John would feel guilty. He would. If he wasn’t certain that Mary was cheating on him too. He wasn’t cheating on her, actually, but for the always loyal John Watson, going to a gay strip club was a kind of cheat.
The neon sign indicated that the club was open; John adjusted his clothes and took a breath before entering the place. The ample room was dark and illuminated only by red lights that highlighted the sensuality of the club.
A bit distant of the stage where the men strippers danced in a provocative way, John sat in a comfortable leather chair, asking the closest waiter for a glass of whisky. He was so distant from his comfort zone now that he could feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins and that was the first time he felt this way since Afghanistan.
John wasn’t ashamed of being in a gay strip club at all, what frightened him the most was the idea of leaving his wife in their house, probably chatting with her paramour on the phone as she usually did, and going to an expensive club to see men dancing half-naked in his lap. The whole idea about being a cheater was the part that scared John. He wasn’t ashamed of being a bisexual man, and he probably wasn’t going to take any of these strippers to the next motel and fuck them till the morning sun. No. He would probably just watch, pay for a lap dance, go back home, wank in the shower and go to sleep in the guest room (where he was sleeping for two days now).
The wedding ring was weighting in his finger and John took it off, tucking it inside the pocket of his trousers and trying to forget that he was a married man, after all, it was like he wasn’t anymore.
The waiter came with his whisky and John took a sip, concentrating his mind on the stage in front of him. The strippers danced around, rubbing themselves in the pole, twerking in the cold metal; some of them were sitting on others clients lap, or massaging their backs with more sensuality than necessary, but that was their jobs: being sexy and starting a few sexual crises.
John finished the golden drink in one gulp and was ready to ask for another when long and cold fingers went through his shoulders. He didn’t yelp as much as he didn’t wait for that, but felt the urge to turn his neck to see whom was touching him.
The ex-soldier’s mouth fell open when he found the perfect face that was staring at him. The sharp lines that framed the porcelain skin were the most strange and beautiful thing that John had ever seen (and he had been in three continents) in his entire life.
“You are not doing anything wrong. You know” the man said, his voice was a low tone that should be illegal, John thought.
“What are you talking about?” John asked, swallowing hard.
“She cannot wait for you to be the perfect husband while she is shagging half of London.”
“Must be very common for the clients here being cheated, I suppose.” John presumed before the stripper straddle his legs with his own, gracing John with the sight of his full latex briefs.
“You’re far from being a common client.” The stripper said, sitting in John’s lap and undulating his hips twice before approach the ex-soldier’s ear with his lips “May I ask… Afghanistan or Iraq, Cap?”
“How do you know that? Do you know me?”John kept his hands on his sides, fighting the need to touch the stripper’s hips. He wasn’t scared, but extremely curious and interested.
“I don’t need to know you to see. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists: you’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. You limped in your way to the table, but you didn’t seem troubled when I sat on your lap, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic: wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan: Afghanistan or Iraq.”The man said rapidly and naturally.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” John inquired. He should be scared, mad, but he was certain that his eyes only showed fascination.
“The name is Sherlock and please, feel free to grab my hips, I know that you want it.”
A smile spread in John’s lips and he did what Sherlock said, feeling the latex and the bony hips under his fingers and this time he didn’t fight the urge and squeezed the place with both hands.
“Sherlock, huh? Artistic name?”John asked.
“Not at all. Not for you.”
“You must be required here. Making the clients feel special. I’m sure you make a lot of money” Said, sliding his hands to touch the man’s arse. Sherlock smirked and shook his head.
“You don’t know a thing…”
“John. Common and boring.”
“The praise is over already?” John laughed a bit, not being able to feel offended.
“Nope.” Sherlock said, lifting up the corner of his mouth “It’s just too common for the extraordinary man hidden under this hideous jumper”
“Should I feel flattered or offended?”
Sherlock got up, turning his back to John, his long and pale back, and wiggled his full breech slowly in John’s face. He had a big arse for a body so thin. The ex-soldier licked his low lip and his breath caught in his lung. He could totally fuck this man till the morning sun.
“We both know that you’re not offended, John.”Stated Sherlock, sitting backwards on John’s lap again wagging his butt in the man’s torso up and down in his thorax before decide to settle himself on his crotch “And now you’re half-hard”
“Very observant of you” John answered, his jaw clenched.
“Want to do something about that?”And John wanted, he just couldn’t. Not like this. Not as a married man. The ex-soldier cleaned his throat and touched the sides of Sherlock thighs with his fingertips.
“Want to tell me what such a clever man as you are doing stripping for money?” John asked in return because he really wanted to know.
“I do not strip for money. I get easily bored sometimes, and this is my distraction.”Sherlock replied, rubbing himself against John’s cock and making him harden in his trousers.
“So ‘professional stripper’ isn’t in your resume?”
“I don’t need a resume, not for what I do.” Told Sherlock, getting up again and facing John, pulling the man closer to his groin by his nape, moving his hips back and forth. John inhaled the scent of arousal in the stripper’s bulge, and he knew that he wasn’t being manipulated by him. He was so horny as John himself.
“I would love to know what you do.” John said when Sherlock moved his body away from him, bringing the man back with both hands, grabbing his butt and inhaling the scent again, just to show how much interested he was.
“This is a conversation for another night. I have other clients who need my attention now.”Lowing himself, Sherlock licked behind John’s ear and the soldier shivered with the action.
He wanted him.
He couldn’t even say how much he wanted him. Sherlock was the most interesting person that John had ever met, and he was a fucking stripper. The soldier didn’t know if that feel was just the thrill of forbidden, but he knew that Sherlock was a singular man and he couldn’t let it go so easy.
“Or I could pay for a private dance and you could tell me all about your work.” John suggested and Sherlock smirked.
“That sounds acceptable.” The stripper offered his hand and lead John to a tiny room with a leather sofa and a single pole on the center.
John sat and opened his legs, getting comfortable while Sherlock closed the door behind him.
The feline look in the stripper’s eyes when he walked toward John made the soldier shiver and feel the need to lick his lower lip.
“Consulting detective.” Sherlock said suddenly, spreading his legs ans starting to dance deliberately joining the slow beat that echoed in the room.
“Is this a real thing?”
“Obviously. I invented the job myself.”Sherlock said, flinching his eyebrow. For a moment, John saw a child in the place of this sexy and clever stripper and couldn’t stop a smile from appearing in his face.
“Of course you did. What does that mean?”Sherlock put one of his feets on the side of John’s thigh, giving him a blessed view of his lean and long body.
“It means whenever the police are out of their depth – wich is always – they consult me.” The man said seriously and placed his other leg between John’s before taking the soldier’s right hand, and placing it in his bare chest “You can touch me freely here. You’re paying for it.”
“So you do in crime scenes what you did with me sooner? Guess things and find the criminal?”John asked, truly interested and slid his hands through Sherlock’s chest, pressing his thumb in the pinky nipple, receiving a hum from the man’s throat.
“I never guess, John. Do keep up. I observe.”Corrected the stripper rubbing himself on John’s leg.
“How can you get bored when you do something so exciting for living?”He asked, fascinated.
“Something is always missing.”Sherlock said simply and got up, turning backward again and poking his arse to John enjoy the view.
John ran out of speech for a moment. This man was the most complex, beautiful, clever and amazing creature and for some reason he seemed unhappy. The soldier ran his fingers through Sherlock’s back and stopped in the latex waistband. Hesitating.
“Continue. Please, John.”Said the stripper, sounding breathless and needing with something more than arousal.
John’s fingers entered slightly inside the black latex, catching the fabric and dragging it down, exposing the white and hot left cheek of Sherlock’s arse. That made John’s eyes darken and his mouth dry. He didn’t know how hard he was until he tried to move in the sofa, his trousers was so tight that hurt and he was in a intense struggle inside himself. He wanted that man. He wanted to give up of his honor, to give away to his primitive instincts, though he couldn’t, and thanked god that a knock in the door interrupted him from doing what he was about to do.
“Billy, Victor is looking for ya” The voice came from the outside and made John release Sherlock’s briefs and his breath that he wasn’t aware that he was holding. Sherlock sighed and looked back at John with sad eyes.
“Billy, huh?” John asked with a weightless smile in his face.
“I told you that Sherlock wasn’t artistic.”The stripper smiled back before lift his pants “I work here every Saturday night.”said, not looking at John.
“I’ll be here. Looking forward to hearing about the criminals you’ve already caught.”He stood up, taking his wallet in hands and gave Sherlock the money for the private dance“It was so good to meet you, Sherlock.”John said, approaching the stripper and kissing his cheek with fondness. He didn’t even know why he felt that way, but he did and he wasn’t feeling like hiding it.
Sherlock’s mouth gave John a quick and authentic smile before John could open the door and leave with his heart doing something unknown inside his chest.