Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Konnor
“Can you do me a favor?” Brett asks.
I nod, only half listening to what he’s saying. His thumb strokes the top of my hand. It creates a ridiculous wave of arousal that sweeps through me so fast I sway from the force. I want to climb this man right here, right now.
But I can’t.
I’m at work. We’re at work. We’re coworkers.
Shaking the thought away, I tune back in to the conversation. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
Brett smiles, completely unbothered at my flustered state. “I was asking if you wouldn’t mind sticking around after the show for a little bit. I wanted to talk to you some more, but we don’t have a lot of time left.”
As if his words signal the others, people begin moving at a more hurried pace. I take a second to think over his request before slowly nodding.
“I can do that. Is there anything I should know specifically? This isn’t a hazing thing, right?”
He frowns. “No, it’s not. Has someone done something to you?”
The menace in his voice tells me he’d try to take care of whoever he thought to have done me wrong. Since I think we’d likely both end up fired, I do the only thing I can to gain his full focus again.
Lacing our fingers together, I step closer to him and put my hand on his chest. He immediately snaps his gaze to mine.
“Konnor,” he says, voice all low and gruff.
“Brett.”
His free hand comes up to keep mine in place. The pose is insanely intimate, though I barely know the guy. I feel all kinds of off-balance when he’s around. I need to get control of myself, but I really, really don’t want to.
I would rather be wrapped up in him. Would rather be anywhere else so this tension could actually lead to something more.
“You’re testing my patience, little bunny.”
“Little bunny?” I question.
He nods toward the top of my head. “Your bun is cute. Plus you give me a vibe. We can workshop it more later. You know, when you meet up with me. Because you plan to, right?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you. Where should I go?”
Brett grins, then spins me around to face the stairs near the stage. His hands land on my hips as he presses his body into mine. I almost miss his words for how aroused I suddenly get.
“You’re going to head up those stairs after all the guests clear out. There’s a room marked “Extras” with silver bubble letters. Go in there and wait for me. I’ll shower so I’m not disgusting, then I’ll come see you.”
I nod as I fight the urge to lean into him. Clearly I’m not the only one resisting the pull because his fingers tighten a second before I feel him step back.
“See you soon. Watch me tonight. I’ll be dancing for you.”
With that, he rushes past me toward the guy he was with earlier, Angelo. The two of them do a handshake move, then take off for the exact stairs he’d pointed out before.
“I’m in big trouble with that one,” I mutter to myself.
Time to get into position. My job tonight is to help keep the floor clean when the guests and dancers throw their fake bills around. The paper creates a slippery sensation on the floor. If anything is left behind between songs, someone could get hurt.
Knowing this possibility exists makes me nervous. It also makes me want to do the best damn job possible.
I take my post right before I hear the bell to let us know we should be in place. The broom I’ll use is tucked into a thin alcove beside me to keep it out of the way while guests get seated.
For the next fifteen minutes, I smile and greet people with head nods and waves.
There’s an energy in room that reminds me of when I arrived last night.
This position sort of fell in my lap late one night a few weeks back while searching for a new job.
I had no clue what I’d been applying for until I saw the show for myself.
I’m actually kind of glad I didn’t know. There’s a high chance I would have been too intimidated to actually apply.
But I did. And now I’m here to make sure I do my part to give others a good night.
Once the lights go down and the spotlight beams bright on the center stage, I grab what I need and move to the edge of the seating area. I have a designated area to keep clean, which means my focus is only on this eight-by-eight space, and only between songs.
This gives me plenty of time to focus on what’s going on with everyone else. Just like the night before, the emcee comes onto the stage to introduce themselves.
“My name is Roscoe, and I’m here to make sure you have a good fucking time. Yeah!?”
The crowd screams. A few shrill whistles blend with the sound, which makes me laugh at their enthusiasm.
“Let’s get started then. I’m going to grab one lucky person from the audience tonight. Who will it be? Boys, entertain the people while I search.”
A few of the dancers jump onto the stage in various costumes. They do some type of line dance while Roscoe makes his way through the crowd.
What most of these women trying to get his attention don’t realize is that he’s not going to pick them. He’s already chosen his target.
Because it’s someone who works here.
Part of the bit is that they’re in on everything. You can’t let them know that from the jump though. Everyone wouldn’t be as into it.
I zone out a bit as he goes through the selection process and the quick reveal of how the person chosen is actually going to run the show. With the chance of being the narrator, the vibes in the room shift.
Or maybe it’s because several very hot, very oiled-up men start popping around the theater. Angelo appears beside me as I’m watching it happen, nearly startling a squeak out of me.
“You have no idea how much he begged me to take my spot. He’s beside himself that he doesn’t get to come flirt with you.”
My eyes go wide at his words. “He wanted to flirt with me?”
Angelo tilts his head. “You hadn’t picked up on that?”
Before he can answer, the music changes. He throws me a wink, then rushes through the crowd.
I watch as the group of men move into formation. Their bodies are in sync to the point I don’t know where to look. It’s like they’re one big moving piece of art.
But then I see him.
Brett.
He’s on the end closest to me. His eyes are already on me as I find him. The wink he gives me has a very different effect than the one Angelo gave. This one has heat moving down my spine, and a familiar ache building in my cock.
I want him.
And if Angelo is right about him flirting, then maybe he wants me too. Is that why he asked me to come see him after the show?
It’s always a possibility. A small one, but enough that I’m not going to ignore him.
I spend the show split between two jobs—sweeping the floor, which I’m being paid to do, and watching every move Brett makes. Every body roll and hip thrust only heightens how sexy he is.
When he takes his shirt off, I nearly melt. Then we get to the part where several of them take off their pants too. Their tiny boxer-briefs hide absolutely nothing. His cock is basically on display.
I stare without restraint. How can I not? He’s perfect.
By the time the final song plays, and they come out to do the send-offs, I’m more nervous than I was at the start of the show. It’s time for me to face the music. Either Brett is really just wanting to properly apologize for before and to become friends, or he’s actually interested in me.
“Good work tonight, Konnor. You’re going to do great. Feel free to stick around for a bit to cool off. It helps with the parking situation too. It’s a madhouse out there,” my manager Fox says when he passes me in the hall.
“Thanks,” I reply. I’m not sure what else I could possibly say to him. Instead, I give a weak wave and take off for the stairs.
Not a single person stops me or tells me I shouldn’t. If anything, they’re all in their own worlds too. I’m free to go as I please without judgment.
It’s easy enough to find the room Brett told me to wait for him in. The space isn’t that big, though there’s enough room for a couch, a couple of folding chairs, and some racks packed with what looks like props from previous shows.
I drop down onto the couch. My head falls against the back as I rub my hands down my thighs.
Patience.
I need some patience.
Because no matter what happens next, I still need this job. I won’t let my mixed-up feelings deter me from sticking around even if this conversation turns awkward.