Free Joy and Pain by Celia Kyle Page A

talking to the guy so I swing around on the stool, back against the bar, sipping at my water and watching Marcus move.
    He’s not a “real” dancer. Then again, I’m not either. I shouldn’t judge.
    He’s getting a good amount of attention. At least enough to keep ‘em away from me, so I’m a happy camper at the moment.
    “Tevin!” That’s the boss calling for me and I turn toward him, pulling my brows together when I see him waving me over.
    Fuck. He wants me to play nice with the big mother-fucker.
    I slink toward them. Slink. That’s right. The practiced roll of my hips that screams sex, pretty pout on my lips that’ll make him wonder what it’d be like to fuck my face.
    I won’t, but a strip club is about the tease, right?
    I ease onto the stool next to Luca’s new friend, making sure, I brush against him and he just looks at me, single brow raised. As if saying, “Excuse me?”
    I turn away from him and focus on my boss. “You beckoned?”
    “I’d like you to meet Zeke. Zeke, this is Tevin.”
    I hold out my hand for Zeke and he envelopes me with his bear paw. I remain passive, grip loose. I’m sex incarnate, submissive and just a play toy. At least, I pretend to be for customers.
    “Hello.” I purr. Honest to god.
    Again I get a single brow before Zeke releases me and turns that look on Luca.
    With a sigh, my boss growls at me. “Quit it, Tev. He’s not a customer. He’s a buddy from the Army.”
    Really?
    So, I turn it off. The sexy invitations vanish and I’m just a twenty-two year old ex-ballet dancer again. Complete with horrible posture. My instructors always bitched about that.
    “You have the most beautiful extension on-stage and you slouch like a slob off-stage.”  This proclamation was typically followed by a cluck of their tongue.
    I put my elbow on the bar, prop my chin on my hand and turn to Zeke. “So, what brings you to our fair establishment? Other than naked boys.”
    I get a smile then, even a chuckle. Well, I can’t hear it, but his chest (big assed chest) shakes. “I’m just checking out Luca’s bar. I moved here a couple of weeks ago and he’s been asking me to come down, have a drink.” He pauses, gaze taking me in from head to toe. “Check things out.”
    And just like that, I don’t give a damn that he’s checking me out. His voice is deep, growly like the bear he is and I can just imagine what he’d look like naked.
    There’s a bellow from a customer and Luca disappears, leaving me with Mr. Army Guy.
    “So, how are you finding things in our little old town?” I brace my feet on the stool and lean over the bar, snag a little bowl of peanuts to nosh on.
    When I turn back to him, I find him looking at me. Not in the “we’re having a conversation” kind of way. Oh, no. It’s the “let’s find a flat surface” kind of way.
    He takes a swig of his beer, sets it down as he turns toward me and gives me a better look at how well built he is.
    I thought his thighs were thick, bi’s are enormous, hands as big as dinner plates, but his shoulders are as wide as an axe handle. Swear to god.
    This dude doesn’t just have muscles, he is a muscle.
    “It’s nice. I live over by Crestview, small neighborhood, quiet. But at least I can still find some nightlife and entertainment.”
    And he’s not looking at me like he’s thinking this club is his idea of “nightlife and entertainment”.
    “Yeah, Crestview is a pretty gay-friendly community and we’ve got a lot of different events for us queer folks.” I wink at him and he smiles big, reaching all the way up to his bright blue eyes. Hot damn.
    Why’d I have to meet him here?
    “Good to know.”
    And I can’t figure out if he’s happy to know about the events or that I’m one of the queer folks. “Yeah, there’s a munch-”
    I stop myself, realizing I probably just told a vanilla guy about a kinky lunch. Okay, I’m into kink and Luca’s into kink, hence the knowledge of the munch, but who knows if