by Sara Brookes
Two lengthy couches had been placed perpendicular to the stage, their thinly padded seats and puckered backs clearly not meant for long-term viewing. A large u-shaped couch upholstered with deep purple leather was positioned a few steps away in a roped-off area clearly meant for VIPs. He thought Enver would lead him there, given the way he’d barged right in with barely a glance to the line, but instead, Enver handed him a martini glass and led him to a semi-circular shaped booth off to the side. Marcus had a few more minutes to take in the twin fairy-light disco balls hanging from the ceiling, the herringbone pattern of rectangular tiles in various shades of purple on the walls and the contrasting utilitarian gray concrete floor. Somehow, the club managed to be outrageous and functional at the same time.
“Show’s starting back up,” Enver murmured as he tapped him on the shoulder.
Marcus turned to face the stage just as the master of ceremonies stepped out with a flourish, tilting his top hat toward the crowd. His outfit was better suited for some macabre three-ring circus, but it somehow worked for the club. “Put your overpriced, over-polished manicures together for our headliner tonight, Ms. Kiki Fontana!”
A tall performer in a neon green skin-tight bodysuit walked onto the stage as the crowd erupted into loud cheers. She played it up for the audience, flipping her long cascade of auburn hair over one shoulder, clearly at ease with being the center of attention, as a song started. The singer’s husky voice filled the club, the lyrics immediately telling the story about being a bad, bad girl because she’d been careless with a delicate man.
As she angled her hip out, she held the exaggerated pose while a length of rope descended from the overhead. It coiled on the stage, the vibrant pink color offsetting the glittering white crystals of the stage’s backdrop and the performer’s bright green outfit. The audience’s clapping died off as Kiki crouched to skim her fingers against the rope. When she wrapped her hand around it as though measuring the diameter, she gave the crowd a sly, sexy smile. She dropped to her knees, crouched over the rope and pantomimed licking it. The noise level of the room suddenly became deafening, drowning out the song.
She stood, wrapping a section of the rope around her forearm and calf to support her weight, and the rig lifted her into the air as the noise level returned to normal. The reason Enver had a connection to the club, and Kiki in particular, finally clicked.
“You made that, didn’t you?”
Enver smiled, then set his finger to his lips before pointing to the stage. “Relax and watch the show.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Marcus was swept away by the sensual display of athleticism as Kiki wound the rope around her body, posing in different configurations that displayed her body perfectly. The performance was as mesmerizing as it was incredible, further reinforced by the knowledge Enver had had a hand in the safety of the performance.
He’d never seen anything like it. Kiki was a natural performer, expertly balancing sultry with innocence. At one point, she drew the rope between her legs, gripping it like a penis as she set her hand over her open mouth as though in shock.
The show ended a few minutes later. Marcus joined the rest of the crowd, clapping as she held her arms up and curtsied while the curtain dropped. He turned back to Enver. “That was fucking amazing.”
“She gives a good show.”
Marcus finished off the last of his drink, which was now warm thanks to his full attention being on the stage. The lights came up to full and the patrons were still talking about Kiki and her performance. It definitely had been the kind of performance that would draw in curious onlookers and regulars alike.
“Ever think to talk to Kochran to bring something like this to the club? The members would eat it up. I realize the club relies heavily on an online presence, but he could treat it just like a live scene that gets uploaded. Like some kind of theme night.” When Enver stared at him without saying a word, Marcus’s cheeks heated. “Sorry. Just a suggestion.”
“You’ve got good business sense, Marcus. Stop doubting yourself so much.” Enver leaned forward, setting a bag on the table. “New rig. She likes to replace the mechanics every few months to keep everything in working order. I take the old ones, re-machine any parts, if necessary, to fix any surface damage, or replace them entirely for when she’s ready for a new set.”
“So our visit isn’t entirely for pleasure.” Marcus’s sprits waned.
“Done right, business is pleasure.” Enver signaled a wandering waiter and ordered a glass of water for himself and another round for Marcus. “You looked like you needed a friend tonight, Marcus. I would have brought you here regardless.”
Applause erupted from one corner of the club, drowning out anything else Enver had been about to say. Marcus glanced over his shoulder. Kiki Fontana was weaving her way through the crowd, pausing every once in a while to accept a hug or brush a kiss against an audience member’s cheek. She was very much at home and very much in her element as she accepted the accolades.
Her gaze landed on their table, and she immediately detoured to them. The few minutes it took for her to wade through the crowd gave Marcus a chance to notice she’d exchanged the formfitting bodysuit for a sheer black and nude dress embellished with glittering stones that caught in the club’s lighting. The see-through skirt swept the floor as she approached, drifting with her movements to give the appearance she was gliding toward them.
As she drew closer, Marcus spotted the ultra-short nude miniskirt beneath that exposed the long line of her legs. Though her hair was still the same auburn as during her performance, the style was slicked away from her face to play up the severe cut of her nose and jaw. She wore no jewelry, allowing the glitzy dress to speak for itself.
“Well, look at you, Mr. Studmuffin.” She swept in, going right for Enver to embrace him. Enver laughed, returning the big hug with equal enthusiasm. “You’ve been hiding in the not-so-secret workshop of yours too much. But you brought me presents!” She wiggled her hips as she fingered Enver’s bag, the gauzy fabric drifting around her legs as she moved.
“Hot out of the fire, just for you.”
“You are too good to me, Mr. Studmuffin.” She bent over, brushing her lips against Enver’s cheek. “Too, too good.” Emotion rang through her voice, which had dropped a few octaves to give Marcus an idea of how she sounded naturally.
It twisted Marcus’s heart to see such unequivocal acceptance between two friends. He’d only ever had that with one person in his life. Knowing Enver had someone like that in his life as well made him smile. That smile vanished when Kiki turned her attention on him.
“This your latest conquest?” She gestured toward Marcus as she ran her assessing gaze over him. “Go on and stand up for Momma Fontana. Let’s have a look at you.”
Marcus eyed Enver, feeling instantly on the spot as he stayed in his seat. “We’re just coworkers.”
“So what? Just ’cause you work together doesn’t mean you can’t still blow that fabulous dick of his.”
“Still haven’t learned tact, I see,” Enver said dryly.
“Mammie tried to wash the garbage out of my mouth with a bar of Ivory soap when I was five.” She wrapped her hand around Marcus’s elbow and forced him to stand. “Only thing that did was teach me I was born to have large objects in my mouth. Mmm-mmm. Aren’t you cute? Bit young for you, don’t you think, Mr. Studmuffin?”
Enver gave her a half smile. “Great show as always, Kiki.”
She waved to someone a few tables away and held up a finger, indicating she would be there in a moment. “We need to talk. I’ve got an idea for a new show and need your help—as always. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She turned to Marcus, eyed him one more time before she winked. “Watch out for him, cutie. There’s a teddy bear under his gruff exterior.” She flounced off in a blur of sequins.
When he looked back, Enver was smiling. “This better than mo
ping over a parade of beers in a dark bar by yourself?”
“It is. Thanks.” Marcus realized with a start he hadn’t thought about Davis’s text message for the past hour. Hadn’t thought about the emotions tugging on his heart at the reminder his attacker was free on the streets again. Somehow Enver had miraculously made him forget about all the shit that existed in his life and given him a few moments of escapism. He’d intended to take Enver’s mind off things and the tables had turned. “She, ah, likes you.”
“As the man who keeps her safe, yes, she does.” Enver pointed to where Kiki stood with a crowd, occasionally flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Kiki Fontana is a born performer who needs the roar of the crowd to exist.” Enver dug his phone out of his pocket, coded it open and pulled up a video he showed to Marcus.
There was no audience, no bedazzled bodysuit or teased wig on the barren stage. There was only an athletically built man in a pair of form-fitting shorts and a sweat-saturated tee, who listened attentively while Enver explained a rig. “Kai McKinnon is an insecure gay man who used to jump at the sight of his own shadow. Still does from time to time on a bad day.”
“I know him.” Marcus paused, trying to remember where he’d seen him. He wasn’t the greatest when it came to remembering faces, but he’d seen this man’s enough that it stuck out. The alcohol buzzing his system wasn’t helping his mental state. “Vanilla,” he said suddenly. “He works behind the counter at the bakery.” Marcus recalled the polite though shy man who had taken his order. He’d always been courteous and helpful with customers, but Marcus would have never guessed Kiki and Kai were the same person.
He finished off the last of his drink and propped his head up on his hands. Warmth had started to creep into his veins a few minutes ago and a nice fuzz had taken up residence in his brain. The already glittering lights inside the club were starting to draw to long points. “You ever want to get up on the stage and just let it all loose?”
“Think we’ve reached your saturation limit.” Enver stood and offered his hand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Marcus swayed as he stood, grabbing the table for support.
Enver snagged his elbow, pulling him against his body. “Come on, lightweight.”
“I can’t walk. Wait. Can. I can walk.” Marcus giggled as the feathers from a passing performer’s elaborate headpiece tickled his face. “Shiny.”
“C’mon, twinkle toes.”
Marcus allowed Enver to drag him out, the warm buzz causing him to lean against the man. By the time they reached the car, he was nestled against Enver’s firm body and thinking about what he’d like to do if their clothes weren’t creating a barrier between them. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around Enver’s waist.
When Enver reached around him, Marcus turned his head, pressing his mouth against Enver’s. Enver immediately stiffened, jerking back as he blinked at Marcus. The horrified look in his eyes sobered Marcus instantly.
“Sorry. Sorry. I—shit. Alcohol is making me... Forget it. Stupid mistake.” Marcus ducked under Enver’s arm, slid into the passenger seat and reached for the seat belt. He fumbled it a few times, his fingers shaking from the surge of adrenaline.
“Here, let me help.” Enver grabbed his hand, holding it as he secured the belt in place across Marcus’s lap. He shut the door without a word. Marcus kept his head down as Enver walked around the car. How could he have been so damn stupid? So fucking predictable? Couple of drinks in his stomach and he put the moves on someone who was clearly not interested in him.
Too much stress. Too many things on his mind. For a few hours, Enver had taken him out of his head and allowed him to think about something else. Why the hell had he thought Enver would be interested in someone like him? And getting drunk, trying to kiss him... Jesus fucknuts. He was acting like a lust-drunk teenager who thought he had a chance with the teacher.
The thought further sobered Marcus. He noticed Enver had pointed the car toward Ashes Fork. “I’m on Central. Small row of cottages at the end in the cul-de-sac.”
Enver nodded as he entered the main part of town, saying nothing as he followed Marcus’s directions. A few minutes later, they’d pulled up in front of the row of charming houses.
“Shit. My keys are back at Noble House—you know what, never mind. I’ll break a window or something.” He snapped open the belt and stepped out. Before closing the door, he ducked his head, fighting against the wave of nausea that came with the angle. “Thanks for taking me to the club. For...for looking out for me.” He stepped to the curb, shutting the door without waiting for Enver to respond.
The engine roared as the car pulled away, the rectangle taillights of the vintage automobile fading fast in the dimly lit street. Marcus wasn’t surprised. He would have sped away from him as fast as possible as well.
Chapter Eight
Enver leaned against the outside wall of Noble House. He expelled a stream of smoke, and kicked up the collar of his jacket against the unseasonably cool air. Once upon a time, he hadn’t minded standing out in the chill for a few pulls on a cigarette, but after he’d turned forty, the annoyance of the act perturbed him.
Not enough to quit, though.
Headlights splashed on the wall beside him as a car parked in the lot. He only half paid attention to the new arrival until the driver stepped out. A surge of annoyance jabbed at Enver’s gut. His irritation wasn’t with Marcus. He was simply bitter about his reaction.
Three days had passed since Marcus had drunkenly kissed him in the parking lot of Boylesque. Seventy-two excruciating hours Enver had battled his desires for the man. To make the situation more complicated, Marcus appeared to be doing everything and anything he could to avoid Enver. Who could blame him? It wasn’t as though Enver had welcomed the kiss with open arms. Or even explained he wasn’t interested and laughed off the gesture. He’d dropped Marcus off at the curb and vanished without explanation.
Problem was—he was interested.
Dominating a man like Marcus Holly would be fucking fun.
He’d never had a problem expressing his desires about someone before, but Marcus was a different breed. Not because he was a man. Enver wasn’t choosy when it came to the gender of his partner. But because Enver was experiencing thoughts and desires so strong, most of the time he couldn’t think about anything else.
He’d done a bit of his own avoiding because of that.
Hell, he’d tried to do everything he could to forget about the man. But the plan always backfired, his thoughts veering right back to how Marcus’s hands had felt on his body during the initial scan. How right it had been for Marcus to be in the front seat of his car. How damn much he wanted more of those sloppy kisses.
Enver took another drag of his cigarette as Marcus crossed the parking lot. He’d pulled up the collar of his coat as well, fast-walking toward the entrance. Rosen, a well-muscled Spaniard who was the bouncer for the night, waved him in without asking for identification. Sloppy. Kochran wouldn’t like that at all. Hell, Rosen usually made the owners show their credentials on most nights.
Enver pulled the glowing cherry out of the cigarette and stomped on it a few times to extinguish the embers. He pocketed the discarded filter to dispose of later and pulled out a mint from the tin he habitually kept in his pocket.
Rosen blew into his clenched hands as Enver approached. “Chilly night.”
“Gonna be even more so when Kochran finds out you’re potentially opening up the club to non-members. Hell of a lawsuit just waiting to happen.”
Rosen’s shoulders stiffened as his head dropped. “Hands got cold.”
“Know this whole deal with kink really isn’t your thing, Rosen, but at least show some respect for the rules no matter what the fucking temperature is.” Enver shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from slapping the bouncer upside the head. “We’ll keep this between us, but I see it
again, I’ll personally drag your over-muscled ass into the club, tie you up in a rig in Court and make an example out of you. Several times over.”
Rosen muttered his apology, extracting the tablet he should have been using to scan membership identification from his back pocket. Satisfied he’d gotten the message, Enver displayed his own membership card. Rosen snorted, shaking his head as the tablet beeped.
Fired up now, Enver headed straight for the room Marcus had set his equipment up in and found him hunched over the makeshift table. He made himself stop when he noticed the tension gripping those shoulders. As though Marcus would break if touched. Had to be more there than annoyance at his drunken actions, or Enver’s avoidance.
Something else was going on.
The instant Enver set his hand on Marcus’s shoulder, the tension holding those muscles tight snapped. In the space of a few heartbeats, it returned. Marcus shook off Enver’s hand and continued working.
Irritation gnawed at Enver’s gut, raising traces of that same uneasiness he’d been juggling since they’d met. From the start he’d known Marcus had the power to destroy him. Every minute they were together seemed to fortify that summation.
“You got a problem with me, at least have the decency to tell me to fuck off, Marcus. Pretty damn sure you’re familiar with the word.”
Marcus cast him a sidelong glance. “I quit. There are hundreds of other reputable companies you can hire to do this job. Get them.”
Enver stepped closer, blocking Marcus’s path. “You talking about those weaselhead fucknuggets who you said just sell customers a bunch of spare parts?”
Marcus’s eyes flashed. “They’re more experienced than I’ll ever hope to be.” He slammed the lid shut but made no effort to leave. “Their equipment is top of the line too. Better than my cobbled together pieces of useless trash.”
