Ringo shivered as he stepped outside and into the cold night. Whereas the club had been warm and oddly soothing to his nerves, the sharp cold reminded him once again of the stress and exhaustion his body was going through. He had wanted to go home after the meeting with Mr Epstein, but he had wanted to see that stripper again, George. It had been worth it. He had made him forget about everything that was going on in his life, and he had really needed that after so long. But now he had to report back to Pete. He pulled his coat a little better around himself and made sure it was closed properly, before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking towards his car, which he had parked a few hundred meters further down the street.

Soon his mind was brought back to that stripper again. It was odd how much he seemed to like him, even if George probably thought of him nothing more than just another customer. The younger lad was nice and friendly and could even be funny, although he seemed rather quiet. Shy. But he was fun to be around. What had started out as sexual attraction, had now changed in something else. Ringo found himself curious about him, about his life and friends and what he did besides this. Not that he had asked him that, of course. He didn't want to be rude and he certain didn't want to make the other man uncomfortable around him. He enjoyed talking to him, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him away. It had been awhile since he had last been able to simply talk to someone. It was odd he had to find that under such odd circumstances.

He smiled and remembered this night and the night before when he had first seen George, as he walked to his car, and the cold didn't seem as bad anymore. He sighed and checked his phone one last time after he had gotten into his car, checking to see if Pete had texted him anything else. When he saw he hadn't, Ringo groaned and gathered up courage, before driving off. He had to go. Pete had asked him, too. And if Ringo fucked up once more, he was certain he'd get fired. It didn't matter that they had been friends before Pete had become his boss. After Pete had gotten that promotion, he had changed. And not for the better. He still couldn't believe he had asked him, his personal assistant, to organise his bachelor party. That was not part of his job description. Ringo had difficulty feeling happy for the 'lucky girl' that was about to become Mrs Pete Best.

Why their relationship had changed so much, Ringo couldn't remember exactly. He knew Pete had been angry with him when he had managed to get the spot in that band, and not him when they had both auditioned, but he didn't think that would be enough reason for Pete to get this angry at him and actually use him. It had simply happened once he had gotten the power to do so and it made Ringo question if their friendship has even been genuine at all. Or maybe Pete had never liked him. Maybe he had never even liked Pete.

He arrived at Pete's house in about twenty minutes. It was completely dark out and even darker surrounding Pete's house, the light bulb in the street light near his house having been broken. It has been broken for ages and Ringo doubted it would ever be fixed. Pete certainly didn't seem to mind the lack of light in front of his house, valuing his privacy highly. Ringo parked next to the broken street light and made sure he had everything, before getting out of the car. Swallowing thickly, as he was scared to think about what Pete wanted from him now, he shut the door and locked the car. Step by step, he carefully approached the house.

George had difficulty keeping his mind on his job as he worked the final hours of his shift. He only needed to go on for two more hours and he'd be finished, but he couldn't keep himself from thinking about those beautiful, bright blue eyes. He had really enjoyed talking to Richard, even though he had felt a little uncomfortable, since he wasn't used to be doing that with anyone he didn't know in a strip club. It was completely against everything he stood for. He would not fall for a customer and be drawn into some cheesy movie in which he'd be represented by Julia Roberts- because the world was so hetero and gender normative.

He sighed and went over to John to get himself some water, his throat being rather dry from trying to keep his strained breathing under control and as sexy as he could manage, and all the talking he had done with Richard. The older man didn't seem to be very into work anymore either. A fake smile disappeared almost immediately once the customer who was sitting at the bar turned away from John to look at the stage where some guys were dancing around in their thongs. He didn't even bother to return it when he noticed George coming his way.

"Don't tell me," John said in a hushed tone with George was close enough, "The guy actually gave you his phone number?" George chuckled at that, but shook his head.

"Hardly. He did say he'd come back, though. Even asked me when I was working." He replied, his voice just as soft as John's. He said down onto one of the seats by the bar and leaned forward, letting his head rest onto his hands, elbows on the table. John smiled proudly at the answer and quickly tapped George a class of water.

"Lucky boy, aren't you?" He asked. George faked a smile, but shook his head.

"It's nothing, though." He said, but John shook his head as he gave George his water. George thanked him, before gulping the whole glass down in one go. Once his glass was empty he handed it back to John, who filled it for him again.

"It's weird though, don't you think?" George asked out of nowhere after a few minutes of silence. John looked up from his work of cleaning some more glasses. A lock of auburn hair landed before his eyes, and he blew upwards to move the hair away from his face. When it only flopped back, George snickered. John merely grinned and shrugged, before stepping closer to George, not bothering to push it away properly.

"What is?" He asked.

"Richard. He only wants to talk. He never asked me anything or indicated that he wanted anything else from me. It's weird, right? I mean, if you're going to a strip club, you want to see some nudity and gauge freely at some young, handsome boys that take their clothes off at your command, you wouldn't really want to spend all your time talking to one stupid, shy waiter?"

"Maybe he's into that kind of stuff." John suggested with a wink, but George didn't laugh.

"I know I'm reading too much into it. I'm a stripper, not dating material." He muttered sadly. He had to bite down his lip when John reached over and placed a calm hand on his shoulder.

"George, don't think low of yourself. Paul's right, you know. He likes you for you. You just don't see it yet. Maybe he hasn't seen it yet, either." George didn't answer to that, preferring to leave the subject as it was and moving on with the next.

For the remaining hours of his shift, George worked mindlessly, going off on experience and instinct. It seemed to work. No one complained about his lack of mental attendance, giving George enough time to overthink what had just happened that day. It seemed odd to him. Yesterday he had seen him in the audience and now he was already looking forward to him coming back again to talk to him. Not that he would deny Richard if he would ask for anything more, but George doubted he'd do that. He hoped he would be coming back. And on one of his work days, too. Since he had asked when he worked, George should be able to say that he'd be back with confidence, but actually he wasn't able to do that at all.

He sighed to himself as he wondered why he had had to leave so suddenly in the first place. Obviously it hadn't been planned. George had seen the slightly scared expression on the older man's face when he had read the text. He really wanted to know what it had said. Maybe he had a boyfriend who had been wondering where he was? Maybe Richard wasn't even supposed to be here and was his boyfriend mad at him? Or maybe he had caught him going to a strip club? It wouldn't surprise George. The man was handsome and adorable and actually very nice and funny. Anyone should be lucky to have him, and normally boyfriends and girlfriends don't particularly like it when their boyfriends go to stripclubs to stare at other men or women. Or maybe his boyfriend had had an accident or something? What if something bad had happened?

George tried to put the thoughts away, hoping they weren't true and that it had been something else. He wasn't sure what had upset him most, the idea that something bad had happened or that Richard had a boyfriend. He sort of felt betrayed, which George knew was absurd and not fair. Just because he liked Richard didn't mean Richard liked him or had to tell him if he had a boyfriend or anything. He wasn't obligated to tell George anything, seeing as he was just a stripper. He sighed again and had a quick look at his watch. Just half an hour to go. Deciding, he didn't feel up to it, he went backstage to freshen himself up and change into something a bit more comfortable and less revealing.

As George and Paul sat in the car back home, George thought of a way of letting Richard know he liked him. He knew he was being stupid. He knew it was against the promises he had made to himself, about never going after a guy he had met at the club, but he found it difficult to make himself care. He remembered what Brian had told him about the appointment with Ringo. About a bachelor party. Was it Ringo's? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he engaged? Was that why he had had to leave so suddenly. Had she been waiting for him? George whined at his own stupidity. He knew he shouldn't have assumed Richard had been gay. There were plenty of bisexual and even straight men that came in regularly. Had Richard only visited to club to check it out before his bachelor party? To see if it could offer what he wanted? Maybe he had liked him, and maybe he had wanted him to be there for the party for his own filthy entertainment.

Perhaps that was why he had asked what days he worked? Perhaps that was why he had told him they'd see each other again? Had he really been that stupid? Had he actually thought Richard liked him? There was one way to find out. He had to either talk to Brian, or steal his notebook to see if there was anything in there. He knew he had to go for the later option, knowing Brian wouldn't tell him anything, saying it was confidential. At least, he had already persuaded John to help him steal it. He would figure it out.

"George?" Paul broke the silence in the car. George turned his head to look at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Do you like him? Richard? Honestly this time. Without thinking of any of the circumstances. If you would just have met him on the street, or even at university, would you have liked him?"

"Yes." George sighed. It was the truth, which was why the thought of Richard not thinking of him the same way made him feel nauseous and uneasy.

"You deserve to be happy, Geo. If he likes you too then don't push him away because of what kind of job you have or anything like that. Life and love is hard enough as it is." Paul told him. George didn't answer him and looked back out of the window again. He had to find out more about him.

It was eerily quiet when Ringo stepped into his own apartment. It was half past three in the morning and he needed his sleep desperately. Especially because he had to work the next day and had to get up at eight. Still, it wasn't as early as he sometimes had to wake up, but Ringo would've been far happier had he been able to sleep a little bit longer. Say twelve. Or just the whole day. That would have been even better. But no luck for him.

He groaned and threw all his stuff on the little couch in the living room, before locking the front door behind him. He didn't bother to hit the light switch. He just needed a nice, hot shower, a cup of steamy tea from the kitchen and his own save and comfy bed. He left his stuff where it was, knowing he needed them the next day anyway, so there was no point in putting everything away properly. He merely grabbed his phone from the pocket of his coat and stumbled further through the dark apartment and towards the bathroom.

Luckily, the late meeting with Pete had gone better than expected. He hadn't done anything wrong, but he merely wanted a report on how things were going with the arrangements of the party and go over some last things for the meeting he had that morning at half past nine. It was an important meeting with someone who could give the theatre a lot of money, which was truly needed. They needed to do some restorations on some of the older buildings, which would cost them lots of money.

Of course, Pete had taken the time to ask why Ringo thought he'd need to visit the strip club more often in preparation of the party. Ringo's answer had been vague, knowing he didn't actually have to, but he made some excuses about getting closer to the strippers and see which ones would work best and the get a better feel of the place so he could use that for when the party actually took place. Ringo knew it was a rubbish excuse, but he had said it with enough confidence that Pete had given his okay. And with the party still being almost a month away, it would give Ringo enough time to see George again and not worry about his job performance or the costs. He already felt excited at the thought of seeing the younger lad again.

He turned on the shower and undressed quickly, putting all his clothes into the laundry basket, before grabbing his toothbrush so he could brush his teeth in the shower. He laid out a towel for himself to use for when he was done, before stepping under the warm and soothing stream. He moaned as the warm water hit his skin and soon he was all warmed up again, all the cold and dampness being washed away with the sweat and dirty of the day. Almost immediately his thoughts are being drawn to George again. He imagined him being there with him, sharing the same air as they showered closely under the same shower. He imagined him standing behind him, his longer and skinny body crowding up behind him as he spooned up against him, his arms curling around his waist, before pulling them together, so that Ringo would be able to feel his interested cock against his arse.

Ringo sighed and closed his eyes as he soaped up his body, imagining it were George's rough hands that he felt on his body. His breathing grew more strained and when his fingers reached his half-hard dick, he started to play with it teasingly, like he expected George would do. When he came he breathed out George's name and leaned against the wall with his hands as he caught his breath, a satisfied smirk on his lips. After he quickly washed his hair and washed all the soap from his body, before quickly brushing his teeth. Once he was finished, he got out again and started drying himself as best as he could.

After he wrapped his towel around his waist and walked to his bedroom, where he was greeted by a little black cat. She meowed at him cutely and stretched herself out on his bed, but didn't bother to get up, knowing her owner would come over to her. She started purring when Ringo sat down onto the bed next to her and started to pet her, scratching her behind her ear and whispering sweet nothings to her. She leaned into his touch and continued to purr, as she enjoyed the petting she was receiving. Once she had enough, she got up and jumped off the bed and tippled over to the living room, probably to have something to eat or drink. Ringo watched her go with a smile on his face, before changing into his pajamas.

Before he got into bed, he examined himself in the mirror and tried to think of the way George thought of him. Did he find him attractive? Did he think his head was too small? Or his nose too big? Did he dream about his bright blue eyes (he had been told those were his best features)? Did he think of his lips as kissable? Did he like the smallness of his body? Or did he think of him as simply little? Did he think he was too skinny? Or perhaps to fat? Or did he think he was perfect just the way he was? Ringo smiled at himself in the mirror at that last thought, before catching himself and rolling with his eyes at his own stupidity. What was he doing anyway?

He sighed and switched on the lamp on his bedside table and crawling into his bed, humming as he was engulfed in that warm, comfortable cocoon of pillows, blankets and mattress. He promised himself to go see George again that following Tuesday, since he'd be working again. Perhaps if he showed up enough, he would notice he liked him and would feel more comfortable and self-assured around him. Maybe he could even ask him out. Ringo fell asleep with a peaceful smile on his face. Not long after, his cat jumped back onto the bed and curled up against him and fell asleep as well.

That following Tuesday, George went to work with excitement. He could see Paul grinning at him as they got ready, but George didn't care. He would see Richard again. It had seemed ages since he had last seen him, even though it had only been two days. He hoped he would be there. He hoped he hadn't forgotten about him, but something told him he hadn't. It was an odd feeling, something he hadn't felt before, but it felt good. Paul had laughed at him when he had told him, saying he was acting like a girl in one of those romantic movies. Again, George didn't care. And he wouldn't even mind if he was one of those girls.

He worked happily and with a smile. He kept a close eye on the door and everytime someone came in, he looked up hopefully, only to be disappointed when he saw another unfamiliar face. Still, he kept his hopes up, knowing Richard knew he was working this evening. Besides, it was a Tuesday evening, perhaps he had work. George didn't have a clue what Richard did for a living and he was starting to wonder what they had talked about two nights ago? He couldn't remember, but he knew it had been nice, so he wanted to talk to him again.

John teased him about it of course, saying that maybe he should prick his finger on a spinning-wheel. Just to see if he'd come sooner then. George had faked a laugh, before avoiding him for the rest on the evening. When Paul noticed, he told John off, saying he shouldn't be mean. George hadn't missed the way John had nodded obediently and promised Paul he wouldn't, before licking his lips hungrily when Paul walked away again, swaying his hips. At least John didn't bother him anymore that evening.

George continued to keep a close eye on the door and even walked circles around the club and checked the bathrooms to see if he had perhaps missed him. But when the club closed for the evening, Richard still hadn't turned up.