You Can Leave Your Hat On

by Lena Matthews

  If there was anything Sawyer was, it was truthful with himself. And he knew he’d fucked up big time.

  “See, this is why I didn’t even want to talk to you about this.”

  Macon snorted. “Who else are you going to talk to?”

  “My new and improved best friend.” As soon as he found one, that was.

  “Look, fucker, I’m just trying to help you fix this.”

  “And I appreciate it. I do.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, I do.” Sawyer sighed. “It’s just that, I’m past the stage of random hook-ups, and he’s just hitting his prime. I don’t want to be an old queen who’s following his younger man around, begging him to love me. I’m just not dramatic enough for all that shit.”

  “Great.” Macon nodded his head in mock understanding. “Push him away instead.”

  “Good plan, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s a real winner.”

  “I suck.”

  “Very well, I might add, but that’s neither here nor there.” Macon waggled his eyebrows and then grew serious again. “Look, from what you’ve told me about this kid, he’s a good guy. He obviously adores your cranky old ass, so don’t puss out. Demand from him what you’d demand from any man you’d share your life with.”

  “Could you have possibly cursed more?”

  “Probably.”

  “Fine, I suppose that means I’m going to be visiting a strip club tonight.”

  “I could go with you. You know, for moral support.” Macon tried for sincerity, but failed miserably.

  “No thanks. I fucked this up by myself. I think I can get myself out of it.” Or at least he hoped he could.

  Chapter Six

  Three more nights. Three more nights. Despite saying those words over and over in his head, Harlan just couldn’t get into the swing of his performance. Not that anyone in the audience was critiquing his dancing for artistic style. Mostly they just stared at his crotch and whooped and hollered, which was fine with Harlan. They could look all they wanted, as long as they didn’t touch him longer than was necessary to shove their green in his thong.

  The house was packed. If he played his cards right, Harlan could make the majority, if not all, of his half of the rent tonight. The thought alone should have put an extra swivel in his hips. Lord knew it had in the past, but tonight, he just wasn’t feeling it.

  He could say it was a combination of reasons, such as his and Rhys’s conversation before his family left today, or the message on his answering machine from Philips and Stones Pharmaceuticals asking him to come back in for a second interview as a pharmaceutical rep, but it would be a lie. The only thing really messing with his mind was Sawyer.

  Stop it, he ordered himself harshly. No thoughts of him. Not now. With sheer determination, Harlan turned his mind off his relationship issues, and on matters more deal-able. Making his money.

  With a newfound energy, Harlan faked the funk, put more oogie in his boogie, and worked the stage, giving the men the show they deserved. When his number ended, he grabbed the remaining money from the stage before smiling and waving his hand as he exited behind the curtain. He glanced down at the crumpled bills, pleased to see more Hamiltons than Washingtons in his pile.

  As he made his way backstage to the dressing room, he bypassed Tameron, who was just coming in from working the floor. The handsome, well-built, African-American man was all smiles as he sidled up beside him. “Hey, man. The crowd is wild tonight.”

  “You get paid?”

  Tameron held open the waistband of his thong, showing off not only his dick, but the nice bundle of money he had cradling it. “You know it.”

  “Nice.” Harlan smiled as he made his way over to his station. He had to dry off and remove most of the oil from his body before he went out to work the audience. A slick shining body was all nice to look at from afar, but was it hell on Brooks Brothers suits. Besides, Harlan was willing to bet half the men in the audience were married with kids. It wouldn’t be a good idea for the wives to find oily dick imprints on their husbands’ thighs. Mighty hard to explain to Mrs. Undercover Brother.

  “Shit, man, I forgot.” Naked now, Tameron came back to his side, rubbing a hand towel across his shaven bald head as he talked. “Don’t hang back. You got a request. Private dance. Money room.”

  “Really?” He hadn’t had a private room request in a while. Cha to the ching.

  “Yeah, kid. Go make your paper. Pizza’s on you tonight.”

  “You got it, man.” Harlan quickly cleaned up, ready to collect the next round of loot. With a smile for the patrons, he walked back out into the club. He made a quick stop at the bar to grab a bottled water and find out the room number where he’d be dancing, before heading down the hallway.

  Harlan nodded his head to Shaun, the bouncer, and passed him his empty bottle before knocking on the door to let his client know he was there. He waited until he heard a muted, “Come in,” before he opened the door and stepped inside.

  He pushed the door all the way open, securing it with the stopper, as was the policy, before turning around to face the guy he was going to be dancing for. The easygoing grin he slipped on like a mask fell away when he spotted Sawyer sitting on the dark couch, champagne glass in hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see your show, like you requested.”

  Begged was more like it, but that was before this morning’s blow up. Now Harlan didn’t want him anywhere near Tricky Dix’s, or him. “Then you’re wasting your money and my time.”

  “It’s not a waste.” Sawyer set his glass down on the small table next to him and sat back, looking for all the world like a man at ease with his life and surroundings. “It’s my money and I’ve paid for your time.”

  Harlan wanted so badly to tell him to kiss his ass, but knew there was very little Shaun missed. He didn’t want everyone in the club knowing the ins and outs of his personal life. There had to be something he kept private in a world as overexposed as this. “Fine.”

  Harlan turned his back on Sawyer and walked to the stereo, selecting a familiar pop tune from the mixed CD to dance to. Despite how much he wanted to rail at Sawyer, he would keep things professional and give him the three dances he paid for. He drew the line at talking Sawyer up though, as he would other clients in an attempt to get them to buy more drinks and another dance. Three songs, then he was out of there.

  “If it makes it easier you can pretend I’m someone else.”

  “It might,” Harlan said, just to be a dick.

  “Fine. We’re strangers. Never met before.”

  “Kinky. I didn’t know you were into role playing.”

  “Is that what you would say to a new customer?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Fine. We’ll play this your way.”

  “Good.” Sawyer’s voice was low and husky. “Dance for me.”

  Harlan stared at Sawyer for a moment, torn. For so long he’d hoped to hear Sawyer say those very words, and now that he had, Harlan didn’t know what to do. Was he fucking with him? Just showing up here tonight in hopes of getting lucky? If that was the case, Harlan was going to make Sawyer work for it.

  Harlan might have been young, but he wasn’t so green behind the ears he was willing to be treated like crap just to get laid. Sex he could get anywhere. What he wanted was a relationship. And he wanted it with Sawyer. If the other man couldn’t see that then he was wasting their time.

  Bracing himself for disappointment, Harlan raised his hands over his head and began to dance. He watched Sawyer from between parted lids and attempted to see him as just another mark, someone who meant no more to him than the next customer waiting outside the door. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. He was so in tune with the other man Harlan even inhaled when Sawyer did. Closing his eyes, he slowed his movements as he focused on the backbeat of the song, trying his best to tune Sawyer out.

  And just as he began to get into it, Sawyer cleared his throat, which caused Harlan to open
his eyes and focus on him. “Mind if I talk while you dance?”

  Sawyer’s request didn’t come as a surprise. Most men didn’t pay just to see him dance up close and personal. They wanted a connection, sometimes more. Harlan wondered which category Sawyer fell in. “Sure, it’s your dollar, Daddy.”

  “Daddy?” Sawyer raised a brow.

  “Some of my older,” Harlan stressed the word just to get Sawyer’s goat, “clients, like it when I call them that.”

  “I’m not one of them.”

  No, he wasn’t. And that was the problem. “You have a preference then? Or do you want to just do the no-name game?”

  “You can call me,” Sawyer picked up his glass, raised it to his lips and took a small sip, “Professor.”

  Sawyer’s choice threw Harlan off beat for a second. Why was he here? Acting like this? Now? “Hmm…sexy.”

  “Speaking of sexy, I caught your dance out there. You’re wonderful. A natural, I’d say.”

  Harlan’s lips quirked. The bastard was using his own words against him. “Thanks to years of practicing.”

  “It shows. You’re phenomenal.” Sawyer downed the last of his drink. “I hear you’re only here for a little longer.”

  Harlan’s body gyrated to the song still playing. “Yeah. Three days.”

  “Pity.” Harlan thought Sawyer couldn’t wait for him to get out of here. “I should have come in a long time ago and caught your act. Maybe you’ll still have a chance to do it on the side.”

  “Only if it’s for a select crowd. I’m done with the big rooms.”

  “How select?”

  “My man only.” Harlan swirled his hips, loving the way Sawyer watched him intently.

  “You’re seeing someone? He must be something to have a man like you.”

  “No. Not really. In fact, I’m thinking he’s not as great as I once thought he was.” Harlan threw the response out as he danced around the room.

  “Really?”

  Harlan snorted. “Yes. He’s the jealous, stupid type.”

  “He’d have to be stupid to piss off a hot little number like you.”

  “Think I’m hot, do you?” The song came to an end and Harlan turned back toward the stereo to change the music.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone hotter in my life.”

  “It’s the g-string.”

  “No.” Sawyer looked up at him earnestly. “I think it’s your eyes. It was the first thing I noticed about you. First thing that drew me in.”

  Harlan paused, his finger frozen over the play button. “Really?”

  “Yes. I think it’s safe to say I’ve been taken with you from day one.”

  Harlan shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t going to give in that easily. If Sawyer wanted a chance with him, a real chance, he was going to have to do more than play silly games. After selecting the next song, something slower this time, Harlan turned back to Sawyer, determined to test the truthfulness of the other man’s words.

  “Tell me something, Professor.” Harlan walked across the room to Sawyer, pausing when he was just inches away from him. He nudged the man’s legs open and turned, sitting down on his lap. “Do you like the way I dance?”

  “Yes.” Sawyer moved his hands up to touch Harlan but stopped, obviously remembering the rules he, and every other private room customer, was given about not touching the merchandise. Harlan was allowed to touch as much as he and the client wanted, as long as it remained above the clothing. Before tonight, Harlan had kept to the rules explicitly. Tonight he was going to see just how far he could bend them.

  “Then maybe you and I can work out a financial arrangement, of some sort.” Harlan undulated his hips, rubbing his ass against Sawyer’s rising cock.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that for the right price, I’ll dance on your lap all night long.”

  Sawyer sat as stiff as stone, not moving a muscle as Harlan rubbed against him. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Really, because my boyfriend does. He even went as far as to make me promise I’d be safe if I met someone at work.” Harlan continued to tease Sawyer, rotating his hips as he had on the stage earlier. From the feel of things, Sawyer was just as enraptured as the audience had been. Good. “If you want me you’ll have to use a condom. Possibly two.”

  “Your boyfriend sounds like a real idiot for giving you the impression he’d be fine with you sleeping with someone else.”

  Harlan couldn’t have agreed more. “I thought the same thing.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Maybe.” Harlan stood, then turned until he was facing Sawyer once more. Smiling seductively, he leaned down and put one hand on either side of Sawyer's neck against the couch. He slowly made his way towards him, push-up style, until his mouth was just inches away from Sawyer’s. “But I think he needs me. He’s the studious sort. Doesn’t get out much. Or have a lot of fun.”

  “I can’t believe someone like you would want to be with someone like him.”

  “What can I say, I like guys with big…” Harlan snaked his body against Sawyer’s, mentally grinning at the way the other man’s eyes were filled with need, “brains. It turns me on.”

  “What else turns you on?”

  “A man who can admit he’s wrong.”

  “Then be prepared to bust a nut.”

  Harlan burst out laughing at the unexpected comment. Giving up all pretense of dancing, Harlan climbed on the couch, putting one leg on either side of Sawyer’s hips and sat down on his lap. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Hopefully forgive me.” Sawyer placed his hands on Harlan’s bare buttocks and pulled him in closer to him. “Then come home with me and let me make it up to you.”

  “That sounds…”

  “Uhhmp.” At the sound of the intruding noise, both men turned their heads to the door, where Shaun was standing, arms crossed over his massive chest.

  “Oh brother,” Sawyer muttered as he raised his hands, waving them a bit in the air to show Shaun.

  “You purchasing another dance?”

  “He still has one more song,” Harlan said, sitting up. Things were just getting good.

  “I don’t think I could handle another.” Sawyer’s husky tone brought Harlan’s gaze back to him. “What time do you get off?”

  “I’m here until midnight.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the club.”

  Harlan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You think you can handle watching me dance for other men?”

  “Are you coming home with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I can handle it.”

  Harlan smiled at the sincerity in Sawyer’s voice. The night was finally looking up. Midnight couldn't arrive fast enough.

  Every clock in the club had to be wrong. Including his watch, because Sawyer couldn’t believe it wasn’t midnight yet. Two hours ago, he figured the night would fly by. Man, was he wrong.

  Each second seemed to take longer than the one before it to pass by. His eagerness to get Harlan home and underneath him was making him antsy. It didn’t help that he was in a darkly lit room with a lot of half-naked men coming by, practically begging to sit on his lap for five minutes of unappeased fun.

  Harlan included. Only he didn’t have to beg, he’d just slip over to Sawyer from time to time, smelling faintly of some other man’s cologne and rub up against him. Just enough to get him riled, before he winked and danced off to his next victim. If that weren’t bad enough, the brat sent a few of his dancing friends over as well, with the explicit order for them to give Sawyer a little free sample of their charms.

  Thanks to Harlan, Sawyer had had more men in his lap in a single night than he had his entire freshman year in school. The brat was purposely keeping him on edge, ensuring Sawyer suffered, and suffered greatly, for his earlier misdeeds.

  Payback was a bitch, all right, and Sawyer had the killer hard-on to prove it. He was horn
y as hell. If they made it past the parking lot, he would be amazed.

  Harlan was such a fucking tease and the bastard wasn’t just doing it from the dance floor. He’d only gone back on stage once more, and that was at the request of another dancer, Inferno, who’d called him out of the audience to come dance with him. Amid mock protests, Harlan joined the sexy African-American dancer and the two of them damn near had the entire club coming in their pants by the end of the show.

  Sawyer had expected to be jealous, but damned if he hadn’t been turned on watching Harlan entwined with the other man. The two men not only complemented each other as dancers but aesthetically, as well. Not that he could really call it dancing, they were basically just dry humping in different positions, much to the enjoyment of the crowd.

  Sawyer was tempted to throw money on the stage himself, but he was sure his twenty would get lost in the sea of green cascading around their feet. When the number was up and the two men finally left the stage, Sawyer gave up his seat and went to the bar in desperate need of a drink. That was exactly where Harlan found him, ten minutes and two drinks later.

  “Hey.” Harlan sidled up beside Sawyer dressed in street clothes and sunglasses.

  “Hey.” Sawyer tried to keep his voice at an even keel, even though he felt anything but. “Nice shades.”

  “Thanks. Helps to let people know I’m off the clock.” Harlan signaled to the bartender, who snagged a bottle of water from under the counter and brought it to him. Harlan slipped him an envelope, then took the water and turned towards Sawyer. “Ready to go?”

  Was he ever? “You done?”

  “Yep, just tipped out.” Harlan gestured with his head towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

  Sawyer downed his whiskey, and then followed behind Harlan, giving the other man plenty of space, so it didn’t look like they were leaving together. He was trying his best to be respectful of Harlan’s job and not ruin the fantasy for the poor schmucks who weren’t as lucky as him to go home with the main attraction.

  When they exited the club and moved away from the front of the building, Sawyer took Harlan’s hand in his, and began to walk with him to the public parking area in the direction of his car.