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“Oh, right, he sure as hell is. You gettin’ some o’ that?”
Groaning, I didn’t want to answer but I did. “No, Joel.”
“That’s a’right. It’ll happen,” he said with enough confidence that I looked to him. He was grinning like he’d eaten a canary after slinking through the yard, hunting it.
After he gave me a wink, I was about to ask him what he was going on about, but Damon came running into the club behind us. “He showed. Joel, he was looking at the shower in the guesthouse. It’s leaking or something, one of the guests was quick to complain about it. Can you go look it over? Burke couldn’t see what was wrong.”
“Sure thin’.”
As Joel left the club, Damon sighed heavily. “He sucks with the guests he doesn’t know, too shy to do much more than squeak at them, but he does great with household shit like leaky faucets.”
“We all have our strengths. Say, he was asking about my boss. He acted like he had insider information or something.”
Damon stiffened quickly, and was even quicker to spout, “Who knows with Joel? He’s…weird. Let’s get on the stage and practice.”
As suspicious as I was, I was also already in work mode, so I cast my thoughts aside about Joel and Rick and got to work.
The club was made from an old barn. It was totally themed that way as well, with rough wood walls, ropes everywhere, iron fixtures like in an old barn. The floor was rubbery, comfortable to walk and kneel, but it was clear over sawdust and peanut shells. That was the best part, in my opinion, besides the mural.
Their friend had done a huge mural on the inside wall of the barn, near the doors. Joel was out front, muscled and wearing his patented goofy grin. Damon and Burke stood tall and mean-faced behind him, only their faces were those of bulls. All their animals were there, from their dog, Millie, to their baby goats.
The money I made at Cowpokes was great. Those that were at the club on those weekends it was open, they spent well. The problem was that the place only opened once a month, and less in the heart of winter. I could never support myself at that job. Besides the fact I’d be bored to death without one.
If I could dance every night, though, I would. I had it in my genes, I guess. My parents’ dancing was the delight of millions. Their names were written on marqueesand across posters, their colorful costumes caught in the brightest ways to forever show them in the middle of a dance move.
I’d grown up watching them in my own house, dancing around the kitchen or outside in the garden. Always with smiles that made me never doubt their devotion to one another.
That had set me up for failure, of course. I’d fallen in love with the wrong men, thinking that my life would be as colorful and loving as theirs had been. More a realist than ever, I didn’t think that was in the cards for me.
Climbing on the stage that night, the crowd generous in throwing out money and applause, I felt in the spotlight in so many ways. As I started to move with the sexual beat, I let my eyes focus there, into the light shining on me. I didn’t see the crowd of men, didn’t hear their catcalling.
I was in that light, a big part of it, and I could be a ray like that, brightening a dark place. I spun and the world stayed still. That was what dancing was to me. The world was stagnant and seemingly unmoving in its slow progression around the sun.
I felt a part of light and heat, a particle of air that I felt on my sweaty face. Cool, comforting, air that was light and was lightening me along with it.
When the crowd did come into sight, their faces were blurred with my movement. They all looked like they had masks, and let’s face it, being a club centered around BDSM, there were masks. A few of them.
One such masked man was down in front, sitting with his left ankle resting over his knees, the leather pants even tighter with the position. It’s not like I could tell the way he looked with leather on from literally head to toe, but he felt…sexy. He felt handsome.
Being around no one but Rick, maybe that was the problem. I hadn’t hooked up with anyone recently enough to keep my brain from being overcome by my hormones. I could have just seen a beautiful, intelligent, amazing guy and got a crush.
It could happen to anyone.
I set my sights on that masked man in the front of the stage, dancing a little closer, watching him as he sat with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes followed me, and no matter where I was on the stage, his eyes were on me.
I could barely see them, however, just when he’d move them. Between the light in my eyes and the mask hooding his eyes some, they were a mystery, just like he was.
The song was coming to an end, and I slinked to the center of the stage to finish the number with a couple of spins and an exaggerated bow when the applause came. I took the kisses on the cheek Damon gave me and slowly descended the steps, hoping the masked man would make the first move.
Thankfully, he did, but not right away. I went to sit with Joel and Burke. Damon was on stage announcing the next act, and they were beaming up at him, proud of their showstopping host.
“He likes this way too much. I catch him announcing things to the goats and chickens with that same voice,” Burke leaned over to confess. “Isn’t he cute as hell?”
“He’s hot, I know that,” I gave him. Joel was whooping and carrying on watching. “One day, maybe Joel will be up on stage, announcing the shows.”
Burke gazed at Joel. The look was filled with so much love, it took away my breath. “I think he might. One day.”
The scantily clad waiter came over, moving the graffiti-painted material of the tight, tiny briefs from the crack of his ass, then realized he was doing it in front of the boss. “Sorry, Burke. This one’s…too small.”
