Červenà

Chapter
Three


THE NEXT month flew by. It was three weeks before Christmas, and Prague’s streets were crowded with shoppers looking for gifts. The club was as busy as ever, and Sasha had become one of the most popular dancers. His tips from the podium equaled Tomáš’s, and his confidence had increased in leaps and bounds. He continued to avoid lap dancing, despite numerous requests for him from the public.

Karel hadn’t been keen on Sasha in the beginning, and had scoffed about him being “too prudish” to give private dances. That night Karel’s dislike of Sasha only increased. As I sat at the bar nursing a beer, I noticed Karel approach Sasha by the door that led into the corridor. They were too far away, and the music and crowd too loud for me to hear their brief conversation, but I didn’t miss Karel’s leer or the way he placed one hand possessively on Sasha’s hip.

I abandoned my drink and headed toward them. Karel hadn’t noticed me and leaned in closer, but Sasha sidled away from him, a scowl on his face. He raised one hand and jabbed a finger toward Karel’s chest. Closer now, I picked up Sasha’s exclamation in Russian.

“Fucking tease,” Karel responded, taking a step back.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded. “Sasha?”

Karel muttered something as he walked away, and Sasha gave me a nervous smile. “He, um, he made a pass at me.”

“I saw. Are you okay? Karel can be pushy.” I frowned in concern. It should have occurred to me that Karel would make a move. He made passes at all the dancers at some point. The only surprise was that he’d taken so long to do it with Sasha.

“I’m okay. I told him to fuck off. Shame he doesn’t speak Russian. He probably didn’t get it.” Sasha’s smile became more genuine and his eyes twinkled.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he got it. He doesn’t like rejection, so he probably won’t bother you again, but let me know if he does.” I made my way back to the bar, where Karel was waiting for a drink, gesturing impatiently at Kris.

“Karel.” I scowled as he turned to look at me.

“What?”

“Leave Sasha alone.”

“Why?” Karel’s lips twitched up at the corners. “You’ve had a month to make your move, but you haven’t tried.”

“I don’t plan to. But I don’t want you messing with him. He’s a sweet boy. He’s not used to all this.”

Karel laughed. “He’s not a boy, Joel, he’s a man. Perfectly capable of saying no if he wants to. Which he did, by the way. So you needn’t worry. I don’t sniff around the same piece of ass twice if I don’t get anywhere the first time. He’s still available for you. But I wouldn’t wait forever.”

My face warmed, and I was grateful for the dimness and colored lights in the club to disguise my discomfort. I did want Sasha, and again I asked myself why I kept my distance. Maybe because I feared he would say no to me as he had to Karel. But my determination to keep away from Sasha diminished every time I saw him.

During the past few weeks I’d learned a little more about him, although there was never much opportunity to talk to him alone. When I was at the club, the boys were dancing, or in the dressing room, changing and gossiping. I was reluctant to hang around and make it obvious to the others that I liked him. I’d caught his eyes on me a few times, but I didn’t think it meant anything.

I turned away as the next dancer climbed up onto the podium. We’d taken on another new one to replace Bohdan as we’d intended to increase the numbers to six. Gabriel was a local boy, only nineteen, but he knew exactly what he wanted to achieve. He’d graduated high school and wanted to go to medical school, but his parents were poor and couldn’t afford the fees. He intended to spend a year dancing and saving his tips the way Bohdan had done. Then he’d start school and continue dancing part-time if we’d allow it. Impressed by his plan, I’d agreed immediately. We could always take on another part-time dancer later if need be. I watched Gabriel’s dance and finished my beer. Sasha had another performance coming up, and I waited impatiently as always, eager to watch his sensual moves and imagine he was dancing only for me. Karel paid him no more attention, much to my relief.




A FEW days later, on Saturday night, I learned that the looks Sasha gave me did mean something, after all. Since Karel hit on him, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the less important all those reasons seemed. Just because it hadn’t worked out with Phillippe, didn’t mean it wouldn’t with Sasha. Assuming he even liked me that way.

The club was due to close, and Tomáš, Gabriel, and Marek had come downstairs after finishing their final lap dances. They passed me on their way to the dressing room, gleefully counting their tips. I continued to the kitchen to make sure everything was switched off and locked up. When I heard footsteps behind me, I glanced over my shoulder. Sasha halted in the doorway and leaned against the jamb. He’d changed into jeans and a sweater and held a roll of money in one hand.

“Um, hi. I was hoping to borrow some milk for the morning. I ran out, and I like my coffee when I wake up. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”

“Help yourself.” I smiled and gestured to the fridge. I leaned against the counter as he took a carton of milk. My heart thumped faster as it did every time I was anywhere near him. After a month I’d have thought I’d be able to stop acting like a teenager with a crush, but my longing for him had only increased.

I wondered what his answer would be if I asked him on a date the way I’d thought of doing a hundred times. I imagined trying to sound casual as I blurted out what was in my head: “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?” Would it really be so bad if I tried dating him? My excuses about the age difference, Sasha perhaps feeling obligated to say yes, and my previous failed relationship with a dancer had worn thin. Sasha wasn’t a child. He’d be twenty-one in a few weeks and was perfectly capable of making his own decisions. As long as I could control my jealousy when he was on the podium, it could all be fine. Then again, it was more likely he wasn’t interested in me in the slightest and would say no. Too long on my own had made me think I wasn’t much of a catch.

“Yes. That would be great. Thank you for asking.”

“Huh?” My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut.

“I said yes, thank you. I’d like to go to dinner.”

Fuck, I said it out loud. It took me a moment to register that he’d accepted my invitation. I blinked and pulled myself together. “Good. What type of food do you like?”

“Anything is fine. Why don’t you choose what you like?”

“All right. Italian, then. We’ll go to my favorite restaurant. Do you have something smart but casual to wear? A shirt and pants?”

“Yes.” Sasha nodded and smiled.

“I’ll meet you here at seven.” I shouldn’t have been so excited over a dinner date. Although I’d known him a month, I knew very little about him. But the evening would be an opportunity to learn and I couldn’t wait.




I TELEPHONED the restaurant as soon as they opened for lunch the next day, and booked a table for the evening. I ate there so often they always squeezed me in if I went alone, but I wanted to ensure I’d have a decent table this time. With that done, I spent my Sunday afternoon the same way I always did, but I was impatient for the time to pass. I checked my watch over and over, and rather than relax and read, I paced. When five o’clock arrived, I took a long shower, shaved, trimmed my chest hair and pubic region, and sprayed on my favorite cologne. I chose to wear a simple gray suit with an open-necked white shirt. I’d managed to pick up a fairly decent tan over the summer months and a hint of it still lingered on my skin. I thought I looked good, with my dark blond hair cut a couple of days before and my eyebrows plucked to ensure there were no stray hairs in the middle. I wasn’t a vain man—certainly not as vain as Karel—but I liked to make an effort when I went on a date.

At six thirty I put on my overcoat and a scarf and gloves, and set off on foot. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and I knew my leg wouldn’t like it, but it was my habit to walk. I kept close to the buildings, avoiding the usual bustle of people on the sidewalk. The weather rarely made a difference to the number of people on the streets. By the time I reached the club, I was limping slightly and trying to ignore the twinges of pain above my knee. It would settle down as soon as I sat in a warm room.

Sasha was waiting outside the club, even though I was ten minutes early. A green shirt collar, a similar shade to his eyes, peeked out from beneath his black suede jacket. Black pants and shiny shoes completed his outfit. He looked stunning and I beamed inanely as I walked toward him. We greeted each other and I suggested we walk to the restaurant, which was less than half a mile from the club. What was another ten minutes to my already uncomfortable leg?

“I didn’t tell the others what I’m doing,” Sasha told me as we walked side by side.

“Ashamed of me?” I teased.

“Oh no! Of course not. I meant, I thought they might tease me or be jealous or something. Having dinner with the boss.”

“I doubt they’d be jealous.” I winced as my leg throbbed more insistently.

“Is your leg hurt? I’ve noticed you limping a few times.”

“I had a motorcycle accident some years ago and broke it in three places. I had one of those metal cages on it for months. At one point I thought I’d lose it.”

“That’s horrible! But it still hurts?”

“The cold, damp weather makes it ache sometimes, but exercise usually helps. I can handle an ache and a limp. At least I’ve still got two legs.”

“I broke my arm once,” Sasha revealed. “Actually someone broke it. Before I left Kaliningrad. They hate gays there. I knew another boy the same as me and he was terrified of being discovered. That’s why I came here. I heard it was much more accepting. I traveled through Poland and stopped here and there to get what work I could. I stayed in Wroclaw for almost a year, but I wasn’t happy there.”

“You weren’t happy here either when I met you,” I reminded him.

“No, but things are much better now. I’ve only been here a month, but it seems longer. I’m so grateful—”

“That’s not why you agreed to have dinner, is it?” My heart sank.

“No.” He glanced sideways at me and smiled. “I accepted because I like you.”

I smiled back at him, relieved. We walked in companionable silence for the remainder of the short journey, turning off the main street onto a narrower, less busy sidewalk. As we passed the doorway of a gift store, its windows dark and shuttered, Sasha halted suddenly. A huddled shape indicated one of the city’s many homeless, sheltering as best they could from the elements. Sasha pulled out his wallet and crouched to give the beggar a note, making me cringe inwardly at my usual lack of notice of these people. Sasha had been like that not so long ago. As Sasha straightened, I removed some money from my wallet too, and handed it to the astonished young man. He gazed up at us in wonder, a smile stretching his thin lips.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Take care,” Sasha told him before we walked on.

When we reached the restaurant, one of the waiters led us upstairs to our table. We’d been given one of their best spots by the window with a view of the river. The two chairs were positioned at angles to one another at the round table, so both almost faced the window. Sasha sat to my left, and I stretched out my right leg and gave it a rub while I selected one of my favorite wines from the menu.

“You do like wine?” I asked when the waiter had gone to fetch it. I hadn’t bothered to check with Sasha first and I mentally kicked myself.

“I think so. I only tried it once with my parents, a few years ago at Christmas.”

“I ordered a red—warm, rich, and fruity. If you don’t like it, you can choose something else.”

When the waiter returned I asked him to pour a taster for Sasha first. Sasha tried a sip and nodded. “It’s very nice.”

With our glasses filled, we read the menus, which were written in Italian, Czech, and English. We chose antipasti to share, followed by beef cannelloni for Sasha and spinach tortellini for me, with sides of garlic bread and salad.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never been to a restaurant?” Sasha glanced up through lowered lashes. He looked coy and sexy, although I doubted it was intentional.

“Didn’t your parents take you out when you were a kid?”

“No. They didn’t have much money. They rarely went anywhere. A few times they went out for the evening, but Elena was a baby then, and I had to stay home to watch her.”

“Your parents left a child looking after a baby?” I remembered he’d said his sister was twelve, so he couldn’t have been more than ten years old when she was a baby.

“Yes. At first my grandmother came to sit with us, but she was frail, and it became too much for her.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It made me feel grown-up.”

“Are you able to keep in touch with Elena?”

“No. When my parents kicked me out, they said if I tried to contact her, they’d tell her what a hateful person I was. The story was that I was going away to school and would be too busy to keep in touch. I’m sure she must ask questions, but I’d rather that than have her hate me.”

“I’m so sorry.” I wished I hadn’t asked. Sasha put his fork down and reached for his wineglass instead. He drew his brows together in a frown as he sipped the wine. I reached for his free hand where it lay on the table and gave it a squeeze. He returned the pressure, and when he didn’t seem inclined to let go, I laced our fingers together and lowered our joined hands to rest on my thigh.

“It’s okay. I like to talk about her, even though it makes me sad. She’s a beautiful little girl, and smart too. She was top of her class in school in all her subjects, and she was learning to play the piano. Maybe I’ll see her again one day, when she’s old enough to make her own decisions. Tell me about your family.”

I finished chewing a mouthful of pasta and took a sip of wine before I began. I told him about my childhood, growing up with Rosalyn and how we’d hated each other as kids. Rosalyn had always been closer to Mum, while I’d been my father’s son. Dad had died when I was seventeen, and the three of us had become closer then. I came out shortly after, and there’d never been any question of Mum’s support. Rosalyn had accepted it as casually as if I’d told her I had a new shirt, but she’d been too young to understand prejudice. I’d been lucky in comparison to Sasha.

“Rosalyn got married when she was twenty-two,” I continued. “She was already pregnant with Rachael, but they’d planned to marry anyway. Steve’s great. He’s my age and is an assistant head teacher at Rachael’s school. He earns enough that Rosalyn doesn’t have to work, but she has a little Internet business, selling homemade crafts.”

“Why did you leave England, if you’re so close with your family?” Sasha began eating again, although he didn’t break our contact and ate with only his fork in his left hand.

“I came to Prague for a long weekend with some friends. I wasn’t much older than you are now. The plan for the weekend was to get drunk and spend every minute partying and picking up girls, or boys, whatever. Everything is much cheaper here than in London. After two days I was bored, so I sobered up and did some sightseeing. I went into a bar for lunch and Karel was there. He’d been stood up by his date.”

Sasha laughed at this. “I’m sure he wasn’t happy about that.”

“No, he slammed his glass down on the bar and demanded another drink. I’ll talk to anyone given an incentive, so I asked him what was wrong. We got talking and had lunch together.”

“You hooked up with him?”

“Hell, no! Karel and me? We’re not each other’s type. Not at all.”

“You’re both tops.” Sasha grinned and shoveled more food into his mouth.

“Um, yeah.” I chuckled. “We talked about business. He wanted his own bar but didn’t have the money. It made me think about what I wanted to do with my life. I was sick of working for other people, and I wondered if I could do something in Prague where it was easier to get started. Cheaper, I mean.”

“So you set up Červenà with Karel?”

“No, not then. I looked at property. After my father died, he left a decent amount of money for Rosalyn and me. I bought a block of condos. I had to get a mortgage to help with that, but not a huge one. I rented out all the apartments except the penthouse which I live in. Most of the people who rent from me are foreign businessmen—British, German, Swedish. It wasn’t my intention to do that, but they were the ones who came to me first.

“I moved here almost immediately after I bought the building. I kept in touch with Karel and we became friends. A few years later I’d paid off my mortgage and had money aside, and he’d saved, so we decided to buy the club. It had been an old restaurant that went out of business, and the building was empty.

“It took us a year to turn it into what it is now and another year for it to make a profit, but now… well, you’ve seen how popular it is. People come from all over Europe.”

“You must be really happy things have gone so well.”

“Yes.” I reluctantly released his hand as the waiter arrived to take our empty plates and give us dessert menus. “Would you like dessert?”

“Maybe something light. I’m getting full.”

“Gelato?” I suggested.

We opted for a large dish of assorted flavors—vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and hazelnut—and two spoons. Sharing the dessert prompted us to lean closer together, and I glanced at Sasha’s mouth, imagining kissing him. The evening was going well and suddenly I couldn’t wait for us to be alone.

When the gelato was gone the waiter returned to ask if we’d like coffee, but I refused and requested the bill. We could have coffee in the club’s kitchen, away from prying eyes. I decided against inviting Sasha home, not wanting him to think I expected anything from him.

I paid the bill in cash and left a generous tip. Sasha glanced at the total on the slip of paper and his eyes widened in shock before he turned away to put on his jacket. I got to my feet, relieved when my leg gave no protest. It would probably begin to ache as soon as we went out in the cold again. I put on my overcoat and guided Sasha down the stairs, resting my hand in the small of his back. He walked close to me, and I caught his hand in mine again as we set off on the short walk back to the club.

“Thank you for dinner.” Sasha spoke softly as we walked.

“My pleasure. Thank you for coming out with me.”

“I hoped you’d ask.”

My heart quickened its pace. “Really? Well, you could have asked, you know.”

“Ask the boss on a date?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have dared. I’ve never asked anybody out. Never been asked out either, not properly. I kept to myself a lot. Most of the time, what happened to me back home made me fear letting anyone know I’m gay in case I ran into trouble again.”

“You’ve never done this?”

“No. Before I left Kaliningrad, I fooled around a little with one boy, but it was hardly anything. Then… well you saw me that night outside Červenà. Who’d want me like that?” He pulled his hand free and shoved it into his pocket. “Does that put you off? That I haven’t done anything?”

“No, it doesn’t put me off. The opposite.” It also made me decide to put a rein on my desire for him. I’d imagined sharing coffee in the kitchen and maybe heading up to his studio. I doubted we’d have fucked, but maybe something would have happened that involved getting naked. But he was a virgin, and I wanted to take my time. I felt protective of him, more so than I had previously.

We went in through the side entrance of the club, and once inside I unlocked the door to the lower corridor. The dancers only had access to the stairs leading up to their studios when the club was closed. Karel and I had always kept the corridor locked up to ensure the offices and the club itself were secured and separate from the accommodation.

“I thought we’d have coffee here.” I led him to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Sasha removed his jacket again and leaned against the counter. I took off my outdoor gear and set the kettle to boil. Sasha watched in silence, his gaze seeming to follow my every move. Closing the small gap between us, I stood in front of him. He lifted his chin just enough to make eye contact. His eyes were stunning up close. The dark green irises had lighter flecks, and the pupils were slightly enlarged. Long black lashes framed them, and he lowered them to half cover his eyes as I stared.

Leaning in, I lightly touched my lips to his. I paused for a second, angled my head a little, and covered his mouth more firmly. He parted his lips and caressed mine in response, inviting me in. Sliding my tongue between his lips, I tasted him and gradually deepened the kiss. He responded to every caress, thrusting his tongue against mine and crushing our lips together. Lifting my hands to his waist, I pressed my body against his. His erection nudged against mine and he whimpered, slipping his arms up around my neck to stroke his fingers through the short hair at my nape.

My cock throbbed impatiently. As determined as I’d been to take things slowly, I couldn’t help myself. I longed to touch him. I moved my foot in between Sasha’s and nudged his leg with my knee, encouraging him to shuffle his feet farther apart. Maneuvering my legs between his, I pushed my lower body harder against him and rubbed our groins together.

Sasha slipped one hand inside the collar of my shirt, his palm cool on my warm skin. I imagined how it would feel on my dick, and I was forced to tear my mouth from his to gasp for breath. A shudder ran through my body and I took my hands off him just long enough to shrug out of my suit jacket and toss it somewhere behind me. He tucked his face into my neck and I felt his warm breath on my throat. He flicked open a shirt button and stroked his fingers through my freshly trimmed chest hair. I groaned and turned my head to breathe in his ear and nip gently at the lobe. His body shivered against mine and I continued the assault on his ear, biting a little harder and caressing the shell with the tip of my tongue.

Sasha muttered something in Russian and unfastened another shirt button. He slid his hand farther inside and stroked his thumb over my nipple. My aching cock throbbed against the length of his, and I almost forgot what he’d told me—that he’d done virtually nothing with another man. I was desperate to feel his flesh against mine.

I unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling with the buttons in my eagerness. His heart thudded under my hand as I stroked his chest, and I paused to pinch one nipple between finger and thumb. It stiffened in response and Sasha rolled his head back, arching his neck to give me access to his throat. I bent to place a kiss under his chin and continued to a spot beneath his ear, making him shiver. I slid my other hand between us and unfastened his pants. When I brushed my thumb over the damp fabric covering the head of his cock, he moaned loudly and his hands stilled on my chest.

“Joel….” The sound of my name on his lips urged me on. I cupped his erection and rubbed it firmly with my palm, while I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock free. The head was slick and wet, my foreskin partly rolled back. I let go of Sasha for a moment while I lowered his underwear, then captured his shaft in my hand, pressing it firmly against mine.

Sasha shuddered under my touch and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. He was breathless and trembling, his cock throbbing. I looked down, wanting to see. His foreskin had rolled back to expose the swollen purple head. Precome leaked from him and a droplet trickled down his shaft to my fingers. I stroked us together, slowly and firmly, my legs shaking and my balls drawing up against my body. Sasha clutched at me, fingers digging into my chest and shoulder. His chest heaved as he panted for breath and his cock pulsed in my hand.

“Fuck,” he hissed in English. He spilled over my fingers and the head of my dick, some of his fluid shooting onto the front of my pants. Ignoring the mess on the expensive fabric, I released him and pressed my lips lightly to his. Then I tightened my grip on my shaft and jerked myself to completion in three more strokes. My hand and my pants caught most of it, with a few spots landing on Sasha’s thigh. Panting, I grabbed a dish towel to wipe my hands and scrub at my pants. My suit would have to go to the dry cleaners. God knows what they would think. I passed the towel to Sasha and took a step away from him to straighten my clothing. He wiped himself, chuckling.

I took the towel from Sasha and tossed it into the sink, reminding myself to deal with it before I left for the night. When Sasha had tucked himself away, I reached for him and pulled him back into my arms.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen; not yet.” I kissed his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hell, yes.” He laughed into my neck and hugged me tighter. I stroked his hair, noting how it felt like silk on top but dampened with sweat at his neck. He felt so good in my arms and I wished I’d made this move when I’d first considered it. But better late than never. It was just the first step, and I hoped there would be much more to come.