17 Cutter #3
He’s scanning the list and nodding. “Good, good, three repeats.” He looks up at me as though he’s hit rewind on what I just said.
“I’ve been helping Renee out in the theater and I swear I’m going to strangle her if I don’t die from exhaustion first.” His eyes widen, like he just realized what he said.
“Shit. If she drops dead, forget I said that.”
“Said what?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Cutter.” He starts to leave then turns back. “Tell the one with the ponytail Reggie is not a rock star who needs protection.”
So that’s where Blair gets off to. I’d be willing to bet he’s there more to watch the show than the DJ. Guess we’ll need to have a chat.
“Will do.”
I manage to focus long enough to get the club open and everyone assigned their nightly duties.
I give Blair the parking lots tonight to keep him away from the house floor, but that means those duties are left to me.
I put it off as long as I can, but eventually I find myself wandering into the packed house.
I know just by the choice of music who’s on stage. Aubie has a thing for using classic rock in his sets and tonight’s selection is an old Eric Burden tune I’ll never be able to listen to again without picturing the naked brat strutting his stuff.
He’s halfway through his routine when I slip into the back of the room. I try to keep my head down, to concentrate on doing my job. Making sure everything is running smoothly. That no one is breaking the ‘no recording’ rule. In other words, being a total professional.
And then my eyes wander up to the stage.
I swear he knows I’m here. How else would you explain his over-the-top antics?
I remember his words to me–“whenever I’m onstage, it’ll be your hands I imagine on my body”–as his hands wander over his bare body, caressing his tawny skin like a lover, and I find my own hands itching to join them. My dick swells uncomfortably.
His hips move in syncopation with the music. Daryl is right about one thing. He does have a presence. It’s impossible to look away when he’s on stage.
I feel it the minute he sees me. Our eyes lock and his lips curl up in that sly smirk that makes me see red. The prick.
His fingers close around his cock and he starts pumping it while grinding his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination. The crowd is loving it, many of them shouting words of encouragement as he does everything short of actually getting himself off.
I need to get out of here, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
I suck in a deep breath to clear my head. The room smells like sex.
My phone vibrates with a text. I glance down and see it’s Simpson. Something about a belligerent guest.
ME
Kind of in the middle of something. Can Javi handle it?
SIMPSON
Yeah, no problem.
I know I’m shirking my responsibilities, but I need to get this over with. I wait out the song and watch Aubie exit the stage, leaving a buzz of excitement. I wouldn’t want to be the guy who follows him.
Waiting long enough that I won’t run the risk of being alone with him naked, I skirt the stage and duck into the hallway leading to the dressing room.
I know fifteen minutes have passed when the next dancer moves past me on the way to the stage.
I nod to him and pretend I’m checking something on my phone. Any minute now.
I’ve got my stoic mask firmly in place, but inside I’m a mess. My heart is pounding, my throat dry, my palms sweating.
Just suck it up and get this over with.
When Aubie finally emerges, I clear my throat to get his attention. He turns slowly and faces me, his grey eyes openly fucking me from head to toe.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he purrs as he steps closer.
Now or never. Remember what Evie said; it’s just another experience.
“I’ve reconsidered your offer.”
His eyes register surprise. “I’m listening.”
“I, uh…” I blow out a sigh and gather my courage. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should, you know, do it.”
He quirks a brow. “Do what?”
Fucker. He’s going to make me say it. “You know. Do it.”
There’s that smirk again. Makes me want to smash his face. “Hmm. Big strong man like you and you can’t even say the word.”
“Fuck,” I growl. “Okay?” I glance around, hoping no one heard me, and lower my voice. “I think we should fuck and get it over with.”
Aubie palms his chest and flutters his eyes like he’s going to faint. “I feel so desired.”
“This isn’t a hook up, damn it. It’s just…” I sweep a hand back through my hair. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He thumbs his chin like he’s thinking about it and I want to choke him. “Okay,” he says finally. “My house. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“What?”
“You want to fuck, I have tomorrow afternoon free.” He leans closer. “Unless you want to do it right now. I know of a storage closet where we can–”
“No,” I snap. No more public hookups. “Tomorrow’s fine.” What the hell am I doing?
“Three o’clock.” He reaches out and trails a finger down my chest, stopping to pull at my waistband as his tongue flicks across his lips. “Don’t be late, lover. I’d hate to get all hot and bothered then have to wait with my cock hard and leaking.”
Thanks for that image, fucker.
When he turns, I watch him walk away. I don’t want to. I know he knows I’m looking because he puts an extra sway in his hips that absolutely does not tug at my cock.
Eyes on the prize. Tomorrow afternoon, then this will all be over.