Catch the Thunder

A Cheap Motel

Freed walked out of the club, and he heard heavy boots striding just behind him. No one had ever called Freed short—he was taller than many of his friends, although not towering—however, standing next to this blond god, he felt tiny. He rushed to his car and hurriedly opened the passenger door for the burly strip dancer.

Sharp eyes glared down at him, sending a spiking thrill through Freed's nerves. "I can open a door by myself, ya know."

Freed's mouth opened, but the words caught like a scared mouse in a trap. "Th-The handle sometimes sticks," he said in an excuse, cringing that he was treating Thor with too much attention. A man like this would probably hate basic chivalry. He rushed around to the driver's side and slid in. He waited until Thor buckled his seat belt. Then he started up the engine and pulled out of the strip club's parking lot.

"Turn right," the blond said laconically. "Three lights down, make a left."

"Are we going somewhere?" Freed asked, making the turn onto the street.

"A little place I use. It's the cheapest motel in the city, hourly rates, more or less clean, rents ten bucks an hour to us strippers. That way our clients don't have to use up a crapload of money."

"I'm not a client," Freed insisted.

"Well, it's true that you didn't offer to pay me. I figured we'd work that out when we got there."

Freed's brows tightened. "I don't want to hire you."

"Then ya ain't getting much. I don't do shit for free."

Freed sighed in irritation and decided not to complain. He figured if he could just talk to this man, they could find some common interest, something that could make them friends. He wondered just how often Thor got clients, but he figured it was rude to ask. He probably did not want to know, anyway.

"What's after the left?" Freed asked as he came up to the light. Thor had his hand to his mouth. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I tend to get motion sickness in cars. I'll be fine once we get to the motel. Keep straight for a mile. Look on your right for the sign with a neon igloo. That's the one." He went quiet again with his hand fisted up and pressed to his mouth.

Freed smiled sympathetically. So, the almighty Thunder God got carsick, huh? He felt like he was learning new things about this man already.

Not long later, he saw a flickering motel sign. Pole Palace, and sure enough, there was an igloo in white neons with a suspiciously phallic North Pole. Freed parked the car, and the blond practically catapulted himself out of the vehicle. They went in together, entering a little foyer where Thor told the worker they wanted the hourly rate. Freed disliked that the worker seemed to know Thor by sight. Just how often had he come here?

"As usual, the corner room," the worker said, handing the blond a key. "One hour charged to your card now, sir," he said to Freed. "Additional hours are charged at the time you return the key. It's a twenty-four hour time limit. Good evening, sirs."

They walked out and passed by other motel rooms. Some had sensual moans coming out through the walls and windows.

"Prince ... nnngh, Prince."

"You're sensitive like usual, you pink bastard. Now, roar for me."

"No, not there. Your hands are too cold. Oh damn, so cold! So good! Oh God, that's ... ahhhhh!"

"That's the sexy sound I like to hear from you."

Freed toned out the groans coming out of almost every room. It was like walking past an orgy. (He had that experience once in college, a party he would rather forget ever happened.) He probably could end up just like all of them: a moaning voice in the night, paying for a release of sexual desires. Freed did not want that, though. The thought of hiring Thor, like some cheap prostitute, was repulsive to him. Thor was a god, not a hooker. He wanted to worship this man, bow to him, obey him, but he did not want to pay. He wanted Thor to want his adulation.