the way.”

They allow themselves to be led to a round booth towards the back of the club. Once they are all seated, Cassie draws a black curtain behind her, blocking their view of the rest of the club (and, presumably, the rest of the club's view of them).

“So,” Cassie breathes, nowhere near as seductively as she probably thinks, “who's first?”

Seth and Mallory both point to Billy, who is sat between them on the curved, padded leather seat.

Cassie smiles coyly, which is more than a little jarring when she is wearing nothing but a thong made out of what looks like spun gold.

“Rumpelstilstkin,” Billy utters as Cassie lowers herself onto his lap.

“Is that some kind of safety word?” She asks, looking first to Seth, then to Mallory. Seth chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Please,” he says, “continue.”

First, Cassie lays her palms flat down against Billy's chest, as if to subdue him. Then she pushes back, straightening her arms, arching her back and bringing her hips right against his. Cassie leans back, further back than would appear physically possible at first, so that she is lying back flat against his legs, her breasts defying gravity. Seth can almost hear Mallory thinking: boobjob and yoga. This young lady is committed to her work. Clearly likes to go the extra mile.

Mallory shifts in her seat, and Seth leans forward. He reaches out to brush his fingers against Cassie's hand. She notices the two of them eyeing her keenly, hungrily, and says:

“Any weird stuff will cost you extra.”

***

Half an hour later, Seth and Mallory emerge from the club, arm in arm with Billy, who walks between them, a broad, ruddy smile on his face. Behind them, back in the club, Cassie nurses two neat little puncture wounds in her forearm. It stings, but the pain is lessened by the wad of notes that Seth pressed into her hand afterwards.

She did say it would cost them extra. And she does like to go the extra mile.

~