Paul noticed almost right away that something was off about his friend. He had been quiet again all night as they drove home and when they finally got home, George had stumbled off to bed without another word, the door falling shut rather loudly behind him. Paul bit his lip as he remained standing in the doorway, his coat over his arm, as he considered following his friend. In the end, he decided to give him some time and space. He stepped inside the apartment and made sure to lock the front door, before hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes. He patted barefooted into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine as he got out his phone to check for any messages. He had class that following morning and he had to be there at eleven, which wasn't too bad. He was going to be tired, but he'd had worse.

He took the glass and had a sip, as he walked back into the living room, where flicked on the lights with his elbow as he sent Jane a goodnight text, like he always did when he got home. So what if he was sappy and romantic. Jane loved it, thought it was cute. And as long as it got him laid, Paul didn't mind to be that way at all.

He had just been about to sit down and read a little before bed, when he heard a loud thud coming from George's room. He jerked up in fright, nearly spilling the red wine all over his white shirt. Cursing, he quickly put the glass down as he listened for any more sounds.

"George? You okay?" He shouted, but his friend didn't answer, "George?" A muffled moan sounded through the door and Paul got up from the couch immediately, fearing something was wrong. He pulled the door to George's door open without warning and barged in, calling out his friend's name again, asking him if he was okay. He found George lying on the ground, half curled up in his sheets and rubbing his head.

"Ouch... fucking hell..." George grumbled quietly, glaring angrily a shelf on the wall above him.

"What the hell did you do?" Paul asked, biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing at the ridiculous scene. George turned his head to meet his eyes. They were still glaring, but looked a little hazy, probably from the dizziness he was most likely experiencing.

"Nothing..." George mumbled as he tried to scramble back onto his feet. Paul giggled at his grumpiness as he walked over to him to help him. George let him and soon enough they were sitting on his bed together, Paul inspecting the hurtful spot on George's head.

"Well, at least you didn't hurt yourself too badly. What were you trying to do anyway?"

"Nothing... just... trying to grab something." George should have known better than to say anything that vague. Paul's lips curled up in an excited and mischievous smile as he let go of George's head and walked over to the shelf. George tried to reach out for him to stop him, but it was in vain.

"Something, eh?" Paul grinned as he moved a few things around on the shelf until he found what he was looking for hiding underneath a stack of thick books on religion George used for university. He could hear George groan behind him as his fingers reached for the little magazine.

"What do we have here, eh? Were you looking for this, George? I don't think this is appropriate material for university, though. Or perhaps there's such a thing as a sex religion or something." Paul smirked, and before he had even uttered the sentence, the magazine had been pulled from his grasp again.

"Piss off, Paul." The younger man mumbled as he crawled back into bed. Paul turned back to him and knelt down besides his bed where he started to lightly play with George's hair.

"Aw, it's okay, Geo. I understand our little baby is curious." He said in a mocking soothing voice. George mumbled something again that Paul could only assume was another insult. He laughed, before reaching over to grab the magazine again. Apparently, he had surprised George with this, for he could take it easily from him.

"Paul, come on. I'm horny. Just give me the magazine and let me do what I want, okay. It's not like you don't have any filthy magazines, either." George rolled over so he was facing Paul again. He watched with a flushed face as Paul began to skim through it, frowning at certain bits and flushing himself at others.

"I guess I just thought you wouldn't need this, or at least had grown accustomed to it with the job you're doing." Paul told him with a shrug, his eyes taking in a particularly handsome young man who was rocking himself against another particularly handsome young man's arse.

"We're doing, you mean. Give it back!"

"Why are you so grumpy?!" Paul asked, closing the magazine and putting it on the ground next to him, as he captured George's eyes with his own. For a second it seemed that George was at loss for word. He blinked at him a few times, his mouth slightly ajar, as if he could start speaking at any moment. Paul waited expectantly, but George wouldn't answer. He merely tried to roll over again, but Paul wouldn't let him.

"It's nothing. Just... I'm a fucking idiot. But we knew that already, didn't we?"

"George..."

"It's true." George mumbled, lowering his eyes, but Paul shook his head.

"What's wrong?" He asked and George sighed, before giving into him. Paul could see he was feigning reluctance, but judging by the high-pitch in which he was speaking, he gathered George was actually glad to get it off his chest.

"I thought Richard was going to come tonight, but he didn't. Stupidest thing is that I liked him and even thought he liked me for a moment. Well, apparently not. I'm stupid, I know. Why would I have expected anything in the first place. I didn't even know him. I only met him a few days ago!"

"You're mad because he hasn't turned up today?"

"Not mad! Just disappointed, I guess. I sort of thought he would, you know?"

"Did he say he'd come?

"..."

"George?"

"No. Not really. I mean, he said we'd meet again and he asked me when I would be working, so I figured, you know..." George muttered softly, his voice dying down. Paul smiled at his friend as he slowly began to realise his own mistake in his line of reasoning. "I must be very stupid." He finished. Paul quickly shook his head and laid a careful hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No, you're not. Just... enthusiastic." He tried with half a smile. George chuckled at that, which gave Paul hope. "Listen, Geo. Don't get hung up about it. He was probably busy. He'll come back."

"Do you really think so?"

"Sure, if he promised you. Why not?" Paul said, faking a smile. He wasn't as certain himself, but he'd rather not see his friend like this. Besides, perhaps this Richard was the type of guy to keep to his promises to strippers. How ever unlikely that sounded.

"Thanks, Paul." George said with a yawn, drawing Paul back to him. The older man smiled and handed George his dirty magazine back, before standing back up again.

"Now, go have a good wank, sleep and don't bother me anyone. There's a very deliciously cheap wine waiting for me and I'd like to finish it before dawn." He joked, and George smiled even wider at that as he took the magazine and put it beneath the sheets to shield it from Paul's hands just in case. He nodded, and laid back down as Paul began to leave, wishing George a good night, which George returned.

The following day George tried to push Richard out of his mind and focus on his university work for a while. He had an essay to write for that following week and he hoped to be able to finish it before the weekend in order to create some time for himself, which he desperately needed. Combining work with university was difficult, but he was able to do it since he worked in the evenings and had few lectures and classes through the week, giving him plenty of time to do his work in between. But it was tiring and sometimes George just needed a day or two for himself. To sleep, to eat and to play his guitar. He missed plucking those strings and creating the most beautiful sounds and melodies. If he was lucky, he would be able to manage a jam sessions with Paul and John again, like before when they had all been friends and living in good old Liverpool. He missed home and he was counting the days until he would be able to go home for a weekend and see his parents again.

The amount of work he had to do was large enough for George to take his mind off Richard and everything that had happened and simply live his life again without having to worry about boys other than his sometimes rather annoying (and loud) room mate and his girlfriend, but then he could also go to the library if needed. He had worked so hard that it had almost seemed as if he were in a trance, and when it was finally time to go to work again, George was honestly surprised.

He stood there in the middle of the room, a plate of food under his nose, staring blankly at his friend who was dressed in a long black coat. The only thing that would give him away to not being dressed properly underneath it, was the outrages make-up he was wearing and the slight hint of stockings underneath. Paul rolled with his eyes, before grabbing the plate from his friend and dragging him along, while calling him an idiot that couldn't even take care of himself, had he not lived with him.

It was only when he stepped inside the club again that Richard came back to him. He felt a shiver run up his spine and he wasn't sure whether the feeling he was having could be called excitement or just plain nausea. He and Paul quickly went backstage to get dressed and meet up with Stuart (who had lucky got over his illness) to discuss their performance that evening. They would dress up as cops, Brian had decided, and although George wasn't so sure about the whole thing, he was surprised when even Paul began to object. Still, they had to wear it and that was the end of the discussion.

As the shift of the evening started, George tended half-heartedly to the customers, his eyes being drawn to the entrance once again. But no Richard walked in. He tried not to feel disappointed and kept working and hoping that Richard would still walk in. When a client asked for a private lap dance, George bit his lip, before reluctantly following the man to one of the smaller, more intimate rooms. Normally he wouldn't have minded this one bit, but what if Richard would walk in when he was busy? What if he would look around and leave again when he saw he wasn't there? Would that mean the end? Or was he just being overly dramatic. Deciding that the last was more probable, he smiled at the rather handsome man as he held the door open for him. Besides, it wasn't every day a handsome man would ask for anything like this, so why not enjoy himself for a little bit? If he didn't he would regret it for the rest of the week.

The guy was in his early thirties, stylishly dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a light blue shirt. George figured he had probably come straight from the office, judging from the smudges of ink on his hands and the darker circles under his eyes. He had light brown hair, which shimmered almost golden in the dim light of the room and when he sat down on a comfortable love seat that was placed a little away from the wall, George couldn't help but wonder if he looked as good naked as he did in that suit. He figured he should take his opportunity to find out, as long as the other man didn't stop him.

"What's your name?" George asked, not liking the idea of not being able to refer to the other man while doing his 'thing'. The man smiled shyly, before answering.

"Michael." The man answered, but it didn't sound sincere. Still, at least George had a name, even if it wasn't his real one. He didn't care, though. It wasn't like he knew his. He nodded almost faintly as he stepped closer to the seat, making sure to make his heels clack on the floor and to sway his hips. Michael's eyes lowered themselves from George's face to the man's body, landing on his crotch, before letting them take in his skinny, but long legs. George could see the man take in a deep breath and lick his lips. He placed his hands on his thighs and leaned forward a little, so George stopped, keeping his distance. When the man didn't look up at him anymore, George lifted his head to meet his eyes by lifting up his chin with his pointer finger. When their eyes met, George took his final step and sat himself down in the man's lap. Michael took in a deep breath, probably from shock, and continued to stare into George's eyes as George slowly started to move, probably too shy or nervous to look anywhere else. Smirking, George placed his hands on the other man's shoulders and started gyrating his hips, allowing his bum to bump lightly against the other's man crotch, teasing him.

It was clear to see what George was doing to the other man as he felt him get hard under his movement. Although the man tried hard to remain eye contact with him, his eyes kept fluttering close every so often and when his lips parted to let a shaky moan escape, George chuckled lightly, and started to unbutton his tight shirt that was pulled tight over his body. The man's eyes followed his fingers as the moved, exposing more and more skin. Michael let out another moan and George could feel his fingers brushing curiously over his thighs, obviously trying to keep himself from simply grabbing him.

"He-ha-have you... been d-doing this... for long?" Michael asked breathlessly as George's hand moved even lower and started to cup himself through his tight briefs. George couldn't help but chuckle at that and leaned in closer, letting his lips brush against the skin of the man's ear.

"You seriously want to talk now?" He asked as he pulled away again, knowingly fully well the other man was only nervous and obviously didn't know what to do. The man looked up at him and he suddenly looked a lot younger to George, more innocent and slightly scared. He shook his head.

"No!" He replied quickly, "Just... curious, I guess."

"Nervous?"

"That too." The other man confessed and George chuckled again, as he shuffled closer to the other man and cupped his cheek in his hands.

"Just enjoy yourself. It's all good." He said as he rolled with his hips, allowing his bum to rub fully against the other man's crotch, who whined at the pleasure and frustration it was probably giving him. George moved his hand back down again and touched himself once more, before undoing the buttons of his briefs. The man's eyes widened and when he saw a soft satiny pink appear, the almost choked on his own breath.

"You like that?" George asked, his voice husky as he rotated his hips again. Again, he could feel the other man's fingertips brush against his bare thigh.

"C-can I... touch you?" He asked, his voice tight from sexual frustration. George wasn't sure how to answer that question. Most people never even dared to ask, or simply went and did it without asking, which meant George would have to tell them off. Still, he was touched by the man's shyness and sincerity and that combined with that frustration he still felt for Richard not turning up, he nodded, giving him his consent to touch him. The man's eyes widened at that, obviously not having expected that, and took a couple of deep breaths, before slowly sliding his hands up over George's thighs, caressing the skin he found there and marvelling at the softness of it.

George always shaved, as Brian preferred his boys being cleanly shaven and smooth to the touch. It wasn't obligatory, but George did it anyway, secretly liking the way it felt when he rubbed his legs together, but also when someone would touch his shaved skin. The sensation was so different. Closer and more intimate in a way. His skin tingled pleasantly with every touch.

He allowed himself to relish the feeling, before continuing, slowly sliding himself off the man to position himself between the man's legs and lining up his crotch with his face, as the man continued to caress his thighs, and only his thighs, never touching anything else. He didn't even slap or squeeze his bum when he let it bounce before his face.

Once their time was up and George had managed to make the guy stand proudly and erect in his slacks, and his face to flush a bright red, he pulled away from him with a naughty whisper into his ear. He wasn't even sure if Michael had heard it, for he didn't react. He simply sat there, dazed and very frustrated as George left him alone to take care off himself. Before he shut the door behind him, he mentioned the tissues and a bin the corner.

When Michael nodded his response, George left. It was only when he was outside that he noticed his own briefs were a little tighter than normally as well. Still, he decided that sexual release could wait and made use of the situation by gathering tips. The customers seemed to enjoy the view more than enough to hand him a few generous tips. He had a quick look around for Ringo but no one was there.

He glanced at the large clock at the back of the club, overhead the bar and noticed it was almost time for the performance. He dealt with the last customer, before heading backstage where he was greeted by a rather aggravated-looking Paul McCartney and a cocky Stuart. He cocked an eyebrow, but Paul shook his head, telling him not to ask questions. George knew better than to ask anyway and simply got changed into his little uniform.

George got even more confused on stage. He, Paul and Stuart danced almost perfectly, even if George's mind was still occasionally wandering to a certain blue-eyed Richard, and his eyes was look around the room for just a tad bit too long, missing the beat only just. Luckily, the crowd didn't even seem to notice. Paul however, was too busy glaring at Stuart to notice anything off about George's performance and Stuart merely tried his hardest to ignore Paul, for as much as he could at least.

The tension on the stage was terrible and it gave the whole performance a rather odd feel. There was aggression behind Paul's glares and no matter how much George tried to figure out what had happened between the two of them, he truly didn't know.

It wasn't the first time Paul and Stuart had acted this way, and many times the roles had even been reversed. Stu and Paul just didn't get along too well. They were friends, as they hung out with the same people and they could even admire each other, but there was always that hostility between the two of them and it was something neither of them wanted to talk about. George hadn't been able to put his finger on it and now again the whole thing was a mystery to him. He was almost certain something was going to happen between the two of them, the tension being too intense.

However, if George had expected anything, it had been from Paul. But actually it had been from Stuart. George and him and locked Paul onto the strip pole using a pair of handcuffs and were taking turns with Paul on the pole, as they put up some kind of act. Honestly, George wasn't sure what the idea behind it all was, but he didn't really care. Not when he was practically humping Paul as they hung from the pole, Stuart next to them to help them and play with them from the sideline. However, when the act ended, and Stuart was supposed to undo Paul's handcuffs again, he simply followed George off stage and left Paul hanging. Brian, who had been watching the whole performance with a disapproving eye, since he had noticed all three of them were preoccupied, ordered him back, but Stuart merely walked on. George rolled his eyes and quickly ran back to help Paul off the stage again. Paul huffed a thank-you into his ear, but when George asked him about it later, he wouldn't answer.

At the end of the day, Richard still hadn't turned up and George felt glad he had done that session with Michael and allowed him to touch him. As childish as it seemed, it was pay-back. He didn't mention it to Paul, and when they got home, he simply went to bed, figuring he should have a wank first using his favourite magazine. The one Paul hadn't yet found.

That Friday, George went to work with the hope that he would see Ringo again that evening, as it was the day that he had first seen him at the club and therefore knew he could be able to come. The tension between Paul and Stuart was still there, but now John was there again, it seemed less. Or at least more controlled and not as visible. When George asked John about it, John merely grinned and rubbed his hands together mischievously, which made George only more confused. However, he decided that his own little mystery was a little more interesting and instead kept a close eye on the door again. When Richard again hadn't shown up, George tried not to feel disappointed, but he couldn't help it.

Saturday he went to work feeling satisfied. He had finished his essay that morning and had managed to play guitar again all afternoon. He couldn't stop touching his fingertips to feel the roughness there that he had missed so badly. He only noticed Richard still hadn't stopped by again when he was in the car and Paul asked after him. When George went to work again that Tuesday, he didn't even feel disappointed anymore, knowing Richard wouldn't come anymore.

It was almost another week later when George saw Richard again. It was Saturday evening and George had almost forgotten all about him, when he heard the door of the entrance open. Subconsciously, he turned his head to see who it was and he froze on the spot when he recognized those familiar blue-eyes again, even though that happy sparkle that George had been able to find in them before was gone at that moment. Their eyes seemed to meet for a fraction of a second, but that same feeling of recognition didn't seem to exist for the other person, as his face fell and he sat down at a table in the middle of the crowd.

George was shaking on his legs as he stared at Richard. He couldn't believe he was actually there! After such a long time, too. George had already given up on him, not having believed he'd be coming back again. But he had! And he obviously had been looking for him, even though he hadn't been able to recognize him.

He watched from a distance as Richard watched the pretty boys in front of him and drank his alcohol. Occasionally, he could see Richard's gaze go through the crowd, probably in the search of him, but every time George quickly duck away, feeling nervous about seeing him again. It had been so long! What if their meetings hadn't at all been so wonderful and it was only a figment of his imagination? What if it would only be awkward if they would speak again? George didn't particularly want to know. So he kept his distance.

The lights in the club dimmed and George watched as his friend stepped onto the stage wearing short shorts and a tight navy blue sailor-esque shirt with a white scarf. He watched quietly as his friend started to dance, playing the audience perfectly well and capturing their full attention. Even Richard seemed interested, staring at Paul with hungry eyes as he licked his lips. His eyes seemed to be glued to him and it made George's blood boil. Taken by a suddenly rush of determination, George grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter and walked over to Richard, who was still watching his friend strip.

"Hello?" George asked when he was standing near enough. The other man didn't even look at him and merely beckoned George to put the bottle down for him. George did just that, before leaning over and blocking the man's face with his own. He watched as the man's eyes grew wide, now finally recognizing him.

"George?" He asked, sounding surprised, but happy. George refused to feel happy to be recognized. Why was he even here? Why hadn't he come sooner? Hadn't he known he'd wanted him to come again? That perhaps he had been waiting for him? George felt his blood rush even faster when Richard's eyes found Paul again, who was now prancing around in only his underwear and scarf. Everyone seemed to love it. Even Richard.

Feeling a sudden rage come over him because of this face, George smacked Richard's cheek, earning himself a loud gasp and a short cry of pain. Richard looked up at him with a confused and surprised expression, which made George even angrier. He had to leave. He had to think. He didn't want to see Richard ever again. He slapped him hard once more. When he was about to walk away, Richard grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him back.

"What's wrong? Why did you hit me?" He asked, and George felt the urge to laugh at him straight in his face, but he figured himself to be better than that, so he simply pulled himself free and called Richard a cunt before rushing to the bathroom to lock himself away, leaving Richard stunned in his seat.

A/N: Just to let you all know: These parts will be checked by a beta-reader eventually. Excuse any mistakes until then.