Stage Fright by Pender Mackie Page A

captain only singled out individual dancers to give them grief. Jesse didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He hadn’t screwed up a routine, and he was the first one out of the shower tonight and the first one dressed after Chaz, so he wasn’t running late, but he couldn’t think of anything else.
He tried to anticipate and preempt Chaz’s complaint. “I’m ready. I just need to comb my hair. Then I’ll hit the meet and greet.”
    “Sure.” Chaz nodded agreeably. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes. By the way, good work tonight.”
Jesse kept his surprise hidden and his response short. “Thanks.”
    Chaz draped an arm across his shoulder. “Listen. When you’re out in the audience, don’t run back to the stage like you’re in second place in the Las Vegas Marathon. Give the women time to grab a piece of the action. Yeah?” Chaz moved his arm, and for a split second Jesse had the crazy idea Chaz was about to grab his ass, but the dance captain only gave him a one-armed hug.
    Jesse said nothing.
“Maybe sit on a lap or two. Grind a little.” Chaz’s voice dropped as if they were coconspirators. “If it helps, pretend it’s your boyfriend’s lap. Val, right? That’s who you’re seeing, isn’t it?”
Jesse pressed his lips together. He heard the unspoken threat. “Okay, fine.”
“That’s the idea.” Chaz slapped his back and left.
Jesse slammed his locker door, drawing a couple of curious looks from the other dancers.
* * * *
    The next night Jesse decided to add Chaz’s suggestions to his routine. He’d wanted to talk to Val about it, but that almost felt like he was asking for permission to do his job or, worse, asking Val to solve his problems.
    Maybe Val wouldn’t notice if Jesse mixed it up a little, or if he did, he wouldn’t think anything of it. Most of the guys straddled someone’s lap at least once in the show. It meant nothing.
    VAL HATED THIS part. His shoulders tensed as Jesse and the other dancers left the stage at the end of a group number and slipped into the audience. Jesse bestowed a hug here, a grin there. Val understood this was part of Jesse’s job. He did. But did Jesse have to look like he was enjoying it so much?
    Val could handle Jesse dancing; he liked to watch, even. It was fine when Jesse was up there, dancing under the lights, but when he left the safety of the stage, he was fair game. Val winced at every slap, every rough grope that sullied that silken, golden skin. When they were alone, he couldn’t help smoothing his palms over Jesse’s body as if trying to erase the unwanted, invasive touches of the audience members who treated his lover like some kind of sex toy.
    Jesse chose a young woman sitting at the end of a table. She squealed as he pulled her forward to the edge of her seat and parted her thighs. Val watched, incredulous as Jesse gripped the sides of her chair and dropped his hips, his bare ass undulating as if he were fucking her. The woman put her hand on Jesse’s head and grinned at her friends.
    Water oozed up between Val’s knuckles and over the back of his hand as he squeezed the bar rag tightly. Jesse liked to experiment with his act, but this was too much. What the fuck was he thinking? Val swore under his breath. His lover was debasing himself for some silly girl as she laughed at him with her friends.
    The woman covered her mouth and giggled. Jesse stood up and hugged her. She hugged him back and swatted his ass as he moved toward the stage. Val stared at her, eyes narrowed, as her friends congratulated her as if she’d done something special. He sincerely hoped she didn’t come to the meet and greet. If he weren’t a professional, he’d be tempted to spit in her drink.
    The next time the dancers ventured into the audience, Jesse stopped beside a table of noisy drunks. He sat on a woman’s lap, facing away from her. Val clenched his jaw. The woman wore a skirt, and the flesh of Jesse’s thighs would be touching her skin. Jesse