Summary: How has Joey been supporting his huge appetite and drunken father with time to spare for school and duels? Why, a secret, sexy job at a gentleman's club, of course! When a business associate of Seto Kaiba treats him to a "mystery dance," blindfold included, will they both have a heart attack? Or will the next dance be 'on the house'? Joey and Seto Yaoi (if you hadn't gathered).

6/6/08: Hello! Long time, ne? Hope everyone's not too angry with me! I've decided to MAKE time, since I realized I was never going to stop being busy. This is the improved (hopefully) and revised version. After so long, I felt it needed a bit of a lift. Honestly, it's more tweaked than revised. I barely changed anything, I promise. And yes, of course, there's a new chapter to cap it off.

Disclaimer: I do own things, you know, nothing very exciting, but I feel I should point out that Yugioh, its characters, and all affiliated affiliates are not among them. Thank you and enjoy the show (because I know Seto's gonna!).

Puppy's Paradise

Chapter 1: An Odd Proposal

Seto Kaiba gathered the last of his documents from the huge desk in the board room and placed them neatly in his briefcase. He shut it with a soft snap, reset the combination with a firm spin of the dials, and addressed his visitors in an even voice. "Thank you, gentlemen. We've accomplished quite a bit in the last week, and it's been a pleasure. I know I speak for everyone at Kaiba Corporation when I welcome you and Delicorp Co. to our fold. I look forward to doing business with you gentlemen and your enterprise in the near future, and I hope that this is the start of a long and mutually profitable relationship between our companies."

He dropped his head in the slightest of slight bows, keeping his eyes level with their faces, his neck straightening half of a second later. Four heads bowed deeply, eyes to the floor, swift and synchronized. Mr. Saki, the senior representative for Delicorp, grasped Seto's hand and shook it firmly. The three junior reps watched in amazement at Mr. Saki's sheer nerve. After spending the week with him, dealing with contracts, negotiations, and meeting after bloody meeting, the Delicorp Four had seen a bit of what it was to be Seto Kaiba. All of the representatives had found themselves very glad to be on the cooperative, rather than the opposing, side of the young C.E.O. more than once.

Seto picked up his briefcase, turned around, and headed swiftly for the door.

"If you'll excuse me," he said without looking back, without any hint of question or hesitation. "Have a safe journey, gentlemen."

The nervous junior suits hung their heads, knowing what was coming. There was no talking Saki out of it, no matter how they'd tried to reason that Seto Kaiba was a busy man, not terribly fond of people, and, unimportant as it may be, still underage.

"Nonsense!" he'd bellowed. "What does any of that have to do with going to a nightclub?"

They'd given up after that.

Now, Seto Kaiba was on his way out of the door, practically running, as if he too knew what Saki was about to propose.

"Mr. Kaiba! Wait!"

Seto stopped, looked at the door that was meant to be his means of escape from the 'social outing' invitation that was surely on its way. He could make a run for it... No, he thought. I don't run away from invitations. I accept them graciously, because that's business. He took a deep, cleansing breath. Damn. He'd been so close..

Saki smiled at his coworkers, urging them to support his venture. "Well, you see, it's just, that... Well..." Kunihiku, the shortest of the three junior reps, stuttered unattractively. Seto's eyes narrowed, concealing his urge to laugh out loud at these pathetic men who still had issues with acting maturely about mature matters. He smirked at the door, waiting for the men to get to their point.

"We've arranged to visit a rather reputable club on the south side of your lovely city," Saki explained. "With business taken care of, we'd like to take some time to unwind and enjoy ourselves while we're still here." The large, swarthy man smiled at the back of Seto's head. Seto, however, remained where he was.

Seto heard the uncomfortable shifting of his guests and suppressed a chuckle. He was always amused when he managed to intimidate people without even trying, though it was actually the opposite of his objective in this situation. Delicorp was a very valuable new asset to the company, and these men had been cooperative, and even helpful, during the process. He turned to face the four, set his briefcase back down on the massive desk, and waited.

"We'd LOVE for you to join us." Saki was grinning like a man under the impression that this was the best idea to occur in the last twenty years.

He blinked. Honestly, Seto didn't mind Mr. Saki. He found him a little overbearing, and perhaps not the brainiest of the corporate figureheads he'd had dealings with. He wasn't awful, though. His junior staff wasn't awful, either. They were...how to explain...

They were nice. The juniors were still a little bit afraid of him, but they were still, well, nice. It wasn't a quality the C.E.O. often came across in his profession. His aversion to the outing, really, had nothing at all to do with the Delicorp Four. It was entirely about the nature of the destination.

These outings (of which Seto had been on many... too many...) always seemed to have the common factor of bare breasts, lined up garishly across a stage, jiggling unbecomingly as the owners performed dance steps that brought on a sort of martial-arts-movie nostalgia. Saki's use of the words 'reputable club' had only reinforced his fear. All in all, it was a situation Seto would closely relate to his image of Hell.

Why is it always a strip club? Seto thought to himself. Can businessmen frequent no other type of establishment? Is there some universally accepted memo I somehow failed to receive, regarding the Mandatory Strip Club Post-Negotiations Meeting, permanently scheduled to take place after closing any deal of any kind?

Seto pondered for a brief moment, and then promptly answered himself. Aside from the obvious reasons, such as ugly old business men being easily excitable, they just want to see me do some spending. Put my money where my mouth is. There are few places more expensive than exotic night clubs, I suppose, or at least no other one place with more opportunities to spend a large sum of money and have nothing to show for it the next day.

It would be nearly as effective, and would waste less of my time, to simply hire a few call girls, throw a burlap sack of yen at them and be done with it.

He sighed inaudibly, disgusted and defeated by his own critical mind and good business sense. He certainly had to go now, if not before.

Well, there were worse ways to spend an evening. The burlesques always had gourmet cuisine, and only partial nudity. This was a positive aspect in cases where, when it came to naked women, less was always more. Seto shrugged mentally. He hadn't exactly had other plans, anyway.

Mr. Saki gave a load, throaty, fairly disturbing laugh. "Yes! It's a very, heh, 'colorful' establishment... There's a little bit of something for everyone, you could say!"

Three sharp intakes of breath whistled in unison, and then three heads nodded a bit too quickly in the background, wide and slightly fearful smiles plastered to their faces.

Seto's face was still. Slowly, he rose one eyebrow no more than a few millimeters and gave a very faint cough. Colorful? Something for everyone? These were terms not illustrative of the type of establishment in his suspicions. He lifted his chin slightly, noticing the feeling of discomfort rise in the air.

"Colorful?"

"I'd say," muttered the short, young suit Seto believed was named Kunihiko. Or was it Kunihiro? Not that it especially mattered.

Seto's eyebrow went up a bit more. He looked from face to face, attempting to figure out what the issue was. Business men liked gentleman's clubs. It seemed an indisputable fact of life. However, none had ever had such a hard time inviting him to one before. True, he'd been caught and impeded in trying to hurry off before arrangements could be made, but a post-negotiations outing was common; it could even be called customary. Seto wanted the Delicorp reps to be comfortable, and would suffer a fair amount of personal discomfort to ensure that they didn't.

"What do you mean by colorful?" One corner of his mouth twitched in what was one of Seto's few personal adaptations of smiling.

Saki looked again to his employees, determined to include them in his brilliant idea. His gaze settled on Werenko, another of the juniors.

He had never actually spoken directly to Kaiba before. "It's just, well, you know, um... It's a place where, well, men, you know, can go to, well, you know... Relax. And stuff. You know." He looked at Kaiba desperately, willing him to understand before he blushed any harder.

Seto was enjoying this game. These men were so funny, getting so flustered over a strip club, for god's sake. "I'm sorry, but I don't know," he said with a perfectly straight face. "And, as it were, I really must insist that I know what sort of establishment it is before I make any appearances. I would hate to miss your last night in town but, unfortunately, I don't have much time for guessing games."

Thick silence followed. The fun was wearing thin. Seto decided to take the initiative. His eyes narrowed. "Is it a gentleman's club?" he asked simply. He already knew the answer, of course. Relief crossed all four of their faces. Bingo.

"Well, yes, but..." Werenko started, his eyebrows coming together. His blush had thankfully faded some, but Kaiba noticed that a faint pinkness lingered despite the disappearance of the stutter. "I'm sure it isn't called that, exactly. It's really more of a, um, nightclub."

Really. Seto found himself uncommonly surprised. He hadn't expected this. This could be interesting... They want to go to a real club, and not some dull, last-century Paris ripoff.

Seto smirked, amused by his own wit for a moment, and then collected himself. The answer was simple; he'd been willing to go when he'd thought the worst, and was certainly willing to go now that the prospect had livened up a bit.

Seto paused, a revelation. "Wait... did you say it was on the south side?" As in, the queer side? Mystery solved! They'd been asking him to go to a gay strip club, which certainly took an extra helping of nerve. They had no solid reason to believe he wouldn't be disgusted (unless his catty attitude and flair for a bondage-theme ensemble could be considered 'solid'). Seto nearly laughed out loud. This was a very different situation. He may not have gone for the door, had he known.

Mr. Saki was quiet for a moment. "Well, I just thought it might be a nice change from the traditional." The big man shifted on his feet, finally seeming to realize he may be crossing some line. "Mr. Kaiba, I was inviting you as a fellow working man, and not as a required part of our dealings. I completely understand if you'd prefer-"

"An exotic night club on the south side? I can't say I've ever been." Or that I've never considered it, he thought to himself with an inward grin.

He turned to them slowly, his eyes lingering for just a moment on Mr. Saki. "Of course, I'd be happy to join you. All work and no play, as the saying goes." He frankly had no idea how it went, only that Mokuba chirped it at him at least once a week when he was trying to get him to take a day off. He mildly wondered if he'd used it appropriately, then decided just as mildly that, if he hadn't, these idiots wouldn't catch on, much less call him on it.

Seto pulled out his tiny, solid platinum cellular phone. "What's the name of this place?" he asked as he pushed the speed dial for his chauffeur.

"Oh, you'll love this," laughed Mr. Saki, obviously very pleased that he hadn't offended anyone. "It used to be an animal shelter, specializing in dogs with abnormalities and special needs. The shelter moved across town a few years ago, and was bought and remodeled into a club."

"I see," Seto replied dryly. He hadn't asked for the life story of the place.

"Anyway, the best part is, now it's called 'Puppy's Paradise.' Don't you just love it?" he bellowed.

An image flashed through Seto's mind: angry brown eyes, set in a well-featured face, framed by choppy blond hair. It had been a fair amount of time since he'd been able to hear the P-word without maniacal laughter threatening to escape him, as it threatened to now. The name of the club... that's priceless. He did "just love it," but he supposed it was for different reasons than Saki's. He managed to restrain himself, but not without difficulty.

That is certainly one I'll remember for the next time we meet, Kaiba thought with a gleam.

Meanwhile, on the south side, Jonouchi Katsuya strode down a brightly lit city street on his way to work, steadily passing by cafe-style restaurants, designer clothing stores, hideously cute-tiny-trinket stores, and other such similar retailers. Traffic whizzed by, sending a chilly breeze his way, whipping his hair into his eyes and across his face. Bright headlights lit his path from behind as cars came up the street in his direction, the lights of cross traffic causing him to squint as he made his way further south.

Katsuya sighed, keeping his mind on the scenery around him and off of the work that lay ahead, occupying his restless consciousness by noting meaningless details. There, by the Starbucks, a crack in the sidewalk. Here, on the curb near the lamppost (with the temperamental bulb), a card-sized chip in the red paint. He knew every detail of this route: every crack and chip, every weed that had struggled through the sidewalk, every rusty grate of every storm drain. He knew them as well as he knew his way around a cheeseburger after two days with no dinner. He made a game of it, playing without even really realizing.

Today, they'll have finally taken down that stray construction sign from when they built the median last July.

He looked across the street, next to the "gourmet pizzeria" ("Purveyor of tomato compost- smeared particle board" in Katsuya's opinion. He once announced to all his friends that the location was 'a disgrace to the good name of pizza,' to which they responded, 'Didn't you make a peanut butter and marshmallow with extra cheese last week?' 'Oh yeah,' he'd grinned. 'That was delicious!' None of them have been back. ). Sure enough, he spotted a stray bolt less than a foot away from where the now-absent sign had been. "Oh yeah!" he yelled to himself, punching the air. "I win! I win the game!"

He launched into a victory move not unlike the moonwalk; at just the same moment, a passing trinket shopper who was, apparently, within earshot of his victory call, caught his eye and gave him a look a caged zoo monkey would find familiar. Katsuya blushed slightly and gave a feeble wave. "Don't mind me," he called to her, his voice high-pitched and thin with embarrassment. The shopper smiled nervously and hurried into a store full of tiny things. Katsuya scratched his head, shrugged, and continued on his way. He picked a new subject.

That soda cup will be gone when I come by on my way home.

As he gazed at said soda cup, discarded carelessly in the gutter, a caravan of three stretch limos glided past, their engines' purr fading smoothly into the general noise of the city. Katsuya liked limos. He'd never been in one before, but he liked the impressive way they looked. Though he couldn't ever see through the tinted windows, he always craned his neck when they passed and tried, just the same, every time. No luck this time either. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his new wool coat and smiled.

If I gotta totally sacrifice my dignity to keep the bills paid, at least there's enough left over for some new threads once in a while, he thought to himself with a low chuckle. He hadn't had a new coat in a long time, and buying it had made him feel strangely proud. Regardless of how, he had earned his stylish, warm new coat. He stroked it absently and started whistling a tune. He felt his lips begin to chap from the wind and his cheeks turning pink, and realized he had been whistling songs from his set tonight. So much for keeping his mind off of it. Hey, this could be a new gimmick for me: instead of dancing to the stereo system, I could whistle my own soundtrack! He laughed out loud at his own silliness. He knew he was stuck with his current gimmick, his uniform, until he quit or died.

He looked back to the street, the laugh dying on his lips where it had begun. There was the 'massage parlor,' ("Just a little extra for our special massage!") which was where the unspoken division between the respectable business district and the red light district lay. It would be hard to tell when you'd crossed the line...if not for the flashing neon "Girls! Girls! Girls!" (or "Boys! Boys! Boys!") signs in the next windows over. If one peered at the windows all down the street, one would see quite a few flashing neon signs, all of them advertising the same thing in different forms.

This was one of the city's oldest areas, in terms of architecture. Katsuya wondered what it had looked like before becoming the neighborhood where...well, this neighborhood. He chuckled. It's real nice how they've honored the historic value of this place, huh?

He rounded a wide curve in the road, his stroll becoming a brisk walk. He was almost there, and it was time to put his game face on. He took a deep breath.

As he approached the red brick building (recently fully restored and renovated!) that was his destination, he let himself sink into a different game, concentrating on playing the role instead of avoiding it. As long he could make work into a fun game, like Duel Monsters, he could get through his shift without thinking too hard about what he was actually about to do.

Here we go. He began to chant to himself, giving voice to every thought he could find to create his image. Winning this game made him the perfect dancer, and his clients responded with their hard- earned income.

I am desire, I am an icon.

His features began to shift, slowly, as he let himself go. His normally open and honest face was closing and hardening as he focused. The hotheaded, normal teenage Katsuya was on his way out, to return only when this new Katsuya was done. The Puppy's Paradise star performer, the best paid and most requested dancer, of any gender, race, creed or category, mind, with the face that only told you what it wanted to and nothing more... This was the Katsuya that stepped onto the club's stage with sure steps three nights a week.

Tonight, I am a sex symbol and sensual god.

I am envy; I remind you that what you want, you will never have.

A sultry smirk crept across his face, and, with a deep breath, he let normal Katsuya be completely free to go where and do what he wished.

I am what you can't have...you can only pretend for a price and a short time.

The three limos were illegally parked in front of the club, and the drivers were having a disagreement with both the parking enforcement and Big Tony, the bouncer. Katsuya giggled, breaking character.

Poor Tony. Even his mom calls him Big Tony. I sure hope he never wanted another career path; I think it's required by law to go into security if you are over 190cm, 300 lbs, and have an intimidating nick name.

He tried to imagine Tony as a veterinarian or Broadway actor or other equally anti- bouncer job, and failed. Remembering himself, Katsuya sighed. His concentration had been shaken, but he felt ready for the night ahead. One limo, even on a weeknight, equaled a busy night. Three limos, however, and on a Friday, equaled a good opportunity to start a decent-sized college fund.

If you knew how to work it, which Katsuya certainly did.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a rushing sigh, he slipped into the narrow alley, past the garbage cans, and around the corner to the entrance in the back marked 'Employees Only.'