Private Dances

Okay, buddy. Close your eyes and listen to the damn music. No thinking.

None.

Except about the money.

And pizza.

Oh... That sounded good.

Maybe mushroom and sausage. Extra cheese.

There was no touching. No inappropriate groping. Just the music and the sound of the big guy breathing hard and the... unnerving silence from the other one. He could feel those eyes on him. He really could.

It made him nervous, made his heart race a touch.
Sorta started to make him hard, which was weird as all hell.

The song ended and another started up, not really Rick's sort of thing, more his own, which was okay, just a little freaky. But it was a little easier to ride the bronc to. It made him smile, thinking about bronc riding, about the way horses felt when they were moving and how he had managed to use that to make money in the big city.

Go him.

There. Now somewhere there at the end of that song he heard a sound, and it wasn't the big guy whimpering, though that was there too now that he was listening. It sounded like a growl. That was his last bar on that one, and he had one song to go. That was how it went. Private dance was three in a row.

The next song was slow, sultry, the house lights going low as George and Hank did their damn near fucking on stage act. It was surprisingly hot, the guys' relationship new enough that the emotions weren't faked, weren't fucked up.

Well, that and that black light body paint shit they used in their act?

Fucking cool.