Uncertain Fire Read online

  Uncertain Fire

  P.J.Doolittle

  Chapter One

  ~~~

  Bradley pulled the knit watch cap lower over his ears and lowered his head as he hurried from the taxi to the club entrance. He knew it was unlikely he would be recognized but he was still conscious of how inappropriate it was for himself, a successful business owner, to be seen going into a place like Rod's. True, it was an upscale club, low key and elegant in appearance, blending in with the many other night clubs in the area, but that didn't change what kind of club it actually was. A male strip club. A gay male strip club. He didn't visit the club often, especially recently. The small aviation company he started several years earlier had grown into quite a lucrative venture and it usually kept him too busy to make the time for such indulgences. But every so often he felt the pull of it, the inexplicable that had ultimately cost him his marriage several years ago. At the time he had been fresh out of college and just obtained his first pilot's license, and he had been schooled by society to believe the next step in life was marriage and a family. He'd had more than a passing interest in other men since he was in his early teens but thought he had successfully quelled it, pushed it aside to a back corner of his consciousness where it could be ignored. After all, he liked women, there was no question about that. Surely the attraction he sometimes also felt for men was merely natural curiosity. But the longings hadn't been as easy to push aside as he had hoped. When another pilot had made his interest in Bradley known, the old feelings had resurfaced. Bradley experimented, Joyce found out, and the marriage was now a distant memory. By aggressively throwing himself into his burgeoning company, Bradley had successfully managed to avoid involvement with anyone of either gender aside from a few one night stands. But when he allowed himself to think about it, he faced the fact he was lonely. Clubs like Rod's made him feel less alone, and even though he didn't know the other patrons he felt they were all akin in some way, all successful men who discreetly appreciated an attractive male body. It had been several months since his last visit but Bradley was relieved to see that little had changed. It was still subtly lit inside and there were small, softly lit stage areas on three of the walls, the fourth holding the bar. The music was different for each stage, low enough that one didn't overpower another, and Bradley found a small table near the center where he could see all three performers.

  After ordering a drink he glanced around. The club was full but club etiquette forbade patrons from loud or boisterous behavior so when his drink arrived Bradley sat back and began to relax. He hadn't realized how much the stresses of running his small company had been wearing on him and he was glad he treated himself to this night out.

  Glancing at the stage to his right, Bradley saw a muscular man in a G-string gyrating slowly to the beat. He was unimpressed, the man was too model perfect with his cropped hair and steroid-enhanced body. The second stage had a young Asian man who looked to be scarcely out of his teens, slender and effeminate looking. Not Bradley's type at all. Bradley turned to the third stage, the one to his right, and sat up straighter for a better view. Rather than a scantily clad young stud, this stage held a slender man in tight white jeans and a black sleeveless top with wavy honey-blonde hair cascading over his pale shoulders as he danced. This man didn't gyrate, he didn't play up to the audience or even seen to acknowledge them at all. He simply held the pole with one hand and swayed his hips, his perfectly molded ass moving rhythmically to the softly pulsating beat. His eyes were closed, he looked as though he were in a dreamlike state, his head tilted back and a faint smile on his thin lips.

  Bradley couldn't tear his eyes away. In front of each stage was a small golden box shaped like a treasure chest where patrons could put their tips, and the name on this dancer's read Kamil. Each performer chose their own music but unlike the techno or electronic music most dancers played, Kamil played rock and heavy metal. The next song had a harder, more driving beat and without pausing or even opening his eyes, Kamil's moves changed to adapt, he danced around the pole, holding it with both hands now, occasionally snapping his hips in time with the music. Bradley felt every snap, every move, like a miniature shock through his system and he found himself for the first time undeniably aroused simply from watching a dancer. Usually he only came to these clubs to relax and watch, it was never his intention to hook up and in fact, this was frowned upon at Rod's. But for the first time, Bradley found himself wishing that this actually one of the seedier clubs where one could pay extra for a private lap dance or perhaps even some more intimate attention from a performer.

  Though he hadn't removed a stitch of clothing, Kamil was by far the most sensual dancer in the club and two hours later when he picked up his tip box and vanished through the small curtained door behind the stage, Bradley knew he would be back, as soon as he could. As he left the club he asked the attendant when the dancer on stage three would be working again.

  "Oh, Kamil? He only works weekends, every Friday and Saturday night."

  Bradley thanked the man and knew he would return the following Friday night. On the taxi ride home, Bradley couldn't stop speculating about the man Kamil. An unusual name for an unusual man. He had been more like a fairy tale creature than an actual man and Bradley could almost convince himself he had imagined him, conjuring up a figure from a fantasy he didn't even know he had.

  Bradley's company operated three medium sized cargo aircraft flying throughout central England and to obtain the capital to start the business Bradley had to get the backing from an investor, Harry Howell, an entertainment mogul who dabbled in several different investments. What Bradley hadn't realized at the time was that Howell would insist upon having an active role in the operations and frequently checked up on Bradley to go over his books and his flight logs. It was unavoidable, but nevertheless Bradley resented not having free reign to run the company as he saw fit.

  Several months earlier Mr. Howell, or ol' Harry as Bradley privately referred to him even though he was roughly the same age as Bradley, had recommended Bradley hire a general manager to assist with the daily operations so Bradley had been screening applicants for the position. On Monday morning he had yet another interview to conduct and he dreaded it. He didn't feel he needed help, he had his two pilots and even though he sometimes took flights himself he felt he could handle the workload. However, he knew that Harry's "recommendations" were veiled orders and that there was a very real possibility of him pulling his funding if he felt Bradley was blatantly ignoring his advice. Sitting in his small office off the hangar, Bradley heard the door to the outer room close and he knew the applicant had arrived. Taking a deep breath, he went out to meet the man. Expecting a stodgy accountant type, Bradley was surprised to find a pair of brilliant blue eyes look up at him as he came out, followed with an apple-cheeked smile.

  "Mr. Mitchell?" Bradley extended his hand.

  The other man shook it. "Call me Denny, please."

  Bradley invited him in to the office and less than an hour later he knew he had found his assistant. Denny Mitchell's jovial exterior belied his sharp mind, he had the qualifications and, more importantly for Bradley, he had a personality Bradley felt he could work with. He was hired on the spot.

  The following day he called a company meeting to introduce Denny to his pilots Aaron and Norm, both old friends of his from his first job as a pilot. Both also knew of Bradley's failed marriage and had their suspicions about what was behind it since, at the same time of the divorce another pilot, a known gay man named Ian, unexpectedly left the airline they all worked for at the time. Bradley was grateful that this hadn't damaged his friendship with the other two pilots. Much to his relief, Denny seemed to hit it off right away with the pilots and he was confident they could all work well toge
ther.

  The remainder of the week was spent working Denny into the company's routine, but each night when he returned to his flat Bradley's thoughts invariably drifted to the slim dancer with the long wavy hair and dreamy expression. As Friday grew closer Bradley's anticipation grew and when the actual night arrived he found himself at the club early. Three unknown dancers were performing, none of whom interested Bradley, and he started to feel a little foolish for being so excited over the prospect of watching a male stripper who didn't even strip. By the time Kamil did take the stage Bradley had several drinks in him and was seriously considering going home.

  Those thoughts instantly disappeared, though, when Kamil quietly took the stage. Still not acknowledging the audience, he put his tip box down, activated the switch to turn on his chosen music, closed his eyes and began to sway, the faraway look gradually taking over his features. Bradley had a closer table this time and took a more careful look at the man, noting his strong, square chin and almost translucent complexion. He was so fair he was almost certainly blue-eyed though Bradley wasn't able to tell, and when he raised his arms to grasp the pole Bradley could see he had very little body hair. Kamil wore skin-tight black jeans with a red sleeveless tee this time and, once again, he never removed a single article of clothing throughout the performance. It was obvious he had his regulars, Bradley noticed a few men coming in and going straight to tables near Kamil, not giving the other dancers a glance. By the end of the evening Bradley had to admit to himself he was smitten, he had been held spellbound for over two hours watching every move Kamil made, hoping against hope that the next song would have the driving beat that encouraged Kamil to snap his hips and tilt his head back so that glorious hair cascaded down his back even though it was a little embarrassing to realize he had a raging erection from merely sitting there. Before Kamil left the stage Bradley slipped an even larger tip than before in the box. That night Bradley's dreams were haunted by the long slim legs and perfectly rounded ass of the dancer; in the morning he was even more embarrassed to discover that at least one had been a wet dream.

  Once or twice a month Bradley had to sit through a meeting with Harry Howell and go through the company's losses and profits in minute detail. Monday morning Harry was already at the hangar when Bradley arrived, sitting outside in his custom Mercedes impatiently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Bradley sighed, pasted a smile on his face, and greeted the man as he got out of his car. It wasn't that he was an unpleasant person, it was just that Bradley resented someone who he felt had no inkling how an airline company worked wanting to be involved in every aspect of the business. Bradley was a headstrong, independent person by nature and even though Howell was never obvious about it, they were both fully aware that the business would go bankrupt without the financial backing he provided.

  Bradley couldn't help but respect Harry, though; a working-class Cockney kid who had worked his way up to become the owner of concert venues and recording studios across the U.K. But whereas he wouldn't presume to know anything about Harry's business, Harry saw fit to insinuate himself into Bradley's. Respect him as he may, Bradley couldn't bring himself to like the man.

  "Dutton! Are you paying attention?" Harry's voice brought Bradley from his daydreams to focus on the computer printouts spread across his desk. Bradley passed his hand across his face and attempted to pay attention. He hadn't slept well, half-formed visions of a slender honey-haired dancer had haunted his dreams and he was already looking forward to the next weekend when he would visit Rod's again.

  "I was saying I think it's time we brought the company more into public view," Howell was saying. "The University is looking for guest lecturers for their business administration department. You would be perfect for something like that."

  "Me!?" Bradley's attention snapped to the present. "I'm not a lecturer. I don't even have a degree myself."

  "Doesn't matter," Howell was dismissive of that. "You're an entrepreneur, you're exactly what they're looking for. I'm going to look into it."

  Bradley shook his head, "I don't want to do anything like that, Howell. Find someone else."

  "It will be good publicity for the company, there will be articles in the papers about the guest lecturers. I think you should seriously consider it."

  Bradley bit back a sharp retort. He knew that tone of voice; Harry would not take no for an answer. The idea of speaking in front of a group of business students couldn't be less appealing but he also knew the insurance payments on the planes were due. He needed Harry's money. He sighed.

  "Let me know the details when you have them."

  Howell nodded, tucking a tendril of hair that had escaped from his long ponytail behind his ear, going on to talk about advertising ideas he wanted to look into, but Bradley zoned out. Inwardly he was seething. How he hated being under Harry's thumb! Later in the morning after Howell left, Denny, the new operations manager, tentatively knocked on the door of Bradley's office and peeked in.

  "Do you have a minute? I need your signature on these invoices."

  Bradley had been sitting at his desk but staring into space, he looked up at Denny.

  "Sure, come in. Did you meet our generous benefactor this morning?" Bradley couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  Denny chuckled. "Harry Howell? Yeah, he came around and introduced himself." Denny had been given a desk in a partially walled off area in the hangar to use as an office area. "Seems a decent enough bloke."

  "He's a fucking tyrant!" Bradley muttered, then at Denny's somewhat shocked look, he amended that. "No, I shouldn't have said that. He does sometimes have some good publicity ideas for the company. But I wish he would just keep his nose out of the business side of things!" Bradley had already become comfortable enough around Denny to relax his natural guard.

  Denny knew enough to not comment on that but he was already demonstrating an unexpected talent of diverting Bradley's frustrations into more productive channels and the two of them were soon immersed in discussing the rest of the weeks delivery schedules. The stress of dealing with Howell, however, made Bradley wish the dancer Kamil worked more than just weekends. He would dearly have loved to go to the club that night and lose himself in fantasies as he watched the man's hypnotic movements.

  On Thursday Bradley got a call from Howell's secretary outlining his upcoming lecture at the University. He had two weeks to prepare for it and, while he wasn't the least bit intimidated by the prospect of public speaking, he still dreaded it. He felt it was ridiculous for him to outline how he had founded his company when it was still struggling and had yet to turn any real profit, and he was convinced that any benefits of getting the name Dutton Air Freight in the public eye wouldn't be worth the afternoon's work he would lose. Friday night's visit to Rod's couldn't come soon enough after the week he had.

  Friday found Bradley distracted all day. Caught daydreaming while Aaron was going over his plane maintenance records with him, his friend tapped him sharply on the shoulder.

  "Hey, you're a million miles away, mate! What's going on with you lately, anyway?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh come on, I've been catching you staring off into space all week with a weird little smile on your face. So who is she?"

  "Who is who?"

  "It has to be a bird." Then Aaron paused. "Or someone."

  It was as close as he had ever come to coming out and saying he knew Bradley was interested men too, and Bradley felt himself flush. "Nothing like that, I'm just steamed over Harry forcing me into this lecture bullshit."

  Aaron nodded "Ahh, I see." and Bradley was relieved that he seemed to accept that explanation. As good a friend as Aaron was, Bradley wasn't comfortable discussing what he felt was a silly infatuation with a stripper.

  Although he owned a car, he always took a taxi to the club rather than risk anyone seeing his car there. As accepting as society had become of gay and bisexual persons, Bradley himself preferred to be discreet, rightly feeling it was no on
e's business what he did for entertainment. Much to his consternation, though, Bradley found he was actually nervous as he rode to the club that night. It was absurd. The dancer Kamil was completely unaware of his existence, he knew. In fact, Kamil seemed oblivious of anyone in the audience, he appeared to be caught up in his own world on the stage, lost in the music he chose to dance to. Bradley was starting to recognize Kamil's regulars, men at the tables around him by Kamil's stage, waiting for the dancer to appear.

  When 9:00 came, however, a strange man came through the door behind the stage with a tip box. A murmur of displeasure rose from a few of the tables. This dancer couldn't be less like Kamil, this was a muscular, body-builder type nearing middle age with a shaved head and tattoos. A man at the next table beckoned to a server and Bradley perked his ears, hearing the man ask about Kamil. He caught a few words of the server's reply, something about family, and north. The server assured the man that Kamil would be back the following week.

  Bradley cursed under his breath, a little surprised at the depth of disappointment he felt. The new dancer didn't interest him at all and glancing at the other two stages Bradley found nothing that appealed to him at either of them. He finished his drink and left the club. Outside he stood at the curb waiting to hail a passing taxi, reflecting on how long the next week was going to feel. In some strange way, seeing Kamil dance had become very important to him. It was at times like these, standing on a busy sidewalk in a light rain, that made Bradley feel terribly alone and empty inside. A man passed him on the sidewalk and looked back at him with interest. Bradley recognized him as another of Kamil's regulars who had left the club in disappointment upon finding the dancer wasn't working that evening. For a quick moment, Bradley entertained the idea of flirting with the man, but just then a taxi pulled up and Bradley took the opportunity to grab it before someone else did. It was just as well, he reflected. It would only be a one night stand, and in the end, it would leave him feeling lonelier than before.