turps

Mikey reached up above his head and grabbed the bars of his cage, rolling his hips as he did. He moved in a long, slow undulation that the customers always loved, easily keeping time to the pulsing beat of the stereotypical dance music of every club in this shit town. It kept them mesmerized while he gazed into the cage across the club, observing the timid new kid across the floor. What was his name? Ray? No....Ryan. Ryan Ross.

To say the least of things Ryan was having a hard time. He wasn’t gathering much of a crowd, and he’d been working for near an hour. So far only he only got hecklers that jeered at the nervous, awkward motions of his hips.

The kid was mostly angles, and he danced...Okay, he didn’t really dance. He more...moved like the music he heard was from another planet. Kinda....no. That was pretty much it. Mikey wondered why he was even working as a go-go dancer with those kinda moves.

But if he looked past the stiffness, and the only half-hidden terror in his eyes he could see there was something…he had a kind of beauty and ethereal prettiness that would have the patrons eating out of his hands if he could just loosen up.

Finally Mikey just couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed out of his cage and slid to the floor, stepping carefully to avoid the more -- ahem -- enthusiastic customers. Stalking over to Ryan’s cage, Mikey hoisted himself up over the top and dropped down in front of him. Ryan startled as it rocked a little from the added weight and flinched back like he expected Mikey to hit him. And, jesus, Mikey didn’t want to know what had taught him to react like that.

“Uhmm ...this is my cage. Bob said so...” The kid spoke with such a monotone that Mikey might have thought he was calm, but his eye’s were wide and frantic as they had been the entire time he’d been here. He kinda hoped that he hadn’t been this nervous when he first started.

“I know, I know, but you looked like you needed a little help over here.” Ryan looked pretty impressed by Mikey’s legendary monotone -- just as deadpan as his own.

“I..I...what?” Ryan fumbled out, blushing. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve got to relax. Loosen up,” he encouraged. He put his hands on Ryan’s waist and tugged them around to the rhythm of the pulsing music, matching them with his own so they were swaying into a sultry kind of grind. “You’ve got the look, you know? A pretty boy like you could be a star around here. But these jackals can smell blood in the water.” Mikey paused and gave a spare glance to the hungry eyes that had turned towards them in the past few minutes. “You can’t let them know you’re afraid. It’s the first thing you’ve gotta learn.”

“I-I’m not...” Ryan’s eyes went cold -- no, defiant -- and he stiffened in Mikey’s arms, trying to pull back. “Just go back to your own cage,” he whispered petulantly. “Leave me alone.”

“Yeah, you are kid,” Mikey said softly, looking right into Ryan’s eyes. He saw fear there, but he also saw strength. And...maybe something more. Something he’d like to learn more about at a later time. “I could see it from across the club, but you don’t need to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan looked back into his eyes then -- deeply -- like he was searching for something. “How do you know?”