Yeah, the title needs work… this is from an unpublished short story about a 60-year-old man who falls for a younger man…who is actually a centuries-old fae. And a stripper and porn star.
The lights went out completely, eliciting gasps and a couple shrieks from the crowd. When the lights came up again, a young man stood in the center of the stage.
His cowboy hat and emerald green shirt, with faded jeans and tooled leather boots, were nothing remarkable, but Ted’s eyes were drawn to him immediately. The man’s dark hair flopped adorably into one eye, and despite the distance Ted would have bet anything the man’s eyes were the same green as his shirt. Even if it wasn’t a probably color for human eyes.
Padraic’s movements on the stage made the other dancers look like clumsy amateurs. He was smooth, graceful, everything ninety percent of the men in the audience either wanted to be or wanted in their partner. From the small smile which played at the corners of his mouth, he knew exactly the effect he had.
Ted found himself pushing toward the stage without conscious decision. He had to see Padraic’s closer up. He needed to touch him. Touching was allowed if one was giving the dancers money. Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet without stopping. He had a couple dollar bills inside. Those would do.
Of course, he wasn’t the only one who had gone to the stage. Everyone wanted to be closer to Padraic. Everyone wanted to touch him. Ted knew he was crazy to think the guy would even notice him, but when Padraic turned in his direction, he was sure he’d been seen.
The dancer, shedding his clothes as he went, altered his moves so he occasionally reached out to the men and few women on the floor in front of the stage. Hands held up crumpled cash, and the dancer took it all. His fingers brushed those of the crowd, but he didn’t allow any of them to touch him.
Ted’s hands itched to touch the man’s smooth, oiled skin. He pressed against the stage and held up one of the dollar bills.
Padraic’s smile grew and he stopped in front of Ted, still undulating but staying in one spot. And instead of taking the money from Ted’s hand, he lowered himself, bending his knees without losing the beat of the music, and motioned for Ted to put the money in the waist of his briefs.
Ted did, and when his hands touched Padraic’s bare skin, he thought he would die from pleasure. The man’s skin was pure satin.
Padraic swayed slowly while Ted, with shaking hands, slipped the dollar into his waistband. Then he took Ted’s hands and placed them on his brief-covered hips. Ted had never been much of a dancer, but he moved in perfect rhythm with Padraic. He looked up, barely daring to meet the other man’s gaze, and his cock grew even harder when he saw he’d been right about the color of those eyes.
“Dance with me,” Padraic mouthed. Or perhaps he spoke aloud. Ted couldn’t hear over the music.
Padraic suddenly jumped down from the stage and put his hands on Ted’s shoulders. Some of the other audience members grumbled and gasped, but Ted barely heard them. He was entirely focused now on the young man whose eyes drew him in. They moved so smoothly together, as if they had been made to dance with each other.
He forgot he didn’t know how to dance. Forgot how young the other man was. They were the same height, and he saw nothing except those brilliant green eyes.
The song shifted to something with more bass and a slower tempo. Padraic squeezed Ted’s shoulders and gracefully stepped back. “Thank you. You’re a wonderful dancer.”
He leaped back onto the stage, and Ted stumbled, feeling as if the breath had been taken from him. His heart pounded and his arousal rose to a level he hadn’t experienced in years.
He stepped backward, colliding with others as he scrambled away from the stage. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. Dancing with a stripper? Who does that?