Page 11 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)
Bria
Mick and Natalie were anxiously waiting for us at the top of the escalators that led to the Red Magic theater.
“About damn time.”
“We were about to head in without you!”
“Calm your tits, Ash had to take her precious time curling her hair.” I chirped, rolling my eyes at them while giving Asher a playful nudge right before stepping off the escalator.
“At least I took the time to style mine instead of just drowning the roots in dry shampoo, fluffing it up, and calling it a day.” Asher huffed, flipping one of her long curls over her shoulder and strutting past us toward the photo booth.
“Messy-styled is not a thing, by the way. I don’t care who suggested otherwise. ”
Mick, Natalie, and I snickered as we followed closely behind her—again, my mood elevating even higher than before—forgetting the bad and embracing the good that was my tribe .
“Alright, get in nice and close, ladies—like you love each other—and let’s see those sexy smiles.
One… two… three.” The photographer took a couple of quick group photos, handing us a card with a QR code to review them later, before we proceeded through the theater doors with our seat assignments in hand.
Once inside, we were escorted to a small round wooden table at the far end of our row, right between the foot of the grand staircase and the loveseats.
Asher sat me on the very end, exposed to where the most foot traffic would be.
“If you don’t get attention in that spot with the way you’re dressed, then all hope is lost for you.” She tsked with a saccharine smile before taking her seat right behind mine. “Now where’s our damn waiter, I’m ready to get this night fucking started.”
And speak of the devil… as if right on cue—
“Can I start you beautiful ladies off with a drink? Maybe a couple of shots?”
“How about a hot and available man for my bestie right here? Are you serving those too?” Asher cut in, gripping my shoulders from behind as our waiter’s eyes found mine.
I found myself speechless as I stared up at him—his eyes holding me hostage with their swirl of colors—green, blue, and brown.
I could swear I caught a glimmer within them as he slipped his notepad back into his apron.
The bright blue ball cap he wore with the letters 'RM' embroidered in metallic gold hid everything except the sly smile that screamed trouble .
Even wearing a hat he looked way too fucking good to be serving drinks from the bar, and all I wanted right now was a shot of him.
As I sucked in a breath, the handsome man straddled my closed legs, getting up close and very personal, my bubble of space no longer existent—but I didn’t fucking care.
“Well, if you don’t mind me sounding too forward. I’m hot and very, very available.” His voice was a purr as he made himself known in my lap, and my heart accelerated, forcing me to press my thighs even tighter together.
And his fucking smell as it wrapped around my head— intoxicating.
I was a moth drawn to a dangerous flame, one that refused to let me go.
Asher cleared her throat, and I immediately snapped out of my daze, registering that my mouth was hanging open and that I still hadn’t spoken a single word.
Whatever this feeling—whoever this man was—I couldn’t…
“She means one of the dancers, not a waiter. No, thank you.” The shade in my tone emerged unexpectedly, yet I found it entirely necessary to release myself from his hold.
Without so much as a flinch, the waiter backed off my lap, his cheeky grin still in place.
“Suit yourself. Enjoy the show, ladies.” He gently took my hand, kissing the back of my palm with a wink before leaving our table and exiting the theater behind us .
“Hey! He didn’t even take our order—that was fucking rude.” Asher crossed her arms, glaring at me as I turned to face her over my shoulder. And I don’t think her words were directed at the waiter…
Keeping to myself, I sank back in my chair, turning to face the large stage in the center of the room just as the lights went out and a female announcer spoke over the PA system.
“As Red Magic begins, please keep your legs out of the active walkways and be mindful of other guests around you. There’s no need to keep your hands to yourself. Our dancers love it when you touch them in all the right places. Watch, touch, it’s ultimately your call—saddle up and enjoy the show.”
Asher must have taken the initiative and gotten us drinks right after I had turned my back. Before I knew it, a cherry vodka Red Bull had been placed beside me on the table, and she had already finished almost half of hers.
The spotlight from the top balcony beamed across the room to the grand staircase, where one of the dancers wearing an over-the-top suit leaned against the back wall, holding a microphone in his hand—the show’s MC, most likely.
“Thank you, Seraphine. I’ll take it from here, love.
” He saluted the ceiling before pushing off the wall and leisurely descending the stairs, my eyes following him attentively around the room.
“Welcome to Red Magic. My name is Chase Morris, and I’ll be your master of ceremonies for this evening’s show.
Now you’re going to see a lot on this stage, from flips and tricks to sweaty half-naked men—maybe even a few bare asses if you’re loud enough.
Our dancers work hard all day just to come here and work it all night.
” Chase had reached the stage, stepping up and stopping in the center with a sinful smirk.
“So if you’re ready for a good time, make some noise for the boys who can’t wait to please each and every one of you. ”
The lights went out once again, and I could hear the start of “Sail” by AWOLNATION filling the room over the cheers and screams of every hungry woman around me.
I sat up straight in my chair, eyes widening as a deep blue light illuminated the outer edges of the stage, displaying twelve ridiculously toned men, all on their knees—and yet I was the one begging.
Everything I had thought and felt before the lights went out evaporated into nothing. I was in this moment, the here and now, and I never wanted to leave. Who would’ve thought that a room full of half-naked men would be all it took to make a woman forget?
Grabbing my drink, I took a long sip, admiring every cut and curve of the men dancing on the stage before me. The dim lights accentuating fucking everything as they dragged their hands through their hair and down their bodies, making me wish that they were mine instead.
Girl Therapy, Asher called it. No fucking shit.
I pulled the cherry from my glass and popped it into my mouth, reaching for the stem just as Asher shook my shoulders and pointed to the middle of the stage.
I could barely hear a word she’d said over the music and screaming, as a red spotlight was directed straight down from the ceiling, and a man—a waiter—proudly stood, while the twelve other dancers knelt, facing outward to the audience on all sides with their heads bowed low.
“No—” My jaw dropped, as he removed his ball cap and whipped it across the theater like a frisbee, the cherry in my mouth falling to the floor as I spoke under my breath, staring directly at the man who had been straddling my lap only moments ago. “No, that’s—”
“Well, that’s one way to pop a fucking cherry! Cheers to Dallas fucking Ryan!” Asher yelled, and I swiftly turned to face her.
“How do you know who he is?!” I felt frantic, hot, flustered.
“Pfft, who doesn’t? That man is a fucking legend here. I’m only pissed that I didn’t recognize him up close. What a fucking shame.” She shook her head while pursing her lips, and I looked back to the stage, my eyes meeting his just like before. “You turned down— that .”
Dallas tore his tight black shirt off, displaying his ripped fucking body right before my eyes. He licked his lips with a flirty wink in my direction, just as the music and lights faded to black, and I sat there silently, praying to god that the look he sent was directed solely at me.
Holy fucking shit…
Red Magic was a rollercoaster of a show, with performances that focused on telling stories—very erotic stories, but stories nonetheless.
When we were initially seated, four stacks of pink dollar bills were sitting on our table. Our host described their purpose as to encourage the boys , and Mick wasted absolutely no time throwing them in all directions once the show had taken off.
There was zip-lining across the second level, platforms along the banisters where the men could run, dance, and scale ladders in every corner of the room.
My head was spinning as I tried to keep up with everything happening around us—my mind still lingering on our waiter, who, to no surprise, never returned and was replaced by someone else. Just my fucking luck.
One of the dancers blew us all away with his voice, pink bills raining down from the ceiling as he serenaded the entire theater by singing an acoustic version of “Pony” by Ginuwine, and I had no doubt this wouldn’t be the first time we’d hear that song tonight.
It wasn’t remotely what I had expected to experience at a show like this: a dancer with a sensational voice. But as the other dancers drifted down the staircase, the atmosphere shifted into something even more beautiful, with women being pulled from their seats to slow dance as he sang.
There was something magical about this show.
As the stage transformed for the last performance, I had just finished my third vodka Red Bull of the night, feeling extra special because of all the attention this seat had gifted me throughout the show.
“Oh! This is my favorite part!” Mick beamed, sitting straight up in her chair as a transparent platform was lowered from the ceiling and the lights dimmed.
I watched closely as water started to rain down like a shower from above and when I looked back down to the stage, there he fucking was—Dallas Ryan, escorting a random woman from the audience onto the stage.