No tennis. No Tashi. Art's life had spiralled out of his control since his retirement, the divorce came shortly after. Art thought he would take some time to travel the country, outside the stops on tour he'd visited. Do the whole 'finding yourself' thing. That's what he told everyone, anyway. All he was finding was an endless stream of hotel rooms to cry in. Art's loneliness was eating him alive, yet the idea of going on a date with someone made his stomach tighten. He wasn't ready for that, he'd probably break down crying before the drinks arrived.

Art needed attention, needed his confidence back first, before he attempted to ask someone out. He had to feel like he still had it. Now, this probably wasn't the best way to prove that. In a place where the girls have to show him attention, but it was a start. Maybe it was easier, to know that he definitely wouldn't be rejected in a place like this. The neon 'Girls, Girls, Girls' sign hit his eyes as he walked through the club, the music he feels to old to enjoy distracting him from questioning what the hell he's doing here.

Your big eyes and bikini find him almost immediately, and Art can't help but nod his head when you offer him a private in one of the VIP rooms. Gulping down the lump in his throat as he takes a seat on the leather chair, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before you climb into his lap. His doe eyes meet yours, it's taking everything he has not to burst into tears. He hasn't been this close to someone in what feels like years. The music is quieter in the small room, Art's shaky breathing more obvious as he tentatively places his hands on your hips. "C-Can you just— Can we stop for a second?"

Immediately stopping your movements, still sitting gently on his lap. You can barely finish asking him if he's okay before the ramble of words spill from his mouth. "Sorry— I'm just so, so lonely. I— I haven't touched someone's skin in months. God, you're so lovely and I— Shit, I'm such an idiot, aren't I? Jesus, this is a new low, even for me."