Stage Fright (10 page)

* * * *

A few nights later, just over an hour before the curtains rose, Mike found him. “Val wants to see you,” he said quietly.
Jesse automatically looked over to the bar at the back of the theater. Val wasn’t there. He let go of the stage curtain. “Now? Is everything okay?”
Mike grinned. “Everything’s fine. He just wants a couple of minutes. Come on.” They made their way backstage and out into the hall behind the dressing room.

Val was leaning against the wall. He pushed off when he saw Mike and Jesse. “Go.” Mike gave him a gentle push. “If anyone asks where you are, I’ll cover for you.”

Jesse walked toward Val, wondering what was so serious that it couldn’t wait. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Val placed his hand at the small of Jesse’s back and steered him down the hall and around a corner to the storeroom. He already had his keys out. “I just wanted to see you.”

This didn’t make sense. Jesse looked up and down the hall, anxiety warring with arousal. Val was far too professional to bring him here for a quickie. Hell, the theater opened its doors in less than twenty minutes.

Val unlocked the storeroom door and pulled him inside as he spoke. “Come on. Before someone sees us.”
Jesse hadn’t been here before. There was no reason for the dancers to have access. He saw about three seconds’ worth of metal shelves and cardboard boxes before Val let go of his hand and they were enveloped in darkness.
The air felt hot and stale and smelled of dust. Jesse stood still, blinking and opening his eyes wide, trying to see with what little light filtered under the door. “What’s going on?”
Maybe Val had better night vision, or maybe he knew where everything was, because he found Jesse without stumbling into anything. Val grabbed him by his belt loops and pressed close so their groins were touching.
“I only have a few minutes.” Val’s erection pressed into his hip.

“Are you crazy?”

 

“Crazy for you.”

Jesse snorted, but then Val kissed him, had him hard in seconds. Jesse’s lips parted under Val’s gentle insistence. They touched tongues, and Jesse groaned.
This was such a bad idea. Sure, he’d fantasized about having sex in the storeroom with Val, but those were just fantasies. He hadn’t planned on acting on them.
He must have telegraphed his indecision, because Val spoke. “It’s okay. Mike’s watching out for us.”

Val’s hands roamed his body, sliding under his shirt, into the pants he was wearing for the first number.

“I can’t have a hard-on when I’m doing the show,” Jesse protested. “We’re not classified as a strip club. The licensing laws—”
Val curled his fingers around the waistband of Jesse’s thong. He gave it a gentle tug. “You’re so hot like this.” His other hand cupped one cheek of Jesse’s ass. “I want to do you right here, right now, but there’s not enough time.”
Jesse was mildly alarmed and a lot turned on. He would never let Val fuck him before a show. Even if he wasn’t a professional dancer, he could act like one. But the idea, the images…
Val dropped to his knees and opened Jesse’s pants. “I’m going to suck you off so when everyone’s screaming for you out there on the stage, I know I’m the one who made you scream.”
It was a very bad idea. They should leave right now, before they got caught and one of them, or both, lost a job. Except his dick was in Val’s mouth. Jesse groaned softly as Val pushed his thong aside, palming his balls.
Val tongued the head of his cock, then pulled off. He looked up, and his eyes shone in the dim light. He rubbed the tip of Jesse’s cock against his lips. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I promise.”

That really wasn’t an option. Jesse cupped the back of Val’s head, guiding him closer. “Don’t get anything on my costume,” he warned.
Val took him deeper, sucking harder. Jesse closed his eyes, listening to Val unbuckle his own pants and jerk off with quick, desperate movements. Jesse clamped a hand across his mouth to stifle his moans as he came.
He made it back to the dressing room without being discovered. Mike tried to catch his eye, but Jesse refused to look at him. He couldn’t look at anyone in case he gave himself away. He seesawed between wanting to thank Mike and wanting to punch him.
Jesse sneaked a look in the mirror. Anyone with half a brain would know he’d just had sex. His cheeks and lips were red, and his shirttail was peeking out of his fly. He surreptitiously adjusted his clothes. He met Brad’s eyes in the mirror, then hurriedly dropped his gaze.
He’d acted out one of his fantasies, and it had been hot as hell, but what they’d done tonight was dangerous. They’d been lucky not to get caught. He’d have to talk to Val, tell him they couldn’t do it again. Hopefully Val would understand.

* * * *

The theater wasn’t full, but Jesse put his heart and soul into the show. He didn’t want anyone to find fault with his performance. Not tonight.
He’d been pretty tightly wound before the show started, half expecting someone to say something, but postshow the dressing room’s atmosphere seemed unusually relaxed. To his relief Mike didn’t try to speak to him, and Chaz bragged about a showgirl he was seeing after the meet and greet. He kept calling her an “honest-to-God Vegas showgirl—with rhinestones and feathers and all that shit.” If Jesse didn’t know better, he would have thought Chaz was smitten. Their dance captain certainly seemed impressed.

Only a few girls showed up to mingle. They were polite, almost shy, and left early. Jesse had wondered if Val would act smug or territorial in front of the customers, but he needn’t have worried. Val was as professional as ever.

Jesse decided now was a good time to talk to Val, and when the girls left, he stayed at the table. All the dancers but Brad had already gone home.
“You waiting for Val?” Brad asked him.

Jesse knew his friendship with Val wasn’t a secret, but he was cautious about admitting it in case someone figured out they were much more than friends. It was obvious he was waiting for Val, though, so he didn’t deny it.

“Yeah.”

Brad looked at his watch. “He’s got another twenty minutes. I’ll go get us a drink.”
He was gone before Jesse got over his surprise. He chewed on his thumbnail. Why was Brad staying? It was just a coincidence, right? Brad probably didn’t know about earlier, not for sure.
He watched Val as Brad spoke to him. Val looked over, but he didn’t seem concerned. Jesse smiled reassuringly. Everything was fine. He was just having a drink with a coworker. Nothing to worry about. Val smiled back before handing Brad two beers.
Brad sat down and shoved a beer toward him. “Cheers.”

Jesse mumbled a response and tilted the bottle to his lips. Icy cold beer washed over his tongue and slid down his throat. He took a few swallows, more to avoid looking at Brad than because he was thirsty. When the beer was over half-gone, he put it back on the table.

Brad grinned. “Wow. I had no idea you liked beer that much.”

 

Jesse remembered his manners. “Thanks.”

Brad scrutinized him, and Jesse stared back. Brad was muscular, average height, ordinary brown hair and blue eyes. Not Hollywood attractive, but he had a friendly, open face and an easygoing personality. He was the only dancer who didn’t seem bothered by Chaz’s bad temper and surly attitude. Except for that one time when he’d been hungover.

“Good night tonight,” Brad said. His tone was neutral, but Jesse still felt his face flush.
“Yeah.”

“You seeing Val?”

Jesse’s heart stopped, then started up again. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Which was probably good, because he had no idea what to say.

“It’s okay, Jesse.”

“Is it?” he croaked.
Brad shrugged. “You’re not the only gay man working for the revue.” “No?” He didn’t seem capable of full sentences.

“There’s Mike, Val, you.” He ignored Jesse’s wince. “One or two others.” “Who?”
Brad shook his head. “It’s not my place to say.”
“No, that’s right. Sorry,” Jesse said, relieved. If Brad wouldn’t tell him about the

others, then he wouldn’t tell the others about him. That made sense, right? Brad set his beer aside. “It must be tough on Val, seeing you up onstage.” Jesse dropped his gaze and picked at the label on his bottle. He’d been trying very

hard to avoid thinking about this.
“He doesn’t look like he minds, though,” Brad said speculatively.
“He doesn’t,” Jesse muttered. He rolled the bottle between his palms.

“Is that why he fucked you before you went onstage?”

The bottle fell over, but there wasn’t enough beer in it to spill. Brad righted it and pressed it back into Jesse’s nerveless fingers. Jesse checked to make sure his fingers were actually gripping the bottle.

“We didn’t…” Jesse stopped.

He worked a little more of the label loose, ignoring Brad. Had Val taken him to the storeroom because he was laying claim? Going down on someone wasn’t overtly possessive, but maybe Val was subtler than that. The women didn’t know Jesse had sex just before going onstage, but Val and Jesse knew.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done. It had been in the back of his mind all night, affecting every interaction he’d had since. Maybe that was what Val had intended.

Brad watched him. “You took a big risk tonight. If you’d been caught—”

 

“I know.” Jesse glared at him. Why wouldn’t the damn guy just shut up?

Brad took the hint. They sat in silence as Brad sipped his beer. Jesse looked at his watch, then over to the bar. Val had his head down, filling out some papers, probably cashing out or something. Jesse stared at his empty bottle, willing Val to finish quickly and Brad to drain his beer and leave. He was so far out of his comfort zone he’d need a GPS to find it.

“This job’s hell on relationships,” Brad said.

Jesse looked up, surprised. Brad didn’t usually talk about his personal life, but Jesse had the impression he was single. He hoped they were talking about Brad’s life now and not his.

“Are you…?” Jesse didn’t want to come right out and ask.

“I’m into women.”
“Oh. Are you seeing someone?”
Brad gave him a rueful grin. “Not right now. Like I said. This job’s hell on

relationships.”

 

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” Brad shrugged. “I keep telling myself I won’t find a girlfriend in the audience, but they’re the only women I meet.”
“That’s why you don’t fool around with the customers? Because they’re not good enough?” Jesse bit his lip. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
Brad shrugged. “Hey, my standards aren’t that high. But most of these women are drunken tourists. Plus I feel stupid asking out someone that saw me prancing around onstage with a bunch of mostly naked guys. It’s kind of—” He winced. “Sorry. Guess it’s my turn to put my foot in my mouth.”

Jesse laughed. “We’re even, then.”
Brad smiled back. “I guess neither one of us is interested in zipper trippers.” Jesse didn’t know who invented the phrase, but he’d learned zipper trippers were

women who came to Vegas to party and get laid.
“They sure seem to like you, though,” Brad said.
Jesse swallowed another mouthful of beer, the taste sour on his tongue. In his solo

number Brad dressed as a cop and “arrested” a member of the audience. Every night he had plenty of volunteers willing to be cuffed and led up onstage for a pat down. After the show he was always attentive and pleasant, but the women from the audience never seemed to come on to him the same way they did to Jesse, even though they clustered around Brad, admiring his muscles and asking for his autograph.

“How do you avoid all the hassle?” Jesse asked.

Brad shrugged a shoulder. “If they come on strong, I just look regretful and apologetic. Most times they figure I have a girlfriend or I’m gay, and they back off, no hard feelings.”

Jesse reeled. “You let them think you’re gay?”

“A lot of them expect male dancers to be gay. It’s no big deal.”
“But you’re not.” Jesse couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of pretending to be gay to avoid awkward encounters. Being gay had been the cause of most of his uncomfortable, unpleasant situations. And once or twice the situations had been more than just unpleasant.

Brad raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you pretending to be straight?” Jesse stiffened. “That’s different, and I’m out to my family, my friends.” Brad frowned. “You let the customers think you’re straight. Most of the guys think

so too.”

Most of the guys? Anger helped him push the flare of panic aside. He jutted his chin out aggressively. “I don’t have to tell everyone. It’s none of their business.” He knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help it.

“But you could.” Brad finished his beer. “If you let the women know you’re gay, you’d eliminate most of the flirting. At least the hands-on stuff.”
Jesse noticed Brad didn’t say anything about telling his coworkers.
“That’d make things easier for Val, wouldn’t it?”

Jesse’s tone was sharp. “It wouldn’t make it easier for me.” He made an effort to rein in his anger. He was mad because Brad was right, but he didn’t want to be defined by his orientation. Straight guys weren’t. “I shouldn’t have to come out to strangers every night.”

“No. Guess not,” Brad agreed. He stood and shrugged on his jacket. “But if I danced in a gay strip bar, I’d let those guys know I was straight pretty damn quick.”
“It’s not the same,” Jesse said stubbornly.
“Maybe.” Brad glanced over at Val, who was watching them curiously while he wiped down the bar. “But I’ve had a couple of relationships since I started dancing, and they didn’t survive the job. Just remember to cut Val some slack if he gets a little bent out of shape some nights. It’s tough dating a stripper.”

“Sure.” Jesse didn’t look up, relieved Brad was leaving. A few weeks ago he would have insisted on
dancer in an all-male revue
, but he didn’t bother to correct the man. Lately he’d been feeling more like a stripper than ever. Was that because he was in a relationship now? Or maybe he’d stopped trying to fool himself.

“And stay out of the storeroom,” Brad added.

Jesse’s head snapped up.
“You’re too good a dancer to lose, and people have been fired for a lot less.” Jesse scowled. “If you’re so worried, tell that to Chaz. He’s the one using it like a

motel room.”

 

Brad laughed. “Who do you think gets them fired?”

He’d suspected that ever since Mike told him Nicki had been fired for hitting on the customers, but hearing Brad confirm his suspicions was disturbing.
They’d been both stupid and lucky tonight. He didn’t know what the hell Val had been thinking, but Jesse hadn’t been thinking at all.
Brad sobered. “Look. Chaz tried out for Chippendales a couple of times, but he didn’t make it, so he keeps pushing, trying to improve the show, get a bigger budget, better dancers. All that frustrated ambition makes him act like an asshole sometimes.”
Jesse tried to process this new information. He couldn’t imagine Chaz confessing Chippendales had rejected him. Not voluntarily. “Are you and Chaz friends?”
Brad snorted. “Chaz doesn’t have friends, but we’ve worked together for a few years. He comes a little unglued when he thinks someone’s messing with his precious show, so stay out of trouble, and for God’s sake, don’t mention Chippendales unless you’d like to be unemployed. No one’s supposed to know about that.”