Chapter One
“Stop mooning over him, Austin. He’s taken.”
I gave my boss Tyler one last look from beneath the dark curls hanging in my eyes and let out a sigh as melancholy as I felt. “Don’t I know it. Look at them. The perfect couple. And Marcus never takes his eyes off Ty. I wouldn’t either if he were my man.”
Frankie Marone, the other dance instructor and my best friend, poked me in the side. “And you know Marcus hates it when you drool over Ty. You told me that yourself. So let’s finish up here and get over to the club.” Frankie’s brown eyes sparkled. “It’s margarita night, and you know that means big tips for us. Especially you, when your Mr. Tall, Dark, and Doesn’t Ever Speak shows up.”
We gathered our bags and went to change in the locker room Tyler had built in the back of the dance studio. I ran a critical eye over myself in the mirror, poofed out my curls a bit, then slicked on a little lip gloss. “Do you think I need eyeliner?”
“Girl, you know that man likes you done up. Here, take mine.” Frankie handed me his eyeliner, and I used it around the corners of my eyes, giving them a cat’s-eye tilt at the edge. “Didn’t he send you some sexy things to wear after the last time you danced for him?”
Heat crept up my face at the memory of the silky jockstrap and scented oils the mysterious stranger had sent me backstage at Man Up, the club where Frankie and I usually danced most nights. It wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life, but the money was great, and I did what I could to get by.
I gave Frankie back the eyeliner. “Here. And yeah, I dunno. He probably won’t show.”
“But you’re wearing it just in case he does, right?”
I bit my lip and nodded, then pulled down my leggings to reveal a peek of red silky material lined with crystals.
“Jesus, that’s hot. And expensive, I bet.”
“I know.” After the package had arrived, I looked up the jock online and found it at a boutique in Chelsea specializing in high-end menswear. “It’s a hundred bucks.”
“Holy shit.” Frankie’s jaw dropped. “He wants you.”
It had turned chilly outside, and I tugged on my fur-topped boots. “I don’t mind a little snuggle here and there, and I’m not against saying a special thank-you with a kiss, but there’s a limit. You know what I mean.”
Frankie zipped up his jacket and pulled his furry hood over his head. “If he wants to be your sugar daddy, you tell him yes. Get yourself set up good with a nice place and a bank account. I would. You don’t need to keep shaking your ass for those guys always grabbing your junk.”
“I’m not a whore, Frankie. I’m not selling myself. Right now, I love dancing and teaching the kids, but I have plans. And maybe someday, in the future, a real boyfriend.”
“And you’re a great dancer. The kids love you.” Frankie shrugged as we walked back into the studio in time to see Marcus kissing Tyler with a passion I’d never experienced. It made my heart and my dick throb. “And as for boyfriends, they’re nothing but trouble.”
I linked my arm through his, giving him a supportive hug. “That’s ’cause you ended up with the wrong one.” I tipped my chin toward Marcus and Tyler. “Look at them. I want what they have. I want someone to look at me the way Marcus looks at Ty. Hungry. Like a wolf.”
As if he’d heard me, Marcus caught my eye and winked. “How’s it shaking, guys? Heading out to the clubs later?”
“Yeah.” I pulled Frankie along with me, anxious to get away. “Gotta run. We’re meeting friends for dinner.”
We stumbled out of the dance studio, and Frankie hissed at me. “Why don’t you tell him we dance? Maybe he’ll offer us a job at Sparks. I’m dying to dance at his place. They get celebrities, and the paparazzi are always there.”
I shook my head but didn’t answer as we hurried toward the uptown subway station, skirting around early evening couples strolling arm in arm. Jealousy pricked me as I watched a man give his girlfriend a rose he purchased from a street vendor. I wanted the love of someone who cared about who I was, not the fact that I could shake my ass better than the next guy. But I made my choice, and I was proud of standing up for myself.
We ran down the steps to the station, and I was thankful my dance training gave me stability and strength to not fall on my face in my boots. “Got your MetroCard? I figure we could stop at Vinnie’s Pizza before heading to Man Up.”
Frankie held up his card and swiped it at the turnstile before answering. “Yep. Sounds good. Wanna see my new routine? I was watching some YouTube videos of street dancers and picked up some badass moves to use on the pole. Gonna try them tonight.”
Without waiting for my answer, Frankie tossed his jacket at me, turned on some music from his phone, and began a routine that immediately drew the attention of the people waiting for the train. His sinuous body twisted and flowed like a silk scarf, and men, women, and children gathered to watch, entranced by his movements. They began to clap, and several people recorded him on their phones. The rumble of an incoming train drew the commuters’ attention, and he stopped to their applause and whistles.
“Thank you, everyone. If you wanna see me and my friend here do more sexy dancing, come to Man Up on West 52nd tonight.”
I had to laugh as I handed Frankie his jacket. His face shone with the sweat of his exertions, but I knew he loved it. Frankie was pure exhibitionist; if he could run around naked all day, he would.
“Here you go. James should hire you to do publicity for the club as well as dance.”
The train rushed into the station, and we crowded inside. I knew Frankie hated being squashed against people, so I pointed to the corner. “There’s room for you to stand there.”
He gave me a grateful look, and we shouldered our way through, mumbling “excuse me” until we found our spot.
“So whatchu gonna do?” Frankie nudged me.
“About what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you’re dense. About Sugar Daddy. You gonna let him sample the merchandise if he wants?”
I thought about the man who’d bought me the jock, and my dick swelled a bit, nestled in that sexy, silky material. Almost every night I fell asleep to the vision of his penetrating gaze. It haunted me with its desire and made me ache with a longing almost frightening in its intensity.
“Stop it. I don’t know. He probably won’t even be there tonight.”
“He’s there every night you dance. He’ll be there.”
I didn’t trust my voice to answer Frankie, so I remained silent. Wise to my moody-ass behavior, Frankie didn’t push me any further the rest of the ride downtown and changed the subject to our students. Both of us loved teaching little kids, and Frankie especially was a favorite with the moms. He loved giving them fashion and exercise tips and even marriage advice that for whatever reason, they gobbled up. At the holidays he was inundated with presents, from clothing to gift cards, yet I knew he wasn’t happy. Problem was, I didn’t know what did make him happy anymore.
By the time we reached our stop and exited the train, I vowed to enjoy the night and not make it about me and my stupid crush on Tyler or the mysterious, hot-eyed stranger.
“Wanna go to the movies tomorrow? My treat.” We trudged up the stairs and walked down the block. This part of the city was as crowded at night as the Upper West Side, which made for good foot traffic into the club. Frankie and I had discovered Vinnie’s, a little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint with 99 cent slices, and we’d been coming for months now. “My classes end at one, so I’m free after that. What about you? We could hit up Battery Park City, or head over to Brooklyn.”
All I got for a response was a “Maybe. We’ll see.” I let it ride and pushed open the door to the smell of tomato sauce and the sound of salsa music.
“Hey, guys.” Luis greeted us from behind the counter. “The usual?”
“Make mine with pepperoni.” Frankie winked, and I breathed a sigh of relief that whatever funk he’d gotten into had vanished.
“I’m good with two regular. And a bottle of water.”
We waited by the counter and picked up our slices when they were ready. “There’s a table in the back. I’ll grab it.” Frankie sprinted ahead while I balanced my two slices on their paper plates and the big bottle of water.
Crispy and hot, the pizza steamed in my face. I blew on the first one before taking a large bite, suddenly remembering I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, except a birthday cupcake one of the mothers had brought in for her daughter.
“God, nothing’s better than pizza.”
“Mmm. I know.” Frankie and I chowed down, and it took less than five minutes for us to devour our pizza. I could’ve used another one but didn’t want to feel all bloated when I danced.
“Can I ask you something?” Unusually serious, Frankie pushed back his chair and scrutinized me. I gave a nervous laugh.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“We’ve been friends a while, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get it. Why do you do it? Like, if I had the money your old man has, I’d be living the life, not renting a grungy apartment in the middle of Brooklyn and dancing for sweaty guys pawing all over me.”
It was hard for anyone to understand if they didn’t live in my shoes. But when those shoes and everything else in your life was dictated by a father who was disgusted by your very existence, the choice was easy: it was no choice at all.
“I told you. He doesn’t approve of me. Any part of me. The gay me, the dancer me. Any of it. So I said, ‘fuck you,’ and left. I can make it on my own. And if I can’t and I fail, at least I did it on my terms. I’d rather fail as me than succeed being who he wants me to be. His puppet.”
“That’s some heavy shit, man. But you’re doing it.”
“Yeah. My jobs make me enough for my rent, and I don’t need much else. One of these auditions I’m going to has to pan out for me. And if they don’t, it’s okay ’cause I have other things I want to do. I’m going to make it.”
“I know it’ll happen for you.” Frankie was my staunchest ally and greatest help. Always fashion plates, we’d spend our free time on the weekends scouring the thrift shops for stuff to wear and for Frankie to use for his designs. “My mother lit a candle for you in church last Sunday that you get that part of the prince in Rapunzel, once Tyler finishes his run.”
I hoped so too, and Ty had said he put in a good word for me with the producer’s wife, but it all came down to whether they’d like me.
“Thanks. Tell your mom I appreciate the meals she sends me too.”
Frankie’s big Italian family surprised him when they accepted his sexuality with no problem and embraced his flamboyant lifestyle and me as his best friend. That included Sunday get-togethers for dinner in Howard Beach and occasional care packages of home-cooked meals from Frankie’s mother, Jeannie.
“She loves doing it. And Suzanne expects you to teach her that dance routine you told her about last week.”
“I will. She’s a real cutie-pie.” Frankie’s seven-year-old niece never left my lap after I told his family I auditioned for the part of a prince. At least someone looked up to me.
For the next hour we hung out at the pizza place, finishing our waters and watching the ball game. With Man Up not opening until ten o’clock, we had plenty of time and left to do our usual thing of sitting in the nearest Barnes and Noble café, drinking enough coffee to keep us buzzing the rest of the night.
With each passing minute, my trepidation grew. Sure, it was fun to dance and flirt with the guys—as long as they remained anonymous. Even the ones who paid for special time with me in the private rooms never told me their names. I gave them a sexy lap dance, but that was as far as it went, even though they teased me, telling me the other dancers gave them more.
I’d pushed away more than one hand delving inside my skintight booty shorts, with a smile and shake of my head. Yet tonight…I might not be able to say no to my handsome stranger. I might not want to.
“Time to go.”
Frankie tossed his cup away and picked up his duffel bag. I followed behind him, mulling over what I might do if the sexy stranger made his moves. My mind was a jumbled mess when we arrived at the club. Eager to get in out of the cold, I pushed open the door, greeting James, the owner, who sat at a little round table in an almost-hidden alcove.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
James gave us a nod and a brief smile. “I’ll let you know tonight after I see the numbers.”
Always impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, James possessed that patrician look I recognized from the people at my father’s law firm. I wondered what a man as elegant as him did running a place like this.
With his cocky, trademark smile, Frankie answered, “Well, we’ll give it everything we’ve got. And I mean everything.” He wiggled his butt down the hallway to the dressing room, and I followed.
“Frankie, Austin, wait.”
We stopped for James to catch up with us.
His somber gaze traveled between Frankie and me. “I don’t ever want you to think you have to do things that make you feel uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, I’m discouraging you from getting too intimate with customers.”
“Damn, James. There you go ruining all my fun.” Frankie wiggled his butt down the hallway, leaving me behind.
“You understand what I mean, right? It’s for your own good. You shouldn’t ever feel pressured to do something you don’t want. That’s not what you’re here for. You’re paid to dance.”
“Yeah, thanks. I don’t, and I’ll make sure Frankie listens. Sometimes he can be a bit impetuous, and it gets him into trouble.”
Impetuous might be an understatement. Frankie was as wild as the sea and open as the sky.
A flicker of a smile softened James’s stern mouth. “Good. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you later. Gotta go get ready.” I hurried after Frankie and entered the dressing room to a cacophony of chatter. There were six of us dancers. Some dressed in costume, like Cort in his cowboy chaps and lasso, and Tristan in his black Zorro cape and mask, while Frankie, Morgan, Sonny, and I put on jocks and skimpy shorts and did our thing. James didn’t tell us what to do or how to do it, as long as the place was crowded and people bought drinks and paid for private rooms. We got a forty-percent cut of the payment, including any alcohol the guys ordered, so we always said yes whenever the men offered us drinks, whether we wanted them or not.
“Hey, what’s got you in a funk?” Cort, the big blond cowboy, elbowed me. His bulging muscles and smooth, oiled chest shone under the dressing room lights. The guy was a huge hit, especially when he’d rope a favored patron and pull him up onstage for some one-on-one action. The bills went flying every time.
“Nothing. I’m good.”
Frankie piped up as he oiled his chest. “Girlfriend’s lying. He’s thinking about his Tall, Dark, and Handsome showing up and if that means he’s gonna haveta put out.”
“What? Someone’s forcing you to have sex?” Cort turned worried eyes on me. For all that he was a stripper, Cort was pretty quiet and sheltered, and I knew from our talks he’d never had a boyfriend before. I felt kind of protective of him in the big bad city.
“No.” I glared at Frankie, who made a moue and went back to smearing his torso with glittery oil. “No one’s forcing me to do anything. It’s just—”
“It’s just that he’s got this rich, handsome dude sending him gifts, and he knows that shit don’t come free.”
“I don’t mind giving the guy extra attention, but I don’t want him to think that gives him access to my body.”
“Of course not.” Cort folded his strong arms and set his jaw. “If I see anyone giving you trouble, I’ll be there for you.”
Who needs a real family when I have these men at my side?
“Thanks.” I kissed his scruffy cheek. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
Cort had moved to the city after he’d come out to his family and they thought he could use a little time away from their Texas ranch. He confided in me that he loved New York but was afraid to go out by himself, so he spent most of his time eating takeout, watching porn and doing private webcam work, none of which he could do in his small Texas town. I’d promised him that when the weather got warmer I’d give him a real tour of the city.
The sound of the bass started thumping, which was our signal that customers had entered the club and it was time to mingle. I gave a final tweak to my curls and adjusted the silver boy shorts so the edge of my jockstrap showed.
“Showtime.”
Tristan led the way, his silky cape flowing behind him. He’d created a great act, I mused. With his flowing black hair and six-foot-five lean frame, he commanded attention and received it.
At least ten men stood drinking at the bar, and twice that number had taken seats at the tables encircling the dance floor. The neon lights played over the stage, and my heart banged. I hesitated for a moment, glancing around, getting my bearings, but really it was to see if my guy was there. A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded me when I scanned the faces and didn’t recognize his among the increasing number of men walking into the club. Frankie grabbed my hand and pulled me up onstage.
“See?” I said, and we began to dance, our arms around each other’s waists. “He’s not here.”
Frankie gave me a mysterious smile and pulled me close. I smelled the fruity scent of his oil and his minty breath. “Oh yeah? Look closer. He just came in.”
We swayed a second; then Frankie maneuvered me so I could peer over his shoulder, and there he stood, in the entrance to the room. Tall, muscled, and impossibly handsome. A wave of nerves fluttered up from my stomach, and my cock hardened.
“Okay, I’m leaving so he don’t think that hard-on in your shorts is for me.” Frankie picked up the beat and danced away toward a crowd of suits, leaving me standing alone, panicked and aching in the spotlight.