Author's Note: I swear, I come up with ideas in the strangest places: the inspiration for this one came when I was riding the school bus on a field trip - it just sorta popped into my head. I told one of my friends about it - she also reads these - and she requested that I go ahead and write it. Again, this is very out-of-character.

The Joker stepped through the doorway and into the small but nevertheless pleasant establishment, the pungent scent of perfumed candles - mounted in sconces on the deep blue walls - hitting his nostrils full-force as he slowly crossed the room in the slightly hunched, jerking steps that his being was so infamous for. Jonathan had given him the address of the gay bar upon their last meeting over a week ago, saying that he had a pair of "girlfriends" - if that was what they could truly be called, for both members of the close couple were male - that he wanted the homicidal clown to meet, and they had arranged for their little get-together to be for this very evening, Jonathan whispering sensually in his ear that he would have a little surprise planned for his manly sweetheart - Joker couldn't wait.

And sure enough, there the couple sat, side-by-side on identical black leather revolving stools up near the right-hand end of the counter. Both were dressed in loose, flowing silk shirts, fitted slacks and dress shoes. Each was sporting a black hat - the man on the left wore a wool cap with a stunted stiff brim over his pale tight curls, his partner a French beret cocked at a jaunty angle upon his short dark hair. It was obvious that Jonathan had made a few special calls - no doubt involving the principle that "money talks" - in advance: the stooped aging bartender - who had his back to them and was busily wiping out a glass with a dishtowel - was the only other person there. (Crane had also forewarned Joker that his friends, being slightly off-their-rockers themselves, would not react to him in the same fearful way most people typically would; in fact, some of Joker's mug shots had been on the bar's small television - the one on the wall in the upper right-hand corner - during a special news report on one of the clown's latest crimes - and both of Jonathan's friends had agreed with him that the Joker was "most deliciously adorable."

Evidently having heard his approach, the man in the beret spun around squeakily on his stool, grinning broadly upon seeing the clown.

"Well hi, sugar!" The man sprang up from his perch as Joker reached them, placing his hands on the maniac's purple-coated forearms and air-kissing him warmly on both pasty cheeks before sitting down again, Joker taking a place on his other side - it occurred to the clown that the stranger's high-pitched, nasal tone sounded akin to that of a preppy high school cheerleader.

"We're so glad you could make it!" the man squealed brightly. "I'm Francis, and this is Gerry - you forgot to do your nails again," Francis said, turning to his partner. "Here - hand me my purse - Jonathan asked me to give you these." He snatched up the spectacles lying before him on the counter and handed them to Joker, who immediately recognized them as Crane's.

Gerry complied with his lover's request, grabbing a small black leather number from the ground at their feet and handing it to Francis - "Sure thing, baby doll" - with a wink. Francis began rifling through the cluttered bag.

"Jonathan never lets me give him a manicure - which really sucks because I have just the right shade to bring out his eyes, too; Gerry and I both work for a modeling agency - that's how we met, did you know? It's just a small business, really. I assemble the outfits and Gerry takes the pictures. I also teach the girls - and boys - how to "walk" properly for the runway - it's mostly special guys like Gerry'n me who teach them how to do that, did you know? I just offered a modeling position to Jonathan the other day - he's really good, you'll see - but he turned it down because he said he likes being a doctor. He was really nice about it, though - aha!" Francis held up a small bottle of nail polish in an obnoxiously fluorescent shade of orange; the man's own nails were painted navy blue.

Francis took one of Gerry's calloused hands in one of his softer feminine ones and began applying the varnish as he remarked in an offhand sort of voice, "There's Jonathan now."

Joker turned halfway round in his seat.

Jonathan's sensually fine hips were swaying rhythmically like the pendulum of a clock to the beat of the heavy rap music thumping through the walls as he sashayed from a narrow hallway in the back of the bar to a slim metal pole situated on a little raised platform in the middle of the room. He was wearing one of his regular black suits - though Joker's trained eye saw immediately that the jacket was not equipped with the triggered aerosol canisters containing potentially lethal doses of Crane's infamous fear toxin: he must have left them at home.

Jonathan reached the pole - his nervous gaze locked on a spot somewhere above the clown's head - and let his jacket slide off his shoulders and onto the floor.

Joker's tongue ran itself slowly over his painted lips.

Crane stepped out of his shoes, nudging them out the way before he hooked his toe in the hem of one sock and peeled it slowly from his foot, subsequently doing the same to its mate; these were also kicked off to the side.

The tongue smacked itself quietly over his lips once more.

Jonathan began gyrating his hips to the pulsations of the song as he pulled his dark green sweater-vest up off over his head and tossed it to the floor.

The clown's tongue probed at the spot where one scar met the left corner of his mouth.

Pelvis still moving in small little circles, Jonathan slowly unfastened his tie, letting it drop to the ground as he leisurely unbuttoned his dress shirt, gradually exposing his pale marble chest and tight abdomen.

Joker's tongue grew more agitated, licking faster with each move Crane made.

Jonathan slid his back up the pole, undoing his belt and arching his hips forward; he gave a somewhat exaggerated sigh at the release as he slowly unzipped his trousers.

A soft passed through Joker's mouth as he felt himself harden.

Francis spared Crane a glance as he finished with one of Gerry's hands and then moved to start on the other. "He is such a cutie."

Joker could only nod slowly in agreement, his eyes locked on his stripping boyfriend.

Jonathan's trousers slid to the floor - revealing dark blue plaid boxer shorts - his shirt following soon after. He hooked his now mostly-bare leg around the pole, his lips slightly parted, and locked his gaze with his lover's as he slowly ran his fingers through his own already tousled hair.

The Clown Prince of Crime nearly squealed in frustration at the torture, scarcely aware of Francis's and Gerry's soft chuckles behind him.

"I told you he was good," Francis said, sounding both smug and slightly jealous of Crane's seemingly natural ability at the same time.

And then it was over, the solely boxer-clad Jonathan strutting towards them, one hand resting daintily on his hip. He sat up on the countertop between Joker and Francis, his hands supporting him as he leaned back, the hem of his drawers slipping downward a few inches to reveal the beginnings of his pelvic curve. He looked at his partner.

"Do you care much for my friends? Admittedly, Francis can be quite loquacious - but that of course is only natural for him. Gerry, on the other hand, does not reveal much in his speech - as you probably were able to figure out, Francis does more than enough talking for the both of them." Then Jonathan's eyes glinted devilishly as he suddenly smirked, looking demurely up at his partner from beneath his long black lashes.

"Do you like my body, Joker?"

The clown's only answer was to sweep Jonathan up off the bar and escape with him out the door and into the night, the knowing chuckles of Crane's friends echoing behind them.

END

Okay, now that we've all wet our pants from the sexy hotness of Jonathan pole-stripping - YUM! - please review!