Meeting the Succubus

<I can’t believe you’re going with that.> Marcus thought at the Lone Mage as they entered Flashdancers Gentleman’s club.

<Going with what?> the Lone Mage thought back.

<That blonde Johnny Depp look.> Marcus thought, evidently annoyed as they made their way inside the club.

<You don’t like Johnny Depp?> the Lone Mage smiled under his mask as they passed several very shapely and scantily clad “cocktail waitresses”, all of whom ignored Marcus and instead smiled at the Lone Mage. <The ladies here seem to like him well enough>

Marcus Rathgar, Mage of the Order of the White Star, was in his mid-thirties, towered at 6-feet tall, far above the Lone Mage’s mere 5’ 7”, wore a bespoke gray suit, white shirt underneath, and black leather shoes. He was thin, had long, swept back brown hair in an undercut style, and a ridiculously large beard hanging down from his gaunt triangular face.

The Lone Mage had his usual raglan-sleeved, indigo with gold trim, knee-length, leather jacket / robe, black leather gloves, navy blue pants tucked into knee-high black leather boots. His entire face covered in a matching indigo polymer mask held by two pairs of velco straps across the sides and below his ear and neck, his black hair was parted at the left, with long bangs partially covering his right eye.

Everyone else, though, saw him as a somewhat short, blonde version of Johnny Depp, with shoulder-length hair with the top and sides tied back into a pony tail, while the rest of lower half of his hair at the back hung down freely. This short Johnny Depp appeared to wear a very sharp navy blue sport jacket over baby blue dress shirt underneath, slim-fit khakis, and dark brown loafers. This was the illusory spell that all the club staff were smiling at as he passed by.

Nobody knew Lone Mage’s true identity. Not the entire mythical community back in the Philippines, and certainly not anyone in the Order of the White Star. He was known as a demon-hunting mage, and that was all they needed to know.

<Okay, never mind,> Marcus thought, shaking his head. <Let’s just get to work and meet the Succubus.>

The club itself was one of the better “gentlemen’s clubs” in New York City — or so Marcus had told Lone Mage before going there. Lone Mage had also learned that “gentlemen’s club” was a euphemism for “strip club”, which was very evident now.

Most of the club’s lighting was focused on the main stage, which was a catwalk that doubled as a very wide, u-shaped bar for the patrons immediately in front. The catwalk seemed to be of a light color that readily reflected the purple, yellow, blue, red, and white from the ceiling and the two pillars behind the catwalk-bar.

Two very shapely women wearing nothing but red and black t-back panties were wrapping themselves in provocative, even acrobatic, poses and motions around the two poles on the catwalk-bar, in sync with the loud dance music blaring in the cool, air conditioned, booze-scented club atmosphere. One of the women, Caucasian, had tattoos all over, while the other looked Asian, like Japanese or Chinese, but tall and had her hair died blonde.

In front of the main stage, beyond the first row of patrons, was a slightly elevated section with their own chairs and tables. In contrast to the bare wooden chairs around the bar, this elevated section’s chairs were cushioned and seemed to be loosely arranged into sets of three around a small square tables. The back of elevated section had a padded wall with a lighted “Flashdancers” logo on it. Against the wall was another row of single chairs and tables.

Lone Mage and Marcus, his guide to this den of…. Er, gentlemen, were approaching the main stage a little off to the right, so that the elevated section was now to their left. It was there that Marcus was leading them.

Along the way Lone Mage saw a smaller section off to the right side, with a smaller platform and a pole, with another dancer gyrating around it. At this point this was nearer than the main stage, and for a moment Lone Mage couldn’t help but stare at the woman — particularly her large brea…

“So, you’re friends with Marcus?” suddenly a woman wrapped her arm around The Lone Mage’s right arm. Or Blonde Johnny Depp’s. She was taller than the Lone Mage, as most Caucasians were, he being Filipino, and consequently of Filipino height. She was brunette, with long hair that ended in curls as it reached her shoulders and back, striking blue eyes, high cheekbones that went well with the dimples of her perfect, gleaming smile, had a tight-fitting apple green spaghetti-strap dress that could barely contain her very ample chest, and had a very high slit on both sides that all but revealed her very bright, very smooth, long legs in high heels.

Her lavender perfume was intoxicating. The mere touch of her arm against his was electrifying, and the Lone Mage struggled to suppress the immediate stirring in his loins.

Lone Mage mentally gave himself a facepalm for being so damn distracted. If this were a vampire nest or an aswang coven, he’d probably be dead already.

Marcus turned around and smiled in recognition. “Clara!”

“Marcus!” This woman Clara — presumably the Succubus they were supposed to be meeting — stretched out her right arm to Marcus as they hugged. Without her letting go of Lone Mage on her left arm.

“You really should introduce me to your friend,” she said with an odd forced smile. “ — in the Champagne Room,” she quickly added, nodding off to an area on the side of the main stage.

She suddenly seemed nervous. A nervous mythical creature was never a good sign.

The Lone Mage had come to New York to help the Order of the White Star hunt down an aswang that was slaughtering members of the mythical community all across the United States. This Succubus had contacted Marcus, saying she had some information that might be useful.

Lone Mage had never seen a Succubus before. The Philippines had aswang, manananggal, kapre, tikbalang, encanta, and other manner of mythical creatures, but not Succubi. He suspected Clara’s true form would be something horrible, demonic. He contemplated using his Inner Eye to see her true form, but she might feel him scanning, and he didn’t want to scare her away — at least not before they get whatever information she had.

….

[I’m from the Philippines, and I’ve never been to New York, much less a strip club like Flashdancers (wc actually exists in the real world btw). All I had to go on was whatever Google would cough up in terms of descriptions and pictures.]