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He was a beautiful young man. He’d been in the games shop fronting on Madison Avenue in the Pinch district of Memphis, Tennessee, about half dozen times in the last two months. He always came at the same time, about 7:30 p.m. It was late, even in the summer, for a beautiful nineteen-year-old young man like this to be out alone, especially in the red-light district of Memphis, and Sam, the proprietor of the games shop, had asked the young man about this. That’s how he knew Ryan Reynolds was only nineteen–a really good age for the clientele Sam had on the other end of this store, the less-conspicuous enterprise opening behind this one onto Monroe Avenue.
Ryan was a race mix of white and black. But he had all the really nicest attributes of each: curly black hair, light-coffee skin, but otherwise Greek good looks and physique, small of stature for a young man his age but really, really finely honed of slim, willowy body, with a good chest and narrow waist and hips. Sam wouldn’t have had trouble guessing the young man was a dancer just by his looks and how he walked. To Sam’s experienced eyes, Ryan had submissive written all over him. He hadn’t been sure when the young man first came into the store that Ryan understood or as yet accepted where his preferences were centered, but how he acted in the store and what he wanted to look at as he became comfortable being there indicated he was at least working that out.
The young man always came to the store with a pair of ballet slippers tied together and draped over his shoulder. He obviously had an Xbox at home, because he’d gone straight for the Xbox games in the front display room of this store, which offered both video games and comic books. He’d linger at the more expensive action games, but the few times he bought anything, it would be the cheaper, $10 games.
He’d seemed a bit lonely and, over the visits, Sam had sounded him out on his circumstances, using the opening of coming in at the same time of day and always having those ballet slippers.
Sam learned that, at nineteen, Ryan was a year out of high school and was working–he worked on a tree removal crew–rather than doing any more school. He was the one who went up into the top of big, old trees they were taking down and did the rope work. The dancing lessons he been taking for some time made him flexible and dexterous enough to work up at the top of the trees. He wasn’t afraid of heights, which helped tremendously. He lived at home and he couldn’t afford more schooling. He didn’t particularly like book study anyway, and wasn’t that good at it.
He was a dancer. He lived to float across stages.
He didn’t have parents who were around in the evening. His dad, who had been black, was a long-distance truckdriver, or so Ryan had been told. He’d been at long distance for as long as Ryan could remember. Although a variety of big bruiser, muscular black men visited Ryan’s mother at their small bungalow on Court Avenue, Ryan couldn’t tell if any of them was his father or not. He could say that they were men he increasingly fantasized about himself, though, as he matured into having his own sexual urges. There had never even been a mention of a marriage between his mother and any of these men.
His white mom was a ballet instructor at the nearby Ballet Memphis, on Madison Avenue, south of Overton Park. Not having anyone to take care of Ryan when he was younger meant she brought him to the dance studio with her. It had been natural that he joined the classes himself, and he had the right body and talent to be a male dancer. Her position made his tuition free.
She taught there in the evening, arriving as Ryan’s late-afternoon ballet class was letting out, and she and Ryan ate dinner near the theater before he came back to the Pinch District area and she started her evening classes. Ryan would be in bed when she got home, but she often didn’t come home alone. Often in the morning, when Ryan got up, there would be a muscular black man, half naked, sitting at their kitchen counter, drinking coffee. His mother was particularly drawn to black men. In time, so was Ryan. Ryan looked forward to those mornings, as seeing these men got him horny. This is how he’d gotten clued in that he liked men. He hadn’t done anything about that yet, though. The men who came to his house were sniffing around his mother, not him.
Ryan and his mother lived not far from Sam’s games shop, which was between where Ryan was taking ballet lessons as part of his mother’s compensation package and where the Reynolds lived.
Once Ryan had gotten comfortable with Sam, a big black bruiser like those who visited his mother, their limited small talk while Ryan was perusing the games and comics in the front room of the store became freer and more open and Sam sensed that Ryan’s interests in coming here went further than video games. Evidently, someone had told the young man about the room behind the front display room, which was another display room. Back there was an adult bookstore that also Ankara escort had more racy video games–specializing in gay ones.
With each successive visit by Ryan, Sam got stronger vibes that Ryan was interested in men. Sam most definitely was interested in Ryan. He was a delicious little piece. The ballet shoes also fed Sam’s greater interests as well as the more expansive games shop business in the building that ran from Madison Avenue back to Monroe. Behind this front showroom was the adult section showroom. But behind that was an area of peep show booths and then a couple of dressing rooms that could, for a price, also be undressing rooms. Then, discreetly fronting on Monroe, was a gay porn theater, with a stage set up for stripping and pole dancing.
Ryan, all grace, beauty, and willowy body and moving around the games store with ballet slippers draped off his shoulder, had given Sam an idea–and hopes. To liven up the porn movies, he occasionally brought in a stripper or pole dancer. Sam hired male dancers. Sam also fucked male dancers.
The guys who came to the movie house liked them young–the younger the better, although they didn’t want to get into trouble. Nineteen was a perfect age for them–they were developing into the bodies of men and the interests, uncertainties, and speculation about their sexuality, but they were still malleable, flexible, and more curious than wise. From the second time Ryan appeared in the store, Sam started cultivating the young man, with the hope and plan to put him on the stage in the movie house and maybe even more.
Sam wanted to fuck Ryan. There was an innocence and purity about Ryan that Sam wanted to debauch.
From the second time Ryan was in the store he increasingly showed interest in what was behind the beaded curtain doorway that led into the adult section of the store. On the third visit, Sam invited him to go back and take a look. On the fourth visit, he gave Ryan some freebee time in the peep show booths. Ryan stayed in the booth as long as Sam let him. By the end of that visit, Sam knew that Ryan was interested in men. He didn’t know if Ryan had done it with men, but he’d be just as happy if Ryan hadn’t yet. He was most interested, of course, if Ryan would do it for men, starting with dancing the pole for them. And he most certainly was interested if Ryan would do it with him.
* * * *
“I might have a deal for you. You might even have been thinking about wanting to do it yourself.”
Sam had come up to where Ryan was looking, while sort of trying not to show he was looking, at an animated gay pornographic comic book in the adult section of the games store. Sam had let Ryan pass into the room fifteen minutes earlier after the young man had looked at the Xbox games in the first showroom. Sam had watched what games Ryan looked at and he had one of them–a new, expensive one, “Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice”–in his hand. Also in the hand was a small, shiny red-silk jock strap.
“A deal for me?” Ryan asked. His eyes went to the game box. He took in the jock strap too, but it was sort of bunched up and he didn’t appear to have any idea what it was. He certainly didn’t act as if it was threatening in any way.
“You’re always coming in with those ballet slippers hanging over your shoulder. And you’ve said you stop in here after dance classes. Have you had a lot of dance classes, Ryan?”
“I’ve been taking dance since I was five,” the young man said. “My mother’s a teacher at the school. It’s something we can do together.”
“You do it at the same time?”
“Well, no, not usually. When there are productions we’re together. There aren’t many male dancers. They always need me. But usually my classes are in the late afternoon, after work. My mother teaches classes in the evening.”
“So, she’s not around in the evening.”
“No, not usually.”
“And you’re free then to do what you like?”
“Yes. It used to be that she’d check up on me in the evening, make sure I was home and doing homework and stuff. But she’s loosened up since I got out of school and gotten older. The evening’s when I like to play with the Xbox games, though so I don’t go out much, or anything.”
“But you like it too, don’t you? Dancing, and being in productions?”
“Yeah, I like dancing. It’s something I can do, and do well, that other guys aren’t doing. But I’m also into sports,” he said, somewhat defensively. “I played soccer and basketball at school and was on the swim team. The dancing helped me with those. I play pickup ball still when I can. I like moving around at the top of trees, high off the ground too. Maybe I’d be in the circus if there was one around here.”
“Yes, I can see you’ve got a good body, Ryan. A great body. And I can understand where dancing would make you really flexible and fast with the reflexes. Do you just do ballet, or do you do other dancing too? Modern dancing?”
“Yeah. Modern and tap, everything. My mother makes sure I can do more than ballet.”
“Do Ankara escort bayan you use a pole ever when you dance?” Ryan moved to a slightly guarded look. “It’s OK if you do,” Sam quickly added. “You’ve looked at some of the magazines in this room. You see that it has some of the guys dancing on a pole. They have great bodies, just like you do. Have you ever thought about–?”
“Yeah, I do dancing like that,” Ryan broke in. “Not at the dance school, but I was looking at these magazines and at a couple of the films you let me see in booths. I thought I could do dancing like that–so I’ve tried it out. Without the pole, of course… at home when I’m alone. We do have a pole holding up a beam in the basement at the house. It’s thicker than the ones I see in the videos. But I’ve been using that to practice. I think I’ve got the moves down pretty well. I think I could do it fine on a thinner pole.”
“Would you like to have an audience for it?”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked. His eyes got big when Sam switched the game box to under his other arm and shook out the red-silk jock strap. He let it drape down from his fingers.
“You know what this is, Ryan?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, hesitantly. “It’s pretty skimpy, though.”
“It would look great on a finely honed body–one like yours. You ever worn something like this when you were practicing dancing the pole?”
“Well, I do it with just my briefs on–nothing that skimpy.”
“But you’d like to dance in this. It would be like the costumes you dance in for your mom’s productions.”
“Well, it’s like what I’d wear under the costume.”
“But you’ve thought of how much freer your movements would be–how much better your muscle definitions could be seen just in something like this, right?”
“I guess so.” Sam could see the young man’s hand brush his crotch, like it was getting tight down there. The man hoped that was what the effect of this discussion was.
“You’d look really good dancing the pole in this, Ryan?”
“I would?”
“Absolutely. We have a theater back beyond the area with the film booths. It’s got a stage and a pole and all. And a sound system. We could play some background music for you. You could wear this. There are guys back there now. They’re watching a movie, but I know they’d like to see you dance–like you’ve seen in the magazines here and in the movies you’ve looked at in the booths. You could try it out to see if you liked it. You’re a really good-looking guy”–Sam was avoiding calling him a young man, but that, in fact, would be his biggest attraction to the guys in the theater–“and I think with a great little body like yours, the guys would really like to see you dance. You’ve thought about doing it. I know you have.”
“Just wearing that?”
“Yes, just wearing this. And not wearing this when you comfortable with that.”
“Naked?”
“Yes, naked, Ryan. Like the guys you see in the peep show films. You’ve danced the pole in your basement, haven’t you? I know you have.”
Ryan’s blush and failure to verbalize an answer confirmed that.
“You’d look as good as any of those,” Sam continued. “The men would love watching you dance the pole–just like you like to watch what men do in these peep show videos. They’d send money up to the stage, I’ll bet, and you could afford those Xbox games you’ve been looking at.”
“Like that one in your hand?” Ryan asked.
“Not this one, Ryan. You wouldn’t have to pay for this one. I brought this one here because I saw you looking at it–not just today, but the last couple of times you were in here. You could have this one if you wore just this jock strap and you danced for the men for fifteen minutes. You dance for free in your mom’s productions and in your basement. Here you’d be paid and men would watch and admire you.”
“Fifteen minutes? On a stage, with a pole? Now?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, now. I think you’ve been thinking of doing this in front of guys. You’ve put all of this work into your dancing. I think you want to show it off–and to guys who can think about you like you think about those guys on the poles in the magazines and the movies I’ve shown you. Don’t fight it, Ryan. I’ve watched you. It’s what you want. Follow your natural wants. Dance for the men.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“You’ve looked at other, more expensive Xbox games in the other room. I’ve seen you do it. I’ve seen you look at ‘Bless Unleashed: Ultimate Founders,’ for instance. I’ll give you that one too–the two Xbox games–if you put this on and dance the pole for the guys in the theater. Fifteen minutes. Two expensive Xbox games for fifteen minutes of dancing. You do it once and if you don’t like it, you wouldn’t have to do it ever again and you’d still have these games. You’d be working a paying job.”
“I guess maybe I could.”
“But you’d have to slip the jock off for a couple of minutes at the end.”
“Get naked, on stage. For both of those games?”
“Yes. I think you Escort Ankara want to get naked for men, Ryan. You’ve developed a great body. I think you want men to see it and admire it.” This was going down better than Sam expected, so he pushed it.
“And then you could dance just for me, Ryan. We get along good. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think I can help you get to where you’ve been dreaming to go.”
Sam had been saving this card. He knew the young man pined for him–that Ryan kept coming to the store as much to be with a big, black dude as to look at the games. Sam was banking on Ryan wanting him so bad that he’d lay down and open his legs to him. The young man had told Sam of the black bruisers who visited his mother and revealed, whether he meant to or not, how they turned him on. Sam was just such a black stud and he was attracted to Ryan as much as Ryan could possibly be attracted to him.
“Just for you? Just you and me? Dancing?”
“That and more, Ryan, if you want… when you’re ready. Have you ever been with a black man?”
“No,” Ryan whispered.
“But you’ve been thinking of it, haven’t you? A lot.”
Ryan didn’t answer.
Sam took the young man’s hand and moved it to his crotch. Ryan didn’t take it away. Sam unzipped himself and moved Ryan’s hand inside his fly. Ryan didn’t take the hand away then either. “Maybe you’d like to pick out a third game yourself,” Sam said.
* * * *
Ryan danced for about twenty guys in the theater just wearing the red-silk jock strap. The performance had been a surprise appearance, so, although the men in the theater were quite enthusiastic–QUITE enthusiastic–to see Ryan’s dance, there wasn’t much tip money. They hadn’t brought much money to spare. They were making a lot of cell phone calls, though, in addition to taking cell phone photos, applauding, reigning wolf whistles down on the young man, and otherwise letting him know they were impressed. The noise level doubled when, near the end of the dance, the jock strap came off, the spotlight zeroed in on the totally revealed delicious body for two seconds, and then the lights went out.
Sam was there, at the beaded-curtain entrance to the backstage, when Ryan came off the platform, the jock strap hang from a wrist. Sam had four Xbox games under his arm. Ryan had gotten to pick one of them out himself.
“They loved you, kid,” Sam said. “But it was a surprise you were going to dance. Did you see them making calls on their phones? If you take a break and go back on in a half hour, I think you’ll find the theater packed and they will have brought tip money.”
“Another dance?” Ryan asked. He was flushed. The dancing he’d done had been exhilarating. He’d never felt so free and so much the focus of attention. This was much more attention his dancing had gotten than the recitals and musicals he’d been in in the Ballet Memphis.
“I’d add another game. I brought ‘Red Dead Redemption 2.’ I know you’ve looked at that.”
“Sure, why not?” Ryan said, all smiles. He would have gone back on without an incentive. The reception had been exhilarating. He’d never been in the spotlight, the focus of attention, like that before.
Sam had been right. The theater was packed when Ryan went out to dance again. It was a small theater, but there were well over fifty men in the audience now. And they’d brought money. Sam had been out there, talking to the men while Ryan was on break, spending his time looking over the game boxes Sam had given him. Before he went on again, Sam told him that if he left the pole a couple of times and came over to the front of the stage, there’d be men who would put money in the waistband of the jock strap. Ryan could have half of what the men gave him. Sam, of course, would take the rest for having set all of this up.
“When they put the money in your band, most of them will want to feel you up too. That’ll be OK with you, won’t it? You’ll find you like that.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And I think we won’t turn off the lights so quickly at the end this time. OK?”
“OK, fine.”
And they did feel him up, and he did like it, although he was embarrassed that it made him go hard. They seemed to like that just fine, though.
Ryan was backstage, just inside the beaded curtains covering the doorway into the dressing room area, counting the money he’d pulled out of his waistband and off the floor when Sam came to him.
“There are some guys here who will pay you–us–big bucks if you’ll let them… you know.”
“Let them what?”
“They want to fuck you.”
“Fuck me… I’ve never–“
“On stage, with the others watching.”
“Shit.”
“I know you want to do it, Ryan. That you’ve been working up to doing it, not just looking at magazines and movies. We’ve talked. I know you haven’t said outright… but I know what you want. I think you want it from me. You do this and we’ll see.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“The opportunity is now. It’s great if you’ve never done it before. There’s a guy here who’ll pay $250 if you haven’t. And a couple of other guys who will pay $100 each for seconds. That would be $225 to you… easy money, on top of the tips for dancing the pole, and it would get you beyond whatever barrier there’s been to what you want–what I know you want.”
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