“It’s invigorating,” I said with a laugh, but he only jutted his bottom lip farther, and that made everything better. He was cute this way. I got out and grabbed the pillow from where I had it stashed in the back, and I could tell it was killing him not knowing what it was for, because he kept glancing at it then me. He still hadn’t asked, and I only winked at him when he popped his bottom lip in my direction on purpose.
In spite of the traffic in the parking lot, the line at the door was almost nonexistent. There were four bouncers checking everyone in, and Laurent laughed when he saw me and waved us closer. He gave me a little smirk as he studied Max briefly.
“Jean-Paul Dubois and Maxwell Kalinski,” I murmured.
“Yeah, you’re on the short list. Go before your nipples fall off,” he said with a gusty laugh.
We went inside and the music immediately washed over us, along with catcalls and whooping. The lights were dark over the main part of the room, with only the bar lit by a low glow, and the stage radiant with a spotlight. The room was crowded and the bar was standing-room only, even though it was barely eight o’clock.
Vic had been circulating through the guests and came over to greet us. People knew him and moved out of his way with smiles and an occasional word in his direction. He reached us and gave Max a light hug, and I was surprised when he turned and did the same thing to me.
“Tonight is a night at the theater,” he said, half seriously gesturing at the stage. Sugar was on the pole the spotlight was centered on, hanging dramatically with both feet curved up to touch his own ass while he supported himself one-handed. The sparkly blue ballet tights he wore on his bottom half might as well not exist at all, and only served to highlight his tight, rounded muscles.
“Oh!” Max clapped and bounced on his heels. “He’s good!”
“Didn’t know you hired acrobats.”
Vic only laughed. “We’re a talented bunch of perverts and miscreants here at Triple X. We’ll give Black Out a run for its money all seven days of the week.” He shook his head, and we watched Sugar move into another graceful position, suspending himself on the pole with both legs parted in a split that was shocking to see.
Vic noticed the pillow I carried and gave me a pat on the shoulder as he nodded at it. “Saved you two a seat near the stage.”
He traveled a winding path through the tables, nearly as nimble about not knocking legs or feet or spilling drinks as Sugar was onstage. Max and I had to be more careful and apologized more than once as we followed him. The table he gave us was in the last row before the single seats that ringed the stage, which were full tonight. There was a jar onstage that money made its way into, rather than being stuffed in Sugar’s pants, and I thought maybe that was in deference to what seemed to be a well-thought-out performance.
I tossed the pillow onto the floor and Max stared at it and then me. “Present yourself, boy,” I said casually. My heart raced. I wasn’t honestly sure he was ready to do anything in public, but here we were, and it had been his idea. It didn’t matter how instrumental Max was in making tonight happen, if things went poorly, I’d still blame myself.
He eyed me and then Vic.
Vic crossed his arms and a serious expression settled on his handsome face.
Max’s eyes widened and he dropped to his knees on the pillow. He squirmed as if he wasn’t sure the pillow was comfortable and rested his hands on his thighs while giving me covert looks under his lashes.
“Good boy,” I shouted to be heard over the swell of music from Sugar’s set.
Vic leaned his arm against mine and said, “Fuck, that’s pretty.”
Grinning, I nodded at him.
“Your room will be ready in a while. I’ll send someone out for you.” He reached down and petted Max’s head like he was an exceptionally well-behaved puppy. People near us noticed the addition of Max on the floor, and there were several appraising glances: some filled with sex, some with envy, and one asshole rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the stage. That pissed me off. Yes, Max was only on his knees for me on a pillow, fully dressed, but he was declaring to the public at large—or at least the sheltered-kink public here at Triple X—that I was his Daddy. He was serving me. I went down on one knee beside him. His chest rose and fell fast, and his eyes were glassy—with fear or excitement or lust, I wasn’t sure—and there was a definite bulge in his leather pants.
“Daddy’s proud. You’re so beautiful and doing such a good job.”
He grinned at me. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I couldn’t help it, I kissed him. Hard. He melted under my touch and danced a soft caress along my shoulders. There was a burst of applause and I glanced up at the stage. Sugar was doing a flashy twirl on the pole and appeared totally lost in his performance, agile and otherworldly. I stood and sat at the table. A server came by with a tray of shots, and I bought one for myself to steady my nerves. I winced my way through an electric-pink, candy-sweet mix that probably had more sugar than alcohol.
“You can face the stage, boy,” I said, and Max smiled as he turned but held his presentation pose. It was still nice to see him on the floor, and his ass looked great. I was satisfied with my evening so far. I reached down to brush my fingers over the warm metal at his throat, and he shivered.
When Sugar’s set was done, he gave a fluttering bow at the edge of the stage, and then his attention landed on Max. He beamed and hopped down as another willowy man, in nothing but see-through harem-boy pants and a matching purple thong, took the stage to the sultry beats of what I thought might be a Turkish song, though I couldn’t be certain. The man rolled his hips and a collective applause went up, along with some definite moans.
Sugar bounced over to us and went down on his knees next to Max to give him a hug. We’d only gotten together with him a couple of times since he stopped by with Vic to help out. I thought that should change, given the way Max’s entire face glowed as he said something to Sugar. He needed people around who he could relate to, and it seemed Sugar was one.
Sugar turned a little to include me in their conversation. “Yahya’s mother teaches belly dancing in New Gothenburg,” he said and grinned. “Isn’t he a-fucking-mazing? That boy’s ass is a wonder. If I could get my hips to do that, I’d never leave the bedroom. God.” He swung back around to stare along with the rest of the mesmerized crowd. “Look at those glutes work that fucking stage. Take it off!” Sugar called, and there was laughter around us.
We all watched Yahya, a tad transfixed. He popped his body and moved his arms with a sensuousness that left no room for thoughts of anything but sex. Sugar said something to Max that had him blushing and lifting his hands to his face.
“Boy,” I barked, and both Sugar and Max glanced at me with wide eyes. I wasn’t interested in Sugar the same way I was my boy, but I couldn’t help the twinge of satisfaction that socked through my gut. “Did I tell you that you could move out of position?”
“No, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy,” Max said and slapped his hands to his thighs again. Sugar winked at me and settled down just like Max, ass on his heels and hands on his thighs, apparently intent on watching the next couple of sets with us, which was fine.
