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“I wasn’t looking at his eyes.”

That gets a laugh out of everyone, even me.

The room is smaller than scandal should be. A bench. A stage. A few tables. We’re the only people besides the bartender and the shower guy with the weaponized dick.

Paul guides me to a table near the front. I sit close enough that our knees touch.

“This is not the palace of sin I pictured,” I say.

“Except for the dongosaurus.”

I almost spit out my drink.

“You’ve been here before?”

“With Renny once when it was new and there were actual customers.”

“Were there Jurassic cocks then?”

“Not quite that Jurassic.”

He says it lightly, but his eyes move toward the back.

A dark doorway.

“You’re psychic,” I say. “Did you know that was there?”

“No. Just been gay for a long time.”

As if the bar heard him, a line of men comes in through the back. Bare chests. Smooth skin. Thin white towels slung low on their hips leaving very little to the imagination.

Alby claps like someone just brought dessert.

“Now it’s getting fun.”

He goes first, dancing to the stage with a bill already in hand.

Brad gives Mateo money. Mateo kisses his cheek, then walks up and picks a shorter guy with thick arms and a bored smile. The guy opens his towel just enough to show what’s for sale before leading Mateo and Brad through the doorway.

Alby touches the cheek of a young man built like a gladiator.

I look away.

“What happens back there?” I ask.

Paul’s hand covers mine.

“Lap dances, most likely.”

“That’s all?”

His mouth tightens. “Probably depends on the pesos.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

He squeezes my hand. “We can go.”

I look at the doorway. At the shower. At Alby smiling up at the young gladiator.