Mac flipped the wage book shut. “Well, I guess I’m done for the night. You hitting the showers?”
Jag smiled and shook his head. “Not yet.”
Mac peered at him curiously but didn’t ask. “See you tomorrow, kid.”
Since they’d become more than fuck buddies, Jag had taken to getting clean and dressed before meeting Michael, but he had other ideas that night.
He waited for all the dancers to leave and then headed to the front of house. He’d managed to get the DJ to teach him how to turn on the music and the lights, so he made that his first job. He selected a sultry tune, made the lights low and red, and turned on the spotlight that illuminated the central pole. Then he slipped into one of the private booths, leaving the condom and lube he’d brought with him on the low table that stood off to one side. The punters were encouraged to take their drinks with them when they had private dances rather than leaving them unattended.
He’d barely got onto the stage when Michael wandered through from the back.
“I thought you’d be in the showers,” he said over the music.
Jag simply smiled and indicated one of the bucket chairs that stood around the stage.
“I’m not going to complain about a private dance,” Michael said, grinning as he took a seat. He settled back into the chair, his arms resting on his thighs.
Jag turned his back to Michael, posed with one arm raised, his hand resting on the back of his neck, the other extended away from his body, fingers flexed. He raised his lowered arm in a wide arc until his fingers were pointing straight up and then spun on the spot, turning a revolution and a half so he ended up facing Michael. He walked forwards, pointing his bare toes and working his hips before doing a sultry shimmy whilst resting a hand on his inner thigh, close to his crotch. He grabbed the pole, raised one leg, but kept the other foot on the floor as he spun around and then did a slow, seductive body roll. He kept his eyes locked with Michael’s as much as was safe. In the absence of being able to find the right words, dancing was how he could show Michael how he felt about him.
He kept dancing, mostly on the pole, but he did several moves away from it too. Arching his back, gyrating his hips, he pulled out every sexy move he had in his repertoire. He did gravity-defying spins on the pole, working his way up and back down again, focussing on tricks that had him spreading his legs or moving his hands close to his thighs. All the while, he could see desire building up in Michael’s eyes.
To end, he leant against the pole, facing Michael, his back arched, hips thrust forwards. With his hand over his crotch, he gyrated his hips in large, slow movements, making his eyelids purposefully heavy. Then he rolled round the pole a half step, finishing in his customary position.
Michael applauded and wolf-whistled him. Jag caught his breath and then hopped down off the stage.
“What did I do to deserve that?” Michael asked, voice husky.
“Everything,” Jag whispered, holding out his hand.
Michael arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he took Jag’s hand. Jag tugged him to his feet and led him to the booth he’d prepared earlier, shutting the curtains behind him.
“Another dance?” Michael asked.
“Not quite.” He nodded towards the supplies on the table.
Michael tracked his gaze and shivered. “You want to fuck me in here?”
The booths had to have been the only place in the club they hadn’t had sex.
“No.”
With the music still thrumming through him, Jag performed what had to have been the fastest striptease of his life. He wasn’t interested in two and a half minutes of preamble, so he went straight to undoing the button and slowly tugging the zipper down, circling his hips as he slid off his jeans. The jockstrap he wore for dancing came off next. He twirled it round his fingers and, with his other hand, pushed Michael backwards, onto the oversized chair, before dropping the jockstrap into his lap. He joined it a moment later, rubbing himself over Michael’s clothed dick in a series of erotic movements in time to the music until he was sure they were both hard and wanting.
“Fuck,” Michael whispered. He ran his hands down Jag’s bare back and over his arse, applying light pressure with his nails.
Jag sucked in a breath and arched his neck and back, rising up so Michael’s lips could caress his chest and stomach before dipping his mouth to Michael’s for a long, passionate kiss. As they kissed, he got rid of Michael’s tie and quickly undid his shirt, tugging it off and throwing it aside. He slipped off Michael’s lap, onto his knees so he could take off the older man’s trousers, underpants, and socks. He glanced up, amused that traces of silver body paint glinted over Michael’s mouth, chin, and the tip of his nose. Michael’s hands were also covered. He used his mouth to pleasure and tease Michael’s cock for a short while, taking him as deep as he possibly could and using his tongue to stimulate his shaft. Michael gripped the arms of the chair, groaning. He whimpered when Jag stopped and rocked back onto his heels, and they locked stares again.
Jag grabbed the condom, carefully tearing the packet. He looked at Michael’s cock and then met the older man’s stare again. “Will you?”
“Fuck you?” Michael asked as though needing the clarification.
Jag swallowed and nodded, trepidation shivering through him. This was something he rarely did, one part of himself he hadn’t given to anyone since Ian. But he wanted to give himself to Michael.
“I’d love to,” Michael breathed, reaching a shaking hand out for the condom.
Jag gently swatted his hand away and then rolled the condom onto Michael’s cock himself. He lubed it up slowly, taking his time to rub and massage Michael’s dick through the thin layer of rubber. Licking his lips, he straddled Michael’s lap.
Michael’s hands rested on Jag’s hips. “Are you sure?”
