Page 57 of Pieces of Me

Rylan must have said the magic words, because the drag queen widened her eyes and pursed her lips up in a sexy moue. “Oh my God, darling! Why didn’t you say so?” She looked him up and down. “Scott told me to expect a little photographer boy tonight, but he didn’t tell me you would be so cute! Mmmm, sexy baby with glasses. I love it.”

Rylan couldn’t help but blush, and she winked. “Tell me, picture man, do you have a long, hard lens, just for me?” She put the tip of her finger to her bottom lip and peered up at him through her eyelashes.

Rylan grinned, held up his camera, and leaned in close, letting his voice drop to a growl. “The longest and hardest of lenses is right here, beautiful. All for you.”

“Oh!” she squealed, opening the door to the booth before stepping out and striking a cheeky pose. She was wearing a long, formfitting, sparkly gown with a rainbow boa draped around her neck. With high heels on, she was easily a few inches over six feet.

“My God,” Rylan breathed, getting immediately into the spirit. “You are gawgeous! I can put your name in lights! You simply have to work it. Work it for me, baby!”

He circled around her like a high-fashion photographer, shooting from all angles, dropping down to one knee and back up again, delighted at how she played it off, strutting around, sticking out her rear and shaking her boobs.

When the crowd noticed what was going on, they started chanting, “Teena! Teena!” The go-go dancers flitted over and played escort as Teena sashayed up and down the velvet rope like she was on a catwalk, flipping her electric-blue hair and really working it.

Rylan followed her until at last she stopped and faced the crowd, holding her hands up. “Wow. You don’t know how lucky you mahfuckers are,” she called out. “Gettin’ to see my assets for free!” The crowd whooped and hollered as she turned her back to them and bent over, her legs wide apart, standing slowly to cast a sexy look over her shoulder.

Rylan got the whole thing on film, and he was vibrating with excitement. Teena’s impromptu performance was fantastic, and what a great opportunity for him to show Spectrum what he could do with a camera. He looked up as Teena walked over to him, breathing the tiniest bit hard from her exertions, sweat making her face shine in the flashing lights of the marquee.

“Goddamn, that was fun, but I must look like shit. This fucking heat. I need to powder my nose,” she said. “Come with me, pretty.” Rylan hung his camera around his neck and followed her over to the ticket booth, where she reached inside for something and fastened a rubber bracelet around his wrist. It was neon green with VIP stamped on it.

“Scott said you was to get full access tonight,” she explained. “This here will get you anywhere you want to go in the club, baby.”

Another drag queen came out to take Teena’s place in the booth, and the crowd called her name, begging for more as she swept by them and through the entrance doors that grinning bouncers held open for her. She led Rylan over to the bar and waved at the bartender, who came over to confer with her. Rylan leaned against the counter and gazed around in interest.

Wow, what a place. All the movie theater seats had been removed, of course, and the sloping floor leveled out in order to make the entire room almost one big dance floor. The rest of the building looked the same as it must have been in the forties: high, fabric-covered ceilings and cherrywood accents, a few glittering chandeliers along with the more modern strobe lights that flashed wildly to the beat of the music. Off to the left of the bar, there was a set of wide, carpeted stairs leading up to what used to be the theater balcony level, everything roped off and guarded by a bouncer.

Teena saw him looking and reached over to brush her fingers across his wrist and the rubber bracelet there. “This will get you upstairs to VIP,” she said, leaning in toward him and raising her voice over the thumping music. “There’s a full bar up there, as well as cocktail and meal service.”

The bartender placed two drinks in front of them, and Teena pushed some sort of pinkish concoction toward him. Rylan picked it up and took a cautious sip. It was tart, a little sweet, and very good. Strong, though. He couldn’t help but cough a little as the liquor hit the back of his throat, and Teena grinned at him. “Go easy on those, sweet love, or else they’ll knock you on your ass. But they’re really good for getting loosened up.” She moved closer and rubbed up against him sinuously, and Rylan gave her a wink, sliding his arm around her waist to give her a squeeze.

“I’m plenty loose,” he assured her. “This place is fucking great. I love it here already.”

“Best place I ever worked, period,” she said. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get fixed up and ready for my show. Scott said all your drinks should be on the house, so enjoy yourself, darling.”

Teena leaned in and air-kissed him before floating off in a cloud of expensive perfume. Rylan settled in at the bar and sipped his drink, looking around and getting a feel for the place. It was packed, the dance floor a writhing mass of bodies. Go-go dancers performed on elevated platforms set throughout the room, accepting tips. People were laughing, talking, drinking, flirting…just another Friday night at the club.

Rylan picked up his camera. He tested the lighting and took a few sample shots, made some adjustments to his filters, and then started to shoot for real. He wandered around, taking pictures of the DJ in his booth, blinged-out, padded headphones around his neck as he furiously worked his sound board, every now and then stopping to bust out a dance move. Bartenders, cocktail waitresses, and waiters were almost blurs as they moved to serve their customers and keep them supplied with alcohol. Underwear models and porn stars worked the crowd, posing for selfies with fans.

“Hey, Rylan. Glad you could make it out tonight.” The voice in his ear was unmistakable, a husky Southern drawl, and Rylan whirled around with a smile.

“Scott, hey.” The words dried up in his throat, and he swallowed hard. Wow.

Scott was wearing a skintight, black tank top that molded itself to his ripped torso, baring his powerful shoulders and corded arms. Dark jeans hung low on his hips, a strip of skin showing between the waistband and the bottom of the tank. He was wearing a silver necklace, and Rylan gulped again when he realized Scott had outlined his eyes in kohl. Guyliner was one of Rylan’s kinks, and fuck if it didn’t make Scott’s eyes look an almost otherworldly green.

His black hair appeared carelessly styled but fell in faultless waves across his forehead, the subtle cut emphasizing his high cheekbones and stubbly jaw. He lifted his arm to wave at someone standing behind Rylan, the motion causing the tank top to shift, revealing a brown nipple. Shit, even the tuft of hair in Scott’s armpit was perfect; not too bushy, not too sparse.

His skin was tanned, smooth, and flawless. He moved as gracefully as a dancer. Everything about him was goddamned perfect, like he wasn’t even real. Some adoring fans surrounded them, and Scott gave him an apologetic smile as he moved off to pose for a series of selfies with them.

Fucking Greek god, Jesus.

Almost as if he’d spoken aloud, Scott glanced over at him.

“Give me a minute, guys,” he said, flashing the men clustered around him a bright smile. “Need to talk to Rylan for a minute, and then I’m all yours, I promise.” They faded back with eager assurances that they’d be waiting, and Scott leaned against the bar top, facing Rylan.

“So you made it,” he remarked, reaching out and squeezing Rylan’s shoulder in greeting, his palm firm and warm, sending a little prickle of heat along Rylan’s skin. “Good to see you, man.”

The bartender put a shot glass of something down in front of Scott, and he slammed it back, smacking his lips. He shook his head at the offer of another one, saying with a touch of wryness, “No, thanks, Bobby. I need to pace myself because I know I’ll be drinking a lot in VIP tonight.”

Bobby grimaced in sympathy and bumped knuckles with Scott before heading off down the bar to serve some people waving for his attention.