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6
Jase
Our second shoot for the catalogue was later today, which was why I found myself locked in my bedroom, watching fucking Magic Mike.
I was shut up in my room because the last thing I needed was for Chad and Barren, my two roommates, to get wind that I was watching this. No matter what my reason was, I would get clowned about it for life. Actually, I had a good reason for watching this cheesy-ass movie: research. The set of today’s shoot was a titty bar—I mean, a strip club. One of the authors had a brother who owned a little joint in the Tenderloin area and we’d been given access to it for a few hours.
As the oiled-up, thong-wearing dudes danced around on the screen, I let my mind wander to Kelendria.
What kind of outfit would she be wearing for the strip club theme?
Another skimpy bra and panty set like the orange bikini?
Whatever she wore, I already knew she was going to look smoking hot in it. Let’s just hope this time I could keep my dick under control.
I left the house at four o’clock and took the BART over to Tenderloin.
Heaven’s Gates Gentlemen Club was a lot nicer than the hole-in-the-wall I was expecting. It was a medium-sized, all-black building with a professional-looking exterior and a black and lime green color scheme. The sign on the door said it opened at 10 p.m. and closed at 6 a.m., so this shoot likely wouldn’t be that long. Leonard jogged up just as I was about to knock on the door.
“It’s open,” he huffed, sounding out of breath.
Entering the bar, I took in my surroundings. It was your run-of-the-mill strip club, except it was cleaner and didn’t smell of sweat and unfulfilled fantasies.
Round tables with chairs hanging upside down from them dotted the area around the stage, leaving very little walking room. The stage itself was pretty unique. It was made in the shape of a T. The shorter end had two gleaming silver poles, one at each end. The longer part of the T jutted out into the table area and had a lone pole perched at the very end of it. I imagined the hottest girl on the club’s roster sashaying seductively up to that pole, putting her front and center, where she would give the performance of her life.
My fantasy was interrupted by a stiff voice saying, “Hello, Leonard.”
Turning, my eyes landed on two men. One of them was Leonard and the other I didn’t know.
“Jordan, hey, man!” Leonard exclaimed, holding out his hand. “How are you?”
“Fine, thank you,” the man replied in that same stiff voice. I took one look at him in his pressed slacks, button up shirt with the sleeves precisely rolled up and cardigan tied loosely over his shoulders, and knew that the word stiff described him perfectly.
For a second, Leonard looked put off by his dry response but quickly recovered.
“Have you met your model, Jase?” he asked the man.
‘His’ model?
Their attention shifted to me, and surprisingly, the pinched expression disappeared from the man’s face. He closed the short distance between us and held out his hand.
“Hi. I’m Jordan Monét, one of the authors in the boxed set. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a firm handshake.
“So, are you ready to go all Magic Mike for this shoot?” he joked, drawing a laugh from Leonard. It was hard to reconcile that minutes ago this dude seemed uptight and stiff and now he was being super friendly to me.
“Oh, yeah. I’m ready.” I didn’t sound half as confident as I tried to.
Jordan smiled, motioning a hand.
“Follow me and I’ll take you back to the changing area. We don’t have use of the club very long, so we have to make the most of the time.”
I followed him to a hallway situated behind the bar. Bright lights illuminated the area and I counted eight closed doors.
“It was cool of your brother to let us use this place,” I commented.
“It was the least he could do in return for me doing his taxes for this place for the last ten years,” Jordan replied. And just like that, the stiffness was back in his tone. “I’m an accountant by day and a BDSM interracial author by night—under my pen name, of course.”
