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“Fine. I’ll watch him. But don’t be too long. I’ve got my hands full.”
“You always do.”
Robin stuck his tongue out at me and mimed giving a blow job, making me laugh as I exited the parlor and went to get my jacket.
He didn’t actually hand out blow jobs at Molly’s—that was explicitly against staff rules. At least, I didn’tthinkhe did. But I knew he liked to give them, so who knows how many men he had agreed to meet up with after hours? I was sure he got requests, like we all did, disguised as jokes but meant in earnest, at least some of the time. You learned to laugh and play along. If the guy got super rude or overly suggestive, all it took was a word to Jacob or Sebastian, and they would be dealt with.
Our regulars—men who enjoyed the vibe at Molly’s and had made it their go-to hangout—were careful not to upset the ‘entertainment’. Because they knew we could have them banished with a word, and they liked it here.
I grabbed my coat but only draped it over my shoulders as I stepped outside, careful to hold the railing as I went down the steps in case some ice hadn’t succumbed to the vast amounts of salt we dumped on them. The soft leather shoes we wore were cute, but they didn’t have the best treads.
Some dude in a motorcycle jacket walked by and threw me a look, probably wondering why there was a Victorian male tart on the streets of Ottawa. Not everyone knew about Maverick Molly’s, although it was a popular spot in the gay BDSM scene.
I winked at him. “Just having a smoke between blow jobs.”
The guy cursed under his breath and continued walking.
Ottawa was a weird place. It was conservative on the surface and in the rural areas right through. But in the urban core, things were different. Ottawa contained a vast community of kinksters who owned bars and other businesses and held events all over the city. You didn’t have to look too hard to find them.
I stood in the shoveled-out space at the bottom of the stairs and dug out my pack of cigarettes, listening to the wine of sirens in the distance. I was lucky that Jacob and Sebastian understood my need to take a break and didn’t begrudge me indulging in front of their club. In a way, it was good advertising to have one of their seductively dressed ‘entertainers’ in front of the place, sucking on a paper pipe. Most of the men who came here had more questionable habits than an occasional cigarette.
I didn’t smoke that much. I’d cut down to half a pack a day, and I was proud of that. It was part of my plan for this year, along with moving out of my mom’s place and not getting any marks below a B at school. I wasn’t quite ready to quit smoking completely, and trying to do so while I was still living with…her…was a losing proposal. Right now, I needed it, or else I’d have to go on some kind of antidepressant, and I just felt like smoking was more fun and less complicated. I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to thirty, so worrying about lung cancer way down the line wasn’t a deterrent.
I found my lighter in my coat pocket and lit up, then tucked everything away and stood there, gazing at the mix of stone houses, and steel buildings that contained offices and coffee shops and delis. Most of the traffic in this area came around during the day—at this time of night there weren’t a lot of folks about. And although that might seem like a bad thing for a business, a place like Maverick Molly’s thrived, since men could enter and exit without a crowd of people seeing them do so.
Sure, being queer wasn’t illegal anymore, but being queer and kinky could still be seen in a less-than-desirable light by conservative politicians or business leaders with an ax to grind.
When I wasn’t drawing the lung-killing smoke into my lungs, I took deep breaths of the cold air and closed my eyes, wondering when life would become more interesting than a constant round of schoolwork, work-work and trying to deal with Mom’s mood swings and passive aggressive manipulations.
A car door slammed shut, then a squeal of tires sounded in the darkness and I heard footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes.
A man in a dark gray coat walked in my direction. There was no sign of the car—perhaps he’d gotten a lift from a friend or used an Uber. He was tall, with a casual way of walking and a confident demeanor. I had no idea if he was planning on coming to Molly’s, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
I placed the cigarette between my lips and inhaled, my gaze running over the gentleman as he ambled toward me. Our eyes met, and he smiled.
“Taking a break?” he said, his voice a caramel macchiato to my ears—smooth and strong and decadent, with a kick.
I smiled around my cigarette and nodded.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, his forehead creased with concern.
I shrugged.How sweet of him.
He stopped at the bottom of the steps and glanced up at the elegant main door, then back at me.
“Going in?” I said, my eyebrows raised.
He stared at me, and I couldn’t quite glean what he thought. I liked his face. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and a head of black curls that seemed like they’d be hard to tame—and an eyebrow piercing, which was hot. He looked older than me, but not ancient.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You think so?” I laughed. “Oh, you’re going in.”
“Well, I didn’t plan to be waylaid by a saucy little tart having a smoke.” He grinned. “I might stay out here for a bit.”
Well, well, well.I’d been called worse things.
I took the cigarette out of my mouth. “You want one?”
