Chapter Text
It was all Fabian’s fault, because of him James found himself in this situation. It was easier to blame the red-haired man than to admit his own desires and their consequences.
When his friend and colleague suggested visiting the new but already notorious elite strip club over the weekend, James didn't agree right away. He had already established a routine for his leisure time. A morning workout at the gym, breakfast with Remus at a small French café fifteen minutes from his house, then some work tasks (yes, he knew that weekends were for resting, not working, but business is business), lunch if he was lucky, some free time he usually wasted on trivial things, then ordering dinner delivery, another gym session, and a good night's sleep. On Sundays, he often visited his parents out of town and spent the whole day there, while a cleaning service took care of the mess he had made during the week. So James wasn't planning to disrupt this well-established order of things. Honestly, he wasn’t planning to. He was forced to.
But Fabian’s offhand remark that he didn’t know how to have fun and relax, and James was too naive, foolishly clinging to words and wanting to prove the opposite, got to him. The red-haired guy’s reaction was just a knowing smirk. Bastard.
There were supposed to be four of them. Two of his colleagues, Frank and Kingsley, hadn’t shown up yet, probably running late. So James and the instigator of this rendezvous followed to the club, where a reserved table was already waiting for them. The hostess who greeted them and was now politely leading them to their place for the evening was a very beautiful young woman, James couldn’t help but notice that. Long red hair, bright green eyes, and those hips in a tight pencil skirt… damn. Maybe later he’d try his luck and ask for her number, or better yet, invite her to dinner. These thoughts made him smile slightly.
When they approached the table, separated by a small screen, she gave them a sweet smile and asked, "Is this your first time with us?"
Fabian nodded energetically, also keeping his gaze on the girl. Well, that wasn't surprising.
"Great. Before you settle in and start enjoying your evening, let me remind you of a few rules that help us maintain a high level of comfort and safety for all our guests," the red-haired girl—James noticed her name was "Lily" from the small badge on her chest—handed them two cards as they sat down at their table.
While his eyes began to scan the information on the card, the girl quickly summarised it aloud, "Please avoid physical contact with the dancers. Respect those around you and refrain from taking photos or videos. No exchange of personal information. All transactions must go through the club."
Ah, what a bummer. James sighed bitterly; he could forget about dinner with this red-haired beauty.
"We have two more friends joining us," Fabian added after a few seconds of silence, to which the girl smiled pleasantly.
"Of course, I’ll bring them right to your table."
"Thank you," James gave her his most charming smile, hoping to catch her attention, but received only a mechanically polite expression in return.
"If you have any special requests regarding the menu or any other needs, please don't hesitate to inform our staff. We are always happy to assist and make your stay as comfortable as possible," the girl chirped sweetly, and James desperately tried to catch her eye, but she either deliberately ignored him or simply maintained her professionalism. "Have a pleasant evening, and if you need anything else, please let me know."
One last broad smile and a final flick of fiery hair. James barely had time to blink, and she had already vanished. He tried not to be too disappointed by this.
"Oh, she’s hot," Fabian whistled as soon as the girl was completely out of sight.
James smirked bitterly, tapping his finger on the printed letters on the rule card. "Forget it, you don’t stand a chance."
Neither did he.
"Whatever," his friend shrugged indifferently. "I actually prefer brunettes." He reached out and pressed the button to call the waiter, and while they both waited for the staff member to take their order, James asked,
"How did you find out about this place?"
Fabian leaned closer across the table, placing his hands on the wooden surface. "My brother, Gideon, remember him?"
Pfft, of course, he remembered. The guys were twins—hard to forget.
"Of course," James nodded in agreement.
"He designed this interior," the man with the freckled face gestured around the space with a swirling motion of his finger and grinned widely. "So thanks to that, I managed to snag us a table without waiting in line, which usually takes a few months."
Phew, a few months? Well, it seemed the club was indeed in high demand and popular.
James took another look around the surroundings, once again assessing the design that whispered of quiet luxury. The subdued warm light from golden lamps and chandeliers, dark wood furnishings, black marble, chairs that were more like beds in their comfort. Each table was separated by small screens, creating an atmosphere of privacy while still allowing guests to enjoy the overall dynamics of the club. His gaze caught on the steel poles and high platforms positioned at several points around the establishment. There, dancers twisted in enticing movements, mesmerising everyone present with their bodies and the outfits they wore. His eyes slid over each of the girls, but he didn’t linger on any of them. Even though he hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time, and it had been about a month since his last one-night stand, he wasn’t eager to dive into indulgences. Striptease and erotic dances had never been something that clouded his mind and drove him wild.
While he was contemplating this, a tall, blond guy approached their table, ready to take their order. "Good evening, my name is Evan, and I’ll be serving your table tonight. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"
During the time he spent lost in thought, James hadn’t even noticed the drink menus on the table or considered his order, but Fabian quickly took charge and asked for two whiskeys while they waited for their friends. The man said that the real drinking fun would begin after their arrival. James shrugged, not too opposed to the idea. Though he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, as he was used to spending his Saturday evenings watching a movie and eating Thai food.
At 27 years old, James Potter was thriving in the world of investments and private equity. As the principal shareholder and managing partner of a major investment holding company, there was little room in his world for the regular amusem*nts that had filled his life during his university years. He had spent five years in continuous development and climbing the career ladder, which had led him to where he was now. During this time, he had learned how to spend hours on strategic planning and evaluating investment opportunities, rather than on meaningless parties and gatherings. At some point, this had become his way of life. Some might say he had missed out on his youth.
All of his romantic relationships either lasted one night or a few months, ending precisely when his partners realised that "Sorry, I’m busy with work tonight" was not an exception but the rule. His colleagues constantly nagged him, trying to drag him out to the bar every Friday. And his response was usually more "No" than "Yes."
So when Fabian used manipulation (which James only realised after he had already fallen for it) to convince him to join them at this new high-end adult club, James had no choice but to keep his word and relax a bit, breaking from his usual routine.
"Well, look who’s here," a low, velvety voice rang out, and both guys at the table turned their heads to meet the grinning faces of their friends. Kingsley and Frank leisurely approached their table, exchanging handshakes, and James just caught a glimpse of the long red hair disappearing into the distance. Blimey, she was quick. He hoped to see her again.
"I can’t believe you actually came," the dark-skinned man in a blue shirt with casually undone buttons grinned at him. It wasn’t an unusual sight; Kingsley always liked to be a bit rebellious, looking just as dishevelled during working hours.
"Hey, you’re the ones who are late, so we should be the ones surprised," James protested, trying to turn the situation around.
"Whatever you say, Mr. ‘Sorry, but no, I’m busy,’ " Kingsley mimicked his tone, and the other two guys at the table burst into loud laughter. James just rolled his eyes at the teasing.
"Oi, I hate to ruin everything, but I’ll have to leave early tonight. Alice and I are leaving early tomorrow morning for a few days of vacation, and if I show up in the morning staggering and reeking of alcohol, I’m afraid I’ll be spending those few days alone at home in sad solitude," Frank scratched the back of his head, adding a light chuckle to his last words.
Fabian and Kingsley grumbled disapprovingly, complaining that he was ruining all the fun and that it wouldn’t be the same without him, but James simply observed the scene in silence, realising that spending days alone at home in sad solitude was his usual routine. Well, maybe if he were in a long-term relationship like Frank, things would be different. However… it is what it is.
Their waiter, Evan, approached the table again, this time with two glasses of whiskey, and the other members of the group started placing their orders as well. Fabian got carried away and began ordering almost the entire drink menu, randomly pointing at items with his eyes closed. In the end, James was sure there wouldn’t be enough space on their table for all the drinks, and he wasn’t sure if the waiter remembered all their requests, but Evan just nodded thoughtfully before heading back to the bar. Poor lad.
As they waited for their drinks, Fabian started talking about the club again, recounting the same story about his brother that he had told James earlier. He also handed the guys the rule cards, causing Kingsley to shrug and Frank to say, "I’m here for the alcohol and good company." Well, it seemed they had all gathered here to unwind and have a good time.
"Has anyone heard about the merger between NovaTech and Aurora Holdings? I bet it’s going to lead to serious problems with integrating their systems and cultures," Frank brought up one of the latest office topics, drawing the entire group, including James, into the conversation. Eyebrows raised mockingly; everyone was aware of the less-than-stellar reputation of the two companies.
"I’d be more worried about how these guys are going to handle the new competition," James remarked, sipping his whiskey slowly and letting his gaze wander over the dim, shadowy corners of the club.
"Oh, who cares? They know what they’re getting into," Kingsley grinned, as always seeing everything through a lens of indifference. James genuinely envied this approach to life. If only he could be like that.
Fabian launched into the details of the gossip, talking about the current owner of NovaTech’s troubles, and after a few minutes, James caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a large tray filled with the drinks they had ordered. That was fast. He noted the equally surprised expressions on his friends’ faces. The service was indeed top-notch. Or maybe the waiter was hoping for a very good tip. Well, if the service continued like this all evening, he would certainly get it.
The wooden surface of the table began to fill with glasses of various shapes, from shots to co*cktails. The group eagerly grabbed their desired drinks, but James didn’t rush to join them and continued to sip his whiskey. He wasn’t planning to stay sober tonight, but he also didn’t intend to get drunk when the evening had just begun.
The waiter disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the men to continue their lively conversation and enjoy the drinks they had ordered. Loud laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the mood lifted with every passing minute. The more and faster the glasses emptied, the more animated the conversation became, gradually shifting from work-related topics to more personal ones. James was having a good time; he could say that with confidence. Maybe he really should get out with his colleagues more often and expand his usual social circle, which was typically limited to Remus and Peter.
After three glasses of whiskey, James felt his body completely relax, letting go of all tension and succumbing to the laid-back atmosphere of the club. What had seemed like loud music earlier now resonated pleasantly in his ears, and the dim lighting created a trance-like state, immersing him in a whirlpool of ease and carefreeness. While Fabian was recounting yet another story about how he and his brother ended up in a foreign country, drunk, without money or a phone after a friend's bachelor party, James allowed his eyes to explore the surroundings in more detail. All the tables were filled, and even more dancers had appeared in the room, their unusual, glittering outfits standing out against the dark interior. His eyes automatically began to search for the hostess girl, hoping to admire her cute face once again and perhaps try his luck by inviting her somewhere, even if it was against the rules.
After a few minutes of scanning the room, James had almost given up hope that she was still there, but in the last moment, he caught a glimpse of those long, fiery locks and that attractive figure. The girl was standing with her back to him (which was quite a sight in itself) and talking to some guy. Since their table was at the far end of the room, James couldn't clearly make out his face, but he recognized the same style of outfit that all the dancers were wearing. A high-necked top with open arms made of shimmering silver fabric that, under the dim lighting of the club, resembles more of a moonlit glow. Tiny white shorts that revealed long, slender legs. Damn, he probably had never seen such beautiful legs in his life. Thin wrists adorned with numerous metal bracelets and layers of silver chains around the neck. This outfit was different from all the others worn by the female dancers, and not because it was a boy or because there was less clothing on him—quite the opposite, he was dressed far more modestly than all the girls in the room. His entire appearance seemed much more expensive, alluring, and attractive. James couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
As if sensing his curious gaze and the desire to take a closer look at the boy, the pair slowly moved towards the centre of the room, drawing closer and allowing him to fully take in their appearance. The first thing that caught his eye was the boy's shiny black curls. Were those sparkles? Why did they shimmer so much? The hair framed his face beautifully, and the club's shimmering light made his whole appearance glow. James thought he could see a radiance emanating even from his pale skin, as if this was a mythical creature descending into the world of mere mortals. The sight was so captivating that even when they were close enough for him to clearly see the girl he initially wanted to admire, his gaze remained fixed on the boy.
Bloody hell.
In the dim light, the first thing he noticed about the boy’s face was his plump lips, which he was constantly biting. The action was accompanied by a smile, apparently due to his conversation with the girl. She was probably smiling too, but James wasn't sure; he continued to watch the boy. His eyes travelled like a wanderer studying a hidden path on a map: from the pinky lips to the small, neat nose, then to the long, dark eyelashes that he could make out even from his spot. He wondered if they were mascara-coated. He could see traces of black eyeliner around the boy's round, light-coloured eyes. Suddenly, one of the curly locks fell onto his face, and he quickly tucked it behind his ear. James wished the boy would repeat that motion over and over—it was done so gracefully. His face was now fully revealed, and James' gaze slid over the sharpness of his jawline and cheekbones. Repeat. His gaze was once again drawn to the lips, the curve of the nose, the eyelashes, the eyes, the curls, the jaw. Beautiful. He was beautiful. Breathtaking.
James swallowed, slightly regaining his senses when he noticed the girl whisper something in the boy’s ear, and after a short nod, he turned and headed left, disappearing behind heavy black curtains. What was that? A staff room? James could see a security guard standing by the entrance. Now that the boy had completely disappeared from view, all James could do was wonder when he would reappear in the room.
Caught up in his observations and thoughts, he realised that he had missed almost the entire conversation and now couldn’t grasp what it was about. No one asked him or pulled him into the discussion, so you could say he got lucky. When his hand reached for the shot of tequila, wanting to wash away the dryness in his throat caused by the sight of the boy, a figure appeared near their table. It wasn’t the figure of a waiter or a hostess, but a body clad in the familiar shiny silver fabric of a costume. One of the dancers, whom James thought he had seen at the other end of the hall, approached their table, slowly swaying her hips and interrupting the conversation with her dance. The men at the table immediately perked up, instantly forgetting all matters and shifting all their attention to the girl. Her appearance was met with approving whistles; well, the alcohol was clearly kicking in.
There was enough space around the table for her to move around them all and give each of them attention, showcasing all her dancing skills, which is exactly what she did. The girl seductively ran her hands through her blonde hair and slided them lower and lower, caressing the exposed parts of her body. With each movement, she caused more and more money to appear, which now filled the table between the empty glasses. Kingsley and Fabian shamelessly ogled the girl, generously rewarding each enticing spin near their bodies, while Frank, though trying not to pay too much attention, couldn’t help but steal glances at the dancer’s revealing outfit. James could see his blush even in the dim lighting.
As for him, he couldn’t deny the girl's attractiveness either. She was undeniably beautiful, and the alcohol made that fact even more evident. He would have followed his friends' example, emptying his wallet, giving away his last bills, and enjoying the show that was put on especially for them if not for… If not for the fact that he had noticed him moments earlier.
No matter how much James tried to focus on the insanely revealing and beautiful outfit of the girl, her luxurious light hair, and her tantalising, flexible body, all his thoughts kept drifting back to the black curls and the plump, bitten lips. The image was firmly etched in his mind; he wanted to see it again. His eyes once again began scanning the room, this time trying to find not the red-haired hostess but the young man. Perhaps he wasn’t a dancer? Only women danced in the room, and besides, the boy was too beautiful for such a job. If James had met him on the street, he would have thought he worked as a high-fashion model.
When he completed his third careful sweep of the room, his view was blocked by the exposed stomach and thighs of the dancer, who now overshadowed any chance to observe the people in the club. The dancer, unaware of his unfocused attention, continued to twist and seemed to pay even more attention to him than to the other men at the table. But it was… wrong. Everything was wrong.
Acting purely on impulse without self-awareness of his actions, he abruptly stood up, almost knocking the girl off her feet. She gasped and was possibly about to say something, but James cut off any chance of that by quickly saying, “Sorry, I-I’ll be right back.”
Before he could hear his colleagues calling out to him, his legs carried him toward the exit. He passed through two narrow corridors, encountering a few more dancers who apparently felt it was their duty to attract his attention and entice him into a dance. It was pointless. When he reached his intended destination, he saw a girl writing something on a piece of paper. James awkwardly cleared his throat, and she looked up at him with her bright green eyes, showing a hint of surprise.
"Can I help you with something?" The polite smile made James falter, unsure of what he was about to do or ask.
"Um…" Thoughts and intentions seemed to dissolve into the same haze of the room, vanishing as he got closer to the exit. Get a grip, James. If at the beginning of the evening he had planned his actions, rehearsing in his mind how he would ask the girl for her phone number, invite her to dinner, and compliment her on her beauty, now his mind was filled with just one image and a complete lack of coherent words.
"Sorry, I-I just saw you talking to that guy. You know… Black shiny hair, silver top, long slender legs, beautiful refined face," he frowned, realising he was delving into details that probably shouldn’t be spoken aloud. "Um, anyway, I wanted to ask if he's also a dancer?"
Something flickered in the girl's eyes. Amusem*nt? James couldn’t be sure due to the dim lighting.
"Yes, he's a dancer. Why?" she inquired with still a polite smile, but there was something guarded in her demeanour.
Yes, he's a dancer. Why? Indeed, what was James planning to do next? He wanted to groan in frustration.
"I-I just was wondering if it’s possible to get a dance from him?" He winced slightly at the last words, realising he probably looked like some kind of freakish idiot.
Lily, James read on the name badge once again, gave him a genuinely wide smile, and he felt a bit lighter. A bit lighter until he heard her response.
"I'm sorry, but no."
What?
"Why?" His tongue reacted faster, letting his disappointed thoughts escape. He could hear the hints of dismay in his own voice.
The girl looked at him with a mix of pity and amusem*nt. sh*t. He definitely looked like an idiot.
"That dancer only works in the VIP area, and unfortunately, all the dances are booked for today," Lily explained, making it clear that the large curtains were part of the club, apparently an exclusive VIP section for special clients. How had he not figured that out earlier? He wanted to drop everything and head there immediately.
"How much?" he asked, his hand immediately reaching into his pocket for his wallet.
The question seemed to amuse the girl even more, and she smiled with understanding. "500 pounds per dance, but as I mentioned, all the dances are reserved for several days in advance."
But James' brain shut down after hearing the amount, and he swiftly handed her his credit card. "Charge double. Triple. I don’t care. I want a dance from him."
The hostess was a bit taken aback by the urgency in his voice and blinked several times, staring at him strangely. However, after a few seconds, she quickly managed to regain her professional mask and said, "I’ll see what we can do."
Taking his card and heading down another corridor that James couldn’t recognize, he could only listen to the sound of her departing heels and the muted bass of the music from the adjacent room.
sh*t, what was he doing? Where were these impulses and urges coming from?
Apparently, alcohol was playing a cruel trick on him, causing him to act recklessly and indulge in primal desires. He had never been particularly interested in such things, and now he was behaving like an obsessed pervert.
Good Lord.
Get it together, James.
He followed the girl, pausing at the crossroads between the main hall and the corridor, and began waiting for her return. Several minutes passed before the hostess’ figure reappeared among the few people wandering back and forth between the rooms. There were a few more clicks of heels before she stopped in front of him.
"I’m so sorry, but that particular dancer is completely unavailable. We can offer you others-"
"No," James interrupted her, and she immediately stopped, blinking again. He almost felt sorry for her, having to endure his out-of-place insistence. "I want that dancer."
He knew he was acting like a dick and would likely be thrown out of the club for his behaviour, but Jesus. It was as if something had snapped in his head. He just wanted to see him again. This desire was burned into his subconscious, constantly itching and burning. Just once. He needed it. Just once.
An awkward silence fell between them. James was lost in his obsessive thoughts, while the girl remained ambiguously silent, apparently contemplating whether to call security or consider her next move.
She pulled out her phone, quickly typing something on the keyboard, and James began nervously tapping his thigh. Ugh. He should have just apologised, turned around, and left instead of continuing to embarrass himself, desperately begging for what he wanted. When a barely audible incoming message alert sounded, the hostess’ expression changed from thoughtful to smirking. Her eyes darted over the glowing screen, and James frowned slightly, thinking she had probably just forgotten about him.
"Well, you’re in luck. He agreed to do a short performance for you instead of taking his break. He only asked for a fivefold payment," the girl said with poorly concealed entertainment, waiting for his reaction and looking at him challengingly.
Well, when the hostess’ words reached his consciousness, it was as if the entire noisy mental process resumed in an instant and then went silent. James felt a mix of adrenaline and astonishment. He had achieved his goal. He needed it just once; the price didn’t matter.
"Okay."
If Lily was surprised, she didn't show it. Only the corners of her raised lips and a mischievous spark in her eyes hinted at something—something that James' tipsy brain couldn’t quite interpret.
"Excellent," she said, turning towards the hall, opening the door, and waving to someone. A light-haired lad, Evan, their waiter, appeared a moment later. James recognised him after a second. The boy stopped next to them, listening attentively as the girl whispered something into his ear. After a brief nod, he turned and gave James a wide smile with the same strange spark of amusem*nt in his eyes as the red-haired girl had. What did that mean?
"I’ll show you the way," he said with a sly grin. Short nod from James, and he led him through the middle of the hall towards the passage with the large black curtains.
As they passed by the tables, James' gaze drifted toward his friends. To his surprise, he saw only Kingsley and Fabian, who had somehow managed to seat the dancer at their table and were now engaged in an animated conversation with her. Frank was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had already left, as he had warned. But James would have noticed him leaving, right?
When they reached the entrance to the separate part of the club, Evan whispered something to the security guard, who then let them through. As he stepped into the unfamiliar territory, he involuntarily gasped. It was indeed clear that this was a VIP area.
Directly in front of him was a long corridor lined with red velvet and the same black marble. Along the corridor were six or seven rooms; he couldn’t count them immediately. Each entrance was covered by dark, heavy curtains, obscuring what was happening behind them. By each curtain stood a man in a black suit, like the one at the main entrance to the VIP area. Security. James involuntarily swallowed, feeling warmth spreading at the back of his neck. Suddenly, he felt a slight wave of nervousness.
Despite James' hesitation, the light-haired boy continued on, leading him to the very last entrance. He nodded to the security guard, who pulled open the curtains, revealing a small view of the room inside.
Evan finally turned to face him and gave a brief, "Good luck," before hurrying away, leaving James standing in the corridor like a dazed fool.
Good luck?
When the security guard cleared his throat, apparently tired of waiting for James to enter, James finally found the strength to gather himself and step into the room. The room where the same boy was already present.
He awkwardly froze as soon as the curtain behind him closed. His gaze quickly scanned the room, noting the same luxurious interior design typical of the VIP area. A large black leather sofa dominated most of the room; it was so wide and long that James was sure it could fit eight people comfortably. Directly in front of the sofa was a low marble table, and a little further away, a small stage with a pole. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all crimson, and he noted the same red lighting throughout the room, replacing the familiar warm yellow dim light.
The scan of the room took no more than a few seconds; his attention immediately fixed on the boy sitting with his back to him on the black marble table, legs crossed. A straight posture and a slightly arched back. James was captivated even by this simple sight.
"I was told you refused to accept dance from anyone else," a quiet voice said, and a shiver ran down his spine. Why did he feel and react this way?
"Um," James awkwardly hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to say or do. He had never been in such situations before. He had never used escort services or even personal striptease. All the impulses that drove him to insist on seeing the boy again had now left him unsure of how to behave. He should have thought twice before starting this whole thing. But well, James Potter always acted first and thought later.
As his silence stretched, the dark-haired boy slowly stood up from the table and turned to face him, freezing for a moment in the same way James' heart did.
f*cking hell.
If, from a distance at his table, in the dim darkness of the club and with his poor eyesight, it had seemed that the boy was very handsome, up close... It was the angelic embodiment of the most beautiful appearance James had ever seen in his life.
All the facial features he could not fully appreciate in the main room of the club now seemed even more exquisite up close. The same lips looked even fuller, the eyelashes even longer, and his hair seemed to shine even brighter, giving him a very soft appearance. James wanted to run his hand through it.
Studying the boy's face as if it were the most fascinating mosaic, he maintained his silent gaze. He was unable to utter a word, hypnotised by the appearance of the dancer before him.
"I gave up my free time because I was told you kept insisting," those same plump, bitten lips were pressed together in slight discontent, and it seemed the boy was about to say something more, but James, as if awakening, interrupted him.
"I’m so sorry," he rasped, frowning slightly from the dryness in his throat.
For a few moments, an odd silence hung in the air, and the boy’s lips, previously pressed together in displeasure, turned into a slight parting. There was a look of surprise in his eyes, and James was ready to once again freeze in time and space, this time admiring the otherworldly shade of his eyes. Light grey, like silver mist or the glow of a full moon. Wow. He wanted to examine them even closer.
"I didn’t mean to disturb you, sorry," James continued, squeezing out the truth and realising that there was nothing else he could say at that moment. He couldn’t lie while looking into those wide-open eyes like Bambi’s. "I... I saw you in the main room and hoped you’d come back, but I was told you only work for VIP clients," he swallowed a small lump in his throat, "and so I just couldn’t help but insist on seeing you again. Sorry, I acted like a complete jerk."
He was indeed a jerk, only thinking about his own impulsive desires and not about others. The boy was definitely displeased with his outburst. Even if it was his job, who was James to interfere? Besides, he had mentioned taking up his free time. What an idiot he was.
"I don’t understand…" If James had thought that the curly-haired boy was surprised before, now his beautiful face showed complete bewilderment at his words.
"I just wanted to see you again, you don’t have to do anything," James raised his hands in a gesture of sincerity, "I... I'm sorry. Everything is already paid for; I hope it’s enough to cover the free time I took from you."
"You paid for a dance just… just to see me?" The dancer continued to stand still, looking at him with confusion. Well, he would probably look at himself the same way if he were in his place. Maybe even worse.
"Um, yes," James awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks flush. sh*t, why did he feel more like an inexperienced teenager than a 27-year-old man? It felt like he had come here just to make a fool of himself.
He received no response to his words, and understanding he had no more reason to stay and risk making himself look even more foolish, he turned towards the exit, ready to leave the room and likely head home. He no longer had any desire to continue the drinking festivities with his colleagues, watch the dancers, or listen to the pounding bass of the music. He just wanted to see the boy again, to admire this angelic being one more time. He had done that. He had gone against the interests of others but he had done it. Now he just needed to leave.
His hand had already reached for the black heavy fabric when a sharp voice made him freeze in place.
"Wait."
James slowly turned back to the dancer, trying to understand what was wrong, and was surprised when he saw the boy's expression.
His lower lip was caught between his teeth, his eyes cast down, and his brows slightly furrowed. Had he done something wrong? The boy's hands were awkwardly clasped together, fingers intertwined and bending in different directions. For a moment, James thought the boy was parodying his own awkwardness and that this was exactly how he looked from the side.
When a quiet whisper escaped the dancer’s lips, James thought he must have misheard—it was so uncertain and soft—"Stay..."
"You don’t have to…" James began, but the boy interrupted him immediately.
"Stay, I want you to," the words were much more confident than before. James felt a hot wave spread through his body as the meaning of the words sank in.
He wanted me to stay?
Really?
James turned fully around, returning to his previous position, and the dancer nodded towards the sofa. The hint was clear. James was just a mere mortal and could not refuse this beautiful nymph. Especially when all he wanted was to keep his eyes on him. And if he wasn’t being thrown out, then…
He crossed the distance to the soft sofa and sat down in the middle, not entirely sure what to expect. As he settled into his place, the boy produced a small remote from somewhere and, after a few presses, dimmed the lighting and directed several white spotlights at the podium. The music grew louder than before. It was different from the one in the main room; this one was far more seductive and sensual.
As the boy ascended the podium, approaching the metal pole and wrapping his graceful hand around it, James noticed, thanks to the bright lighting, that the dancer’s shimmering silver top was nothing more than a sheer chiffon fabric. He could see the outline of the boy’s nipples even from here. James involuntarily licked his lips.
As the dancer began to move slowly to the music, James found himself unable to tear his eyes away. The movements were smooth and graceful; the clinking of chains on his wrists cut through the music. The boy sensually glided his palms up and down the smooth surface of the pole, circling it slowly. One hand wandered to his body, beginning to caress his chest through the sheer fabric. His fingers traced patterns on his pale skin, and James noticed how the pads of his fingers occasionally brushed against his pink nipples. Each touch made the boy’s mouth slightly open, breathing heavily. When James shifted his gaze from the boy’s hands to his face, he saw that the grey eyes were fixed on his brown ones. The boy was watching him and touching his body.
f*ck.
His hips swayed smoothly to the rhythm of the melody. Back and forth. Back and forth. As if he… James clenched his fists tightly, trying to keep his fantasies from going any further, realising that his pants were already uncomfortably tight. Very tight. Damn, it hadn’t even been a minute, and he was already more aroused than he’d ever been.
When the curly-haired boy began lifting the fabric of his top with his fingers, revealing his flat stomach, James felt an intense urge to trace a trail of kisses across the exposed skin. The fabric stopped just short of his nipples, leaving the firm pink circles hidden from view, and the dancer, gripping the top of the metal pole with both hands, began to twist his body, seductively arching his back and continuing to move his hips.
James couldn’t help but imagine how the boy would squirm on him. The fact that the curly-haired youth kept his piercing gaze locked on him made James' dick twitch with desire and anticipation.
He awkwardly shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position and relieve some of the discomfort in his groin, but gosh, with every movement of the boy, it became an increasingly impossible task.
His eyes, like a magnet that had drawn James in from the first second he saw him, rolled upward as the boy temptingly arched forward and ran his hand down to the fabric of his short white briefs. f*ck, those legs…
Just as James thought about those legs, the dancer wrapped them around the pole, making several seductive spins and smoothly sliding down until he was kneeling. One hand continued to caress the metal surface while the other roamed over his chest. His hips moved even more actively now, unmistakably mimicking how the boy would ride an imaginary dick, each time seeming to take in the full length. The curls bounced slightly with his movements, and his open, plump lips and heavily rising chest added to the allure. His hand slid up, finally lifting the fabric of his clothing to reveal the enticing areolas. When two slender fingers pinched one of them, James felt himself catch his breath. The boy continued to play with his nipples, biting his lip hard as if trying not to make any sounds. sh*t, James was on the verge of moaning out loud himself.
The look the boy gave him was beyond words. James felt that those eyes mirrored the full spectrum of emotions he was experiencing—desire, lust, anticipation.
James couldn't believe what was happening to his body and how lucky he was to be witnessing this sinful angel before him. Innocent eyes full of temptation and debauchery. Every movement of the hips, every touch of his own body, and every glance seemed to convey the message, ‘I could do all this with you.’ James felt himself falling into an abyss.
The dancer, continuing his alluring movements, allowed his hand to slide lower, stopping at the zipper of his shorts. Oh, did James imagine it, or was he really...
"Time's up!" Three loud knocks on the wall, and he didn’t immediately grasp what had happened.
His mind, still clouded by lust and desire, took a moment to process that the words had come from the security guard and that the boy, also stunned and lost, hadn't immediately started moving, remaining frozen in the same position.
After a few seconds, the young man snapped out of his trance, quickly standing up, pulling his clothing back into place, and turning completely away from James while pressing buttons on the remote.
God.
James couldn’t move; he was so rigid and aroused that he marvelled at how he hadn’t come in his pants from the boy’s movements. Maybe if it had lasted just a minute longer, that’s exactly what would have happened.
A minute longer? Who was he kidding? He wanted it to never end, to be able to watch the lovely boy’s movements for eternity.
As he was about to say something, perhaps a compliment—honestly, he wasn’t sure what to say, his mind was still in chaos from lust—the boy, after pressing a few more buttons on the remote, quickly disappeared through another exit from the room. sh*t, James didn’t even have a chance to react. He was overwhelmed with the desire to follow the dancer, to find him, to say something—anything. But the curtain parted, and the suited security guard peeked inside, checking the room and gesturing towards the exit. James could only weakly nod and rise on his shaky legs. Oh hell, his erection was probably visible from a mile away.
If it was, the man showed no sign of noticing. It seemed to be a routine situation for him. Well, who wouldn’t get aroused from such a show? James slowly left the VIP area, still in a daze. When he reached the table where his colleagues were sitting, he found only Fabian who was already quite drunk, barely able to string words into sentences.
"Pot-Potter! Mate! Where have you been?" Fabian got up from his seat, leaning heavily on him and wrapping his arms around his neck. James could smell an unpleasant odour on his breath.
"Where’s Kingsley?" He ignored his friend's question, trying to find out where the other one was. After the show he’d just seen, he was completely sober now, and as he started to think more clearly, he was trying to piece together who he had come with and why.
"Mmm, he l-left, p-ck-d up s-me h-t lad," the red-haired man mumbled incoherently, and James had to piece together the meaning of the phrase from fragments.
"Okay," he said uncertainly, trying to figure out what to do next. "I’ll call a taxi, you’ve had enough, buddy." With one hand, which wasn’t supporting his drunken colleague, James reached for his phone to call a car. He opened the bill on the table and left a generous tip, hoping it would be enough to thank the staff and make them overlook his colleagues' behaviour. James knew how they got when they drank.
"I w-nt more," Fabian protested, but James didn’t even listen, starting to lead him slowly towards the exit.
Gosh. It was all because of him. It was all because of Fabian. If he hadn’t agreed to go to this damn club with him, none of this would have happened, and he would have spent his usual quiet Saturday evening watching a stupid action movie. And now what? James had so many confusing thoughts swirling in his head, and he didn’t know how to react to them. The still hard co*ck also did not help in this situation.
When they finally reached the exit, James noticed the red-haired girl and the blonde waiter. They were whispering and giggling about something but fell silent abruptly when they saw them.
The girl cleared her throat and asked, "Did you enjoy your time with us?"
The couple stared at him with expectation and the same spark in their eyes. James was about to respond, but Fabian, who was swaying and grinning widely, interrupted.
"Oh y-yeah, we’ll d-finitely c-me again. Right, J-James?" His friend asked, and James felt his face flush. He could think of only one reason why he would want to come back here.
"Yes," he answered briefly and, upon receiving a notification that the taxi had arrived, politely said goodbye to the staff. As he opened the doors, Fabian, unable to keep his mouth shut for more than 30 seconds, asked, "By th- way, w-where were you? And w-why are you so- hic -red?"
James didn’t answer the question and, though he wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, he thought he heard a quiet laugh from behind.
He felt like he would remember this evening for the rest of his life.
