Around ten, the wolf from the previous night came back.
Amani spotted him coming off the elevator and felt a small spark of satisfaction. He'd said come back Friday, and the wolf had come back Saturday, which meant he was either eager or impatient. Both were interesting. Both told Amani things.
The wolf came to the bar, and didn't order whiskey. He ordered a beer, something simple, something that saidI'm not performing tonight, I'm just here. Amani poured it and set it down without commentary. The wolf took a seat at the rail where he could see the main floor and settled in to watch.
Good. That was exactly what Amani had told him to do.
He kept half an eye on the wolf as the night unfolded. Watched him watch the scenes. The wolf's attention was thoughtful rather than hungry. He tracked the negotiations, noted the check-ins, seemed to be studying the culture rather than just consuming the spectacle. When a particularly intense flogging scene started near the center stage, the wolf watched the Dom's technique with the critical eye of someone who knew the difference between showmanship and skill. He wincedslightly when the Dom's aim drifted too high on a backswing, a tell that said he would have done it differently, and better.
Amani filed all of it away. The wolf had skill. He had patience. He was doing exactly what Amani had asked, which showed either respect or strategy. Amani was fine with both. Under other circumstances, in another week, he might have gone over and started a conversation. Tested the waters. Let the wolf buy him a drink on the other side of the bar.
But not that night. They were busy. Amani was working. And there was something pleasurable about making the wolf wait. About knowing he was being watched and choosing not to acknowledge it. Power didn't always come from a flogger. Sometimes it came from a twenty-year-old in tiny shorts who knew he was the most interesting thing in the room and wasn't in a hurry to prove it.
The wolf stayed until midnight, nursed two beers, tipped well, and left without trying to talk to Amani again.
Bethany texted him from the desk:Your wolf left. You're impossible.
Amani texted back:He'll be back Friday.
Bethany:And you'll make him wait again.
Amani:That's the fun part.
Three eye-roll emojis. He grinned at his phone and pocketed it.
***
The rush eased around one. The late-night regulars settled in. The music shifted from the driving beat that fueled the early scenes to something slower and warmer, music that people swayed to while draped over each other at the bar.
Amani was cleaning glasses, his favorite mindless task, one that let his brain idle while his hands stayed busy, when one of the younger regulars, a meerkat shifter named Danny whocouldn't have been more than twenty-two, slid onto a stool and put his head down on the bar.
"Rough night?" Amani asked.
Danny groaned without lifting his head. "He didn't show."
Amani didn't need to ask who. Danny had been talking about a jaguar he'd been messaging for weeks, some Dom from Reno who kept promising to drive down and meet him at the club. The jaguar had canceled three times already. Danny kept making excuses for him. Amani had opinions about that but was keeping them behind his teeth, because Danny hadn't asked for opinions. He'd asked for a place to put his head down.
"Water or whiskey?" Amani asked.
"Whiskey."
"Water first." He set a glass of ice water in front of Danny and waited until the meerkat lifted his head enough to take a sip. "There you go. Drink the whole thing and then I'll pour you something strong enough to make you forget that jaguar's name."
Danny drank the water in three long gulps and set the glass down. "He said he got caught up with work."
"Mm." Amani poured him a generous whiskey. Not generous enough to get him drunk, Amani was careful about that, especially with the younger regulars, but enough to take the sting out.
"You think he's lying."
"I think," Amani said carefully, setting the glass down and meeting Danny's eyes, "that Reno is a three-and-a-half-hour drive. And that someone who wants to see you makes the drive. And someone who doesn't makes excuses." He held up a hand before Danny could argue. "I'm not telling you what to do. You're a grown man and your love life is your business. But you asked me what I think, and that's what I think."
Danny stared at his whiskey for a long moment. Then he looked up at Amani with red-rimmed eyes and something that might have been the beginning of clarity. "You've never been strung along by someone, have you."
It wasn't really a question. Amani leaned back against the counter and considered it anyway. "No. But that's not because I'm special. It's because I'm stubborn and I'd rather be alone than chase someone who isn't chasing me back. That's a choice, not a virtue. You're more open-hearted than I am, Danny. That's not a weakness. Just make sure the people you open up to deserve it."
Danny took a sip of his whiskey. Then another. "You're annoyingly wise for someone in booty shorts."
"Performance garment."
