bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Night Terrors

TITLE: Night Terrors
PARING: S/X This chapter S/OC
WARNING: m/m sexual activity. Adult language. Story is generally
not worksafe.
SUMMARY: 10 Years after the fall of Sunnydale, Xander has
distanced himself from his past life until a demon forces him to look
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing including the characters and products
named in this story. I do, however own an unused treadmill. If you
want to sue for that, help yourself.

Thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the excellent banner.

The hooting and shouting of the club's party goers had
calmed temporarily as Billy Bob finished his rodeo show
and the waiters hustled around the room to refill the drinks,
get their asses groped and clear off the tables.

All the staff had been carefully screened when hired to make sure
they fit the image the new Fabulous wanted to portray.
They had to be young, well built, handsome, outgoing and most
of all willing to wear tight spandex pants that clearly showed off
their best assets. Padding was permitted.

When he took over as owner, Xander personally oversaw the staffing.
The hiring, firing and especially the meeting that spelled out what was
allowed and what was not. The old days of selling ass with the drinks
was over. While private lap dances were permitted, he wanted it
understood that Fabulous was not a brothel.

Within minutes the tempo of the stage music changed and the next
dancer, Carlos, a muscular Hispanic stepped out. He held a red
cape in front of a presumably naked body and proceeded to do a
modified bull fight routine where the audience got more than one brief
peek at the bull in question.

The audience applauded wildly in appreciation of the multi-national
theme of tonights show. Bobby grabbed Spike hand.
"Oh, God he's so talented. I've never seen a real bull fight before."

Spike briefly considered pointing out the fact that Carlos was probably
born right here in Oxnard and wouldn't know one end of a bull from
the other but hell, why spoil a good time.

Meanwhile, Spike kept an eye on the side exit where the dancers
came and went. Right on time, and just as he expected, Billy Bob,
again dressed in his cowboy finest, came sauntering out.

Stopping often to smile, visit and pause to allow a dollar, usually
with a hand still attached to find it's way down the front of his g-string,
Billy worked the room. His smile never faltered and he had a
cheerful word, a joke or a handshake for everyone.
Billy Bob could sell himself like a used car salesman and the money
he earned nightly proved it.

Spike laughed as he watched a small gaggle of housewives rush over
to the handsome dancer only to be shoved aside by a couple of flaming
gays with a sparkle in their eyes and a fist full of dollar bills between them.
Billy never flinched as his cock and ass cheeks were enthusiastically
stuffed with money.

Eventually, as Spike knew he would, Billy casually slid over to Spike's
table. He leaned his bare arse against the small round bar table and he
crossed his arms.
"Evenin' Blondie. Haven't seen you here before. Enjoy the show?"

Spike turned his back to the stage and Carlos' "Ole" as he flipped the
red cape, nearly allowing his charging bull to escape it's pen.
The crowd roared.
He lit a forbidden cigarette and looked Billy Bob up and down slowly.

"Yeah, you dance pretty well, course couldn't see too much what with
all these gentlemen pressing in. It appears you have quite a fan club."

Billy chuckled modestly and shook his head.
"They love whoever is dancing at the moment. Right now Carlos is
the star. You don't seem interested in him. You not in to bull fighters?"

Spike shrugged.
"Not into sharing. You ever give personal dances?"
Billy smiled.
"You asking for a lap dance? A private one?"

Spike blew out a slow circle of smoke then dropped the butt on the
worn wooden floor and ground it out with the toe of his boot.
"Just might. How would we do that?"

Billy tipped his head toward Spike's credit card.
"A private dance is $100.00. You give the manager, Mr. Kim,
your card number then, after, if you want to, you can add a tip.
That is if you are satisfied with my performance."
Billy gave an almost shy smile and a wink.

Spike snorted, he knew whatever Billy Bob was, innocent was not
the word to describe him.
Spike handed the credit card to Billy. Before taking it to the manager,
he checked the name of the card's owner and chuckled.
"Your name's Angel? You look more like the devil to me."
"Might just be a bit of both. Maybe we'll find out, yes?"

Spike laughed and watched as Billy worked his way over to the bar
where the Oriental man who had introduced him on stage, sat.
Spike watched them as Billy stepped behind the bar and took all
the money off his body and dropped it into a basket while the
manager completed the transaction.

He also saw the manager appear to give Billy a warning.
Billy's smile stayed firmly in place as he nodded an agreement.

Within minutes, Billy was back. Spike rose to his feet and followed
the dancer through the crowd. Behind him he could hear his table mates
shouting their approval and envy.

At the side entrance of the stage area was a small hallway that led to the
back of the club. Spike followed as Billy passed several closed doors
until he came to the last on the left. Opening the door, he stepped aside
and indicated Spike should go in.

The room was small. 8X10 at the most. Plain, no windows and painted
an institutional gray. The only furniture was a large padded chair positioned
in the center and a radio/CD player that sat on a short, chest of drawers.
"I know it's not much. I guess the boss doesn't want anyone getting too
active. But then you aren't here for Martha Stewart decorating tips are you?"

Spike dropped down in the chair and watched as Billy smiled and flipped
quickly through the CDs looking for just the right music. When he found
what he wanted he slipped it in.
He then reached into the top drawer of the small chest and took out
a single serving packet of lubrication.
Spike's eye brows went up.
"That's a bit of an assumption innit?"

Billy tossed Spike a second one.
"That's the point of the privacy isn't it? I dance and you enjoy yourself.
Feel free to get comfortable. We aim to please."

Spike took the hint. He tossed his duster to the side and unashamedly
unzipped his tight black jeans, tugging them down over his hips. His
cock had been hard for the better part of an hour already and it felt
wonderful to release it from the confined space. He lifted his balls
out and rested them on the cool plastic seat.

His hand took one smooth slide up the shaft as the music began.
Billy lifted his hands high over his head and his hips began to sway
slowly to the rhythm. He glanced coyly into the beautiful blue eyes of his
customer and he took a step forward.

As the tempo picked up so did Billy's movement and in turn, Spike's
hand. He kept his grip light, Spike had no intention of cumming
by jerking off.

Billy's body glistened in the artificial light and Spike could again detect
the rich, sweet smell of the coconut oil. The dancer put both hands
on his chest pinching and rubbing his nipples into hard nubs. He then
hula danced his hips as his palms slid slowly down over his flat,
hard stomach, on to the sides of his swollen bulge.

Watching the dancer who was now just inches away,
Spike nodded his head.
"Ditch the chaps. I want to see your cock."

Billy smiled and, swiveling his body around, he turned his bare butt
to Spike as he snapped and pulled the leather costume off.
Spike's hand paused in his stroking as his other hand reached up and
felt the smooth firm round buttocks that was bouncing in his face.

Billy bent over and placed his hands on his knees. His ass, covered by
only the thin thong strap that ran down the crack, continued to keep
time to the music as moved it in the blond's cool hands.

Finally, Spike released his cock and grabbed both Billy's butt cheeks
in his hands, pulling him down toward Spike's lap. He slid his fingers
between the thin strap and Billy's crack, brushing his finger over the
dancer's hole.

"How much?"
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