Quick note: for the purpose of the storyline following the actual song, George's "love interest" in this short story is female. I hope nobody finds offence in this, as I know it goes against his true, real-life sexuality — and never would I ever discredit who George loves in the real world. This is a work of fiction only.

- - -

— 1990.

Steam-pressed white cotton hugs at my torso in the form of a crisp button-up shirt; neatly tucked into the fitted trousers of the flattering mid-grey tuxedo which adorns my tall, slim figure. My hand brushes gently against the top of my head; cedar brown wisps of hair combed upwards into a presentable quiff flatter the defined Greek features that I inherited from my father. My amber irises scan the room, as I quickly run my tongue over my lips to eliminate any dryness. Surrounding me are numerous people, both men and women — all here for a good time, whether it be with friends, or with an entirely different goal in mind. My gaze falls upon the perfect rhythmic motions of crimson satin and ivory pearls; the owner of such elegance is a young lady, dancing alone in the centre of the dance floor. Dark chocolate curls are pulled loosely into a low ponytail; smoky eyeshadow attractively tightens her deep brown eyes; and blood-red lips cry out for male attention as they part for breath.

"She could get it from me." A sudden voice brings me to turn my attention from this enigmatic woman, to a man to my left; he nudges my arm playfully, much like a teenage boy experiencing sexual desires for the first time. "If you get my drift."

"She's certainly something," I respond briefly, not wanting to engage in conversation. My eyes move back to the dance floor, as I catch sight of her slipping a small business card into the breast pocket of an unsuspecting man's shirt.

"She's out tonight to make a living," the same voice from before informs me. "I've seen her type before."

"Her type?" Without giving the man so much as a single glance, I furrow my brows in confusion.

"She's here for a good time, you could say. Have you never been to a club before, kid?"

"Kid?" Offence is evident in my tone and my expression. "I'm twenty-seven years old. Don't insult my intelligence."

"Let me spell it out for you — she's a hooker. A prostitute. An escort. A streetwalker. A—"

"Fucking hell, I get the picture mate." An eye roll is all it takes for me to convey my irritability towards this stranger. "I'm going to see what she's got."

No more words are spoken, before I push my back off the bar counter where I've been leaning; and I make my way over to the dance floor where this ravishing entrepreneur is pitching her seductive little business. Music fills the entire building, drowning out any interactions from unsafe ears; this makes it the perfect place to go about questionable affairs without arousing any suspicion. Finally, I arrive only inches away from the girl; to break the ice, I immediately begin to dance with her. She is taken by surprise when I grab a hold of her hand; this, however, is only short-lived when she notices I'm no threat to her safety, and she joins in with me.

"What's the name, sweet?" I ask of her through the thudding beat of the song that's playing.

"What's a name to you, hot stuff?" she replies smartly, taking her lower lip into her mouth as a means of flirting.

"I like to know what name is best ... you know, just in case I need it later on," I answer, positioning her against me, so that we're chest-to-chest. "Let's just say, I've been told I can make any name sound sexy when given the right motivations."

She smirks at this, showing a slight interest by moving her body against mine in time with the music. "This ... " She places my hand against her waist, to advertise exactly what I could let myself in for. "Comes at a price, Mister."

"The name's Georgios," I inform her, with a hushed tone. "But you're more than welcome to call me George, just so long as I get a discount."

"Don't push it." Her eyes twinkle as a result of the disco lights which bounce around the room. "But seeing as you're pretty good-looking, I may give you the benefit of the doubt."

She reaches her hand into the bust of her dress, retrieving one of her cards before handing it to me. "Hey, George — what've you got to lose?"

One hand toys with the card I've been given; my fingers twirl it slowly as I see a name — Natalia — printed onto it. Of course, I'm not going to be naïve enough to assume this is her real given name; however, it's a development from her initial refusal to give me any kind of introduction. My other hand moves to her thigh, my way of expressing vague interest in what she's offering me. As our eyes meet, I find myself playing hard to get.

"Not a whole lot baby, but a whole lot more than you."

"What do you mean by that?" One brow moves upwards in mock concern. "I can make you happy, don't you know that?"

"You can make me happy? Or, is it, I'll make you happy ... Natalia?"

She brings her head in close to my neck, gaining leverage by resting her hand against my jawline. "There's only one way for you to find out. And you'd best be quick, because I'm a very busy woman."

The heat of her breath trickles against my sensitive skin, admittedly sending me into a small frenzy. Lust takes over; I take her hand once more, leading her through the groups of people in order to exit the premises, so that I can truly find out whether she's all talk and no action, or not.

- - -

My eyes open groggily to blinding natural light; a blurred image spills through the tiny gaps between my dark Greek lashes, of a person's silhouette hurriedly moving around the room. After rubbing harshly, in a bid to rid the residue that has formed on my eyelids, my surroundings are finally made clearer. The fine young specimen from last night is speedily dressing her bare torso; her elegant curves are partially exposed, making for a satisfying start to the day. With a soft groan from fatigue, I garner her attention; her head snaps around to spot that I'm awake, so she huffs quietly.

"Morning," I greet, with a tired grittiness to my voice.

"I was hoping to make my getaway before you woke up," she confesses, frustration at herself evident in her tone; she pulls on her netted stockings clumsily, averting her gaze to what she's doing. "I never show my face the morning after."

"Looks like I truly did make you happy," I challenge suggestively, admiring her from the comfort of the bed I'm laid in. "I don't understand how you can say, "Lay me down" to anybody — just for some cheap cash, anyway. You need some commitment in your life. You don't always need to think about the money."

"George, I run a business," the mysterious young woman responds, in a hushed tone. "I don't even dig men. I just fuck them if they're rich."

With this revelation, all my wildest fantasies shatter at once; in anger, I climb out of bed to face her. "So what are you still doing here?" I interrogate, disgust creeping into my facial expression. "Clearly, you can't be with me. So get out of here."

A sly smirk settles across her perfectly made-up features, as she grabs her clutch bag. "So, will I catch you, same time next week?" After voicing her ludicrous question, she tiptoes over to the door, to exit the room. Before she goes, she turns to catch a glimpse of my reaction.

"You're a low-life daughter-of-a-son-of-a-bitch," I hiss, following after her; with a swift motion, I open the door, pushing her out of it. "Offer your lousy services to somebody who wants them."

"Like you did last night?" she quips, knowing that her remark will infuriate me further.

"Fuck off," I demand; with this utterance spoken, I slam the door in her face, to eliminate her incessant smugness.

Heaving a sigh, I trudge over to the telephone that sits pristinely on the bedside table of the room I'm in. Dialling an all-too-familiar number, I raise the phone from its receiver, to my ear while it rings.

"Hey babe," I greet to my partner back at home, once I get an answer from the other end; this is precisely when the feeling of guilt starts to sneak in. "I can't wait to see you today. I love you. You ... make me the happiest man alive."

- - -

I just had to write my own adaptation of Happy! It's such a good song! Hope you enjoyed. xx