4. Vee
Vee
Holy shit. Sebastian was fucking gorgeous. As much as I’d tried to follow Andrew’s instructions, every time I looked up, all I could see was Sebastian, and all thoughts except the desire to lick him all over fled my mind. Thank fuck he’d disappeared for a while and let me concentrate on what Andrew wanted me to do, but then he returned, and all that had happened while he was gone was given Andrew’s voice a breather so he could yell louder at me.
In truth, I wasn’t bothered by the yelling—my father was a world-champion yeller—but I needed the money that would come my way from both Illyria and Orsino’s club if I was to continue living in San Francisco, so distractions were dangerous. My instructions from Stormy were to figure out who Olivia had spying at the Grotto as well as let them know any issues I saw at Illyria. As I practiced the dance steps Andrew was calling out to me while I stood on the tiny raised platform, I couldn’t see any issues to report.
I’d only been there for a matter of hours, to be fair, and I wasn’t in a position to see everything nor talk to anyone who worked here, but from what I could see, Illyria was perfect. Especially when compared to the dingy space the Grotto inhabited. The dance floor was huge and ringed by a number of small cocktail tables and high tops. The bar where Sebastian worked looked like it held every kind of alcohol in existence, all displayed beautifully on glass shelves that reached to the ceiling. I’d be the first to admit, I didn’t know a lot about alcohol or bartending, but Sebastian seemed to know what he was doing. He talked easily with a couple of coworkers while doing his tasks with an easy grace that came from having full confidence in your abilities. And once again, I was lost in the sheer perfection of his body and the beauty of his smile when he laughed at something Maria said.
“No, no, no!” Andrew screamed at me again, and I realized I’d missed another instruction.
I murmured my apologies at the same time Andrew’s name rang through the club. Olivia had come down the stairs from her office. Illyria’s owner was stunning. I’d never encountered anyone like her before, especially not growing up in Idaho. I assumed she was trans, though I knew enough not to make assumptions or ask the question. Her gender was her business, not mine, but I’ll admit to being curious. Regardless, Olivia was stunning with flawless, rich olive skin, dark hair that she wore cropped on the sides, and an impious tilt to her chin. Her makeup was perfectly applied, though done with a deceptively light touch to highlight her cheekbones and dark eyes. She was tall—nearly as tall as me—but slim through the hips, and carried herself with an ease and elegance my mother would have called regal. Though she wore higher heels than I’d ever seen in my life, she walked without a wobble, her stride imperious as she crossed the room toward Andrew and me. I didn’t know much about fashion, but I could tell her clothing and jewelry were an extension of herself, and not just something she put on to avoid going naked for the day like the rest of us.
At the thought of Olivia naked, my cheeks heated, and I looked away as she stopped in front of me. The light touch of her fingers under my chin as she lifted and turned my head toward her made my skin tingle. I swallowed hard. “Like this,” she said. “Chin parallel to the ground, and lift your body from here.” She placed a hand on my abdomen. “It opens your shoulders like you’re presenting yourself to the crowd. Treat yourself like the gift that you are for them and they will fall in love with you.” Her voice was low in timber, but rich and almost melodic.
When I gained enough courage to look her in the eye, I was shocked by the amusement and kindness in them. Her glossed lips curled up at the corners, the barest hint of a smile playing on them. She was close enough to me, I smelled her perfume, an intoxicating mix that reminded me of my mother’s kitchen when she baked and my father when he sat on the porch smoking a pipe after a day’s work on our farm.
I did as she told me, tightened my abs, squared my shoulders, and raised my chin away from her confusing touch, and was rewarded with a full smile that brought a light to her eyes.
“There,” she said, then stepped away from me. “Andrew, perhaps you should let our new young man take a break. You’ve been at him for the past hour without giving him a chance to breathe. And I need to speak with you upstairs.”
Without waiting for an answer, Olivia turned on one of her impossibly thin heels and walked back toward the stairs. “Maria,” she called out without turning. “Show him the dressing room and let him practice what Andrew has been teaching him in the mirror. After you give him a chance to catch his breath and something to drink.”
I looked to Andew, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. “She’s the boss,” he said. “Take…I have no idea. Fifteen? If I’m not back by then, I’ll find you.” With a curt nod, Andrew stalked after Olivia and disappeared up the stairs.
“Come, young Vee, sit yourself down and introduce yourself,” the second bartender called out. Although I’d been introduced to everyone, I couldn’t remember their names for the life of me. My brain was full of Andrew’s instructions and spinning from the way the day had gone. Only this morning, I was wondering if I’d be able to make rent, but now I had two jobs and was trying hard to figure out how to be both a spy and a dancer.
I climbed down from the raised platform, suddenly aware of how tired my muscles were and that my clothes were damp with sweat. As secretly as I could, I took stock of my scent and decided I was not offensively odiferous—the pigs we kept at home smelled far worse—so I crossed to the bar and sat on the barstool next to Maria. I handed the bartender my empty water bottle, and he gave me a fresh one from the cooler behind the bar. I took it gratefully and finished it in two swallows.
It was only after I’d put the empty bottle on the bar that I realized Sebastian was staring at me, and felt color rise to my cheeks once again.
“How old are you, Vee?” Maria asked, a calculating look in her eyes.
“Twenty-one,” I answered. “I know I don’t look it, but I am.” Stormy’s instructions echoed in my head as I realized this was my first opportunity to talk to some of Illyria’s employees and sound them out about Orsino’s club. The thought of trying to do so without arousing suspicion, made my palms sweat. I had never been good at lying or any kind of deception. It was one of the reasons why I’d come out to my family. I couldn’t keep something like my orientation hidden from them, and my older brothers had been teasing me about my lack of girlfriends for years, hinting that they knew something was different about me, and making it clear how they felt about it.
“How long have you worked at Illyria?” I asked.
“Since Antonio opened it,” Maria responded. “Tobes as well. We’re both old pros around here.”
“Speak for yourself,” Toby responded as he continued to cut lemons into wedges. “I’m more of a con than a pro.”
Maria made to swat his arm, but he laughed and dodged away from her, playfully threatening her with the paring knife.
“Put that away,” Maria said. “I’ve taken on bigger pricks than that and lived to tell the tale.” She glanced at me, and I knew she saw the color rising in my cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart, you will be a lamb amongst the lions if you blush like that over the word ‘prick.’”
“Leave him alone, Maria.”
I’d been so focused on the verbal banter between Toby and Maria that I hadn’t noticed Sebastian joining us. I swallowed hard as I stared into his gorgeous eyes. They were hazel, with flecks of green and gold and a bit of copper, and when he looked at me, I felt it throughout my body. My dick twitched, and I thanked God I wasn’t wearing the tight gold shorts Andrew had informed me was my “uniform” when I danced. All the same, Maria nudged me with her shoulder and gave me an amused smirk when I looked her way.
“Ready to get the grand tour of the dressing room?” she asked.
Reluctantly, I slid off the stool and followed her down a hallway that ended in a door with a digital lock. “Andrew tell you what the passcode is?” she asked.
He had, but I couldn’t remember it at the moment while my thoughts were still swirling around Sebastian. I shook my head. “I forgot it.”
I was rewarded with another smirk.
“It’s real difficult. Nine-eight-seven-six. Mal thinks he’s so clever for choosing the last four digits rather than the first.” She rolled her eyes. “Not the brightest tool in the box, our Mal.” She pressed the numbers and led me into the dressing room, which was really more of a closet. Two mirrors lined one wall each with a makeup table in front of it. The other wall was lined with clothes racks on which hung a few costumes.
“Most of us take our shit home with us,” Maria said. “It’s easier that way, especially for the go-go boys.” She gestured to the tables. “And except for oiling up before going out on the floor, there isn’t really a lot you need to do unless you want to put on eyeliner and gloss those pretty lips.
In all truth, I hadn’t thought about wearing makeup at all. “Do I need to do that?” I asked.
Maria shrugged. “Depends on the look you’re going for and the persona you want to use.” She stepped back as much as the tiny space allowed and scanned me head to toe. “For you. Uh-huh. You’ve got that all-American boy-next-door thing going for you. You’re a pretty thing, but I’d suggest playing that ruggedness up. Some of the boys shave everything, but I suggest you go the other way. A bit of stubble and some chest hair if you’ve got it.” She smirked at me again. “I can help you there if you don’t.” She turned to the costumes. “Andrew putting you in those booty shorts he loves so much?”
“Yeah.” My cheeks heated.
Pursing her lips, Maria sorted through the rack and pulled out a pair of cutoff blue jeans, the kind I wore all summer long when I didn’t have to be working. These were a damn sight smaller than any I’d have dared wear out in public if I didn’t want my ass kicked from Twin Falls to the Nevada border, but the sight of them made me a lot happier than the gold thong Andrew had tossed my way.
“You got any boots to go with these?” Maria asked, and I nodded.
“They’re kind of worn, though,” I said. “And probably still have some cow shit on them.”
“Cow shit washes off,” she said as she handed the shorts over. “We don’t do a lot of two-stepping in this club, but the guys who come here will love you in this. If you’ve got a hat to go with it, that would be great.”
“I did,” I said, “but it got stolen at the first place I stayed.”
Maria chuckled. “That’s too bad, I might have one at home that you can use.” She handed me the shorts.
As much as I would have preferred the shorts to the thong, I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Andrew. “Is it okay for me to switch costumes?” I asked.
“Honey, trust me. The only thing that really matters is if the guys coming in to see you keep ordering drinks. We got go-go boys in thongs coming out the ass, but a real cowboy? That’s something new. You’ll stand out, and that’s the thing that’ll have them shoving dollar bills in your pockets and…other places.”
I looked around the tiny space. “There’s not much room to rehearse.”
Maria shrugged. “Won’t matter. The only time you need to know all that stuff Andrew’s trying to cram into your head is when we do a show, and even then it’s mostly me and the girls doing the dancing. You boys just stand around looking fabulous and give us something to play with.”
“Then why’s he making me learn it?” I tried not to let my voice sound so plaintive, but really, the dance stuff was kind of beyond me, and I was getting a bit fed up with Andrew yelling when I tripped over my own feet.
With a roll of her eyes, Maria said, “It’s his little fiefdom.” She leaned in so she could whisper. “Andrew’s getting a bit long in the tooth for dancing, but he’s been here longer than any of the other boys so Olivia bumped him up to lead dancer and made him responsible for all of you.” Stepping back, she tapped her chest. “I still outrank him because I’m in charge of all the dancers, drag queens as well as go-go boys, but Andrew thinks it makes him something special, so I just let him strut about pretending he does more than me.”
“So, Olivia’s a good boss?” I asked, proud of myself for having an opportunity to ask something that might get me the information Orsino wanted.
“She’s the best.” Maria eyed me again, this time as if she was assessing me. “Girl’s had a rough time the past couple of years, but she’s making it work. The one thing I won’t tolerate is anyone doing anything that would make her life harder. If I catch you stirring up trouble or spreading gossip, you are going to be out on your ear. Do you hear me?”
I nodded and chose not to ask her any questions about the Grotto. It wasn’t the time.
From the club, I heard Andrew bellow my name.
“Looks like your break time’s over,” Maria said, and then chucked me under the chin. “Stop worrying so much. Olivia likes you. As long as you don’t do anything to fuck her over, you got both of us rooting for you.”
Feeling slightly better, I followed Maria back to the dance floor and tried my best to ignore Sebastian while following Andrew’s instructions.
A few weeks later, I felt secure enough in my place at Illyria to quit my bussing job. Maria’s prediction that the patrons would love my cowboy persona had proved true. At her suggestion, I’d tucked a dark blue bandana into my right rear pocket. I had no idea why it seemed to up my tips, but it sure helped. Adding what I made at Illyria to Stormy’s payment for what little info I’d been able to give her , I was doing okay and no longer worried I’d have to leave San Francisco.
Though I wasn’t sure I was learning anything useful, Stormy seemed to be happy with what I told her, so I figured I was doing something right. I still had misgivings about what I was doing. Everyone at Illyria was really nice, and no one had a bad word to say about Olivia. Some of the guys who had worked other clubs said Illyria was the best in the city, and I’d been lucky to get picked up without any experience.
Best of all, Sebastian had become my de facto guardian at the club acting as a buffer between me and patrons who sometimes got a bit more friendly than I liked. Illyria didn’t have a back room like some clubs did, though relationships between the dancers and customers wasn’t forbidden. Some of the boys had sugar daddies who’d started out being generous tippers who asked for a more personal arrangement. It was a fine line between flirting enough to get the best tips and not pissing someone off when you told them you weren’t available for private dances or parties, and it had taken me some time to figure out where that line was. Thank God for Sebastian and Festus.
Illyria’s bouncer especially seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when one of us had gotten in over our heads and had saved me from an over-interested customer who’d waited until two thirty in the morning for me to leave and followed me to the Muni. Festus had been passing by on his way home, saw me trying to get away from the guy, and offered me a ride back to my place, which I’d gratefully taken. He’d also informed the guy that he was no longer welcome at Illyria and said that he never forgot a face.
All in all, things were going well, and I was starting to feel settled. I had a more or less steady income, was starting to make friends, and actually enjoyed what I was doing. While I still wasn’t happy with the spying, I could admit to myself that the attention I was getting boosted my self-confidence by leaps and bounds. I’d never been around so many gay men before, and it was heady to know they found me attractive.
If I hadn’t been so hung up on Sebastian, I could have hooked up any night I worked at Illyria, but Sebastian still had a firm grip on my attention. Sometimes, I caught him looking at me while I danced, and I always smiled and added an extra shake of my hips along with a flirty wink. When I took a break, he always had a bottle of water waiting for me, the top already opened, something I hoped he did just for me.
Of course, though, just when I thought all was well, things fell apart. I got home from work one night after I’d been at Illyria for about a month and found that all my roommates had skipped out just before our next month’s rent was due. Not only that, they’d ransacked my stuff and left me with a pair of jeans and some ratty T-shirts. Thankfully, they didn’t get my phone because I always had it with me, but they did find the cash I’d saved up from my tips and Stormy’s payments.
That money had been meant to pay my share of the rent, and as I sat on the ruins of my mattress, I realized I was probably on the hook for the rest of it as well if I wanted to continue to stay in the same place. I didn’t have time to find three other guys to live with me, and I didn’t know anyone at Illyria well enough to ask if I could crash at their place. Besides which, most of the other dancers lived in similar situations as me and didn’t have the space to offer.
I didn’t sleep well that night at all. Too worried about where I was going to live, and too aware of all the sounds from the neighborhood with only me in the apartment, I couldn’t relax enough to fall into a deep sleep. When my alarm went off, I lay in bed and tried to figure out some kind of plan.
Things weren’t any clearer than they were the night before, but an idea came to me as I brushed my teeth. I already thought of Illyria as a kind of home. The people who worked there had accepted me in a way even my own family hadn’t. If I could find a space where no one would notice me, I could live there for a bit. It wouldn’t be permanent, just long enough to build up my cash again and ask if anyone knew of a place I could afford.
That afternoon, when it was time to head to the club, I packed up what little I had left and headed to Illyria with the intention of finding someplace I could hide after closing.