Synopsis:
Vice-president
David should have had it all – nice cars, the most expensive restaurants and
the finest clothes. But he hides a secret from all his colleagues – he’s gay.
He’s too scared to come out at work so he spends his evenings cruising for
company and frequenting strip clubs. In one such place, he meets pole dancer
Jeremy, a young man with problems of his own. Jeremy’s controlled by his boss
Donny and soon David’s interest starts to spell danger for them both…
Read an excerpt:
Read an excerpt:
Coxx was new to him. A last stop at
the end of a night of solitary drinking. Somewhere he’d always wanted to go but
had been afraid to. Not that night. That night alcohol gave him courage beyond
his wildest dreams. After his tough day at work, he didn’t care about denying
himself anymore.
The seedy male strip club was nestled
at the ass end of West Hollywood, tucked away almost apologetically among the
back streets. Its windows promised hot male dancers to cater to every whim. The
carpet was sticky, but the beer was cold. A long runway featured shiny brass
poles currently occupied by two dancers. The place was half-full, a slow night.
David Ackroyd sat on a stool at the
edge of the stage, his gaze on the lithe blond at the end of the runway. He
hadn’t expected to find any of the dancers worth more than titillation, but
since the young man first slunk from behind the velvet curtains, he’d had
David’s rapt attention.
He was average height with a lean,
tanned body. All strong limbs and toned muscle, he wore nothing more than a
sparkly silver thong and silly matching boots. The dancer’s plump, pert ass mesmerised
David as he shook it in time to an old Mötley Crüe song and gyrated in front of
a group of four giggling women.
Perhaps David hadn’t expected to see
women in a place like Coxx, but why not? Ogling nearly naked men wasn’t the
province of gay men alone; women had as much right to get their kicks as he did.
The blond dancer played up to his audience by sliding to his knees and letting
the women stroke his thighs and press bills into his thong. David doubted he
would let his male admirers get quite so fresh with him. Having a man grope you
was different. More intimidating, fraught with risk.
David took a swallow of Jack Daniel’s
and Coke, wishing for a better look at the blond dancer. He glanced at the
other man on the runway, a brunet. He was ripped and hard but nothing special
to look at. He seemed tired, jaded and only spared each person at the edge of
the stage fleeting attention. That was fine by David. He only had eyes for the
blond.
Fluidly, the dancer stood up, moved a
few steps back to the pole in the middle of the stage, and swung himself around
it, wrapping his long limbs gracefully about the steel. David stared. The man
hung upside down, ankles clinging, six-packed abdomen rippling. Then, he dismounted,
stalked across the runway and stood with legs spread and hands on his hips,
facing David. He seemed to wait as though for approval. David gulped as he
lifted his gaze up the dancer’s magnificent body, lingering on the enticing
bulge in his underwear. The blond was nearly too pretty to be called handsome. Maybe
late twenties with perfect skin and large, almond-shaped eyes of piercing blue.
A smile curled around the edges of his plump, sensual mouth as if he knew every
one of David’s thoughts. Like he had watched him out of the corner of his eye
and known David was salivating for a bit of the dancer’s attention.
David’s cock stirred. It filled with
blood, pressing against his underwear with a sweet ache. He forgot where he was
and drowned in the thrill of an attractive man seeking him out. David imagined
they were in a nightclub, and he could take this beautiful stranger home if he
wanted to and make love to him all night without money changing hands. He took
another swallow of his drink as the man spun around, bent at the waist, and
shook his ripe buttocks. Reaching back, the dancer stroked his own backside
with lingering, sensual touches and pulled his cheeks just far enough apart
that the string on the ridiculous thong shifted, barely covering a hint of pink
pucker.
David clutched his knees and ground
his teeth. His rampant cock raged against his pants. The dancer turned around. One
hand on his thigh, fingers perilously close to his package, he swivelled his
hips, thrusting his groin in David’s direction.
David watched raptly as the blond
inched his fingers closer to the sparkling material covering his assets. His
fingertips traced the bulge between his legs before he cupped himself and
rubbed overtly. David licked his lips. The flimsy thong seemed to expand. Was
the dancer getting hard? It was difficult to see in the darkness and playing
shadows, but the underwear seemed strained to bursting, and the blond stroked
his cock and balls as if he was very excited.
David placed his hands on the edge of
the runway. He ached to touch, but he wouldn’t be that guy, grabbing
disrespectfully and forgetting his boundaries. Now if the blond wanted to
invite him to delve into that sparkly bill-stuffed pouch right here in front of
all these people, that would be a different matter. David would give him the
handjob of his life, no worries. Hell, he would open his mouth and let the
dancer fuck it to his heart’s content right then if he wanted to.
The blond moved closer. He slid to his
knees with thighs wide apart. David stared up at the sweat glistening on the
dancer’s face and torso. He smelled the guy’s cologne, heady and spicy, and it
made his cock jolt and throb. His fingers twitched. The dancer smiled. He
gripped David’s right hand at the wrist and brought it to him, deliberately
placing it on his own upper thigh.
His flesh was like damp silk. David
stifled a groan. The blond guided David’s fingers to his inner thigh, electric-blue
eyes never leaving his. When his touch grazed heavy balls, David thought he
would whimper with desire. The blond’s hard-on was evident from this angle; his
cockhead almost reared over the top of the overstuffed pouch. He ran his tongue
slowly over his lips and then pressed David’s hand right into his groin, over a
rigid pole, generous in every way.
David caught his breath. He closed his
fingers around the dancer’s turgid shaft, squeezing gently but with greed,
aware of overstepping the mark and ready to be apologetic.
A moment later, the blond jerked away.
He skipped back to the pole and wound himself around it a couple of times before
blowing kisses in the general direction of all those watching. Then, he
disappeared behind the curtain.
David sat in crushing disappointment.
His heart raced, and his cock threatened to explode. His desire dampened his
underwear. He tried to rationalise to himself what had just happened. A
scorching encounter with a man paid to interact with his audience. A bonus in
every way at the end of a draining day. He smiled ruefully and finished his
drink, adjusting himself discreetly before sliding from the stool. Drink and
lust made him unsteady when he stood. He weaved his way to the exit and vowed
he’d never come here again.
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