He’d checked to make sure that all the security cameras were working before opening. It was one of his daily jobs. The last thing he wanted was to find out a camera wasn’t workingaftera dancer had gone into a booth alone with a punter. Those cameras were the only way to enforce the no touching rule in the private spaces. If punters were going to touch, it was most likely to happen whilst they had a naked dancer in front of them. There hadn’t been any trouble since he’d taken over ownership of the club and installed the cameras, but there had been plenty of gropers trying their luck before that.
He sat at the bar. Tim, the bartender, served him a scotch on the rocks before he’d even asked for it. He nodded his thanks and began to scan the club, keeping an eye out for anyone who potentially looked like trouble. He had bouncers—two at the door, four inside, and one watching the security cameras in a back office—but liked to keep an eye on things himself.
Mac and the other two guys danced for about twenty minutes before vacating the stage for the next trio. The three dancers began to circulate around the room, flirting suggestively with each guy that showed even a passing interest. As Michael had predicted, the curtains were pulled shut on one of the private booths a few minutes later. When the second wave of dancers left the stage to entice men into paying for private dancers, Mac’s trio headed backstage to take a quick break.
Jag’s trio was the next on stage. He took the left-hand pole, and he was all Michael could focus on. The light loved the young dancer. It poured over his fine limbs, making his painted skin shimmer exquisitely. As Jag danced, there was a shift in the mood in the bar, a palpable joint holding of breath. He was so striking to watch, whether he was performing simple spins or complex poses, that Michael couldn’t take his eyes off him. Time meant nothing as every sense in his body focused intently on the dancer.
Twenty minutes vanished in a heartbeat, and he felt a pang of jealousy as Jag slipped off the stage to circulate amongst the punters. Michael left the bar to move through the not-insignificant crowd of men. He checked in on some of the regular customers, all the while making his way closer to Jag. Despite the blaring music, he managed to get close enough to hear the conversation the young man was having with one of the punters.
“Does that body paint goallthe way down?” the man asked.
Jag’s mouth curled into the seductive smile that he’d used on Michael a couple of times. “Hand me a token and we can go find out.”
Michael couldn’t help but chuckle as the man practically fell over himself to get to the bar, where he could hand over twenty pounds in exchange for a private dance token.
“You’re a fast worker,” Michael said as Jag wandered over to him.
Jag folded his arms, resting his weight on his right leg so his hips were thrown off centre. “The more dances I get in, the more I go home with.” He nodded towards the man, who was making his way back toward him, brandishing a round silver coin that was imprinted with the club logo. “Time to go to work.”
Michael lightly touched Jag’s arm as he walked past him. “How far does the body paint go?” Why the hell was he asking that? Of course he wanted to know, but it was a stupid thing to say out loud.
Jag chuckled softly. His eyes stared into Michael’s as though he were trying to see directly into Michael’s soul. “Would you like to find out?”
Fuck, yes. Michael cleared his throat and let his arm drop to his side. “Don’t forget to hand your tokens in at the end of the night.”
Jag’s smiled deepened. “I won’t.”
Michael watched as Jag led the man into one of the vacant booths. After settling him in a large armchair that was pushed against the wall, Jag turned and started to close the curtains. He paused, holding them a few centimetres apart as he stared at Michael from across the room. Michael knew his lust had been too obvious. He’d put it on display, and Jag hadn’t failed to notice. There was no sense trying to hide it now. He returned Jag’s stare, not looking away until the curtains finally closed.
4Jag
Jag’s first night at Heaven and Hell was electrifying. His first week flew by. It helped that the guys he danced with were a lot of fun to be around. There was a great feeling of camaraderie in the changing rooms, which extended to the club floor, but as he joined in on their banter, he had to keep reminding himself of rule number four. Making friends would make it harder to walk away, which he would have to do sooner or later. It was the best place he’d ever worked in, so part of him wanted to stay as long as possible, if he dared to push his luck.
Most nights had been a success for him, in terms of scoring private dances. The body paint was a big help. The number of guys who wanted to know if his whole body was covered astounded him. To be fair, it was probably just a pretext, especially for the older guys who might have felt a bit uncomfortable about watching a significantly younger man strip naked for them. He hoped he was able to dance their discomfort away. The age of the men he danced for had never bothered him; they were paying customers. He didn’t mind the way they stared at him, their eyes hungry, and their lips parted. While he was on stage and for those three minutes, he didn’t mind being nothing more than an object of desire. There was something exhilarating about knowing men wanted him. It was probably a good thing he’d only found that outafterhis ‘therapy’ rather than before. As much as he tried not to, he wondered what theories Dr Miller would have come up with to explain his exhibitionist behaviour away. He doubted any of them would have made him feel good about himself.
It wasn’t just the punters who paid for private dances that wanted him. Michael was barely concealing his desire, and Jag knew he was doing nothing to discourage his new boss. He returned the lusty stares with seductive smiles and took every opportunity he could to talk to the club manager, even if it was just exchanging a few words in passing. He knew he was playing with fire. Michael seemed like a genuinely nice guy; the kind of man Jag would want to get to know better if he didn’t have to live by his rules. He’d almost hoped that Michael hadn’t been so nice. That he’d been just as free with his hands as many of the other men Jag had encountered in the past, but the club manager had had several opportunities to make a pass at him, moments when they’d been alone and Jag had been in a state of half undress; he hadn’t taken advantage of any of those occasions, which Jag hoped meant he wasn’t a jerk. He’d lost more than one gig for refusing a quick fuck in a manager’s office, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.
But that didn’t seem to be how things worked at Heaven and Hell. The other dancers had nothing but positive things to say about Michael. Which was why he shouldn’t fancy the man. In Jag’s experience, nice men didn’t want a quick, no-strings fuck, which was all he had to offer. That didn’t stop him from hoping Michael would want exactly that. Nor did it stop him from thinking about giving him an invitation to touch.
“You did good tonight, kid,” Mac said as he counted Jag’s tokens. “You must have made a decent amount this week.”
“I think so,” Jag said, glad he was about to get paid. The cash from his previous job hadn’t lasted as long as he’d hoped. The last-minute train fare had taken a big chunk of it, not to mention wasting some on a night he’d never spent at the youth hostel when he’d first arrived in this city.
“I’ve been watching you dance. You’ve got some serious moves. Who taught you?”
Jag shrugged. “I picked up stuff up from other guys I danced with.” He grinned. “I’ve learned one or two new moves off you.” He hoped his comment would deflect Mac from asking questions.
Mac laughed. “Eh, I’m starting to get a bit too old for all this now. I don’t attract the same number of punters anymore. Not like you young guys.” He sighed, and his eyes became soft. “I’ve had a good run, though. At least I can say I’ve loved my job all these years.”
“You’re thinking of leaving?”
Mac shook his head. “Just quitting the dancing. Michael’s promised me a job here as long as I want one. I’ll probably work behind the bar or do security.”
“You two go way back, don’t you?” Why was he even asking that? It was none of his business, and finding out more about either man was stupid. The more he knew, the more he was likely to start liking them. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to make money so he could survive from day to day.
Mac arched an eyebrow, his stare searching Jag’s. “We sure do.”
“I’ve worked for a lot of shitty bosses,” Jag said, careful to be vague enough that he wasn’t breaking rule number two. “Michael seems different.”Shut up, shut up, shut up. His mouth didn’t normally run off like this. He’d spent a lot of time schooling himself to be tight-lipped.
