“Holy shit.” Enzo came into the back room, his grin wide and his dark hair mussed. “Holy. Shit.”
“Good night?”
He held up a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
“Jesus,” Gray exclaimed.
“Right?” Enzo stared at the bill like it was the last waffle cone in an all-you-can-eat ice cream shop.
I didn’t know too much about Enzo’s home life, just that he was married and had twin sons. That hundred bucks would really help him out.
One of the ways we got around the no-touching rule was that the club allowed patrons to step onto a small platform next to the stage and offer the dancer a tip. They had the option of stuffing it into our clothes, handing it to us, or sticking it in a part of their clothes so we had to pull it out. I’d gotten a few twenties that way, but never more than that.
“You must have a new superfan.” I pulled a cheap undershirt on.
“Hopefully, she keeps showing her appreciation.” He waggled his eyebrows and hurried over to his cubby to put the money away.
Corey, one of the co-owners and our stage manager, was responsible for collecting the cash people threw onto the stage, then handed it out at the end of the night.
I liked that the club didn’t do tip-splitting with the bar staff. They kept their tips, and we kept ours.
“Hey, Kai?”
I glanced over at Nick. Jesus, the kid looked young. He was twenty-one, but between his light blond locks, big blue eyes, and lithe, lean body, he teetered on the line between barely legal and jailbait.
“What’s up?” I grabbed a pair of dark blue pants.
“You have a car, right?”
I nodded.
“Do you think you could give me a lift home?” He bit his full bottom lip bashfully. “I know you have a long drive, but it’s kinda on the way.”
“Yeah, sure.” I buttoned the pants. “What happened to your usual ride?”
“Canceled on me. But thanks. I don’t like taking the bus so late.”
We didn’t get off work until after two most nights. That was way too late for a kid to take the bus alone.
“No problem. I can keep driving you until you find a new ride.”
“Really?” He beamed at me. “You’re so awesome!”
I chuckled and pulled on the dark blue uniform shirt. “It’s no problem.”
“You doing your sexy cop routine?” He jiggled a pair of handcuffs.
“You know it.” I took the handcuffs from him and tucked them into the utility belt I’d put on.
“Do you want to do our routine again tonight?”
On a normal night, I would have said yes without hesitating. Dancing with Nick always brought in a shit ton of tips, but I didn’t want Alex to see me dancing with another guy.
His jealousy was hot as fuck, and that baser, primal part of me loved how possessive he was. With someone else, I’d have had no issues teasing them and pissing them off by dancing with someone else in front of them. But with Alex’s history and how hard he took rejection, I wouldn’t do that to him.
I wanted him jealous and sassy, not sad and broken.
“Can’t tonight.”
His face fell.
“You don’t like solo dancing, do you?”
He shook his head, a blush on his cheekbones. “It’s easier when I’m not up there alone.”
“Here’s some advice someone gave me when I started.”
He perked up.
“Pick one person in the audience and pretend you’re dancing for them. Don’t stare because that’ll piss the other patrons off, but keep bringing your focus back to that one person.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll give it a try.”
“Kai!” Corey’s frantic voice came from the backstage door.
“What?” I called back.
“You’re up.”
“I’m supposed to be after the twins.”
River and Zane were identical twins and two of our most popular dancers. They skirted that line between twincest and dancing, and the ladies loved when they did routines together.
“They called in sick.” Corey’s expression was grim. “Can you do a double slot so we’re not redoing the entire schedule?”
“Yeah, fine.” I did a final check of my uniform. An idea popped into my head. “Can you put a chair out for me?”
“Sure. Which songs?”
“Four, then seven.”
Each of us had a list of solo and partner songs we danced to. Usually, we handed in our set list at the start of our shift, but the DJ was flexible and had no issues with us doing last-minute changes.
“You got it.” The door banged shut behind him.
“Chair?” Gray asked.
“Yup.” I winked at him, then hurried over to the backstage door.
Pulling in a few deep breaths, I shut out the noise of the guys getting ready and focused on my routine.
The opening bars of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” began to play, and I stepped onto the stage. The song was a crowd-pleaser, and while I thought it was overused, it never failed to get people singing along at the top of their lungs while I ground to the beat.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright spotlights on me, and I used the slow opening to saunter into the middle of the stage.
The crowd roared as I posed and flexed my muscles. The beat kicked in; I started to move.
The steady downbeat and sensual guitar riffs made it an easy song to dance to, and it was so well known most people recognized it from the opening bars.
Rolling my hips, I pulled the fake baton out of my utility belt and pointed it at the audience, moving it from person to person while I looked to see if Alex had shown up. He had.
He was sitting at a table near the stage, alone and with a look of pure wonder on his face. Shooting him a private smirk, I spun the baton in my hand, then gripped it so I could swing it around my body as I rolled my hips and slowly turned around, giving the audience a view of my ass.
As soon as the beat dropped, I did a dolphin dive and held myself up with one arm as I did some floor work, including lots of grinding and body rolls.
When Joe Elliot started singing, I jumped up and started my dance routine, making sure to use lots of hip action, all while stroking and toying with the baton suggestively.
A few bills landed onto the stage, and I winked at the ladies who’d tossed them for me before they scurried back to their tables.
Slipping the baton back in its holster, I made my way over to the metal chair Corey had set up for me. Chair routines were tricky in this uniform, since the polyester material had zero give, but people loved it. I could suffer some minor muscle strain for tips.
The crowd screamed and cheered as I spun the chair around, flipped it, then leaned over it and thrust my hips, mimicking fucking someone. Keeping my concentration on my dancing so I didn’t hurt myself, I worked the chair, pulling out all my best moves.
Bills littered the stage, and when the song came to an end, I was sweating like a motherfucker under my uniform. A quick sweep of my take showed that I’d made a fraction of what I usually did. That was fine. I still had another song to go.
The lights lowered, then lit back up. The crowd cheered as “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake blared over the speakers.
Another obvious choice, but the steady beat and his hypnotic voice drove our audiences wild. Plus, it was a bit of nostalgia for all the millennials in the crowd.
I leveled my baton at Alex as the opening bars were played on repeat. This was my pull-someone-from-the-audience song, and our DJ knew to keep the loop going until I had someone in my chair.
Alex looked around.
Keeping my baton pointed at him, I patted the chair. I was putting him on the spot. If he declined, I’d move on to someone else.
It was also a risk to bring a guy on stage. The crowd was exclusively women except for him, and while the ladies loved it when we got handsy with each other, I wasn’t sure they’d be so receptive to a male audience member getting such personalized attention.
But fuck it. I still had three more slots tonight and all tomorrow to make tips if this routine fell flat. I’d enjoy it, and so would Alex. That was all I cared about.
Moving my hips to the beat, I patted the chair again.
He glanced around, then stood. Confidently and like he owned the place, he strode up to the stage and stepped onto the platform.
Crooking my finger at him, I waited for him to come to me.
He did, smirking as he kept his eyes on mine and ignored his surroundings.
As soon as he was in front of the chair, the loop ended, and the song began. At J.T.’s first notes, I shoved him down onto the chair. He went willingly, his full attention focused on me.
Quickly and with a familiarity that came from doing this routine every weekend for months, I pulled out the prop handcuffs and snapped them on his wrists. His eyes blazed with lust as he looked up at me.
Moving around him, I used him as a prop as I did my routine, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. The audience went wild. When my shirt was off, I undid my utility belt and let it fall to the floor.
I turned back to Alex, put my hand on the back of his chair, and lowered myself so I hovered over him. We were only inches apart, and his perfect lips were parted and shiny. Fuck, I wanted to kiss him, but that wasn’t allowed.
I split my time between dancing for Alex, making sure to do as much bodywork as the song would allow, and stripping off my clothes for the audience.
When I was down to my undershirt and briefs, I waited until the song asked the audience if they were ready, then tore off my shirt, ripping it down the middle. The audience went wild. Bills rained down as I tossed the shirt into the crowd.
Left in only my micro briefs, I sauntered over to where Alex sat in the chair, his wrists bound and his chest heaving. He stared at me with open lust in his eyes.
Grabbing the cuffs, I pulled him out of the chair and brought him to the center of the stage. He came willingly, smiling. I pulled the chain of the cuffs behind his head to make sure he didn’t get handsy and get me in trouble, then gave his shoulder a little shove so he dropped to his knees.
The last thirty seconds of the song I ground around him sensually. The crowd screamed and shouted.
A lineup of women stood at the tip platform. I made eye contact with the first few. Hopefully, my smile told them I’d be right there.
As the last few bars of the song played, I hauled Alex back up and snapped the quick release cuffs off him. The lights stayed low as the song melted into “High for This” by The Weekend.
I took Alex’s hand and led him over to the platform. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. I kissed his cheek, which was allowed, and helped him onto the platform so he could go back to his seat.
One of the women in line held out a handful of bills to him as he passed her. Alex glanced at me, and I shrugged, amused by the entire situation.
Blushing, he took the money and let the woman kiss his cheek. She was probably old enough to be his mother, but it was all innocent fun.
When I was sure Alex was on his way to his seat, I turned my attention to the lineup and accepted the personal tips. Most of the ladies wanted to shove the bills into my briefs. A few stuck them into their cleavage and swooned when I used my teeth to pull them out.
I didn’t particularly like putting dirty bills into my mouth, even if I only used my teeth, but the move was a crowd pleaser, and it usually doubled the personal tips during my next solo song.
When the last person was back in their seats, the music cut out, and I gave the cheering crowd a little wave.
“Who was that?” Nick asked as soon as I’d closed the backstage door behind me.
“Huh?” I blinked as the adrenaline drop from being on stage hit.
“That guy. You know him?”
“He’s a… friend.”
Calling Alex that felt off, but what could I say? He was the guy I was fucking?
I kept my personal life away from work, and while that description would be true, it felt disingenuous. Alex was more than a guy I fucked, but I had no idea what we were to each other. Friends? Kind of. Lovers? Sure. Fuck buddies? Maybe. None of the titles felt right.
“Bold move, dancing for a guy.” Gray gave me a strange look.
“I took a chance.” I grabbed a towel from the stack near the door and wrapped it around my waist.
The backstage door opened, and Corey popped his head in. “Nick, get your ass ready. You’re on in thirty seconds!”
“Shit!” Nick squeaked, grabbed a pair of angel wings, and hurried to the door.
Corey ushered him onto the stage, then motioned for me to come to him. “Kai.”
Fuck. I was going to get in trouble for using Alex instead of one of the women.
I followed him into the prop closet, which was the only private place in the backstage area.
He closed the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You bringing that kid on stage.”
“He’s obviously at least twenty-one. Not a kid.”
“Kai.” Corey sighed heavily, his gaze condescendingly gentle. Like I was a toddler he was scolding after having a tantrum.
I liked Corey. He and Ray were married and owned this club and another on the end of the block that was all female and catered to a male crowd. Crimson was only open on the weekends, but Scarlet was open all week, and Ray spent most of his time at Scarlet while Corey ran Crimson. They were fair bosses and fun guys, but Corey had a bad habit of acting like a mother hen, even though he was only a few years older than me.
“You know how things are run around here.”
“I do.”
“Was that your boyfriend?”
“No.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Why did you bring a man on stage? You’ve set a dangerous precedent.”
“How is that dangerous?”
“We cater to women. This is their safe space. If it gets out that we encourage male audience members, it could affect our clientele and reputation.”
“I get what you’re saying, but how is one dance with a guy going to fuck up our reputation?”
“People talk. Stuff gets out online.”
“But isn’t there a rainbow sticker in the doorway?” I tilted my head, studying Corey, who shifted uncomfortably. “The guy I pulled up was obviously into men, so how is he making the place unsafe?”
“We don’t want straight guys to come here.” He sighed. “You know what it’s like at queer clubs. Straight guys come and harass women and get pissed if they get hit on. They make everyone feel unsafe.”
“That’s true.” I nodded slowly. “But this isn’t a club. And no straight guy is going to sit and watch other dudes shake their junk just to ogle women who are ignoring them and watching us dance.”
“Maybe not, but we’ve worked really hard to maintain our reputation.”
I didn’t agree with anything Corey said, but he was my boss, so I let it go. “It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He put his hand on the door handle.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“What?”
“How did I do in tips?”
He hesitated. “Good.”
“So obviously, the audience didn’t hate it.”
“Because you picked a pretty boy. Young and pretty is always a crowd-pleaser.”
Without another word, Corey pushed open the door and stepped out.
What the fuck was that about? I followed him and went to my cubby to get dressed.
“Who was that kid?” Gray asked as I wiped off the body oil still coating my skin.
“A friend. He lives with your brother.”
Gray shifted his eyes to the floor. “Oh yeah?”
“He told me to say hi.”
“Yeah.” Gray ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy.”
“Not my place to judge. Just passing on a message.”
“That friend. Are you with him?” Gray pressed.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Just wondering. You never mentioned you were with someone, and it’s not like you to bring people to work.”
That was true. Even when I’d worked at the dance club, I would ask one of the other bartenders to serve people I knew. Something about accepting tips from someone who’d known me since I was a toddler felt weird, especially when I knew how tight money was for most people I grew up with.
“He’s a friend, and he’s into guys. I figured he’d enjoy a night of watching us get our dance on.”
Gray nodded, his expression closed off. Whatever. Gray was a friend, but I didn’t have time for his bullshit.
I donned a pair of jeans and slipped on my Converse.
When Nick’s song ended and melted into an instrumental, I made my way to the front of the club.
Nick had a lineup of ladies waiting to pass him personal tips, and I skirted around them.
Several women grabbed at me, but I ignored them until one woman grabbed my back pocket and tried to pull me to a stop. Keeping my face calm, I waggled my finger at her in a mock scold.
She was clearly drunk and slapped my ass hard enough to sting. Fuck. I didn’t want to deal with this.
Corey and Ray encouraged us to do laps around the bar after our sets. It kept people interested, and it was a good way to keep the crowd busy between sets. Javi was on after Nick, and it took a while for them to set up his pole and silk ropes.
Biggs, our bouncer, appeared next to me, his huge arms crossed over his massive chest, and glared down at the woman who’d spanked me.
Leaving him to deal with her, I made my way to Alex’s table and knelt next to him.
“That was unexpected.” He blushed.
“Did I put you on the spot?”
He shook his head. “I liked it.”
“Me too.” I glanced around. “I still have three more sets. I won’t be able to bring you on stage again.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“No,” I half lied. “It’s just not a good idea to show favoritism when I’m shaking my junk for tips.”
He chuckled, his eyes bright and filled with so much happiness my breath hitched.
Had I ever seen him smile like that? Surly, sulky Alex was hot as fuck, but happy Alex was breathtaking.
“How about you go back to my place and relax? I’ll be home later.”
He gave me a strange look.
I leaned in and spoke close to his ear. “I want to try something with you tonight.” Britney’s “Gimme More” began playing, a sign that Nick was done and they were still setting up for Javi’s slot. “How would you feel about making one of your fantasies come true?”
“Really?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. Take a shower and get all nice and ready for me. I want you asleep in my bed. I’ll be home around three. You’ll get your reward then.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay.”
I pulled my keys out of my pocket and slipped my house key off the ring.
He took it. “Do you need me to leave the door unlocked?”
My building wasn’t in a great neighborhood, but the building itself was relatively safe. Other than package thieves, there hadn’t been any issues since I’d lived there. Still, I didn’t like the idea of Alex being vulnerable and alone with the door unlocked.
I shook my head. “I have a spare.”
He gave me a small smile. “I’ll see you later?”
“Later.”
I wanted to kiss those shiny, perfect lips but held back. For one, I had no doubt Corey was watching us, and two, kissing wasn’t allowed, even our partners or lovers. If the women saw me planting one on Alex, they’d think it was okay to do the same.
Giving him what I hoped was a sexy, secret smile, I stood and did another lap of the tables, quelling the urge to turn around to watch him leave.
I picked a few timid-looking women and went over to say hi and ask them if they were enjoying themselves. Not a great strategy for making tips, but I liked seeing their faces light up as I talked to them. It was vain as fuck, but I knew I looked good, and a little attention could go a long way in boosting someone’s self-esteem.
The lights flickered, the signal that Javi’s routine was about to start, and I quickly made my way backstage. One hour down, three more to go.
