Unfortunate Pleasure

The pole dancing lesson should have been horrible.

Craig had been wearing high heels at work long enough to stop finding the sensation remarkable, but there was a considerable difference between clicking down an office corridor in knee-high boots and attempting to manoeuvre his body around a brass pole while wearing a tiny pink string bikini and latex thigh-high platform boots. The outfit had been Melody's idea, naturally. When she'd seen his new blonde hair and elaborate updo, she'd practically squealed with delight, insisting that such a spectacular makeover deserved a proper celebration.

Apparently, the celebration involved showing off as much of Craig's body as possible.

"You look absolutely divine!" Melody had announced, circling him as he emerged from the changing room. "And the pink is perfect with your hair. Honestly, Craig, whoever did this has an eye for glamour."

Craig had muttered something that might have been a thank you. He'd wanted to complain. He'd wanted to point out that he hadn't asked for the makeover, that his hair had been magically transformed without his permission, and that he was considerably less enthusiastic about showing up to work in an outfit that covered less than most of the underwear in his dresser.

Instead, he'd smiled and let Melody fuss over him.

That was becoming a habit.

Yet something unexpected had happened once the music started. The bikini barely registered after the first few minutes. Neither did the boots, despite their towering platforms and stiletto heels. Craig had expected to feel exposed and awkward, painfully aware of every inch of skin on display. Instead, the outfit seemed to make the movements easier. There was less fabric to catch or restrict him, and the boots felt so natural that his feet barely noticed the height.

His body simply knew what to do.

The music pulsed through the studio, vibrating in the polished floor beneath his feet. Violet-tinted lights gleamed against the brass poles, and the mirrored walls reflected a dozen versions of Craig moving through the same routine. He spun, caught the pole behind his knee and swung out in a controlled arc. His long blonde hair remained securely arranged, the carefully sculpted curls framing his face as he turned. A moment later, he landed lightly on his heels and flowed straight into the next movement.

Melody applauded.

"Beautiful! That's it, Craig! You're getting so good at this!"

Craig barely heard her.

He was too busy moving.

The pole felt like an extension of his body, something he could lean into, pull against and trust to hold him. He shifted his weight, slid his hands along the brass and turned, his legs extending with a precision he couldn't have imagined possessing a few weeks earlier. Every movement seemed to lead naturally into the next. The music filled the gaps between thoughts until, for a little while, there was nothing to do but follow it.

And that was the most disturbing part.

He enjoyed it.

Not in the sense that he had decided pole dancing was an acceptable career development activity, or that he suddenly wanted to perform in front of his boss, Daniel Mercer, and a roomful of executives. He still thought the whole situation was ridiculous. But the movement itself was satisfying in a way he couldn't deny. His body was capable of things that would once have seemed impossible, and using those abilities felt good.

Craig hated that the gods had managed to take something he'd never wanted and make it pleasurable.

He hated even more that the pleasure was so real.

Still, the embarrassment he'd expected never quite arrived. By the time Melody called an end to the session, Craig was flushed from exertion, his legs pleasantly tired and his mind occupied by matters far more pressing than the amount of skin showing above his boots.

Daniel Mercer.

His new roommate.

The thought was considerably less appealing than the dancing.

After a quick shower and a change back into his work clothes of his short skirt and blouse, Craig made his way to the waiting limousine. Magically, his blonde hair had been restored to its elaborate arrangement the moment he stepped out of the shower, every curl sitting exactly where it belonged. It would have seemed shocking to him had he not experienced the rest of the insane things the gods had put him through in the past two weeks. The driver greeted him cheerfully, apparently pleased to see his favourite streamer again, and opened the door.

The investors had kindly extended his use of the limousine until he returned to the office to collect his pink Volkswagen Beetle. Craig was grateful. Not because he'd had too much champagne at brunch. He'd barely touched it. But the thought of navigating rush-hour traffic while considering the implications of moving into his boss's house was enough to make him question whether he should be trusted behind the wheel.

He settled into the leather seat and stared out the window as the city moved past. What exactly was his life becoming? When he'd accepted the management position, he'd imagined a promotion. More responsibility. A little more money. Perhaps a path towards senior leadership, if he worked hard enough.

Instead, he'd spent his days baking cookies, washing dishes, answering calls, repairing Daniel's wardrobe and attending pole dancing lessons disguised as professional development. The fashion show had been humiliating enough, and now he was expected to perform at a recital later in the week.

All of that had happened before breakfast on a Tuesday.

And now the investors wanted him to move in with Daniel. The money was unreasonably good. That was the only reason Craig hadn't immediately refused. The assignment might provide the leverage he'd been looking for, perhaps even an opportunity to build enough wealth and influence to free himself from the gods' expectations. But he had a feeling that the arrangement wasn't going to be pleasant. More than that, he had a feeling Eros, Thalia and the other deities who had turned his life into their shared pastime would absolutely love it.

Craig could practically imagine Euphrosyne's reaction. She'd probably find the entire situation delightful. His boss becoming his roommate? A secret assignment? A new set of opportunities for reality to become even more ridiculous?

She'd be thrilled.

Craig rubbed his face carefully, mindful of the makeup Gerald had applied that morning.

"Just one thing at a time," he muttered.

The limousine pulled into the office parking lot shortly afterwards. Craig thanked the driver, collected his purse and stepped out, the familiar pink Volkswagen waiting a few spaces away. He retrieved his keys, checked his reflection in the window out of habit, and walked back towards the building.

Daniel was seated at his desk when Craig approached the office, looking through a collection of papers. His face brightened immediately.

"Craig!"

Craig stopped in the doorway.

"I hear you've had some bad news."

Here we go.

Daniel stood and came around the desk, concern written across his face.

"A burst pipe, asbestos, and a termite treatment? All at once? My goodness, you've had some terrible luck."

Craig had to work to keep his expression neutral. The investors had certainly been thorough in constructing their story. Apparently, his apartment had developed enough problems to make the building uninhabitable, and now he had nowhere to stay for several days. It was so absurd that it almost deserved admiration.

"Yeah," Craig said. "It's been... a lot."

"Well, don't you worry about it." Daniel put a hand on Craig's shoulder. "I've got plenty of room at my place. Until you get back on your feet, you can crash with me."

Craig tried to look surprised.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, my good man!" Daniel gave him a friendly squeeze. "Living alone can be, well, lonely. You'll be doing me a favour, in fact. It gets awfully quiet in that house, and it'll be nice having some company."

Craig managed a smile.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He was going to act as if he needed a great many things from Daniel over the next few days. A place to sleep was only the beginning. If he was going to get close to him, to understand him, he'd have to integrate himself into all aspects of his life.

"How do we arrange it?" Craig asked.

Daniel looked almost offended.

"What, you think I'm going to make you organise your own rescue?" He laughed. "Come on. You've never been over, have you? We'll head out now. Follow me in your car and park behind mine in the driveway."

Craig nodded.

"Sounds good."

"Oh, and one other thing." Daniel returned to his desk and picked up his phone, checking a message before looking back at Craig. "The investors contacted me earlier. They said they've already arranged for some clothes and supplies to be delivered to my house for you. Apparently, they want to make the transition as easy as possible."

Craig winced.

Transition.

"That's very generous of them," he said carefully.

"Absolutely. They're really taking an interest in you, Craig. I think you should be proud of yourself."

Daniel sounded so pleased that Craig almost felt guilty for knowing more than he was supposed to.

Almost.

"Thank you."

"Now, I live in Bellehaven," Daniel explained. "It's a bit of a drive, but hopefully the traffic won't be too bad."

Bellehaven.

Of course he lived in Bellehaven. Craig had driven through the neighbourhood before, usually on his way somewhere else. The houses were enormous, the lawns meticulously maintained, and the driveways filled with expensive vehicles. It was the sort of place where people hired landscapers to maintain the gardens and had dedicated rooms for things Craig hadn't known people needed rooms for.

Daniel had never struck him as particularly flashy, but then again, Craig was beginning to understand how little he knew about the man he worked for.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Craig said, laying the reassurance on thick. "Thank you again for letting me stay. I know it's a lot to ask."

"Nonsense. I'm happy to help." Daniel picked up his jacket and checked that he had his keys. "I just hope I don't cramp your style. I'm not used to having a roommate, and one as pretty as you will have my neighbours talking!"

Craig felt his cheeks warm. There was no easy way to respond to that. A few weeks ago, the remark would have been unthinkable. Now it was simply another awkward moment to navigate, another casual reminder that the world had developed a completely different understanding of him.

He forced a laugh.

"Well, I'll try not to cause too much trouble."

"I'm sure you'll be a delight."

Daniel headed towards the door.

Craig followed, keeping his expression pleasant even as his thoughts churned. He was going to be living with his boss. He was going to be documenting Daniel's life for a group of investors. He was going to be paid handsomely for doing it, which somehow made the whole thing more complicated rather than less. And tonight, he would find out exactly what kind of home Daniel Mercer lived in, what kind of man he was outside the office, and whether Craig could manage to keep his cover intact while sharing a roof with him.

At least there was money involved.

At least there was a plan.

Craig paused beside the pink Beetle and looked at Daniel's car, parked near the exit. Then he glanced down at himself, at the carefully chosen outfit, the tall boots and the blonde hair that still felt like somebody else's.

Do it for the money.

He opened the car door and slid inside.

Don't forget. This is your way out.

He hoped.