Between His Fingers

Chapter 2

warnings: minors in a strip club, reader is disguised as a cocktail waitress, some very mild sexual content, mentions of Dio grooming(?) reader, stand fights, canon typical violence

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one year later

"Find the Joestars, huh?" You muttered under your breath. "Seems easy."

You looked around the Saudi Arabian strip club you were currently disguised as a cocktail waitress for. The disguise was a leather tube dress, accentuating your curves and showing a little window between your tits. It didn't disguise the scars high on your back, covering your shoulders in a crude impression of wings. Your Stand, in materializing, had seared its wings onto your back forever. Your scars didn't bother you.

You were still more than pretty, and decidedly more confident. In just one year, you'd gotten very good at seduction and deception. Dio was a good teacher. You'd practiced in clubs just like this, finding men and making them buy you pretty things, before leaving without so much as a phone number. You were well known in Cairo for this trick. Dio knew how to get his way, and now, so did you. He'd been reluctant to let you leave his mansion, but it was necessary to get rid of the Joestars.

He didn't like you smoking, and only let you do it in the bars you frequented to make money off stupid men. Your loyalty to Dio was such that you were even trying to stop that habit, but in this dark, hazy club, it was hard to not want a fucking cigarette. You took a deep breath and scanned the crowd.

Dio had said they'd be the tallest and worst dressed people there. You held back a snort. Like Dio had room to pass judgement on who was worst dressed. Regardless, the group you were focused on was definitely the tallest. Worst dressed? Debatable. Highly so. It wasn't well lit in here, and they were a few yards away, but the biggest one was wearing some kind of school uniform. It looked tight, but he also looked very good in it. He looked bored, a cigarette dangling from his lips and surrounding them in smoke. Fuck.

The next one was a redhead, with long, messy hair. His outfit was far from messy, being a much tidier school uniform. He looked uptight, but he was still pretty cute. He looked as if he was trying to communicate to the other man there that he didn't want to be there. It was too loud for you to hear anything, the bass pounding in your chest.

The last man was definitely the worst dressed. Even compared to Dio. A black shirt with one strap, slicked up hair, and white pants with boots? Wow. There was a lot of bad taste in that package. He looked drunk to top it off, and was laughing at the redhead.

You started to make your way over. As you came closer, their conversation became audible over the bass.

"Come on, Kakyoin, lighten up! Have a little fun!"

"We shouldn't be here. It's too public. Especially with the blood bond, Dio definitely tracked us here."

You stifled a laugh, coming up to sit on their table. You put on a bubbly, airheaded front and said, "Who's Dio, handsome?"

The redhead glowered. "Nobody."

The biggest one snorted and flicked his cigarette ash behind the seat. You smiled charmingly. "Well, can I get you any drinks, boys?"

The one with slicked up hair nodded, already staring at your legs. The redhead seemed to be trying not to look at your tits, but failing miserably. He was blushing madly. The tall, dark haired one was impassive. He glanced you up and down. "A beer for me. I don't care what kind. The drooling one gets water. Eh! Polnareff!"