This story is an erotic MM romance.
After six years, cellist Roman returns home in search of more than just international fame. He attends college on a one month trial basis, hoping to prove to himself and his boyfriend Benjamin that he’s capable of living a normal life.
There’s one complication he didn’t count on. His high school crush, the straight, untouchable Jaxton is there when he arrives. And his best friend Thayer takes an instant shine to Roman, arranging to see him play at a local club, Crimson 8. With prior warning that the club is a gay man’s fantasy come true, where anything and everything can happen, Jaxton is dragged along with a group of his friends to see Roman play.
What happens that night, and the next, will change the course of all their lives forever.
By the time seven o’clock came around, Jaxton glared at the Crimson 8 club sign above the building across the street. It looked innocent enough from afar, but Thayer had already told him that once inside the building, you could see it displayed on notice boards much more clearly.
From where he stood it looked like an 8-ball in reverse, with a white ball and a black number eight, which bled into the black surround of the sign at the top and bottom. Thayer said it was actually two men, curving their legs into an O shape. Their torsos supplied the ‘bleed’ effect at the top and bottom of the image. Personally, Jaxton didn’t want to see the up close version.
There was, surprisingly, a bouncer at the door who checked their IDs to make sure they were over eighteen. They had already agreed that they were going to only stay for half an hour, so that they got out of there before the hardcore stuff began at half seven. He only hoped nothing untoward happened before then.
“Evening gentlemen. May I take your coats?” A tall, blonde man asked them as they were shown into a lobby area. Jaxton removed his sports jacket and reluctantly handed it over. He watched as the man gathered up the coats from them all and flashed them a smile.
“Thanks Kendall.” Thayer smiled at the guy, who, discretely, winked at him as he took his coat.
“You know this guy?” Jaxton asked.
“He’s in my fantasy football circuit online. We only found out about this connection, that I’d been here and he works here, six months ago.” He explained as they were led through rich red, double doors. Kendall hung their coats into a small cloakroom on the left of the doors and then returned to them, with a glittering smile, well kept hair and perfect white teeth.
Jaxton looked around the room they were brought into; it was massive, with at least a dozen low, round black tables, with black bucket chairs in the the main area of the room. Along the sides were booths, with thick, tall wooden columns between each booth.
“At eight, those booth tables fold up into the wall, drawing a bed out of the floor.” Thayer explained in a whisper. Jaxton turned to him, sure he couldn’t be telling the truth, but he nodded with a faint smile, making him swallow nervously. He glanced at Jalen uncertainly, but he just shrugged, unconcerned and smiled at Kendall, who was politely waiting for them.
When they gave him their attention, Kendall led them into the main area of the room and took them to a table at the very far end, right in front of the stage. It was far too close for Jaxton’s comfort, but Thayer had made the arrangements the day before.
“Why are we so close?” He asked.
“You wanted to see Roman, right? Well, these are the best seats. I asked Kendall, when I called to make the reservation.” He said, with a shrug. Jaxton sank into his seat, uncomfortably, cursing his friends for dragging him to such a place.
Before he could speak, a tall, elegant black man walked onto the stage in a tailored grey suit, with no coat, showing off his waistcoat and a gold pocket watch that he held in his hand. He checked the time, gave the watch a nod and closed the lid, slipping it into his waistcoat pocket before addressing the crowd with a smile.
“Good evening everyone. I am honoured to introduce to you our artist of the evening, the talented, beautiful – and unavailable –” He began with a wink. A cheer rang around the room, as if the whole audience was happy to hear that their next performer was attached. “Roman Mitchell!” He announced, taking a step back from the centre of the stage as another roar of applause and shouting rang out. He slowly left the stage, leaving a single spotlight illuminating a single chair at the left side of the stage.
A figure walked out of the wings and the room went silent. Jaxton looked around and found that all eyes were focused on the stage, as if they were mesmerised and unable to look away. He turned back to look at the performer and identified Roman clearly. He was wearing an old twenties style outfit, with dark trousers, a white vest and braces attached to the top of his trousers. He looked older, sophisticated and a lot more confident than he’d ever seen him before. He had on spats and a trilby dipped over his right eye.
The room erupted in wolf whistled, and he could see a ghost of a smile appearing on Roman’s lips as he heard them. It seemed he approved. As soon as the crowd saw that smile, utter silence fell over them all again, and the spotlight went dark. There were gasps and boos, until the light sparked back on to show Roman was sitting on the single chair, with his cello and a bow in his hands.
Jaxton actually felt a tingle running down his spine when he put bow to cello and began to play. It was a slow, haunting melody that cut right through his skin into his soul. It was clear he had a great talent and he had spent years honing it. He didn’t recognise the tune either, so he guessed it was something he had written himself.
When Roman slowly turned his head and looked to the stage, everyone else followed his gaze to the right wing. A figure rolled onto the stage, taking up a striking pose just three feet in from the right side of the stage. He kept his feet flat on the floor, low on his haunches with his back crouched down. He was gazing longingly at Roman, his arms stretched out in pleading. As if the only thing he had ever wanted in his whole life was Roman.
The music began building gradually and a few minutes later a sharp note broke into the melody, as if it was a cue for the second body that crashed out of the wings. The second man appeared from the left wing, crawling across the floor in a very animalistic way, until he was just a few feet from Roman. He reached out one hand, lying flat on the floor; the spotlight moved over his face, showing desire and longing even stronger than the first.
Jaxton had to admit that he was pretty mesmerised by the creativity and passion of the performance. Roman was clearly the centre of the piece and the men were longing for him with great desperation, something he suspected the cellist enjoyed. All the men were dressed like Roman, as if they were nineteen twenties gangsters from a movie. The only difference was that the dancers didn’t have a trilby or footwear, which only seemed to make their performance all the stronger; the pointed feet, the clear view of their eyes all added to their display of emotion.
The music sped up again with a second sharp note. A third man appeared, sliding across the floor on a pair of black socks that led up into his black trousers. The lights lowered perceptively and the third man made a beeline for Roman. His placed his hands on his shoulders from behind and very slowly slid them down his chest. Roman didn’t seem to mind. He kept playing seamlessly, looking up at the third man who leaned in close enough to kiss him. Then, before their lips could meet, the music stopped and the light went out.
Another gasp of surprise and disapproval escaped the captive audience. Jaxton only just held himself contained to a frown. Barely more than a heartbeat passed before the music began again slowly, starting in a faint whisper of a melody until it was accompanied by the sound of heels clicking on the stage. Everyone looked for the source of the sound.
The spotlight flashed on at the side of the stage, just behind Roman’s chair, illuminating a long female leg. Jaxton sat up in his seat, paying more attention as the leg bent at the knee, dramatically, as if the leg belonged to a dancer. The tips of the toes were the only contact with the floor, the arch perfectly curved in a high heeled stiletto with ridiculously long heels. Very slowly, the leg lifted and moved forward a step, the heel clicking yet again.
The spotlight raised over the leg, to a feminine thigh, over a short shirt to a small waist that Jaxon felt sure he could wrap his hands around. Small breasts and a bent elbow appeared a second later, eventually raising the full distance to show a young woman, posing in place. She lifted her other leg and clipped it down one foot space in front of the other, her right hand holding a top hat over her face with Fosse fingers. She was quite the image, beautiful and showing off her fragile figure with a corseted dress, leaving off in a flared mini skirt.
There were cheers from the audience the moment she was in full view.
“Now this is more like it.” Jaxton nodded to himself in approval. Thayer smiled at him at the same time as a few people from the audience shushed him.
The girl made her way, slowly, clipping and clopping elegantly towards the third man, the one standing over Roman. She lowered the hat, to show her own beautiful face, smiling a devilish smile.
“That’s his sister.” Jaxton whispered to Thayer, since he wouldn’t know anything about her. “I had the biggest crush on her in high school.” He muttered his confession so that no-one else would try to shut him up.
Thayer laughed quietly and watched the performance continue.