by Nicky James
“Wake up, sleepy.”
I pushed him away and blinked the sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on his face so close to my own. “Stop! What are you doing?”
He ignored my attempts to hold him back and climbed over me to straddle my hips. Naked, he began to grind his hard length against me. “Please,” he begged bringing his face back to my neck. “You haven’t fucked me in ages.”
I screwed up my face in apathy and sighed deeply. “Ashton, not now.”
“Why,” he breathed against my neck. “You keep telling me no.”
Ungluing him a second time, I squirmed off the bed. “I just don’t want to, okay?”
“Soren!” I slammed the bathroom door, shutting out his whine.
Leaning heavily against it, I scrubbed at my face. The sleep-fog slowly dissipated and my mind came into order.
It was Friday.
Dammit!
The week had flown by. I had no idea what time it was, but I had the feeling I’d slept late, which meant work was creeping up on me. I didn’t know how I was going to get through another weekend. The only solace I had lately was that I only danced at the club Friday and Saturday nights. The rest of the week, I worked at the bar.
It amazed me how two measly nights in seven could feel like they lasted half a life time, and the five days between them passed in the blink of an eye. I shimmied out of my underwear and dropped them on the floor before turning on the shower.
With hot water raining down, nearly scalding my skin and turning it pink, my mind returned to Ash and his attempts to wake me. It had been happening a lot lately. He’d been relentlessly trying to encourage me to be intimate with him.
I knew telling him my issue with sex would come and bite me in the ass. In the end, I’d needed to assure him I was only affected by the ticks at the club—which was a lie. When I’d tried to tell him that sex in its entirety made my skin crawl, his feelings had been hurt, and I’d back pedalled enough to save a long drawn out conversation I didn’t want to have. However, it’d only made him more determined to initiate something between us—so he could be sure it wasn’t him.
Every time, I stopped it.
I couldn’t do it. No matter where I put my mind or how many times I reminded myself it was Ash and not just some random sleazeball I didn’t know, my skin crawled and I’d zone out to save myself. Friday and Saturday nights were difficult enough to get through, I didn’t need more added to it.
Never mind the fact that we should never have been intimate to begin with. I’d told myself Ashton understood the parameters of our friendship, but lately I wasn’t so sure. We were roommates. Best friends. We didn’t date because it was too hard to explain to a significant other about our jobs. But that included not dating each other as well. Which we’d made clear from day one. He said he understood.
I took a long time to wash, wishing I could scrub away the toxic feelings I’d developed so I could get through my weekend. It was to no avail. They remained and had only intensified with Ashton’s actions.
Once I was out of the shower and dried, I regretted not grabbing clothes to dress. I wrapped a towel around my waist and wandered back into the apartment. Ash was sulking as he goofed around on his iPad—a new toy he’d recently saved for and bought.
Not wanting to linger around half-dressed, I found clothes and returned to the bathroom. It also gave me a moment to sort out how to reassure Ash and remove his mood before work.
Friday nights were always busy. The lights shone brighter, the music played louder, and the crowd gathered thicker into every available crevice of open space.
The Escape, Donny’s ever expanding gay nightclub, slash dance club, slash gold mine, was much like one of those pictures that were two different things at the same time. Depending where your eyes focused first would depend on what you saw.
Outwardly, and to anyone new walking in the door, it was a high-end club; clean, spacious, with good music and respectable staff. It was one of the few places in the city where gay men could go Friday and Saturday nights to watch dancers and have drinks with friends.
I was a go-go dancer, not a stripper as my brother had always assumed. There was never a point explaining my job to him, he never understood. Besides, when you refocused your eyes and the other image came into view, what I did was worse than stripping. Way worse.
We arrived earlier than the night crowd. Donny required us to be in the building at eight o’clock on the nose so we could dress and our dancing order could be determined. When we weren’t dancing, we schmoozed customers and aided serving.
The bar dwellers were mostly a younger crowd—between twenty and thirty years old—but then there were the ticks. Ash and I assumed they were men Donny knew on the outside who came for the special privileges behind the scenes. None of the younger men ever saw the backroom. No one saw the backroom unless Donny allowed it.
I was just shy of seventeen when Donny hired me. Too young to serve, but that didn’t stop him from putting me on stage on occasion and, “bending the rules”, as he put it. I didn’t know any different.
My friends and I had snuck in with fake id’s one weekend and spent the night dancing and drinking. Thinking back, I would bet anything Donny had known we were all underage. Especially me. I wasn’t one of those people who looked older than their years. Quite the opposite. But, he’d allowed us to stay and silently observed us all evening.
Once we’d drunk ourselves stupid and were preparing to go, he’d pulled me aside and offered me work. Told me I had good moves and he could use a guy like me.
Well life at home was miserable. School sucked, and I loved dancing. Plus, I wasn’t even seventeen and naïve. I was sure I’d struck it big and would be moving to Vegas or California by the time I was twenty-one.
Without even giving myself time to sober up, I’d made plans to meet with Donny for an “interview”, and he embedded his claws into me from that day on. I’d never forget that day.
When Ash and I entered through a back, employees only door, the steady pulse of the dance music filtered down the hallway. It was early yet and the volume would steadily increase as the night went on and the crowd grew.
As clean and well-maintained as the main areas of the club were, the backstage changerooms were the opposite. Concrete walls, dented lockers, and drafty. Four other dancers were already in the room when we entered. There was a second room down the hall farther and I knew the other six dancers for the evening were probably already gathered and readying themselves for the night as well.
Puck—older than me by two years—had started just a few months before I had. He wore his black hair spiked with enough gel it was rock hard to the touch. The guy could put us all to shame on stage. Over the years, I’d taken so many dancing tips from him I’d lost count. He was my idol and I could only hope to someday be as amazing as him.
Ryan was a little more than a year younger than me, twenty-one, and hired only a month after me before he was even sixteen. Of all of us, he was the most different in body structure. Donny had a specific taste—thin and boyish like Ash and me—but his audience called for variety, and Ryan was one of them. He reminded me somewhat of my brother—thick muscles but with more tattoos. Their hair color was the same light brown, and like Abel, Ryan liked to spike it in the front in a messy, yet ordered way.
Sean hated me with every fiber of his being. He’d been working at The Escape for six years, and in a matter of months I’d dethroned him. He had once been Donny’s blond-haired, blue-eyed gem, but he’d since been replaced and saw less and less attention as the years passed. If I could shift it back to him, I would in a heartbeat. Nothing would please me more.
A.J was the veteran and the glue that held us all together. Despite him cresting on being thirty years old, he didn’t look a day over twenty-two—twenty-three maybe. He colored his hair, bleaching it lighter blond than my own, and kept it cut short and styled perfectly, almost model like. His eyes were emerald green with flecks of brown. He
was taller than me by about four inches but we were built the same. Donny had pulled him in young, really young, and A.J had been dancing and entertaining ever since. To hear him tell it, he was one of the founders of the backroom-escape. Before him, the backroom was simply a backroom without all the new innuendos the word carried.
Mumbled greetings filled the room at our entrance. Everyone was busy dressing for the night. It was a rainbow assortment of tight pleather shorts, ones that covered less than a regular pair of underwear. All of them were flashy and bright, shiny and reflective under the black lights. I owned one of each color. That night I’d chosen purple. Our black boots varied, mine had a chunky heel to give me extra height and they almost all had silver buckles.
I tossed my backpack in my locker and stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt.
“You’re on with me tonight, Sor.” A.J called from the bench in the middle of the room. “D’s mixing things up, wants to try new stuff.”
I nodded as I slipped my underwear off and threw them in my locker.
“Who am I with then?” Ashton asked. Ordinarily Donny paired A.J and him together.
“Me, Tic-Tac, we gonna kill it together.” Ryan took Ash in a headlock, mussed his hair and laughed. He had more then a head of height on Ashton, and the poor guy looked like he was going to break in Ryan’s arms.
“Sweet,” Ash squeaked. Ryan released him and Ash shoved him playfully, laughing. Ryan didn’t even waver. He was a good guy and always ensured people stayed happy and motivated.
I pulled on my shorts and fished a tube of raspberry glittery body lotion out of my backpack as well. Smoothing it over my exposed skin, I watched Ash and Ryan continue to shove each other playfully.
A.J shimmied up beside me and leaned against the lockers. “Take the upstairs with me tonight. Let these crazies work the downstairs.”
“Might as well,” I said tossing the lotion into my bag again.
Since the crowd didn’t generally grow until closer to ten-thirty, our sets didn’t begin until eleven. That didn’t mean we had hours to kill and nothing to do. Quite the opposite.
Until eleven, for me anyhow, it was just another bartending job. We mingled with the crowd, flirted with the customers, and served drinks as required. It was our job to encourage people to spend money. That part, I was good at. If working for Donny was strictly serving drinks and dancing, I’d never complain.
The club was huge. Two spacious levels for customers to enjoy with multiple dance floors and more than enough chairs and tables for the numbers we pulled in every weekend. There were four bars that patrons could access; three on the main level and one upstairs.
Since the upstairs was significantly smaller, we split our group, two of us went above and four of us stayed down. The other group of guys would do the same.
I closed my locker and followed A.J into the main area of the club. As we climbed the open staircase, I scanned the lower area for any familiar faces—ticks who might have decided to come early. There were only a few groups at this hour and they consisted of younger men and not those who Donny gave privileges to. Even though it was way too early to be hopeful, my tensed muscles relaxed some.
Once we hit the second level, I did the same. So far so good. It was a rare Friday or Saturday that none of those men showed up, but it had happened on occasion. Maybe it was too much to hope for, but I wished for it nonetheless.
“You all right?” A.J asked as we crossed the large room to the bar which took up the entire back wall.
“Yeah. Why?”
He quirked a brow as though it should be obvious why he was asking such a question. “You seem edgy.”
I shook my head and picked up my pace. “Nah, I’m good.”
As the night deepened, the crowd grew until I was jumping tables and serving drinks with the precision of someone who’d been at it a long time.
It was busy and a rowdy bunch of college students had migrated to the second level and settled. After my first set dancing with A.J, I’d taken over their table happily. They were fun and flirty. The tips were solid, so I ate it up and gave it right back to them. I’d had my ass squeezed more times than I could count, but they’d quickly taken the hint that lips and tongues were out of bounds.
Dishing out kisses and licking face was Ash’s thing, not mine, and I put my foot down.
That was an intimacy line I wouldn’t allow anyone to cross. Ever. Not with the flirty customers—no matter how attractive—but especially not with the ticks.
With a tray-full of over twenty-four variety test tube shots, I headed to their group once again. Their sobriety was steadily declining, and as it did, their volume increased.
I placed the tray in the center of the table and a few guys busied themselves passing the shots around. They were a colorful mixed variety and a popular selection with the younger men. A dark-haired guy, with intense deep brown eyes, pulled one out of the holder and offered it to me. I winked. “Sorry, sweetheart, maybe later in the night but the boss will skin my ass if I start now.”
The only time we were free to drink on shift was in the backroom. On the floor was never allowed.
A hearty slap on my ass made me jump. “I’d love to skin your ass,” another guy said as he trailed his nose up my neck.
I turned my head, stretching away from him and laughed. “I bet you would, darlin’, Too bad this fine ass has to be on stage in five minutes.” Then I leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “But you can do anything you want to it in your dreams tonight.” Then I waggled my eyebrows and strutted away from the table, swinging my hips and ensuring every eye was focused on the goods. The men whistled and whooped. Before I made it back to the bar, I spun and blew them a kiss which only encouraged them to holler more.
I laughed and dropped my tray on the counter. It was time for A.J and I to head downstairs for our set so I knew there was no point in taking more orders.
A.J joined me a moment later and dropped his empty tray on top of mine. “Ready?”
“Yup.”
Without another word, we headed downstairs. I hadn’t been down since our last set forty-five minutes earlier, and therefore did a cursory scan again, ensuring the ticks hadn’t arrived.
Darting my eyes from one end of the crowded bar to the other, I let my gaze jump from group to group, scanning faces. My entire body stiffened as I set eyes on a group of four men at a table closer to the stage. Donny stood beside them, deep in conversation with the gentlemen.
“Hey, are you coming?” I didn’t even notice I’d stopped walking when I’d spotted the men, until A.J called to me from over twenty feet away. “What are you doing?”
I shifted my gaze to him. He studied me with confusion and I quickly tried to wash away my reaction so he wouldn’t question me further. Except, the minute I forced a smile, A.J’s head flipped to where I’d been staring and he scanned the area. I knew the precise moment he sorted me out. His lips firmed and his gaze slowly returned to mine. We shared a silent moment, where the club music and chatter seemed to scream in my ears before A.J spoke.
“Soren—”
“It’s nothing. Forget it.” I moved around him and continued to the stage, reprimanding myself for showing distress over ticks being present. And to A.J of all people. The guy who’d been there the longest and who Donny entrusted to be our leader.
Once on stage, I refused to make eye contact with A.J, even when I could tell he was trying to draw my attention. I took my place on the right side of the stage, giving him the left. The music began, and I robotically started into my routine.
With my eyes closed, focused solely on what I was doing, I rolled my hips and moved my body in time with the music. Dancing was second nature for me. I never had to think about it. It came naturally, and normally it worked wonders to quell my inner turmoil.
As the beat picked up, so did I. Popping limbs, waving my arms, thrusting and feeding the audience exactly what they loved. I always felt good when I danced, but that night a pit sat
in my stomach and stole my joy. Knowing how my night would end, since those men had made their appearance, stole my concentration and I was stiff and uncoordinated for the first time in my life.
I’d never been more grateful for my set to be over. I was sweating and my heart raced more than its usual rhythm after finishing. I dashed a glance to the table of men. The one man, who I recognized as a regular, watched me and I darted my gaze away just as fast, my stomach flipping over as I did. My gorge rose and I swallowed hard to regain composure. It was working up to be the worse night yet.
With my concentration focused solely on remaining calm, I didn’t realize A.J had stopped walking until I ran smack into him. He faced me and his eyebrows drew together.
Before he could say anything, I spoke first, “I’m gonna take a quick break. Cover for me?”
Not waiting for a response, I turned and beelined it to the changeroom door. I didn’t go in, however, I continued down the long cold hallway and out a backdoor that led into a dark alley behind the club. I stuck a rock in the door, propping it open and sunk down against the brick wall.
The alley was dark and only a dim overhead door light across the way illuminated anything. There were garbage bags lined up outside another door further down, but otherwise the narrow passageway was empty. With my eyes closed, I buried my face in my hands and tried to center myself.
That awful feeling that had taken root a few weeks back was intensifying and becoming worse with every shift I worked. Seeing those men, knowing why they’d come, made my skin crawl, and I couldn’t shake it. The nausea building in my gut climbed up my throat and if I didn’t focus on breathing, I was going to puke.
The door squeaked as it opened, and I jerked my head up to see who was there. A.J reclosed it onto the rock and stared down at me with his hands on his hips. I could only hold his intense gaze for a moment before dropping my head into my lap again.
“I said I need a break. I’m just kinda tired tonight and that set killed me,” I said without looking up.
