by Cass Lennox
At the end of the session, Katie fixed them with her evil eye. “Take us to where you were yesterday.”
Tyler didn’t think it wise to refuse and neither did Evie. As if by unspoken consensus, they didn’t return to the spot they’d actually used, choosing instead to set up at a spot closer to the entrance of the park. Evie changed out of her usual gear into a skirt she had ready for the evening, and he changed tops. Katie adjusted Evie’s hair, her hands gentle despite the hard look on her face.
When she finished, she positioned them in front of Brock. “Now,” she glared at them, “do whatever you did yesterday.”
Evie immediately turned away from the camera to face him, and he watched her blush furiously. He gave her a wry smile, then held out his hand with a flourish. “Well? Shall we show them?” She rolled her eyes at him and spun away.
They fumbled the routine intentionally, pretending to be a day earlier in progress, and Katie seemed satisfied with that. Evie brought out Godzilla again and introduced him to the camera for the interview. Tyler picked her up in the middle of her answering a question and pulled her away, spinning her around and making her shriek.
Katie and Brock followed them to where he deposited a laughing Evie. She immediately had Godzilla launch a full-scale air attack at him.
“Is this seriously what you two did?” Katie asked incredulously. “Messed around?”
“Yeah.” He swiped Godzilla from Evie and waved him out of reach. Evie flashed him a knowing look, then abruptly jumped on his back to get the toy. He relinquished it in order to catch her in a piggyback hold and groan. “Jeez, Godzilla, give a guy a break.”
“You two seem to be getting along much better than yesterday,” Katie said. “What happened?”
“Well,” Tyler said, “we talked things out.”
“Yes.” Evie rested her chin on his head. “We decided that, well, whatever people interpret about our behaviour is up for them to decide.”
He nodded. “Right. We’re just having fun here.”
“Indubitably,” Evie said.
He grinned. “You’re so British.”
Godzilla mashed into the side of his face. “What else would I be?”
“You could try being older than nine,” Katie muttered. She turned to Brock. “That’s a cut for today. I’m past done here. See you tomorrow.” And with that, she turned and walked away.
Brock nodded, packed the camera up, saluted Evie and Tyler, then hurried after her.
“I don’t think she’s a fan of ours,” Evie said thoughtfully.
“You don’t say.”
She was warm on his back. The smell of her skin and sweat surrounded him, and it bordered on intoxicating. Almost as good as the feeling of her thighs in his hands where he gripped them. He wanted to slide his hands along her legs, but instead he let her down gently. She came around to face him, Godzilla tucked under one arm. “This documentary had better be brilliant.”
He snorted. “I have my doubts. Not because of her but because of who she’s filming.”
“I wonder how the Cherry Studios lot is doing,” Evie mused.
“I don’t care.” Tyler pulled her towards him. “All my attention is here.”
She grinned up at him. “Charmer.” They kissed, and Tyler revelled in how the world faded away and everything in him surged towards her. Her tongue flickered into his mouth, teasing him. He responded by winding his fingers into her hair and pulling her tighter against him. So soft, so sweet in his arms. He let himself get lost in the taste of her, the feel of her—
His phone buzzed. They ignored it.
Evie started making soft little noises that went straight to Tyler’s crotch. He’d missed this, missed touching and feeling another person. Mouth and skin and hands. It was heady and intense, and he swam in the sensations of her.
Then her phone rang.
Annoyance broke the mood. They parted, breathless. Evie rested her forehead against his. “One day,” she murmured, “we’ll have to turn those bloody things off.”
“Are you free on Sunday?”
“After the parade, yes.”
“Come out with me and turn your phone off.”
She smiled. “All right.”
“I have to go soon. I have work.”
“Can you stay a little longer?”
Warmth filled his chest at that request. She wants me to stay. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate this too. How amazing it was that she was happy just to spend time with him like this. He knew this was basic stuff, but not everyone was content with hugging in silence.
Her lips pressed against his neck and her fingers trailed languidly up and down his back. Slow and sweet. Infinitely sweet.
There was only so much time, however, and he soon kissed her good-bye.
His work tonight was a one-off job as a backup dancer at the Cave on Church Street. It was a gay bar as well as a performance venue, and he’d performed at gigs there a few times before. He generally liked the place, but he always had reservations doing work like this. (Lucette had hated this kind of job, but that didn’t matter anymore.)
The job itself wasn’t the problem, and even mixing amongst the usual clientele afterward generally didn’t give him issues. It was the nonqueer guests who could be problematic, the ones who came to see the artist and weren’t used to the variety of people in queer spaces. The ones who inspired a constant thrum of fear someone would grope him, realize he wasn’t exactly filling out the same way as the other boys, and turn nasty.
He packed for occasions like this, or tried to, but he wasn’t used to dancing with a packer. A dance belt, yes, but a packer in a dance belt was just acutely uncomfortable and unnecessary. The close changing quarters meant swapping a dance belt for a packer was a washroom job, and after a performance he was often too tired to care. Normally he left the dance belt on and tried to squeeze a rolled-up sock or something down there to fill it out. Less than ideal.
He wouldn’t bother at all if he didn’t need the money and if he didn’t get better feedback (and bookings) when he did have something meaty-looking filling out his pants.
On the way there, he checked his phone and found a text from Gigi.
Gigi: Really wish you could come out tonight
Tyler: Yeah, me too. Shame.
Gigi: What’s the job again?
Tyler: Backup dancer at the Cave. I think it’s an Aqua tribute band.
Gigi: JFC. NO WAY ughhh enjoy and remember to wash your pants when you get home
Tyler: That would be *your* standard night out, Gigi, not mine.
Gigi: :3
He put his phone away and got out of the subway at Bloor-Yonge, ducking through the crowds towards Church. He walked quickly, wanting as much time to prepare and rehearse as possible. He’d had to practise the routine in whatever free time was left between class, training, and the Pride sessions with Evie, and it looked like he would only have about half an hour to get it down with the other dancers.
When he arrived at the stage door, he was ushered inside and given a pair of leather pants by the stage manager. He stared at them, aghast. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. The other dancers have them on already,” she said. “Go.”
He made his way to the changing room. Three half-naked men turned towards him as he entered, all of them wearing the same pants.
“What the hell are these?” he asked, holding the pants up.
“Well hello to you too, gorgeous,” a twink with curly brown hair said. He was applying eyeliner with a very steady hand.
“The uniform,” another guy growled, looking uncomfortable. He was bulky, and the pants looked ready to burst on him.
“How are we supposed to move in them?” Tyler demanded.
“With difficulty,” the final guy, a bearded hipster with snake hips, said. Tyler stared at him as he tried to swing his leg to the side and couldn’t.
“I’m not gonna move.” The twink gazed over his shoulde
r at his reflection in the only mirror. “Just stand and let them admire.” His ass, neatly showcased in the pants, visibly bounced as he contracted his glutes.
“Please tell me you’re wearing underwear,” Tyler said as the door opened behind him and the stage manager looked in.
“Two minutes to rehearsal,” she snapped before closing the door again.
Fuck. Tyler rushed to the side of the room and quickly changed. He pulled a tight tank on and was still struggling to button the pants over his dance belt as he walked out of the dressing room. He was lucky the pants fit over his thighs and butt. Barely. And he was ecstatic for once that he only had a sock in his dance belt, because anything larger would ensure he’d never be able to get the pants on, let alone off again. Much as he sometimes wished he had the real thing, moments like these made him very glad he didn’t. The other guys, excepting the twink, looked like they were ready to cry.
On the stage, the curtain separated them from the main bar and the early birds already there. The stage manager handed a set list to the lead dancer—Beardy Snake Hips—and walked out.
“You’ve all practised the moves?” Beardy asked them. They all nodded. “Good. Let’s run through them. If you mess up, just touch yourself until you can join back in again.”
The run-through went without any major hiccups, beyond being unable to do the long reach steps some of the moves demanded. Tyler found the more he moved in them, the more the pants stretched and allowed room. Okay. This is gonna be okay. He let himself relax a little.
By the time the band had set up and were in position, Tyler could even do up the top button. He left it undone to add to the sex appeal, and managed to quickly apply eyeliner and basic makeup to match the other guys. He grinned at himself in the mirror—Lucette would have flipped.
The dancers took their places, the curtain went up and it was showtime. Sweaty, grim, constricted showtime. Which actually went well enough until the twink “accidentally” partnered with him during “Barbie Girl” and ground his ass up against him, and Tyler had to improvise. Tyler was pretty sure the guy just wanted to show off—and hey, he could roll with that. So he let loose and danced with him, even managing a slap or two on that bouncing ass—all in the name of nineties-inspired fun. After all, what were gigs like this meant for except fun (and money), right? Okay, the money was awesome, but being free to do this, to be sexual and show his body off without worrying about people judging his technique, felt wonderful.
Even with an overenthusiastic twink helping him, by the time the curtain went down, Tyler was more than ready to rip the pants off and go home. He made for the changing room, the pants sticking tighter to him with sweat. The twink patted him on the shoulder as he hobbled past. “Good job, honey.”
Back in the changing room, he joined the other guys in removing his pants with great sighs of appreciation—all of them except the twink, who kept his on.
“I am getting laid tonight,” he declared.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Bulked asked.
“Ooh, I don’t know.” He made eyes at Tyler. “It depends.” Tyler gave the tiniest shake of his head, and the twink pouted, then turned his attention to Bulked. “You gonna buy me a drink?”
Tyler dumped his stuff in the cloakroom, then worked his way through the crowd to the bar. A few patrons, male and female, recognized him from the set and eyed him lingeringly, but he ignored them. At the bar, the bartender nodded at him and passed him a glass of water. Tyler felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he drank it.
Gigi: Were those pants spray-painted on?
Gigi: Also, introduce me to that twink who practically fucked you on stage.
A chill went through him. All the sounds of the bar and people faded. He looked up and cast around. There, near a small table a few feet away from him, was Gigi, and with him was Sarah and Evie. She looked amazing, her hair down and eyes made up and a cute dress and—was that glitter across her chest and face?
Wait. She’d seen him? Seen him grinding against guys on stage to a fucking Aqua tribute band? Lucette had always given him grief about taking jobs like that, and oh man, he didn’t want another lecture ever, ever again—
His stomach dropped and his lungs tightened. He struggled for breath. The bar around him seemed even farther away now, and suddenly the noise was sucked out of it. All he could hear was his heart pounding. His vision narrowed to focus entirely on his friends’ faces. Shit, what was wrong with him? His entire body was poised to fly away, or to drop to the floor, and that made no sense. These were his friends.
Evie turned and saw him. Her eyes lit up and she gave him a big grin, cutting the anxious chatter in his head like a switch.
Okay. Okay. That was a good sign. She’d seen it and was happy.
Relief flowed through his system like cool water. Suddenly his lungs remembered how to do their job, and he took in a big, shaky breath. Jeeesus. Keep it together. Head clear and chest loose, he grabbed his water and walked over to them.
Gigi gave him a massive hug. “You were on fire!” he yelled above the noise. “How the fuck did you move in those pants?”
Trust Gigi to focus on the important things, rather than on Tyler’s seconds-long mini-freakout. Tyler was sure Gigi had found his expression hilarious, the asshole. “With great difficulty,” he replied.
Gigi waggled his eyebrows. “You filled them out sooo well.”
Tyler choked on his water.
“That was amazing,” Sarah squealed, hugging him too. “Every time I see you dance, I just get blown away.”
“Me too.” Evie pulled him close and kissed his cheek. He could smell beer on her breath. “You’re so gorgeous in leather. And with those guys.” She gestured floppily. “You know? The other cute guys also in leather.”
“Yeah?” he asked nervously. She nodded emphatically. Good. That was good. But seriously, this was Evie, the girl who was so chill it was unreal. He had to start remembering that. “I didn’t think you swung that way,” he teased.
“I’m a fujoshi,” she replied, as if that answered him.
He turned to Gigi. That traitor. “I take it coming here was your idea?”
Gigi grinned. “Oh yeah.” He threw an arm around Tyler and yanked him away from the women. “Jesus Christ those two can drink. I knew Sarah could, but God, they breed them different in England.”
Tyler frowned. “How much has she had?”
“More than me, and she’s barely tipsy. Fucking hard-core. Get her on the dance floor and show her what you’ve got already.”
“Not sure you noticed, man, but we’ve been dancing together all week? She’s seen what I’ve got.” Dance-wise, at least.
“Yeah, but you’re competing against a guy who curates art.”
“No, I’m not, Gigi.” Tyler held him steady, making sure to drive home his point. “We’re not rivals.”
Gigi patted his shoulder happily. “That’s the right attitude. He’s not even in the same league as you. And look, she actually screamed with me when you fondled that twink’s ass. She loved it. She’s down no matter what you do. Now go get her.”
Tyler was about to say he’d spent over three hours dancing with her that day and was ready to drop from an actual performance, but his hand was taken. He looked over to see Evie with an intent expression on her face. She said something he couldn’t hear, and he leaned in closer.
“What?”
“Dance with me.” Her eyes sparkled under the lights from the dance floor. “Not the routine.”
Screw it. He was too tired to argue. He downed the rest of his water and led her out onto the dance floor. She got up close and held her phone to his face so he could read the screen.
Evie: At the Cave. Gonna be here awhile.
Brock: I’ll be there in 20.
His message had been sent two minutes ago. Tyler blinked, then focused on Evie. She held up a finger to his lips and glanced towards the entrance. They could see it better from the dance floor than Gigi could n
ear the bar.
Hell. “And I thought you actually wanted to dance with me!” Tyler shouted to be heard over the music.
“I do!” she shouted back, putting her phone away into— Wait, were those pockets in her dress? Damn. Awesome.
Tyler shook his head. Gripped her waist. Then was shocked when she twisted in his hands and started grinding against him. But why, right? Like, because she was asexual, she couldn’t or wouldn’t want to do that? Nah, screw that noise. Time to let the music take them wherever they needed to go, bumping along like the rest of the men and women around them. Everyone was packed in tight and close, a sweaty, writhing mass.
Eventually they faced each other again, knees and hands grazing. Seconds passed like eons as he drew Evie closer against him. She put one arm over his shoulder and eased them into a hot kiss, encouraging him to close his eyes and melt against her. She tasted like beer. He wanted to push her against a nearby wall and see how much glitter he could kiss off her skin.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Brock walk in the door. His expression must have changed, because Evie frowned, then turned around. She shot a gleeful look back at Tyler, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards Brock.
Tyler had to admit, the man cleaned up well. A tight shirt clung to his frame, his jeans had to have been greased in order for him to get them on, his hair was styled, and there was definitely subtle eyeliner happening. The overall effect was fierce and brooding. Absolutely no trace of the cuddly, hoodie-clad student here.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them nervously.
“You made it!” Evie said. She flicked a glance towards Tyler.
He knew instantly what she was thinking. “I’ll get Gigi onto the dance floor.”
“You have glitter on your face,” Brock said to Tyler. He glanced between them. “Wait, both of you—”