Authors: Pender Mackie
Stage Fright (4 page)
They hadn’t worked it out at all. This was the first he’d heard of using water in his routine. “Yeah. It would be cool, but it might be too risky. I might miss the catch, or the customers might get wet,” Jesse ad-libbed.
He did not want to douse himself in water. It was one thing to strip down to the stupid thong, but this took cheesiness to a whole new level.
Chaz was silent, thinking. “Try it tonight. Mike, throw him the water while he’s still on the stage.” He turned back to Jesse. “Don’t use the whole bottle. Just sprinkle it over your head and chest for show. The customers aren’t made of sugar. They’re not gonna melt if they get a little water on ’em. Anyone complains, they can have a free drink at the meet and greet.”
“Okay.” Shit.
“Great. Let Eric know in case he wants to work it into his patter. And don’t forget: any changes in your routine need to be okayed by me, so talk to me first next time.” Chaz slapped Jesse’s shoulder and left.
Jesse shot Mike a dark look. “Thanks a lot. Where the hell did that come from?”
“I saw him heading over here, and that’s the first thing that popped into my head. Sorry.”
Jesse grimaced. “Just don’t keep the bottle in the fridge, or I’ll use the leftovers on you.”
Val shifted to the end of the bar to get a better view. Most of the show was pretty cheesy, but he always watched Jesse. This next part was his favorite.
“And now, here’s our newest member, Firefighter Jesse.”
Val watched as Jesse ran onto the stage and went straight into a handstand. He walked on his hands for a couple of feet before flipping upright and tossing off his firefighter jacket. The audience clapped and cheered, though Val wasn’t sure if they were applauding Jesse’s strength and physical control or the fact that he was starting to take off his clothes.
The stage lights dropped, and the baby spot came on. Jesse slapped on the helmet and did his usual moves, climbing the ladder, undulating against it in time to the music before wrapping his legs around the sides, then sliding back down to the stage. His hair and white tank top gleamed in the spotlight.
In the dark at the back of the room, reasonably sure that no one would turn around to see what the bartender was doing, Val leaned forward, completely focused on Jesse. He’d fantasized about those long legs wrapping around him so many times. He watched as Jesse got rid of the helmet. With his back to the audience, he hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and slipped them off his shoulders, letting his pants sag to reveal the top of his thong—a red one tonight, Val noted—and the swell of his butt cheeks. He let the pants slip lower before hitching them up, only to repeat the move a few more times as he wiggled his rear playfully.
“Is it getting hot in here?” the MC asked. “Should we give the fireman some water?”
This was new. As the women screamed their approval, Val tore his gaze off Jesse and over to the side of the stage where Eric stood with the microphone. Mike stood just a little behind him.
Jesse glanced into the wings and nodded at Mike, who threw something to him. Jesse caught it, and Val stared as Jesse raised a large bottle of water to his mouth to take a drink. He hesitated as if changing his mind, then grinned and dribbled the water over his chest instead. The audience went crazy.
Jesse’s tank top become transparent, and Val bit back a groan. His fingers twitched with the need to touch as Jesse’s nipples pebbled up. Jesse danced around the stage, then pulled the tank off with one hand as he pumped his hips to the song’s beat. He teased the audience—and Val—tilting his head back and trickling water over his face and hair, into his open mouth. He even pulled his firefighter pants away from his body and poured some water over his crotch, or at least pretended to. The women’s shouts and screams were deafening.
Jesse stood grinning. His blond hair was dark with water, and his heaving chest glistened. Val’s pulse thudded in his ears, and his dick throbbed. He dropped a hand to his groin and tried to adjust his erection to a more comfortable position. He always got hard when Jesse performed his solo, but this was almost more than he could take. Jesse half-naked and wet was an image he’d think about tonight when he got home and probably every night after.
Beads of water dripped off the ends of Jesse’s hair and rolled slowly down his smooth, firm chest, over his stomach, and into his pants. Val wanted to chase them with his tongue. He was mesmerized by the way Jesse moved—the controlled strength and grace as he dropped to his knees and leaned back on his elbows, rolling his hips at the audience. Val knew he wasn’t the only one picturing Jesse in his bed. But he was probably the only one fantasizing about Jesse writhing under him. Val tugged his collar away from his overheated skin.
Jesse set the water bottle down and strutted across the stage. He stopped in the middle and swung once around the ladder. As he moved away, his red suspenders got caught. Jesse kept going, his hands on his hips. Val knew Jesse had done that deliberately, and he knew what would happen next, as did the audience. Val held his breath, anticipation and longing in equal measure.
The suspenders reached their maximum length, and the pants came off. Jesse leaped off the stage and up onto a table. He shook his hair wildly, spraying the shrieking women with drops of water. He glanced over to the bar. Their eyes met, and Val couldn’t wrench his gaze away even though he must look like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding vehicle—or like he’d just been smacked in the side of the head with a brick.
The flash on someone’s cell phone camera went off right in Jesse’s face—which wasn’t supposed to happen, as the revue had a no-unauthorized-photos-or-video policy. Jesse’s head jerked away in response. He probably couldn’t see properly. The stage lights must make it hard enough without blinding flashes of cameras. What if Jesse danced right off the edge of his makeshift catwalk?
As the next number started, Val fixed a glass of ice water. He fished out an ice chip and rolled the cool sliver across his nape. None of the other dancers affected him the way Jesse did. He’d been drawn in by Jesse’s charisma the first time he’d seen him onstage, and the attraction was only growing stronger. Val was fascinated by the contrast between Jesse’s provocative stage persona and his offstage friendly enthusiasm. Jesse was a puzzle.
Val had always thought it was cowardly to stay in the closet, but Jesse wasn’t a coward. It took courage to get up onstage and strip down every night. Val sipped his water. All his assumptions were being challenged. At first he’d assumed all the dancers were a bunch of dumb jock players, and some of them were. But Jesse was neither dumb nor a player. Even so, Val had hung back. Jesse was seriously hot, and people who played with fire usually got burned. Since Jesse wasn’t out, Val figured the potential for him to become a charcoal briquette was pretty high.
He sighed. Maybe he should stop fighting the attraction. Either way he was destined to become a human torch, because if he had to watch Jesse do that every night, he was going to spontaneously combust.
Jesse was thrilled when a few nights after his shower debut, Val started asking him personal questions.
“You don’t drink?” Val placed Jesse’s club soda on the counter.
Jesse looked into Val’s eyes. They reminded him of a candy bar he’d loved as a kid. Golden toffee and warm chocolate. “Not when I’ve been dancing.” Too easy to get dehydrated.
“You drink when you have a night off?”
Jesse perked up. He liked Val—a lot—but the bartender could be standoffish and curt. He’d been worried he was just projecting his own interest onto Val. Their flirting was so subtle Jesse might have been imagining it went both ways. He’d learned the hard way that sometimes his natural optimism skewed his perception of reality. This was the first real sign he’d had that his interest was returned, and damn, it felt good.
He answered cautiously just in case this wasn’t leading up to an invitation for dinner and a movie. He didn’t want to assume the wrong thing and get a tonguelashing. At least not the verbal kind.
Jesse blinked. Okay, he wasn’t getting asked out. Disappointed, he spoke without thinking. “Working in a bar must suck sometimes.”
Val held his gaze. “It has its benefits,” he said seriously.
The following day Jesse was alone in the dressing room when Mike pushed something at him. “Here.”
“What’s this?” Jesse took the folded slip of paper.
“It’s from an admirer.”
Jesse groaned. “No, thanks.”
“Read it.”
“Do I have to?”
“Trust me on this one.” Mike had a pleased, almost smug expression.
Mike leaned against the lockers. “After the complaints against Nicki, Val’s under the microscope.”
Jesse’s eyes widened. “You sure?”
Mike gave him a rueful look. “I got called into the admin office today and asked to report back on any ‘unacceptable behavior.’ Chaz was waiting there when I left. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was asked too. He keeps pretty close tabs on his dancers.”
Mike was still speaking. “Anyway. At the rate you two’re going, it’ll be months before you get together, so I offered to play messenger. You should have seen how fast Val started looking for a pen.” He grinned. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I dunno. I think maybe he likes you.”
Jesse pushed the feelings of disquiet aside and looked down at the slip of paper. The normally unflappable Val had rushed to give him his phone number. Jesse’s grin felt wide enough to split his face. “Thanks, Mike.”
Mike straightened and tugged on his ponytail. “Forget it. At least maybe now you can have a private conversation.” He winked. “Hell, why not go for broke and try a date?”
* * * *
Jesse did that night’s show on autopilot. He barely noticed the grinning faces or the grabby hands. He showered and changed in record time and was the first one out of the dressing room. He’d hoped to have a few minutes to speak with Val alone, but a group of women in plastic tiaras and one very drunk woman wearing a wedding veil were already waiting.
Jesse braced himself mentally and went over to chat. He hated dealing with drunks. He waited impatiently for the other dancers to arrive, and while Chaz and his coworkers poured on the charm, he managed to disengage and make his way toward the bar and Val.
Jesse cleared his throat; it felt tight with nervous tension. “I got your phone number.”
Val handed him his glass. “Yeah? You gonna call?” He wiped at a spot on the bar.
Jesse stared. He’d expected a more enthusiastic response, but Val just kept on wiping the counter, and Jesse realized Val might be nervous too. He shifted, using his body to hide Val from the others, and reached out, stilling Val’s hand.
Val started, and his head jerked up. Jesse brushed his fingers over Val’s knuckles. Touching Val’s skin made him feel as if he’d been powered down but now all his senses were back online. He stroked the outside edge of Val’s little finger with his thumb before taking a half step back. “When would be a good time to call?”
“Okay.” Jesse wondered if maybe he could call later, when he got home, but he always left the meet and greet as soon as he could, so he didn’t know what time Val finished. He opened his mouth to ask, but some of the women had wandered over, including the drunken bride-to-be, and Val moved to take their drink orders.
To Jesse’s disgust, the boozy bride tried to flirt with Val. Jesse’s fingers clenched around his glass, and he felt his lip curl. The urge to intervene and stake his claim was strong, but he knew he shouldn’t.
Val deflected the woman’s attempt politely and efficiently, and she tottered away. Jesse supposed he must have had plenty of experience dealing with customers trying to pick him up. As a Vegas bartender, he’d likely been hit on many times. Even Mike had tried his luck, though age differences aside, Jesse couldn’t imagine two people less likely to mesh. Mike wore loose T-shirts and leather vests and rode a vintage motorcycle. Val was always immaculately groomed and probably drove… Jesse wasn’t sure what he’d drive. Did he even own a car?
Jesse tried to imagine the kind of car Val would drive. Something well maintained and perfectly tidy, not a fast-food wrapper or empty coffee cup in sight. His imagination leaped ahead. If they were dating, Val would take him for a ride. They could go out into the desert or see the Grand Canyon. He hadn’t seen that yet, and it wasn’t that far away, easily done as a day trip.
He slipped deeper into the fantasy. They would take pictures of each other with the canyon in the background. Maybe a tourist would offer to take a photo of them together. Val would slide his arm around Jesse’s shoulder and smile. No one but Val would give a damn if he was straight or gay, and for once he wouldn’t hesitate to be who he really was. He’d smile at the camera, unafraid of other people’s reactions. On the drive back Val would keep his hand on Jesse’s knee or maybe the inside of his thigh and—