Authors: Pender Mackie
Jesse jerked and looked around. Two of the girls giggled at him as Brad beckoned him over.
Jesse went back to the table.
The party broke up when Chaz disappeared with one of the bridesmaids. The drunken bride complained that it wasn’t fair. She was the one who would soon be off the market.
No one offered to sample her wares. Jesse wanted to think none of the dancers— with the exception of Chaz, who would have referred to her as a bride ride—were sleazy enough to sleep with someone’s fiancée, but it might have been because she was sweating profusely, and the skin around her mouth had taken on a greenish tinge. She probably wasn’t going to hold on to her expensive cocktails for much longer.
Her remaining friends hustled her away while she protested that she’d wanted to get it on with a stripper. Jesse watched them go, scowling. She was getting married, for Christ’s sake.
He headed home a few minutes later. Before he left, he said good night to Val and promised to call, but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for chatting or flirting. The drunken women had soured his mood.
By the time he got home, he was back to his normal optimistic self. Chris, who worked as a blackjack dealer at one of the smaller, older casinos, was working a late shift, so Jesse had the apartment to himself. He considered calling Val right away and even punched in most of the phone number but hesitated with his thumb poised over that last digit. Maybe Val was a night owl, but he’d said to call after noon. What if he was already sleeping and Jesse woke him up? Or worse, what if Val was home but not alone? It hadn’t been more than a few days since Jesse had called Mike at this time of night and interrupted something. He didn’t think that was likely with Val, but just remembering how embarrassed he’d felt with Mike was enough to change his mind. He’d wait till tomorrow.
Jesse smoothed out the slip of paper. He studied Val’s tidy penmanship, running his fingertip over the phone number. He could send a text, except he couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound inane. He put Val’s number on his nightstand, carefully weighing the paper down with his wallet, and went to bed.
Alone in the dark, he replayed Val’s expression, the way his gaze had lingered on Jesse’s mouth as they’d talked. He remembered every look and touch they’d exchanged. The warmth in his belly spread to his groin. Jesse pushed the covers down to his thighs.
He slipped his hand into his boxer briefs, brushing it against his lower belly and stroking himself slowly as he imagined being with Val. He tightened his grip as he rolled and tugged at his nipples with the fingers of his other hand. He thought of Val touching him, exploring, one elegant finger delicately brushing against his hole, easing inside his body. He arched up and bit his lip hard as he came.
Jesse called the next day before he left for rehearsal. Val’s voice sounded gravelly and thick with sleep. As they talked Jesse wondered what a sleepy, seminaked Val looked like. His stomach fluttered, and his dick stirred with echoes of last night’s arousal.
He smoothed his palm over the front of his jeans but resisted the urge to do more. It would be so easy to get off while listening to that rough, sexy voice—just a few slow strokes. But that felt like he’d be taking advantage of Val. He couldn’t stop his erection from happening, but he did his best not to sound like he was perving on Val’s voice. He’d wait until he could be with him for real.
He heard Val suck in a breath. “You’re not out, are you?”
Jesse’s heart sank. “Is that a problem?” he managed.
He was out to his family, his friends—the people who mattered. At times like this
he hated himself. Hated his cowardice and the bigots who couldn’t just accept people for who they were. A tidal wave of shame washed over him. He was going to lose his chance with Val because he was too chicken to stand up for himself.
Jesse waited miserably as he listened to the muted sounds of a TV on the other end of the line. He struggled to control his breathing so he wouldn’t telegraph his distress. Val hadn’t answered yet. Maybe there was still a chance.
“You willing to be seen with me?” Val’s question was matter-of-fact. “Of course.” He wanted to be with Val, and it wasn’t as if anyone would know they were dating, unless they started swapping spit in public. Jesse didn’t think either of them was the type.
Could he handle it if some people guessed they were together? If Val didn’t want them to hide? He tested the idea, pictured them walking down the street, their bodies closer than two men who were just friends would allow, maybe even holding hands. Imagined Val pulling him into a darkened doorway, giving him a brief but heartfelt kiss. Instead of filling him with anxiety, the idea gave him hope. Maybe Val would be the incentive he needed to take that final step.
“I guess we could play it by ear,” Val said.
Relief made him giddy, reckless. “I’m not gonna stay in the closet forever.” “Sure,” Val said.
Jesse couldn’t blame him for sounding skeptical.
They talked for another half hour. Jesse was frustrated to discover their schedules weren’t compatible. Val worked a second bartending job late into the night at a nightclub on the strip. He slept in the mornings and got up around noon. No wonder he’d told Jesse not to call too early.
Jesse’s afternoons were busy with rehearsals. The revue had hired a couple of new ensemble dancers to fill in where and whenever needed, and they were still struggling to learn all the show’s routines. Once the new dancers were solid, Jesse would have some free time before Chaz decided to change up the act again. He didn’t want to wait that long.
Jesse shook his head, then remembered Val couldn’t see him. “No. I have the whole day off.”
“We could get together in the afternoon.” Val’s voice was a mixture of hope and caution. As if he thought maybe this was a bad idea but he was going to do it anyway.
“Yeah.” Jesse’s heart beat light and fast, the same way it did just before he went onstage. He checked his watch. Damn. He had to leave soon.
“What do you want to do? I’m okay with pretty much anything,” Val said.
Heat flooded Jesse’s body, and his cock stiffened.
“Jesse? You still there?”
He pulled himself together and told a half-truth. “Yeah. I just…realized the time.” “I’d better let you go. Give it some thought. We’ll talk more tonight.”
He spent the rest of the day thinking about Val and their date. Right up until showtime Jesse tried to think of different things they could do, but he had a hard time reconciling Vegas and dating. What did people do on a first date in Vegas? Drinks and gambling? Dinner and a show?
So far they’d only seen each other in public, a sort of look-but-don’t-touch courtship. But on Monday they could be alone. Finally they’d be free to do whatever they wanted—to talk, to touch. Jesse had trouble focusing on the date part of the night. He kept skipping to the end of the date, the part where they kissed and hopefully had sex.
He desperately wanted to take the next step in this slow seduction, and from the way Val had been looking at him lately, he was pretty sure Val wanted the same thing. But that wasn’t all Val wanted, or they would have sneaked away to the theater’s storeroom already.
Chaz took some of his conquests there. Maybe some of the other guys did too. As the bartender, Val would have a key, and Jesse was more than willing. It wouldn’t have been the first time he was someone’s dirty secret.
In the privacy of the storeroom Val could have kissed him stupid, pressed him up against the wall, sliding in and out of him, stroking him, as Jesse tried to muffle helpless sounds of pleasure. Oh, God, Jesse almost wished he would.
But Val wanted more than just a quick hookup. He wanted to date, in public. Jesse admired his honesty, but it was scary too. He’d never dated someone who wasn’t closeted. But this was a chance to have a real relationship, and he wanted it.
After the show, he didn’t know what to suggest for their date. He hoped Val would bring up the subject first so Jesse could take his lead from him, but when he headed over to the bar for his nightly club soda, Val didn’t mention their date.
Jesse leaned on the counter, ignoring the dancers and women behind him. “What’s Val short for?” he stalled.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Val said drily.
“Osvaldo?” Jesse guessed.
Val flicked him with a bar towel.
“It couldn’t be Valerie, could it?”
“Now you’re really reaching.”
Jesse grinned. “If I guess right, do I get something? A reward?”
Val shook his head, smiling. “You won’t be able to guess.”
Jesse felt sorry for Val. His own childhood had been rich with bedtime stories and good-night kisses. “He’s a goblin who offered to help a woman spin straw into gold if she promised to give him her firstborn. She couldn’t go through with it, though, so he said she could keep the baby if she guessed his name.”
“I’ll never ask you to make promises you can’t keep,” Val said gently, and Jesse knew he meant coming out. His face burned, and he dropped his gaze to the counter.
Val cleared his throat. “Vallis Delwyn Tremain. That’s my full name.”
If Val had told him as a way to distract him, to ease his embarrassment, it was a good ploy. “Vallis.” He tried out the exotic, foreign-sounding name, liking the way it felt in his mouth.
“You can see why I go by Val.”
Val smirked. “I think I’ll keep you.”
Jesse cast a quick, guilty look over his shoulder. Val must have taken it as a cue to wrap up their conversation, because he asked, “Have you thought about what you’d like to do on Monday?”
“I don’t know.” Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek. If he said he wanted to spend time alone, Val might think it was because he was in the closet, not because he was hoping to have sex.
Val studied him. “It’s okay,” he said slowly. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I know. That’s not it.”
“No?” Val cocked his head to one side.
Now it was Jesse’s turn to examine Val’s face, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Okay.” Jesse wasn’t sure if the double meaning was intentional, but he hoped so.
He went back to the group. He laughed along with everyone else when Brad made a joke, but his thoughts were still with Val. Jesse tried to focus. Chaz was just a few feet away, on the other side of a cluster of women. Chaz kept looking at him, but Jesse didn’t know what that meant. He tried to make small talk, but the women’s coy looks and too-familiar touches weren’t what he wanted.
When he felt like he couldn’t take any more without screaming, he made his apologies. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go now.”
One of the women giggled, but Jesse ignored her. He stared at Chaz uncertainly. It wasn’t like the man to help another dancer out. Chaz was more likely to chew someone out.
Chaz sounded relaxed enough, but Jesse remembered what Mike had said. Maybe Chaz watched and reported back to someone, or maybe he had his own reasons for spying. Chaz was the oldest, most experienced dancer and the dance captain and leader of their band of merry men. But he was no Robin Hood.
Jesse had seen him pull dancers aside and go postal on them out for screwing up a routine or being late to rehearsal. When Brad had come in with a hangover, Chaz had been furious. He’d told Brad—loudly—that his lack of professional attitude made them all look bad.
He’d had a point, but Chaz had left the rest of them getting ready and taken Brad out into the hall. When they came back to the dressing room, Brad wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Maybe he’d just been hungover, but he’d left right after the show, skipping the meet and greet.
Jesse had done everything Chaz asked of him, and so far he’d stayed out of trouble. But the thoughtful look Chaz gave him as Jesse said his good-byes made him think he could expect a summons.
They were in the dressing room. The others, with the exception of Brad, were still in the showers.
“What’s up?” Jesse played it cool. No point in giving Chaz a helping hand.
Chaz dried off, then squeezed into his jeans. Jesse stood gripping his towel around his waist. Being almost naked put him at a psychological disadvantage, but he didn’t want to drop his towel to get dressed, and at least this way Chaz couldn’t try to take him somewhere else to talk. Chaz was probably less likely to tear him a new one in the middle of the communal dressing room.
Chaz applied pit stick and tugged on his shirt. He stared at Jesse, looking him over from head to toe as if Jesse were a used car and Chaz wanted to kick his tires. Jesse waited. He wished Chaz would just say what he had to say so Jesse could get dressed.
“I don’t care if you like to suck dick or take it up the ass. I don’t give a shit.”
Jesse managed to stay standing only because his knees were locked. He tried to keep his face expressionless as his heart lurched sickeningly. It banged around in his chest like a Vegas drunk.
Chaz took a couple of steps closer, got right up into Jesse’s personal space. Jesse held his ground. He forced himself to meet that dark-eyed stare. He’d never noticed until now just how reptilian Chaz’s eyes looked.