“Seems as if you’re managing both things.”
Michael smiled. “In general, yes.” There was an awkward pause, and then Michael cleared his throat. “Now, back to questions we canbothanswer, assuming you still want to play?”
“You can ask me something,” Jag whispered. It felt wrong to know all that about Michael but to give nothing in return. “But I reserve the right to refuse to answer,” he added hurriedly. He wouldn’t compromise himself for anything, not even guilt.
“All right…” Michael said ponderously. “How did you get into pole dancing?”
Jag stared at the stage between them, figuring out how to answer without giving too much away. “I needed a job, saw an advert, and applied.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Yeah.”
It hadn’t been that simple at all. He’d been desperate for cash, homeless, and had spent several nights on the street, terrified of what might happen to him. He’d been propositioned too many times to count, often by much bigger men who really didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer. When he’d seen the sign in the club window, he’d practically begged the manager to give him a shot. That had led to money in his pocket, giving him the ability to find somewhere safe to sleep. But he couldn’t tell Michael any of that.
“Wasn’t it the same for you?” he asked in order to deflect attention away from himself.
“Actually, I did it for a dare.”
Jag raised his eyebrows.
Michael’s smile became wistful. “I was in university and had gone out with my housemates to a straight pole dancing club. They knew I was cash strapped, so they pooled together to bet me a hundred quid I wouldn’t jump on the stage and dance as all the women were. I couldn’t pass that kind of cash up. I can’t have made that much of a prat of myself because I won the money, and afterwards, one of the bouncers stopped me and slipped me the card to this place.” He chuckled. “I got a job here and kissed goodbye to my student cash flow woes.”
“You’ve been here since you were a student?”
“Not quite. I got a desk job after uni. But after a few years, I got laid off and ended up back here. The rest, as they say, is history. Next question?”
Jag’s head screamed at him to stop asking questions and leave, but he found he was fascinated by Michael’s history.
“How did you meet Mac?”
Michael laughed. “You’re cheating again.”
Jag pouted. “That’s a question I can answer.”
“Yes, but I already know the answer.”
Jag felt heat rush to his cheeks. “Uh. True.” He wasn’t doing well with the game of questions and answers.
“Here,” Michael said. “He was already a regular dancer when I started here the second time around. We became friends pretty quickly. I was his best man.”
Maybe that went part way to explaining why Mac had prompted Jag to fuck Michael. And now here they were, getting all cosy and asking each other questions. Damn it, he was an idiot. He faked a wide yawn.
“I really should go and sleep.”
“I have a bed upstairs,” Michael pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay the night.” He stroked Jag’s cheek. “We could have more fun in the morning, when we’re both rested.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Which part? We can skip sleep and get straight to fooling around.”
Jag clenched his jaw and glared at the floor. He didn’t want to offend Michael, but he needed to keep their boundaries intact. Going upstairs, into Michael’s flat, felt too intimate. Which was ridiculous, as he’d seen and touched every inch of Michael’s body, but he knew what he meant, even if he couldn’t explain it in any rational way.
“Help me out here,” Michael said. “I’m trying to understand you a bit better, but you’re proving to be a mystery.”
“You don’t need to understand me,” Jag said. “We’re fucking, that’s all.” If it was turning into more than that for Michael, they’d need to stop.
“I don’t need to, but I want to.”
