by Willa Okati
Christian glanced from side to side. “Um ... no?”
“Right, sure they haven’t. Okay, here’s the deal. I’m short a dancer. Zeb fell out last night and they don’t know if he’s gonna make it. If he does, he’s out a job. I don’t want that kind of trouble around here. No drugs, no way; cigarettes are okay, but none of that other junk. Last thing we need is a raid.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Christian’s heart sped up. “Does this mean I’m hired?”
“Not exactly. I haven’t seen you dance yet, right?” Michelle nodded to the next woman out on the catwalk, a slender girl with a head of curly red hair. “That’s Ross. He’s hell in those curls. Gets ‘em every time.”
“Ross,” Christian repeated. Keith, Ross, Michelle. Things were beginning to sink in. “All the dancers are in drag?”
Michelle roared with amusement. A solid hand hammered between Christian’s shoulder blades. “For starters. Come with me. We’ll go backstage, get you all dressed up, and you can make your trial run. If you’ve got the stuff, you’ve got a job.” He hesitated. “Just don’t, eh, say anything to anyone about the fringe benefits, okay? You can make good money if you’re a good girl.”
Good money. Christian clamped down hard on any misgivings he might have had. He could dress up, sure, as long as he kept it on stage.
Except he soon figured out that the real money wasn’t made on the catwalk. You might get a few dollar bills shoved down your fake cleavage, or hand out a kiss for anything less than fifty, but if the price was right ...
He’d watched as Ross knelt in the dim alley light, unzipping a man’s pants. They’d fallen down the customer’s skinny legs to puddle around his ankles, and his thin, pencil dick had popped out of his Y-fronts as Ross pulled those down, all business. Then, acting like it was the best he’d ever tasted, Ross had ...
Christian had walked out with the traces of makeup still on his face, a burning sensation in his chest, but he’d had a job and a check for his two dances that night.
Plus a fifty-dollar bill of his own.
He did what he had to do to get by.
* * * * *
Whore. No matter how hard he scrubbed, Christian could still feel the paint on his skin. He could feel Michelle -- Mikey -- his hand pounding on Christian’s back. It wasn’t a gesture of approval. It was just a reminder of how things would go if one of his dancers didn’t fall in line.
Christian had always done what he was told. He’d earned enough to get by, just, and took care of himself.
God, though, at what cost? He lowered the paper towel, staring at his reflection. Everyone here knows what I am, now, and nobody wants me.
I should never have come.
“I would beg to disagree,” a familiar foreign accent commented from behind him. Christian jumped, not having seen anyone’s image in the mirror, and turned around. Liam was emerging from one of the stalls. “You were talking to yourself, and I could not help but overhear,” he said as if they were merely exchanging pleasantries. “I did not mean to be so harsh earlier, Christian. I ask you to forgive me for my bluntness. I see that it has caused you no lack of distress.”
Christian sagged against the sink. “Liam, I really can’t handle you right now, okay? You with your ... and the weird ... fuck, have you been in here the whole time?”
“Long enough to observe you in your misery.” Liam stepped forward, leaning on his stick. Christian eyed the thing. It almost looked like a cane, and from the way Liam winced as he walked, he could tell that Liam was in some kind of pain. “No, no, do not pay attention to my own small aches. Let us be concerned with the larger source of trauma.” Liam reached him and placed one small hand over Christian’s heart. “I believe it lies here.”
Christian shook his head and took a sidestep. “You don’t know anything.”
“No? I think I know a great deal.” The blue crystal at Liam’s neck caught a bit of light from the overheads and glittered at Christian. “Come with me, if you would. No one has interrupted us as yet, but ...” He let his voice trail off meaningfully. “The public stalls are perhaps not the best place for our conversation.”
“Where is there to go?” Christian demanded. He clenched his hand around the clump of damp paper towel. “They hate me out there, Liam. I blew it. Everyone heard me. No one wants to come near me now.”
“And should that stop you from enjoying the dance by yourself?” Liam lifted one eyebrow. “Tell me, Christian, what is it that you want?”
Christian stared the little man down, but Liam met him gaze for gaze, his hazel eyes unflinching. After a long moment, Christian gave in. “The music,” he said, wilting against the row of sinks. “I want the music, and the power. I want to dance like I mean it.”
“Then what is stopping you?”
“What’s the dance without a partner?”
“Hmm.” Liam tilted his head to a side. “I happened to observe you earlier -- you had stumbled into a dangerous situation, Christian. I know of the circle which you had integrated with, and they are dancers like you have never met before. They do not tire, and perhaps they would have carried you away when Amour Magique closed, to dance for them until you collapsed.”
“Carry me away? Where?”
“There are things it is best you do not know.”
“Okay, fine.” Christian shook his head. “But Liam, they were good. And they liked me.”
“So did the tall, pale man with whom you also danced. What fault did you find in him?”
Christian’s other fist tightened until he could feel his nails biting into his palm. “Him,” he spat with bitterness. “He’s the whole reason the group kicked me out. Why no one in Amour Magique wants me.”
“I think not. I have heard of this Ewan, too, and reputable sources have it that he is an honest -- man. He would never have thought of telling anyone where you work.”
“Honesty usually goes hand in hand with being a bastard.” Christian unclenched his fists with an effort and crossed his arms. “What’s your point, Liam?”
The smaller man sighed. “Very well. You will hate me for this, no doubt, but close your eyes.”
“What the hell?”
“Just close them, Christian!” Liam ordered, clearly out of patience. “And hold on to my arm. Otherwise, you will wish that you had. Hang on tight.”
When Christian leaned back a little, Liam moved with him. Putting one small hand over Christian’s eyes, he grabbed Christian’s wrist with the other. “Now,” he heard the other man say, very quietly. “Off we go.”
Christian fought back automatically, but stopped in shock when he realized that suddenly, the room was warm, there was music pounding in his ears, and they were no longer in the bathroom.
He choked back a shout of alarm as Liam stepped away. Shock. Fright. Disturbance. “What did you just do?”
“I took a shortcut.” Liam leaned on his cane. “Tell me, Christian, besides the dance, what do you want? Who do you want?”
Christian swallowed. “David,” he said automatically. “I want to be with David. Where is he?”
“I thought you might say as much. He is in the bar just beside us. Look, if you will.”
Christian turned to scan the packed alcove and picked David out with ease as the tallest and biggest man in the room. He didn’t seem to be as shy and diffident as usual, though, seeing as he was twined around a man roughly his size and much paler than Ewan. The two were laughing and talking together, reaching up to touch one another with light, fond brushes of skin against skin.
“David has found his one true love,” Liam said quietly. “I would not wish to disturb him now. Would you?”
Christian’s throat felt dry. “No,” he said, stepping back a pace. “I need -- but he doesn’t.”
“No. David is happy. He deserves much. Would you deny him a single drop of what he has earned?”
“No.” Christian shook his head. “But it’s just ... who do I ...”
“There is al
ways me.”
“Yeah, there seems to be. But, Liam, I told you, I just can’t deal with you right now.” Christian dry-washed his face with one hand, as his paper towel seemed to have disappeared. “I want to go home.”
“It is not time yet. The evening has just begun.”
“For you, maybe. For me, it’s over. I’m out of here.”
“Christian, hold a moment.” Liam seized him by the arm. Christian tried to tug himself away, but damn if the little guy didn’t have a serious grip. “There is someone here who would enjoy a moment of your attention. And you need not be anyone but yourself with him.”
Christian laughed bitterly. “Yeah? And who would that be?”
Liam nodded. Christian followed his gaze and felt his heart sink as he saw Ewan making his way through the crowd, anxiously looking left and right. “He’s looking for me,” Christian said with a sinking certainty. “He wants to pick up where we left off, doesn’t he?”
“I would say so, yes.” Liam twirled his stick. “You could do much worse than to take up with Ewan for an evening, or longer. He is a good -- man, Christian.”
“I’ve met a lot of good men. They all want one thing.”
“Then you have met no good men at all. I --” Liam hesitated. He reached for the crystal at his neck. “Christian, I beg of you, please listen to me. The man approaching you means you no harm. Go with him and --”
And just like that, Liam blipped out. “Shit!” Christian jumped away from where the nutty little fag had been standing, half-startled out of his mind. “God! Why does he keep doing this?”
“Hey -- you.” A light grasp settled around Christian’s bicep. “Why did you disappear? I’ve been looking for you all over the place.”
Christian closed his eyes tightly, praying that he would not see who he thought he would see. He opened. No such luck. Ewan stood in front of him, more real than life, from the spikes of his dark hair to the black-framed glasses, sweatshirt, and baggy jeans. He had a look of honest concern on his face, but Christian knew better than to trust a surface impression. “You have?” He felt the dullness of the Pleasure Palace settle over him.
“Yeah. You’s a hard guy to find, you know that?” Ewan shifted on his feet. “Oh! You want I should take my hand off? Because I can do that, you know.”
Christian slid his own fingers up to cover Ewan’s own. He was in his own private subspace now, in the hole he had dug for himself, and where he ... belonged. His voice came out silky and seductive. “Your hand is fine right where it is. You can touch me anywhere you want.”
Ewan jerked back. “There you go, doin’ that again. Criminy, Sunshine, I don’t want you out here like some kinda common --” He hesitated.
“It’s all right. I know what you were going to say.” Christian lifted Ewan’s hand to his own cheek. “Everything’s all right,” he soothed. Whore. Trollop. Streetwalker. “Do you have money, Ewan?”
“Whaddya mean, do I have -- well, yeah. I got a little.” Ewan dug in his pocket and drew out a messy wad of bills.
Christian caught sight of a few familiar dead presidents and let himself smile as enticingly as he could.
“I could buy you, I don’t know, a drink maybe? What kind do ya like? I’d like a gin and tonic, or maybe a Seabreeze. Some kinda martini. I know, it’s not in style, but I kinda like to go with the classics, yeah?” He grinned and shoved the money back in his pocket. “Let’s go. There’s a bar right here. My treat.”
Christian shook his head, feeling strands of hair wisp across his cheeks, covering Ewan’s fingers. He shimmied up close and personal, pressing his chest against Ewan’s. “What do you say we get out of here?” he asked in a low, tomcat purr. “We could go back to your place.”
Never take a trick home, or go off alone! Christian could hear Mikey scolding. You never know what kinda trouble you’re getting into.
Fuck Mikey. Michelle. Whoever. “Come on, Ewan,” Christian coaxed. “Be a good boy, and take me home.”
Ewan blinked several times, his eyes large behind his glasses, then nodded. “You, uh, you sure about this? Because we could, I don’t know, maybe dance and stuff. I could go for a few turns around the floor. It’s been a while, but I liked what we were doin’ earlier.”
“You’ll like it even better when we’re alone. I’ll be your private dancer,” Christian sang, taking Ewan by the upper arm. Damn it, if he was going to be a whore, he was going to do it right. He bet he could earn a lot of money turning tricks on the streets. He just had to take care of Ewan first. But he didn’t have all night.
“Let’s go home,” he breathed into Ewan’s ear. Then he nipped at the lobe. “I’m waiting, big boy.”
“Holy Mary,” Ewan breathed. “You really wanna -- okay. Let’s go. I’m game, I’m in. My place. It’s kinda far to walk; you up for that?”
I can scan the streets while we travel. Multitask. Christian’s wellspring of words had dried up. Nothing mattered but the here and now. He curled against Ewan and let out a low sound, mimicking desire.
“Okay, then. You got a deal.” Ewan took Christian by the hand, and Christian let him. “You’ll love my place. Kinda long to walk, and kinda hard to get in, but you won’t believe the setup I have.”
Christian felt dead inside again as he let himself be pulled along. None of that showed in his voice, though. “Lead me to it,” he murmured, letting his lips curve up in a smile. “This is what I was born to do.”
Chapter Five
The streets of Charleston seemed far too loud and way too bright, which was odd when they’d just emerged from a club like Amour Magique. Maybe it wasn’t so much the streets themselves as the contrast. Christian squinted and covered his eyes briefly. Maybe it was that, out here, the music was dissonant. Snatches of different songs blasted from car stereos. Sidewalk artists played everything from jazz saxophone to Irish pennywhistle.
Ewan didn’t seem to notice a thing, least of all the way Christian slunk along at his side, hands and arms to himself. The other man all but bounced with excitement, like a kid who’d found an adorable puppy dog that was following him home.
Well. Not so far from the truth, was it?
“Hey, you want something to eat?” Ewan started walking backwards, keeping his eyes on Christian. Just look at that shiny coat. “Seriously, my treat. Whaddya want, a hot dog? I could eat a hot dog.” I’ll feed him and walk him, I promise. “There’s a cart right here. They have sodas, too. You like soda?” Can I keep him, please?
Christian didn’t like to eat hot dogs -- he knew what was in them, and how high-fat they were -- but more weeks than not, it came down to a choice between the wiener or peanut butter. Hungry. Ravenous. Famished. He lowered his eyes, letting his lashes brush his cheeks, and murmured something unintelligible.
Ewan seemed to take that as a “Yes, I’d like something to eat.” Which Christian did, not that he would have admitted it. Ewan clapped his hands together. “Great! The food’s on me. Not literally, I mean -- no, no, for real now. Don’t even think about paying for it yourself.”
Pay. Exchange of funds. Compensate.
Christian made another noncommittal noise. Of course I’m not paying for it. This entire evening is on you ... darling.
“You like your dogs with everything on them? Oh, maybe you don’t want to get messy. Whaddya have? Mustard, relish? Oh, check it out. This stand has bratwurst. God, I like those so much better, ya know? Full of fat, but damn, they taste so good, and I love the way the skins burst when ya bite into one. You want?”
Christian’s stomach gave a gurgle. Despite himself, he nodded. “Plain,” he surprised himself by saying.
“Nothing at all? Just plain?” Ewan sounded disappointed. “Man, half the fun is getting it loaded with stuff, all the extras. You gotta use a lot of napkins, but what the hell, ya know? But, okay, we’re cool, whatever ya want. Me, I’m goin’ all the way.” He started to bound toward the cart, then hesitated. “You’re gonna stay right here, yeah? You’ll be he
re when I get back?”
Christian reached out and tucked his hand into the crook of Ewan’s arm. “I’ll go with you.”
Ewan blushed from ear to ear. He didn’t pull away, although he did give a start. “Hey, we’re kinda in ... well, we’re in the open, ya know? Ya sure ya don’t mind kind of a ... public display?”
“Do you mind?” Christian turned his gaze on Ewan, who turned mottled with patches of pink. It was an interesting look on someone so naturally pale. Christian let himself smile seductively, the way he’d practiced, the way he smiled on stage. “I don’t mind a bit.”
“Yeah, well, I gotta get the money out of my pocket. Sorry.” Ewan flashed an apologetic grin as he pulled his arm away from Christian. “Jeez, you know, it just occurred to me. I don’t know your name. What kinda guy am I, to ask you home without even knowin’ that? So, what is it? What’s your handle?”
Christina, Christian was tempted to answer. Instead, he leaned up and whispered into Ewan’s ear, “You know who I am. Sunshine.”
Ewan laughed a little nervously. “Nah, nah, I’m not talkin’ about that stage name. Who are you really?”
Well, what the hell. What was the harm in him knowing? “Christian.”
“Christian. It’s a nice name. Fits ya. Okay, you wait here. Won’t take a minute.” Ewan hastily crossed the few feet to the hot dog cart. It was close enough that Christian could hear him order two bratwursts, one plain on a bun, and one all the way -- slaw, relish, mustard, ketchup, chili, onions -- no, wait, hold the onions. And you got any breath mints? Nah? Okay, thanks.
He stood alone on the sidewalk, idly twisting to and fro, watching Ewan. He’d promised Liam he wouldn’t sell himself inside Amour Magique, but they’d left the place now. He was up for grabs to anyone who could make the highest offer. So, if someone better came along while Ewan was busy ...
Draping himself against a streetlight, Christian gave two approaching men the eye. They were walking closely enough he could tell they were a couple. That and the rainbow ties. Businessmen, probably well bankrolled. “What do you say?” he asked quietly as they passed. “You feel like a threesome tonight?”