He ran a hand across his muscular chest with its thin coat of hair and gave the crowd a sultry look. With Joel’s red beard, blue eyes, and white smile, patrons flocked to his platform. His ginger looks set him apart from the other dancers, the majority of whom had dark features. Management expressed their gratitude to Joel, whose presence had helped the City gain his prominence in a competitive environment like Manhattan. The club had been open less than three months and it was already one of the most popular gay bars in New York City. They came here to see him or one of the other dick dancers here at the City. The guy would be upset but he wouldn’t leave. If they did, Joel would slap their hand away. Sometimes he would give them a brief flash of what glory lay beneath the gauzy material so they could see it was all real, but too often someone wanted more than a peek. He had to be careful since some of them tried to grab his cock or his ass. The darkness helped him avoid eye contact with his worshipers holding up dollar bills and larger currency in their hands, wanting to slip them into the thin elastic band of his thong. The colored beams of light piercing the darkness, moving back and forth, illuminated small areas of the bar for a split second, exposing a mass of men bumping and grinding to the beat of the music. It made it easier to ignore the shouts and calls from the men crowded around the platform where he was dancing. Joel couldn’t hear a damn thing over the deafening thump-thump of the club mix booming over the speakers and that was fine with him.

Dick Dancers by Alex Morgan