This time Lyon actually reached over and patted his ass a couple of times. He laughed and said, “You’d better not wear those see-through panties tonight. Chickey will freak, man.”
J.D. took one look at Treston’s see-through underwear and said, “Whore.” A typical reaction from another catty, competitive gay man.
Treston glanced at J.D. and said, “Slut.” Then he turned to Lyon and said, “I’m not wearing them in the show. I just like the way they feel. I’ll get you a pair if you want.”
“No, thanks, buddy,” Lyon said. “I prefer boxers.”
J.D. rolled his eyes and pulled his dick out of the sock-jock. He couldn’t seem to get it in, no matter how hard he tried.
Lyon pulled off his sweat socks and laughed. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: that ass is as good as any woman’s.” Then he reached over and slapped Treston’s ass one more time.
Treston loved the harmless attention from Lyon, mostly because he knew he didn’t have to take it seriously. Lyon was happily married and nothing they said to each other went deeper than a silly joke. Lyon even joked around about Treston’s ass in front of his wife and she didn’t care. And once, briefly, Lyon had mentioned in passing that his wife thought Treston was so cute she said any time Treston felt like doing a three-way with them, she’d love it.
As Treston turned to J.D. so he could help him put his dick into the sock-jock, he smiled and said, “You’re so good for my ego, Lyon. I wish I could record you so I could listen to you when I’m depressed.”
J.D. pulled the waistband of the sock-jock and said, “You hold it and I’ll stretch out the pouch. When I stretch, stuff it into the pouch as much as you can and I’ll pack it down myself.”
Lyon frowned at what they were doing and said, “Why don’t you just get things that fit, J.D.? Wouldn’t it make life easier?”
“It’s not so simple,” J.D. said. “I never know until I get the underwear out of the package. And they don’t let you return underwear.” He looked between Lyon’s legs and said, “Not everyone can have a little dick like yours.”
Lyon made a face. He was naked by then, and he spread his legs and glanced down. “My dick’s not little. I’ve been told I’m above average. And my wife never complains about it.”
Treston was still holding J.D.’s dick with one hand and pushing his balls into the pouch with the other. “Don’t pay attention to him, Lyon,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about in that department. J.D.’s just frustrated right now.” He shoved the rest of J.D.’s dick into the pouch, patted it, and laughed.
When he saw J.D.’s dick actually did fit into the tight little pouch, he turned back to his locker and reached inside his backpack for the personally autographed photo Chad Pratt had given him. He set it out right in front of both J.D. and Lyon, but they were both so consumed with getting ready for the show they didn’t notice it right away. He even pushed it toward the edge and let it fall over on purpose. But they still didn’t notice it. When he finally bent down to pick it up, Lyon poked him in the ass with his knee and he fell sideways.
“I’m sorry, man,” Lyon said, reaching down to help him up. “I didn’t mean to poke you so hard.”
He grabbed Lyon’s hand and glanced at his hairy legs. The straight male strippers didn’t shave their legs like the gay male strippers, and they often got more attention from the customers because of this. Treston wondered if he should stop shaving his body, but then he dismissed the thought because he liked being smooth all over. He wasn’t all that hairy to begin with, and he felt cleaner and fresher when he was smooth.
When Lyon pulled Treston up, he noticed the photo of Chad in his other hand. “What’s that?”
Treston stood up and shrugged. He pressed the photo to his chest, smiled, and said, “Oh, it’s nothing really important. Just a personally autographed photo from Chad Pratt. I thought I might hang it inside my locker.” He acted nonchalant, as if he pasted a photo of Chad Pratt to his door every day of the week.
Lyon and J.D. exchanged a quick glance. A few of the other guys near them stopped to listen.
As Treston reached into his backpack for tape, Lyon said, “Yeah, right. You’ve got a personally autographed photo from Chad Pratt and I’ve got one from Prince Harry.”
Lyon said, “And I have one from the queen herself.”
When they both started to laugh, Treston stuck the photo to his locker with tape and said, “He’s actually a very nice man, once you get to know him. Of course he’s not the kind of man I would get serious about because of his notorious reputation. But I did have dinner with him last night, and we did go back to his place and have a little fun in his bedroom. That’s why I missed the show last night. Chad insisted I go with him and I couldn’t say no.” Treston never kissed and told, but this time he made an exception to his own rule and rationalized by telling himself he wouldn’t go into details about what he’d done in Chad’s bedroom.
Lyon tapped Treston’s ass again and laughed. “Yeah, right. And I’m doing drag tonight.”
“And I fucked Prince Harry,” J.D. said.
The other guys who were listening started to laugh and murmur things to each other. It was obvious no one believed him.
This didn’t bother Treston. He had proof. “I can get Mickey J. to confirm everything I’m saying. He was here last night at the door when Chad took me away in his limo. He saw it all and he told Chickey why I didn’t go to work.”
“Mickey J. got fired last night,” J.D. said.
“Fired?” Treston felt a thump in his stomach.
Lyon frowned and said, “Chickey caught him dealing at the front door and he fired him on the spot.”
“That’s a shame,” Treston said. He liked Mickey J. He’d actually slept with him once, right before he’d met Harlan. It had been raining heavily that night and Mickey J. had offered to drive Treston home. When they pulled up to Treston’s apartment Mickey J. invited himself in for a drink. Treston had always had a weak spot for bulky weightlifters and guys with very large feet. “I’ll miss Mickey.”
J.D. laughed. “I’m sure you will.”
Thanks to the fact Mickey J. liked to kiss and tell, everyone in the club knew Treston had slept with him. Mickey J. had even gone into details about how he’d fucked Treston upside down. It was all true, but Treston wished he hadn’t talked about it to all the other guys. Thanks to Lyon, Mickey J. finally stopped talking about it. Lyon told Mickey J. if he didn’t stop, he’d kick his ass. “I won’t miss him for that reason,” Treston said. “Mickey J. and I were only together one night. I’ll miss him because he was always so nice to me.”