A Dance with Domination E-Book

K.C. Wells

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 376

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Collars and Cuffs: Book Four Recently returned to the UK after living in the States since he was eleven, Andrew Barrett is determined to keep busy and make a new life for himself. He works full time as a copywriter and strips at a club on Canal Street on weekends. But it still leaves him too much time to think. Then he finds the BDSM club, Collars & Cuffs, where at twenty-nine, he is their youngest Dom. Young doesn't mean inexperienced, however. All this activity keeps him focused with no time to dwell on the past. But the past has a way of intruding on the present. It's been four long years since Gareth Michaels last set foot inside Collars & Cuffs. But when he finally summons his courage and steps back into his former world, he finds the man who drove him away is still a member, and what's more, he wants Gareth back. Two men in pain need the freedom they find in each other, but it takes another man's horrific plans to make them see it.

Leseprobe

Readers Love K.C. Wells’s

An Unlocked Heart

“You need to experience K.C. Wells’ style and knowledge for yourself. And you need to get ready for the ride of your life, because whenAn Unlocked Heartis opened, it’s the hottest sex ever. Forcibly, strenuously, lustily recommended.”

—The Novel Approach

“K.C. Wells hits all my favorite bells and whistles in a BDSM novel: characters to care about, interesting kinks and fetishes, hot sex, an actual plot that flows throughout the story, a beginning that captures my attention, a middle that holds it, and an ending that finalizes the book in a very satisfying way.”

—Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

“An Unlocked Heartby K.C. Wells is a solid, well written love story. I think, dear reader, if you enjoy a good story with a little bit of heat mixed with a smidgen of angst you will find this is the perfect book for you. I thoroughly enjoyed it!”

—Reviews by Jessewave

“I so loved this book. I can’t wait until there’s another. Until that time, K.C. Wells, just know that Leo and Alex have been added to my list of all-time favorite couples.”

—Rainbow Book Reviews

“It’s been a while since a book pushed my buttons like this. And that is the best feeling, at least when you are reading BDSM. It has to be real, it has to be safe, and it has to be consensual… all that and a bit more you´ll get fromAn Unlocked Heart.”

—Gay List Book Reviews

“I couldn’t possibly give this book any less than 5 stars… the bloody thing had me up all night! K.C. Wells has opened up a new world and given me two characters I fell in love with, her writing cannot be described as anything other than excellent….”

—Sinfully Sexy Books

By K.C. WELLS

Love Lessons Learned*

With Parker Williams:

Someone to Keep Me*

COLLARS& CUFFS

An Unlocked Heart*

Trusting Thomas*

A Dance With Domination*

With Parker Williams:

Someone to Keep Me*

LEARNINGTOLOVE

Michael & Sean*

Evan & Daniel*

Josh & Chris*

Published byDREAMSPINNERPRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW Suite 2, PMB# 279 Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Dance with Domination

© 2014 K.C. Wells.

Cover Art

© 2014 Paul Richmond.

http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-62798-889-6

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-890-2

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

May 2014

For the two people who made this book possible:

Max Vos, whose advice I sought almost on a daily basis,

and Clive Winters, aka Mr. Twist,

the real Andrew Barrett.

Thank you for that flash of inspiration

one night in a gay strip club in Atlanta.

Acknowledgments

Thank you, as always, to my wonderful betas,

Tina, Lara, Mardee, Will, and Max.

One

ANDREWTOOK a long drink from his lager and gazed around the club from his seat at the bar. Okay, so it was only eight in the evening, and the place had just opened, but the strip club was dead. Large TV screens displayed images of gorgeous, hot guys and what looked like a vintage porn film. There was one lone customer, sitting at a table near the stage nursing a pint and casting the odd glance at the dancer who was performing. And the less said about him, the better….

The mirrors around the back of the stage didn’t enhance his performance either. His dancing could have been more polished, in Andrew’s opinion, but it wasn’t that which was putting him off. “Barry” was far too “in your face.” There was no subtlety to his act whatsoever. This was only the first of his three songs, and already he had his dick out, waving it at his one and only patron. Yeah, about as subtle as a train wreck.

“You don’t seem that impressed by our Barry.”

Andrew turned from his perusal of the stage to look at the barman, and then he smiled. The guy behind the bar sure was cute. Petite, with big eyes and a sexy smile.

“Sorry if I gave that impression,” Andrew said carefully. The direction his thoughts were going in right now, he wanted to keep on the right side of the staff. It might prove useful. “His act is… interesting.”

The barman snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

Andrew’s smile widened. “Look, I was trying to be polite, all right?”

His confidant grinned. “Appreciated.” He tilted his head. “Are you from the States?”

Andrew groaned. Not another person who could hear that damned inflection. One of his Facebook friends, Kathy, who lived in Dorset, had told him the first time they’d Skyped that he definitely had this American twang to his accent. He hadn’t heard it. But then a week later, during a conference call to London, someone else had told him the same thing.

“I’m originally from Bristol,” he said with a quick smile, “but I’ve been living in the States for quite a few years. I’ve just moved back here from Atlanta.”

The barman frowned. “Why on earth would you want to leave Atlanta to come to Manchester, of all places? I mean, I hear they have this huge gay community over there.” He looked around the club with a smirk. “And there had to be better strip clubs than this.”

Andrew laughed. “Well, now that you mention it….”

The barman extended his hand. “The name’s Kurt, by the way.”

Andrew shook it. “Andrew Barrett.”

Kurt’s eyes gleamed appreciatively as he looked Andrew up and down. “Very pleased to meet you, babe.” Andrew arched his eyebrows, and Kurt reddened. “Okay, so you’re easy on the eye. Sue me, as they say over there,” he said gruffly. Andrew chuckled. “How long have you been in Manchester?”

“Two weeks.” Two long, dull weeks. It had been primarily boredom that had driven Andrew from his flat. A week into the new job, and things were going well. The McCann Manchester branch was going to be a challenge but nothing Andrew couldn’t handle. Right now he was feeling antsy, and the discovery of a strip club on Canal Street in the heart of Manchester’s gay village was too great an opportunity to pass up. His gaze went back to Barry, who had by now removed his long shorts and T-shirt and was swinging from the pole, center stage.

“God, he needs to work on using the music better,” Andrew muttered to himself. Movement behind the bar dragged his attention back to Kurt, who was staring at him.

“You’re a stripper.” It wasn’t a question.

Andrew was impressed. “How did you know?”

Kurt shrugged. “Just a feeling. And besides, I work with enough of them. You get a feel for the good ones.” There was that deliberate inspection again. “And I get the feeling you’re very good at what you do.” He winked.

Andrew grinned. “You never know, you might get to see me in action one of these days.” Kurt’s eyes lit up. Andrew took another drink from his lager and gave Kurt his full attention. He cleared his throat. “So tell me, is Canal Street a good place to work?”

Kurt nodded. “It’s quieter during the week, but Fridays and Saturdays can get pretty manic. There are loads of clubs and bars, but so far, we’re the only strip club. If you like dancing, I can recommend Babel. They get a good crowd, and it’s always lively in there, no matter what day it is.”

Andrew filed that tidbit away for future reference. He studied his glass before posing his next question. “What do you know of a club called Collars & Cuffs?” He kept his manner nonchalant.

Kurt became still. “Oh, honey. Is that what you’re into?” Andrew said nothing. Kurt shrugged once more. “I’ve never been there—although I have been tempted, on occasion—but I know it’s a fairly exclusive BDSM club, gay men only.”

“That much I picked up online,” Andrew admitted. “Does it have a good reputation? If I believe what I read, then yes. But I want to know from someone who lives here, works here.”

Kurt gave a slow nod. “I’ve heard nothing but good stuff, to be honest. The two guys who own it apparently run a tight ship. I know fees are stiff, but they don’t let just anyone in. I know a few mates who’ve tried to get in and haven’t made it past their vetting procedures.”

That was music to Andrew’s ears and exactly what he’d hoped to hear. Looks like a visit to Collars & Cuffs is on the cards, then. “I did see a few other clubs for the Manchester area, but this one had the best ratings.”

Kurt met his gaze. “Yeah, well, one club shut down fairly recently. That was a bad business.” Andrew tilted his head, and Kurt scowled. “Just don’t ask. Those bastards needed to be shut down. That’s all you need to know.”

Before Andrew could say another word, he heard the sound of high heels clicking across the laminate flooring, followed by a low female voice beside him. “Is Barry still up there?” She sounded exasperated.

Kurt chuckled. “About to finish, he’s on his third number now.” He gave a nod toward Andrew. “Someone here I think you should meet, boss.”

Andrew quirked his eyebrows but turned on his chair to face the speaker. He came face to face with a tall woman in a gray suit, blond hair immaculately set and perfectly applied makeup. She was regarding him quizzically. “Oh, really?”

Andrew held out his hand. “Andrew Barrett, new arrival to these shores.”

She took his hand, her grip firm. “Always nice to meet a new customer.”

Kurt chuckled. “Ah, but this is no ordinary customer. Andrew’s a stripper.”

There was a definite look of interest in those cool blue eyes. “Indeed,” she said, holding onto Andrew’s hand. “DeeDee Walker. I own Bliss.” She gave him a speculative look. “Where have you worked, Mr. Barrett?” She relinquished his hand.

“In a few different places. My last job was in a bar in Atlanta.”

Oh, yeah, DeeDee definitely seemed interested. She squared her shoulders. “Do you need a job?”

Andrew laughed. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

She shrugged. “Nope. Don’t see the point.” She narrowed her gaze. “Well, do you?”

Andrew thought about it. If he were being totally truthful, he’d wandered into the club with the faintest hope that he’d have just such an offer. Okay, so the money he earned as a copywriter was good, but having a little extra income wouldn’t hurt. And of course, there was the fact that he loved stripping. And God, he’d missed it.

He met DeeDee’s forthright gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do. Maybe just weekends, though.” He could manage two nights a week without it taking over his life. He intended to pursue other… interests for another couple of nights.

DeeDee lifted her eyebrows. “Seems I’m not the only one who doesn’t mess about.” She glanced around the club. “Seeing as it’s still quiet, why don’t you get up there and show me what you’ve got?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. Andrew hid his surprise and got to his feet slowly, masking his excitement. “Okay, no problem.”

DeeDee pointed to the booth at the back of the stage, where Andrew could just about make out the head of the club’s DJ. “Give Jim your choice of songs. He’s got a pretty eclectic mix back there, so I guarantee if you want something, he’ll have it.”

If he has all three of what I have in mind, I’ll be seriously impressed, Andrew thought with a wry smile. He gave DeeDee a nod and went up onto the stage to talk to Jim. Barry had finished his set and had gone backstage, leaving the solitary customer watching the proceedings with interest. Apart from DeeDee, Kurt, and the lone guy, there was no one else in the club. Strike that, Andrew thought as he caught sight of a shadowy figure in the doorway that led into the club. A slim silhouette stood there, lit from behind so Andrew couldn’t make out any features. He dragged himself back into the moment. Shadowy figure in a doorway be damned—he had a club owner to impress.

He leaned on the sill to talk to Jim, who turned out to be a very hot guy. Andrew smiled appreciatively as he gave his requests. Jim didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Yeah, no problem. We got all those. Just give me a sec to set ’em up.” He winked. “And then go dazzle DeeDee.”

Andrew beamed. God, I hope this comes off. He got a good feeling about this place, and he liked DeeDee’s no-nonsense air. As he waited for Jim to queue up his numbers, Andrew kicked off his boots, shucked off his jeans and T-shirt, and then replaced his Doc Martens, adorned in only them and his royal blue Andrew Christian briefs. Good thing I was wearing some decent underwear. He piled his clothing on the ornate throne that sat at the back of the stage. Over the arm was a towel. Andrew took it to wipe down the pole, making sure that he leaped up to the top and slid down slowly. Even cleaning the pole had an art to it. He straightened and looked out toward his single customer, who was to be his sole focus for the performance. He watched DeeDee lean back against the bar, her gaze fixed on him. Kurt was standing next to her, and Andrew had to smile when he gave a thumbs-up.

The tinkling opening notes of “Destination Unknown” by Missing Persons came over the speaker system, and Andrew took a deep breath, focusing on what was to come. A few bars in, he leaped up once more to grab the pole at its highest point and then held his body rigid, legs spread wide, before sliding down to the floor and landing in the splits. Even above the music he caught the gasps from his tiny audience. Fluidly, he got to his feet and began to twist his body around the pole, adopting position after position that showed off his flexibility. When he held himself upside down on the pole while doing the splits, he caught more gasps. He kept his movements flowing and sensual, never straying from his familiar routine but ensuring every motion was smooth and precise.

The music faded into the pulsing drumbeat and heavy guitar riff of “Pure Morning” by Placebo. Andrew lowered himself to the floor and undulated his body in a sensual parody of sex, nothing too over the top, before moving smoothly onto his back and hooking his legs behind his head.

“Bloody ’ell,” his customer swore quietly, still audible above the soundtrack. Andrew smiled as he grabbed hold of his briefs and pulled them slowly over his arse and down his long legs, to where he held his now-freed ankles above his head. As he removed the underwear completely, he flipped onto his front and performed a one-handed handstand, legs and arms held perfectly still as he grasped the edge of the stage and kept his muscles taut. He allowed his body to move with fluid grace, focused on giving his best performance. As he moved into a proper handstand, doing the splits in midair, he was conscious of a faint ripple of applause. When the strains of “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and the Banshees heralded the end of his set, Andrew rose to his feet to gyrate around the pole, his movements sinuous and flexible. He threw everything he had into those last few minutes of music, arching his back as he focused his gaze on his solitary customer, who watched him, gaping. Andrew mouthed the words, running his hands over his body and smiling at the lone client. When the music finally ended and silence descended upon the club, he was panting softly but grinning, the burst of applause that filled the room sweet music to his ears.

DeeDee crossed the floor to stand before the stage, her face split in a broad smile as she looked up at him. “Grab your clothes and come backstage when you’re dressed. That door to the left of the stage.” She walked off toward it. Andrew hastily collected his clothes as another dancer appeared on the stage, a tall young man with a fashionably stubbled face, wearing jeans, a black leather jacket, and numerous chains around his neck. He gave Andrew a brief nod as they passed. Andrew heard Jim’s voice over the PA system as he introduced Madison. Andrew got dressed as quickly as he could, allowing for removal and replacement of his boots, and then hurried to the stage door. He found himself in a brightly lit office, but beyond it he could see a locker room, from whence came the chatter of male voices. Outside in the club, the strains of Katy Perry rose up to accompany Madison’s set.

DeeDee sat at a cluttered desk, cautiously tasting a half mug of coffee, which she replaced on the desk with a grimace. She smiled at him. “Sit down, Andrew.” She motioned to a seat against the wall. The office was tiny, with shelves full of folders above her head. DeeDee inclined her head toward the locker room and raised her voice. “If anyone’s making a coffee in the next five minutes, I’ll have one.” A couple of voices floated back in reply. Satisfied, DeeDee sat back in her chair and regarded Andrew keenly.

Andrew held himself upright, back straight. “So, did you like what you saw?” He could play the no-nonsense game too.

DeeDee’s smile was more businesslike this time. “Yes, I did. And if you want the job, you’ve got it. I believe you said you can do weekends?” He nodded. “That works for me. We’re closed Sundays and Mondays, although sometimes I open up the club for those who want to practice their routines with the pole.” That keen expression was back. “I don’t know what you were used to in the States, but here, the only money you make is what those guys out there place in your little armband, or in the receptacle on stage for coins.”

Andrew nodded once more. “That’s how it was in Atlanta at my last club.”

She cocked her head. “What about lap dances? Did you do those?”

He’d had a feeling this was going to crop up. “Yes. I’m assuming your dancers do those too?” It was DeeDee’s turn to nod. “What are the going rates?”

She handed him a small flier. “The customers purchase a VIP wristband from the club. Those are five pounds. No band, no lap dance. Then we have three different levels. For ten pounds, you can dance at their table. Of course, they don’t get to touch. This would also be a good time to point out that the customers shouldn’t touch you when they come up to the stage.”

“Got it.” So far there were no surprises.

DeeDee went on. “The next stage is a lap dance in the Sky Box. That’s the area up the stairs on either side of the entrance. There are padded seats there. You can be viewed by anyone, of course, but generally, customers can see when a dance is taking place up there. Those are twenty pounds, and they last for one song.”

Andrew nodded. What he was interested in, however, were the four boxes he could see with obscured glass. “I’m guessing your final level would be a VIP Box.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged, “but the price for those differs according to how long the customer wants you for. They pay ninety pounds for fifteen minutes, and you get to keep sixty-five of that. Thirty minutes for £165, of which you keep £120. And £340 for an hour, of which you keep £245.”

He did some swift mental calculations. The prices were in keeping with the States, more or less. “And are there restrictions on what can or can’t be done in there?” He awaited her response with bated breath.

“What you choose to do in the VIP Boxes is entirely down to your discretion,” DeeDee said at last. “But I should also point out that while women are allowed in the club and the Sky Boxes, they are not permitted in the VIP Boxes.” Andrew quirked an eyebrow. It wasn’t as if he’d never danced for women at his last club. He knew of clubs who only allowed accompanied women inside, and that was as long as they conformed to a dress code.

DeeDee sighed. “Let’s just say we’ve learned our lessons from mistakes other clubs have made. The last thing we want is a woman crying rape after she’s been alone in a VIP Box with one of the boys. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust my boys—I trust them implicitly—but it’s for their protection.”

“Understood.” Andrew liked DeeDee’s practical manner and matter-of-fact way of speaking.

“You’ll also be expected to do a Shower Show as part of your sets. I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of those in your act.”

Now that was new. “A shower?”

DeeDee grinned. “Didn’t see the shower cubicle, huh?” He shook his head. “To the left of Kurt’s main bar is a glassed-in shower. Two boys go in there and have a shower, and sometimes boys do a solo shower scene. End of story.” She smirked. “Just as long as you’re giving a good show while you do it, and if you’ve got a partner in there with you, you’re careful not to touch his genitals. Other than that, you can make it as wholesome or as downright steamy as you like.” She chuckled. “Wait ’til you see Ryder and Madison. Why the glass always gets fogged up whenever those two take a shower is beyond me. But there’s usually a crowd when they get in there.”

Andrew grinned. He could understand why the punters would want to look at Madison. Even on a brief glimpse, the tall stripper was drop-dead gorgeous.

DeeDee leaned forward. “And now for the all-important question—when can you start?” She glanced at a time sheet on her desk and sighed. “I only ask because I’m three dancers down for tonight.”

Andrew was about to laugh when he saw she was deadly earnest. He thought quickly. It was Saturday, and his only plan for the evening so far had been takeaway Chinese and a film on TV. And it would definitely get me some good karma. Starting a new job in an unfamiliar city, after years of living in America, a new stripping job—not to mention a planned visit to check out a BDSM club, which he fervently hoped would be an important part of his life—yeah, Andrew needed all the good karma he could get.

“Give me an hour to go home and collect some gear, and I’ll start tonight.”

DeeDee’s smile was so wide, it almost split her face in two. “I think you and I are going to get along.” She tilted her head. “Do you have a stage name?”

Andrew nodded. “Blair.”

She held out her hand, and Andrew shook it firmly. “Welcome to the family, Blair.”

God, he had such a good feeling about this. Now all he needed was for Collars & Cuffs to turn out to be every bit as good as others painted it, and he was in business.

Life was definitely looking good.

Two

WHENHE got back to Bliss, the place had started to fill. About half the tables now had occupants. DeeDee was at the bar, speaking with Kurt. When she saw him, she waved him over.

“Matthew will show you where your locker is,” she said, beckoning to a tall, dark, well-built young man with her finger. “Put your stuff away and then get ready. I’ve put you on after Darius, so you’ll have maybe half an hour before it’s your turn. If you need anything, ask one of the boys, and if they can’t sort it, find me.” She gave him a warm smile. “And I know you’ll be great. In fact, I can’t wait to see the customers’ faces when they watch your act.” Her eyes sparkled. “Not to mention the boys.” She gave a wave of her hand as she strode off to speak with the other barman.

“It’s Andrew, isn’t it?” Matthew gave him a shy smile, and Andrew returned it. “Come with me.”

Andrew followed him through the door by the stage and through DeeDee’s office. The room was fairly small, with tall lockers along two sides, a couple of tables with chairs around them, and a small kitchen area. As staff rooms went, it was well equipped. There was a fridge and a kettle, and a cabinet above it. Matthew led him to an empty locker.

“This one’s yours.” He gave Andrew a friendly look. “What’s your stage name, by the way?”

“Blair.”

Matthew held out his hand. “I just use Matthew,” he said, “but a lot of the boys use stage names.”

Andrew opened up his bag and began putting away his props and items of clothing. Not that he’d brought much. He tended to go out on stage in his underwear and take it from there. Matthew’s eyes widened when he pulled out the sword.

“What the fuck?”

Andrew stowed the sword safely in the locker and closed the door. “Yes, it’s a real sword, and as for what I do with it, you’ll have to wait and see.” He winked.

Matthew stared at him openmouthed. “A freaking sword in your act? Oh, this I have to see!” He grinned. “I think you’re going to liven things up around here.”

Andrew shrugged. “We’ll see.” He unbuttoned his shirt. “I suppose I should get out there and wiggle my arse, let the dog see the rabbit an’ all that.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It will also give me a chance to see what you boys are made of.”

“Hmm, checking out the competition, huh?” Matthew’s eyes gleamed. “Well, don’t worry. There’ll be quite a crowd of us when you take to the stage. Kurt’s already been spreading the word. He won’t tell us anything about your act, just stuff like ‘Oh my freakin’ God, you have to see this guy!’” Matthew’s imitation of Kurt was uncannily accurate, and Andrew snorted. He toed off his boots and then pushed his jeans down and off before replacing the boots once more. He couldn’t miss Matthew’s gaze drifting down to his arse. Andrew gave a little wiggle, just to let him know he’d been busted. Matthew gave a guilty start and reddened. “Okay, so you have a gorgeous arse. I’m gay. What did you expect?” His shy, pink-cheeked smile was adorable.

That was something else Andrew wanted to know. “I meant to ask Kurt earlier, but I didn’t get the chance. Where I worked in Atlanta, there were a couple of strip clubs. Mine was mostly gay guys, but there was one where virtually all the boys were straight. What about here?”

“We’re all gay. Well, nearly all of us—Charles is straight.”

Andrew liked that. He didn’t mind the straight boys doing gay for pay. It was hard to tell if they were gay or straight when they were performing anyway, but he’d thought some of them went too far with the female customers. He’d been in one club where a straight dancer had smacked a girl on the chin with his dick as he danced above her, and another had asked to squeeze a girl’s tits. Not that the girls had seemed unhappy about that in the slightest.

Matthew headed back to the club floor, Andrew following. More customers had arrived, and the atmosphere was tangibly different. The air vibrated with the pulse of music and the low rumble of chatter. A dancer was just finishing his set, and from the look of his armband, he’d been well received. Andrew gazed out over the club. Boys circulated, wearing just their underwear, chatting to customers, and in most cases flirting with them. He could already see some of the dancers leading guys up to the Sky Box for a lap dance. Andrew was no stranger to lap dances. There’d been a few memorable occasions when certain customers had turned out to have distinctly submissive tendencies, and Andrew had exploited those to the fullest. It was fair to say his efforts had been greatly appreciated.

“Okay, gents, let’s hear it for Jackson!” Jim announced over the PA system, and the room erupted into loud applause. Jackson was a slim, petite guy, and so far the only black dancer Andrew had seen. He gave Andrew a cheery wave as he came off stage. Andrew returned it with a smile. “Next up—Madison!”

A roar went up as Madison came out onto the stage, and Andrew caught his breath. Madison wore jeans and a black leather harness that showed off his wide, slightly furred chest to perfection. What was even more interesting was the choice of music—“S&M” by Rihanna. Andrew gasped in admiration as Madison swung himself up onto the pole and around it at a rapid pace, his handling sure. The expert way he managed to skim off his jeans when halfway up the pole and have them fall off completely before he hit the floor was very impressive. But the way he snaked his hands over his body so sensually, moving in time to the pulsing rhythm of the music, had Andrew beaming in approval. Now there was a guy who knew what he was doing. He watched in rapt attention as Madison removed all clothing but the harness. His dick was in proportion to his frame. Andrew judged that he would have been about eight inches when fully hard. Nice but not his type.

He stood and watched Madison through his first two songs, enjoying the performance. Once the third song began, he let his gaze wander around the club. He saw a slim blond guy, about five nine with blue eyes, standing toward the back of the tables. What caught Andrew’s attention was the way he was standing. The boy couldn’t keep still. He was constantly shuffling from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the room from table to table. There was a restless energy to him. Now there’s someone who needs more focus.

“That’s Darius,” a voice said into his ear.

Andrew turned to find Madison standing next to him, still in harness but now sporting a pair of dark blue boxer briefs. Andrew had lost all track of time. He hadn’t even been aware that Madison had finished his set. Wow, I was in a world of my own, he thought. Madison held out a hand and introduced himself. Andrew shook it and brought his focus back to Darius, who was watching the stage. Barry was there, and Andrew groaned to see him pull out his dick, about thirty seconds into the first song.

“I know. It’s just sad, isn’t it?” Madison said quietly next to him. Andrew’s chuckle rolled out of him before he could stop it. One look at the cheeky grin on Madison’s face had him warming immediately to the tall stripper.

“Just tell me they’re not all like him,” Andrew begged. Jackson’s act—what he’d caught of it, anyway—had been good. The boy moved beautifully to the music.

Madison chortled. “Oh, God, no. Barry’s our weakest link.” Andrew snickered. “No, there are some great guys here.”

“Which includes you, I have to say,” Andrew added. “I loved your set.”

Madison flushed. “Why, thank you.” He nodded toward Darius. “And Darius is completely different on stage; you’ll see. He’s up after Barry.” He glanced around the club. “Oh, well, this boy had better mingle.” He gave Andrew a wink and walked over to a table of three guys who were eyeing him appreciatively. Madison stroked one guy’s arm and flirted with another. Andrew was in no hurry to pursue customers for lap dances. Tonight was the time to check out his colleagues.

He went to the bar and got a Coke. He never drank when he was about to perform—earlier had been an exception. Giving 100 percent effort and concentration required a clear head. It was the same rule he applied to all his activities as a Dom, and that was the way it would remain.

Barry’s set mercifully came to an end, and he picked up his clothes to walk naked from the stage. The applause that followed him was sporadic, to say the least. Andrew watched Darius take to the stage, clad in a jockstrap and a high-riding silver top that just about covered his pecs. Now that was sexy. But what drew Andrew’s attention was Darius’s expression. Gone was the almost-jittery boy from a few moments ago. This Darius seemed calmer, more at ease. As he began to move to his first track, Andrew took in his body language. There was a dreamlike expression on his face while he danced that Andrew really liked, almost as if the boy were lost in his own world. He moved with fluid grace, so unlike his performance out on the club floor.

“Wow, I didn’t expect that,” Andrew said quietly to himself. Movement to his right had him turning to see Madison appear beside him. He’d clearly caught Andrew’s words.

“Didn’t expect what?” he asked.

Andrew nodded toward Darius. “He’s so different on stage.”

Madison watched Darius for a moment. “I think he has a little touch of ADHD, if you ask me. He always seems so highly strung when you talk to him backstage. But when he dances? It’s like he leaves it all behind. I think the dancing is good for him, like it focuses him.”

Andrew had to agree. He stood transfixed, watching Darius gyrate to a track with a slow, pulsing rhythm as he removed his clothing to reveal a lean body with nicely toned abs and well-defined pecs. His thighs were firm with muscle but not overly so. Very nice. Very nice indeed. He was so lost in Darius’s performance that he almost missed Madison pointing frantically at his watch. Shit—Andrew was up next.

He hurried through the stage door as the last track was halfway through and stood for a moment, breathing deeply, finding his focus. A few boys were in the locker room, but fortunately they ignored him. Andrew knew every dancer had his own routine before a set. As he heard the music fade, he breathed in deeply once more before walking onto the stage for his club debut.

“And that was Darius, guys!” Jim announced. Applause rang out as Darius exited the stage. He caught Andrew’s eye and smiled encouragingly. “Now, let’s welcome our latest performer, recently moved back here from the good ol’ US of A—Blair!”

Andrew cleaned off the pole as he’d done earlier and took up his position. As he went into his set, he was suddenly aware that a lot of the dancers had come from backstage to watch him. Talk about trial by fire. He focused his attention on his performance, giving it everything he had, as usual. But he couldn’t help but notice the expressions of his fellow dancers and customers alike as he did his routine. It was similar to DeeDee and Kurt’s reactions but amplified many times over.

During the first number, a few guys came up to drop pound coins in the cup provided for them on stage. Andrew greeted each man with a smile, and now and again he’d pause in his routine to crawl seductively to the stage edge, say hello, and thank them. It wasn’t like the States where guys could place folded singles in his armband. It was a bit much expecting five-pound notes from customers—not unless the performance was pretty spectacular.

But as the second track got going, there were quite a few guys who came up to the stage with folded blue five-pound notes, which they placed in his armband. Andrew was stunned. He hadn’t expected such generosity, and he made sure to speak with every man who did this before going back into his act. The outburst of applause when he tucked his feet behind his head was tremendous. Each contortion was greeted with a similar reaction from his audience, until at last he finished to a roar from the onlookers.

Andrew got to his feet from the splits he’d finished on and gave a smile to the crowd before him. Matthew was following him, and he handed Andrew the cup from the stage containing his tips. Andrew was overwhelmed to see more than a few bills tucked into the band around his arm. He hadn’t anticipated such a fantastic debut, and to see the men on their feet, applauding him so enthusiastically, was more than he’d dreamed.

He came off the stage to find Madison awaiting him, eyes shining. Behind him were at least four other dancers, who applauded him as he entered the locker room. Andrew felt his cheeks heat up.

“Holy. Fuck. How are we supposed to follow that? How in hell did you do all that?” Madison’s face was alight with a huge smile.

Andrew shrugged. “Well, I suppose it does help that I used to work in a circus as a contortionist.” He winked.

Madison stared at him in silence for a moment before hitting him on the arm, eyes wide. “Oh, now you tell us.” Andrew grinned, and the room erupted into laughter, which quieted suddenly when DeeDee entered, all smiles.

“Blair, congratulations. As first nights go, that was a blinder.” Andrew gave a half bow. She took a searching look around the locker room. “And I don’t need to tell you lot you’ve got some heavy-duty competition now.” She winked. “In the friendliest possible sense, of course.” She exited the room amid snorts of laughter from the boys. Andrew was immediately surrounded by them, all asking questions about where he’d learned his techniques.

“Do you give lessons, mate?” asked a slightly smaller guy with tattoos across his chest.

“Why, Ryder, you interested?” Madison said with a grin.

Ryder blushed. “I was only askin’,” he said, cheeks pinking up. Suddenly he threw himself into a handstand and was applauded loudly, Andrew joining in. Ryder got back onto his feet and shrugged. “See, I’m flexible enough.”

Madison leaned closer and spoke quietly into his ear. “Oh, trust me, hon, you’re definitely flexible.” His words carried enough for everyone to hear, and there were hoots and whistles as Ryder reddened even further. Madison had a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Jim appeared at the locker room door. “Charles, DeeDee’s gonna go spare. You need to get out here. And be warned—there’s a hen party just arrived, about eleven, twelve girls, and they’ve already had a skinful by the look of it. So be prepared to be groped, boys.” He waggled his eyebrows and left quickly. His announcement was met by good-natured groans from the dancers.

“What’s up?” Andrew asked, puzzled.

Jackson chuckled. “An overload of estrogen, that’s what. We often get hen parties here, but bloody hell, they can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Well, Charles, you’d better get out there,” Madison suggested. “Your fans await.”

Charles turned out to be the dancer with thick brown hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and a smooth, bare chest. He laughed as he left the room, wearing long shorts and a short top.

Madison watched him go. “They’ll be happy. Charles is always a favorite with the women.” He tilted his head. “D’you think there’s such a thing as a straight vibe? Maybe he’s putting out vibes that they’re picking up.” He chuckled. “Although I still think he’s a little bent.” Madison nodded to Andrew. “You should go catch his act. It’s quite an education.”

That was a good idea. Andrew went to the door to catch a glimpse of Charles in action and was just in time to see six or seven girls gathered at the stage, all looking up at the dancer with lustful expressions. Charles was gyrating, rolling his hips, holding their faces against his crotch, where he wore a pair of black briefs. The delighted screams of the women left Andrew in no doubt that Charles was doing a fine job. Matthew and Jackson circulated among the others, and it was amusing to watch their expressions as they were pawed enthusiastically by the party of loud women. The bride-to-be wore a short veil, tiara, and a driver’s L-plate, which seemed to be de rigueur for hen parties nowadays. Andrew had always thought it an amusing custom to make the bride-to-be wear something that identified her as a learner.

Matthew stood in front of her, rotating his hips slowly, a wide grin on his face as he grabbed her hands and placed them on his arse, encased in tight-fitting shorts. He let out a yelp as she delivered a smack to his bum and wagged a finger at her, still grinning. She snorted.

Charles finished his set, and after he’d pulled on his briefs, he went down onto the floor, where the girls were clamoring eagerly for table lap dances, which lasted for one song. He must have got through at least two before Andrew realized that Madison was onstage, dressed in his jeans and leather jacket. He loved the strong, confident way Madison used the pole. He was easily the tallest dancer there, taller than Andrew’s five feet eleven inches, and the most well built.

By 2:00 a.m. Andrew was flagging. It had been a while since he’d worked in a club, and he’d managed three sets since he’d arrived four and a half hours ago. No lap dances as yet, but he’d caught the admiring glances of some of the patrons, so he figured that was coming. By the time the club closed at three, Andrew had a fair idea of the club’s strengths and overall impressions of the dancers. But it was time to go home and collapse. For the first time in two weeks, he was happy.

Now all I need to do is get a club sorted.

Three

SUNDAYMORNING. Andrew rolled over in bed and stretched as he glanced at the alarm clock beside him. It was almost noon. He smiled contentedly and spread out under the light duvet. June sunshine spilled into his bedroom, bouncing off the cream-colored walls and white ceiling, bathing everything in its reflected light. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in ages. He lay still, basking in the simple joy of a lie-in.

When the call of his bladder proved too urgent to ignore any longer, he climbed out of bed and padded, naked, into the small bathroom next to his room. The flat wasn’t huge, but it would do until he moved up the ranks in his job. And if Bliss proves to be lucrative for me, maybe sooner, he reasoned. He peed, scratched, and yawned before going into the kitchen to put on the coffee. As he stood with his back to the kitchen worktop, staring absently through the window, he ran through a list in his head of what was urgent and what could wait. Most of his stuff from the States had been unpacked and put away, with only a few crates left, but they could be put on the back burner. The day’s most pressing issues were laundry and food shopping, both jobs boring as whale shit but necessary evils. One cup of coffee wasn’t enough to steel him for the task, so after two cups and a slice or two of toast—God, he hated stale bread—he was ready to face the day.