Oooo, please elaborate on terrified Otabek in a gentleman's club?
“Beka,” Yuri walks to the back of the bar and leans into the mirrored wall and up into his space. He smells like he’s been doused in vodka and rolled in an ashtray, which is one indicator among many that they need to leave. “They said they’d give us a couple’s dance for seventy-five.
Another indicator, among many, is that Yuri’s returned to the table with a woman on each arm. One is blonde and wears a day glow orange thong and little else. The other has long blue streaks in her hair that break up her jet black hair. Otabek’s never in his life heard Yuri say much of anything positive about any woman maybe other than Yuuko, and even then his affection is fleeting.
“I don’t like girls.” Otabek confesses. Although it’s not much of a secret. He’s been white knuckling it in silent discomfort in the back of the bar while Yuri’s sat at the rail now for well over an hour. Yuri’s come back for money three times in a row, for no reason other than he seems to enjoy the attention. The dancers seem to like him too. The girl on his right lifted up his shirt during her dance, unclasped his bralette, and placed a glitter stained kiss across his stomach all while Otabek watched.
Otabek’s used to the blood shot feeling of rage that clouds his vision when men make passes at Yuri. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel when it’s a woman’s job.
“I know that.” Yuri pouts. “But like, it’s fun to watch them dance. They said after the first song I can practice back in the champagne room.” At least that’s what he thinks Yuri says. His voice is slurred and the awful remixed pop music is deafening.
“Alone Beka. They’ll let me practice alone. With you.”