Glancing over at the mirror that lined the back bar, he stared at his reflection. Little of his appearance had changed in the last eight years. A little graying around the temples and a few more lines feathered at the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. Other than that, he felt he hadn't changed at all. Preston still had men falling all over him left and right. So what if he owned this place, money never hurt anyone. If it gave him leverage over another, so be it. Being in charge turned him on almost as much as sex did.
The blinding light of the brilliant morning temporarily blinded him, as it spilled through the opened doorway. Preston shielded his eyes with a cupped hand and squinted into the glaring luminosity. In stepped a man that could only be described as 'too hot to handle.' The man's large frame blocked the incoming rays and the door swung shut behind him with a swooshing sound that pierced the quiet of The Stud Farm.
He had a predatory gait that made his hips sway in sensuous rolls and the type of body language that was very commanding. He wore it as if he was naturally born with it. A large parcel in the front was impressive, too. He filled out his clothing like a glove on a hand—tight and sinfully revealing.
Preston could tell by looking at him, even though he just laid eyes on him, that he had a winning quality. The most beautiful head of long, blond hair hung around his massive, defined chest and down his back, swinging with each step he took. It looked like golden rays with different intensities of blond blending throughout. This rich fullness had Preston imagining it sliding like a curtain of finely spun silk down his torso and further south, between his legs in torturing movements in an unhurried dance of sexual seduction.
The stranger carried a black duffle bag, which he was sure had something to do with stripping. Who carried around a large duffle with them for shits and giggles? Along with the fact it was too early for any of the regulars to come in, much less this total stranger.
It had been a long time since a man had fired up his blood to the point of feeling as if he would be consumed if he didn't find out this God-like man's name.
He stood up to be on even footing and waited for the hunk to approach him. As he drew nearer, Preston could see the color of his eyes, leafy green with flecks of gold sprinkled in the irises, enhanced by a cat shaped slant. Angled features gave him a slightly harsh appearance, which was only improved by a pair of the most luscious lips and a sexy cleft chin. He was the subsequence of exotic personified if Preston had ever seen one.
This stranger was a walking advertisement for 'Big, bad and sexy as hell' kind of guy. Preston had not come across too many whose body language did all the talking without him having to say a word, saying I'm hot and I know it, now worship me. Preston bet, being that handsome, he'd had to either have a voice like a girl or was deformed without it being visible to the naked eye.
When the newcomer was a foot away from him, he put out his hand and introduced himself. "Hello, can I help you? I am the owner of this establishment." Preston shook the stranger's hand with masculine grace. "My name is Preston Hayman, what is yours?"
The stranger replied, "My name is Dale…Dale King. It is a pleasure to meet you." Dale's handshake was firm, but not too strong. It caused a tingle to start in Preston's balls and his flaccid cock to rise to attention with just a handshake. His rich, gravelly tenor voice licked at Preston's skin.
With the handshake over, he asked, "What brings you to The Stud Farm, Dale?"
Dale smiled and he took his sexy persona all the way up to off the charts fucking out-of-this-world hot! * * * *
Sunlight poured through the door, giving Dale a clear picture of the inside of the club before letting the door close behind him. It seemed the same. Straight in front of him were wooden tables and chairs in groups. To his left was the large stage the men stripped on, with two firemen poles placed almost center stage for the men to bump and grind, displaying their talent and wares nightly. Red velvet curtains hung as a backdrop to the stage. Behind the curtains were the strippers' dressing rooms. Inset lights lined the half circle shaped perimeter of the stage, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. A small ledge for drinks and chairs surrounded the stage giving the men an unhindered view of the dancers.
To his immediate right, the bar ran most of the length of the wall. Just past that was a long hallway with four rooms for lap dances and on the other side were the restrooms. At the end of the hall was Preston's private office. Standing in the middle of all this maledom was Preston Hayman, looking older, but still cocky as he appraised Dale from the tip of his head to the toe of his shitkickers.
Dale could see the look of lust and desire gleaming in Preston's eyes. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared like he was trying to draw in the very essence of him into his body. He purred when he told Preston why he was here. "I would like to apply for a job as one of your strippers." He looked him straight in the eyes, never wavering for one minute.
Preston's body language was blaring his sexual interest. One hand rubbed up and down his pants leg, while the other was deep in his pants pocket as if trying to reassure his cock that a sexual dessert waited for it. He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could already taste Dale. Sucking in his gut and pulling his shoulders back screamed, I want you so bad. This was going to be good.
Time to play nice and start the ball of revenge rolling. "Would you like me to dance for you? Show you what I can do up on that stage, each and every night?"
He had been so occupied checking out Dale, he'd missed what he said. "I am sorry, what did you say?" Dale repeated what he'd said about auditioning for him. "I am not sure I need another dancer, but I am willing to give you a go." Preston had slipped on his professional persona, but Dale could see past the thin veneer. He wanted to play hard to get, fine. Dale would blow him away with the routine he'd been practicing for the last three months. "Can I change in the restroom?" Dale asked. It seemed Preston was having a hell of a time keeping his mind on business and not on his crotch. Same old Preston, some things never change. Cock and making money were the only things that meant anything to him.
Preston pointed the way to the bathrooms. "Down the hall, on the right hand side."
"Thanks." He gave him a million dollar smile, sexy and sly as he passed Preston, letting his body brush up against the older man's. Dale already knew the layout, yet he was acting as if this was his first time to The Stud Farm. With a strut that showed off his powerful legs and fine ass he made his way toward the restroom. He could sense Preston's eyes devouring his backside. Looking back over his shoulder as he entered, sure enough, open sexual hungry and a piercing stare let him know Preston was indeed very interested in him. Good!
Once inside the restroom, Dale quickly set down his duffle bag and pulled out the outfit he'd had specially made for his act. Figuring the best costume would be one he was very familiar with: a hunky construction worker.
Stripping down to his socks and g-string, he quickly started to redress in his dance costume. He slipped on a pair of well-worn jeans that came apart at the seams, courtesy of Velcro that ran down each side of his muscled thighs and between his legs, creating two pieces once he pulled them apart and off. Next, he put on old scuffed leather construction boots that laced past his ankles. The last article of clothing was a paper thin white t-shirt and he rolled the short sleeves to expose his luscious bulging biceps. Finishing touches were a tool belt with plastic tools in case it got thrown into the crowd, a hardhat, thick leather work gloves and a pair of Black Fly sunglasses that wrapped around his head.
With his other clothes folded and put in the duffle bag, he took a few moments to gather himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He hardly remembered the scared young man that had been inside the four walls of The Stud Farm years ago. The big strapping man with long hair and hidden eyes was who he was today. A man that knew who he was and what it took to get the job done. Hard work and some good relationships along the way had helped give him a good base to build from. The time had come to turn up the he
at and turn on the charm and use everything he'd learned over the last year in his dance classes.
Picking up the duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Dale strolled out of the men's bathroom and back out to face Preston, the man on whom he'd come to seek his revenge.
Chapter Three
Preston didn't have to even look up to know that Dale had come back into the room, sensing his sexual charisma like a siren's song. He was magnificent, with his prowling walk and tall stature, emanating energy and vitality. Walking straight up to him, Dale handed him a CD with his dance music on it. "I hope you have a CD player," Dale joked.
Preston could not see his eyes behind his sunglasses, so it was hard to read what he was thinking. "Sure do. Just step behind the red velvet curtains and when you hear your music start, show me what you've got." He is walking eye candy, and that is one piece I cannot wait to suck on, Preston's devilish thought bought a sexy smile to his face.
"I am sure you will like what I've got," Dale said, flipping his hair back off his shoulders and licking his lips. "I have never disappointed anyone before and I don't plan to now."
He already liked what Dale had and after that heady hint of a come on, Preston planned on sampling him soon. His body was a mass of sexual sensations. The low growlingtone of Dale's voice caused his cock to flare and harden even more. His balls ached to the point his stomach was knotted up. Oh…yeah, he wanted Dale. He was like sex on a stick. Preston sure hoped he was half as decent a dancer as he was amazing to look at. If his body movements and animalistic presence were any indication, he should be one hell of a dancer.
Shaking himself out of his sexual fascination with Dale, he made his way to the sound area set up near the stage and the CD player. It took only a moment to load and then the music filled the room and the curtains whipped open and out came Dale.
The music was Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode. Dale strutted on stage, walking in a loose-hipped fashion to the beat of the music. Stopping behind one of the shiny silver poles, he spread his legs, and grabbed it with both hands, slowly dropping down and coming back up quickly as if humping the pole. His leg muscles popped and bulged with each up thrust. Letting go and wrapping a leg at the knee around the pole, he spun around a couple of times, twisting and turning in quick succession. Letting go, he spun one last time until he ended up with the pole to his back. Grasping it over his head, he slowly lowered himself into the splits.
Once down on the floor, Dale rolled forward over his extended legs out on either side of him, which had him now lying on his belly, flat to the floor. Rolling over onto his back, he did a backwards tumble and righted himself. He was standing with his back to the crowd, if there had been one. Turning just his upper torso, he looked back over his shoulder, slowly pulling off his construction hat and then his sunglasses. Widening his stance, he leaned forward in an exaggerated fashion, with his ass in the air, placing his hat and sunglasses on the stage. His long hair drifted on the ground like a sinful curtain of sunshine. Then, he flung his body up, flipping his mane of hair, spinning around facing toward the front of the stage. Grapping the front of his t-shirt, he violently ripped it off his body, growling in wild tones, until it hung in tatters down his body. The whole time, he kept his hips thrusting and gyrating to the beat of the music.
"Holy Mother of God." Preston had never seen a man move with such natural animal grace. Dale was mesmerizing to watch as his body movements translated into a primal dance of pure sex, looking as if he was making love to a phantom lover up on stage. He couldn't take his eyes off of Dale as he glided along the stage, his rhythm in perfect time to the music. It was as if the he was one with the music.
As the tempo picked up, Dale's movements became more hedonistic and graphic. Muscles twisted and bunched with each step. Controlling his large frame effortlessly, sensually, his luscious hair twirled in time to his movements. Preston could see that he was getting off up there on the stage by the large erection tenting the front of his jeans. But then, Preston also had had a hard-on from the moment he'd shook hands with Dale.
In a flurry of steps, rolling hips and spins, Dale reached down, grasping the sides of his jeans. He ripped them off, strutting and thrusting wearing only his G-string and work boots. He turned with his bare ass to Preston and shimmied, as the muscles from his broad shoulders to his calves, tightened and released in rapid succession. The way he controlled his muscles and body caused the breath in Preston's lungs to seize. Dale started running his hands all over his body as he made his way around the stage. Preston felt like fanning his face; the man was that fucking hot to watch. Animalistic and golden male beauty wrapped up in muscle and sex appeal like nothing he'd seen before. Dale was a moneymaker and he had to have him in his show.
By the time Preston had gotten his breathing back under control, Dale was just about at the end of his routine. His flesh was covered in a thin layer of sweat, giving his skin a shiny glow. Facing front, Dale whisked off his G-string, exposing the biggest fucking cock Preston had seen in a very long time. "Oh…my…God. I have died and gone to heaven. He's built like a brick shit house." It was all Preston could do not to grab his own erection and jack off.
Dale stroked his cock in smooth beats to the end of the music. His hips swung and swayed as his head flung back and he groaned in explicit arousal. Then he suddenly stopped, looking straight at Preston for a second and smiled with lusty intent, before turning back toward the curtain and exiting the stage.
A deep gulp and a very unmanly sigh slipped from Preston's lips. The overwhelming urge to run after Dale and drop down on his knees was so powerful it scared him. It was as if he'd been given a drug and now he was going through withdrawals. The craving made him shiver down to his toes. Even his hands were shaky as he combed back his hair with his fingers. * * * * Behind the curtain, Dale dressed back into the clothing he'd folded in his duffle bag. He walked back onstage to get his costume and stuffed it in the bag, then walked up to where Preston stood.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins and he felt completely alive. Dancing was heady and it gave him a massive woody. Dale felt like a snake charmer and Preston had been the snake. Using his body to enthrall the man was a walk in the park. He could see the blatant sexual arousal in Preston's eyes and his accelerated breathing. The man had it bad for him. Everything was going according to plan.
Preston took a couple of deep breaths and licked his lips. Dale watched him like a hawk; the old fart was chomping at the bit. This was going to be easier than he'd anticipated.
"You were amazing up there," Preston said. "The job is yours if you are interested and I hope you are." He no longer seemed to have the poise of a businessman. Basic instincts of lust clouded the man's senses. Desperation threaded his words.
For just a moment Dale almost felt guilty, then squelched that impulse quickly, as the image of Preston fucking him bent over his desk clearly came into his mind. There was no time for soft-heartiness of any kind to enter the picture. Hardening his resolve, he reassured Preston he did indeed want the position. He needed to treat this as a business deal and he was going to come out on top--literally. "I would love to work at The Stud Farm. It has been a dream of mine since I was a young man." He lowered his voice to a sensuous level, giving the hint of encouragement to Preston that he was interested in more than working at The Stud Farm. "When can I start?" he asked.
Preston reached over and put his arm around Dale's shoulders in a very friendly manner and spoke close to his face, "Is tomorrow too soon?"
Dale turned his head and almost bumped noses with the guy. "Sure…great!" Then he looked down at the ground in a bashful kind of way, as if making the other man feel as if he was doing Dale a big favor letting him strip at his tacky gay bar…NOT. But he didn't need to know that. The old fag played right into his hand.
Preston had some papers for him to sign, which he did. He used his real name, but everything else was as phony as a three-dollar bill. When he was through with Preston he never wanted to
see or hear from him again. So concealing his personal info was the only way to go.
Chapter Four
After the first night Dale appeared at The Stud Farm, the word got out about the new hot dancer. The next night was the biggest one Preston had had in years. The club was filled to capacity, and there was a long line of randy men wrapped around the building, still waiting to get in. Men were pushing and shoving to get close to the stage just to get a glimpse of the new stripper. They would chant his name, "Dale, Dale, Dale", until he finally came onstage. It was totally outrageous and he loved every single minute of it.
Dale completely overshadowed the other dancers. Preston had never experienced so sudden a popularity of one of his dancers or the frenzy that seemed to overtake the crowd when Dale's name was announced. When his music started, a silence surrounded the stage to the point you could almost hear a pin drop. It was like watching a wet dream come to life as he literally prowled onstage with his hip-slinging stride in his construction worker costume. Big, bad, and completely commanding.
Preston could not help but overhear all the comments the men in the club were making. "What a fucking beefcake." "Well, fuck me backwards with a light pole if that isn't the prettiest
man I have ever seen." "I wouldn't mind wearing that home tonight." "Where in the hell did that stunner fly in from?" One regular queen cried after seeing Dale dance the first night. "Be
still my beating heart. I have found my soulmate." Yeah right, you little fairy, he thought, that is my property, so dream
on.. . Dale smiled as he strutted around stage. His face would transform into every male's fantasy. His smile made the cleft in his chin more pronounced and broadened his rugged features. The way he looked at the men made them feel like he was looking only at them—individually, hungrily with those piercing green cat-like eyes. Dale worked the audience as if he was born to it. His body language was sensual and untamed, the way his long locks of hair swung wildly around his tall muscle-bound frame when he danced and his unusually handsome face captivated and entranced the men. He was pure magic on stage. He was a star.
The Stud Farm Page 2
