***

Finding The Bouncing Bunny hadn’t been an easy feat. The place wasn’t listed anywhere, Internet research hadn’t produced much, and if those weren’t signs that something was very wrong about the place, Hudson didn’t know what else it could be. However, his street smarts didn’t let him down. He knew how he looked, with his tattoos and rough appearance. He had led a different kind of life before becoming a detective, running wild, doing whatever he believed would make him feel free until, quite soon, he had come to the realization that so-called freedom was overrated.

Asking here and there as he walked through rundown neighborhoods finally brought him to the front of what looked like a door leading into a cave. It was quite apropos; shady dealings weren’t meant for sunlight. He entered without being challenged by anyone, but once he was inside a heavyset man on the north side of two hundred and fifty pounds put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, pal.”

Hudson took in the long stage that was probably meant for some type of striptease entertainment. There was no one dancing in skimpy clothes on the elevated dais at the moment. There were very few clients, too, and they were all nursing drinks.

He waited for a moment to reply to the brute palming his shoulder just enough to prove that he was someone people didn’t usually mess with. “Hi,” he said and turned his head to face the man. “I’ve heard good things about this place,” he added. “Although it looks kind of empty.”

“You here for boys?” the brute asked.

Straight to the point. Hudson nodded.

“They don’t happen until later. Go to the bar. Drink.”

What a pleasant welcome, Hudson thought dryly and obeyed. This kind of place was probably concealing its usual source of income by providing outrageously expensive drinks to the patrons. He took a place at one of the tables around the stage and waited as his eyes began scanning his surroundings.

***

A couple of hours later, and what would count as an enormous expense as far as drinks went – Hudson had chosen the path of moderation while trying not to come across as frugal – the show started rolling in front of his eyes. The boys, because they could hardly be called men, presented themselves with languid moves that appeared to whet the appetite of those watching at a snail’s pace. Hudson pondered. He had gotten into the place without any problem. That meant that the owners who ran the club weren’t worried about the police. It also meant that, most probably, they had some solid fake ID business helping them, to prove that their employees were of legal age. That was one theory. Hudson was all the more intrigued.

“Hey, family man,” someone called for him. Jasper stretched on his belly and came level with Hudson’s eyes. “I thought you were too good for the likes of me.”

Hudson smiled and waved a bill in front of the young man, watching how his eyes followed it avidly. “I thought I’d try it out. Say, what’s the usual MO around here? Who do I ask for a special lap dance or something?”

Jasper pouted but grabbed the bill from Hudson’s hand, putting it carefully into his skimpy underwear. “You could have had me for free. Don’t tell me you want to pay now.”

“Maybe I’m here for the atmosphere,” Hudson joked. “How about you and a friend? How does that sound?”

Jasper turned his head, and it took Hudson only a moment to realize that he was searching for someone with his eyes. “I’ll go ask and arrange something,” he said, all business-like. And then, as if he had just remembered that he was supposed to be in this for pleasure, too, he offered Hudson the same toothy grin as before. Just like then, it was lackluster, and only a sign that something important had been lost some time ago.

The brute from before came to escort him down a long hallway, his attitude somewhat deferential now that Hudson was a paying customer. “Do you like’em young?” he joked and neighed like a horse.

“The younger, the better,” Hudson said with a shrug.

“We got all kinds here,” the brute said and opened the door to a red room, in which a round bed was placed in the middle with a couple of chairs around it. Despite the shocking crimson color, upon a closer inspection, the appointments appeared cheap as if they had been shopped for at a discount store for used things.

Hudson made a show of trying the bed springs and nodded as if he was satisfied with it. He had his back to the brute and wasn’t in the least surprised when the man grabbed his arms and began searching his pockets. “Hey, man, what the hell?” he protested for show.

“A photographer? Like for newspapers and shit?” the brute asked.

“No. I’m an artist,” Hudson said with self-importance. “Erotic photography.”

“Is anyone paying for it?”

“Yes.”

“So, you here to take photos of them boys?”

“Yes. I will pay.”

“You be damn sure you pay,” the brute said and pushed him away. Then, he pushed the stolen card into Hudson’s chest. “But no funny business. No newspapers and shit. We don’t need that kind around.”

“I’m not a reporter.” He was someone much worse than that for the kind of business they ran at The Bouncing Bunny. But he wasn’t keen on volunteering that information.

The brute seemed convinced. “Well, enjoy yourself, photographer. No funny business,” he repeated and wagged his finger at Hudson.

Hudson put his hands up and offered a grin full of teeth. “No funny business,” he promised.

TBC