George didn't say much during the drive home, preferring to listen to the music softly playing as he stared out of the window at the deserted streets of London. Paul was tapping along to the music with his fingers on the steering wheel, as he drove them home. George could sometimes feel Paul's eyes on him, studying him and probably wondering what went on is his friend's head, since he normally was a lot more talkative. Or rather, more inclined to listen to Paul talk. Whereas George would normally actively listen to what Paul had to say and ask questions, he had now only hummed whenever Paul wanted him to say something in reply. Eventually he had just given up.

In all honesty, George didn't feel like listening to Paul talk, but he didn't want to be rude and tell him that, knowing he'd hurt Paul's feelings. It was only that his mind was too busy thinking about himself. All he could think about were those shiny blue-eyes staring at him in the crowd. He knew he was stupid for even thinking about him. He was a customer, there was no way he'd actually be interested in him. Besides, George had agreed with himself that he wouldn't go out with anyone he'd meet at work at the first day he had started, not wanting to end up in some kind of "pretty woman-esque" life. Of course, George knew that would never happen either, since men didn't fall in love with strippers. It was more the idea of them that appealed to them. It was the same reason why George always felt like a piece of meat whenever he went on stage. Not that he didn't like his job. He enjoyed it immensely and it was a lot of fun, even the performing on stage. But he didn't have any illusions about the men who'd be watching him.

"George? Are you okay?" Paul asked, interrupting George's thinking. The younger man simply hummed in reply again, closing his eyes and letting out a yawn. It was almost four o'clock in the morning, and the nap hadn't been enough to keep him well and energized after a whole day of uni and work. Friday evenings always were the hardest.

"Are you still having dinner at Jane's tomorrow?" George asked, humouring Paul and hoping he'd drop it if he'd let him speak for a while. He turned away from the window and looked at Paul, who smiled at the mention of his girlfriend.

"Yeah. She'll pick me up around eleven. We'll have lunch and see this movie that came out a few days ago. Oh, and before I forget, me and Jane will be having dinner with her parents, so I can't pick you up before work." Paul spoke, obviously feeling a lot better now it wasn't as quiet in the car. George stared at him at the news, immediately regretting having gotten rid of his bicycle.

"What? And how am I supposed to get to work then? I mean, you will drive home with me, right?"

"Yes, of course. And it's only a short walk."

"Short walk?! It's thirty minutes, Paul! I can't walk thirty minutes on four inch-heels. Unlike you."

"Of course you can! You dance on them, right? Walking is easier."

"Not on the street, it isn't."

"Then just put on regular shoes and take your heels with you! That's what most people do. I can't come pick you up, Geo."

"Can't you leave sooner?"

"And tell the what? I'm sorry I can't stay for dessert but I work as a male stripper and I have to pick up my best mate before work because he can't walk in heels, but only strip in them. But really, I'm a great boyfriend for your daughter!" Paul said sarcastically.

"Just lie!"

"George, this dinner is really important to me, okay? And I can't leave at seven because I have to pick you up because you can't be bothered to find another ride or simply walk like everyone else." Paul told George sternly, his fingers tightening on the wheel in annoyance. George sighed, and looked away again, folding up his arms before his chest.

"Why don't you ask John to pick you up, then? I'm sure he wouldn't mind. I'm sorry, Geo, but I can't screw this up. It's the first time I meet them. I really like this girl, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. Fine. I'll call John in the morning."

"Thanks, George. And if that doesn't work, you can borrow my bicycle. The keys are in the pocket of my leather jacket."

"Yeah, sure."

               The following morning George woke up at half past eleven in the morning to find that Paul had already left, leaving him a note on the kitchen table. He went to put the kettle on and read the note while he waited for the water to boil. He snorted when he realised it was only a note to remind him to call John for a ride and that there were still some leftovers from the evening before in the fridge if he didn't feel like cooking for himself that evening. He had even written down John's phone number. George bawled up the piece of paper in his fist and threw it in the bin, before pouring himself a cup of tea and grabbing the phone to call John, figuring that if John wasn't up yet, it be time for him to be. John didn't pick up the first time, so George called again. This time he got a grumpy sounding John Lennon on the phone.

"What?" was the first thing John grumbled from the other end of the line. George couldn't help but smirk as he realised he had woken him up.

"You awake, Lennon?" He asked, before taking a sip from his tea, enjoying the way it warmed up his body. He could hear John curse and groan for a bit before he finally answered.

"I bloody well am now. What do you want, George?" He grumbled, before letting out a long yawn, that made George yawn as well. John snickered when he heard.

"Just wanted to know if you could give me a lift to work this evening." George replied.

"What? Paul finally broke up with you?" John joked.

"No." George quickly replied, blushing slightly, "He's having dinner with Jane's parents. He doesn't have the time to pick me up before work or we'll be late again. Once was enough for Paul."

"Right. Yeah, I can pick you up if you want. But we'll have to be there early. Eppy asked me to help him out before we open. There's this guy who wants to rent the place for some stupid party or something. I don't really know, since I wasn't listening."

"Do you ever listen?"

"I would if people would start saying things that actually interested me." John grumbled back, his voice still thick with sleep. George couldn't help but chuckle.

"How would you know they'd be saying something interesting if you're never listening." He asked, drinking the last of his tea as he waited for John to answer. John seemed to think about it for a while, before he finally answered with another yawn.

"I guess it's one of the great mysteries of life. Now, what do you say, Harrison? You mind coming in a little early?"

"No, that's fine. What time will you pick me up? Oh, and I'll be driving back with Paul, so don't worry about that."

"We could have some fun together before work, if you're up to it. I can be at your place in about an hour. Unless you have more important things to do." John asked, sounding too smug to think that George had anything better to do than spend time with him. George bit his lip and looked over at the dining table where his assignments for university were waiting for him. They had to be finished on Monday and he really wasn't getting anywhere yet. Combining work with university was tiring and he normally really needed his Saturday afternoons to do some work, but if he was honest with himself he really didn't feel like doing anything. And he would rather hang out with John for a bit, than bury himself into those thick books and try to make some sense out of it.

"I kind of have some assignments to work on..." The words had left his mouth before he had even realised it. God, Paul's influence was shining through.

"Good. I'll help." John replied matter-of-factly and George burst out in laughter.

"Yeah, that will be a great idea! Remember the last time I let you help me out. You sneakily wrote that some musicians and artists are bigger than Jesus, because of their influence on today's youth. Some professors still give me funny looks because of that!"

"That wasn't my fault. You just should have proof read it."

"I did! But then you added it in anyway. And without telling me!"

"It's not my fault you chose to study something as daft as Religious Studies. You brought all of this on to yourself. Besides, you got a 78% for it, because of your revolutionary thoughts."

"Yes, after I told them you were sabotaging me. I could have gotten a 85% easily if it hadn't been for you."

"Minor detail. So what? I'm coming over in an hour and a half, alright. And don't forget to get us something to eat, too." John told him sternly from the other side of the line, leaving little room for debate, for which George was actually glad. He smiled and nodded, before realising he was talking through the phone and John couldn't actually see him.

"Yeah, fine. But you're not helping me with my assignments."

"Fine. But you're missing out, son." John replied, before hanging up.

                Two hours later, George opened the door to a grinning John Lennon, who was leaning against the doorway with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Before George had even time to say anything, John had already pushed the flowers into his face.

"From your handsome blue-eyed admirer." He said, making George roll his eyes, before taking the flowers from him and turning around to put them in some water.

"What? Not gonna tip the messenger?" John laughed as he stepped inside and shut the door to the apartment behind him. He shrugged off his coat and threw it in a corner as George disappeared into the small kitchen.

"I would if you were a real messenger, but I know these flowers weren't from him. Besides, I don't even have an admirer. He only liked the fact I got almost naked in front of him. Most men would act strange after that." George shouted from the kitchen, feeling more amused than annoyed, "Now, tell me. Why the flowers? Really." He asked as he cut of the ends of the flowers and filled a vase with some water, before putting them in there. When he stepped outside he found John snooping around the apartment, probably hoping to find any dirt of either him or Paul to use against them. George let him, though, knowing he wouldn't find anything he didn't already know.

"Just thought it'd be funny to see you trying to explain that to our dearest Paulie. He'd never believe you got them from me and would demand to know who your new secret lover is. He won't leave you alone until he knows. Which he won't figure out, because there isn't anyone, is there, Geo? I mean, there hasn't been anyone for the last year." John told him as he sat himself down on their scruffy white sofa they stole from somewhere. John and Paul had gotten it somewhere, though neither said they'd remembered where actually. Except that it hadn't really been stolen since the place they had found it in had been abandoned. It hadn't been white when they'd gotten it, but it sure was now. Paul was a fucking natural at cleaning pretty much anything. Especially with their help. George put the vase on the coffee table before sitting himself down next to John on the couch. Apart from the couch there wasn't much else to sit on, though it was rather large and it could easily fit five people, six if you didn't mind getting squished.

"Give me a rest, John. You haven't been in a relationship this year either. So really, you're being a hypocrite." George told John as he sat with his back against the armrest and curled up his legs.

"Right, Harrison. At least I got laid like two days ago. I bet your cock hasn't seen much more than the darkness created by your own fist." John told him with a knowing smirk, making George blush.

"Piss off..." Was all he could say. John laughed at that, before standing up.

"Great comeback. Really. Want a beer to forget about your non-existent love-life?" He asked. He patted George's shoulder when the younger man nodded, and went to the kitchen to get them a drink.

               "You wanna know what I think?" John asked after they've sat and talked for about an hour. George looked up from the guitar on his lap and waited for John to continue.

"Strippers... they are all teasers, you know. Of course they are, but you know what's worse than a stripper?" George shrugged, not being too sure he wanted to know where this was going now that John had downed two beers and was currently smoking pot in his living room.

"Straight strippers." John told him matter-of-factly, and George's lips curled up in a smile as he realised where this conversation was going. It wasn't be the first time John talked about this.

"I mean. It's not fair, you know. You get all worked up about this guy and then he goes home to fuck his girl?! Like, what's up with that, you know? There's no magic or what ifs in that, you know. It's all a fucking lie." The older man continued, taking a drag from his ciggy, before offering George some. George reclined and continued strumming some lazy chords as he listened to John ranting on.

"It's rude, even! Making me create some wild fucking fantasy around you and then saying you're straight. I know nothing would happen with a real stripper, but still. I'd like the possibility." John went on and George merely nodded in agreement, knowing better than to try to argue with him on the matter when he was getting high. There would be no way of getting anything logical out of him or to understand logic at all, actually.

"Besides, they're all bisexual at least!" John finished, and George couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Paul isn't bi, John. He's straight." He told him, still laughing.

"And how would you know?!" John asked, sounding as bitchy as his expression, which only made George's laughter worse.

"Er, because he told me?"

"But come one! Why else would he be taking his clothes of for men and allow them to drool over them and squeeze his bottom and make cat calls at him as he walks by? He must at least be a little interested, right?" John argued. George only cocked his head to the side and put the guitar down besides him on the floor, before replying.

"It's Paul we're talking about, John. They guy has an ego from here to tokyo! Of course he'd want men to find him attractive and want him and be the best at it too. He likes the attention! Hell, and it makes plenty of money, too. Far more than he'd be making if he stripped for women."

"Yeah, well. He still liked cock. Maybe he just doesn't know it yet." John grumbled and George chuckled, before throwing his pillow against John's face.

"Don't start to act all grumpy now. If you get truly desperate I'll let you fuck me, yeah?" He giggled, blushing at the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"Let me?! Come on, Geo. You'd let me right now if I wanted to. You know that." John told him with a smirk and George shook his head.

"Whatever you say, John. Now, get us another beer, yeah?"

                It was only half past six when John got off from the couch and started gathering up all the plates and cartons of leftover take-out and tidied up the place a little, going as far as grabbing George's plate from him before George was even finished.

"Eh! I was still eating that!" George exclaimed, wide eyed and honestly surprised by John's horrible actions. John laughed at him, before picking up a few dumplings and pushing them into George's mouth.

'Here, munch on this while I clean this up so Paul wouldn't have a heart attack when he gets home. We have to leave soon if we have to be there at seven."

"Sewven?! Buf mhe flub wond opfen hill hine!" George tried to speak with a stuffed mouth. Tears started to water behind his eyes and he desperately started to chew on the food in his mouth and forced himself to swallow. He glared at his friend when he noticed him looking at him with just a little too much sadistic amusement. He was clearly biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing.

"The club won't open till nine. Why would we be there by seven?" George repeated, taking in large breathes to get his oxygen level back on track. He rubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears.

"Because Eppy said so and he's the boss. Now, get your make up done and get dressed before I'll have to do it for you." John said, still trying to bite back his laughter. George nodded and got up to do as John asked as John cleared the place, knowing John would if he didn't hurry.

               When the two of them arrived at the club, George was shaking on his feet. John's driving was as bad as Paul had claimed it to be and George had almost seen death. He wasn't even exaggerating. At least, he didn't seem to think so.

"I'm not that bad! Don't be such a pussy." John shot at him, his face tight and a little frustrated.

"No, really. You are! Next time I'll walk. Gladly." George told him, staring down at the ground as he caught his breath and tried to calm himself a little. The heels weren't making it much easier for him to stay standing and he had to hold onto a chair to keep himself upright.

"Alright, now you're just fucking messing with me!" John said as he watched George stumble to a chair to hold onto. George didn't have the time to reply, because Mr Epstein had already walked into the club, holding his notebook once again and wearing his standard black suit.

"Ah! Mr Harrison. See you haven't quite fixed your alarm clock, although I can't really complain about this particular outcome." Mr Epstein joked as he approached the two men. George smiled apologetically, but Brian laughed and clasped his shoulder in his hand.

"Don't worry about it, lad. You've more than made up for it with that performance. Much better than Sutcliffe would've done had he not been ill."

"Thank you, Mr Epstein. But my alarm clock is fine. I had to ride with John to work, since Paul's out all day before work." George explained as he swallowed thickly and felt his body slowly return to normal.

"Ah, I see. Well, you can stay here until John and I are finished. It shouldn't take too long. After that you two can help me get everything ready before we open." Brian told him and George nodded to say he understood, looking around to see what he could do to pass the time.

"Yeah, about that Eppy. What was it we'd be doing again?" John asked suddenly from behind them. Brian sighed and started to skim through his notebook, as if he was searching for something.

"There are a few people coming here to look around the club and see what we can offer them for a certain bachelor party." He said thoughtfully.

"Who then?"

"Not sure. I'd say someone important if they really want to get the whole club for as long as they say." Brian answered, frowning down at his notebook, before looking back up at the two younger man before him.

"Anyway. Let's get to work, right, John?" He asked and John nodded dutifully. The two man walked out of the room to the backstage area and left George on his own. He sighed and stumbled over to the stage to sit down. He groaned when he realised he had left his phone at home and wouldn't be able to play a stupid game until the others would be back.

               George continued to sit there for a while, his legs bungling down from the stage. He hummed a little tune to himself as he looked around the club. It looked strange now that it was completely empty and lighted up by daylight from the few, normally hidden windows. It didn't look any different from any other club George has ever been to, save perhaps the strip poles and dirty images on the walls. His eyes fell onto the seat where the blue-eyed man had been sitting last night. George wasn't sure why he was still thinking about him. It wasn't the first time someone cute had walked in and caught his eye, but this was the first time he couldn't simply put him out of his mind. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see those shiny blue eyes staring at him. It was odd and George didn't like it at all.

Sighing, he looked up at the pole next to him and studied it for a while. A little while later, he gave in, took off his heels and got up onto the stage bare footed. He could at least try to do something productive with his time now he was here. He looked up at the pole and did a few stretches before wrapping his hand around the pole. He walked around it a few times, making sure to step on his toes, before pushing away with his feet and swirling around the pole for one entire round, his other hand coming up for extra leverage, before landing perfectly onto his feet again. He smiled proudly at himself and repeated this a few times, before changing direction and going the other way.

Deciding he wanted to do something more, he stepped away for a bit, studying the pole, before climbing onto it with his hands and feet. When he was high enough, he curled a leg tightly around the pole and let go of the pole with his hands, allowing himself to slowly slide down, until his feet touched the floor again. He did it again, this time now stepping away first. Once he got down, he took a deep breath, before grabbing the pole tightly with both hands and throwing himself up, so he was hanging upside down and curled his legs tightly around the pole and pressed his hips firmly against it, before making sure he wouldn't fall down and letting go, letting himself hang upside down for a bit. He was glad he had already changed into his short at home, or else he wouldn't have been able to hold this pose. Once he felt his legs burn, he slowly threw them down again, landing once again on his feet. Wanting to do the fireman spin, he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself again, before starting to walk around the pole once again, one hand wrapped around it, before speeding up. Right before he jumped up, he wrapped his other hand also around the pole and curled his legs up next to it as soon as his feet came off the ground. He smiled to himself and gave a small happy cry as he spun around the pole, slowly moving downwards, with some nice speed, making his hair wave.

Once he landed on his knees, the silence in the room was broken by the sound of someone applauding. Shocked, George looked up and into the room to see who had been watching him. His heart sped up in his chest as he saw the blue-eyed man standing a little at the back of the club in the shadows. When the other man noticed George looking he stepped out into the light with a shy smile.

"Sorry. I er... I didn't want to disturb you. I just thought you were good." The man said, folding his hands behind his back and wiggling nervously back and forth on his heels. George didn't say anything and simply stood up on the stage, pulling himself up by the pole.

"I saw you yesterday. I... you were good." The other man continued, trying to make this less awkward and George gave a half-smile.

"Thanks. Er... we're not yet open." He told the man as he looked him over. He was shorter than he had expected and was wearing a simple pair of tight-fitting jeans and a simply red button-up shirt. His brown hair was short at the sides and longer at the top, but still reminded George of his own hair-do. When the man took a few steps closer to the stage, George realised the man had quite a large nose, too, in comparison with the rest of his small physique.

"I know. I was here to discuss some things with the manager. We were almost done, so I figured I'd have a quick look around. Of course, I hadn't expected to see you here. I wouldn't have bothered you otherwise." The smaller man said and George cursed when he felt his cheeks blush at the way the other man was looking at him. He wasn't used to be looked at like that. It made him nervous.

"You weren't bothering me. I was only practising. Waiting for me friend to finish." George explained. When the man moved even closer and started to reach into his pocket, George wasn't sure if he should move away or not. Though, the other man didn't seem to be the type to try to cut him or anything.

"Right. Well, my apologies anyway. Erm.. Here's a little for the show. I don't want to feel like I've stolen anything when I leave." He said as he got out his wallet and produced a few bills. George's eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head and held up his hands.

"Oh, no. Really, that's not necessary. It was hardly a show at all." He said, but the other man still handed him the money. When their eyes met, George couldn't do anything other than take the guy's money anyway, not wanting to hurt the guy's feelings or anything.

"No, take it, please. I'd only feel bad if you didn't." He said as George took the money from him. He counted it swiftly and had to keep his eyes from widening as he saw he was holding twenty pounds.

"I can't take this." He tried, but the man had already turned away with a happy smile on his face and George felt his heart flutter at the sight. He looked so adorable.

"Don't worry about it. We'll probably see each other again soon." The blue-eyed man said as he turned to walk out of the door. George quickly jumped off the stage and stared at the blue-eyed man as he left.

"I'm George, by the way!" He quickly called after him. And just before the other man had left the room, George managed to hear him call his own name back. Richard. Richard Starkey.