Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Blake
Blake and Ethan ducked backstage for their final checks before the show began.
The backstage area was roomy and organized now, with garment racks and touch-up stations to each side of the stage.
To honor the beloved club that had paved the way for his success, Blake had placed Virgil’s stool in the corner where he always watched the shows.
On a small shelf nearby, he displayed a shot glass from The Firehouse along with one of Virgil’s thoroughly cleaned beanbag ashtrays.
Blake was dressed in a sleeveless black T-shirt and jeans, the last-minute costume the guys had pulled together for the opening number.
After twenty minutes of throwing around ideas, they concluded that the only article of clothing they all had in their closet was a pair of dark jeans.
While the dancers ran home to grab their jeans, Henry added black T-shirts to his shopping list. They’d be going barefoot for the opening number, so they could save the new black boots for the finale.
The costume was a bit minimal for Blake’s liking, but if they did their jobs right the audience wouldn’t be looking at the costumes for long.
Ethan was decked out in the classic “crew” uniform: black jeans and a black hoodie screen-printed with the Siren logo. He would be managing the backstage area as much as possible, until the grand finale, which he’d promised to watch from the wings.
Henry was near the stage entrance, rolling his shoulders and opening his mouth as wide as possible to warm up his jaw muscles.
He was decked out in one of Enzo’s pink sequin blazers, his hair blow-dried and styled into a sleek pompadour – a stark contrast to his usual conservative side part.
Enzo was a tough act to follow, with his dashing good looks and boisterous stage persona, but Henry was holding his own.
Blake whistled and fanned himself. “Looking good, Hen.”
“Quinn helped me get ready.” Henry pawed at his shirt’s neckline. With four buttons undone, the shirt fell open in a dramatic vee, showing off the hairy valley between his pecs. “This isn’t too much?”
Blake wasn’t accustomed to seeing Henry so exposed, but he had a surprisingly nice body hidden under all those ties and boring button-ups. “Very sexy,” Blake assured him. “The audience will eat it up.”
Henry smiled and motioned toward the stage with his chin. “It’s a full house.”
Blake and Ethan peeked around the leg curtain that hid the backstage area. Couples and groups were seated around every table. Several clusters of people milled around the bar.
Directly in front of center stage, Blake had reserved a table for a special guest, someone he literally could not have done this without: Joel Mazer.
Joel sat with an attractive man sporting a buzzcut and stubble beard.
The two men held hands and gazed into one another’s eyes with dreamy expressions. Joel had never looked happier.
Blake reached for Ethan’s hand. “Be honest. Do you think we can pull this off?”
“I do.”
“What if the guy’s forget their moves? There were so many last-minute changes to the music, and the lighting…”
Ethan squeezed Blake’s hand. “Trust your team. We had a setback, but we all met it head-on. Maybe the show won’t be exactly as you envisioned it, but there will be more shows in the future. A lot more shows.”
“I don’t want to let anyone down.”
Ethan gripped his biceps. “You wanted to build this club for the community. Look out there, babe. The community’s here. And they aren’t here for any specific number or routine. They’re here for you.”
Blake leaned forward and kissed the tip of Ethan’s nose.
“Come on, let’s go rally the troops.” Ethan turned to Henry. “Ten minutes ’til showtime.”
They made their way to the back rehearsal space, where all the performers had convened. During shows, it doubled as the green room, and tonight the space buzzed with pre-show excitement.
Zane tuned his guitar, while Dustin arranged props on the table he’d wheel onto the stage for his magic act. In the back corner, Sully, their guest comedian, filed through a stack of index cards, silently practicing his jokes.
Tenny and his friends gathered near the mirrors, making final preparations for the opening number. Hunter leaned against the wall, cleaning his dirty soles with wet wipes. While Rhys lined Gus’s eyes, Tenny spritzed cologne onto each of their necks.
“What’s that for?” Gus asked. “The audience won’t be able to smell us.”
“It’s for us,” Tenny said. “It’s easier to feel sexy when you smell like cologne rather than sweat.”
Gus sniffed his armpit. “Fair point.”
Blake scanned the room, his chest swelling with pride. A show he designed and choreographed was minutes away from taking the stage. His creative vision was coming to life – with the help of his closest friends and a few guys he’d met fourteen hours ago.
Ethan whispered to Blake, “Time for the inspirational pep talk.”
“Right.” Blake clapped his hands. “If I could have everyone’s attention.”
The room fell silent, and everyone turned to face Blake. “I just wanted to say thank you, for your support. I know it was a long day, but we pulled through, and we’re going to give them an amazing show.”
“Damn right!” Tenny said, leading the room in a round of cheers and applause.
Blake held his palms together over his mouth, overcome by gratitude he couldn’t hope to express in words. There’s only one thing that could make this moment better – having all my dancers here with me.
As if summoned, a familiar voice said, “Hey, boss.”
Blake turned to find Aston, Steel, Dom, and Enzo standing near the door to the hallway. They looked like death warmed over, with sunken eyes and pale skin. Dom sipped from a bottle of blue Gatorade.
Enzo stepped forward with a bouquet of roses, peonies, and gerbera daisies, in fiery shades of red and orange, with a few yellow accents leaping out like sparks. “Congratulations, from all of us.”
“Thanks, guys,” Blake said, accepting his flowers, his throat thick with emotion. It was so good to see them all on their feet again. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but sometime during the last few months they’d become a family. “You should be home resting, though.”
“We couldn’t miss the show, love,” Aston said. “We all wish we could be on stage with you, but we’ll be in the audience, cheering you on.”
“I love you guys.” Blake hugged each of his dancers, and waved as they left to take their seats.
A sudden, throbbing bass beat vibrated the walls, and the synth-heavy melody from the sexy video that opened the show echoed through the backstage area.
A shiver of excitement ran down Blake’s spine. This is it.
Tenny wrapped his beefy arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Hey big guy, it’s showtime.”
The opening number had been a blast – setting a sexy, high-energy tone for the rest of the show.
While Rhys and his friends hurried up to the dressing room to change and rehearse for their next number, Blake and Tenny stayed backstage and stripped down to their underwear, exchanging their jeans for tight leather pants.
Tenny buckled Blake into his harness. “That went well.”
“It did.” Tenny turned around so Blake could return the favor. “The guys are great. For someone who’s never done this before, Hunter really got into it.”
When it came time for his brief solo, Hunter had rolled and thrust his hips the way Blake had showed him, but then cupped his bulge and lifted his shirt to give a peek at his abs.
“It can be really liberating,” Tenny said. “Remember that rush the first time people cheered to see your body?”
Blake remembered. As a kid who was sometimes mocked for his weight, being objectified and applauded for his appearance was like a drug. Chasing that high shaped his entire career.
He and Tenny stepped into their boots and donned their caps, completing their transformation into classic leather men.
On the stage, Dustin called for someone in the audience to join him on stage for a game of strip magic.
“The rules are easy,” he explained, once a fit, handsome man in a pink polo was seated beside him.
“If I guess the card you picked, you lose a piece of clothing. If I guess wrong, I strip. Ready?”
Dustin fanned the cards, and had the volunteer select one and show it to the audience. He returned it to the deck, and Dustin shuffled, explaining that he’d trained his cards so that the correct one always jumped to the top of the deck. He turned over the top card. “Is this your card?”
“Yeah,” the guy said. With the audience cheering him on, he slowly took off his polo and swung it in circles it over his head before setting it in his lap.
“Nice pecs, man,” Dustin said as he shuffled the deck for round two. This time when Dustin turned over the top card, the volunteer’s eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s not my card.”
“What?” Dustin examined the card. Hmm, well that never happens.” He set down his cards and stripped off his shirt, letting it drop to the stage.
“Let’s try again.” Dustin selected a different card from the deck, displaying it triumphantly. “This is it, right?” When the guy shook his head, Dustin toed off his shoes, mumbling under his breath the whole time.
A smile spread across Blake’s face when he caught on to what was happening. This was a trick Dustin had practiced with him months ago. If he was right, Dustin already had the correct card hidden somewhere on his body.
Dustin guessed wrong a third time and threw the cards to the stage. “What the hell! I’m going to be naked soon.” He shimmied out of his pants, revealing the corner of a card peeking over the waistband of his underwear.
“Oh, what’s this?” He pulled the card out of his underwear. “Is this your card?”
The man nodded, dumbstruck, and the audience erupted into applause.
Backstage, Zane stepped up next to Blake and Tenny, carrying his guitar. He was wearing a clingy lace tank top and had shaved his chest for the occasion. His nipples formed dark shadows behind the sheer material.
“I’m ready for my close-up,” he joked.
“Where’s Ethan?” Blake asked. “I thought he was performing with you?”
“He’s in the audience, watching the show. I’ll pretend to randomly pick him.”
Dustin jogged off the stage, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s a great crowd tonight. All warmed up for you.”
“Thanks, babe,” Zane said, blowing a kiss to Dustin. He lifted his guitar strap over his head and rolled his shoulders. With a final look at Blake and Tenny, he smirked. “Love the leather, guys.”
When Zane walked out into the spotlight, he was greeted by enthusiastic applause and a few cheers of “We love you, Zane,” which reminded Blake that he was gaining a following in the city’s indie music scene.
Zane “randomly” picked Ethan from the audience, who played along with mock reluctance before hopping up on the stage.
He winked at Blake as he passed. This was the first time Blake was seeing the two perform “Masculine”.
It was fun watching Ethan get dressed up like a butch stereotype, and the audience was loving it too, if their applause and whoops of laughter were any indication.
As Zane finished the last song in his set, Tenny pinched Blake’s butt and shot him a salacious grin.
“Ready to fake-fuck?” he asked.
“Let’s get ’em hard. And wet,” Blake added, unaccustomed to having so many women in the audience.
His and Tenny’s number was the night’s first full-on sensual act, and things were about to get hot.
Once Zane came backstage, offering a final wave to his adoring fans, the stage went dark. Blake and Tenny walked to the center of the darkened stage, and got into position. Blake buried his face in the crook of Tenny’s shoulder and hiked up his leg so Tenny could grab his ass.
Crimson light flooded the stage, and the sultry, glitchy opening beats of Banks’s “Gimme” echoed through the club.
Blake and Tenny’s opening movements were languid and dreamy, as if they’d been frozen at the height of passion and were slowing thawing, hands roaming over each other’s chests, bodies sliding together in sinuous waves.
For big, muscular guys, they were surprisingly fluid, years of practice honing their skill and reflexes. Tenny’s warm, masculine scent wrapped around Blake, cologne tinged with musk, awakening memories of sweaty sex on summer nights, of how Tenny felt inside.
Their bodies had always been attuned, had always fit together effortlessly. Blake gave himself over to the dance, trusting that Tenny would always be there to meet him.
As the act progressed, they flowed into scorching-hot sexual vignettes.
Blake dropping to his knees in front of Tenny, his face inches from his crotch, while his fingers trailed up Tenny’s hairy chest to his nipples.
Tenny bending over and arching his back while Blake grabbed his hips and thrust against his ass.
They ended with a floor routine, rolling in each other’s arms, switching between dominant and submissive. For their last vignette, Tenny rolled onto his back, his legs in the air, and Blake settled over him, grinding his pelvis against Tenny in time with the music.
Their eyes locked, chests heaving, and something unspoken passed between them. Tenny gripped the straps of Blake’s harness and pulled him into a kiss. They hadn’t planned it, but once they started, they couldn’t stop. The kiss deepened into a passionate, filthy tangle of tongues.
It wasn’t a romantic kiss, although Blake would always have fond feelings for his friend and former lover. It wasn’t a sexual kiss, because Blake’s body belonged to Ethan now.
It was a kiss of comfort, a celebration of everything they’d been through together, a bonding moment between best friends.
The lights shut off, plunging the stage into darkness, leaving the rest of the scene to the audience’s imagination.
As the audience roared, Blake stood and offered his hand, helping Tenny up off the floor.
“God, man, that was hot.”
“Yeah.” Blake’s lips still tingled from the rasp of Tenny’s stubble.
When they got backstage, Tenny high-fived Blake. “Nailed it! One more to go.” He asked Blake to unbuckle his harness, then jogged off to the rehearsal room.
Blake hung back, dabbing his brow with a towel from the touch-up station. The kiss wasn’t awkward or weird. But it should be. What went through Ethan’s mind when he watched that?
Henry introduced the comedian Sullivan James, and as much as Blake would have loved to listen to his set to distract himself from his confused, racing thoughts, he had to get ready for the finale.
As he crossed through the rehearsal space and climbed the stairs to the dressing room, Sully’s opening remarks carried through the club.
“Well, how do you follow a performance like that? I feel like I should just jerk off and excuse myself…”