Chapter 5
Loud music was playing, and the stage in the middle of the room was occupied by a slender, lithe beauty with a mop of golden curls. He looked like he was about fifteen, but Chris knew that was only for show. The twink stripper was probably closer to twenty-one, since Carlos wouldn’t employ underage boys in his club. This wasn’t out of respect for the law, per se; it was more to do with the fact that the strippers often made money on the side acting as male prostitutes. Carlos didn’t want any of that spilling back to his club, which it would if the cops discovered that the male prostitute that they’d just busted was working at a night club illegally. They were far more tolerant(after a little money changed hands) of his employing strippers under the table than they would be about other things.
The boy on the stage gyrated around the pole, wearing only a glittering pink thong and some feathers in his hair. Chris’ eyes scanned the place, looking for the owner. Finally, they came to rest on a small back table, where Carlos Riviera was seated along with a hulking bodyguard named Pepe and a pretty twink called Fantasy, who not only worked the stage but was also Carlos’ boy toy as well. Chris called to Azzandar: “This way! Come on!” and plunged into the crowd, determined to make his way over to where Carlos was sitting.
He might have had a hard time of it, but once Azzandar realized what he was doing the former demon easily cleared a path for them. Low, subtle growls made many rather wide-eyed patrons step back, and Chris wished silently that he could just disappear right now as they all stared at him and his companion. But at least they got to their destination quickly, and he stopped at the table. “Hi, Carlos!” he called over the music.
The club owner looked up. “Hey, Chris!” he called, his face lighting up. “How’s they hangin’ muchacho?”
“Umm, they’re okay. Listen, can we talk in your office? I have something I want to ask you!” Chris called. “It's important. Please?”
“Sure, anything for you, amigo. Pepe, you watch the place, make sure everybody behaves themselves. Fantasy, you just keep bein’ sexy, eh?” Carlos ran his hand possessively over his boy toy’s hair as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Fantasy gave Chris a cold look. None of Carlos’ boy toys had ever liked him; they didn’t understand his relationship with the nightclub owner, and most figured that the two of them were sleeping together. Not that they cared, or they wouldn’t have if they’d been allowed in on the action…but since they weren’t, it made them feel insecure. Chris had long since given up trying to explain that Carlos and he were merely friends, and that they’d never slept together. None had ever believed him.
Carlos led him to the back office, pushing the door open. His eyes came to rest on Azzandar as the former demon stepped into the office behind Chris. “Who’s this, Chris?”
“This is who I wanted to talk to you about, Carlos,” Chris said. “His name is Azzandar, but you can call him Azz for short.”
“Like - a piece of Azz? That’s cool,” Carlos said with a sharp grin.
Chris heard a soft hiss from behind the scarf wrapped around Azzandar’s neck, and knew he had to act quickly before the former demon decided that he didn’t like Carlos’ form of humor and decided to show his displeasure. “Umm, yeah. Listen, I know that you’re always looking for really exotic guys. And I’d say that Azz fits that bill perfectly.”
Carlos lifted a brow. “Oh? In what way?” he asked curiously.
Chris turned to Azzandar. “You can take off all of that stuff now,” he directed.
Azzandar pulled off his gloves and tossed them at Chris, who caught them as the scarf was unwound, and the black glasses removed from the yellow-slitted eyes. The hat came next, and finally the coat. Chris heard a sharp indrawn breath as Carlos got a good look at the ‘man’ underneath all of the concealing garments. Azzandar bared his teeth at Carlos, who looked flabbergasted. “Wow, you weren’t kidding!” he said. “That is a great costume! Are you like a make-up artist or something?” he asked Azzandar. “I like the tail, by the way - nice touch.”
Chris spoke before Azzandar could. “Isn’t it great? Don’t you think that your customers would love a cat-man as a stripper?”
“It’s a great gimmick, that’s for sure,” Carlos agreed. “But there’s more to it than just a good costume. Can he dance? And can he be sexy?”
Chris turned to Azzandar. “Would you dance for Carlos? Remember, this is so you can have a job and earn money,” he added just for Azzandar’s ears only. “It’s the only job you can get looking like this.”
The former demon gave him a cold look. “You do not need to remind me, Chris,” he snarled. “I will show this human something he has never seen before.”
Carlos had walked over to his desk and turned on the radio there. Throbbing, sensual music poured out of it. ”Let’s see what you got,” he told Azzandar.
Azzandar stepped into the middle of the room and faced Carlos. He sneered at the club owner, his lip lifting off of his sharp white teeth. He tossed his head a little, then reached up to toy with the top button of the gauzy shirt that Chris had bought him. He startled Carlos by lashing his tail back and forth, and the club owner looked fascinated as Azzandar began to sway in place sensually. His lean hips rocked, as his yellow eyes went lidded and full of darkness. His slightly clawed fingertips traced up his neck slowly, drawing attention to his mouth as he ran one over his lower lip. “Do you want me?” he purred in a low, growly voice that made poor Chris feel rather dizzy.
Carlos looked like he was fighting back a groan. Azzandar arched his back as though offering himself to the club owner. “I think that you want me,” he snarled softly, his eyes burning with a yellow flame. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Carlos said on a half-moan.
Azzandar chuckled wickedly. “But you cannot have me, human. None of you can. You may look but not touch,” he ran his clawed finger down the front of the shirt, drawing attention to his body.
“Jesus Christ! Where did you find him, Chris? He’s sensational! I’ll pack this place with him on the stage!” Carlos enthused.
Chris shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Carlos,” he replied. “Let’s just say that I picked up a stray, and leave it at that.”
Chris sat at Carlos’ personal table. He felt nervous as he waited for Azzandar to come on for his first show. The cat-man had been practicing all week, coming into the club every night. Now he was going to dance for the patrons packing the club to see Carlos’ exotic new stripper. He felt a touch on his shoulder, and looked over at his friend. “I gotta thank you, Chris!” he called. “This one’s gonna make me so much cash that I won’t be able to spend it all!”
“I’m glad,” Chris replied sincerely. He genuinely liked Carlos. The club owner had been very good to him over the years, with no thought of reward except friendship. He was happy to be able to pay Carlos back, even in such a roundabout way.
Carlos grinned at him, then looked at the stage as low, throbbing music began to thrum out of the speakers. The curtains slowly drew back, showing a single spotlight and a figure half-shrouded in shadow. Azzandar stood still at first, his hands at his sides and his head bowed. But then, in a single moment, he came alive. His head lifted, and he glided into the spotlight like a snake. He was wearing a long black cape that enfolded him completely, and a fedora pulled low over his eyes. He stopped in the spotlight, and his face tilted so that he could sneer out at the watching audience. He flashed a single fang, as his hand emerged from under the cape to reach for the knot at his throat. Chris found that he was holding his breath, as Azzandar’s clawed hands made quick work of the fastening at the top of the cape. Both of the cat-man’s hands lifted, and the cape slid away in a rustle of fabric to reveal his body. There was a gasp that swept through the club as the audience got a look at what was under the cape. Skin-tight leather pants hugged his legs, and blatantly exposed the bulge at the front. Gold rings flashed in his nipples. Carlos had had them pierced for the show. Gold serpent armbands coiled up his upper arms, their heads pointing toward the spiked leather collar around his neck. He lifted a hand, showing that his fingers were covered with gold rings. He touched his own chest, running a claw lightly over the brown flesh in a slow circle.
Azzandar turned around in a slow, sinuous manner, and another gasp went up as the audience saw the tail jutting out from a hole in the backside of the leather pants. He lashed it as he looked over his shoulder at the watching people. Reaching up, he toyed with the brim of the fedora. ‘Don’t you want to see my face?’ he seemed to be saying. ‘You know you want to.’ Still holding the hat, Azzandar swiveled back around. His hips did another snake-like sway, and he lowered his head. The fedora was pulled away down to rest on his chest, then Azzandar lifted his face into the spotlight so that the audience could see his yellow-slitted eyes, pointed ears with their ruffle of fur, and the very sharp white teeth he displayed as he smiled like a shark. A low sound went through the club, then the audience began to clap in appreciation of the stripper’s exotic ‘costume’.
Azzandar acknowledged this acclaim with a dismissive little wave of his hand. He sneered at his audience sensually, telling them silently that they could look but not touch because they weren’t worthy. Azzandar strutted down the stage, with his claws hooked in the front of the leather pants. His tail twitched behind him. The audience had to be wondering how he was doing that, Chris thought dimly. He reached out blindly for the glass of water in front of him and gulped it down, to combat a sudden bout of extreme dry mouth. Azzandar stopped at the front of the stage and looked down on the humans gaping up at him, that sneer still firmly on his mouth. He crooked an arm behind his back, and slid his other hand titillatingly down the front of the leather pants. ‘Would you like me to take these off?’ he seemed to be asking silently. A roar of approval swept the club.
Azzandar lashed his tail and whirled around. He stalked to the pole set in the middle of the stage, stopping just short of it. His hands gathered in the front of the leather pants and ripped them away, tearing the Velcro sewn down the front seams. A gold thong was revealed, along with that amazingly sexy ass that Chris had seen far too much of for the last few weeks. A growl of approval from the audience as Azzandar glanced back over his shoulder at them, his eyes lidded and full of contempt. He walked forward two steps, and put a hand on the pole. He caressed it lightly, sensually, and everyone in the audience imagined that the pole wasn’t made of metal - and was attached to their bodies instead of the stage. Azzandar rubbed against the pole like a cat in heat, such a very appropriate gesture for a former feline…He twined around it, facing the audience once again. He leaned on the pole, his arms around it, his fingers stroking the metal. His cheek rubbed against the pole, as he gave the watchers a lidded look full of such sensuality that it was a wonder that every man in the club didn’t orgasm simultaneously.
Azzandar’s tongue darted out and licked a long trail down the metal of the pole. Groans broke out in a chorus. The cat-man’s long tail wrapped slowly around the pole, also stroking the metal. His body swayed slowly, hypnotically. He was making love to the pole, grinding his hips against it. A low hiss broke from his lips, and Chris found himself shivering in his seat. Dear God! He shouldn’t have come to this show, he thought wildly. Because it was going to be a wonder that he didn’t come AT this show!
Azzandar danced with the pole, sliding up and down it while swaying his hips. When he began gently humping it, moans broke from almost every pair of lips in the club. With a final grind, Azzandar crouched down on the floor. He began to crawl across the stage, slowly but surely. He was so utterly cat-like in this moment that it was a wonder no one realized that no human should be able to move like that. The yellow eyes turned left and right, pinning various gazes in the audience. Azzandar hissed again, showing his teeth in a wicked smile. Reaching the end of the stage, he crouched there and stretched his body gracefully in a long arch. He ended up lying on his belly. He humped the stage a little, lifting his hips. As the music rose to its crescendo, he rolled over so that he was lying on his side. Stretching his body out, he caressed the stage with his fingertips. At the same time, his tongue slowly slid out of his mouth, and he licked at the air provocatively. His yellow eyes gleamed savagely as the light began to go lower and lower. Then he was lost in shadows again, as the audience roared and clapped wildly.
The lights came up. Azzandar stood on the stage, looking down on them again. He flicked his tail contemptuously as he waited. People mobbed the stage, intent on stuffing money into the gold thong. Azzandar allowed this, but whenever anyone touched any other part of him he slapped their hands away and growled lowly. No one was allowed to touch him; he was above them all. Chris shook his head. Azzandar despised all of these humans, and they lapped it up. Azzandar finally stalked away into the wings without a backward glance. The crowd roared and cheered behind him again, and Carlos turned a gleaming smile on Chris. “I am going to be rich, my friend! I cannot thank you enough!”
“It was all Azzandar,” he called back.
“Verdad. Come on back to my office, will you?” Carlos rose to his feet, patting Fantasy’s curls and motioning for Pepe to stay and watch the place. Chris followed him through the jostling crowd to the office. Inside, he saw Azzandar lounging on Carlos’ leather couch. The cat-man was still only wearing the gold thong and the spiked collar, which made Chris feel more than a little light-headed.
“Azzandar,” he managed to croak. “You did really well.” The former demon sniffed, waving a clawed hand at him.
“Of course I did,” he sneered. “It is not that difficult to entice you wretched humans,” Carlos’ brows shot up at this statement.
Chris shot him a rather wild look. “Don’t you think that you need to stop being in character now, Azz?” he asked rather desperately. “You’re not on stage now.”
Azzandar glowered at him, but finally shrugged. “Fine,” he growled. “You’ll take me home now, Chris.” This imperious statement made Carlos blink, but Chris only nodded.
“Yes,” he replied. “But you need to go to the dressing room and put your clothes on. You can’t go outside wearing THAT,” he pointed in the general direction of the gold thong.
“As you wish. Here is the money that those impertinent fools gave me,” the cat-man handed Chris a very large wad of cash, the sight of which made him gulp heavily. “I will get dressed,” he stalked away toward the dancers’ dressing room, leaving Carlos and Chris behind him in the office.
“Your friend sure is…odd,” Carlos noted.
“Yeah, he is,” Chris agreed dryly, beginning to count the money in his hands. “More than you know.”
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Loud music was playing, and the stage in the middle of the room was occupied by a slender, lithe beauty with a mop of golden curls. He looked like he was about fifteen, but Chris knew that was only for show. The twink stripper was probably closer to twenty-one, since Carlos wouldn’t employ underage boys in his club. This wasn’t out of respect for the law, per se; it was more to do with the fact that the strippers often made money on the side acting as male prostitutes. Carlos didn’t want any of that spilling back to his club, which it would if the cops discovered that the male prostitute that they’d just busted was working at a night club illegally. They were far more tolerant(after a little money changed hands) of his employing strippers under the table than they would be about other things.
The boy on the stage gyrated around the pole, wearing only a glittering pink thong and some feathers in his hair. Chris’ eyes scanned the place, looking for the owner. Finally, they came to rest on a small back table, where Carlos Riviera was seated along with a hulking bodyguard named Pepe and a pretty twink called Fantasy, who not only worked the stage but was also Carlos’ boy toy as well. Chris called to Azzandar: “This way! Come on!” and plunged into the crowd, determined to make his way over to where Carlos was sitting.
He might have had a hard time of it, but once Azzandar realized what he was doing the former demon easily cleared a path for them. Low, subtle growls made many rather wide-eyed patrons step back, and Chris wished silently that he could just disappear right now as they all stared at him and his companion. But at least they got to their destination quickly, and he stopped at the table. “Hi, Carlos!” he called over the music.
The club owner looked up. “Hey, Chris!” he called, his face lighting up. “How’s they hangin’ muchacho?”
“Umm, they’re okay. Listen, can we talk in your office? I have something I want to ask you!” Chris called. “It's important. Please?”
“Sure, anything for you, amigo. Pepe, you watch the place, make sure everybody behaves themselves. Fantasy, you just keep bein’ sexy, eh?” Carlos ran his hand possessively over his boy toy’s hair as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Fantasy gave Chris a cold look. None of Carlos’ boy toys had ever liked him; they didn’t understand his relationship with the nightclub owner, and most figured that the two of them were sleeping together. Not that they cared, or they wouldn’t have if they’d been allowed in on the action…but since they weren’t, it made them feel insecure. Chris had long since given up trying to explain that Carlos and he were merely friends, and that they’d never slept together. None had ever believed him.
Carlos led him to the back office, pushing the door open. His eyes came to rest on Azzandar as the former demon stepped into the office behind Chris. “Who’s this, Chris?”
“This is who I wanted to talk to you about, Carlos,” Chris said. “His name is Azzandar, but you can call him Azz for short.”
“Like - a piece of Azz? That’s cool,” Carlos said with a sharp grin.
Chris heard a soft hiss from behind the scarf wrapped around Azzandar’s neck, and knew he had to act quickly before the former demon decided that he didn’t like Carlos’ form of humor and decided to show his displeasure. “Umm, yeah. Listen, I know that you’re always looking for really exotic guys. And I’d say that Azz fits that bill perfectly.”
Carlos lifted a brow. “Oh? In what way?” he asked curiously.
Chris turned to Azzandar. “You can take off all of that stuff now,” he directed.
Azzandar pulled off his gloves and tossed them at Chris, who caught them as the scarf was unwound, and the black glasses removed from the yellow-slitted eyes. The hat came next, and finally the coat. Chris heard a sharp indrawn breath as Carlos got a good look at the ‘man’ underneath all of the concealing garments. Azzandar bared his teeth at Carlos, who looked flabbergasted. “Wow, you weren’t kidding!” he said. “That is a great costume! Are you like a make-up artist or something?” he asked Azzandar. “I like the tail, by the way - nice touch.”
Chris spoke before Azzandar could. “Isn’t it great? Don’t you think that your customers would love a cat-man as a stripper?”
“It’s a great gimmick, that’s for sure,” Carlos agreed. “But there’s more to it than just a good costume. Can he dance? And can he be sexy?”
Chris turned to Azzandar. “Would you dance for Carlos? Remember, this is so you can have a job and earn money,” he added just for Azzandar’s ears only. “It’s the only job you can get looking like this.”
The former demon gave him a cold look. “You do not need to remind me, Chris,” he snarled. “I will show this human something he has never seen before.”
Carlos had walked over to his desk and turned on the radio there. Throbbing, sensual music poured out of it. ”Let’s see what you got,” he told Azzandar.
Azzandar stepped into the middle of the room and faced Carlos. He sneered at the club owner, his lip lifting off of his sharp white teeth. He tossed his head a little, then reached up to toy with the top button of the gauzy shirt that Chris had bought him. He startled Carlos by lashing his tail back and forth, and the club owner looked fascinated as Azzandar began to sway in place sensually. His lean hips rocked, as his yellow eyes went lidded and full of darkness. His slightly clawed fingertips traced up his neck slowly, drawing attention to his mouth as he ran one over his lower lip. “Do you want me?” he purred in a low, growly voice that made poor Chris feel rather dizzy.
Carlos looked like he was fighting back a groan. Azzandar arched his back as though offering himself to the club owner. “I think that you want me,” he snarled softly, his eyes burning with a yellow flame. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Carlos said on a half-moan.
Azzandar chuckled wickedly. “But you cannot have me, human. None of you can. You may look but not touch,” he ran his clawed finger down the front of the shirt, drawing attention to his body.
“Jesus Christ! Where did you find him, Chris? He’s sensational! I’ll pack this place with him on the stage!” Carlos enthused.
Chris shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Carlos,” he replied. “Let’s just say that I picked up a stray, and leave it at that.”
Chris sat at Carlos’ personal table. He felt nervous as he waited for Azzandar to come on for his first show. The cat-man had been practicing all week, coming into the club every night. Now he was going to dance for the patrons packing the club to see Carlos’ exotic new stripper. He felt a touch on his shoulder, and looked over at his friend. “I gotta thank you, Chris!” he called. “This one’s gonna make me so much cash that I won’t be able to spend it all!”
“I’m glad,” Chris replied sincerely. He genuinely liked Carlos. The club owner had been very good to him over the years, with no thought of reward except friendship. He was happy to be able to pay Carlos back, even in such a roundabout way.
Carlos grinned at him, then looked at the stage as low, throbbing music began to thrum out of the speakers. The curtains slowly drew back, showing a single spotlight and a figure half-shrouded in shadow. Azzandar stood still at first, his hands at his sides and his head bowed. But then, in a single moment, he came alive. His head lifted, and he glided into the spotlight like a snake. He was wearing a long black cape that enfolded him completely, and a fedora pulled low over his eyes. He stopped in the spotlight, and his face tilted so that he could sneer out at the watching audience. He flashed a single fang, as his hand emerged from under the cape to reach for the knot at his throat. Chris found that he was holding his breath, as Azzandar’s clawed hands made quick work of the fastening at the top of the cape. Both of the cat-man’s hands lifted, and the cape slid away in a rustle of fabric to reveal his body. There was a gasp that swept through the club as the audience got a look at what was under the cape. Skin-tight leather pants hugged his legs, and blatantly exposed the bulge at the front. Gold rings flashed in his nipples. Carlos had had them pierced for the show. Gold serpent armbands coiled up his upper arms, their heads pointing toward the spiked leather collar around his neck. He lifted a hand, showing that his fingers were covered with gold rings. He touched his own chest, running a claw lightly over the brown flesh in a slow circle.
Azzandar turned around in a slow, sinuous manner, and another gasp went up as the audience saw the tail jutting out from a hole in the backside of the leather pants. He lashed it as he looked over his shoulder at the watching people. Reaching up, he toyed with the brim of the fedora. ‘Don’t you want to see my face?’ he seemed to be saying. ‘You know you want to.’ Still holding the hat, Azzandar swiveled back around. His hips did another snake-like sway, and he lowered his head. The fedora was pulled away down to rest on his chest, then Azzandar lifted his face into the spotlight so that the audience could see his yellow-slitted eyes, pointed ears with their ruffle of fur, and the very sharp white teeth he displayed as he smiled like a shark. A low sound went through the club, then the audience began to clap in appreciation of the stripper’s exotic ‘costume’.
Azzandar acknowledged this acclaim with a dismissive little wave of his hand. He sneered at his audience sensually, telling them silently that they could look but not touch because they weren’t worthy. Azzandar strutted down the stage, with his claws hooked in the front of the leather pants. His tail twitched behind him. The audience had to be wondering how he was doing that, Chris thought dimly. He reached out blindly for the glass of water in front of him and gulped it down, to combat a sudden bout of extreme dry mouth. Azzandar stopped at the front of the stage and looked down on the humans gaping up at him, that sneer still firmly on his mouth. He crooked an arm behind his back, and slid his other hand titillatingly down the front of the leather pants. ‘Would you like me to take these off?’ he seemed to be asking silently. A roar of approval swept the club.
Azzandar lashed his tail and whirled around. He stalked to the pole set in the middle of the stage, stopping just short of it. His hands gathered in the front of the leather pants and ripped them away, tearing the Velcro sewn down the front seams. A gold thong was revealed, along with that amazingly sexy ass that Chris had seen far too much of for the last few weeks. A growl of approval from the audience as Azzandar glanced back over his shoulder at them, his eyes lidded and full of contempt. He walked forward two steps, and put a hand on the pole. He caressed it lightly, sensually, and everyone in the audience imagined that the pole wasn’t made of metal - and was attached to their bodies instead of the stage. Azzandar rubbed against the pole like a cat in heat, such a very appropriate gesture for a former feline…He twined around it, facing the audience once again. He leaned on the pole, his arms around it, his fingers stroking the metal. His cheek rubbed against the pole, as he gave the watchers a lidded look full of such sensuality that it was a wonder that every man in the club didn’t orgasm simultaneously.
Azzandar’s tongue darted out and licked a long trail down the metal of the pole. Groans broke out in a chorus. The cat-man’s long tail wrapped slowly around the pole, also stroking the metal. His body swayed slowly, hypnotically. He was making love to the pole, grinding his hips against it. A low hiss broke from his lips, and Chris found himself shivering in his seat. Dear God! He shouldn’t have come to this show, he thought wildly. Because it was going to be a wonder that he didn’t come AT this show!
Azzandar danced with the pole, sliding up and down it while swaying his hips. When he began gently humping it, moans broke from almost every pair of lips in the club. With a final grind, Azzandar crouched down on the floor. He began to crawl across the stage, slowly but surely. He was so utterly cat-like in this moment that it was a wonder no one realized that no human should be able to move like that. The yellow eyes turned left and right, pinning various gazes in the audience. Azzandar hissed again, showing his teeth in a wicked smile. Reaching the end of the stage, he crouched there and stretched his body gracefully in a long arch. He ended up lying on his belly. He humped the stage a little, lifting his hips. As the music rose to its crescendo, he rolled over so that he was lying on his side. Stretching his body out, he caressed the stage with his fingertips. At the same time, his tongue slowly slid out of his mouth, and he licked at the air provocatively. His yellow eyes gleamed savagely as the light began to go lower and lower. Then he was lost in shadows again, as the audience roared and clapped wildly.
The lights came up. Azzandar stood on the stage, looking down on them again. He flicked his tail contemptuously as he waited. People mobbed the stage, intent on stuffing money into the gold thong. Azzandar allowed this, but whenever anyone touched any other part of him he slapped their hands away and growled lowly. No one was allowed to touch him; he was above them all. Chris shook his head. Azzandar despised all of these humans, and they lapped it up. Azzandar finally stalked away into the wings without a backward glance. The crowd roared and cheered behind him again, and Carlos turned a gleaming smile on Chris. “I am going to be rich, my friend! I cannot thank you enough!”
“It was all Azzandar,” he called back.
“Verdad. Come on back to my office, will you?” Carlos rose to his feet, patting Fantasy’s curls and motioning for Pepe to stay and watch the place. Chris followed him through the jostling crowd to the office. Inside, he saw Azzandar lounging on Carlos’ leather couch. The cat-man was still only wearing the gold thong and the spiked collar, which made Chris feel more than a little light-headed.
“Azzandar,” he managed to croak. “You did really well.” The former demon sniffed, waving a clawed hand at him.
“Of course I did,” he sneered. “It is not that difficult to entice you wretched humans,” Carlos’ brows shot up at this statement.
Chris shot him a rather wild look. “Don’t you think that you need to stop being in character now, Azz?” he asked rather desperately. “You’re not on stage now.”
Azzandar glowered at him, but finally shrugged. “Fine,” he growled. “You’ll take me home now, Chris.” This imperious statement made Carlos blink, but Chris only nodded.
“Yes,” he replied. “But you need to go to the dressing room and put your clothes on. You can’t go outside wearing THAT,” he pointed in the general direction of the gold thong.
“As you wish. Here is the money that those impertinent fools gave me,” the cat-man handed Chris a very large wad of cash, the sight of which made him gulp heavily. “I will get dressed,” he stalked away toward the dancers’ dressing room, leaving Carlos and Chris behind him in the office.
“Your friend sure is…odd,” Carlos noted.
“Yeah, he is,” Chris agreed dryly, beginning to count the money in his hands. “More than you know.”
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