Stage Fright (9 page)

 

“Hey, Jesse,” Chaz called from across the room.

Jesse glanced up to see Chaz approaching, and his stomach clenched. He wasn’t fooled by the casual tone. The dance captain only singled out individual dancers to give them grief. Jesse didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He hadn’t screwed up a routine, and he was the first one out of the shower tonight and the first one dressed after Chaz, so he wasn’t running late, but he couldn’t think of anything else.

He tried to anticipate and preempt Chaz’s complaint. “I’m ready. I just need to comb my hair. Then I’ll hit the meet and greet.”

“Sure.” Chaz nodded agreeably. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes. By the way, good work tonight.”
Jesse kept his surprise hidden and his response short. “Thanks.”

Chaz draped an arm across his shoulder. “Listen. When you’re out in the audience, don’t run back to the stage like you’re in second place in the Las Vegas Marathon. Give the women time to grab a piece of the action. Yeah?” Chaz moved his arm, and for a split second Jesse had the crazy idea Chaz was about to grab his ass, but the dance captain only gave him a one-armed hug.

Jesse said nothing.
“Maybe sit on a lap or two. Grind a little.” Chaz’s voice dropped as if they were coconspirators. “If it helps, pretend it’s your boyfriend’s lap. Val, right? That’s who you’re seeing, isn’t it?”
Jesse pressed his lips together. He heard the unspoken threat. “Okay, fine.”
“That’s the idea.” Chaz slapped his back and left.

Jesse slammed his locker door, drawing a couple of curious looks from the other dancers.
* * * *

The next night Jesse decided to add Chaz’s suggestions to his routine. He’d wanted to talk to Val about it, but that almost felt like he was asking for permission to do his job or, worse, asking Val to solve his problems.

Maybe Val wouldn’t notice if Jesse mixed it up a little, or if he did, he wouldn’t think anything of it. Most of the guys straddled someone’s lap at least once in the show. It meant nothing.

VAL HATED THIS part. His shoulders tensed as Jesse and the other dancers left the stage at the end of a group number and slipped into the audience. Jesse bestowed a hug here, a grin there. Val understood this was part of Jesse’s job. He did. But did Jesse have to look like he was enjoying it so much?

Val could handle Jesse dancing; he liked to watch, even. It was fine when Jesse was up there, dancing under the lights, but when he left the safety of the stage, he was fair game. Val winced at every slap, every rough grope that sullied that silken, golden skin. When they were alone, he couldn’t help smoothing his palms over Jesse’s body as if trying to erase the unwanted, invasive touches of the audience members who treated his lover like some kind of sex toy.

Jesse chose a young woman sitting at the end of a table. She squealed as he pulled her forward to the edge of her seat and parted her thighs. Val watched, incredulous as Jesse gripped the sides of her chair and dropped his hips, his bare ass undulating as if he were fucking her. The woman put her hand on Jesse’s head and grinned at her friends.

Water oozed up between Val’s knuckles and over the back of his hand as he squeezed the bar rag tightly. Jesse liked to experiment with his act, but this was too much. What the fuck was he thinking? Val swore under his breath. His lover was debasing himself for some silly girl as she laughed at him with her friends.

The woman covered her mouth and giggled. Jesse stood up and hugged her. She hugged him back and swatted his ass as he moved toward the stage. Val stared at her, eyes narrowed, as her friends congratulated her as if she’d done something special. He sincerely hoped she didn’t come to the meet and greet. If he weren’t a professional, he’d be tempted to spit in her drink.

The next time the dancers ventured into the audience, Jesse stopped beside a table of noisy drunks. He sat on a woman’s lap, facing away from her. Val clenched his jaw. The woman wore a skirt, and the flesh of Jesse’s thighs would be touching her skin. Jesse leaned back, his head on her shoulder, and reached for her hands, placing them on his chest. She shrieked as he rubbed them over his nipples before dragging them slowly down his body. Just before the woman’s hands reached the top of his G-string, Jesse jumped up, wagging his finger at her and shaking his head as if she’d tried to grope him. All the women at her table laughed.

Twin flames of jealousy and possessiveness burned within Val, but he knew Jesse wouldn’t appreciate those sentiments. He ground his teeth together. It was just a game Jesse was playing, and the women knew that too, didn’t they? Jesse wasn’t turned on, but he was very good at pretending. He’d looked as if he’d loved that woman touching his body. Did Jesse pretend for him too?

Was he secretly unsatisfied with Val as a lover? Val didn’t like to bottom. He didn’t like giving up control, letting another man inside his body. Jesse had never asked, but did he want that?

Jesse strutted back to the stage and disappeared with the other dancers as the MC announced the nightly contest, asking for volunteers and promising prizes for the participants.

Val wanted to leave the bar, go backstage, and find Jesse, feel Jesse’s cock stiffen in his hand as he kissed him and touched him. He slammed his palm against the side of the ice machine. The two women approaching the bar gave him wary looks.

“The ice is stuck,” Val lied.

He fixed their orders and the drinks of the women who came after them. There was always a bit of a run on the bar while the contest was underway and all the dancers backstage. Val made the drinks for the last two customers and pushed their glasses toward them.

The brunette smiled seductively. “What’s your name?”

Her friend grabbed her arm. “Forget about him. Come on, the strippers will be back out in a minute.”
Val watched them make their way back to their seats. He hadn’t liked Vegas much before he met Jesse, but he liked it even less now.

* * * *

Jesse towel-dried his hair. The night had been crazy. They’d had three bachelorette groups. He suspected most of the audience had been drunk long before they got to the theater. He dreaded the meet and greet—he’d started thinking of it as the meat and greet—and not just because Val might be unhappy with him. It would probably be a gong show.

There were more women than usual willing to pay for a photo with the stillsweating dancers, and each one of those loud, happy, and very inebriated females seemed determined to attend the subsequent get-together. Jesse dawdled in the dressing room until the last possible minute. He stood at the entrance to the bar, and for a few seconds he couldn’t make himself breach the almost physical barrier of cigarette smoke and clashing perfumes. He took a fortifying breath and pushed forward, buffeted by loud, overlapping conversations and laughter.

He put up with the touching and politely ignored most of the innuendos and flirting. After half an hour he felt tired and grubby. He wanted to talk to his boyfriend so he could have a conversation that wasn’t loaded with sexual suggestion. And how weird did that sound? He waited until Val was alone before taking a break for a soda.

Val saw him coming. He thumped the glass onto the bar while Jesse was still five feet away.

 

Jesse eyed him. “Everything okay?”

 

“Sure.” Val bit the word off.

Uh-oh. Jesse’s gut churned. “Crazy night, huh?” Val set his lips in a firm line and didn’t answer. “Val…” Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Look at them. They’re like jackals. They think buying a ticket gives them the right to maul and paw. They’re even hitting on Eric, and he keeps his clothes on. He’s the MC, for God’s sake.” Val gestured with his chin. “That one in the tank top has her hand in Chaz’s back pocket. You’ve no idea how much I want to tell those women to keep their fucking hands to themselves.”

“Chaz doesn’t mind. He likes the attention.” That wasn’t the point, but Jesse didn’t know what else to say.
“Chaz is a player. You’re not.” Val leaned forward, lowering his voice to an angry whisper. “You don’t even like women. It’s bad enough seeing them scream at you, maul you when you’re dancing, but now you’re sitting on women’s laps and rubbing all over them like you’re trying to get off. I hate it.”

“Val…” Jesse said helplessly. “It’s my job.”
“Sometimes your job really sucks.” Val grabbed a lemon and started slicing with quick, jerky movements. Jesse was afraid he’d cut himself. “If you want to act like a cheap hustler, go get a real stripping job. At least you’d get tips when a woman sticks her hands in your pants.” His eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

Neither could Jesse.
“Shit, Jesse. I’m sorry.”
Jesse fought to stay in control. “Fuck you,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Val stretched out his hand as if to touch him. Jesse glared at him, and Val shoved his hands into his dress pants pockets instead, his shoulders hunched. “I didn’t mean that,” he said softly.

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have said it.” Jesse went back to the table and his customers.
Brad watched him walk over. His gaze flicked from Jesse to Val and then back. “Hey. You okay?” He reached out but let his hand drop as Jesse sidestepped.

“Fine.” Jesse made the effort and smiled at the group of women sitting at their table. “So. Anyone want me to take pictures of them with Brad? I know you girls all have cell phones.”

Several women grabbed for their purses, and Jesse took quite a few pictures and posed for some too.

 

Val tried to catch his eye a couple of times, but Jesse ignored him.
* * * *

For the rest of the week Jesse walked a tightrope, trying to do enough to please the audience and Chaz without tipping the delicate balance and setting off Val’s jealousy. Val was making an effort too, which was good, because if their relationship was going to work, they’d both have to learn to give and take.

When they talked at the theater or on the phone, there was still an air of tension between them, but Val had apologized more than once, and he offered to pick Jesse up on Monday afternoon as usual.

Val made lunch—well, breakfast for him. Jesse picked at his omelet, aware the silence wasn’t an entirely comfortable one. As Jesse washed the dishes, Val came up behind him. Jesse tensed, ready for some kind of showdown, but Val ran a hand down his arm.

“Hey. Let’s put last week behind us. This is our day, and I don’t want to waste our time together avoiding each other’s eyes and not talking.”

“Me neither.” Jesse leaned back as Val wrapped his arms around him. “I’m trying to adjust, but it’s gonna take some getting used to. I’ve never dated a dancer before.” Val tugged him closer, rubbing his cheek against Jesse’s hair, like a cat marking him with his scent. “Never dated anyone as hot and sexy as you.”

Jesse squirmed. “I’m not that hot…” He stopped. There was no way to respond to that without sounding like he was either fishing for more compliments or being an egotistical asshole.

“Says the man who has hundreds of women screaming for him every night.” Val’s breath brushed his ear, and Jesse turned to press his face against Val’s throat. “It sucks that those women can touch you when I can’t. I don’t like it, but I know there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Jesse didn’t like it either, but he held his tongue. If he said anything, he’d be siding with Val, and he didn’t want to hand him more ammunition. He already knew his job was less than ideal. He didn’t need someone else mocking it or talking him into quitting.

“At least I know you won’t cheat on me with one of them.”

Jesse stiffened. “I’d never—”
“I’m joking.” Jesse looked up and saw that he was. Or at least Val thought he was. Jesse wasn’t so sure. Val grimaced. “Sorry, that was my poor attempt to lighten the mood.”
“Don’t joke about stuff like that.” Jesse tried to pull away, but Val didn’t let go.

“No. I’m sorry. I won’t.”

Val sounded sincere, and Jesse allowed himself to relax. Val stepped closer, winding his fingers into Jesse’s hair. He tilted Jesse’s head back to kiss his throat. Jesse groaned, and Val slipped his knee between Jesse’s thighs. “You like that?”

It was hard to speak while Val’s thigh was pressed insistently against him, giving him something to grind on.

Val’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Does it feel good?” One hand kneaded his butt. Slid into his jeans, into the crack of his ass. “You like being with me, don’t you?”
He couldn’t think with Val’s hand down his pants, Val’s mouth delivering urgent kisses behind his ear, nipping at that sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder.

“Jesse?”
“Yes,” he managed.
“You are so hot.” Val tugged him toward the bedroom, walking backward. “Come

on.”

 

Jesse had left wet handprints where he’d hung on to Val’s T-shirt. “The dishes…”

 

“Leave them. I’ll do them later.” Val pulled harder, and Jesse went, relieved that everything seemed to be okay between them and they still had this one day of freedom.
Chapter Seven

On Tuesday it started all over again. Another night of sweaty gyrating followed by meaningless small talk. Jesse was at the meet and greet, but he couldn’t seem to focus.

“That bartender keeps staring at you.”

Jesse was talking to a woman in a tight, short skirt and low-cut shirt. Her makeup was carefully applied, but the skin of her throat and chest showed her true age. His grandmother would have said she was mutton dressed as lamb. Weird that he was thinking of his gran now. The customer wasn’t that old.

Jesse looked over his shoulder. Val rested against the bar, arms folded, but he straightened and made a show of brushing at his waistcoat when he saw Jesse looking at him. Busted.

“He’s a friend.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to the bar and back to Jesse. “He’s not looking too friendly right now. Maybe he’s jealous. Guess you get a lot more action in your line of work. He’s pretty easy on the eyes, though.”

Jesse stepped closer. He needed to distract her before she realized the real reason Val was jealous. “How did you like the show? Did you have a favorite dance number?”
She grinned. Flecks of bright pink lipstick stuck to her teeth. She wore a heavy, cloying perfume that prickled his nose. He squirmed as she raked her gaze down his body. “My favorite number’s three. Would your friend be interested in joining us?”
Jesse’s face flamed, and his stomach roiled. “He’s not allowed to sit with the customers.”
“Oh, honey, you are so sweet.” She patted his cheek, her long painted nails tapping his skin.
Jesse forced himself to smile.