Stage Fright by Pender Mackie Page B

leaned back, his head on her shoulder, and reached for her hands, placing them on his chest. She shrieked as he rubbed them over his nipples before dragging them slowly down his body. Just before the woman’s hands reached the top of his G-string, Jesse jumped up, wagging his finger at her and shaking his head as if she’d tried to grope him. All the women at her table laughed.
    Twin flames of jealousy and possessiveness burned within Val, but he knew Jesse wouldn’t appreciate those sentiments. He ground his teeth together. It was just a game Jesse was playing, and the women knew that too, didn’t they? Jesse wasn’t turned on, but he was very good at pretending. He’d looked as if he’d loved that woman touching his body. Did Jesse pretend for him too?
    Was he secretly unsatisfied with Val as a lover? Val didn’t like to bottom. He didn’t like giving up control, letting another man inside his body. Jesse had never asked, but did he want that?
    Jesse strutted back to the stage and disappeared with the other dancers as the MC announced the nightly contest, asking for volunteers and promising prizes for the participants.
    Val wanted to leave the bar, go backstage, and find Jesse, feel Jesse’s cock stiffen in his hand as he kissed him and touched him. He slammed his palm against the side of the ice machine. The two women approaching the bar gave him wary looks.
“The ice is stuck,” Val lied.
    He fixed their orders and the drinks of the women who came after them. There was always a bit of a run on the bar while the contest was underway and all the dancers backstage. Val made the drinks for the last two customers and pushed their glasses toward them.
The brunette smiled seductively. “What’s your name?”
    Her friend grabbed her arm. “Forget about him. Come on, the strippers will be back out in a minute.”
Val watched them make their way back to their seats. He hadn’t liked Vegas much before he met Jesse, but he liked it even less now.
* * * *
    Jesse towel-dried his hair. The night had been crazy. They’d had three bachelorette groups. He suspected most of the audience had been drunk long before they got to the theater. He dreaded the meet and greet—he’d started thinking of it as the meat and greet—and not just because Val might be unhappy with him. It would probably be a gong show.
    There were more women than usual willing to pay for a photo with the stillsweating dancers, and each one of those loud, happy, and very inebriated females seemed determined to attend the subsequent get-together. Jesse dawdled in the dressing room until the last possible minute. He stood at the entrance to the bar, and for a few seconds he couldn’t make himself breach the almost physical barrier of cigarette smoke and clashing perfumes. He took a fortifying breath and pushed forward, buffeted by loud, overlapping conversations and laughter.
    He put up with the touching and politely ignored most of the innuendos and flirting. After half an hour he felt tired and grubby. He wanted to talk to his boyfriend so he could have a conversation that wasn’t loaded with sexual suggestion. And how weird did that sound? He waited until Val was alone before taking a break for a soda.
Val saw him coming. He thumped the glass onto the bar while Jesse was still five feet away.
     
Jesse eyed him. “Everything okay?”
     
“Sure.” Val bit the word off.
    Uh-oh. Jesse’s gut churned. “Crazy night, huh?” Val set his lips in a firm line and didn’t answer. “Val…” Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek.
    “Look at them. They’re like jackals. They think buying a ticket gives them the right to maul and paw. They’re even hitting on Eric, and he keeps his clothes on. He’s the MC, for God’s sake.” Val gestured with his chin. “That one in the tank top has her hand in Chaz’s back pocket. You’ve no idea how much I want to tell those women to keep their fucking hands to themselves.”
    “Chaz doesn’t mind. He