BABY GIGOLO.

Tangled.

Not getting what you want, could be the best thing that ever happened to you. We only realize it in hindsight.
Leon1692

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This is a three part story. I hope you will enjoy it. Thank you for reading.

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The Jukebox.

Winter came early, and the sun worshippers had packed their sunscreens and skimpy bikinis and chased after the sun to warmer climates. Cape Town, one of the top ten most beautiful cities in the world, and playground of the rich and famous at the height of summer was abandoned to the driving rain and lashing wind.

Winter in the city is harsh, and even the locals scurry like rats, burying themselves deep in their burroughs and only going outdoors when it is absolutely necessary. The angry wind howled through the empty streets, whistled around the corners of houses, rattled the windows and shutters, crept through the tiniest slits, while scaring its inhabitants and making them shiver by means of its brutal force and unrelenting onslaught.

The rain, its wicked partner took equal pleasure in following its partner in crime, and rejoiced at drenching anyone to the bone who dared to be outdoors.

This was the time to cozy up to a roaring fire with a loved one and roast chestnuts over its open flame, while sipping on hot chocolate, and thanking your lucky stars that your shelter held its own against the elements. But for some people, especially the single ones that are not so lucky, and despite the fact that they may have a solid house, a blazing fire and chestnuts ready for roasting, they lack that special someone to share it with. Those are the brave few that would venture outdoors in search of company, however brief and the human touch however temporary.

The wind and rain, having had their fun, and having spent their energies in their destructive and scary behavior heaved a great sigh. The wind was reduced to a whisper and the rain to a gentle mist.

It was eleven o'clock in the evening and in the slumbering city a gentleman had decided to go in search of the sights and sounds of human beings. In the densely packed overhanging dark clouds there appeared a tiny crack, and the moon, happy that it had caught a break and could fulfill its mandate, shone a single moonbeam onto the earth.

All was silent except for the unhurried footsteps of the man treading carefully but confidently over the glittering yet slippery cobblestones down a dark and narrow lane. His long black coat was buttoned up to his neck which was drawn into his shoulders. His wide-brimmed Fedora, which was slanted over his left eye, kept his hair dry, but parts of his face were covered by a thin layer of mist. He kept his slate-gray eyes fixed to the cobblestones and was grateful to the moonbeam for partially lighting his way. It did not matter too much because he knew where he was heading.

The lane which he traversed was situated in a part residential part commercial part on the fringe of the city. The neighborhood was rapidly falling into decay which invited the crooks and low-lifes to make it their hangout of choice. The lane itself was hemmed in by two tall buildings and the absence of streetlights contributed to the gloomy, miserable and sinister atmosphere. Given the hour of night and the weather conditions, the lane was not the ideal place to be in, but it was a shortcut to his destination and he did not expect anyone else to be outside. The man reached the end of the alley, and on the corner he stopped in front of a small green door whose paint had seen better days, turned the brass doorknob and stepped inside.