Twenty-year-old Daniel Serban loses his dancing job and threats of being outed to his family forces him to flee Limerick, Ireland. Daniel fears his father and the other gypsy men will force him to marry his betrothed, or bring bodily harm to him for being gay.
As chance would have it, he ends up in Cleary’s Pub, a gay leather bar in Galway where he meets the grouchy, ginger-bear Ronan O’Riley. Little did Daniel know meeting the ginger Dom would change his life style as he knew it.
Ronan O’Riley has been unable to move on to another sub since the death of his sub a year ago, that is until a troubled gypsy boy steps into Cleary’s. Ronan’s lonely life is about to change.
Can Ronan convince Daniel to trust him or will Daniel’s fears of his past ruin any chance of a relationship? Unexpected heated attraction in the barn ignites their relationship to move forward. Though, the two men have many of the same dreams, Daniel’s secrets and Ronan’s need to gain Daniel’s trust outlines some of the many challenges they face.
Daniel peeled off his jeans and T-shirt, then he wiggled into his scanty red G-string for the evening’s show at the Sugar Boys Club. He re-braided his hair so it wouldn’t get tangled while he twisted around on the pole, weaving a red leather strip into one strand. He threw his brush into his backpack. He was glad he’d gotten there early enough to shower off the paint from his day job.
“The boss wants you in his office.” Liam poked his head into their shared dressing room to deliver the unwelcome news. “Now.”
“Now? I have to go on the pole in ten minutes.” Daniel’s stomach twisted in knots, not wanting to be late for his dancing gig, he also didn’t want to talk to the boss, this was never a good thing for any of the dancers.
Liam shrugged in sympathy. “Don’t want to keep Bailey waiting. You know that as much as I do.”
Daniel slipped back into his jeans and pulled his neon green T-shirt over his head. He walked down the hall to Mr. Bailey’s office. The door was open, so he stepped into the office. The fat, gray-haired man sat behind his oak desk with a pipe hanging from his mouth. No one ever wanted to get on the boss’s wrong side. The man had a heavy peasant’s body, sturdy and hard, bursting with juice. He’d been known for taking sexual liberties with his dancers. On his desk sat a large bowl of pastel colored sugar cubes for the boys. The boss expected the boys to eat one cube when they entered his office. All the dancers believed the green ones were laced with drugs. Daniel certainly wouldn’t put it past Bailey to drug his employees.
“Did you want to see me, Sir?” Daniel stood just inside the door, almost gagging from the sweet, fruit-scented smoke from his pipe. The cheap bastard probably smoked some cherry tobacco, the most inexpensive kind available for purchase.
“Close the damn door behind you, boy.” Mr. Bailey propped his legs up on his desk.
Daniel closed the door, unable to move any closer, and leaned against it for moral support.
“Sit.” Mr. Bailey curled his lips in open distaste and pointed to the chair.
Daniel seated himself bolt upright on the straight-backed chair as ordered, immediately reaching for a blue sugar cube and jamming it in his mouth. His head throbbed from the uncertainty of the unexpected meeting. Either that or he had tied his hair too tight. He hadn’t done anything wrong as far as he could tell. He always arrived on time or early for work, never had any problems with the other dancers or the men in the audience. He obeyed all the rules to the letter and had never taken advantage of his employer, co-workers, or any of the clients.
“Did I do something wrong, Sir?” Daniel played with his long braid.
I am from Huntington Beach, Ca. I taught various subjects at a Continuation High School in Los Angeles, California for 27 years. I obtained a Bachelor of Arts Degree in history, Secondary Social Science Credential and a Master's Degree in Secondary Reading and Secondary Education from California State University, Long Beach. I also enrolled in some creative writing classes at UCLA. You can contact me at email@example.com.
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2016 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.