Chapter Text
It's 5:00 on a Friday night and the sun is just beginning to set over Blackwater Bay.
This is Arthur's favourite route to work, on the back of his beloved Harley Davidson Sportster named Boudicea, driving through the streets of the little lakeside town. People were just getting off work, pouring out of revolving doors only to make their way down the street to their favourite watering hole, just as the sun began to inch closer and closer to the horizon. The 5:15 ferry from Saint Denis was coming in, ready to bring people home from the big city. Folks were already out on the pier, beginning their weekends with dinner, drink and laughter and the sky, that beautiful orange sky just made the city sing with the spring breeze against his face playing all the right notes.
He may have been on his way to his shift, but this was the part that was nice; calm even. He'd see it again once he clocked out for the night, watching that sun peek back up over Flat Iron Lake once everyone left behind the neon signs and spotlights, all heading home like Cinderella after the ball.
A bit of respite for the inevitable chaos that normally came his way on a Friday night. So long as there were no Laramies or Skinners or god forbid O'Driscolls showing up, it was gonna be an okay night.
It wasn't far now until he pulled up to his destination, seeing the bright Pepto-pink glow of Dutch's Dolls, the biggest and best strip club this side of Flat Iron as he turned the corner.
Normally Friday Night was the biggest night of the week for the Dolls; unique in that male strippers were granted just as much stage space as female dancers, Fridays drew in some of the biggest crowds. With the train station as well as the pier, folks from as far as Annesburg would come down just to catch a glimpse of the beauties on the poles, on the stage and in the VIP rooms once their working week was done and dusted.
Those mining guys sure were an excitable bunch once they were back out in the open, never mind when they were surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women and men. Either way the club was there to cater to every desire a customer might ask for, provided their pants stayed on and their hands were kept to themselves.
And for Arthur Morgan, the Head of Security at Dutch's Dolls, it meant being on high alert from sunset to sunrise. On paper it should be the best job in the world for someone who was into both men and women. These days however, it was wrangling drunks, breaking up fights, checking IDs, collecting cover charges, grabbing floss for the dancers, reminding punters of what happens if they decide to get handsy.
Funny how one man's dream job was a chore for another.
This called for a smoke before the night really kicked off. Odds are he'd come in and have to touch base with Dutch and Hosea, maybe have a group huddle with Bill and Charles before one of them worked the door, but he'd need just a moment to himself before the action began. Just a moment before he had to get into character as a big, bad bouncer.
He pulled into his space, the car park already littered with cars. Many looked familiar; Dutch's white Maserati GranCabrio was hard to miss, but many weren't. Seems the punters were already securing their spot, trying to be the first in line.
Arthur unclipped his helmet, running his hand through his hair. He already needed a clip at the barber, there was no need to walk in looking like one of the Muppets.
A bus came rolling in, pulling up to the bus stop just out the front of the club. Arthur half expected that a bunch of barely legal schoolboys with fake IDs and no sense would come pouring out.
Instead a young, waifish man with long black hair, dressed in jeans and some band t-shirt covered with a black jacket hopped off. It looked like the man's neckline came down right to the middle of his chest, exposing a little black smattering of chest hair.
In the glimpse he caught of the young man, he'd say he looked kinda cute.
The young man walked towards the door, presumably to line up. Damn, he was keen. The club didn't open for another hour and a half at least.
It was when he reached for the long, vertical handles that alarm bells began going off in Arthur's mind. At best, he was trying to get in without paying the cover. At worst, he could've been some jilted ex boyfriend just ready to stir up trouble with one of the dancers.
Either way, Arthur couldn't have that.
"Whoa feller, openin' ain't until 7, you're gonna have to wait like everyone else."
The young man turned to him, somewhat startled. "Sorry feller, I'm lookin' for Dutch Van Der Linde."
Arthur stepped on his back foot. It seemed everyone this side of the Lannahechee wanted Dutch Van Der Linde, the man with the plan.
Up close, the young man had a few faint scars along his right cheek, made all the more obvious by a five o'clock shadow. His eyes were somewhere between a grey and a brown, either way as deep as the beautiful lake upon which the club overlooked. He couldn't have been more than 24, with a tapered, elven quality to his jaw that made him look slight; delicate even underneath the gritty dress sense.
If he weren't so clouded by suspicion, he'd say the young man was handsome.
"You collectin' a debt?" Arthur asked.
"No sir."
"You O'Driscoll?"
There'd been an uptick of Colm's boys trying to make their way into the Dolls lately; Colm ran Hell's Belles just out of Strawberry in Big Valley. Being that close to one another, what should've been friendly competition between two businesses in the business of adult entertainment had long descended into a bitter rivalry, both fighting over the eyes and wallets of the fine folk of West Elizabeth.
Arthur thought it might have something to do with Colm laying hands on Dutch's second ex wife, Annabelle as ever since, he seemed to make it everyone's problem. Still, he was clear; no O'Driscolls of any kind were to set foot in Dutch's Dolls no matter how many presidents they had in their back pocket.
"No sir....Name's Marston actually." The young man chuckled, running a hand back through his hair. "I'm here 'bout a job. Interview's at 5:30 with a Mr Dutch Van Der Linde."
Arthur felt like a prized idiot. He'd completely forgotten about the interviews. They'd been looking for new talent since Jenny went off to give birth; it was one thing to make good tips as a dancer- there were enough men out there who just loved seeing a pregnant girl on the floor. However, it was another to be in her third trimester and about to drop during Happy Hour.
That left a space to be filled as the customers always hungered for the newest young thing on that stage.
"First thing's first. Arm's up."
Marston held his arms out, making a T shape while Arthur stretched out his fingers. Arthur patted him down, trying to keep his fingers attuned for any concealed blades, guns, anything that could be considered a weapon. All he found was that looks were deceiving; he was thin, yes but he was muscular underneath.
Still, no weapons to be found.
Arthur stood up, not wanting to linger too long lest he give the wrong impression. "You wanna go upstairs and to the left; you're lookin' for a bright pink door. The big man should be up there."
The young man smiled a gentle smile. "Thanks Mister. What's your name?"
"Arthur Morgan," he said, tucking his thumbs into the side of his pants. "Security."
"John. Marston. Hopefully I'll be seein' you round."
The young man didn't know it, but the Head of Security for Dutch's Dolls thought the exact same thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sight of Dutch's Dolls from the inside wasn't anything like what it was when it was in full swing; no lights, no music, no bills being thrown, no drunk patrons being obnoxious. It was just employees, all scuttling about, trying to get the night ready. Lenny, Sadie and Sean were behind the bar, restocking bottles for the night while Abigail and Karen were against it, chatting to them in yoga pants and sweatshirts.
There'd be plenty of time for glitz, glamour, Pleasers and floss later. For now, Arthur just had John in front of him lingering for a moment until Abigail turned, watching her face light up at his presence.
"Hey Arth-Oh my god, biiiiiiitch!" She squealed, running over and wrapping her arms around him, shaking him in a dance of a hug. "You finally made it!!!"
He could hear John chuckle. "Good to see ya Abi....yeah....I need a job."
The young man almost sounded a little nervous as Arthur walked over to the bar. He couldn't blame John for it of course; Dutch was a man whose reputation preceded him from the desert to the wilderness, through the mountains, plains and swamp. Even the fancy-pants muckety-mucks in Saint Denis stood to attention when he was mentioned.
Still, the fact that he was recognised and hugged tightly by one of the star dancers of Dutch's Dolls probably meant that he wasn't any danger.
The Head of Security leaned against the bar, seeing the blonde hair of Sadie in the corner of his eye.
"Hey there handsome," he chuckled at this term of endearment. "Want your usual?"
"Thank you Miss Adler."
She rolled her eyes. "You are too much, Arthur; c'mon, we've worked for god knows how long now? You can call me Sadie."
Arthur smiled bashfully; despite his surroundings, despite how he paid his bills, he still tried to be a gentleman as much as possible. The customers could become really drunk, loud, obnoxious and entitled when they wanted to be and working behind the bar did not save folks from trying to push the boundaries of those who weren't there to entertain.
The least he could do was be different from all that.
Sadie came back with a Roy Rogers in hand, finished off with a maraschino cherry. He dipped his head, giving her a wordless Thank You before throwing back the drink. He might not have been able to drink on the job, but she thankfully made sobriety a lot more interesting.
Abigail came up with John's hand in hers and a hopeful, bright look in her eye.
"Babe, this is John! This is the one I was telling you about!"
Arthur took note while he savoured his drink; so John knew Abi well enough for Abi to introduce her to her girlfriend.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss." John responded, almost unable to make eye contact with the blonde behind the bar.
Sadie looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "So, you're the ex who's come back to steal my girl?"
Arthur felt like an innocent bystander to a stick-up or a bar fight. This must've been how the audience felt on Springer back in the day.
John was lost for words. "I mean...it was back in high school, we was kids....."
Abi rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, she is kidding; Sadie is yankin' your chain."
Arthur turned to Sadie, who was now grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Nice to meet you Sugar, I'm Sadie." She held out her hand over the bar, shaking John's. "Abi's told me 'bout you; heard you're looking for a job?"
"Yeah...." John scratched the back of his head. "Got my interview in 'bout 10 minutes."
"You goin' for bar, housekeeping, waitstaff or talent?"
Arthur couldn't help but grumble; he didn't realise that there were so many spots open but none of them for Security. He, Bill and Charles had their work cut out for them most nights; couldn't Dutch or Hosea throw some staff their way?
"Uh, talent. Heard the money ain't too bad and I've got a few moves."
Sean and Lenny's ear's pricked up, mouth guffawing into an "Ooooh!" while Sadie chuckled. They were shaking their heads as they cleaned out glasses. Arthur knew exactly why.
"Ooh, don't let Javier get wind o' that. He's the men's star dancer 'round these parts....He might butt horns with ya, if all goes well." Arthur said, taking another sip of his drink.
"Well I don't wanna step on no one's toes or nothin', I just need some income."
Man, he even sounded cute too. Like a fine whiskey infused with cedar wood smoke, his tones gravelly. His voice shouldn't match this thin frame and young face; he looked like he'd be 120 pounds soaking wet and yet, he felt like he was hiding muscles underneath his worn clothes and nervous demeanour.
He was better looking than Arthur; the years had been kinder than some. While Arthur did cut enough of an intimidating figure to scare off the dregs of the club, he wasn't as shredded as he once was. His affinity for a relaxing beer after a hard day was beginning to show around his mid-section, even if he still had some muscle around his biceps. This guy in front, John....John was gorgeous, with his dark hair and scars. He'd clearly lived a life.
While Arthur had been around enough dancers to barely register the sight of bare flesh under the spotlight, maybe he'd have to take a minute to watch this guy strut his stuff.
"Arthur!" He heard behind him. Hosea was standing on the mezzanine, surveying his castle.
See, Dutch may have been the face and the name of Dutch's Dolls, but the real brains of the operation was the thin silver-haired man standing over the balcony; Hosea Matthews. Businessman, entrepreneur, loving husband to Bessie for over 30 years and the best surrogate father Arthur could ask for. Hosea was smart enough to keep his name off of the front door and the signs, but was every part the steering wheel of this machine as Dutch.
And right now, he was looking flustered.
"Arthur, dear boy; are you able to head on into the showers? We've got a leaking faucet that's about to wash us out into Blackwater Bay and can't get a plumber until tomorrow morning. Susan's gonna raise hell about it if it's not fixed before open."
Another reason to grumble. Due to being the closest thing Hosea had to a son, that also meant that Arthur was the go-to guy for any kind of maintenance issue that they either couldn't or wouldn't pay for. While he was running around playing handyman, errand boy or Big Bad in the Black Shirt, he couldn't tend to what needed tending to; maybe fixing some of the security issues or replacing the cameras that had him running around like a madman.
If he had more staff in his department, maybe it wouldn't be so damn taxing.
"'M on it." He muttered.
Hosea leaned out, his eyes on John, sizing him up. "Who are you son?"
"Oh, I'm John. Marston. I've got an interview at 5:30."
Hosea's demeanour lightened like he'd just caught up on where he was meant to be. "Ah, of course! Head on up and we'll get started."
John straightened himself up, encouraged by Abi whispering Good Luck as he made his way up the stairs. As one foot set in front of the other, Arthur's eyes found the younger man's ass, his hips swaying hypnotically as he moved.
He swallowed. He really was no better than the customers, salivating over the dancers. It was time to sort out that leaking faucet before he became a drooling mess on the dance floor himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The faucet itself was no real issue; just needed some tightening with a wrench, but it was best to stay on the good side of Ms Grimshaw, Dutch's first ex wife. While it would always be lost on him as to why she hung around this place, she seemed to really care about the dancers. Maybe it had something to do with being an ex-dancer herself. Maybe part of her alimony was that she had a job for life at the Dolls. Either way, Ex Wife #1 was a formidable force, even from behind the stage.
He made his way back out to the Main Stage, catching sight of Josiah walking in half dressed with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He was in his makeup required for Aunt Joelene; the glittery, high-heeled, big haired emcee and DJ for Dutch's Dolls. However he was only half dressed; the top half him was all Joelene, breastplate and all, only the bottom half was sweatpants and sneakers. His wig wasn't on either.
He looked like he was trying to summon whatever energy he could muster to get into drag for another night behind the booth.
"Ain't no smoking on the floor, even if you are the one spinnin' the tunes. Put it out before Hosea sees you." Arthur chipped.
Josiah sighed, inhaling hard before grabbing a dirty glass to stub it out. "Forgive me dear boy, I simply had the roughest night's sleep! Barely even got my face on before having to head out the door."
Arthur knew exactly why Josiah was tired. "Uh-huh. Grindr or Scruff this time?"
Josiah smirked sheepishly. He wasn't even remotely sorry for rolling up to work in a state. "Can't remember but god, it was such fun!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Some people had all the damn luck. "Fun or not, you need to get Aunt Joelene on before those lights come up."
Josiah nodded, making his way to the dressing room. For a minute, he looked like another cog in the machine that was well on its way to spinning as it should.
That was until the big pink door of the manager's office swung open with John exiting out onto the mezzanine, followed closely by Hosea and Dutch. It was hard to tell by the look on their faces whether his interview went well or not.
"Arthur! Where's Josiah?" Dutch shouted.
He was a little disheartened, thinking Hello to you too, Boss.
"I'm right here my darling!" Josiah trilled, backtracking back out to the dance floor.
The three men walked down the stairs with Dutch still yelling over the bannister.
"Josiah, we need you on the decks. We've got an audition coming up for...what's your name again, son?"
"Just John." The young man responded, the first one on the floor.
Dutch stood on his back foot, looking down at him. "While you're onstage, think of something a bit better. If this goes well, we'll need somethin' snappier than just Just John to put up."
He nodded, taking in the club namesake's advice.
"Now, up on that stage. Want you doin' a striptease. If you ain't comfortable gettin' your clothes off onstage then this ain't the gig for you. This ain't Hell's Belles, we don't just accept any run-down thing for our main stage."
Arthur chuckled. If he had a nickel for the amount of times Dutch took the opportunity to make a dig at Colm O'Driscoll or Hell's Belles, he wouldn't have to work at the Dolls.
John looked a little skittish; was he really being asked to perform here and now? He'd barely exchanged his details.
"Uh, I ain't got nothin'...sexy on 'neath all this." The young man pulled at his jacket and shirt to emphasise his point.
Hosea was already shaking his head. "Ain't about that son; we can set you up with some floss later. We just need to see how you entertain the audience. If you can do it in your civilian clothes, you'll be able to do it in anything. If you can charm us then we can work on getting you some dance wear."
Arthur had to hand it to Hosea; he'd been in the business long enough to separate who was a true performer from who was just a pretty face or a gorgeous body.
Hosea had already pulled up a seat next to Dutch while the club's namesake just stared at John. "Well don't be shy! This is the job description. We want to see moves. You're here to entertain the patrons, not stand on ceremony! At least you're only auditioning in front of family."
Both managers were seated front and centre from the stage while John stood like a deer in the headlights. Arthur leaned against the wall; this wasn't a good start if he was planning on earning money stripping.
"Uh, ok. "He turned to Josiah. "You got Bad Things by Jace Everett?"
Josiah clicked the keys of his laptop. "I'm sure I can find it in my collection!"
"Ok. I want that one, please."
He walked back out into the middle of the stage, just in front of one of the main poles bolted into it. He took a few deep breaths, most likely trying to calm his nerves before his first dealbreaker dance; the one that would decide if he would become a paid dancer or be kicked to the curb, left to scour the apps for another minimum-wage hustle.
There was a part of Arthur that felt for the kid; it wasn't easy getting a job in this economy. While Arthur himself hadn't struggled with finding gainful employment; being a big, burly guy who wasn't afraid to beat up assholes for money meant he'd found his moneymaking niche until he truly got his shit together, it was hard watching younger people struggle so hard to scrape together the bare minimum.
And now here he was, onstage and looking like he was failing to contain his nerves.
Arthur leaned against the wall next to the front foyer, priming himself for a performance. This was gonna be interesting.
A few more clicks of Josiah's laptop and the guitar-twang of the song's intro reverberated throughout the club. John took one last huff of breath.
Showtime.
The guitars played and with a fierce determination in his eye, John began to shimmy his shoulders, slowly shaking off his leather jacket. It fell around his waist like he was a burlesque dancer, looking up with a doe eyed look that made Arthur hot under the collar of his shirt.
When you came in, the air went out
And every shadow filled up with doubt
John had a little swish to his hips, around and around, getting wider and wider before dropping to the floor, stretching out his legs like he were in a body of water, trying to propel himself through the waves.
I don't know who you think you are
But before the night is through
He crawled towards the edge of the stage, never once taking his eyes off Dutch and Hosea.
I wanna do bad things with you
He threw himself upwards, getting onto his knees before suggestively thrusting his hips into the air. He played with the lower hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it to reveal a set of abs with a neat little trail of black hair leading down between them, tucking in behind the fly of his pants. On his hips just below his bellybutton sat two black paw prints, leading down towards his crotch.
'Where I'm from, they call them cum gutters', Arthur thought to himself before shaking the thought away.
As far as Arthur was concerned, he had nothing to be nervous about; the boy was a natural and looked like he needed a guitar in his hand or something.
Before he knew it, he was back up on his feet and his shirt was off; thrown right into the middle of Dutch and Hosea's seats. Arthur could see the two older men whispering to one another, all the while not taking their eyes off the new prospective performer. In the corner of his eye, Abi was standing outside of the dressing room with all of the nerves of a stage parent at a sporting event.
All the while, John showed off his chest and arms with ease; adorned in a giant wolf sleeve tattoo and different sized scars across his pecs and abs, he looked like a wildman.
John strutted over to the pole, putting his hand on it and circling around it; dropping down low before rising up slowly but surely, teasing everyone in the room.
I'm the kind to sit up in his room
Heart sick and eyes filled up with blue
He did a little shake of his hips before looping his right leg around, swinging around the pole a few times before landing in front of it like it was nothing. Still swinging his hips around in what looked like an infinity symbol, he unbuttoned his fly, slowly shimmying the denim down to reveal a brick-red pair of boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination.
If anyone asked, he wouldn't admit it. However the sight of this smoking hot man in barely anything made Arthur's breath hitch in his throat in a way that hadn't happened in quite some time.
I don't know what you've done to me
But I know this much is true
John turned back to the pole, this time wrapping both legs around it, climbing up little by little, using the grip of his thighs to do most of the work. What really took everyone by surprise was how he leaned back down, holding out his hands in midair like a bat before flipping back onto his feet.
I wanna do bad things with you, okay
He was really getting into it now, no longer looking like someone who was simply there to perform a song and collect their bills but someone who was possessed by the music, like each note was pulling at some baser instinct within him to turn him into a complete and utter sexpot. It was hard to not think of just how he would look in the VIP room with a more lax nudity policy.
John made his way off the stage and down to the floor, staring Dutch down not like he was the boss, but like John himself had complete and total control of every inch of hardwood in that building. He planted his knees on the armrests of Dutch's seat, leaning into the man while shaking those slender little hips of his to the rhythm.
When you came in the air went out
And all those shadows there filled up with doubt
John's forearms rested on Dutch's shoulders while he moved, however the man's face locked eyes with Arthur; those deep grey-brown ones pierced right into Arthur's blue ones. He had a look on his face that deep down, Arthur knew was for show; they may have been in a strip club but he had the bedroom eyes of a porn star. He knew he was giving this dance everything he had in order to get this job and like with porn, this was a performance and nothing more.
Despite all rational thought, Arthur could feel his cock swell beneath his black jeans. Thank god that his uniform was dark enough where it wouldn't look too obvious.
I don't know who you think you are
But before the night is through
He angled his body over to Hosea's seat, somehow balancing himself between the two, giving the two bosses a good look at his muscular back, hips and ass. Knowing Hosea as well as he did, the silver-haired man was ticking off a list of desirable performance qualities in his head, keeping a running total of all the right things John did.
When within these walls, Hosea was all business rather than pleasure. That was probably why he was going on 33 years with Bessie and Dutch had two ex-wives under his belt.
I wanna do bad things with you
I wanna do real bad things with you
John rolled off the two men in such a way that would've had them panicking for first aid had he not landed in a position that saw his knees splayed while he whipped his hair around in circles in front of the two men.
I don't know what you've done to me
But I know this much is true
John hopped back up onto the stage backwards, kicking out his feet in time with the music before he was back on his feet.
I wanna do bad things with you
He thumbed at the waistband of his boxers, dragging one side down tantalisingly, slowly revealing his taut ass while keeping a hand on his cock.
I wanna do real bad things with you
The shake of his hips saw him turning around seductively, revealing the entirety of said ass while he moved in time with the end of the song. For Arthur, it was a shame it had to end; he looked even better out of his clothes than in them.
God....he really was pathetic. It had been so long since the Head of Security had actually had sex that he was now salivating over a new dancer, like he was fresh meat in a lion's den. He really needed to get out or something; maybe try a hookup app again to just get it out of his system so he wouldn't act a fool at work towards someone just trying to pay their bills.
He could hear some clapping coming from Abi, Sadie and Karen while John leaned back, sighing while he promptly pulled his boxers back up, turning back around to look out from the stage.
Hosea and Dutch whispered to one another before Dutch stood up.
"Kid, how old are you?"
"I'm 22, sir."
"And you know you'll be dancing for men as well as women here? You'll share the stage with the girls too. We accept all kinds here."
"Yes sir, ain't got no problem with any o' that."
Dutch nodded for a second. "Can you start tonight?"