The Way He Moves

My hot and sultry night with a go-go dancer. Could one night with a go-go dancer lead to more?

Peter is still suffering after throwing out his husband of five years for infidelity. He isn’t sure he’ll ever fully recover. His husband, Daniel, was his life.

Trying to break him of his solitude, Peter’s friends arrange a night out at a local gay bar renowned for its go-go dancers. Peter gives in and agrees to go with his friends.

The first two dancers are good, hot even, but it isn’t until the third dancer, Paul, sweeps onto the stage that Peter finds a true appreciation for the art form. Because Paul is truly a work of art in motion, his ballet-style performance on the pole center stage captures Peter’s full attention.

Peter is shocked when Paul makes his way over to their table after changing. Even more shocked when Paul starts flirting with him. Paul is way out of his league.

When the flirting turns more serious, Peter is enthralled—honored, and soon finds himself at Paul’s place. He has been ensnared by Paul’s seductive moves.

He soon realizes he is one of many who have come before him. But there is something innocent about Paul—a need for genuine affection. Peter follows him there. With unexpected results.

Is Paul more than a one-night stand?

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It had been three months, and I was still heartbroken. The man of my dreams had cheated on me, and I'd had no choice but to throw him out. I would have forgiven him if the slip-up had been a single incident, but his affair had been going on for months. When he finally told me, Daniel, my husband, had just broken things off with his office assistant. He had begged me for my forgiveness. Promised me it would never happen again.

I hadn't forgiven him, but I had decided to move on with our lives—together, but then he started staying out later and later after work. Smelling of cologne and alcohol. The night he hadn't come home, he had found his bags packed at the bottom of the stairs the next morning.

Packing those bags had torn my heart open.

I flicked through the television channels. Netflix and Prime Video had become my lifeline. For months, the thought of going out after work had been enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack. I hadn't felt ready to venture out into the world.

My friends had made plans for tonight. After three months of not hanging out with them, aside from the occasional movie night at my place, they were pressuring me to break my solitude.

Today had been a good day. Going out was a possibility. I clambered off the sofa and headed to the washroom to look at myself. I had regained enough self-dignity to have my hair cut last week. Undercut all the way around, longer on top. My dirty-blond hair, streaked with highlights, was complemented by my soft, brown bedroom eyes. They were my best feature as far as I was concerned. Some guys thought it was my ridiculously long lashes. I turned my face side to side. If I went out, I would leave my stubble to highlight my chiseled features.

Clothes. I picked through my closet. The guys were taking me to a gay bar ... if I decided to show up. I needed to choose something suitable. I settled on a pair of black leather pants and a purple, white, and black patterned button-down shirt that I left unbuttoned practically to my navel.

I looked good for a soon-to-be-divorced guy. The paperwork was already in the works. I had retained a lawyer a month after I threw Daniel's ass out of my house. There was no point in waiting. I had heard through the grapevine that he was already seeing someone else.

I brushed my hand through my hair and decided on a bit more hair putty. While I was back in the washroom, I spread a fresh layer of moisturizer over my face, glossed my lips, and called for a taxi. It seemed I was going to take the plunge after all. A few drinks with friends shouldn't go too far amiss. If I started to feel uncomfortable, I could just leave.

I found my friends in the lineup waiting to go inside Celebrities. It was the premier gay bar in town. Their claim to fame was the quality of their go-go dancers. I had only been a few times in the five years I had been married. We hadn't gone out much, preferring to sit together on the sofa, eat popcorn, and watch movies. That had all changed ten months back. Daniel had become secretive, staying late at work. Texting furiously on his phone during our time together.

My friend Dan slapped me on the back. "Glad you finally ventured out, Peter."

I nodded. "It was time."

My other friend Stephen nudged me. "Maybe we'll find you a little action."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Definitely not ready for that."

"Never say never." Dan grinned at me. He meant well. So did Stephen. It must have been hard for them to stand by, unable to do anything, as I dissolved before their eyes. Daniel had been my life … the reason for my joy. Throwing him out was the hardest thing I had ever done.

We finally reached the door. After the customary identification check and payment of the club fee, we made our way inside. The music in the club was louder than I remembered club music being. I was going to be hoarse by the end of the evening from shouting through conversations.

The dance floor was jammed with men in various states of dress. Some were fully clothed, others with their shirts off, some wearing harnesses. It felt like coming home after a long reprieve.

I slipped into my seat as Stephen headed to the bar to order our drinks. He knew I only drank gin and tonic. One had to watch one's weight. Despite having been essentially housebound, I had maintained my exercise regimen. You could bounce a coin off my abs.

I checked my phone. Ten thirty. The night was just getting started. The music faded, and a man stepped onto the stage. There was a pole installed center stage that must be new… to me, anyway. I had never seen it there before.

The man announced the first dancer, and I settled into my seat. The music died, then was replaced by Bando Jonez's Sex You. The go-go dancer was talented but nothing special. His outfit was spectacular, showing off every one of his gorgeous assets. He ground the air and rotated his hips, his hands traveling across his chest, abs, and cock. It was mesmerizing in its own way.

The next song was Hot in Here by Nelly. Again—talented dancer. He certainly had the crowd going. Dollar bills were raining down on the stage.

I sipped on my drink. My cock was certainly interested. He was all over the stage, humping the pole and stage, undulating against the floor. And the guy had an ass made for twerking.

The crowd fell silent when the dancer left the stage, as if in anticipation. I sat up straighter. Something spectacular was about to happen.

Dan touched my elbow. "Wait until you see this guy."

The dancer entered the stage in silence and posed. He was wearing simple tan leggings and was bare-chested. You could see the outline of his cock and cockhead through the material covering his lower body. My cock stirred at the sight of him. And to top it off, he was beautiful. Dark hair—green eyes. The announcer introduced him as Paul Lalonde.

I was immediately enthralled. Then Paul started moving in time to "Pony" by Ginuwine. He was like poetry in motion. Hot, sensuous poetry. He jumped at the pole, lifted his taut legs, suspending himself perpendicular to the pole, then spun at a dizzying speed around it. Everything after that was like an intricate ballet—on a pole. His gracefulness and poise; astounding. I was breathless. I had never been so captured by a performer. Paul was sex and beauty incarnate.

The song ended far too soon. I gulped my drink and shifted in my seat. My cock was hard as a rock. If the song had lasted any longer, I would have cum in my pants.