Bananas | Hartwin

C R A Z Y

"Alright, lad. All you have to do is get a good look at Mr. Bemile so that we can take a scan of his eye and you'll be good," came Merlin's voice in Eggsy's ear, causing the youth to jump in surprise. Eggsy looked over his outfit in a mirror that was wrapped around the entrance to the nightclub be was stood in front of. He was wearing nothing but a simple all-black crop top that showed off his midriff, entirely too-tight skinny jeans, and a black military coat that went down to his ankles. He bit his lip then straightened himself out and took a deep breath.

Remember, you're Richie Barnes, 25 year-old professional boy-toy with a thing for rich, older men.

Not that far from the regular then, eh?

Eggsy plastered a smirk on his face and dramatically threw open the double doors of the nightclub he knew that Mr. Steve Bemile would be hanging around, widening the placement of his feet and biting his lip.

"Heeeeelloooo, boys!" he announced, prancing into the large, surprisingly quiet room. Most of the patrons inside turned towards him and looked him up and down, their eyes widening or their eyebrows raising. Their eyes drifted over Eggsy's body, the tightly fitting material of the crop top that hugged his pectorals, his exposed midriff and the v-line that dipped into his low-hanging and tight-fitting jeans. They practically gaped as he sashayed over to the bar and plopped down on one of the heavily decorated stools.

The bartender, a well-dressed younger bloke, probably around Eggsy's age, rolled his eyes playfully and bent over the counter, smiling at Eggsy.

"Quite the entrance you make, mister," he teased. Eggsy smirked and leaned forward a bit, teasing the amount of space between them.

"A proper prince always makes a proper entrance, yeah?" Eggsy winked, but his flirting was interrupted by a throat-clearing in his ear and a "your mission, Galahad" from Merlin. Eggsy winked and ordered himself a drink before turning the spinny-seat on the stool to look over the fairly small establishment. It was mostly open, the main floor turned into a dance floor covered in men and women of most ages. There was an upper level that was more like a balcony that wound around the walls of the building. There were rooms upon rooms decorating the upper level, either open with a visible metal pole in the middle of the room and couches surrounding it, or closed, the view obscured by heavy, red curtains. Eggsy's eyes followed a young man pulling an older man up the stairs that led to the upper level, then around the upper floor and into one of the rooms. Eggsy snickered as he watched the younger purposely bend over more than necessary as he closed the curtains from the inside, and that was it.

The music in the place was loud and thumping, and Eggsy found himself absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his pint. He waited a few moments before Merlin spoke up again.

"He's situated in a private booth at the very back of the establishment. You're gonna have to charm your way over to him," Merlin said. There was a quiet groan and then the transmission went silent. Eggsy smiled and got up, smiling at the bartender, then slithered across the dance floor and towards the private booths at the back of the club. He licked his lips and swayed his hips, opening his jacket up and flashing more bits of skin, until he was standing in front of a large booth with a small table sitting in the middle, covered in empty glasses of all sizes. Eggsy produced a fake giggle and leant against the edge of one of the seats, swaying his hips a bit as he stared at the man who was sat directly across from the entrance to the booth; Steve Bemile.

"Hiya," he greeted cutely, biting his bottom lip. The other two men in the booth perked up, their eyes devouring Eggsy's image. Eggsy crossed one of his legs in front of the other, childishly playing with one of the buttons on his coat. "You all look a tad lonely."