Again, how did he get there in the end?
He stopped in front of the club, watching the illuminated sign flashing in the dark of the night, alternating between looking up and down, still with the business card in hand. That was clearly the place.
"Next!" That evening there was a long queue. Not that he had better things to do, but was it always like that? To watch some thugs dance naked around poles?
He snorted loudly when the man in front of him entered the revolving door.
Yato stopped, looking around until he was beckoned to enter. Looking down, he rested his arm on the revolving door handle, entering still without looking up.
'What am I even doing here... maybe I should-'
"Hey, sexy! Want to go for a ride? My wife isn't home tonight." A man passed by, ignoring the yakuza completely.
Only then he raised his gaze and... damn.
From everywhere screams, whistles and loud chatter came, and people whirled around him ignoring the man standing in the middle, paralyzed looking around.
There was a strong smell of both alcohol and cigarettes, and among middle-aged men wearing heavy jackets for the cold outside, which that night was particularly unbearable, it was possible to spot some boys, generally younger than at least ten years, only in their underwear or trousers.
Yato felt uncomfortable. Not that he didn't like the environment, but he simply preferred to be alone; and if strip clubs were involved, a simple quick quickie wouldn't have hurt him. Or at least, he thought.
The music seemed to rise higher and higher, with the bass sharpening a slow and insistent rhythm.
He realized that standing still was useless, and since the way out was blocked by several people, he decided to throw himself into the crowd in the opposite direction.
After some wandering, he sat down in an armchair, near a stage where a couple of guys probably not older than twenty-five years were doing a show, with several men literally drooling at their feet like hungry beasts.
Yato assumed a disgusted expression trying not to show it; in strip clubs, as a matter of fact, people didn't play chess. He should have expected it.
However, he didn't feel in the least able to approach a guy and just ask him to go home with him. He saw men approaching, smiling, offering drinks, grabbing the younger boys around their waists; he couldn't do it, but maybe he could always enjoy the show, at least.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and exhaling. His fingers played around the empty glass, relaxing as he heard the ice cubes in the glass collide and slowly melt in the heat of the room.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and exhaling. His fingers played around the empty glass, relaxing as he heard the ice cubes in the glass collide and slowly melt in the heat of the room.
"Hey, handsome, what are you doing here all alone?" Yato felt a hand rest on his shoulder and immediately stiffened. He didn't have time to open his eyes that a boy sat on his lap, resting his hand on his chest.
The yakuza, unable to formulate a sentence of complete meaning at the moment, just looked him in the eye after having scrutinized the slender fingers covered with polish on his shoulder. The boy had short blond hair so light it was rare to find around, with longer locks in front of his ears that fell elegantly over his shoulders, mesmerizing purple eyes fringed with eyeliner and a spray of freckles that seemed to have been tried to be covered with some corrector.
"Ah, I-" The boy interrupted him crossing his legs, trying to press his thigh on his crotch.
"Your face is new. First time here?" The other continued, pretending nothing happened.
"Y-Yes." The yakuza nervously rubbed his fingertips on his goatee.
"Well, don't worry then. You're lucky you've found a patient one." and the boy laughed, without losing his provocative tone.
"Your face is new. First time here?" The other continued, pretending nothing happened.
"Y-Yes." The yakuza nervously rubbed his fingertips on his goatee.
"Well, don't worry then. You're lucky you've found a patient one." and the boy laughed, without losing his provocative tone.
He had to admit, the boy was charming. Maybe Daijiro was right when a few weeks earlier he had advised him so strongly to go there.
Yato smiled to himself, and the boy grabbed his tie and pulled his face towards his.
Something hard covered by the fabric of his trousers was pressing on his leg, and he was starting to become hard too. But still... he wasn't sure about that. It was the first time for him to have sex with a stranger.
When the boy parted his lips and his polished hand was reaching his erection, the other, starting already to breathe heavily, stopped him.
The boy widened his eyes, surprised; the older tried to apologize and justify himself in some way.
What was happening? He was there for sex, a quick orgasm and that's it. Why did he feel so nauseated and sick? He was such a coward.
The boy, however, was not discouraged, instead seeing that man almost as a challenge.
"What is it? Want to go directly to your place?"
His place, right! Surely at home he would be able to let himself go more.
The ride home was completely silent, except when the boy tried some approaches that didn't develop a conversation lasting more than a minute.
"You don't talk much, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"I understand."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. I like quiet men."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. I like quiet men."
That night the turn of the key inside the lock seemed infinite.
As soon as he entered, he let the boy come in and take off the jacket that the yakuza had lent him not to get cold in the car, and slammed the door behind him.
That blocking feeling wasn't gone yet. And those eyes looking at him as if they were waiting for something did nothing but put him even more in crisis.
"Where is your bedroom?"
The man pointed it out to him, and followed the boy until he laid down on his bed. As he sat on the edge of the mattress he started to take off his tie staring into space, increasingly unsure of what he was doing. His eyes widened when he heard a belt being unbuckled and noticed that the boy was about to take off his underwear.
"No! Don't-" The boy stopped, more and more taken aback. What the hell was wrong with that man!? "Don't do it."
The younger sat down composed, waiting a little annoyed for an explanation.
"Sorry, I can't do this." and the yakuza put his hands in his long black hair, avoiding eye contact.
The boy snorted, but curious to hear more.
"Can we just... talk instead?" The other was deeply confused, not used to such conversations. The yakuza immediately continued "I'll pay you what you need. Even more."
What did he have to lose at that point? He rearranged his boxers and approached the man, careful not to make too rash actions. As long as he paid him he could do what he liked, after all.
"Put one of my shirts on and my jacket back on again. You'll catch a cold." The boy obeyed, now sitting on his couch facing the older man. He looked around.
"What's your name?" Yato asked tentatively, offering him a cup of coffee. The boy accepted it humming, replying "Toshiaki. And yours?"
"Yato."
"I... like that." and looked up at him.
Immediately afterward he resumed looking around; he seemed to be looking for something.
"Is... my house fine?"
"Yeah yeah, just wondering... what your partner might look like. You're a particular type, so I guess you're married with a woman like you?"
Oh, fuck. He didn't consider that question.
"I'm gay, actually. And single."
The boy almost spat out his coffee. "What!? And how old are you?"
"Thirty-seven."
"Tsk, you're ten years older than me and have no idea what to do with your life."
He certainly couldn't tell him he was a yakuza.
"Just like me. I mean look, I'm a stripper. People are often ashamed of me."
The man turned to him, noticing the bitterness in those words but preferring not to interfere too much, even if he understood perfectly well what he meant.
The boy held the cup with both hands, while they continued to exchange a few questions and chat more and more comfortably. Yato smiled more and more often and the boy had completely forgotten the initial purpose of why he had been brought there, laughing like he hadn't done for a long time.
When they heard a rumble of thunder outside the window the boy checked his phone, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and announcing "I think I need to go now. Can I keep at least your shirt on? It's raining."
"Yeah sure but, don't you need a lift?" The man stood up, taking the keys headed for the door.
"Don't worry. There is a train station nearby. I'll manage something."
And when Yato handed him some money, the boy was about to grab them when he felt the urge to... not do it. He grabbed his wrist and pulled it away, announcing "Nah, you can keep everything. I think I enjoyed an evening more than my client, for once." and as soon as he waved his farewell he went out the door whistling: "Goodbye, then. I guess."
"Yeah, goodbye." And the man, as soon as he closed the door, squatted with his back against the wall and his head between his hands. What the fuck had just happened?
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