Cervena (2 page)

“Two years off and on. Work’s hard to find for someone who didn’t graduate and has no fixed address. There are more people than jobs as it is. Sometimes I was able to get rooms but not often. It’s been a couple of months since I had either work or a bed for the night.”

I nodded and opened the kitchen door. Immediately noise filled the room, and Sasha winced, turning away from the sounds. I indicated he should follow me along the corridor. Tomáš almost bumped into us as he returned from the club, his tiny red jock stuffed with koruna. From what I could see, Sasha was about the same height but possibly thinner.

“Tomáš, how long before you’re on the podium again?” I asked, continuing to speak in English.

“Forty minutes.”

“This is Sasha. Will you take him upstairs, let him get a shower, and lend him some clothes? Jeans and shirt will do.”

Tomáš’s eyes widened as he looked at Sasha, then back at me. “Joel?”

“Hurry up.”

“Of course.” Tomáš nodded. Leaving them together, I returned to the bar.

“Another beer?” Pavel shouted in order to be heard above the music.

I shook my head. “Coke. Thank you.” I checked on the progress of the bachelors, most of whom were now crowded around the podium, waving cash at Marek. When I turned back, a tall glass of Coke with ice and a slice of lime had been placed on the bar. I saluted Pavel with the glass before I took a sip.

I checked my watch several times, and almost thirty minutes passed before Tomáš and Sasha appeared. Tomáš had pulled on denim shorts over his jock, and he wore a pair of horrible red plastic sandals on his feet. Sasha walked behind him, head down.

“Here you go. I need to get back to work,” Tomáš said, the words possibly aimed at both Sasha and me. Tomáš slipped away, leaving the young Russian standing beside me.

Sasha’s hair shone wetly from his shower, and the scent of pine-scented shower gel drifted to me. He was clean-shaven and the removal of the hair revealed a firm chin and high cheekbones. He pressed his full lips together and kept his eyes down.

I’d been right about him and Tomáš being of similar size, but I wasn’t so sure Tomáš’s style suited Sasha. The electric blue shirt seemed too bright for him and the faded jeans were so tight they looked to have been painted on. It was impossible to miss the decent package he had crammed in there. I jerked my eyes back to his face quickly, noting the color in his cheeks. “Would you like a drink?”

Sasha glanced at my Coke and nodded. I didn’t really want the drink, and I pushed the glass along the bar toward him. He wrapped long slender fingers around the glass and lifted it to his lips, draining half the contents before placing it back on the bar.

“You asked if I could dance?” he reminded me.

“Yes. This is my club. Well, mine and a partner’s. We’ve been thinking about taking on another dancer. You’ve met Tomáš. That’s Marek up on the podium.” I pointed and Sasha turned to look over his shoulder. “There are three others. I mentioned before that they’re strippers, and you can see for yourself now. Would you feel comfortable taking your clothes off?”

“Um, I’ve never done anything like that, but yes. I could do it.” He met my eyes. “I’ll do anything. I mean, not
anything
, but, um….”

“I’m only suggesting you dance, Sasha.” I gave him a warm smile. “There are private rooms upstairs for lap dancing, but that’s the dancer’s choice. You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you do lap dances, you keep half of what the guys pay.”

Sasha nodded solemnly.

“Why don’t you get out on the dance floor and show me what you can do? Call it an audition.” I doubted Karel would be happy about missing this, but I didn’t like the way he auditioned new dancers. He made them get up on the podium when the club was closed, clad in only their underwear, and dance for ten minutes in front of the two of us. I remembered Andĕl’s audition vividly. The boy’s face had been as red as his boxer briefs, and his movements jerky and uncoordinated. Karel would have said no but I’d overruled it. Andĕl was beautiful, and I’d known the men would love him. I’d given him a second audition, fully dressed, in one of the upper rooms. Funnily enough, dancing virtually naked in front of hundreds came to him pretty easily once he got started.

Sasha finished his Coke and walked onto the dance floor. He was a little too thin but otherwise stunning. He’d need a haircut and a few decent meals, but if he could dance, he’d make plenty of tips. I did my best to think of the investment rather than the fact that he was exactly the type of man I liked.

He’s too young for you.

Sasha had told me he was almost twenty-one, but I usually preferred men closer to my own age. At thirty-five, I’d grown out of one-night stands a long time ago. Karel hadn’t and he was older than me, but after the club was set up I’d felt it was time to stop picking up random fucks and try a relationship instead. I’d had two since, both of which lasted over a year, but neither had been completely satisfying.

I shook myself in annoyance. I’d known the guy about three minutes and I was looking at him as potential boyfriend material. Ridiculous.

The music changed to a sensual tune with a heavy bass, making my chest vibrate. I tried to pay attention and watch with a critical eye as Sasha began to move. At first he merely shuffled from side to side, looking as awkward as Andĕl had that first time. Then he tilted his head back, half closed his eyes, and seemed to lose himself in the music. He lifted his arms above his head and moved his body in time with the beat, swaying and gyrating, virtually writhing on the dance floor. My cock swelled as I watched, and I resisted the urge to adjust myself.

A random dancer moved in behind Sasha and placed his hands on the boy’s hips. The blond man rubbed his groin against Sasha’s ass and slid one hand around to his stomach. Sasha stiffened and I edged forward, ready to step in. The other boys were quite capable of pushing away groping hands, but perhaps Sasha would think this was expected of him. The security guys always kept an eye on the podium, but they took no notice of the way the public danced.

Sasha made to pull away, glancing in my direction. I didn’t know what he saw on my face, but he jerked away from the blond, shaking his head. When he strode off the dance floor and returned to my side, I nodded and smiled in approval. “You move well.”

“I told you I like to dance.”

“And the guy who tried to touch you? You dealt with it appropriately, but does that worry you? Sometimes the patrons like to touch, but it’s not allowed here. Not even in the private dances.”

“I can look after myself. And it wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. I don’t know if it’s obvious, but in case you were wondering, I’m gay. That’s why I left my hometown. People found out and I was beaten. When I explained to my parents, they… they weren’t pleased.” He broke off and shrugged. I caught the flash of hurt on his face before he blinked and took a breath. “I really need to work. Dancing for people wouldn’t bother me, but I don’t sleep around. Wouldn’t, I mean.”

“I’m not asking you to. Like I said, the boys give private dances if they want to, but that’s all. There are cameras in all of the rooms and they’re well monitored. Anything happens that shouldn’t, security will go in and end it. It’s the same for the podium. I’ve been known to step in myself, and would have just then if you’d needed it.”

Sasha nodded and smiled. “Is the pay enough to get a room somewhere?”

“It’s enough to get an apartment if you want one, but the job includes accommodation. The boys all have a studio upstairs. You’ve seen Tomáš’s.”

Sasha’s smile widened. “It’s been a long time since I slept in a proper bed, without worrying some other person in whichever hostel I was in would rob me.”

I found it impossible to smile back. I knew very little about him yet. Beaten for being gay and, by the sound of it, shunned by his parents. I wanted to know more, find out how he’d traveled all the way from his home in Russia to Prague, but there was time for that later.

“Come to the office. There’s some paperwork to be done.” After pushing away from the bar, I led him through the back of the club. I closed the door of my office behind us and indicated a chair for him to sit on. “I assume you have a passport?”

“Um….”

“You don’t have a passport?” I frowned, picturing him sneaking across borders or stowing away in container lorries. I had a vivid imagination.

“Of course I have one.” He rose from the chair and shoved a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “It’s, um, Sasha’s not my real name. I’m sorry. I… it’s what I… it’s what my….”

He sank back onto the seat, dropped his head into his hands, and wept quietly. His shoulders shook and his gasps and snuffles filled the office. I plucked several tissues from the box on the desk, waited for him to lower his hands, and passed them to him.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He took the tissues, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose loudly. “I have a sister. Twelve years old. She called me Sasha because she could never pronounce my real name when she was little. My name is Stanislav Vasilievich.” He placed his passport on the desk.

“God, Sasha. I’m sorry. You must miss her. I have a younger sister, too, in England. I’m English.”

“Do you see her at all?”

“Yes, we’re pretty close. She’s married with an eight-year-old daughter. They live in London. I did, too, until ten years ago.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” I picked up his passport and opened it. His birth date checked out with what he’d said. He would be twenty-one in December. The picture showed him a few years younger, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with shorter hair. I placed it under the scanner to take a copy, then returned it to him. Opening a drawer, I located one of the forms we asked new employees to complete, along with a contract, and passed them to him. The contract was written in both Czech and English, and he read the English part carefully. When he was done, he picked up a pen and began to complete the form.

“May I still be called Sasha?” he asked. “I hate my real name anyway.”

“You can be whatever you want.”

“What do I call you? Boss? Mister…?”

“Just Joel. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

“What does that mean?” He continued writing, not looking up.

“It means we’re not formal. Everyone goes by their first names. My business partner’s name is Karel. I’ll introduce you to him later.” I glanced at my watch again. “Probably tomorrow. He’s occupied.”

Sasha finished writing in silence, then leaned back in his chair. “When do I start?”

“A week or so. I’ll arrange for a couple of the other dancers to give you some training. You’ll need a haircut and some outfits for the podium. Plus some everyday clothes.”

“I have no money to get those.”

“The club pays for everything the dancers wear for show. It’ll advance you enough to get a few casual outfits and personal items for the time being.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.” Sasha gave me another smile, this one brighter than the first. “Less than two hours ago I was stealing your rubbish and now I have a job and a home? Why?”

“Karel says I’m too soft.” I grinned at him.

“I think you have a big heart.”

“Thank you, Sasha.” I offered him my hand, and when he placed his in it, I shook firmly. “Welcome to Červenà.”

Chapter Two

“WHO IS
that guy?” Karel hooked one ankle over his other knee as we waited for Sasha’s “dress rehearsal.” He’d been with us a week and that night he would take to the podium in front of hundreds of clubbers for the first time. Why did I dislike the idea of it so much?

“What do you mean? You know who he is.”

“His name’s not Sasha. I looked at the file.”

“It’s a pet name his sister gave him.”

Karel raised an eyebrow. “How well do you know him, Joel?”

“Not as well as you got to know Bohdan and Marek when they joined us.”

Karel snorted. “Have you not heard of ‘try before you buy’?”

“They audition to dance, not fuck.” I grimaced, but Karel laughed.

“They weren’t complaining.”

“Well, keep your hands off Sasha,” I snapped.

“Someone’s possessive.”

“No, I just don’t want to see you mess with him. He’s a sweet kid.”

“Right.”

I stopped talking and turned my attention to Sasha as he climbed onto the podium. He’d had his hair cut in a short crop that suited him perfectly. He’d gained three or four pounds and looked much healthier than he had when I’d found him scavenging in the yard. It was difficult to believe only a week had passed. He seemed to be fitting in well with the other boys. All five of the dancers had welcomed him with open arms, and Tomáš and Fran had taken on the role of “tutors.” They’d reported Sasha was good, but neither Karel nor I had seen him dance yet.

Sasha bit his lip and clenched his slender hands into fists as he waited for the music to start. His nervousness was obvious and I hoped he’d be okay when he got going. It wasn’t a job for everyone. We’d had two young men try out for us in the summer and neither of them had the balls when it came down to it.

Pavel started the music—a fast dance track. Sasha closed his eyes for a moment and his chest heaved as he took a breath. Then he began to move. He had perfect rhythm, swaying, bucking, and grinding with the beat, turning slowly so he’d be seen from all sides of the podium when he was doing it for real. He kept his eyes half-closed, lips parted, and gradually his face relaxed into an expression of pleasure.

“Fuck,” I muttered, relieved Karel couldn’t hear me. Sasha was a beautiful sight. By the time he’d tossed his shirt toward the door leading behind the bar, my dick was rock hard. I crossed my legs and folded my arms, trying to look casual. The movement made my erection rub against my thigh, and I bit back a groan. The boy was going to undo me.

Another minute and Sasha’s shorts were gone, leaving him in nothing but black satin briefs, resting low on his hips and cut to show the bottom of his buttocks. The tight, shiny fabric clung to his half-hard cock as it pointed at his left hip.