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Chapter Seven

The Cat's Meow

A large man, a lion, was standing beside a motorcycle in front of a club called, "The Cat's Meow". It wasn't just any club. The place was brightly lit with pink neon signs that read, "Young men" and "Live Nude" There were posters of male felines, all just over eighteen, or at least they said they were. No one visiting or living in Big Blue ever cared about the age of their strippers and escorts. Hank turned his bike off, took his helmet off, placing it in an attached case. He was finely dressed. Tailored suit. He didn't bother with a tie, he kept the top few buttons undone, the shirt untucked. He didn't want to look too much like a business man. The Deverginizer tucked safely away in his vest. He was here to pick up a young man. Someone hired by George, a human that would help Hank with his Loan Shark problem.

Hank sighed, walking into the club. The inside was dark, Jazz music played loudly, a sea of older rich women gawking at a young tiger who didn't look to have been older than sixteen pose and dance seductively for them in some skimpy outfit. Hank pulled a picture from his jacket, and examined the black house cat in the picture. Patrick was the stripper George got the deal with. Hank had to find him somewhere here. He walked to the bar, the man behind it looked uninterested. Hank sat down, ordered a drink, something George would always make him after sex.

After a couple drinks, Hank looked to the bartender and asked, "Is Patrick working tonight?"

The bartender nodded, "He'll be on stage in a few minutes. He's just been bought, though, so he's off the market." Hank nodded, turning around, the bartender muttered, "Lucky, if you ask me. Getting too old."

While Hank watched the strippers, Patrick was in his dressing room, sitting in just a white thong with a childish looking smilie face drawn on it. He was staring at the ceiling, spaced out. His glasses where on a counter next to a bag with a few days worth of clothes. He was still nervous about tomorrow. There was a beep and a voice came through a speaking in the wall, "Patty, you're up in five. Get ready."

He shook his head and brought himself out of his stupor. He got his outfit on. Tonight he was a "Sexy Army Guy" and there was nothing he hated more than stripping with the theme. He put on his fake smile and walked out his door, saying to himself, "This is really it. My last night.."

Hank was standing now, bored of being hit on by an elephant who was almost begging for a night alone with Hank. The naked cheetah who was probably one of the oldest strippers(around 23) had just finished his show and was heading back beyond the curtains to the praise of the crowd. The music stopped and another song started as Patrick made his way to the stage. He looked ridiculous in an outdated army uniform, everyone except Hank seemed to think it looked good. Patrick walked down the catwalk, throwing the jacket behind him, leaving him in the form fitting tank top. He walked a few feet before ripping off the cloth from his chest, it tore easily, but looked as if it was some feat of strength. He tossed it at the crowd, a few drunk middle aged women fought for it. Patrick smiled at the audience as he unbuckled his belt when he made it to the end of the stage. He kicked his far too big combat boots aside turning around, holding onto the pole in the stage, he bent over, groping his own ass as he slid the slowly down his legs, giving those watching a view of his nearly bare backside and the cloth holding his sex.

He turned around, looking over at the crowd posing for the women, getting on his knees as they put cash in his thong, most of them sneaking feels over his sheath. He pretended not to be disgusted and winked at the ones giving him money. He smiled at the audience and began to dance on the pole for them, stopping mid air to give the best view of his goods as he could allow without harming himself. He was dextrous and moved gracefully. Even Hank felt himself get a little red in the face watching him.

After his display to the crowd was over, he made a final attempt at cash by getting on his knees, getting his slightly more bulged package close to the women in the front row, letting them again put money in his thong to grope and molest him. He then got up, took the money from the small garment and rolled it all up in his white furred paws, then winked to the ones that tipped him, dropping the thong to the ground, and, as if to thank them for the money, he allowed himself to let a little red peak out from the otherwise completely black fur from his loins. He bent over slowly, swaying his hips and tail, to pick up the thong with his teeth With that, he slowly made his way the the curtains, giving everyone another eyeful to feed their eyes before disappearing behind the curtains.

There was another stripper, fully dressed, ready to get on stage. Patrick knew him as one of the new strippers. Somewhere in his mind, Patrick wanted to glare daggers at the boy. The younger you were, the more tips you got for putting on a show like he did. Patrick knew he wouldn't get as much now as he used to. But he needed the money too bad to care. He put the thong back on quickly, making his way back to his dressing room. When he opened the door, Hank followed him in. Hank locked the door behind him and said, "Patrick, right?"

Patrick put his glasses on and counted the money he made and said, "Yup, you're George's guy?"

Hank nodded, "Yeah, are you ready to go to George's place?"

"Sure, just let me shower real quick. I still have some questions about what we are doing."

Hank crossed the room and sat down on a big chair, "Please, take your time. I'll answer what I can." He leaned his head back and rested his eyes, "So, what do you want to know?"

Patrick tossed the one piece of clothing he had on to the side and started the shower, "What exactly are we doing? George just came to me and asked if I could be your escort for a space cruise. And he mentioned doing some things that were.." He paused to dip his head under the stream of the shower, "Morally questionable.."

Hank sighed, he didn't want to have to kill the kid if things got out of hand, "We are going to steal some diamonds from the guys that I owe money to."

The shower stopped, a moment later came Patrick, drying his fur off, still nude, "So, we're stealing from the bad guys?"

"Something like that, yeah." Replied Hank, looking over at Patrick, "Are you okay with that?"

The cat nodded, "Sure, it's not like I do any better. I've been a stripper since I was fifteen, I'll take anything over that." There was a silence for a moment. Patrick blushed, trying to think of a way to play down the outburst he just had.

Hank nodded, "Alrighty, then. Get dressed, we'll leave when you're ready."

Patrick grabbed some clothes from his bag, "I just have one rule."

"Shoot." Hank replied, resting his eyes again.

"I don't do sex stuff, and I don't kiss." Stated Patrick, putting boxers and jeans on.

Hank nodded, "Good, I wasn't intending to. I'm not a queer."

Patrick was taken back for a moment before he nervously said, "But you.. don't mind working with one, do you?"

"I don't care as long as I get paid." Shrugged Hank.

Patrick finished getting dressed in silence, cleaning his glasses before putting them on. He checked to make sure everything was in his bag, making sure his gun was kept safely hidden, along with all his cash he had made that week. Then asked, "How are we going to steal the diamonds?"

Hank shrugged, "There's a shopping area on the ship, once we are in orbit on Mars, the ship restocks with fuel and all the usual junk. You will be performing for the jeweler. He's into your thing. Then I go in and take shit."

"That simple?" asked Patrick.

Hank laughed, "Nothing is ever that simple. Let's just hope it goes half as well as expected."

Patrick nodded, "Okay, I'm ready."

Hank got out of the chair lazily and stretched, "Alright, let's get out of here."