Jelly Donuts and the Old Man's Strip Club Invitation
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Baek Jaesung 10
The US Hunter Association tour was pretty damn informative. The best part was unexpectedly running into that 1st-rank dungeon hunter, Smithy Warben (Eliminated) Man Jensen. Man, what a ridiculously long name when you see it written out.
After the tour, we headed back to Everett's apartment. It was a shame I couldn't bury my face in that guide's killer ass like I'd planned. So the moment we got back, I jumped into a 4P with Everett, Jisu, and Jueun. Murray jerked off right beside us.
"Satisfying."
Once the orgy wrapped up, the women passed out sprawled across the bed. I figured I'd take a casual stroll and headed out alone.
Thanks to the language pack, I'd mastered English—no need for a babysitter tagging along. Wandering a foreign city solo felt like a fresh adventure.
LA was a massive beast of a city. Skyscrapers dotted the skyline without being too flashy, and the enormous roads swarmed with cars darting every which way. Plenty of foreigners on the streets, including East Asians like me.
"Maybe hit up a restaurant?"
I'd come out to sightsee, but nothing specific in mind. Just let my feet carry me wherever.
Following a tantalizing aroma, I ducked into a huge shopping center and found a street lined with eateries. Some had flashy signboards boasting Gold Star certifications from that world-famous gourmet guide.
"Whoa! Jelly donuts!"
Spotting jelly donuts here? No way I could pass that up. I marched straight into the shop and grabbed a whole box—my fave, Tropical Variety. Only five bucks. Way bigger than the ones back in Korea, too.
"Drowned in sugar. One of these and I'd be wired all night."
American food hits different, no doubt. Munching on a donut as I strolled, a stranger's voice called out.
"Hey, young fella."
I swallowed the mango donut stuck in my throat and turned. An old man with snow-white hair leaned on a cane, eyeing me. His T-shirt screamed 'I’m still young!!!' in massive letters. Total dentures-grandpa vibe. Mid-seventies, maybe?
"You calling me?"
He jabbed a finger my way. Nodded firmly.
"From the way you're gawking around, fresh-off-the-plane tourist, right? Hold up—lemme guess where you're from."
Dementia case? I started to blow him off, but his face was dead serious, so I humored him.
"Have at it."
"Hmm. Not Chinese—their accent's a dead giveaway. You speak fluent English... second-gen immigrant?"
"Nope."
"Alright, Japan or Korea then."
"Korea."
"Goddamn it! I said I'd guess!"
The old fart stomped his cane in frustration. What a clown. Starting to give off cult-leader vibes.
"What's your beef all of a sudden?"
"Ah, sorry if it came off like that. I'm at retirement age, slacking off instead of working. Gets boring, y'know? My successor's sharp—no room for me to meddle. Chatting up young bucks like you is my only thrill."
"Bad habit, gramps. I'm busy."
"Doesn't look it. Jelly donuts, huh? Good taste, kid!"
He swiped one from my box like it was nothing. The coconut one I'd saved for last, the bastard.
"These jelly donuts go way back—to my youth. Branches were only on the East Coast then. Only thing I envy about those Boston pricks. Nom nom... still delicious."
"Hey, old man, you're crossing lines. Want a taste of heat?"
"Stingy over a donut... chalk it up to good karma."
"Don't buy that shit. Even if I did, it's pointless. I ain't dying."
"Kekeke! Nobody dies wanting to."
Weird old coot. His snarky attitude grated. In another timeline, I'd have beaten the tar out of him.
"Sourpuss face. Wondering why some dementia geezer's hassling you?"
"Nailed it. Telepathy or what?"
"Kekeke! Don't need it—your mug says it all."
He clapped, grinning like a smug prick.
"As donut payback, here's a gem. Something a hot-blooded tourist like you would love."
"What, playing tour guide? Mom said don't follow strangers."
"Smart mom. Miss mine sometimes. She headed far away decades back."
"If your mom were alive, that would be creepy. Unless she's a hunter."
"Kekeke. Fair. Follow me."
He shuffled ahead. Bizarre old timer. One poke and he'd snap. Curiosity piqued.
"Where to?"
"Spoilers kill the fun."
Crime boss maybe? Outfit screamed no, but who knows. A twinge of worry, but curiosity won. Plenty of escape options anyway.
He led slow. Destination just off downtown—not far. More like behind the bustle. Theater signs everywhere.
"What's this hood? Feels like boombox-on-shoulder black dudes about to swarm."
"That guy?"
That's a private school.
What's the matter, dawg?
You embarrassed?"
Sure enough, a black dude with a radio slung over his shoulder was rap-battling. Fit the vibe perfect.
"They call this LA's Detroit. Speaking of, the Detroit-style pizza at that joint? Killer."
"Cut the crap—why drag me here? For rap battles? I'm tone-deaf."
"Nah, leave rapping to the locals. We're here for that!"
He pointed to a sign: scantily clad babe in a sexy pose gripping a long pole. No way...
"Strip club! Gotta sample this after coming all the way from Korea, right?"
"Yeeeesss! Knew you were the real deal!"
Fuck yeah, jackpot.
Forgot strip clubs were on my bucket list. Sure, I was a brothel fiend in Solari World and that sword realm, but this was real life. Reality!
"Fucking awesome."
"Kekeke! Knew it'd hit. Let's go in."
"How much?"
"My regular spot—no sweat on entry. Just tip the dancers."
"Shit. Only got a hundred bucks. ATM?"
"Plenty. You ain't showering bills."
"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."
Brimming with hype, I stepped into the strip club. Decadent vibes hit from the door. Expected a bouncer thug—nada.
"Kinda just a dim bar."
Inside surprised me. Like a normal cocktail lounge, dim lights aside. Where's the stage?
"Curtain there's the stage. Drink? On me."
"Most expensive you've got."
"Tch. Little shit."
Grumbled but bought it. Better dude than I figured. We clicked.
"But gramps, you still get it up at your age?"
"Gack... never married... gotta vent somewhere."
"Young you looked like a player. Why no wife?"
"Haha! Lived too loose. Ah, show's on."
Curtain rose. Runway-style stage jutting out, pole at the tip. Drinkers clustered around.
"No seats? Awkward."
"Standing's the vibe. Too close, that security guy's on you."
Pointed to the arms-crossed dude by the bar table.
"Hunter, even. Play smart—dumb tourists get wrecked sometimes."
"US hunters moonlight like that? Wild."
"Ex-Demonic. Once branded, even after paying dues, doors slam everywhere."
Nodded. Demonic meant major crimes—not petty theft.
Girls in glittering bikinis hit the stage. Bottoms basically thongs. Cheers erupted as the strippers sashayed seductively.
"Whoa! Bunny girl too. Fucking hot. Gotta dress my girls up later."
Bunny girl slayed hardest. Top just collar and cuffs—tits on full display. Fishnets amped the sexiness.
Bunny ears eternal GOAT, that perky tail cute as hell. Face just shy of top-tier... but outfit carried hard.
Strippers grabbed poles and danced. Clothed ones stripped; near-nudes teased the crowd. One hopped down slow.
"Tip time. Light touches cool now."
I slipped a hundred into the micro-bikini swimmer's bottom. Grazed her ass.
Fuck, implants. Jiggle looked off. Standard for the gig, I guess?