Page 42 of Bassist With Benefits
“Let’s just go,” Jeremy said, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping on the screen. “I’m calling Felix. He’s gonna rip these guys a new fucking asshole.” He put the phone to his ear and was silent for a few seconds. “We almost got railroaded by a mob of fans outside the hotel. Security couldn’t handle it.” Jeremy listened for a moment. “Only two guys. Yeah. Only two.” There was a pause while Felix ranted on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you.” Another short pause. “Fine. Thanks, Felix.” Jeremy ended the call and stuck the phone in his pocket. “He’s gonna make sure they’re following us. And he’s fucking livid.”
After the limo traveled a few blocks from the hotel, the crowd of people on the sidewalk thinned to those with their own agenda, but Bulletproof still needed their security team, or at least the two that had bothered to show up. Felix called back and had a one-sided conversation with Jeremy.
“Fine… OK… I know… Good,” Jeremy said before he ended the call. He raised his brows and blew air out between his lips. “I’m almost sorry I called him.”
“He gave them hell, huh?” Derek asked.
Jeremy didn’t need to answer. Felix was always on his A-game, and he never accepted anything less from those around him.
When they got to The Bear Bar, a black SUV was waiting in front of the place with the two bodyguards standing outside, shifting very uncomfortably from foot to foot. They were straight, muscle-bound juiceheads who looked like they’d rather wade through a pool of hungry sharks than enter a gay strip club.
“I don’t think they want to come inside,” Derek said with a laugh. He scooted forward to get a better look out the window. “We can give ‘em a break. I think we’ll be alright. There’s security inside.” He opened the door, jumped out and went ahead to talk to the bodyguards and the security guy at the door.
Alan stood next to the limo wishing they were going anywhere else but inside that fucking club. He looked up at the hot pink neon lights above the building that bore the name of the bar and the blinking silhouette of a burly dude. It didn’t matter that he preferred twinks, a good fuck was a good fuck, and a month ago he would have been up for a place like The Bear Bar. His eyes went to Jeremy, the complete opposite of a petite, boyish-looking gay dude, and it was proof that stereotypes went out the window once the heart was involved.
“You coming?” Jeremy called over his shoulder.
“If you’re going in, I’m going in.”
Jeremy stopped and looked at Alan, obviously taken aback by the curt statement and biting tone, but Alan just kept walking.
The place was dark and the music was loud, saturating the room with a hard beat. Heads turned as soon as they walked inside. Club security escorted them to a private table near a cage that housed a hulking dude wearing nothing but a thick black dog collar, spiked gauntlets up to his elbows, and a matching cock ring. Similar cages were set up around the room, some with two or three men inside, all illuminated by a bright spotlight.
A waiter appeared holding a tray with three open beers. He made eye contact with Derek, Alan, and Jeremy as he set the bottles down on the table. “Anything you want, anything you need, I’m right here for you,” he said in his husky voice. He was tall, well over six feet. He had mountainous shoulders, and his thick beard almost touched his gargantuan, shirtless chest. The heavy chain that connected the barbells in his nipples swayed with a tinkling sound as he poured the beer into Alan’s glass. The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile as he eyed Alan. “I’ve got something special for you. If you want it, just step into the back room.” He nodded his bald head toward a black curtain.
Alan took a deep breath and held it for a second. They were there for less than ten minutes and a proposition was already on the table. He had no idea how the hell he was supposed to dodge the sexual invitations tonight. Maybe if he got drunk, everyone would leave him alone. “Can I get a bottle of Jack Daniels and some glasses?”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”
Derek slapped Alan on the back. “That’s the spirit, bruh! Let’s get hammered and then get our rocks off. Look at this place!”
The waiter was back with the liquor and his eyes were exclusively on Alan. “Would you like me to pour it for you?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks.” He handed the guy a twenty, mostly to get rid of him, but the twinkle in the waiter’s eyes made Alan realize that the tip only meant he’d be back for more.
Alan filled three glasses halfway with the bourbon. He raised his glass for a toast, but couldn’t think of one.
“To cock!” Derek shouted before banging his glass against Alan and Jeremy’s.
“To cock,” Alan and Jeremy repeated. At least the toast brought a smile to Alan’s lips. He drained his glass and refilled it, simply because he needed something to do. There were cocks on display everywhere he turned. Across the room, a dude was standing on the table, pants around his ankles, getting sucked off through the bars of the cage by its occupant.
“Woo!” Derek was on his feet, hanging onto the bars of the cage in front of them, watching the dancer’s enormous erection bounce as he pumped his hips to the music.
Derek was obviously over-the-top excited about being surrounded by a room full of burly, hulking dudes with barely any clothes on. Alan was doing everything possible to figure out how to get the hell out of there – feign sickness, fall and break an ankle, anything! But it was Jeremy’s low-key, quiet lack of interaction that was most disturbing, because Alan had no idea what was going through his lover’s head.
Derek slammed back his drink. “Time to mingle!” He grabbed Alan and Jeremy by the arm and pulled them to their feet. “I’ve got my eye on that dude with the hairy chest by the bar. You two go do your thing. See you in a bit.”
Alan and Jeremy were left standing there staring at one another.
Jeremy lowered his eyes for a second and pushed his long hair behind his ears. “Lead the way.”
Alan wanted to hightail it out of there, slip out the door with Jeremy and return in an hour with a made-up story of double teaming a pair of hairy bears. A chair was suddenly thrust underneath Alan, and he found himself straddled by the waiter, who was now wearing a leather whip around his neck. The colossal waiter traced the whip down the center of Alan’s chest and rotated his hips inches from Alan’s cock. At that close distance, the thick blond hair on the guy’s chest was visible, and his woodsy, earthy scent infiltrated Alan’s nostrils.
The dance was slow and seductive. The whip was hard and cold around the back of Alan’s neck. A sharp jerk brought their faces closer together and caused Alan to take in a deep breath. Sweat pearled on his upper lip. The erotic show was mesmerizing and seductive. Captivating. But there was no movement at his crotch. He didn’t want this guy. He wanted Jeremy.
The waiter’s hands were on Alan’s chest, snaking their way down his torso. The guy dropped to his knees and started to unfasten Alan’s belt buckle. Fuck! Alan pushed to his feet as fast as he could and sprinted in the opposite direction. He searched for Jeremy, but couldn’t find him. Fear stopped Alan dead. What if Jeremy was in the back, getting fucked by one of these big dudes? Coming to a place like this was a bad fucking idea, and it was time to get the fuck out of there. He spun around to look for Jeremy, searching the room with his eyes, but only found Derek watching one of the cages. He darted through the crowd, but slowed to a leisurely pace when he got within a few feet of Derek, trying to act as if nothing was wrong, even though his heart pounded in his ears and his breath was labored. He joined Derek and stared up at the guy dancing in the cage, who was slowly stroking his cock.
“Mmm,” Derek sighed.
