Beings of Dark Water (Other Realm Beings #3)
Chapter 1
“Welcome to the stage, Cowboy Connor!”
Cheers mixed with the dramatic lighting above the stage, moving in zigzags as I started stomping down the stage in the cowboy getup I’d been plagued to wear every night for the past couple months.
As was typical, I let my mind wander while I started gyrating my hips once I grabbed the metal pole fortified at the end of the stage.
Being a stripper had its perks, i.e. the money.
But even beyond that, I never really felt bothered that people were objectifying me for my body.
As long as my bills stayed paid, I could really give a shit.
So much of my life had changed in the past couple months that I was feeling very…
I don’t know. Unsupported, maybe? That was ridiculous though.
Just because Bas had recently moved out of our apartment a week ago didn’t mean that he stopped being in my corner.
My heart knew that. My head was a different story.
I heard the musical cues shift, telling me that it was about time to rip off my tearaway chaps to reveal my cowboy themed underwear.
Before I’d debuted this routine and it had become a fan favorite, I’d never known that underwear could be fringed.
It did look good on me, showing off the ass I worked hard to maintain.
I only wished I hadn’t pigeonholed myself into only doing this routine.
Dancing was my escape. Now that Bas was living with Kroven, his sangamar boyfriend who needed to consume blood to continue breathing, I was on my own.
Or I should have been. I was Bas’ number one fan, so I was over the moon for him that he was happy with his Orb boyfriend.
But it had been a week since he’d moved out, which meant it was time for me to deal with the fact that my estranged twin brother had moseyed into town unannounced.
I wasn’t ready to deal with Troian. We had a very tumultuous and tricky past, one I wasn’t readily available to face.
Even though I had a million questions for him about what the fuck he was doing in Piper, I’d been able to skirt around letting him come by the apartment since Bas had moved out.
I feared that my allotted time in dodging it was coming to a quick end.
The lights above me shifted again and I pulled off my chaps to reveal my fringed jock, turning my ass to the crowd as they hollered loudly and obscenely.
I was far from an amateur here at Downpour, and our clientele was almost entirely male Orbs looking to indulge in the classic human fantasies that usually dealt with stereotyped outfits. Hence the cowboy getup.
After I let the crowd gawk at my ass for a few beats, I swung my body back on the metallic pole, careful not to catch my bare skin on it now that I was wearing considerably less. My brain went on autopilot again as I worked on finishing the rest of my routine.
I was so glad I was off tomorrow. Maybe I could escape the city, get out of town so I could keep avoiding Troian.
But then again, if I kept avoiding him, I knew that I’d eventually have to see what he was doing here and how long he was planning on staying.
He’d already checked up on me twice since Bas moved out, asking to talk.
The messages had remained unopened and unresponsive intentionally.
I sighed inwardly. Maybe just getting it the fuck over with would make me feel better.
Another reason I was feeling out of sorts was because I’d been thinking about going back to grief group.
With Bas leaving, my best friend and greatest crutch was halfway across town.
And with Troian showing up in Piper out of fucking nowhere, I thought maybe going back would be a good idea.
They’d been instrumental in me processing and grieving the death of my parents, and that’s where I’d first met Bas in the first place.
While I was trying to sort out all the change afflicting my life, going back to the place that had helped me regulate myself didn’t seem like the worst idea.
I hit my mark just as the music crescendoed and ended, turning my head over my shoulder to watch the crowd.
Playfully, I reached behind myself and smacked my ass for them, the audience going insane and loudly hollering for it.
A smirk danced along my lips as the heat of the lights faded out, the end of my set finally arriving.
I heard the announcer queueing up the next performer as I strode back across the stage to the way I’d entered, down the small steps that was hidden behind the curtain.
Stepping down into the employees only area behind the scenes, my boss came sauntering over to me. It wasn’t unusual for her to come backstage and congratulate the performers as they did their routines, but she’d just done that to me last night, so my nerves were on red alert as she approached me.
The owner of Downpour was a tall order of a brunette woman, looking both soft because of her features as well as intimidating because of the emerald green pant suit she always wore, complete with purple embellishment jewelry consisting of gold earrings, a purple snake brooch, and a series of necklaces that just somehow worked.
As one of the very few straight performers, I was part of a small subject of employees that found Evangeline hot as hell.
But I never mixed business and pleasure unless I was getting paid a hell of a lot more money.
“Cowboy Connor,” She said to me with a simple grin. Connor was my performer name, the cowboy getting added after my routine had taken off with the customers. “Excellent as always.”
“Thanks, Evie.” When she didn’t leave, I got the hint that I’d been right earlier: she wasn’t just there to say ‘good job, champ’. Sighing, I crossed my arms. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” She giggled sharply, replacing her laugh with an even sharper look of guided intent. “You’ve been requested in one of the private suites.”
Eyebrows knitting confusion, I turned my head away from her in the direction of the obscured crowd.
I never got requested. Ever. Plus, I didn’t exactly want to dance privately for anyone.
That wasn’t something I was interested in.
But clearly my routine was taking off even more if people were now requesting a private dance from me.
I wasn’t sure I liked where Cowboy Connor’s attention was headed.
“But I don’t do private requests.” I said matter of factly.
We had private areas within the club, but they weren’t exactly what I would consider private.
They were more like VIP areas separated by a curtain that could be closed if you wanted the illusion of privacy.
Another reason why I didn’t do private requests was because there were three types that requested any of the all-male performers at Downpour: queer Orbs that wanted to get boned up personally by the performers, female Orbs that liked what they saw and wanted to see it up close and personal, and human women, usually traveling in a group, that were part of a bachelorette party.
I wanted no part in any of those avenues.
Get in, do my routine, collect my bag, and leave.
That’s what appealed to me about working at Downpour and I wasn’t interested in changing things up.
Things were changing too much in my personal life, I didn’t need my work life altering too.
“You do now,” Evangeline nodded, holding up a wad of cash. “They’ve already paid upfront. Get to suite three after you change, please.”
I huffed, giving her a hard stare. “Fine, but can we talk about this later?”
“Of course, Connor.” She said my stage name with a purr. She knew my real name but we always went by stage names when we were working. “Whatever you need.”
Giving her an obedient tilt of my head, I went to the locker room of sorts that the performers switched outfits in. We had places to put our personal belongings as well, not that I usually kept much on me other than my phone, wallet, and keys.
Serpentining through the backroom area of the club, I ambled into the performers only room with dread weighing down my usual post-performance high like my mind was tethered to metal balloons.
I didn’t want to do the private session, but knowing that Evangeline had been paid up front, as opposed to afterwards like was customary for private sessions, I had no choice but to get it over with.
I huffed to myself, sensing a theme forming in my life.
Heading to my locker, I scoffed seeing the label ‘Thayer / Connor’ above the little cubby where I’d left my things.
I took a quick glance at my phone, already seeing another text from Troian calling me an asshole for ghosting him.
As much as I wanted to text back that he was an asshole for bombarding my life with his sudden presence, I swallowed my fears all the way down and texted him back, telling him I was ready to talk, but that we could plan when I wasn’t at work.
He didn’t respond right away, not that I blamed him, so I dropped my phone back where it had been and started to peel off the remains of my Cowboy Connor costume, quickly replacing them with my usual skimpy shorts, this time in a shade of lime green, and my grey slip on shoes.
“Hey, Thayer.” I heard from one of the new guys, a buff blond who was gaining a fan club because of his bulge. It was seriously oversized, not that I was into that kind of thing. But it was the kind of big that you couldn’t help but notice.
I gave him a curt nod. “Hey, Joe.”
He stared knowingly into my brown eyes. “Aren’t you usually done for the night?”
Sighing, I added, “Usually, I’d wait around for the finale ensemble dance. But I’ve been privately requested, cash up front.” I rolled my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to oblige the order.
“Hell, maybe you’ll get a great tip.” Joe said innocently. “Orbs love pining for the straight guys.” He smiled.
He was one of three heterosexual guys like myself that danced at the club, but the only other one on shift tonight. The rest of the performers identified as some sort of queer one way or another.
“Great job tonight, Thayer.” said Rocky, one of the other performers, as he peeled out of his shorts. We were all fairly used to being naked around one another at this point. “The crowd goes fucking wild for Cowboy Connor.”
“A blessing and a curse,” I muttered.
“He’s just a sourpuss because he’s been requested to give a private dance.” Joe mused, shaking his head.
“Hell, that’s where the money is!” Rocky said. “Handsy fuckers usually feel bad for crossing the line and tip like crazy, dude. Take it as a blessing.”
I told him I’d try as I bid them farewell and headed to the front of the club. It was going to take every ounce of willpower for me to get through this private dance, knowing I would be unable to disassociate like I normally did during my routines on stage.
By the time I made it to the suite that Evangeline had mentioned, I saw two Orbs talking to someone inside the suite, obscured from my view.
As I approached, I could tell that the Orbs in question were drunk off their asses.
They were virces, covered in blue and green scales like that of a fish, but otherwise fairly human-looking.
The pair of them looked related, sharing the same dirty blond hair and the pension for vintage rock band t-shirts.
“Cowboy Connor!” Nirvana Shirt said, giving me a giddy smile that I really didn’t give two shits about. “Our boy here is a big fan.” He gestured into the suite, but I still couldn’t see the Orb inside.
“It’s our gift to him to have a private dance with you,” Motley Crue shirt stated. “He’s really into you.”
“Will you guys give it a rest,” This third voice came from the Orb sitting inside the suite, shifting in his seat within the makeshift room so that I could see him.
They all spoke like they had the slightest bit of water in their mouths, but it still sounded smooth to listen to somehow. “I’m sorry about them.”
He was also virces, lathered in the green and blue scales from head to toe.
His brown hair contrasted his friends perfectly, and he was donning a simple black short sleeved shirt and cut off black shorts.
An intricate necklace hung from his neck, a swirling teal liquid slightly sloshing inside as he moved.
Looking back at his buddies, I noticed they had the same necklace with the same strange liquid inside.
Maybe it was some sort of virces thing that I wasn’t meant to understand and I certainly wasn’t going to ask about it.
I was here to get this private dance over with.
“It’s fine,” I shrugged, placing my hands on my hips and giving the Orb in the suite a look. “We doing this?”
“We don’t have to if—”
“But where would the fun be in that?” I said, playing the part as best I could, pretending that I lived to dance for this guy when I would have rather been just about anywhere else. I glanced back to his friends. “Sorry, boys. You might have paid upfront, but it doesn’t cover three.”
“Enjoy, bro.” Nirvana said. “We’ll go watch the next show while you get your guy.”
“Yeah, enjoy yourself for fucking once!” Motley Crue agreed.
The Vintage Rock boys left me with the virces in the suite, and I gave a light thrust of my hips, relishing in the way his golden eyes shone when I did so.
“How do you want me?”