Private Dancer
by Aries
Mulder moved amongst the tables and dropped down into a chair
next to the man who'd befriended him since he started coming to
this place five months ago.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Dead again."
"Yup." The man turned to him. "And it's about to have two less
patrons."
"What d'you mean?"
"I found out why business is dropping off."
"Yeah?"
"Uh huh." The man leaned forward, not wanting any of the
remaining regulars to hear. "The place across town has a new
feature dancer. Word is he's worth the thirty buck cover charge and
then some."
"Thirty?"
"Yeah. I hear that he doesn't fake anything, if you know what I
mean. Come, man. Let's go see what all the buzz is about."
"I don't know, Ray."
"Come on! I waited here purposely for you. You gotta go with
me. He only dances on Saturday night." The man rose from his
chair, coaxing his companion to do the same.
Mulder sighed. "All right, all right. Let's go see what's so special
about this guy."
His friend gave him the address, and they left in separate vehicles.
Mulder drove in silence to the club, as usual, preferring his own
depressing thoughts to the sound of the radio...
It had been eight months since the fall of the Consortium. Many of
those involved disappeared without a trace; some were found dead
under the most suspicious of circumstances...one showed up at his
apartment three nights later.
Mulder let him in, not knowing what else to do.
He said he'd come to say goodbye and congratulate Mulder on his
well-earned victory. How they ended up naked, with Mulder trying
to fuck him through the living room wall, was beyond either of
them. Not long after, he pulled the still-recovering Mulder into the
bedroom, threw him down onto the bed, and proceeded to give him
the ride of his life.
Sometime in the very early morning, when sheer exhaustion finally
forced them to stop, the two men dropped onto their backs, side by
side, covered in sweat, chests heaving.
Several minutes passed before the companionable silence turned
uncomfortable.
The other rose unsteadily to his feet and began to get dressed.
Mulder asked him where he was going.
"Places to go, a life to find," was the soft answer.
Mulder lay quietly, watching him dress, searching for something to
say, but ultimately remained silent.
He hesitated briefly, said a soft goodbye, then slipped out of the
room, and the apartment.
Eight months later, Mulder hadn't laid eyes on him, hadn't spoken
to him...wasn't even sure he was still in the country...or still alive,
for that matter. And the wondering drove him crazy.
The memory of that night stayed vividly clear in Mulder's mind. The
smell of him. The taste of his skin...the feel of him so deep inside
haunted him night after night. But he'd left, making it clear that his
desires went no further than those few hours.
And now Mulder was left to deal with the aftermath. No help. No
comfort. Certainly no explanation. Not even work offered him any
solace. After the dissolution of the Consortium, there was nothing
left but the usual assortment of mutants, apparitions, and UFO
sightings. Where things such as these had held a tremendous
amount of interest for him at one time, they were simply just
another case for him now.
He began to seek extracurricular distraction, frequenting gay bars
and strip clubs, always in search of that something he seemed to be
missing, but never quite finding it. He settled on one club, The Blue
Moon, and was soon befriended by Ray...the man who was now
dragging him clear across the city to see the new feature dancer that
everybody and his grandfather was talking about. And the thing that
killed him was...he was going.
Jesus Christ, is your life so pathetic?
He turned into the full parking lot.
Well... no open spots. Just go home.
He drove out of the lot and around the corner. There, on the street,
was a space large enough for him to back into.
Ah, fuck. I guess your life is that pathetic.
He parked the car and walked up to the club. Ray waved at him
from the doorway.
"Jesus, when I saw you drive out of the parking lot, I thought you'd
changed your mind."
"I almost did."
"But?"
Mulder shrugged. "I figured, what the hell? I drove all this way, I
might as well go in and have a drink, at least."
Ray grinned and stepped aside, allowing him to enter first.
The place was nice. Much nicer than The Blue Moon. Bigger. More
seating, but as the place was standing room only, it didn't much
matter.
The two men moved to a spot by the bar, ordered their drinks, and
looked around. They recognized a good number of faces from their
regular haunt, but many more were strangers to them. Mulder
attracted a good deal of attention but ignored the stares and
attempts at conversation.
The buzz in the room grew to a deafening pitch as the clock
approached ten. The excitement took on an almost physical quality,
and then as the stage fell into darkness, the noise stopped. A soft
voice, speaking just a bit above the sensuous thrum of the music,
announced the evening's featured dancer.
"What did he say the guy's name was, Ray?"
Mulder's companion gave no answer. His eyes were glued to the
stage, now just barely lit to reveal a large, wrought iron bed and
nothing more.
Mulder shook his head, smiling at his friend, and turned his
attention to the stage. The lights came up a bit more, and now an
object could be seen resting atop the pillows. As Mulder squinted,
trying to determine what it was, movement out of the left corner of
his eye distracted him.
A man, still drenched in shadow, prowled onto the stage.
Tall. Dark. Not the usual stripper's attire he was used to. This man
looked like he'd just parked his motorcycle outside and walked in
off the street. There was an arrogance to his demeanor that sent a
surge of electricity straight through the middle of Mulder's body,
hardening him to the point of discomfort. The reaction shocked
him. He hadn't felt a charge like that since him.
Shit, and he hasn't even done anything yet. Okay, so maybe he
will be worth the cover charge.
Slowly, the stage came into focus, and Mulder's attention was
drawn away from the man, back to the bed and the object which
was now clearer. His eyebrows drew down into a distinct frown as
he realized that the object was a stuffed fox. Not a cheap, dimestore
toy but a finely crafted, as-real-looking-as-you-can-get, stuffed fox.
Mulder's eyes darted back to the man who was now beside the bed,
moving in time to the music, sliding his hands over his body and up
through the hair that was longer than Mulder remembered it.
Alex.
His lips hadn't moved... he was sure that no sound had left his
throat, yet the name resonated in his head as though he had
screamed it. He stood motionless, watching as the man on stage
slipped out of his black leather jacket and let it drop to the floor. He
moved to the bed, lifting one leg and kneeling on the mattress. He
grasped the wrought iron footboard and thrust his hips forward,
rubbing and grinding his crotch against the bar. The pale spotlight
fell across his writhing body and face, that beautiful, beautiful face,
contorted in near-orgasmic pleasure.
Mulder's cock throbbed in his pants, matching the rhythm of the
pounding in his head. His breath caught and held in his throat as the
performer spun onto the bed, lying on his back with his head
toward the foot of the bed. He spread his legs, straddling the
pillows atop which sat the fox. He writhed and arched his back,
taking hold of the crew collar of the black t-shirt. His fingers
tightened in the material, then pulled, ripping the shirt down the
front. His hands roamed over his bared chest and on down, moving
to the prominent bulge in his skin-tight jeans. He stroked himself
through the denim, then rose to his knees in front of the fox. He
closed his eyes and threw his head back, undoing the button and
drawing the zipper down. Slowly, he did away with the jeans and
the rest of his clothing, then turned and lay back against the pillows,
his head nestled next to the stuffed animal. He teased himself and
the crowd, bringing one hand to a hard nipple, pulling and
squeezing, while the other stroked his rigid cock.
The audience held its collective breath as his movements became
more frantic and loud gasps could be heard above the music. Faster,
his hand pumped the long shaft, and the gasps became cries as he
arched off the bed and came, shooting up over his fist and stomach.
Mulder watched entranced as the fatigued man collapsed back onto
the mattress. He rolled onto his side, winding his arm around the
fox and burying his face into its side, as the stage faded into
blackness, and the audience erupted into thunderous applause.
"Ho-ly shit," Ray shouted, whistling and clapping enthusiastically.
He glanced over at his companion, who stood stunned, staring at
the black stage.
"Hey!"
Mulder blinked and turned around to face his friend.
Ray laughed. "Guess you're glad now that you came, huh? He's
incredible, isn't he? No wonder everybody is down here on
Saturdays. But I wonder what the deal is with the stuffed animal?"
"Don't know," the bartender heard and responded. "But it's in every
set with him. It's got some meaning, but he never says what."
Mulder finally found his voice. "Do you...do you do private dances
here?"
"Oh, yeah. There are rooms upstairs."
"Does he do them?"
"Who? Alex?"
"Yeah...Alex."
"Yeah. But he don't come cheap. And there's always a list a mile
long for 'im."
Mulder chewed his bottom lip. "What's he going for?"
"Are you shittin' me?" Ray roared. "You're actually thinking about
doing this?"
Mulder looked from Ray to the bartender. "So?"
"Seventy-five bucks for ten minutes. That's just for a dance.
Extras go for a hundred and ten. Rooms range from twenty-five
to two hundred an hour."
"Thanks."
"Hey!" Ray called after the retreating man. "Where are you going?"
"I'll catch you later, Ray."
Mulder exited the club, only to return half an hour later. He walked
up to the bar and asked to see the owner. The bartender pointed
him to the middle-aged man in the blue suit, speaking with a couple
of waiters. He approached and waited politely while the man
finished giving his instructions to the pair. When they walked away,
he stepped forward.
"Excuse me."
The man turned in Mulder's direction and looked him up and down.
A wide smile curved his mouth. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to arrange for a private dance."
"Sure! Anybody in particular?"
"Alex."
The man laughed. "I don't even know why I asked. He gets
ninety-five percent of the business, and the other five percent take
other guys because they're too horny to wait. Uh...I can put you on
the list. Might be a few days..."
"Not good enough. I want him tonight."
"Yeah, you and everybody else in this joint."
"What's your price?"
"Alex goes for..."
"I know what he goes for. I want him for two hours..."
"Two hours?"
"....and I want your best room. Tonight."
"You're talking seventeen hundred, normally. If you gotta have
him tonight, I'm going to have to double that. At least. You
know the amount of people this is going to piss off?"
Mulder counted off five thousand dollars and left it on the table
beside them. "Do you care?"
"Uh..." The owner looked down at the pile. "Not really." He pulled
a card out of his pocket. "Take this. Show it to the guy at the top of
the stairs, and he'll show you to your room. I'll have Alex in to you
soon. Have a good time, and just keep one thing in mind. He
doesn't like to be touched."
Mulder took the card, nodded to the man, and proceeded up the
stairs. Minutes later, he was sipping a glass of wine in the largest
and most elaborately furnished of the four rooms.
"Forget it, Howard," Alex lounged in the comfort of his dressing
room, his hand absently petting the stuffed fox that rested on top of
the back of the sofa.
"What d'you mean, forget it? This guy dished out some major green
for you, Alex. He's waiting upstairs."
"Nobody but fat, greasy businessmen from out of town throw out
the big bucks. And for two fucking hours? I'm sure as hell not
going to be dancing all that time." He gave a slow shake of his sable
head. "No way. You remember the last time? I told you I wouldn't
let any of them touch me again, and I meant it. Now, if you have a
problem with that, I'll just walk right now..."
"No. No, no. You don't understand. This ain't no fat, greasy
businessman. Believe me, I've learned my lesson. It's a miracle we
didn't get sued for what you did to that guy. This one's young. Your
age, maybe. Fucking gorgeous. You just might enjoy it."
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed softly. "Okay. But
I'm telling you, Howard, if he so much as lays a hand on me..."
Howard grinned. "That's my boy."
Alex rose from the sofa and walked to the closet, pulling out a pair
of black pants and a black silk shirt. "I'm not your boy."
Mulder sat quietly in the sparsely lit room. His eyes rose to the
door as it swung open. The man entered, eyes cast downward. He
closed the door behind him and walked directly over to the CD
player.
"How about some sound?"
No answer.
"Okay, I'll just take that as a yes." He loaded a few disks, and
almost immediately, the air was filled with soft music. He closed his
eyes, immersing himself in seductive rhythm. His body began to
sway ever so slightly, and he took a long, deep breath and released
it. "What do you want me to do for you?"
"I don't know," the soft monotone startled Alex. "What does five
grand get me?"
Alex whirled around to face the owner of the voice he'd recognize
anywhere. His eyes registered his shock. "What...what are you
doing here?"
"Friend of mine told me about this dancer. Spectacular," he said. So
I came down to check it out. His eyes slid over Alex's body. "He
was right. You were magnificent. So magnificent that I just had to
have a private performance."
Alex shook his head. "What do you really want, Mulder?"
The seated man shrugged. "I told you. I want you to dance for me.
I want to see all those sexy moves up close." He raised his glass.
"Come on. I want your best performance. I've certainly paid enough
for it."
"Mulder..."
"Hmm?"
"Go home. I'll ask Howard to refund your money."
"Oh, no. No way. You're bought and paid for, for two hours."
"You don't want to do this."
"Yeah... I do. Come on. Show me what scores of horny men are
waiting in line for."
Alex stared down at him, restrained anger and hurt glittering in his
eyes. He backed up a step and began to dance, never taking his eyes
off of Mulder's. The fingers of one hand went to his shirt, slowly
undoing the buttons, while the other raked through his hair. When
the shirt hung open, he turned his back to his one man audience,
jerking the shirt down, leaving it to hang from his forearms, curving
just below his waist.
Mulder watched every move...every flex of every muscle in that
nicely sculpted back as his dancer gave him a show he'd tuck away
in his memory, right beside that one night they'd spent together so
many months ago.
Alex spun back to face him, hand dropping to the waistband of his
pants, slowly undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, as he
stalked toward Mulder. He stopped inches away from the seated
man's spread legs and turned again, slithering out of the black
pants.
Mulder sucked in a quick breath, fighting against the urge to reach
out and touch the tight, tanned ass that moved so enticingly before
him. Just before he lost the battle, Alex turned around again and
pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his shirt, whipping the garment
at Mulder's face. The shirt dropped in a heap to his lap, and he
made no move to touch it. His eyes remained glued on the pools of
glimmering green as Alex danced before him now, clad only in a
black g-string.
Alex closed his eyes, unable to meet Mulder's heated gaze, as he
launched into the next part of his performance. Starting at his
shoulder, he licked a long, steady path down his arm, ending with
the back of his hand. The hand slid away from his mouth, across his
jaw, turned, and continued down his throat, chest and belly, then
brushed against the bulge which was barely covered by the scrap of
black velvet. He moved forward, straddling Mulder's lap, and
holding on to the back of the chair with one hand, he began a lewd
bump and grind, just inches from his audience's face.
Mulder looked up, seeing a tiny sliver of green beneath the veil of
thick lashes. The perfectly bowed lips were pulled back in a
sensuous snarl, making visible the sparkling white teeth behind
them. Mulder's eyes dropped shut for a moment as he remembered
the feel of those teeth clamped on his flesh...
He focused again on the man in front of him, who now had his hand
inside the black velvet, stroking and squeezing himself.
That was it.
He shoved Alex away and toppled the chair as he rose out of it. He
reached out, circling the stunned man's wrist, and jerked him
forward against his chest.
"What?" Alex panted, only millimeters from the other man's mouth.
"Had enough?"
"Oh, no," Mulder threw back. "This isn't even close to being over. I
don't mind paying top dollar, but I do want my money's worth.
Every. Cent."
"Then let me go so I can continue."
"Answer a question for me first... why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you out here doing this?"
Alex shrugged. "I used to come in here quite a bit. Had a few
drinks, danced with a few guys... Howard came up to me one day
and said he liked my look. He liked the way I moved, and he asked
me if I ever thought about making a career out of it. I figured, what
the hell? Might be good for a few kicks... wasn't like I had any
better offers."
Mulder's jaw repeatedly tightened and relaxed.
Alex rocked his hips from side to side, brushing his cock against the
crisp material of Mulder's pants. "Come on, you're fucking up the
mood..."
"Kicks? You're telling me that you do this for kicks."
"Yeah... and you know... the money ain't bad."
Mulder eyed him intently. "Looked like you were enjoying the hell
out of yourself, earlier. You always so into it?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"Tell me what it is you get off on. What do you think about when
you're up there?"
He saw the slight change in Alex's expression.
"I don't know..."
"You must know. Are you thinking about how every eye in the
place is on you? Does it make you hot to know that those men
would kill each other for a piece of you?" Mulder's hand slid over
the hard curve of Alex's ass. "Or is it the thought of just one man
that gets you so hard?"
Alex's gaze dropped to the point between them where skin met
cocoa brown shirt. "Didn't Howard tell you the rule? No touching."
Mulder's fingers dug into the tight muscle. "Yeah, he told me. But it
doesn't really apply to me, does it?"
No answer.
"Come on, Alex. Tell me. I want to hear you say that it's me you're
jerking off for, every time you're up there."
Alex continued to avoid his eyes. "Can't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because it isn't you."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Fucking liar. That fox you have with you in every performance is
more than a little obvious."
Alex spat out a harsh laugh. "Get over yourself, Mulder."
"Why? Apparently, you haven't gotten over me."
"It was one damn night," Alex argued. "What was to get over?"
"It affected you the same way it did me," Mulder whispered,
brushing his mouth against Alex's cheek. "We were both just too
stupid to admit it."
Alex pushed away from him. "God, are you way off track." He
glanced at the small clock on the table in one corner of the room.
"You've got a little more than an hour left," he said softly, then
walked over to the bed. He seated himself at the edge, then slid
back against the pillows. One hand swept down his chest, pausing
to brush slowly over a nipple. "Come over here and let me give you
your money's worth. Just don't tell Howard. If word gets out, the
customers'll all expect the same."
Mulder stood with his back to the man on the bed. He stared down
at the floor for long moments, then shook his head. "Get dressed."
Alex cocked his head, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"
"Get dressed. It's my time, and I'll decide how to spend it."
Alex heaved himself off the bed, bumping Mulder's arm with his
own as he brushed past him.
Mulder turned, nonchalantly shuffling though the CDs, while Alex
put his clothes on. Once fully dressed, he moved quietly toward the
door.
"Where are you going?"
The younger man looked at him, anger dissolving into confusion. "I
thought..."
"Don't think, okay?" He removed the CD that Alex had put in the
player and replaced it. "Just come over here."
Alex approached, stopping at least two feet in front of the other
man. Mulder curled his fingers in the front of the black shirt, and
pulled him forward. When their bodies were touching, Mulder's
arms slipped around his waist.
"You've danced for me," he moaned against Alex's lips, "now how
about you dance with me."
Tentatively, Alex's arms circled around his neck, and they began to
move together, one body fitting perfectly to the other.
One of Mulder's hands slid down a few inches, rubbing and gently
squeezing Alex's ass, pulling him against the solid heat of his groin.
They rocked together with flawless precision, each man holding the
other captive with his eyes. Somehow, Alex managed to gather
enough composure to ask a question.
"What is this?"
Mulder's eyelids drooped as he drew a long breath and let it out.
"What's what?"
"This. One minute you want me to give you everything I've got,
then the next, you tell me to get dressed, and we're here doing what
we could be doing downstairs..and it wouldn't be costing you five
grand."
"I just..I suddenly realized that I don't want to fuck you in the
upstairs room of a strip joint, leave a fat tip under the pillow, then
go home and leave you here."
"You make it sound like I live here. I don't, you know, I have an
apartment. A very nice one."
"I didn't mean..I just..." Mulder's head dropped forward so that
their foreheads rested together. "Alex, I'm sorry. I was just so
pissed at you for leaving that night. When I saw you here, I didn't
know how to react. That fox really knocked me for a loop. I
thought all this time I was the only one thinking about what had
happened. I got pissed again when I realized that you apparently
had some feeling for me, you knew damn well where to find me, yet
you chose to stay away..."
Alex bowed his head. "I thought I should. I mean... I don't hang
around if I'm not asked to."
"I know. I should have opened my mouth. I tried, but nothing
would come out. I screwed up. And now I'm here, screwing up
again."
"How?"
"I should never have gone about it this way. I just should've gone to
you and asked to talk. I didn't mean to hurt you by paying for
your time."
"You didn't hurt me."
Mulder gave him a dubious stare.
"Okay, maybe you hurt me a little. It's okay." Alex rubbed his cheek
against Mulder's. "You fixed it."
Mulder shook his head. "Not yet. Let me make it up to you."
"It's all right, Mulder..."
"Fox."
"What?"
"I'd like it if you called me Fox."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"All right..." Alex brushed his lips across the other man's. "...Fox..."
His mouth opened, prompting Fox to sweep inside, stroking and
probing the soft interior.
Fox moaned into Alex's mouth. Eight months later, he was amazed
at how his body remembered the taste of this man. His tongue
sought out its willing partner, tangling with it, then drawing back,
allowing it access to his own warm interior.
Alex explored Fox's mouth at a leisurely pace, drinking in many a
whimper. His hands began to move, one tangling in his hair, and the
other gently caressing the length of his back. Their bodies
continued to sway together as Alex slowly backed him to the bed.
Fox pulled away from the demanding mouth. "No. Alex, wait."
Alex stopped moving. "What... Fox... you want me, don't you?"
"God, yes. But not here. Come home with me, Alex." He took
a quick breath. "And I don't mean just for tonight."
Alex frowned slightly, cocking his head. "For how long?"
"As long as you want to be there."
Alex studied him for a moment. "What about this?"
"What about it?"
"What if I want to keep dancing?"
"Do you?"
"...No. After the first night, I realized I was just doing it to let off
steam. I was so fucking frustrated."
"I know. I went to shows for the same reason."
"Didn't help, did it?"
Fox shook his head. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here."
Alex looked over at the clock and grinned. "Your time isn't up yet."
Fox followed his gaze. "That's okay. It's bad enough we've wasted
an hour and forty minutes." He took Alex by the hand and led him
to the door.
"Your place or mine?"
Hazel eyes glittered with anticipation. "Which is closer?"
"Mine."
"Yours it is."
The two men descended the steps, fingers intertwined. Alex led the
way through the crowd, drawing the attention of every man in
sight. Seemingly oblivious, he pulled Fox toward his dressing room.
"What are we doing here?" Fox asked, once they were inside.
"Just got to get a few things, then we can go see Howard."
"He's going to be upset. You're his star."
Alex gathered up his jacket, a few objects from the dressing table,
and his stuffed fox. He walked up to the man standing by the door,
pressing their bodies together. He rubbed his head against the
underside of Fox's jaw. "Don't want to be his star."
Fox kissed the top of his head. "Let's go."
They exited the room, having to wind their way through the crowd
that had assembled near the door. Alex kept moving, holding on to
Fox's hand, keeping him close behind.
No one touched him. They knew the rule and adhered to it.
Touching Alex would get the offender banned from the club for a
month or more, depending on the severity of the transgression, and
no one was about to take that chance.
Alex spotted Howard at the other end of the club near the bar and
made his way toward him.
"Howard... Howard!"
The man turned around. Spotting Alex, he checked his watch.
"What are you doing down here already?" His eyes fell to the
stuffed fox. "And why are you carrying that thing around?"
Alex pulled Fox up beside him. "Uh... Howard... I gotta talk to you."
Howard looked from one man to the other. "Alex, what did
you... sir, do you have a complaint?"
Fox burst into laughter, then wrapped an arm around Alex's waist,
pulling him back against his chest. "My only complaint at the
moment is that this is taking too damn long. Let's go," he growled
into the back of Alex's neck.
"Okay, okay," Alex whispered. "Uh, Howard... I quit."
Howard broke into laughter, then began to choke when he realized
that Alex wasn't kidding.
"You... you can't! Alex, please! What the hell happened in the last
two hours to make you decide..." His gaze flicked to the man who
had wrapped himself around his star performer. "Oh. Oh, shit.
Listen, Alex, whatever he's offered you, I'll double it. I'll build you a
bigger dressing room...anything you want, only please don't leave
me."
"Howard, listen. It's not what you think. I'm not leaving you for
another club." Alex shrugged. "I'm retiring."
"Retiring? Alex, what the hell went on up there?" Howard
turned his irritation on Fox. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You come in here, throw five grand down and tell me
you need to have Alex tonight. I graciously oblige you, and
this is what happens?"
"Howard, shut up a minute, would you? Let me explain."
"Explain? What's to explain? My star is quitting on me..my
business is toast..my life is over..."
"A new dancer comes along every day. You'll find one better."
"Yeah..right."
"Howard, you know how you're always bugging me to tell you why
I'm always so unhappy and dissatisfied?"
"Yeah..."
"It was because of him." Alex motioned with his head to the man
behind him. "We were separated, and it drove me crazy."
"So you knew each other."
"Howard... this is Fox."
"And this should mean something to me?"
Alex shook his head. "Are you that dense?"
"Shit!" The bartender heard and understood. "Fox,
Howard... Fox."
"Christ, is that really your..." Howard glanced down at the stuffed
animal that Alex hugged to his chest. "Shit! Oh, shit!"
"Took you long enough."
"Do you know how long people have been speculating on the
significance of that thing? Jesus." He went back to whining. "Okay,
I'm glad you're back together. Take a weekend off... go away
together and have a great time on me, but... Alex... please... why
do you have to quit?"
"It was never something I felt comfortable with in the first place."
"You could have fooled me... and everybody else in this place."
"I gotta go, Howard."
"Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God..."
"Breathe, Howard, breathe. It'll be okay. I'll see you around."
Over the span of that five-minute conversation, news of Alex's
retirement had spread like wildfire, as did the resolution of the 'fox'
mystery. A sea of disappointed faces lined their path as they left,
some graciously wishing him well, others simply displaying desolate
stares as the men walked toward the back door.
"Hey!" A lone voice sounded in the crowd, turning a number of
heads.
Fox stopped, pulling Alex back to his side. "Ray!"
As the other man wound his way through the mass, his eyes opened
wider, and his jaw dropped lower. "Shit!" He looked from his friend
to the man who had held him entranced not more than three hours
before. "Hey, man, I just heard..." he looked again at Alex who was
now standing pressed against Fox, cheek resting on his shoulder,
hand stroking up and down his arm. "...holy shit..."
"Ray. Listen, buddy, I gotta thank you for making me come here."
"Yeah... uh... you're welcome... I guess."
"I don't know if I'll see you again, so..." Fox held his hand out. Ray
grasped it limply, and they shook.
"Listen... man... I gotta ask you something. Can we..."
Fox allowed himself to be led a couple of feet away from his lover.
He looked back, holding his index finger up. Alex nodded, his
attention never wandering from Fox, despite the attempts from
members of the crowd to get him to look their way.
"So... it's you? This whole fox thing?''
"Apparently."
"All this time and I never even knew your first name. Damn." Ray
shook his head. "So, let me get this straight. You two were
involved at one time?"
"Yeah. We... lost touch."
"How the fuck could you lose touch with that? Were you on
medication or something?"
"It's a long, complicated story, Ray. Just suffice it to say, we're
back together, and it's due in large part to you."
"And that's it? He's quitting, and the two of you are just going to
ride off into the sunset?"
"It's night time. But, yes, we're out of here. Going to see if we can
get it right this time."
"God. Okay, well, good luck. I wish you the best, buddy, I really
do." Ray laughed. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen
you looking happy."
Fox nodded. "I gotta go."
"Oh... yeah... by all means. I wouldn't want to keep him waiting,
either."
Fox gave his friend another nod and a smile, then turned and made
his way back to Alex. Once he reached his destination, he pulled the
younger man up against his body, and laid a long, hungry kiss on
his lips.
"Ready?"
Alex ground his crotch against Fox's hip. What do you think?"
"I think it'll be a miracle if we make it out of the parking lot," the
older man muttered under his breath. "Let's go."
Once outside, they made straight for Alex's car and stopped at the
driver's side. Alex unlocked the door, and stored the items he
carried inside. He turned to the man who stood quietly beside him,
eyeing him with restrained hunger. "Where's your car?"
"I couldn't find a space in the lot, so I had to park around the
corner."
"Well, come on, I'll take you to it."
Fox folded himself into the sportscar, complaining good naturedly.
"Jesus Christ, Alex, is this thing small enough?"
"Yeah, I know. But it's so cool..."
Alex pulled out of the back lot reserved for employees and drove
around the corner to Fox's car. The other man reached across the
seat and slowly ran his hand from Alex's jaw, down to the very
warm bulge in his pants. He kneaded Alex's cock gently, heard the
soft moan, then gave him an evil grin and moved from one car to
the other.
Waiting until Fox started to pull away from the curb, Alex drove
off, leading the way to his apartment, which turned out to be less
than ten minutes away. He parked his car, and as he was getting
out, the Ford sedan pulled up alongside.
Fox killed the engine and stepped out of the car. The minute the
door was closed, he found himself pressed up against it and a solid
heat pushing against his ass. A warm, moist tongue feathered the
back of his neck.
"Keep that up," he murmured, "and we're not going to make it up
to your apartment.
Alex pressed rhythmically against his backside in turn, pushing him
into the door.
"Alex..."
"Hmm?"
"Wouldn't you rather be doing this while we were both naked?"
"Sure. I'll take my clothes off if you take yours off..."
"I meant upstairs."
"Oh. Yeah, I suppose." He pushed against Fox once more...hard,
then grasped his hand and led him to the elevator. They spent the
forty-five second ride kissing hungrily and groping each other. As
soon as the door opened, Alex pulled Fox out and down the hall to
his door. He shoved the key in the lock, threw the door open, and
yanked the other man inside.
"Nice," Fox murmured, wandering through the living room, looking
around.
"Yeah. How about a tour?" Alex grabbed Fox by the front of his
shirt and headed out of the room. "Let's start with the bedroom."
He hauled Fox in through the open door and shoved him back onto
the bed. In a heartbeat Alex was on him, sprawled over his chest,
feeding voraciously on his mouth.
Fox reached up, tugging at the buttons on Alex's shirt. Alex began
to reciprocate, but at the third button, changed his mind. He pulled
away from his lover's mouth and grinned down at him. There was
evil on his mind, Fox had no doubt of that.
"What?"
Alex rolled to his feet, pulling the other man up after him. He left
Fox standing by the bed while he loaded the portable CD player
that he kept on his dresser. As soon as the room filled with soft
music, he came back to Fox, planting a fast, fierce kiss on his lips,
then he leapt onto the bed. Settling back against a stack of pillows,
he reached into his back pocket, pulling his wallet out.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Alex smirked at him, pulling a bill out and tossing it at him. "Take it
off, baby."
"What?" Then he realized. "Oh, no. You're out of your mind."
"Why?"
"I'm not dancing for you."
Alex pulled out another bill and tossed it in his direction. "Come
on..."
"Alex, I don't dance."
"Bullshit. You were moving pretty damn well at the club. Gave me
a hard-on the size of all outdoors. Now, let's see what you got."
A five fluttered past Fox's face. "Alex..."
Still seated on the bed, Alex swayed in time to the music. "Let's see
how you work that ass, baby."
Like a charmed cobra, Fox began to unconsciously mimic Alex's
movements. "I'm not going to do it."
"Yes, you will," Alex's voice lowered to a throaty purr. "Let me see
what you see when you watch me. Come on, do it for me."
Fox took a slow, deep breath, and as he released it, his eyes closed
and he began to move.
A smile curved Alex's lips. Mesmerized, he watched the sensuous
ebb and flow of muscle beneath his lover's clothing as he glided
around the room, undoing first one cuff of his shirt, then the other.
He spun, facing the bed, and slowly rotating his hips, raised his
hands to the button that Alex had stopped at. He held his lover's
eyes as he started to slip the small disk through the hole, then
paused. Another bill floated his way, and he gripped the material,
jerking his hands in opposite directions. There was a brief tinkling
sound as buttons flew everywhere, hitting the dresser, the wall, and
finally the floor.
Alex clapped and whistled softly, encouraging Fox to continue.
And he did, ripping the shirt from his body, and tossing it away. He
backed up to the end of the bed, kicking off his shoes, then going to
work on his pants. The top button gave quickly, but he inched the
zipper down at an agonizingly slow pace, stopping and
starting... drawing it halfway back up after he'd had it all the way
down. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and
shimmied the material down his lean hips at the same infuriating
pace at which he'd done his zipper.
Alex's cock pounded in his jeans, and he fought to keep his
respiration even. He wondered if this was what all those men felt... if
it was what Fox felt tonight, when he was on stage, performing. He
refocused on his lover, who was now standing with his back to the
bed, slipping his pants and socks off, giving Alex a very nice view
of his ass, still encased in a pair of black boxer-briefs.
Fox straightened up and turned to face Alex once again. His arms
crossed loosely behind his neck, and his body rocked and swayed in
time to the music, earning another flurry of cash. His hands slid
along the base of his neck, to his chest, and on down, thumbs
circling his nipples briefly, before continuing down and breaking
away just before they reached the impressive bulge in his
underwear. He kneeled at the end of the bed, then dropped to his
hands, crawling forward as Alex enticed him with a twenty,
dangling from his thumb and forefinger. When he got close enough
to take it, Alex quickly stuffed the bill down the front of his already
unbuttoned jeans. Fox gave the other man a wicked grin, then
lowered his head, grasping the zipper in his teeth. He pulled, and
tugged, and worked the small piece of metal along the track, until it
reached the end. He nosed his way past the worn material, stopping
to nuzzle the soft scrap of velvet that barely covered Alex's
erection. He stopped, hearing the soft moans of pleasure, and
clamped his teeth onto the bill. He pulled it out and dropped it to
the mattress beside the younger man's leg. In a series of fluid
movements, he was on his back, head nestled against Alex's cock,
and was writhing out of his underwear.
Alex took a number of deep, steadying breaths, trying desperately
not to touch Fox, to let him set the pace, but his resolve was
compromised a bit more with every twist... every thrust of his hips.
Fox sensed Alex's difficulty and lifted himself away, turning again
to lay on his belly beside the younger man. He grasped a pillow,
folding it in two and stuffing it under his hips.
Alex stared, slack-jawed, as Fox proceeded to rock and thrust into
the pillow. He raised his upper body, supporting himself on his
hands, and bore down again and again.
"Jesus Christ," was all the stunned younger man could whisper as
he watched Fox literally fuck his pillow. When he could take no
more, he yanked his clothing off, then pulled the pillow from
beneath Fox's hips. "You want to do that," he gasped and lay flat on
the mattress, "do it to me."
With little more than a clipped growl, Fox fell on him and
positioned himself.
"Wait... wait."
"For what?"
Alex tangled his fingers in the golden-brown hair. "I want it hard,
and I want it fast...we need lube." He reached across the short
distance to his nightstand drawer and pulled from it a long white
tube. He quickly unscrewed the cap, squeezed a large amount into
his hand, and pulled Fox up far enough to reach his cock. He
applied the gel, ignoring the faint moans, then threw the tube back
into the drawer. "Okay, baby. Do it."
Fox guided his cock to the small opening and inched inside. Alex
gasped with every thrust, and once he was completely embedded in
the tight heat, he began to move, doing it just the way Alex had
asked him to. He held his lover's hips in a bruising grip and rammed
into him again and again.
Alex's head pressed back into the pillows, and he cried out in pain
and pleasure. His fingers wrapped around his own cock and began
to milk it frantically, knowing from Fox's own anguished moans,
that he was just seconds from orgasm.
Fox pounded furiously into his lover until he felt the explosion take
him over. He fell onto Alex's chest, screaming and gasping for air.
He felt Alex's hand still moving between their bodies, then the
warm gush of fluid, as his choked cries filled the room.
As soon as Fox gathered the strength to move, he rolled off of
Alex, taking his place beside his lover's warm, satiated body. Alex
kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and smiled wearily at
him.
"I'm going to call Howard tomorrow."
"Huh?"
Alex laughed softly, reaching over to his wallet and pulling the
remaining bills from it. He tossed them into the air, letting them
float down over Fox's perspiration-covered body. "I've found my
replacement."
Fox smiled and tucked himself into Alex's side. "Shut up."
"I'm serious. You'd make a killing... can I be your manager?"
Tired sigh. "Yeah... sure. Whatever you want."
Alex kissed him again and yawned. "One thing, though... no private
dances."
"No?"
"Uh-uh." He wrapped an arm around Fox, pulling him closer. "That
card is permanently filled."
The air reeked of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. The dim lighting
revealed a sparsely populated room. Third Saturday in a row.
Curious.
