It was the exact opposite, actually. Each room was decorated for a different theme (Winter Wonderland, Summer Get-Away, Midnight) and was thoroughly cleaned and inspected after every use. It was designed almost like a normal bedroom. A kind sized bed. A small dresser beside it (filled with condoms and toys in case the guy wanted to have a little fun – though that cost extra), and a long body mirror.

Kurt was shocked by all this when he first started working. He never knew how innocent you could make a place look; especially one so . . . not innocent. Then again, Sylvester may have been a money-hungry wench sometimes, but even she knew a lawsuit before it would even come.

Turning back from his thoughts, Kurt found Blaine as a timidly close distance. Their hands had been touching since they first walked off, but from the moment they walked behind that black curtain, their bodies remained less than ten inches apart.

It was accustom for the client to choose which room they would go to, but when Kurt asked, he received the typical client answer: doesn't matter. Picking his favorite, though rarely used, Kurt took Blaine to the Forest Twilight room. He didn't exactly know why it was his favorite, but it was. The colors were darkish green and blue, with a bit of brown, and white, and sky blue thrown in. It gave a very late summer, bitter spring vibe; one Kurt enjoyed greatly, though he told no one.

Switching on the light, Kurt walked into the middle of the room, leaving Blaine to stand by the door, staring in shock.

"Impressed?" Kurt ventured after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, kinda. It's uh . . . not really what I had in mind." Blaine answered, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You're not the first to think that. Sue takes care of this place; it's her baby after all." Blaine nods, but says nothing. His eyes stay on the floor for a long moment as he sway's his body back and forth slowly. Kurt gives in finally, having never seen this sort of reaction before. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Blaine looks up suddenly, his hands pulled out from his pockets and beginning to fold across his chest. "Oh! Yeah. Totally."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah." Blaine answers quickly. Kurt says nothing, but he doesn't need to speak to tell Blaine he knows he's lying. "I'm fine, honestly. I guess I'm a bit . . . I don't. A bit nervous."

Blaine winces at the word, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. Kurt tries to hide his surprise and he guessed it worked well, because Blaine didn't say anything about it. Instead he went back to staring at the floor. Kurt wasn't used to someone being nervous when it same to sex. Most of his clients were either too drunk or too hard to even worry about anything. Once he even had to bump up the price, because the guy was too drunk and hard to even put the condom on correctly and even tried to bite Kurt while he was doing it for him.

But this was Blaine. Blaine, who took weeks to even ask Kurt to dance; who would talk to him about music, and art, and fashion, and movies. And who would blush like a high school girl whenever he was given a compliment. It was no secret Blaine was different from most clients . . . from most men.

"Don't worry, I get that a lot." He lies, hoping to sooth the man before him. Blaine half smiles, looking up with large puppy-like eyes.

Kurt could look into those eyes forever, but something stops him. In the corner of his eye, he notices the security camera in the corner of the wall, blinking red. Kurt always thought it was off that Sue kept a camera in the room, though she swore it was to make sure no funny business was going on while they clients and dancers were alone.

Kurt also knew that, just like on the floor, if you pass a certain time mark, you're out. If nothing with went on after five minutes alone together, Sue would come barging in, throwing Blaine out and keeping the money for herself. Not wanting either of those things to happen, Kurt got down to business.

"Well, we should probably get started." He says, cleaning his throat. "In the upper draw of the dresser we have condoms and lube. They differ in types, flavors, and sizes. Feel free to choose whichever you like."

Blaine nods, listening to each other Kurt says carefully.

"Um, the second draw is filled with toys." Blaine's eyes meet Kurt's the moment the word is said, though he says nothing. "All are good for use, though it cost extra."

"I think I'll be alright." Blaine says breathlessly, smiling shyly.

"Alright. Well, I guess there's one last thing." Blaine watches Kurt, waiting. "Top or bottom?"

"P-pardon?"

"Do you want to be top or bottom? I've done both and it's the clients choice whether he wants to be catching or pitching."

"Oh!" Blaine says; eyes wide as he catches Kurt's drift. "Um, t-top."

Kurt nods, turning his head to hide his smile and possible blush. It's somewhat obvious Kurt's attracted to him, has been since he first laid his eyes on him. But that wasn't why he liked him. No, looks weren't everything to Kurt. They never were. It was the way he laughed and smiled. How he would act like a total gentlemen, even in a place that's utterly and completely gentlemen-less. He made Kurt feel . . . well, human. Not just like some nameless Cheeri-Ohs! dancer.

"I, um, I guess we better get started." Blaine's words cut into Kurt's thoughts, bringing him back into reality. He was there, with Blaine, who had just paid for a room. A room in which things will be going down in. And by down, I mean sweet, sweet, man on man sex.

Nodding in agreement, Kurt turns and sits on the mattress, looking so small and fragile against the giant dark-blue sea of sheets beneath him. Blaine watches him for a moment, but then he's on the move. Swift like a jackrabbit, Blaine is by his side, sitting inches away from him.

His brown eyes switch back and forth between Kurt's eyes and his lips, and Kurt knows what he's thinking. That act was forbidden at club CO. No matter how much they paid, a dancer and a client were to never kiss. It was far too intimate and that's not what Cheeri-Ohs! was about.

Kurt knew he should say something, but the moment Blaine lifted his hand and cupped his cheek, he couldn't help but to lean into it, sighing softly. His eyes flickered to the camera just above Blaine's head and he knew Sylvester was watching. He also knew he'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble if he let this continue.

Forcing his eyes closed, Kurt pushed away his own desire; that feeling that ran throughout his entire body, Kurt found his voice.

"Blaine,"

"I'm sorry."

Kurt's eyes broke up, but it was too late. Blaine was standing, walking away from the bed, from Kurt.

"W-what?"

"I'm sorry, Porcelain, I can't do this." Blaine explained quickly.

"What? Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt turned towards him, reaching out, but Blaine was already out of reach.

He shook his head as he backed away, his eyes dark with despair. "I'm sorry, I just . . . I can't do this. I have . . . I have to go." Blaine opened the door to leave, but stopped and turned one last time. His eyes met Kurt's and for a second, it looked like he was going to say something, an explanation. Turning away, he mutters one last "I'm sorry" before heading out the door.

Kurt stares at it without a word, his head cocking to the side in sheer confusion.

What?