16Dylan
Dylan, Jag, and Kyrone started their dance at the back of the stage, heads bowed. As the track started, they looked up slowly. Immediately, Dylan found Tattoo Boy at the bar and focused on him. At least for one song, he wasn’t dancing for anyone else but Callum.
They walked forward and grabbed their poles with one hand and then the other. They lifted one leg, bent at the knee as they leant over further, until their torsos were parallel to the floor. Then they extended their raised legs, stretching up and back until their toes touched the pole. They held the position for a couple of beats, long enough for leering men to ogle them, and then swung their legs down to step behind their poles.
Normally, Dylan would have been soaking up the stares and wolf whistles, but for that dance he was immune to them all. The only man that mattered was Callum. He made eye contact with Callum. Tattoo Boy smiled coyly as he cleaned the bar top with a cloth, not taking his stare off Dylan.
After taking a couple of steps back, Dylan and his co-dancers stepped forward fast enough to gain momentum so they could grasp their pole again and pull themselves up and over into a handstand. They paused for a second before swinging their legs over their heads in a cartwheel fashion, landing gracefully on the ground. Dylan’s heart skipped as he saw that Callum was still watching him, even though he was taking an order from a customer.
They swung around their poles, lifting one leg as they pushed up onto tiptoes on the other. After twisting around the pole erotically, they finished the move with their backs to the audience. Without pause, they took hold of the pole and lent back, kicking their legs up so they were upside down. They hooked one leg around the pole for support and stretched the other out. Even inverted, Dylan could see the smile on Callum’s face. He was pulling a pint of beer, but he was still definitely still watching Dylan dance.
Slowly, the three dancers stretched their arms out and then grabbed the poles closer to the ground. Squeezed the pole between their thighs and bodies as they rotated their legs into splits. Callum winced, which made Dylan chuckle. The punters whistled and cheered.
They transitioned into a handstand on the ground, with the pole wedged between their butt cheeks. Dylan took the opportunity to wink at Callum, who blushed fiercely, before lowering his feet to the ground and raising his body, arching his back until his shoulders were almost touching the pole. They grabbed their poles above their heads and swung up into a shoulder mount roll, landing on the opposite side.
Using the pole for support, they arched back into the bridge, one leg raised, before lowering themselves to the floor. They raised their hips, thrusting their groins into the air to raucous applause from the punters, before shoulder rolling onto their stomachs. They pushed back, so their legs were splayed on either side of them, their arses thrust back and then rippled forward, shifting their weight onto their hands as they stretched their legs back and rose up on the flats of their toes. They rippled their bodies in a highly suggestive manner. Callum was still staring, jaw slack, eyes wide. Dylan hoped it was with lust. Was the dance turning Callum on? Fuck, he hoped so. Not because he wanted to rush Callum into anything, but so he knew how good it felt.
They spent the next minute of the dance mostly doing erotic floor work, getting the crowd horny so that they’d pay for stripteases once their set was done. When they moved back to their poles, it was to do a series of spins and inverts that left Dylan’s muscles aching as he switched from one position to another. He loved pole dancing but it was hard work, especially under hot spotlights. He was dripping with sweat by the time the dance ended; they all were. Dylan was pretty sure the sweat made them look sexier, because it made their bodies shine under the lights.
As much as he would have loved to have devoted every dance to Callum, he knew he had to focus on the crowd. For the rest of the set, he turned his attention to the punters, making eye contact, winking, blowing kisses—anything it took to make as many men want to see him naked as possible.
He did well during their time on the floor, scoring seven private dances. During each one, he imagined he was stripping for Callum. He wondered if Tattoo Boy would ever be up for a private routine back at his place. Maybe he would, one day.
When his break time rolled around, he headed to the bar and hopped onto the stool closest to where Callum was standing, pouring drinks for a customer. He ignored a couple of pointed looks from Mac, putting up a finger to signal to the manager that he was only going to be there for one minute. Of course, one minute turned into about five before Callum was able to turn to him. Tattoo Boy hadn’t got much faster at making drinks, but then, he had only been working there for a little over a week.
“I’m gagging for some water,” Dylan said.
Callum’s cheeks became pink and he rolled his eyes.
“No glib response?” Dylan asked.
“It would only encourage you,” Callum said as he got Dylan a bottle of water. He handed it over and then snatched it just out of reach. “You’re got no cash, have you?”
“Put it on my tab.”
“You have a tab?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Mac said. “There’s water in the changing room, off you go.”
“You’re no fun,” Dylan said, hopping off the barstool.
“You know the rules. Now quit flirting and go.”
Callum stared at the bar, his cheeks bright red. Guilt stabbed Dylan’s gut. He hadn’t meant to do anything to make Callum feel uncomfortable, let alone to potentially out him. The gorgeous guy was only just wrapping his head around liking men, it was unlikely that he was ready to broadcast it to the world.
He mouthed ‘sorry’ to Callum, before saluting to Mac. “Yes, boss.”
“Get on with you,” Mac snapped.
Dylan hurried off. He glanced over his shoulder before going through to the back. Mac was talking to Callum. Had Dylan got Tattoo Boy into trouble? Shit.
* * *
Whilst the dancers left via the back of the club, the bar staff and the bouncers went out the front. Dylan got showered, changed, and cashed in his striptease tokens as quickly as he could so he could get to the front of the club before Callum left for the night. He only just made it—Callum was walking down the street as he got to the club entrance. Dylan jogged after him.
“Callum,” he said, once he was close enough to be heard without having to raise his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was give the guy a fright.
Callum turned, expression initially tense, but then he smiled. “Hey.”
