Torrid Affair 1

"My sister asked me to find a good looking guy that can actually dance, to be a male stripper for her bachelorette party. Want to do it?" Leonora, tall, elegant, raven-curled and blessed with curves for days, smiled from behind her broad desk. Trey set the last aluminum chair against the whitewashed wall and looked up the long studio floor at the ballroom dance school's proprietress sitting at the far end, close by the double-door entrance. "Your sister wants a what?" He sauntered across the heavily waxed dance floor to perch on the edge of her desk. Leonora tapped the leather-bound appointment book before her with her decorative green and yellow ballpoint. Her red nails gleamed under the studio's bright lights. "She wants a male stripper."

"Huh." Trey pulled at the elastic holding his shoulder-length blond hair back. He freed it long enough to comb it through his fingers then bind the fine straight hair back into its customary tail. "So, why not hire one from the phone book?" He stood up and turned sideways to tuck his discreetly pleated tuxedo shirt back into his snug black dance pants. That afternoon's salsa class had been pretty rowdy. A bunch of excitable housewives had brought their less than enthused husbands. The husbands had warmed up as soon as they saw how hot all the hip shaking got their wives. "Forget the phone book." Leonora scowled. Not pretty with all that red lipstick. "My sister wants a man that knows how to dance. Most male strippers suck at it."

"Oh." Trey frowned and folded his arms. "So you think I'd be better? "Look, you're amazingly cute, long blond hair, blue eyes, you're built, and you dance like raw sex when you're in the mood. You're perfect." Leonora held out his gold, wire-framed glasses. "It's worth five hundred bucks." Trey froze, hand outstretched. "Five hundred bucks?" Leonora smiled broadly. "For twenty minutes of your time."

"Wow." Trey took his glasses and put them on. The world abruptly dropped into focus. He could see long distance just fine without his glasses. It was the middle distance and up close that gave him problems. "That's quite a bit of money."

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"All you need to do is show up here." Leonora scribbled an address on the back of one of the ballroom dance school's business cards. "Bring a g-string and those tall sexy boots you wore to the last competition, for the pirate thing. I'll bring the music." She held up the card and pouted at him. "Shall I tell her to write out the check?" Trey took the card and examined the address. It was a public hall not too far out on the edge of town. He'd done a dance contest there once before. "The money is nice, but I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Too late sucker, you took the card!" Leonora pulled her hands back and grinned broadly. "Can't back out now!" Trey sighed. He might as well give in because he knew for a fact that he'd lose any debate with her anyway. He was a pushover and she knew it. "Okay, so where do I get a g-string for a guy?" Leonora happily scribbled on another business card. "'Presario's Lingerie', the best little adult toy store in the city!" She held it up grinning. "Leather, handsome. The ladies like leather."

Trey walked through the glass doors of `Presario's' and stopped in astonishment. He had thoroughly expected a sordid and trashy men's magazine place, but this shop was set up like an expensive and classy boutique. Everything was tastefully displayed with direct lighting on the products and soft lighting everywhere else. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Bemused, Trey walked to the counter, and asked the girl where the male g-strings were located. She grinned, showing the cutest dimple in her cheek.

"Really?" She leaned over the counter to look him up and down, then licked her lips. "Damn, you're fine too. You're gonna make somebody very happy!" She pointed toward the back. "Go down that isle, they're on the back wall." Smiling from her compliment, Trey sauntered down the indicated isle, making his way toward the back. The shelves were loaded with every kind of brightly colored sex toy imaginable. He'd had no clue that there were this many different kinds of dildos, in that many shapes and sizes. He snorted and smiled. Scary...

A head of him, Trey spotted another male customer frowning at a tasteful bondage display. The g-strings were on the wall just past him. Trey pushed his glasses higher up on his nose and moved past him. The customer turned to look at Trey. Trey turned to look at him - and almost stopped in his tracks. The man's face was painfully masculine with strong high cheekbones, a square jaw, straight nose, and slanted black eyes under upswept black brows. His sleek black hair was combed straight back and bound into a tiny queue. He was clearly an oriental, but one hell of a nice specimen.

His long dark coat was no disguise for his incredible build. His shoulders were amazingly broad, tapering down to slim hips and strong thighs. Trey passed him and couldn't help but think that the guy would have been a far better choice for a stripper. But could he dance? He smiled. Probably not. Painfully masculine guys like that rarely bothered to learn how to move their bodies, not when it was so much easier to simply pose. Trey continued to the wall and finally came across the display of male g-strings on tiny hangers. He frowned. They were little more than dick-pouches with straps, and awfully small.

He sighed and flipped through the selection. A leather one caught his eye. He pulled it down to check the `holding capacity' and frowned. How was he supposed to get all of him in something so small? He flipped through a few more and found something a bit roomier. He pulled it down. He was pretty sure he could get all of him in there... "What? Is it too big?" Trey sighed.

"No, too small." He looked over his shoulder. It was him, the oriental guy, right behind him, almost touching. The guy was a couple of inches taller, so Trey actually had to look up. Heat flushed through him and his heart thumped for no apparent reason. A straight black brow lifted over a very direct midnight gaze, and a slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Is that for your lover?"

"No." Trey's cheeks heated. He looked away, dodging his gaze, but raised his chin. "Me."

"You?" The smile appeared, like a sunrise. "Are you a stripper?" The guy's gaze slid down Trey's body then back up. "You definitely got the body for it." Trey's breath caught, both pleased and appalled by the compliment. Was the guy flirting? He seemed to have that, `interested' look in his eye. What should he say? His impulse was to flirt back. That's what one did when a woman flirted with you. But this was a guy! So? What could it hurt to flirt back just a little? It wasn't as if he'd ever come back in this store again. Oh, what the hell... Trey pulled out his sexiest smile and tilted his head to look over the top edge of his glasses.

"Yep. I'm shopping for a stripper costume." He held up the leather dick-pouch. "Really?" The guy's lush mouth curved up into a devastatingly erotic smile, sharpened and honed by his direct and distinctly predatory black gaze. He leaned a hair closer to Trey's back, almost making contact. "I'd like to see that, you dancing." Warm breath caressed Trey's cheek, and heat rolled off the guy's body, carrying the scent of clean masculine sandalwood soap. And a hint of something more feral. Under that unyielding gaze, warmth flushed up Trey's collar and into his cheeks, then spilled back down into his belly. His dick twitched, filling, tightening, hardening... His smile slipped and he swallowed hard.

Good God, he was getting turned on! Time to go! Trey broke the guy's unblinking and aggressive stare and rolled smoothly away from his maddening presence. He turned back to smile at him. No need to piss the guy off with a hard cut. "Sorry, it's just a private show." The guy turned, frowning. "A private show?" Trey twirled the g-string on his finger and waved. "Real shame you can't see me perform. I'm a damned good dancer." The guy's brows dropped low, his gaze hardening. Oh shit, talk about playing with fire!

"Bye!" Trey turned around and practically bolted up to the front of the store. He had to get out of there! The night of the performance came faster than Trey expected. The drive was uncomplicated, and the hall was easy to find. He parked his Jeep behind what looked like, about a million suburban housewife type vehicles and strode into the single-story building, in plain black jeans and a plainer black t-shirt, his jacket and his smallest black gym bag flung over his shoulder. The main room was big and dark with dozens of tiny round tables covered in red cloths, crammed with aluminum chairs. The square stage in the very center wasn't too bad, or all that big. It was a rental stage, so no brass pole.

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