Club Fang

Fang's hand, resting on Kev's shoulder, began to gently rub his chest in a soothing motion. Kev, his body responding to the unexpected touch, leaned into Fang's warmth, a sense of contentment washing over him. The subtle intimacy of the gesture, the silent communication of affection and desire, sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

Just then, the air shifted, a new presence entering the VIP section. Lanon, the manager in charge of "personal relations," sauntered towards their table, his movements fluid and confident. He was an iguana man, his scales a vibrant mix of emerald green and sapphire blue. He wore a black fitted leather ensemble that accentuated his toned physique, every inch of him radiating an air of sensual sophistication.

Lanon slid into the empty seat across from them, his sharp, reptilian eyes taking in the scene with a knowing smile. "Well, well, well," he purred, his voice smooth and seductive. "Looks like we've successfully found you an assistant."

Lanon's long tail twitched and flicked rhythmically as he spoke, a subtle display of his excitement. Fang, ever the professional, performed the introductions. "Lanon, this is Kev, my new personal assistant. Kev, meet Lanon, our manager of personal relations."

Lanon's gaze lingered on Kev, his smile widening, revealing a set of sharp, reptilian teeth. "A human or so I've been told," he mused, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Quite the unique specimen."

Fang chuckled, a possessive arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "Hands off, Lanon. He's mine."

Lanon laughed, his tail flicking playfully. "Just admiring, boss," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, how are things going? Is everything running smoothly?"

Fang nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Things are moving in the right direction," he said. "Another week or two, and we'll have some exciting new business opportunities."

Lanon's interest piqued. "And what might the nature of these opportunities be?" he inquired, leaning forward slightly.

"Private parties for VIPs," Fang revealed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "High-profile clientele, deep pockets, and a desire for absolute discretion."

He winked at Lanon. "We'll have some extra revenue soon, so if you need to hire some... specialized talent to cater to their specific tastes, that shouldn't be an issue."

Lanon's smile broadened, revealing even more of his sharp teeth. "That should be fun," he purred, his tail flicking excitedly. "Just make sure you give me all the information you can about each event, so I can create the most... transformative experiences for our guests."

Lanon leaned back in his chair and stretched languidly. "Is there anything else you require of me at the moment, boss?" he inquired, his voice smooth and deferential.

Fang shook his head, a hint of dismissal in his tone. "No, Lanon, you're free to go. Keep up the good work."

Lanon rose to his feet, but before he could take a step, he turned back to Fang, his gaze pointedly ignoring Kev. "One more thing," he said, his voice curious. "Is your new assistant... allowed in the private rooms?"

Fang's brow furrowed, a flicker of conflict crossing his face. He didn't want to control Kev's movements, didn't want to stifle his freedom and risk scaring him away. But a primal possessiveness surged within him, a desire to protect Kev from the darker side of the club quickly outweighed any other choice.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No," he said firmly, his voice carrying a hint of finality. "This little guy wouldn't have a very good time. I think they'd be a bit too... rough on him."

Kev's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of disappointment and relief washing over him. He wasn't sure how to react to Fang's protective stance, but he couldn't deny a flutter of warmth in his chest at the thought of the wolfman looking out for him.

Lanon nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Very good, sir," he purred. "I'll inform my people to keep an eye out for him and make sure he stays safe." With a final glance at Kev, he turned and disappeared through the closed door leading to the mysterious east wing, his sinuous movements leaving a lingering impression of sensuality and intrigue.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, Fang and Kev enjoying the lull in activity before the club's nightly transformation. The piano music had shifted to a more mellow tune, creating a soothing ambiance in the VIP section. Just as Kev was contemplating refilling his glass, a burst of vibrant color and energy filled the booth.

Asmodeus, the entertainment manager, made his grand entrance. The toucan man was a spectacle to behold, his plumage a riot of vivid blues, yellows, and reds that seemed to defy the dim lighting. His clothes, equally flamboyant, shimmered and sparkled with every movement. He swept into the booth with a flourish, his long beak held high in the air, his presence demanding attention.

Kev, still impressed by the earlier piano performance, couldn't help but express his admiration. "Your set was amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "That fast waltz sounded incredibly crisp."

Asmodeus preened, his feathers ruffling slightly. "I like this one," he declared, his voice a melodious trill, gesturing towards Kev with his wing. He turned to Fang, his eyes twinkling with approval. "He has good taste."

Then, fixing his gaze on Kev, he inquired, "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Kev, a bit overwhelmed by the toucan's flamboyance, managed a polite smile. "I'm Kev," he introduced himself. "Fang's new assistant."

Asmodeus's question was quick and decisive, "how long have you been practicing piano, my dear?" 

Kev chuckled, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips. "I'm afraid the piano isn't my forte," he admitted. "I dabble in a few other instruments, but I've never had the patience for the keys."

Asmodeus nodded sagely, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, a fellow musician," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I had practiced for fifteen years before performing for another fifteen. It takes dedication, discipline, and a touch of madness to master this instrument."

"I can tell you've put in the work," Kev replied, his admiration evident in his voice.

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the booth. "The bird's naturally talented," he interjected, a hint of teasing in his tone. "He could probably play a symphony on a washboard if he wanted to."

Asmodeus, seemingly oblivious to Fang's comment, continued his conversation with Kev. "And what is your instrument of choice, my dear?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"Drums were my first love," Kev confessed, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "I'm most comfortable behind a kit, but let's be honest, no one wants to hear a solo drummer." He chuckled softly. "So, I picked up the guitar a while back. Been practicing for a little over ten years now."

Asmodeus's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Guitar," he mused, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Wasting so many years on a beginner's instrument."

Kev's smile faltered, a sting of hurt pricking at his pride. He'd always considered himself a decent guitarist, but Asmodeus's dismissive tone made him question his own passions. Still, he pushed aside the momentary insecurity and pressed on.

"Were any of the pieces you played tonight originals?" he asked, his curiosity outweighing his wounded ego.

Asmodeus shook his head, his feathers rustling slightly. "No, my dear," he replied, his voice regaining its usual melodramatic flair. "I merely interpret the stories that the true masters have written. My role is to bring their visions to life, to infuse their notes with my own passion and artistry."

 "It would be nice to play guitar again," Kev admitted, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.

Asmodeus waved a dismissive wing. "That's no issue," he said, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll have one made available to you. I'm sure we must have some children's scale models around somewhere."

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Or, if you'd prefer, I could teach you a real instrument. The violin, perhaps? Or the piano?"

Kev laughed, shaking his head. "Music is just a hobby for me," he explained. "A way to relax, to meditate. I'm not looking to become a virtuoso."

Asmodeus nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I can respect that," he said, his tone softening. "The stage is not meant for everyone. Some find solace in the shadows, in the quiet creation of melodies that touch the soul."

He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "I would be most interested to hear some of your... human music, when you get the chance," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "I always enjoy experiencing different regions' and cultures' interpretations of the limited eight notes."

Asmodeus extended a hand, his long, colorful feathers brushing against Kev's arm. "I'll call for you tomorrow, with your guitar," he promised, his voice a melodic trill.

Kev reached out to shake his hand, but Asmodeus, with a flourish, brought Kev's hand to his beak and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "Until then, my dear," he said, before rising gracefully from his seat and departing the VIP section, leaving a trail of vibrant colors in his wake.

Kev, a bit flustered by the unexpected gesture, looked up at Fang with a sheepish smile. "Sorry for taking over the conversation," he apologized.

Fang chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the booth. "Not a problem at all," he assured Kev. "Asmodeus is... quite eccentric. The fact that he held any sort of conversation with us is impressive in itself. He usually prefers the company of his instruments."

Fang took a sip of his drink and continued, "Asmodeus plays here every night," he explained, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. "He leads the bands or performs solo, depending on the mood. The bird can play nearly any instrument you can think of, from the grand piano to the most obscure ethnic flute, and he's even been known to belt out a surprisingly soulful tune on occasion. It's a true spectacle, watching him in his element."

He paused, his gaze drifting towards the stage where the piano now sat silent, its keys waiting for Asmodeus's return. "He can be quite the perfectionist though. Throws a tantrum if a musician misses a note or a singer's pitch is off. We've had broken instruments, shattered glasses, even a few feathers flying on those nights."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "And you put up with that?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Fang shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Could have a meltdown every month for all I care," he admitted. "His skill is the real deal, and trying to replace him would be a nightmare. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "it adds a certain... unpredictable charm to the place."

Kev nodded slowly, still trying to reconcile the image of the flamboyant, passionate Asmodeus with the temperamental diva Fang had described. But then again, he thought, perhaps that was part of the allure. The club thrived on its unique blend of personalities, its ability to cater to every desire, no matter how unconventional. And Asmodeus, with his undeniable talent and unpredictable outbursts, was undoubtedly a key ingredient in that intoxicating mix.

"He seemed nice enough," Kev offered tentatively, recalling the toucan's genuine interest in his musical background.

Fang's smile widened. "He can be, when he wants to be," he replied. "But don't let his charm fool you. He can be dangerous, both on and off the stage."

Kev, reflecting on the evening's introductions, couldn't help but express his admiration. "You've got a really good team, Fang," he said sincerely. "Everyone seems so dedicated and talented."

Fang nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I hold my staff to a high standard, Kev," he explained. "This club isn't just a job, it's my life's work, and I won't settle for anything less than excellence." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the barroom. "There are many more wonderful employees here, but the management team was the most important for you to meet. They're the ones you'll be interacting with most often."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, a frown creasing his brow. "It's getting late, Kev," he said, his voice softening. "You should head to bed. You've had a long day."

Kev, emboldened by the intimacy they'd shared earlier in the car (along with Dale's strong drinks), leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Fang's cheek. "You too," he whispered, his voice husky. "Do you want to call it a night as well? We could go upstairs together."

A flicker of conflict crossed Fang's face. The temptation to accept Kev's invitation was strong, but he knew he had responsibilities to attend to. He couldn't simply abandon the club, not when the night was still young and the energy was palpable.

"Not tonight, Kev," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I need to make sure everything runs smoothly. But soon," he added, his eyes locking with Kev's, a promise in their depths, "soon."

Kev, a mix of disappointment and understanding swirling within him, bid Fang goodnight and made his way back upstairs alone. The quiet of the second floor was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the club below, a reminder of the duality of his new life.

He entered his apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and security. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind. The introductions, the conversations, the stolen moments with Fang... it had been a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him both exhilarated and exhausted.

With a sigh, Kev stubbed out his cigarette and prepared for bed. As he lay in the darkness, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, he couldn't help but think about Fang's promise. "Soon," the wolfman had said, his voice filled with a longing that mirrored Kev's own.

Kev closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He didn't know what the future held, but for the first time since his arrival in this strange new world, he felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this unexpected journey wasn't so bad after all.