CHAPTER 12 #2
Cole leaned forward, nervously rubbing his hands together. “I do really like it here…” he stared at the floor, his words stalling.
“But?” Max asked. “If you have any concerns, I’d be glad to address them.”
Cole looked up. “I’ve never done anything like this before.
I mean, yesterday was my first time in a strip club.
” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
“I think… I think I would be okay performing with the other dancers. I might be nervous going on stage for the first time, but I believe I could get past that. It’s just…
” he chewed his lower lip. “I’m not sure if I’d do as well with the customers.
Up close, I mean. I don’t know how good I would be at… seducing and flirting.”
Max smiled. “I have a feeling you’d be great at it once you get the hang of it.
But I understand your doubts.” He sighed.
“If you want to give it a try here at the club, I could hire you on a trial basis. Say, work for a week, and if at the end of the week, you feel it’s not for you…
” Max nodded. “… you can go on your way, no hard feelings.”
A trial period? Cole felt kinda relieved about the offer. He’d worried about starting the job only to have to quit soon after because he couldn’t handle it. That would make him feel like shit. But a trial run…
“I’m sure Dane and Gabe would be happy to show you the ropes," he said with a knowing smile. “Teach you how to handle the customers.” He chuckled. “Just an expression. You won’t actually be handling them. My boys are dancers, not prostitutes. Sometimes the customers need to be reminded of that.”
Cole nodded.
“So, what do you think?” Max asked in an almost hopeful tone. “You want to give it a try? I have a sense about people, and I think you will fit right in. In fact, I have a feeling you will be a great asset to the Phoenix.”
Cole had his doubts, but Max appeared genuine and not just trying to bullshit him into taking the job. Maxwell Raines didn’t seem like a “bullshitter.” Cole liked the man—had liked him the moment he met him earlier at the bar.
Rising from the sofa, Cole flexed his hands. “I think I might be okay with a trial basis,” he said, his lingering nervousness audible in his voice.
“Great!” Max grinned and stepped forward, giving Cole’s shoulder a squeeze with the same warm affection as before. “You’ve already got the look.” He pointed to the T-shirt. “Looks great on you.” He chuckled.
Cole laughed nervously. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow night?” Max suggested.
“Okay.” Cole exhaled nervously. “I'll... do my best.”
Max slid his arm around Cole’s shoulder and walked him to the door. “After seeing you on the dance floor,” Max grinned, “I’m betting your best is fabulous.”
When Cole left the office, he paused outside the door, his full attention abruptly pulled across the club to where Gabe and Dane commanded the stage.
Under pulsing crimson lights, their oil-slicked bodies caught every flash and gleam, muscles tensing and releasing with each calculated movement.
Gabe’s G-string—barely containing what Cole had just held in the shower—gleamed silver against his tanned flesh, while Dane’s fiery red shorts rode so low on his hips that the deep V-cut of his abdomen formed an arrow pointing to paradise.
Cole couldn’t look away as his heart suddenly hammered against his chest wall, and he stood transfixed, throat working, as their bodies made promises that his own body ached to answer.
He watched Dane move up behind Gabe, hips rolling against the perfect curve of that ass, their bodies glistening under the lights. Every flex of Dane’s sculpted thighs, every ripple across Gabe’s abs as he arched backward—their movements flowed together with a grace that made Cole’s mouth go dry.
His own body responded without permission, blood rushing south so fast he felt lightheaded, a molten heat spreading from his groin down through his thighs until his jeans felt two sizes too small.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be on that stage with them, crushed between their slick, hot skin, feeling Gabe’s chest against his and Dane’s breath on his neck just like on the dance floor—only this time with nothing between them but skin and sweat.
Cole swallowed hard, his throat bone dry, when Gabe caught his eye from across the room.
The dancer’s pupils dilated visibly even from a distance, turning his baby blues nearly indigo.
Without breaking their connection, Gabe pressed his sweat-slicked back against the chrome pole, reached up to grip it with both hands until his biceps bulged, and lifted his body with gymnast-like control until he could wrap his powerful thighs around Dane’s narrow waist. The silver fabric of his G-string stretched dangerously thin as he pulled Dane against him, the outline of his hard cock so defined Cole could trace every vein and ridge with his eyes.
Tension seized every muscle in Cole’s body, from his jaw to his calves, and his cock began to throb painfully as the two strippers ground against each other in perfect rhythm with the pounding bass.
Their bodies moved like liquid mercury under the lights as dollar bills rained down around them, hips rolling and abs flexing as they dry-fucked each other seemingly for the raucous crowd's viewing pleasure.
But Cole knew, from the way Gabe’s eyes never left his, that this performance wasn’t meant for them.