Baton Rouge

- 5 -

Draco had made himself reasonably comfortable on a red velvet lounge. His first drink already sat in front of him (Blaise insisted on paying for that one too), although Draco wasn't sure if he really should have another one.

In the pub they had drained the Firewhisky bottle down to the last drop and in the warm salon the alcohol had gone considerably to Draco's head. It felt like he was about to either fall asleep soon or say something inappropriate. Both seemed equally embarrassing to him and he lazily tried to focus on Blaise's words. His friend talked non-stop and, unlike Draco, didn't seem to feel the whisky at all.

"Oh, here we go," Blaise said happily at that moment, reaching for his glass as the room darkened a bit and the spotlights were now mostly illuminating the stage. Draco sat up heavily and craned his neck a little. Now that he was here, he at least wanted to see what was happening up there. He had to admit that Blaise had intrigued him. And the whole club itself promised a good show if the extravagant getup could be relied upon.

Two long-legged beauties strutted onto the stage, clutching the iron poles in its midst. There were many things that Draco hadn't expected about this. For example, the ladies were neither naked nor incredibly scantily clad, but dressed in sparkling costumes adorned with feathers, more reminiscent of a burlesque show or a circus. Also, Draco's image of a prostitute was limited to drug-addicted, worn-out girls, whom he probably wouldn't even have touched with a barge pole. But the two women on stage were actually very attractive. He might even have turned to look at them if he met them on the street.

"You know what irritates you about that?" Blaise asked mischievously. He had apparently noticed Draco's facial expression change. "Most of them would probably never be here if the Dark Lord wasn't in power. I heard two co-workers talk about it recently - now it's mostly muggleborns or halfbloods who have to do something like this because they just don't have a choice. Most of them have exactly the same education as you and me. They weren't born in the gutter. That's why you're so surprised."

Blaise grinned smugly, knowing he had hit the mark. Draco gave him a thoughtful look. Partly because he hadn't really been aware of these facts, and partly because he was shocked that Blaise seemed to know the milieu very well, even if he supposedly got his information from overheard conversations of some acquaintances and friends. Draco didn't know if he wanted to believe that - or even could.

For a few minutes they just stared at the stage and took in the spectacle. The girls danced well and one of them also started to undress, but Draco had to admit that the mood in the salon was relaxed and actually even pleasant. Most of the men were chatting or eating. There were no dirty heckles, and Draco felt unexpectedly at ease. He had finished his drink, but he felt a little better because Blaise had also ordered some snacks, which Draco was now constantly scoffing into himself.

"I'll get another whisky," Blaise said, preparing to stand up. Draco protested and took the empty glasses from him.

"No way. Next round is on me. You funded the whole evening," he said firmly, standing before Blaise could even open his mouth. "I'll be right back." He grinned and tried to get to the large bar, where several other people were already seated, without a telltale sway.

He was relieved when he reached the bar unharmed, and pushed the empty glasses across the scratched wood with one hand, waiting for the bartender to face him.

"Two more of those," he said, trying to drown out the music and pointing to the empty glasses. The barman nodded to show his order had been taken and went on with his business.

While Draco waited, he braced himself on the bar with his elbows and occasionally glanced at the stage. His gaze grazed a curly shock of light brown hair. It was apparently one of the dancers who was sitting at the bar trying to get a job for the night. For advertising purposes, so to speak. Draco had to grin as this thought raced through his mind. Apparently the alcohol had gotten to him more than he had previously thought. He felt somehow intoxicated and carefree.