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this deliciously decadent city. He'd decided to do what was
expected of him, to go back to the life that had been laid out
for him by his family. There seemed to be no other choice.
Now, a few hours of love-making later, he felt as if he
were on an entirely different path. It was cowardly, he
realized. It was only a compromise. He was kicking the can
down the road so that he could avoid making a painful
decision. He knew that the dark secret he kept from Rustin
would lead to a catastrophic confrontation, but he was not
ready to bare his soul. If he told Rustin the truth about his
engagement to Kirsten, all would be ruined.
So he parsed his words. He was very careful not to make
promises. Instead he offered solutions. Wasn't that what his
Daddy had taught him? You can't please everyone, but you
sure as hell can make them think you can. Keeping Delta's
home afforded him a means to provide for Rustin and assured
that he'd be available to Dutch when he needed an escape
from the pretentious life he was doomed to live. It was
something he could easily explain to his mother. Presently the
market was not good, and it would be foolish to sell at a time
that property values were so low. Rustin was just his tenant,
and nothing more.
93
Cocktails
by Jeff Erno
Rustin leaned into him, pressing his hand against the lower
part of Dutch's back. "I love the house," he said. "It's
unbelievable. Thank you for ... well, for everything. It's going
to be just perfect."
Dutch smiled at Rustin without speaking. He looked down
at the pavement beneath his feet.
"You have a decision to make." A stranger's voice
interrupted them.
* * * *
"You have a decision to make," Colby repeated to the
customer. "Do you want to slide that bill down the front of my
shorts ... or the back?" He was kneeling on the bar, leaning
over to speak directly into the ear of the middle aged man
who'd been tipping him.
The gentleman smiled, revealing a row of tar-stained
incisors. "Where do you want it, baby?"
Colby leaned back on his haunches and then slowly thrust
his pelvis forward, right into the customer's perspiring face.
Beads of sweat rolled down the man's chubby cheeks as he
fumbled with the dollar bill, snatching the elastic waistband of
the shorts with one hand and using the other to cram the bill
deep down into Colby's privates.
The portly customer giggled, bouncing on his barstool as
he stared up at the nearly naked dancer. Colby continued to
smile at him sweetly. "Thank you, baby," Colby said, again
leaning down to whisper into the man's ear. "I love it when
you touch me that way."
94
Cocktails
by Jeff Erno
The customer wiggled in his seat as he plunged his hand
into his own pocket, pulling out a fresh wad of bills. Without
any further encouragement, he peeled off a twenty, and slid it
into the dancer's waistband.
"Oh yeah," Colby said. "Feels so good."
Tommy stood less than three feet away, taking in the
scene. He shook his head as he turned to his partner. "Colby's
got himself a live one tonight."
Deejay nodded. "He's definitely a payer. Some sort of
newspaper editor or something. He'll drop two or three
hundred tonight easy."
"I don't get it," Tommy said. "Why doesn't he just hire
himself an escort? I mean, it'd be a lot cheaper."
Deejay shrugged and grinned. "Babe, it's the whole
atmosphere. The music, the public setting. Look around. That
man thinks that out of all these people in this bar, Colby has
chosen to shower him with affection."
"But that's because he's paying."
"Part of the illusion," Deejay laughed. "The fantasy."
"Well, I guess I can't fault the guy. I know how easy it is
to be swept away by a fantasy, especially when it involves a
go-go dancer." He was remembering his own experience
when he'd first started working at The Men's Room. Tommy
had dated one of the dancers briefly before he started seeing
Deejay.
"It obviously makes the man happy. I don't think anyone
here can look at him and say he's not having a great time."
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Cocktails
by Jeff Erno
Tommy laughed. "Well, that's easy for you to say. You're
not the one who's going to be scrubbing down that bar stool
at the end of the night."
Deejay snapped his towel, nailing Tommy on the cheek of
his butt.
"Ouch!" Tommy protested. He balled up his fist and
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