Romancing the Bouncer

  By J.D. Walker

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2016 J.D. Walker

  ISBN 9781634860918

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  NOTE: This ebook was previously published by Amber Quill Press.

  * * * *

  Because Ben needed a story.

  * * * *

  Romancing the Bouncer

  By J.D. Walker

  I worked as a bouncer at Throwbacks. Most nights were uneventful, which was a good thing. Wei Pearce—my boss—ran a smooth operation and didn’t tolerate stupidity. Neither did I, for that matter.

  I liked it when there was nothing much to do except watch people enjoying themselves, collect money at the door, and listen to the bands that performed there. As I scanned the crowd, Sandy, one of the bartenders, caught my eye and waved me over from her spot behind the bar.

  I gestured to Dawson—the other bouncer on duty—to come take my spot for a minute. Once he did, I headed over to see what was up.

  Sandy kept it brief. “Boss needs you. Sounded urgent.”

  “Got it.” I quickly made my way to the back of the club.

  When I arrived at his office, the door was open and a familiar man was on the floor, whining about his broken, bloody nose. It was Pearce’s ex-boyfriend, Merrill. He must have slipped in when I’d stepped away from the front door for a bathroom break earlier. Dawson was fairly new to the place and wouldn’t have recognized him.

  “Get rid of him, Ben,” Pearce ordered, a look of disgust on his face.

  “Sure thing, boss.” I grabbed the man from the floor and hauled him away, none too gently. I passed the only other occupant in the room—John DeWitt, who was a regular at the club—on my way out.

  Merrill struggled in my arms, so I held him tighter as I dragged him along. “That’s enough out of you,” I muttered.

  “Wei, come on,” Merrill pleaded, still trying to free himself as I moved us down the narrow hallway. “You can’t mean to—” Pearce shut the door on his whining. Good man.

  “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” I said as I hauled him out the back door of the club and shoved him onto the sidewalk. “You ever come back here? I’ll break your legs.” I put enough menace in my tone to get his attention.

  The look of fear on Merrill’s face told me he understood. I watched him scamper off before shutting the door behind me. As I walked toward the front of the club, I heard raised voices in Pearce’s office as I passed by. Sounded like he and John were going at it, and not in a good way.

  Must be something big to get under Pearce’s skin like that.

  I’d seen the way Pearce watched the man, like he wanted to have him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all at the same time. But he’d been burned by users like Merrill once too often to be willing to take a chance on anyone. He lumped everybody in the same category now. I had high hopes for John, though.

  People took him for fluff, but there was a sharp brain underneath that lovely, lithe exterior. I thanked Dawson for covering the door and took my spot once more on the stool.

  The line of patrons was long, as usual. For the most part, my job wasn’t bad or really that hard. It was just the morons who thought they could get away with stuff that made things difficult sometimes. Like right now.

  “I know the owner,” the overly trendy wannabe said as he tried to pass me without paying to get in.

  I put out an arm to block his way. “And the owner’s name is…?” I quirked an eyebrow.

  “Drew, right? We met at a club last night and hit it off. Said I should stop by whenever I wanted to.” His smile was bright and false. Maybe it worked on others, but I could smell a lie—and his cologne—at a hundred feet.

  “I see. Well, sorry, no one here by that name. Either pay up, or get lost.”

  The guy got huffy, as expected. “What do you know, anyway? You’re just a muscle-bound, underpaid bodyguard with more brawn than brain.”

  I heard that a lot. I used that assumption to my advantage, most days. “Perhaps. But since I’m smart enough to know my boss’s name, you need to give me the money, or skedaddle. Time’s a-wasting.” I flexed a bicep and he stepped back.

  Bravado fading fast, the guy tried one last tactic. “You’ll be hearing about this, and then you’ll be sorry.”

  “Can’t wait,” was my reply as he flounced away, a smattering of snickers following in his wake.

  I rolled my eyes and went back to collecting money and stamping skin. Some people were really lame.

  * * * *

  After the club closed in the wee hours of the morning, I helped the rest of the staff with cleanup.

  “Good night, right?” Sandy said as she and I hauled liquor back to the bar.

  “Oh, yeah. It was insanely busy—just the way I like it.”

  I placed two boxes on the floor next to her behind the bar. “As long as you’re happy, sweetie.” We’d been best buds a long time.

  “What would make me even happier is for Pearce to get his head out of his ass about John DeWitt. I saw John leave and he looked really upset.” We’d discussed the issue before, out of our boss’s hearing, of course. “I heard a rumor that you threw out Merrill?” she continued.

  I scowled. “Yeah. That man isn’t worth the effort of thought. I’m hopeful about John, though. I think he could be the one to get through to Pearce, help him trust again.”

  Before I could head back to the employee room and grab my stuff, Sandy said, “Speaking of opening up, you know Rebel’s Ultimatum is performing here tomorrow night, right?”

  Just the mention of the band made my skin flush. They played at the club on select Friday and Saturday nights. They hadn’t played tonight, though.

  “You know the hell I do,” I growled.

  Sandy laughed while she wiped down the bar top. “Good. So when are you going to ask the hottie bass player out on a date? Every time they play here, you’re in the front row, dancing your ass off and flirting shamelessly with the man. Why haven’t you made a move yet?”

  I knew my lust for sexier-than-was-real Monty Mabuse was obvious, but I wasn’t the only one.

  Rebel’s Ultimatum had been getting more airplay lately, and their most recent video on YouTube had gone viral within days of its release. The band was poised for stardom, and I assumed they’d be playing bigger venues soon enough. It helped that each and every one of its members was a stereotypical star—gorgeous, single, and ready to fuck anytime, anywhere. Monty was the hottest, in my opinion.

  “I haven’t done anything, mainly because it would be a dead-end road with a guy who’s interested only in one-night stands. I’m sure Monty gets all the tail he wants, and I’m looking for more than a one-off with a guy. There has to be a connection, at least. He’s a total playboy and will fuck everything male that moves. Tempting as he is, I respect myself too much to do that.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, Princess. I think you’re missing out, though. Who cares if it’s just one night? You’ll finally scratch that itch you’ve been avoiding for months now. When was the last time you got laid, anyway?”

  “Four months ago, right before Grover and I broke up. So?”

  “That long of a dry spell is depressing.”

  “Not everyone has a hot threesome to go home to every night, you know. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, I waved goodbye to the remaining staff—Pearce included—and headed out on my Harley-Davidson Sportster, which I’d bought for a steal a few years ago.

  When I got home, I scooped up Bessie, my five-year-old cat, as I walked into the kitchen.

  “Mrrow,” she purred as I put her down and refilled her water and kibble bowls.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re hungry and your human is trying to starve you.” Of course, she ignored me in favor of nourishment.

  “You’re welcome, fur ball,” I muttered as I grabbed a root beer from the fridge and headed to the bedroom, where I drank it down in between stripping naked. There were books everywhere in my room, stacks that teetered with half-read tomes that called to me, even this early in the morning. I was too tired, though.

  I took a hot shower, brushed my teeth and finally settled into bed, falling asleep within minutes.

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  When I awoke, the sunlight was blinding as it poured through the white curtains covering my windows. I rubbed my eyes and sat up as Bessie moved from her customary spot at the foot of the bed. She crawled up my body and butted her head under my chin.

  “I’m up, Bessie. I’m up.” I set her aside and left the bed to sprint to the bathroom and empty my bladder. I groaned in ecstasy as it all went down the toilet. It was almost as good as sexual release.

  I found an old T-shirt and sweats to wear and shuffled into the kitchen to make breakfast. Well, a late lunch, I suppose, since it was after two in the afternoon. I needed to be at Throwbacks by seven, so I had enough time to clean the apartment and get dressed before heading out.

  I meant what I’d said to Sandy about one-night stands. As much as I wanted to fuck Monty five ways from Sunday, there’d need to be more first. And from what I knew of him, that wasn’t happening.

  That didn’t stop me from dressing in my tightest black top, the sleeves capping my deltoids as if to emphasize how big my arms were. My jeans, also black, were the ones that hugged everything the best, and biker boots capped it all. Yeah, I wanted to be noticed, even if I’d get nothing out of it except mild flirtation. It was enough. I’d need to take a change of shirt, though. I sweat a lot while dancing.

  I gave Bessie some attention, brushed her cat hair off my clothes, and went to work.

  * * * *

  “Ben, can you go unlock the stage door so the band can start setting up for the show?” Pearce asked as he passed me in the hallway.

  “On it.” It was seven-thirty in the evening and Dawson was manning the door for the moment.

  I made my way to the stage, then the door behind it. When I stepped outside, I saw that the band had arrived. The leader, Johnny Mayhem, waved and said “thank you” as he moved his drum set around, piece by piece. I nodded and glanced briefly at the other members of the band, all dressed to impress, each hot in his own right.

  I tried not to notice the way Monty’s ass flexed beneath supple leather as he gathered his equipment. Even though I knew he was bad news, I couldn’t deny my attraction. I turned to go back inside, but before I got too far away, a voice stopped me.

  “Hey, man. Can you help me with this?” I halted and turned to see Monty holding two guitar cases, while a bass amplifier and some other equipment were on the ground next to him.

  “You guys moving your own stuff?” I asked as I started to help him. Usually they had a road crew in tow.

  “Shorthanded tonight,” he replied. “I’d sure appreciate it.”

  “Happy to.” I took the cases that he held out to me and left him to the rest. Once we arrived at the stage, I set them down in the spot where he usually played.

  “Thanks, man.” Monty gave me his trademark, cock-hardening smile after he put down the monitor. True to form, my Johnson perked up. He noticed, of course, since my jeans left nothing to the imagination. “That your way of saying ‘you’re welcome’?”

  I smiled. “You’re an attractive man. Doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”

  “Is that so?” he replied and licked his lips.

  “That’s so.”

  Monty pouted. “That’s not fair. You tease me every time I’m here, dancing that hot bod right in front of me. What am I supposed to think?”

  “That I enjoy your music immensely. Flirtation is all it is, and I know I’m not the only one. You’re too much man for me, Monty.”

  He laughed out loud at that.

  I stepped off the stage. “I gotta get back to work. Have a great show.”

  “I’ll see you later, though, right?” The look he gave me promised all kinds of things that were never going to happen.

  I ignored it. “I’ll take a break around the time you start to play.”

  I felt his eyes on me as I made my way to the front door, where I could see a growing crowd already beginning to gather outside the club. Sandy winked at me as I passed her station. I stuck my tongue out and kept on going.

  Since it was a Saturday night, the crowds tended to be pretty heavy and a little bit more boisterous. Hence, there were usually two of us at the door for a while, just in case there was any stupidity.

  A few hours later, as the band launched hot and heavy into its first set, Pearce took over from me.

  “Go shake your moneymaker,” he said.

  “Funny,” I replied before heading to the bar and ordering chicken tenders, fries and a soda from Sandy.

  “I’ll have it ready for you when you’re all hot and sweaty from making googly eyes at Monty,” she said and shooed me toward the crowd.

  “Ha ha,” I grunted and let the music flow over me as I made me way to the front of the horde.

  * * * *

  Rebel’s Ultimatum was a really awesome band, and they’d earned every inch of their fame. As I shimmied my ass to their hard-rocking rhythm, I took note of Monty, practically fucking his bass guitar while his fingers flew over the strings.

  I remembered reading online that Geddy Lee from the band Rush was Monty’s idol. He certainly seemed to emulate the man with his technique, at least. Sweat poured down my body and I caught Monty’s eye, the two of us seeming to be in sync with the ebb and flow of each tune he played.

  By the time the set was over, I was soaked. I made my way to the back of the club and changed into a dark green fitted shirt in the employee area. That done, I returned to the bar and got my meal from Sandy, who’d been keeping it warm.

  “Thanks, love,” I said as I made quick work of the food. I had fifteen minutes left on my break, so I’d miss the rest of the show. Pearce knew I loved this band and always made sure I caught at least a part of the performance. He was good like that.

  “You in a hurry or something?” a voice asked and I turned to see none other than Monty leaning against the bar next to me.

  “You know I gotta get back to work.” I gave him a quick once-over. He’d changed his top, and now he wore a semi-sheer white shirt with long sleeves turned up. A black wolf graphic was inked on the left side of it.

  He grinned. “Like what you see?”

  “You know you’re hot,” I replied and finished my fries, then licked ketchup from my fingers and wiped my hands.

  “So you planning on letting me take a ride sometime?” He leaned forward and placed a hand on my forearm.

  I removed it. “You don’t seem like the type to do monogamy.”

  A ghost of…something…flickered in his eyes for a moment, then morphed back into the arrogant rock star. “Who needs it? Life’s too short.”

  “Maybe for you,” I replied as I got off the bar stool. “But not for me.” I waved Sandy down so she could get my tray. “Great show so far, as always. Kick ass the rest of the night, yeah?”

  I started to walk away, leaving Monty standing there with his mouth hanging open, when I heard him say, “We’ll see, Pachowski.” Surprised as I was that he knew my last name, I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up a little before heading to my post at the door. I kept my brown hair combed straight back and tucked behind my ears, so nothing to fix there. I washed my face and hands, then went back to work.

  I thanked Pearce before taking my spot once more. I glanced briefly at the well-lit stage and could see Monty watching me over the crowd, his rhythm not faltering as he played along with the band. In the bright stage lights, his gaze appeared…calculating.

  Flirting was all well and good, but now that I’d gotten older and had been in a few relationships, I’d found out what I preferred, what made me happiest. I needed to have a connection with someone, not just sex. I wanted something long-term, and Monty wasn’t going to be my next fling, no matter how sexy he looked trying to con me into his pants, or the way his black hair hung around his face in waves, almost shrouding those suggestive silver eyes with mystery.

  Nope, not happening.

  * * * *

  I groaned as I turned over in bed late Sunday morning. The sunlight was brighter than I needed it to be, and I had a headache for some reason. I stretched, my spine popping as I arched my back. I collapsed back on the mattress and scratched my crotch.

  I looked over to see Bessie lying on the smooth chest of the sleek, nude body next to mine, and I reached out to…

  Wait a damn minute. What the fuck? Sleepiness disappeared as I bolted upright and stared at the still-snoring figure of none other than Monty Mabuse next to me. How the hell did he end up here?

 

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