Incubus Dreams

71

Incubus Dreams sits by itself in the middle of an open field, a distant stand of trees, and a gravel parking area. It sits by itself, partly by accident and partly because it is the only all-male show on this side of the river. Bright multicolored neon surrounded the entrance. There was a large printed sign on the door that read, “All-Male Dancers.” It was a last chance for the drunks to make sure that this was what they wanted to see, and they weren’t about to stumble into the wrong club.

The three of us stepped into the foyer, or whatever you call an open space with an empty display case and a little desklike area.

There was no one behind it, no one to ask if we wanted to check our coats. I was actually the only one wearing a coat. It was mild for October, and lycanthropes tend to run warm. I had the short leather jacket on, mostly to hide the gun under my arm, more than to protect against the autumn chill. But whatever bouncer was supposed to check people out at the door wasn’t at the door. We entered the club unmolested and unchecked out. Bad security, no cookie.

Of course, maybe they were counting on you being deafened and stu

How many tall, leggy blond women could there be here? More than you’d think. The room was packed. Shit.

We must have hesitated too long, because the DJ leaned down over his booth wall, which happened to be above us and to the left. He yelled, “Pay at the bar.”

“What? ”I yelled back.

He repeated himself, still yelling.

I took the opportunity to ask if he could turn the music down. He smiled, shook his head, and vanished behind his wall. I started to reach for my pocket, and Nathaniel touched my arm. He leaned in so that his face was almost touching my ear. “Don’t offer money for him to turn it down, you might offend him.”

I yelled back from an inch away, “Like I care.”

Nathaniel smiled and yelled, “He could turn it louder.”

I gave him wide eyes and let my hand fall back away from my jacket pocket. I didn’t really think the music could get any louder, but just in case, I wouldn’t tempt fate.

There was a dance floor to the right, and several small raised stages with shiny poles in their centers. A pool table to the left and little tables scattered around hither and yon. Bathrooms were strangely prominent against the far left wall. There seemed to be no door to the men’s room, and no doors on any of the stalls, so even standing at the door you could see directly into it. That seemed weird. The bar was, of course, at the far side of the room.

There seemed to be a large group of women clustered around the nearest stage, though the stage itself was empty at the moment. But other than that one group of women, the rest of the customers were men. There were three blondes who could have been Ro

He’d have made a lovely women, but junior high must have been hell for him.

Micah got us both moving down the little steps and into the crowd, a hand on either of our arms. We threaded our way through the happy, mostly drunken crowd, and finally made it all the way across the room to the bar. We paid our cover charge, mostly by pantomime, because the bar was too wide to get close enough to yell in the guy’s ear.

I tried to ask him where Ro

A man wearing only loose boxers and socks came out of a black-draped area to the side of the bar. That must be the dressing rooms.

We huddled, and I yelled, “Bathroom. I’ll check the bathroom.”

They both nodded, and we began to work our way around the bar toward the women’s bathroom, which had a large piece of cloth suspended from the ceiling, covering the door. Maybe it was to hide the fact that the women’s bathroom had a door, so the men wouldn’t feel cheated.

There was a commode in the middle of the room across from the sink. It was just sitting there, in the middle of the floor, no stall, no nothing. It held water, and seemed to work, but it was just sitting there. There were two stalls against the wall, one had an “out of order” sign. There was also a line. None of the women in there was Ro

No answer. I finally turned to a tall brown-haired woman and said, “My friend called me for a ride home. Five feet eight, blond, gray eyes, attractive. Too drunk to talk right.”

The woman shook her head. A woman’s voice from inside the stall yelled, “Hell, that could be almost every blonde we’ve seen tonight.”

I explained that I’d seen the blondes in the bar, and they weren’t Ro

Oh, well. I opened the door, and either the music had actually been turned down a notch, or I was getting used to it or going deaf.

Micah and Nathaniel were where I’d left them, but they’d been joined by a man I didn’t know. He was taller than either of them, but so thin all over that he looked smaller somehow. He had short, curly brown hair and was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and socks. No shoes.

Interesting.

Nathaniel took my hand as soon as I got close enough to be touched. The stranger touched Micah’s shoulder and let his hand linger there, just a second too long. He was smiling and asked, “Do the two of you like dick?”

I kept Nathaniel’s hand and moved up in front of them both, so that it forced the man to step back from us. He actually reached around me and touched Micah’s shoulder again. I had to let go of Nathaniel’s hand, but I moved up two more steps. For a moment the man was almost pressed up against me. He started to smile at me, then saw my eyes, and the smile faltered, and he stepped back.

I don’t know what look was on my face, but he stumbled a little over his words, “They said they liked dick.”

“I said, I liked my own,” Micah said.

“If anyone else asks,” Nathaniel said, “just say no.”

I said, “We’ve had a misunderstanding here.”

The man nodded. “Sorry.” He started to move away.

I said, “We’re trying to find our friend. She called drunk, needs a ride home.” I described her.

He gave me nervous eyes. He knew something, and I’d been scary, so he didn’t want to tell me. I should really learn to tone down the whole silent threat thing, but damn, I’ve just gotten so good at it.

Nathaniel’s hand snaked around my shoulder. The hand had a twenty dollar bill in it. He said, “Ask again.”

I took the twenty and creased it down the middle. The man watched me do it. He seemed less nervous, but I could tell he still didn’t like me or what was happening. Things hadn’t gone the way they were supposed to go, and it had thrown him.

“Do you know where our friend is?” I held the twenty up.

“Maybe,” he said, and his voice sounded rough.

Nathaniel leaned over my shoulder. His voice was low and calm. “We want to find her before she does something she’ll regret. She had a fight with her boyfriend, they’ll make up, but not if she crosses too many lines, do you understand me?”

“This will get you a lap dance, a good one. I have to do something for the money, or he’ll know I told on him. He wouldn’t like that, and he’d make sure I didn’t like it.”

“Who?” I asked.

Nathaniel was standing so close to me I felt him sigh. “Ro

“The back?” I asked.

“Wherever they go, she’s already back there.”

Shit. “Take us to her,” I said.

“Dallas would kill me. We don’t get that many beautiful women in here.”

“We could just start asking where Dallas is,” I said.

Something close to real fear went through his eyes. “Don’t do that, please.”

I hate when I start feeling sorry for them. “What’s your name?”

“Owen,” Nathaniel said, “he said his name was Owen.”

“Alright, Owen, we don’t want to get you hurt, but if you keep us talking and something bad happens…”

Micah said, “Give him another twenty, then he can take us to the back.”

I looked at him.

“We can find her on our own, and he can pretend that he took us to the back for business.”

My look said it all.

He shrugged. “He won’t get hurt, and we’ll all get what we need.”

I wanted to argue, but Nathaniel’s hand had already appeared with another twenty in it. “I had a good night,” he said. What did that mean? A good night? Good tips? Or did Nathaniel do lap dances when he wasn’t on stage? I’d never asked. I hadn’t wanted to know, hell, I still didn’t want to know. I took the twenty and folded it together with the first one.

“Take us to the back, Owen.”

Another dancer appeared in what I finally realized was the outfit; loose shorts, T-shirt, and socks. This one had more meat on him and was cute in a boyish, unfinished sort of way. “Need another hand?”

It was Nathaniel who moved up, hugging me from behind, smiling, suddenly. “We’ve got all the men we need, don’t we, Owen?”

Owen nodded, and I watched his face remold itself, so that when he turned to his coworker, he was smiling and at ease. He took the forty dollars from my hand and tucked it into the top of his white socks. He made the movement strangely graceful and more feminine than it should have been, as if in his mind he was tucking a hundred dollars into the tops of silk stockings. It was a good moment and made me think better of him in the job he’d chosen. Before that one movement, I’d wondered what the hell he was doing here. Of course, with Guilty Pleasures as my measuring rod, everyone here looked too thin, too fragile, not muscular enough, not anything enough.