Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (61 page)

back curved, muscles in my neck strained, mouth open on a shout, and

the pervs go wild.

I relax, raise my head, eyes heavy-lidded and a small smile on my

lips. I’ve practiced this pose, the self-satisfied smirk of a man who’s

come while they didn’t.

Slipping my hand free of my g-string, I grab my camouflage pants

and make a show of wiping my hand, men yelling, asking if they can

have a small taste.

Creepy.

A small wink at the loudest of ‘em and I exit, stage right, ass

wiggling. The bouncer will collect the take. I always slip him a

quarter of my tips, just for handling that part for me. I don’t like

getting that close to the audience and the guys seem to eat it up. My

distance, the aloof Army twink.

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Down a few dimly-lit hallways and the main dressing room is to

my right. I slip in, find it empty. Not too many guys working a

Thursday night and I know Marcus goes up after me.

I strip the poor excuse for underwear off and slip back into my

jeans, legs of ‘em big enough so that I don’t even have to lose the

boots. They hang low on my hips, tiniest bit of my pubes showing

above the waist, but the customers like being able to see that bit of

teasing. My favorite vest completes the extent of my dressing. It

doesn’t provide much cover, but that’s not its purpose. The idiots in

the front of the place like to have something to touch, play with, tug

on when they want me a bit closer. It does that.

One last breath for courage and I’m heading down another

hallway, giving myself a pep talk. I mean, it’s no different than

meeting with the benefactors after a performance of Swan Lake,

right?

Wrong.

Rich patrons aren’t staring at you like they’d like to bend you over

the bar.

Okay, some of them used to look at me like that, but they never

said a word.

These customers do. They offer money, a good time and,

probably, disease.

Yeah, thanks but no thanks.

The main area of the club is dim and I still a moment while my

eyes adjust, Marcus’ music already thumping as he gyrates on stage.

Now, Marcus loves this life, the money, the attention. And, honestly,

I’m happy for him, that this works.

The customers don’t notice my reappearance yet, so I amble

toward the bar and Luca, the bartender and owner, places a bottle of

water on the smooth cherry surface at my approach.

I slip onto a stool with a small smile and murmured thanks.

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“No problem.” He goes back to polishing glasses, moseying

toward the other end of the counter and topping off some guy’s drink.

He’s a big man, thick thighs, scary-as-shit bis. Guy could crush

me, no problem. So, I’ll stay where I’m at and pretend he’s not there.

I’m supposed to be sociable, but…

Luca’s still talking to the guy so I swing around on the stool, back

against the bar, sipping at my water and watching Marcus move.

He’s not a “real” dancer. Then again, I’m not either. I shouldn’t

judge.

He’s getting a good amount of attention. At least enough to keep

‘em away from me, so I’m a happy camper at the moment.

“Tevin!” That’s the boss calling for me and I turn toward him,

pulling my brows together when I see him waving me over.

Fuck. He wants me to play nice with the big motherfucker.

I slink toward them. Slink. That’s right. The practiced roll of my

hips that screams sex, pretty pout on my lips that’ll make him wonder

what it’d be like to fuck my face.

I won’t, but a strip club is about the tease, right?

I ease onto the stool next to Luca’s new friend, making sure, I

brush against him and he just looks at me, single brow raised. As if

saying “excuse me?”.

I turn away from him and focus on my boss. “You beckoned?”

“I’d like you to meet Zeke. Zeke, this is Tevin.”

I hold out my hand for Zeke and he envelopes me with his bear

paw. I remain passive, grip loose. I’m sex incarnate, submissive and

just a play toy. At least, I pretend to be for customers.

“Hello.” I purr. Honest to god.

Again, I get a single brow before Zeke releases me and turns that

look to Luca.

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With a sigh, my boss growls at me. “Quit it, Tev. He’s not a

customer. He’s a buddy from the Army.”

Really?

So, I turn it off. The sexy invitations vanish and I’m just a twenty-

two year old ex-ballet dancer again. Complete with horrible posture.

My instructors always bitched about that.

“You have the most beautiful extension on-stage and you slouch

like a slob off-stage.”
This proclamation was typically followed by a

cluck of their tongue.

I put my elbow on the bar, prop my chin on my hand and turn to

Zeke. “So, what brings you to our fair establishment? Other than

naked boys.”

I get a smile then, even a chuckle. Well, I can’t hear it, but his

chest (big assed chest) shakes. “I’m just checking out Luca’s bar. I

moved here a couple of weeks ago and he’s been asking me to come

down, have a drink.” He pauses, gaze taking me in from head to toe.

“Check things out.”

And just like that, I don’t give a damn that he’s checking me out.

His voice is deep, growly like the bear he is and I can just imagine

what
he’d
look like naked.

There’s a bellow from a customer and Luca disappears, leaving

me with Mr. Army Guy.

“So, how are you finding things in our little old town?” I brace my

feet on the stool and lean over the bar, snag a little bowl of peanuts to

nosh on.

When I turn back to him, I find him looking at me. Not in the

“we’re having a conversation” kind of way. Oh, no. It’s the “let’s find

a flat surface” kind of way.

He takes a swig of his beer, sets it down as he turns toward me

and gives me a better look at how well built he is.

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I thought his thighs were thick, bis are enormous, hands as big as

dinner plates, but his shoulders are as wide as an axe handle. Swear to

god.

This dude doesn’t just have muscles, he
is
a muscle.

“It’s nice. I live over by Crestview, small neighborhood, quiet.

But at least I can still find some nightlife and entertainment.”

And he’s not looking at me like he’s thinking this club is his idea

of “nightlife and entertainment”.

“Yeah, Crestview is a pretty gay-friendly community and we’ve

got a lot of different events for us queer folks.” I wink at him and he

smiles big, reaching all the way up to his bright blue eyes. Hot damn.

Why’d I have to meet him here?

“Good to know.”

And I can’t figure out if he’s happy to know about the events or

that I’m one of the queer folks. “Yeah, there’s a munch—”

I stop myself, realizing I probably just told a vanilla guy about a

kinky lunch. Okay, I’m into kink and Luca’s into kink, hence the

knowledge of the munch, but who knows if Zeke is?

“Really?” His eyes seem to light up a bit, like he knows exactly

what he’d be getting into.

So I nod and take a sip of water. “Yeah, there’s a little restaurant

in your area. Gianni’s?” He nods and I continue. “We meet at twelve

thirty. Patrick has reserved the back dining room for us. Just tell him

you’re with the Callan party. He runs the local club and sets these up

once a month for his friends.”

“You’ll be there?”

And he sounds like he really wants me to say yes. So I do. I had

planned on doing some errands, but being with Zeke, this giant of a

man, seemed like more fun. Okay, honestly, I just wanted to stare at

him some more. “Yup, I’ll…”

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I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Angry yelling and glasses

breaking came from my left and I looked over to find Marcus on

stage. Nude. Fuck, but we’re not a nude club. We all know that, but I

know he needs money which is probably what prompted him to go

bare. He’d get fired, but the extra cash on the stage would probably be

worth it to him.

I watched as some of the idiots climbed on stage, others breaking

furniture. The bouncers swam in and protected Marcus while they

tried to calm the crowd, but it wasn’t going well.

This business… well, it wasn’t always just pretty boys and dollar

bills.

Zeke rose from his stool, big man seeming to grow to six feet in

front of me, and leaned toward me. “You’re too good for this, Tevin.

Too good for all of it.” His eyes are sparking, glaring, trying to make

me see just how much he hates that I’m working at the club.

He’s right. I know it. Won’t stop me from showing up for my next

shift, though.

Zeke gives my hand a gentle squeeze and then leaves me there,

sitting on my stool, while he wades in, tugging men apart. He’s not

violent, not looking to hurt people, just easing the tension and getting

the idiots away from each other.

The man’s a contrast. Angry and sweet, all within a second.

His back’s turned, attention on the shouts and fists flying, so I hop

from the stool, head toward the side door and to the sanctuary of the

dressing room. It’s empty, Marcus’ stuff gone and I shake my head.

There were a lot of things he could have done that wouldn’t have

ended up with Luca’s place being destroyed by angry drunks.

I grab my bag, slip the strap over my head and tromp to the back

door, into the night.

The darkness envelopes me and I let thoughts of the gentle giant,

the man who could crush me without a thought, drift from my mind.

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I can’t afford not to.

I’d never told Zeke that I lived near Crestview, too. That I’m

within walking distance of Gianni’s.

The trek is quick, a few blocks at most and I’m walking through

the door, enveloped in a big hug by Luca. He’s my boss, sure. But

that’s at the club. Here, in the outside world, he’s a friend and

sometimes play-partner.

“I hear you invited our friend.”

I roll my eyes. “No, I invited
your
friend, dork.”

He straightens, glaring at me. “That’s
Master
Dork to you,

puppy.” He swats me on the ass. I squeak and shuffle ahead of him

toward the back room. The dining room’s gotten enough of a show.

I try to keep my composure as I navigate through the tables. I

know Luca’s following close on my heels and he’s sure to tease me a

little more when we get behind closed doors. My only hope is to hide

behind someone bigger.

Preferably, Zeke.

That thought nearly brings me to a standstill. I fiddle with the

knob on the door, pretending that my halt is due to trouble with the

handle and not with the fact that I’m a little more than attracted to the

man. And scared shitless.

I finally manage to get the door open and Luca leans over me,

grabs the edge and holds it open. A gentleman through and through.

Unless he’s pulling my hair and making me beg.

But that’s not today.

I slip in and step to the side. Just ‘cause I go in first doesn’t mean I

want to
be
first. I wait for Luca and slip my hand into his. Except the

thick calluses aren’t familiar and I glance up to see who I’m touching,

only for my gaze to settle on Zeke’s smirk.

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I try to tug free, but he doesn’t let me. “Hey, Tevin.”

Through the doorway I can see Luca hanging back, an equally

cocky smirk in place.

“Zeke?” He’s the one holding me captive. And I can’t figure out

how I feel about that fact.

He leans down, whispering in my ear. “I thought you could

introduce me around, little one.”

Hot. Damn. That’s so close to my hot button endearment that I

shiver.

“Um,” I swallow past the lump in my throat, will that zing of