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I sat and sipped the drink I was brought without having to be asked. Peyton on one side of me, Greer on the other. Their eyes were on the stage. I’d always known Peyton and Greer were gay. They didn’t hide it. I didn’t care who they found attractive. They protected me from bullying in high school. They could have told me they liked to be bound and whipped and I wouldn’t have batted an eye.
That wasn’t why I loved my friends. That was how we met. Me getting beat up and them saving me. No one had protected me like that before, except my dad. From then on, we were inseparable.
The two of them needed to decompress as much as I did after the past few days. I would have preferred women on stage. For my friends, I’d go anywhere.
My pile of work was never-ending. After the day I’d had, I was letting myself have this night. I didn’t even bother checking my phone since we got into Peyton’s Tahoe and left the office.
The music slowed to a stop. The deejay announced the exit of the dancer and we clapped. Some louder than others.
Then, a hush fell over the crowd. They all seemed to know something I didn’t.
I leaned toward Greer. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the stage when he spoke. “The next dancer is the most requested here. I know you’re not into guys, but watch him, Perry. You’ll appreciate how he moves. It’s mesmerizing.”
That I could do. I leaned back in my chair, drink in hand, as the deejay announced the dancer.
Ocean.
The music started slowly, building into a sensuous beat. No one talked on the main floor. It was like they were holding a collective breath, waiting for the moment the curtain opened. I guess what Greer said was right. This man was in demand.
The purple fabric parted, revealing Ocean on the other side. He wore black slacks that sat right at his hips. His body shimmered like gold coins when he stepped forward, the light dancing over his bare chest and arms, hitting him just right. A solid black tie hung down his front, snug around his throat. This close to the stage, I noticed the mask that adorned his face had small gold hearts on it.
Ocean’s eyes didn’t meet anyone’s. He stared straight ahead as he walked out with the confidence and knowledge that, right now, he owned the room.
As the music continued to build, his movements sped up, not going too fast. The way his muscles flexed as he danced, how his arms and legs, his torso, everything synced up perfectly. The music wasn’t orchestrated by a composer. No, it was Ocean who commanded the beat. He was the one dictating when it ebbed and flowed. He knew when to have the notes hit just right.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peyton lean forward, his eyes riveted to the stage. Elbows on his thighs, I didn’t think anything short of gunfire could pull his gaze from Ocean.
I wasn’t as enthralled as him, but I understood the draw. Ocean was raw sex appeal, and I found it harder and harder to look away.
Ocean’s tie was the first to go. Thrown over his shoulder toward the curtain. It wasn’t until the next song started that he undid his pants with practiced fingers, teasing the audience. The pop of the button. The slow slide of the zipper. He eased them off until he was bare, except for the thin strings on his hips holding a pouch over his dick. Ocean’s mask was still firmly in place, making me wonder if he ever took it off.
Who was he under there? Why I had the strong desire to find out, I wasn’t certain. But I did. I wanted to see his eyes, look at the intensity in them. Would they stay closed as he danced without the mask to conceal him? Or would he keep them open, baring his soul to the room? This wasn’t just a dance. This wasn’t only a job to him. This was what made him feel good. A person who danced like he did wasn’t up there for the money alone. He loved this.
Movement from my left brought my attention back to Peyton. This time I angled my face toward him so I could see what he was doing, as well as keep Ocean in front of me.
Peyton leaned back, his hand sliding up his thigh, disappearing so I couldn’t see anything else due to the table being in the way. His arm moved subtly, a slight lift of his shoulder. Shit, was he touching himself? I lived with the man but had never seen or heard him in the throes of any kind of passion. Nor had I given it much thought.
In this room with the scene in front of me, I wanted to lean closer to Peyton, find out if he was touching himself through his slacks like I thought he was.
My dick lengthened, growing hard. The feeling snapped me back to reality and forced my eyes firmly on the stage.
Was I just lusting after my best friend? What the fuck?
Ocean danced closer to our side of the stage, snagging my attention, pulling me from my thoughts. He dipped down low then rolled his hips upward, pushing his ass out. Hisbareass so close.
I had to resist palming myself.
What was happening to me? How was I this turned on for a guy?
Instead of giving in to the urge to squeeze my dick, I picked up my glass and swallowed what remained, my eyes staying with Ocean, not daring to look at Peyton again.
The music slowed eventually. Ocean’s time in front of me was coming to an end. I wanted to go to the deejay and pay him extra to play more for the man who was slowly working backward toward the curtain.
Everything faded away except for Ocean. I stayed fixated on him until the purple velvet closed, taking the sinful man from me. The urge to find Dexen, to demand he tell me who Ocean was, was so strong. I rocked back in the chair, the glass slipping from my fingers, clattering to the table, luckily staying upright.
Who was I right now?
