Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Seven weeks later
Blake
“Pelvic roll, pelvic roll, hand down the chest, turn, pose,” Blake called out, demonstrating the new sequence and watching his dancers in the mirror as they copied his movements.
“Not bad, Gabriel, but turn a little faster next time. Really hit that final pose hard.”
In addition to Enzo and Tenny, three of The Firehouse’s best had joined the Siren crew: Steel – whose real name was Gabriel – with his lean frame and cocky attitude; Aston Martins – who Blake now knew as Miles – popular for his striking blue eyes and British sophistication; and Dom, who’d graduated from go-go boy to full-fledged dancer, and was still beaming with pride over the promotion.
“Let’s try that again, with the music this time.”
Blake jogged over to their new stereo system and started the upbeat track he’d use to open their first show.
He and Tenny had renovated the old dressing room and turned it into a proper rehearsal space.
The antique firemen’s lockers were still there, but the original floor had been refinished, and one wall was hung with mirrors.
Blake still caught himself marveling at the transformation.
It was hard to believe this clean, well-lit studio had once been a dingy pit that always smelled like sweaty balls and body spray.
Blake stepped back and let Tenny guide the guys through a few repetitions. His friend had stepped effortlessly into his role of talent coordinator. The dancers admired him, and the team had an easy camaraderie.
“Dom, on your pelvic rolls, free up your hips a little more.” Tenny demonstrated, his pelvis thrusting and releasing in a fluid wave. “Don’t be afraid to really push that butt out.”
“Like this?” Dom asked, accentuating the movement of his hips.
“Much better. Let’s take it again from the top, guys.”
Blake took off his shirt and wiped his brow.
The guys were gradually picking up the choreography.
Considering they were used to free-form dancing, they were making impressive progress, but the routines needed a lot of polish.
Their movements still felt mechanical, lacking the smooth sensuality Blake was envisioning.
With their grand re-opening only three weeks away, the pressure was mounting. At least the constant hustle kept his mind laser-focused on the club. He didn’t have spare time to obsess over Ethan, which was probably for the best after the way things had ended on closing night.
Right after that heated encounter, they barely saw each other – just two ships passing in the night.
Ethan would come in before class in the morning, and work on things like inventory and organizing Virgil’s office.
Blake worked evenings, deep-cleaning the place and sorting through the rest of the junk on the second floor.
Their conversations on those rare occasions when they crossed paths had been so clipped and professional, almost cold, that Blake was starting to question if they’d be able to function as business partners when the rigors of running a club required them to work side by side.
Once construction started on the new stage, though, Ethan was around more, and things were slowly getting back to normal.
A new normal, at least. Their interactions were friendlier, and every once in a while Blake would turn around and find Ethan looking at him with a smile on his face.
Ethan would quickly look away as if he’d been caught, but Blake took it as a sign that maybe there was still a chance for them.
That optimism flagged a couple weeks ago, when Ethan asked Blake not to go into one of the upstairs dormitories anymore. Blake honored the request, certain that Ethan was setting up a private workspace so they wouldn’t have to share Virgil’s office.
As soon as Blake stepped to the front of the room again, ready to teach his dancers a new sequence, Ethan entered the rehearsal space, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
Dressed for class, he was wearing a pink button-up shirt and tailored chinos.
Blake loved the collegiate preppy look, and his eyes tracked down Ethan’s body, hanging up on his bare ankles and brown penny loafers.
There was a time when Blake wouldn’t get hard for anything less than a naked, jacked muscle god kneeling in front of him with an open mouth.
Now an unexpected flash of Ethan’s ankle was enough to make his dick stir.
Blake chuckled at the contrast between his past and present, and adjusted himself with a discreet tug on the front of his shorts.
“Hi everyone,” Ethan said, letting his backpack slide to the floor.
There was a chorus of hellos from the dancers. Gabriel added, “No more goofing off, Dad’s here,” to which Ethan rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Hey guys, take ten,” Blake said.
Xander, who’d been watching the rehearsal from a chair in the corner, stood and stretched his arms over his head. “You better hydrate, because when you get back, your asses are mine.”
Xander came by a few times a week to train with the dancers, leading them through punishing calisthenics routines that were producing results, transforming men who already looked amazing into even more mouthwatering specimens of lean, sculpted musculature.
It was incredibly generous of him, agreeing to train the entire team for the cost of one personal training session. But since Blake was certain that Xander had slept with all the dancers at least once, the arrangement had its perks.
Blake draped his shirt around his neck and jogged over to Ethan. He stood in front of his business partner with his hands on his hips, pretending to be winded, enjoying the way Ethan stared at his heaving bare pecs.
“You don’t, um…” After a little head shake, Ethan made eye contact with Blake. “You don’t have to stop rehearsal because I’m here.”
Blake waved Tenny over. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
Ethan
Ethan followed Blake and Tenny into the club’s performance space, which smelled of sawdust and fresh paint. Overhead, a worker balanced on a ladder, upgrading the stage’s lighting rig. Two others were laying down laminate boards for the new dance floor.
For the first time since renovations began, Ethan saw glimmers of what Siren would look like on opening night.
The bar had been refinished with wood paneling and now sported a gleaming brass footrail. Red Edison bulbs hung in a row above the bar, providing sultry mood lighting.
In the corner, the new tables and chairs were neatly stacked, ready to be arranged once the floor had been refinished.
Most of the chairs were a classic bentwood design with burgundy cushions, but for the VIP section, they’d splurged on some comfy club chairs.
Those were upholstered with sumptuous leather, dyed a deep green to complement the club’s exposed brick walls.
Classy and sophisticated, on a budget – that had been their North Star for the club’s decor, and somehow they were pulling it off.
Tenny ducked behind the bar and brought out a large, black rectangular board.
“Is it a sign?” Ethan asked.
Blake took a hold of one edge, and together he and Tenny turned the board and propped it against the bar.
Ethan read the gold lettering printed next to line art of a shirtless man, and covered his mouth with both hands.
SIREN PRESENTS:
WHET
THE ALL-MALE REVUE
“You named your show after me?” As someone who rarely felt sexy or particularly desirable, having a burlesque show named after him – especially a show featuring some of the most beautiful men he’d ever met – gave Ethan a pleasant tingling in his belly.
Excited, Blake nodded. “It works, right? We’re going to make the audience wet.”
“Well, whetting their appetites,” Tenny said.
“Probably a bit of both.” Ethan ran his hand along the top of the sign, still not quite believing it was real. “Thank you.”
Tenny gripped Ethan’s shoulder. “Your surprise is ready, too.”
“Already?”
The corner of Tenny’s mouth hooked into a smile. “I may have stayed late last night adding the finishing touches.”
Blake looked between his friends. “What’s going on?”
“Lead the way,” Tenny said to Ethan, sweeping his hand in front of him.
Ethan led them upstairs, to the dormitory he’d barred Blake from entering during the renovations.
“I finally get to see what’s been going on in here, huh?” Blake asked.
Ethan paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Cover your eyes.”
Blake laughed and used a hand to shield his eyes.
“No peeking!” Ethan opened the door and guided Blake inside by his arm. “You can look now.”
Blake lowered his hand and opened his eyes.
The dormitory had been transformed into a sewing studio.
One end of the room was dominated by a wide, sturdy cutting table.
Next to the table was a trio of dress forms – ranging in size from Dom to Tenny.
A brand-new industrial sewing machine, as well as a pressing station with a professional gravity-feed iron, were set up under the room’s large windows, where they’d be bathed with natural light.
Mounted on the wall near the sewing machine was a rack holding every color of thread imaginable.
“Now you don’t have to work out of your bedroom anymore,” Ethan said. “You have a proper costume studio.”
Blake strolled through the room, running his hands along the new equipment. He squatted down and opened the storage bins under the cutting table. They were stocked with snaps, buttons, zippers, and strips of Velcro.
“You did this for me?” he asked, inspecting the hefty cutting shears on the table.
“Yeah. If I missed anything, or you need to exchange anything, we can go to the fabric store––”
Blake hugged Ethan around the waist and lifted him off the floor. “It’s incredible. I love it!”
Ethan’s heart raced as his face landed in the crook of Blake’s neck.
His skin smelled so good, like sweat and a manly deodorant.
Feeling floaty and lightheaded, Ethan inhaled as discreetly as possible.
It’s not weird to sniff your half-naked business partner, right? I mean, I’ve had his dick in my mouth.
At that moment, Blake set him down and took a step back. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.”
“It’s okay.” Ethan nibbled his bottom lip. “You really like it?”
“Are you kidding? It’s a dream come true.”
The door creaked, and both looked over to see Tenny pulling it closed behind him.
Ethan chuckled and hoisted himself up onto the cutting table, letting his legs dangle over the side. “He thinks he’s so subtle,” he said, more to himself than to Blake.
Blake hopped up onto the table next to him. “Tenny?”
“He’s been trying to get us alone whenever he can.”
“He has?”
“Like last Friday, when the three of us were stocking the bar, and he ‘went to the bathroom’ for half an hour.”
“Hmm.”
“Or when the furniture order came and he followed the delivery man out so he could help bring things in, while we unpacked everything.”
Blake scratched his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But why?”
“He thinks if he puts us together alone in a room, our animal passions will overtake us and we’ll start humping.”
Licking his lower lip, Blake asked, “Is it working?”
Ethan looked down at where their thighs were touching. He slowly raised his head, and when his eyes met Blake’s, something electric passed between them.
The heat of Blake’s body was intoxicating. I want to lick the sweat off his pecs.
When Blake shifted closer, tilting his head to the side and leaning in, alarm bells went off in Ethan’s mind.
He slid off the table and stumbled a few steps. “I’m glad you like the sewing room. Hopefully it will make any last-minute costume alterations easier than working in your apartment.”
Blake wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “It’s the best. Thanks again.”
“Sure.” Ethan walked backwards, pointing over his shoulder. “I should, um…” He backed into a dress form, turning quickly and catching it before it crashed to the floor. “Shit. I need to prep my file for the preservation committee hearing on Monday.”
It wasn’t a lie – the hearing for landmark status had snuck up on him, and he had a lot of work to do to build the most persuasive case possible using Caleb’s archive.
Blake hopped down from the pattern table. “Let me know when it’s done, and I’ll feed it through my text-to-speech app and review it.”
Ethan hurried to the door, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. Running away was rude. He should apologize. He looked over his shoulder, and his mouth dropped open.
Blake was watching him with his hands clasped behind his head, revealing the dark hair in his armpits. His biceps were tight, tan mounds of luscious muscle.
Oh, fuck me.
Ethan flashed a quick, awkward smile and hightailed it out of the room.
I’m in trouble.
He and Blake would be alone together a lot, especially if Tenny had his way.
Although it would test the limits of his self-control, he had to behave himself.
He couldn’t jeopardize their working relationship by jumping back into bed with Blake at the first chance he got.
They’d found a good rhythm as business partners, and their friendship had survived the confusion and hurt feelings that followed in the wake of their indiscretion the night The Firehouse closed.
His father’s anger about the club was settling down, too. With each passing week, their conversations were becoming more cordial and less confrontational. At their last family dinner, his dad even asked him about his writing, and showed what seemed like genuine interest in his stories.
So, yeah. No matter how badly he wanted to leap into Blake’s arms and ride him until they were both sweaty and breathless, sex was off the table. He’d set a professional boundary with Blake, and he had to stick with it.
There was only one way he could think of to tamp down his constant horniness – he’d have to jerk off before his shifts at the club.
It was an unconventional solution, but to be fair, not one of his business classes had a case study about opening a strip club with someone whose cock fits perfectly inside your ass.
Or someone you might be in love with.