Title: Cruiser

Author: Mlle Elizabeth

Author Email: mlleelizabeth@aol.com

Author Webpage

Category: Alternate Universe, Drama

Spoilers For:

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Clark/Lex, Clark/other

Summary: Summary and/or challenge: AU-scenario. Clark's a rent boy and Lex is on the prowl. (MIdKnight).

NOTE: Part of the ClexFest at: http://www.kardasi.com/Lexclusive/ClexFest

Clark started into his new nightly routine. He sat down on a bed in shabby hotel room and looked around at the dingy paint and hideous floral curtains that didn't quite match the bedspread. Clark opened a paper bag and unwrapped and ate his Big Mac. Took out his wallet to count money, then counted it a second time. In his head, did the math on projected earnings and expenses. Sat back, his head hanging and a hand on his forehead.

"There is no way I can come up with $5,000.00 by the end of the month," he thought, despondently. Sure, construction work was easy but boring, and it paid well, but not well enough, as he's making $200 per day and that would only earn him $1,600 minus expenses in 8 days. At that rate, he wouldn't have the money for his parents by next Monday. Maybe he could save some on expenses. Rented by the week, the motel room was $40 a day and he had been spending $30.00 a day on food, but then, he did have to eat. So he was left with around $130 per day. He was tired of deliberately not using his super-strength on the job so he wouldn't be found out. It was even harder than it was back in Smallville, where at least he could use his gifts around the farm. Shit. Dammit. He knew he was lucky to find this construction job so quickly, but it was just not enough. He had to find some way to make this work.

Clark knew there were ways to make a lot of money fast. He'd seen some shady drug dealers working out of this hotel and suspected he could make it that way, but "no!" That was the one thing he knew he would not, no, could not do. He dismissed that line of thought with a shudder.

He looked again through the various newspapers he had collected, including some trashy tabloid papers he picked up on the street outside the motel. There were plenty of jobs and some of them promised impossible amounts of money. The majority of these were ads for "escorts" and such. There were lots of ads under the "Bars and Restaurants" heading as well, but Clark figured that waiting tables wouldn't bring in that much money, even in Metropolis. He knew that construction job pays as well as waiting tables, sometimes even better. Looking on the next page, he spotted a few ads under "entertainers." His eyes traveled quickly down the columns while he muttered to himself, "Female impersonator . . ". grinned and shook his head, trying to imagine himself in a dress. And "what the hell was a pro domme?" There were lots of ads for dancers, mostly for women in "gentlemen's clubs" but also a few advertising for male dancers. Hmmmm ... dancing? That was a possibility. He liked to dance, but would anyone hire him to do it? Clark thought it might be worth a try. And at least dancing wouldn't tempt him to use his powers so much. He didn't think there would be any temptation to super-shimmy. If these ads were correct, he could really bring in the bucks. He gaped at some of the offers on the paper before him. Did dancers really make that much? Oh well, even if they didn't it had to be better than what he was doing now. He thought it would at least be worth the trouble of dropping by one or two of the clubs after work tomorrow.

Clark knew his parents must be frantic with worry by now. He felt very bad about it, and he hoped they were managing okay without him to help with chores. Clark really didn't want to hurt them by leaving, but after hearing his mother's voice, raw from crying and his father so very hopeless sounding, he knew there was no way he could go back to Smallville without the money they needed. Then everything would be all right and his mom would stop crying and his dad would be so proud of him. He wasn't going to let them down.

****
Lex finished his last report for the evening. He dropped it on top of a huge pile of paperwork, got up and went to the window of his office and, gazing down on the street below, recalled the conversation with his father of earlier that day. Smallville! Sure, he'd been even more of a terror since finishing grad school, but sending him to that godforsaken backwater, a place he associated with one of the worst experiences of his life and the source of his premature baldness? Lionel could be a real shit sometimes and this was no exception. He'd have to find some way to make the most of his exile and until that exile, make the most of Metropolis and its more prurient pleasures.

He checked his PDA, looking for a suitable companion for a few last nights of debauchery. Heather, Carol, Mia, all were hot, willing and do their best to make him feel like the king he should be. They were all beautiful: full lips, thick, dark hair and lithe bodies. He smiled, wickedly to himself. He should invite them to visit Smallville from time to time. They all knew how to look sufficiently upstanding to impress the local community. And that meant they really wouldn't do for a last Metropolitan fling. Besides, as much as he knew he would enjoy their company, he didn't feel the spark of excitement with he {them?]that he wanted to fuel his planned fantasy fulfillment. He was definitely in the mood for something different, lately. He needed something less upstanding, someone more in line with pleasure that would be forbidden in a small farming town, someone more ... masculine. Maybe he can come up with someone masculine with full lips, thick, dark hair, big expressive eyes and a hard body.

He ran through his options on his PDA again, this time considering some of the men he's dallied with from time to time. He took out his cell phone and started to dial the number of one of his favorite boytoys, but a thought stopped him halfway through. All of them were good for a fast fuck, but he wanted something more than that this time, maybe even something new. Perhaps this would be a good excuse to go out on the prowl. Of course, there was always the risk he wouldn't find anyone worth his while, but that was a chance he felt like taking.

Resolved to hit the cushier gay bars, Lex went home to prepare for the evening.

***

Tuesday afternoon, after finishing his work at the construction site, Clark took out the page of ads he'd torn from the paper and headed to one of the clubs that was advertising. He was surprised to see so many cars in the parking lot at that early hour. The place must be popular. "That's a good thing," he thought. "More people, more money."

The bouncer looked askance at him, and asked him for ID, but when he explained he was there
about a job and showed him the ad, the man let him in. Once inside, he stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dark and get his bearings. Loud pop disco music blared from speakers throughout the club. The air smelled just slightly of stale beer. There was a big stage towards the back of the club and a DJ booth. Two fairly large stages off to the side and a couple of smaller stages near the front of the club, making a total of five. There is a dancer on each of the stages, moving and thrusting under flashing lights to the beat of a disco song.

Once certain his eyes adjusted and having decided the place isn't so bad, he asked a nearby waiter for the manager and was directed to a table on the opposite side of the room.

Clark approached the table. There was a nicely dressed man seated there, talking to another man. Clark apologized for interrupting and, confronted with the man's impatient stare, said he saw their ad for dancers in the adult entertainment newspaper.

The man nodded and said, "Ah, I see. Well, I am the right person to talk to. I'm the manager, Chester Phillips. Joe, will you excuse us?" He walked Clark back a little further to an area near the DJ and gave Clark a once over. Made him turn around. "So, you want to be a dancer, huh? How old are you, kid?"

"I'm eighteen, sir" said Clark.

Chester said, "Well, you look it, but I need ID anyway.

Clark pulled out his driver's license and let the man scrutinize his ID

"Okay, that will work," Chester said. "Tell me about yourself. Have you ever done this before?"

"No, not ... not for money. I've danced before, though," Clark said. He caught himself defiantly sticking out his lower lip. He didn't want to pout and look like a little kid to this guy. But he wasn't really lying ... he had danced with his friends, at school dances and at a couple of parties.
Chloe had even told him he looked good dancing.

Thinking he had better give evidence of some kind of prior work experience, no matter how irrelevant, Clark then added, "I've been working for Wilson Construction on the new Orchard Glen Development "

"Well you look like you're probably built like a construction worker," Chester said. Taking Clark by the arm, Chester led him to a tiny dressing room, just a couple of counters, 2 urinals, a stall, an overflowing trashcan and a set of steel lockers with flaking yellow paint. Chester handed him a costume he'd taken off a rack. "Let's see how you look in this."

Clark took the outfit, but hesitated looking it over questioningly.

Chester noticed and said, "Are you embarrassed to change in front of me? You'll be dressing in front of the other dancers. You might as well get used to it."

Clark nodded and, though embarrassed, removed his jeans and shirt and put the costume on. He felt very silly in the tight, and very, very short, satin shorts and snug red t-shirt.

"Okay, now shirt and shorts off and let's see what else you have to offer."

"I didn't think this was a nude-dancing job!" Clark said

"It's not, but you will be dancing in just a thong most of the time and the customers will see most of your body then, so I need to see most of your body now."

Clark gulped and stared, wide-eyed. "Oh no ... he felt a blush creeping up his skin!"

Apparently impatient, Chester barked, "Look, I haven't got all day. Either show me what you've got or head on home to mommy."

At this, Clark finally took the t-shirt and shorts off, holding his arms out and turning around, as if modeling. He hoped his blush had faded enough by now to not embarrass him.

"All of it," said Chester.

And Clark hesitated again, but finally complied, removing his boxers, exposing himself entirely.

Chester mumbled something that sounded approving. "That will definitely do. You should make some good tips, boy. You have a great body. Need to see how well you can dance, though."

Clark blushed and shivered a little.

"So, you say you can dance, huh?"

Clark nodded and continued standing there, staring at the floor.

"Were you going to show me how good you are or is that what you consider dancing? I gotta say, you almost look good enough to get away with that, kid, but really, I think you can do better."

At that, Clark gathered his courage and, listening intently to the music that carried in to the dressing room from the main, room of the club, Clark began to move to its beat. From the look on Chester's face, it was apparently not that great. Clark stopped, waiting for some indication of acceptance or rejection from the other man. Unfortunately, Chester just stared at him, his face giving away nothing. The pause became increasingly uncomfortable, and Clark was just about to begin dancing again, when Chester finally said "okay, okay, that's fine then. When can you start?"

Shoulders sagging with relief, Clark replied, "As soon as possible, sir."

Then, while directing Clark's attention to a schedule posted on a bulletin board, Chester said, "I can work you in starting tomorrow night. You'll start at 5:00. Be back here at 4:00 to get dressed before your shift and I'll show you the ropes then. The costume is clean, but most people take them to the cleaners anyway. There's a 24-hour dry-cleaner around the corner. Grab a large thong, also. You can wear other costumes, if you'd like, but you'll have to provide them yourself and show them to me for approval before you get onstage in them. The law is pretty strict about what your thong has to cover in a club that sells alcohol and the owner is pretty strict about what your costume can't cover."

Clark thanked the man, took the costume items and left.

****

Lex started his evening late, in a very nice gay dance club, one he'd never been to before. He was wearing his favorite prowling gear of tight black pants and a his favorite plum silk shirt. He went to the bar and looked around, getting the lay of the land. As he sipped a martini, he formed a strategy for the evening. Casing the room methodically to see what the club had to offer, he determined that there wasn't anyone there who looked exactly right. He continued at the bar, enjoying his martini and chatting with the bartender and a couple of the more interesting patrons. Still not finding exactly what he wanted, he moved on to next part of the night's strategy and went to check out the dance floor. The dancing was actually better than he had expected it to be. It was a good crowd, with a lot of energy, a sea of people writhing under flashing lights to the DJ's generic dance mix. He danced several dances with one of the men he had met at the bar, a rather cute blonde and it was nice. But there was no one on the dance floor who really sparked his interest -- no one no one who fit his "ideal." One in particular groped him, and suggested that they go somewhere and get to know each other. He was tempted, but it just didn't feel right.

He was feeling particularly selective tonight and it just wasn't what he wanted, not what he had in mind ... and Lex Luthor never settled for less than exactly what he wanted....

Oh well, He had a few more days left before he had to leave, so he decided to be patient and went home alone. He could go looking for something a little more risque tomorrow. Maybe go to one of the strip clubs and see what they have to offer. He didn't really like to pay for sex, but some of the nicer clubs had some damned hot guys dancing in them and he was, after all, looking for something illicit for his last big fling.

****

The next afternoon, after sleeping in a little and treating himself to lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant with an all you can eat buffet, Clark got ready to start his new job.

"Time to go to work," he'd had the costume dry cleaned, so now it at least didn't smell like an ashtray. Clark started to put it on under his street clothes, then decided he would feel silly walking to work that way and that he'd just bite the bullet (while wondering absently about that little cliche' and if he did bit the bullet, would the bullet break?) and change in front of the other dancers. It wasn't like he hadn't done something similar, changing in the locker room before gym class. That had never bothered him, but then, that was just different. He could think of this that way, though. He was sure he could.

It was a long 25-block walk if he didn't use his super speed, but it gave him time to either psych himself up or get nervous. When he arrived, he found he'd managed to do a little bit of both. The Funky Flamingo. "Shit, he could never tell anyone about this. Never!" he thought.

Clark entered the Flamingo and noticed things look exactly the same as yesterday. "They must have a pretty steady clientele," he thought.

Still nervous, Clark walked back to the dressing room. There were a couple of other guys hanging out and talking before they started their shift. They were friendly enough, and it helped put him at ease a little. Still, he was reluctant to change in front of them, but once he realized they were more interested in their conversation and their own preparations, Clark went ahead and dressed in his costume. He supposed the blue shorts and tight red t-shirt was meant to be cute, but he really thought he looked a ridiculous in it. He had to admit, though, that it did show off his muscles. Besides, it really didn't matter anyway, because it wouldn't be on him for long as he had to strip down to the thong when he was on stage.

Finally dressed, Clark walked to the door, thinking, "Okay, I don't know what the hell I am supposed to do now, but whatever it is, I'll get through this. I have to. Come on, you can do it, Kent!" With that, Clark took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to start his new job. To his relief, he saw Chester was there waiting for him, outside the dressing room.

Clark looked around the room, trying to figure out what to do then joined Chester outside the door. Taking Clark's arm and leading him to the other side of the room, Chester began to explain how things worked at the Flamingo There's a chart with the rotation in the dressing room. The dancers rotate from stage to stage so that everyone gets a chance at every part of the room and a short "break" after an hour or so.

"You'll start on one of the side stages and towards the end of this shift your you get a turn on the main stage. That's where the most customers and biggest tips are." Chester patted him on the back and shoved him towards a stage and says "do well out there."

Clark didn't go right to the stage, but instead watched for a few minutes, and god, there are all these men and they are all drunk! A couple of them walked by, whispering something unintelligible in Clark's ear. He backed away from them and, glancing towards the door, noticed the bouncer was watching the men, a glare on his face. The DJ started a new song and Clark
shrugged to himself and hopped up on his appointed stage and again hesitated a bit. Chester looked over at him with a "go on and do it" look, so he began moving to the beat of the song that was pouring through the club's sound system. "It's not so awful," he thought, though he did feel pretty self-conscious at first. He knew he was much taller and just, *bigger* than the other dancers. And then one of the men approached the stage with a bill in his hand and Clark smiled at him and the guy was touching him and oh, wow ... just slipped the bill in his thong and then stepped back to continue watching appreciatively and then the next song started and Clark took off his t-shirt and tossed it behind him on the stage and a few more men have came over to watch him and he did like the attention and they kept slipping money into his thong and that part is really okay because even though he couldn't see how much money it was, he knew it had to be adding up. So Clark tried to really put his heart into his dancing and it finally began to feel good.

The music was mostly peppy pop tunes, but still pretty danceable, mixed in with some old disco tunes. Finally, after an hour or so, he finished that shift and it was time to take his break. Clark walked back to the dressing room, not really glad for the break, as he had just managed to get his head really into his dancing. On his way to the back Clark was intercepted by Chester, who asked him "how's it going?" and, with a pat on his back gently steered Clark away from the dressing room.

"It's okay, I guess," Clark told him.

"You look good out there, kid."

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Clark said. He then smiled and added "I told you I could dance."

"You did and you can," said Chester And you really do look good up there. It could be even better, though. You could be making even more. How much did you make in tips that shift?"

"How? asked Clark while he looked through the tips that had been stuffed in his thong and found he'd earned forty dollars.

"Spend a little time with some of these guys ... make them feel good."

Clark stared back, wide-eyed, not understanding. "You mean talk to them? While I'm dancing?"

"No, no, between shifts ... and it's not so much talking they're after. I'm sure you can find a more profitable use for your mouth ... you can, you know, pick up some extra money for yourself on the side, just make sure the club gets it's cut. I'll even help you meet some nice guys."

Suddenly Chester's meaning became clear to Clark and he started to panic. "I don't want to do that," said Clark. "I just want to dance."

"You'll never make real money unless he do a little work on the side," said Chester. "You've seen how much money some of the other guys in here are making, right? You think Phil over there bought a Lexus off tips from dancing? Even if you do just a little, some lap dances or maybe a hand job, you can really rake in some cash. And if you want some real money a blowjob or two. Really, it's no big deal."

Clark considered what Chester was saying very carefully. He was still very reluctant, but the money was very tempting and he knew he needed to make more than he was earning at the present.

Chester pressed on, " Look, I already lined up your first job, so just come back here and hey, Joe, here you go ... You guys have a nice time," and without giving Clark a chance to think much, or even say no, Chester walked Clark and the customer Joe guy back to another room by the dressing room that Clark hadn't noticed before, closed the door and left Clark alone with
the man.

And suddenly it was dark and there was not much furniture, just a table with a small lamp and a bowl with some little packets in it and some sort of dark brown carpet and a small stereo system that wasn't turned on but had a little box with some tapes by it and a chair, but Clark could still see the room and who was in the room with him and the man he was with was older,
older than Clark's father, even and nicely dressed, sorta, but ewwww and Clark was horribly nervous and didn't even want to touch the guy, who didn't bother to introduce himself or anything and maybe that was for the better, but now the guy was talking and said something like "What's the matter, boy? I paid for you to suck my cock not stand around staring at the floor so get to it" and he didn't even bother to sit down, either, just unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers and looked at Clark ... reached over to a small table with a bowl of condoms, picked one up and tore the packet open. Clark was staring as the man rolled the condom on himself and the then looked down at him again and just shook his head and so Clark swallowed his pride and what felt like a ton of air and spit and reached out and with a shaking hand touched the guy and it felt ... like nothing and everything awful all at once. "Well, here goes," Clark thought. "At least the guy's wearing a condom so I'm not really touching him."

And then the guy said, "Hey, I didn't hire you for some lame hand job, either," and Clark blinked up at him and realizes what the guy meant and oh god, he doesn't want to do this.

So he again remembered his mom, crying, the day before he left and the way his dad sounded so tired and he can't let them down so he closed his eyes and just ...licked. And if he didn't think about what he was doing at all, it wasn't so horrible and it tasted funny, but maybe that's just the latex and maybe he can get through this and get the money. And he took as much as he could of the guy's dick in his mouth and it stretched his jaw a little, and made him even more uncomfortable, but the guy seemed to like it and was moaning and god, now he was thrusting himself into Clark's mouth and then moaning more loudly and pulling Clark's hair and then he suddenly stopped and ... that was it. All over with. His first time and that was it. And god, is that what sex is? And Clark was disappointed in himself and in the experience and just ... everything and the guy took off the condom and pulled up his pants and zipped them and without another word to Clark, placed his money on the little table and left.

Clark couldn't move at first. Just sat there, on the floor, his head in his hands, trying to process what just happened. Well, it wasn't the end of the world, but it certainly wasn't what he'd hoped his first time would be like. He'd imagined ... well, he'd imagined all sorts of things, but mostly that he would be with someone special, someone he at least cared about, or thought was hot or something. His eyes started burning a little and he tried to focus on the floor without x-raying through it, and his fingers were grasping and tearing at the carpet and heard himself rip it up but his mind was too far away to stop himself and he felt completely numb and oh god, what had he done and nothing, nothing, nothing .. it wasn't really his first time, it was just a job and look at the money, Clark, think about that and he threw back his shoulders and tried to calm himself and picked up the money off the table, stood up, pulled on his shorts and t-shirt and walked out.

Back in the main room the music was thrumming and Chester spotted him and came over and said, " Well done, Clark," and while they're still back in the back out of view Chester took his cut of the money and patted Clark on the back and said something about, "You may just have a very lucrative night."

"I shouldn't have done this," Clark thought, his mind reeling. "It was just wrong!" He would stop now. Leave and go back and ... and what? Go home with only half the money he needed? Clark sighed to himself. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't. He decided he'd rather be damned if he did and at least secure his family's future.

Clark suddenly felt nauseous and walked back into in the little dressing room, splashed some cold water on his face and then he felt a little less dazed but his mind was still completely numb and, not thinking about what he was doing or why, went back out to the main room, jumped up on one of the little stages and started dancing to whatever song was playing , because if he kept his mind blank he could do this but if he started to think at all, he knew he would totally loose it.
He mechanically took the shorts off and was down to his thong and he didn't even notice when guys came up and slipped bills in it. A few of them offered to buy him a drink. He was tempted; it would have been nice to numb his mind even more, but not knowing the effect of alcohol on his alien body, Clark turned them down.

Clark made it through the rest of the night, somehow. He did a few more little "jobs" in the back room and Chester seemed proud of him and when the club was finally closing for the night he gave Chester the club's share of his money and put his jeans and jacket back on and left. A couple of the other dancers, not the ones he'd met at the beginning of the night, said goodnight to him but he said nothing back, just went out into the night and slowly walked back to his dingy hotel.

Halfway home, his eye caught a glimpse of a sleek silver Porsche gliding through the intersection and slowing a bit as it went by him, a gleaming motorized moon in stark contrast against the black night. He shivered, crossed his arms against his chest and pulled in tight, suddenly feeling
like some sort of otherworldly prey.

Back in his room he pulled his clothes off quickly but was careful not to rip them. He didn't have many clothes there. Then he headed straight for the shower and got the water as hot as he could stand and just stood under the spray for long minutes and then picked up the little hotel soap and scrubbed until it was gone and then stood under the spray some more until it was getting cold and then got out and began brushing his teeth and alternated brushing and rinsing with the little motel bottle of mouthwash until his gums were sore and then put on a t-shirt and boxers and went to lie down on his bed. He noticed he was hungry. His stomach was rumbling. He should have stopped at an all night diner or a fast food place to get some food, but he wasn't even thinking, and he didn't want to put clothes on, or go back out now, and besides, he thought it would probably make him throw up if he ate, so he just lay there, hungry and numb and wanting this night to never have happened and then his eyes start burning again and he could see his mother's face and he feels like he's lost every possibility and god, what is he doing here and it wasn't supposed to be like this but hell, he's a man now and he can handle this and he turns over and dozes until late morning.

Clark woke up starving, so he hurriedly dressed and went for breakfast and then back to the little room with 2 of everything on the McDonald's breakfast menu. After eating, he finally got around to adding his earnings from the previous night to his savings. It was hard at first. He really didn't want to touch the bills, much less add them to his pile and count them, but it was a necessary evil if he was going to figure out how he was doing, so he rifled through the money, twice, did the projected earnings thing again and determined that he was not doing quite as well as he'd hoped.. It was definitely better than the construction job, at least in terms of earnings. He'd brought in $500 in tips. So now he had $500.00 - $70 or so plus the $420.00 he has left from construction job. It was still not going to be enough, but maybe last night was a slow night and the tips would be better tonight.

Clark wished he had his telescope. He missed looking at the stars. The most he's had there was an old astronomy book and even though it offered some comfort, it's just not the same. He missed watching Nell and Lana across the way. Their homey routine always brought him comfort. With a sigh he counted the money he had earned from the previous night again and added it to his growing collection. He ate the fast food without tasting it. Clark wished he had some of mom's pancakes. He wished he could talk to Pete or Chloe, but they'd never understand and they'd tell his parents. Maybe he could just call and tell them he was okay and ask them to tell his folks that. He picked up the phone to call but then he couldn't remember if either Pete or Chloe had Caller ID and didn't want to risk it, so he hung up the phone without dialing. Damn! He missed his parents and his friends and the farm.

But it was time to go back to work, so Clark grabbed his costume and went back to the club. He muttered hellos at his fellow dancers, and resignedly started his night. He must have been letting his bad mood show through, because Chester said some nonsense to him about a perky smile bringing better tips. Well, he needed those tips, so Clark plastered a smile on his face and began to dance.

****

Later that evening, Lex rolled up in front of the Funky Flamingo in his limo. He didn't want to take one of his own cars in case someone noticed his rather conspicuous license plates. This was not the appropriate time and place for showing off the Luthor name.

After telling his driver he would call when he was ready to leave, Lex went to door and told the bouncer he would like to visit this club, but that they had better be discrete. Slips him some extra money.

The bouncer assured him that in this club, everybody pretended that everyone else was a stranger and every customer was treated well. They took pride in catering to a high class of customer.

Sufficiently confident in the bouncer's guarantee, Lex entered the club and stood by the door, taking in the scenery. A host seated him at a table and he sat back to watch the dancers on the stages. He was pleasantly surprised; there were some nice looking dancers here. The place was one of the better strip clubs in Metropolis. He looked to one of the side stages and caught sight of a beautiful dancer on one of the side stages. The young man was just incredibly; perfectly muscled, and with huge hazel eyes and the prettiest, poutiest lips he had ever seen on a guy. He was exactly what Lex had imagined in his fantasies for this weekend. And wham! Lex had an instant erection, and this guy was just exactly what Lex was looking for, just what he needed for a night of debauchery: a boy who looks innocent while sucking cock. This boy has the exact full dark hair and lush lips he'd dreamed of. Lex bided his time, watching the young man dance ... moved closer in every so often and never took his eyes off Clark.

He noticed the dancer looking back at him from time to time. When he looked, there was an occasional little spark in his eyes, but Lex wasn't sure if it was a spark of interest in the music, or if he had noticed Lex watching him. Otherwise the guy seemed to go through the motions just fine but seems somehow mechanical.

"Oh well," Lex thought. Lots of the dancers seemed that way. After all Lex knew that Metropolitan life could easily lead to being jaded. Hell, he was the poster boy for jaded Metropolitan cynicism himself. But on this guy, it was really a shame. The beautiful dancer had something special and it really shouldn't be wasted in a gay strip bar, even if this was one of the better ones. This guy could at least model, if not star in good quality porn flicks. Well, Lex had some acquaintances with connections, so maybe he could help the guy out with that. But first, he would like a little taste himself. He decided to talk to the dancer and ask him to meet him later somewhere, after work.

At the end of the next set of music, Lex followed the man with his eyes to the next stage. Then two more times and the young man was done with his shift and Lex noticed he went back towards the back of the club, where an officious looking man in a suit stopped him and talked to him and nodded towards the door to a back room. "Uh oh," thought Lex. "He has a deal worked out with the club. So this is the guy I need to talk to if I want to make some time with this entrancing dancer." It was not Lex's preferred way to handle the arrangements. He would much rather do without a middle man, or at least use his own, but he knew how this business worked and he didn't want to make any enemies here, or cost the dancer his job.

Lex waited until the young man entered the back room, then approached the gentleman he had been speaking with for an introduction. It turned out to be the manager of the Flamingo, and fortunately, rather than being difficult, he was actually quiet nice, almost to the point of obsequiousness. The man said his name was Chester, and, apparently recognizing Lex, called him "Mr. Luthor," without being told. He gave the same assurances as to the club's insistence on privacy for its patrons and asked him if he would like something to drink such as a nice bottle of champagne? Lex accepted the offer and let Chester lead him to what appeared to be the best
table in the house and sat back to watch more of the show while he waited both for the champagne the young man in whom he had expressed an interest..

Minutes later, Chester returned with the now somewhat flustered dancer -- Chester was whispering to him and Lex reflected that he was probably explaining exactly what a Luthor was and he should be sure and get some real money from him. It was the sort of thing he expected, but it still grated on him.

Once at the table, Chester introduced the young man to Lex as "Clark."

"Won't you please join me?" Lex asked, as Chester motioned for Clark to sit down at the table and for the waiter to bring another glass.

They made small talk for a minute. Lex could tell that Clark was nervous, but covering it well. That shy innocence wouldn't work for most, but Clark was definitely getting away with it. In fact, Lex thought that on him, it was very hot and even a little sweet. It was a refreshing change from the usual Metropolitan jadedness that most dancers he had met exhibited.

Lex took Clark's hand across the table and squeezed it gently, smirked a bit and said, "Let's go talk someplace a little more private."

Clark nodded and stood up, then walked away from the table. Lex followed him to the back room, a waiter following with the bottle of champagne and glasses. Clark put on some music. Lex found himself in a small, dark room with spartan, but comfortable furnishings and Lex didn't think much of it, but the company could be more than worth it. Clark still seemed nervous to him, but oh god, he was so pretty and so perfectly what he was looking for.

Lex asked Clark if he would like some of the champagne before he started. Clark yes, and they sit quietly drinking for a few minutes. After a few minutes, Clark got up and put some music on the little stereo, a soft, sensuous song that he could do a slow, sexy dance to.

Lex sat back in the chair with a glass of wine and watched Clark dance for a while. The young man really was a good dancer. He swayed and writhed to the music, showing off his hard torso and long legs. Halfway through the song, knelt in front of Lex, ran his hands along Lex's legs, still in time to the music. He then progressed up Lex's chest and, when he reached the top, unbuttoned a few buttons of Lex's shirt, then a few more, then slowly pulled the sides of his shirt open and stroked Lex's smooth chest, still in time to the music. Clark closed his eyes and shivered, licked his lips? moaned, then sat up a little and ran his hands up Lex's thighs until Lex's hard cock was pressing against his hand, rubbed his hand against Lex while he thrust to the music. Lex smiled down at him and moaned softly.

At the end of that song, Clark climbed back out of Lex's lap and got back on his knees. Lex ran his hands through Clark's hair and fingers over his lips. Clark unzipped Lex's pants and placed his hands under Lex, encouraging him to sit up out of the chair while Clark pulled his pants and silk boxers down. He watched as Clark stopped to take a long look at his body. Lex looked at him blankly for a second, worried that Clark is going to freak and refuse to do anything else, but not wanting his concern to be evident. "God, please no, not this time," Lex thought. But Clark just smiled shyly at him and then ran both his hands over Lex's entire crotch, apparently enjoying himself. Lex relaxed, then and Clark again ran one hand over Lex's hard cock. Clark fingered his balls, then bent his head down to lick, keeping one hand at the base and gradually taking Lex into his mouth. Lex completely abandoned himself to the sensation as it built to a climax.

Lex wasn't particularly used to cuddling after sex, especially with a stranger, but he couldn't resist his desire to hold Clark after he came. He held as long as he thought Clark would allow, not wanting to face the commercial aspect of the situation. Damn it, he really liked this guy. He
didn't want it to be just a faceless, nameless business transaction. But that's all it was, he reminded himself, and finally pulled away from Clark and, trying to take the sting out of what he was doing, at least for himself, pulled bills out of his wallet without even looking at them, and
pressed them into Clark's hand. He wanted to get away now, go home and pretend this happened a different way, and that this young man could come home with him and stay a little while. He still had a some time left before he had to leave for exile, so, he told Clark he hoped they could do this again sometime and left.

****

"Another day, another few hundred dollars," Clark thought, as he walked to the Flamingo the next afternoon. As was becoming routine, Clark went straight to the dressing room to change his clothes and mentally prepare for his evening's work. Tonight there was a small group of his fellow dancers lounging around in the little room, smoking and talking. Clark said hellos to them and went about dressing.

He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help but notice that several of them looked even more muscled than he was. He guessed that they must work out a lot. Then his eye caught that of one of them, who was clearly checking him out. "So what do you take?" the other man asked.

"Huh?" replied Clark, confused.

And thus began one of the most uncomfortable conversations of Clark Kent's life. He knew about drug use, of course. He had to learned about it in school. It was some requirement of the state school system, but he'd always shoved the particulars into the back of his mind, figuring that with his odd metabolism none of them would work on him anyway. The other men tossed around names of different drugs, some of which Clark thought might be steroids. He told them he didn't use those and that he grew up on a farm and worked out. A couple of them scoffed at him. Clark really didn't care; he just wanted to finish dressing and start his shift.

He tried to ignore the men as they joked around with each other about speed and coke and X. One of them tried to offer something to Clark. He was freaked out by it all, but didn't want them to think he is weird, or backward or a kid. Finally he was finished dressing and, with a quick "bye" hurried out of the dressing room to start work.

The whole conversation was really disconcerting. Clark was well aware that there was plenty of drug use in the world, and he knew he shouldn't have been shocked to find it here at the Flamingo. It was just that he had created a mental image of the place and his current job and that had not been part of it. Clark firmly pushed the conversation to the back of his mind and lost himself in his dance.

**

Lex was actually surprised to find himself standing inside the Flamingo again the next night. He'd been thinking about Clark on and off all day, and yes, he would admit that he had wanted to see the young man again even as soon as he left last night, but hadn't realized that he was so intrigued by him that he couldn't resist coming back for more so quickly. He caught himself slinking around the room, furtively sneaking glances at Clark as he danced. He was vaguely distressed when he saw Clark take a man back to the back room at Chester's direction. "What the fuck has gotten into me," Lex asked himself. He didn't usually get attached to his sex partners and he certainly didn't get jealous over them. There was just something about this particular guy that threw all of his usual patterns out of whack. It was disarming in a strangely thrilling way.

Lex sipped at a drink and tried to decide just what it was that was affecting him so while he waited for Clark to finish with his customer. The kid was definitely good at what he did, both dancing and sucking cock. On the other hand, there was the undertone of innocence and goodness about him. Something about Clark just didn't seem quite "right," but it oddly wasn't
a negative thing. Lex wondered if maybe he has some sort of secret life. He grinned to himself, imaging Clark as some sort of Warrior Angel-type superhero by day and male prostitute by night. The concept was just too silly.

Finally, Clark returned to the Flamingo's main room and Lex would have an opportunity to speak with him. He walked to the back, hoping to catch him before he either disappeared into the dressing room or hopped up onto one of the stages. Wit