Tag: featuring bartenders

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

Knuckle fat-lipped in the doorway, speaking only when he gotta. Knuckle liked working the door. It was liminal, and he hovered neither inside nor out but in the middle like a child hiding in scattered shadows. The sky drizzled lightly tonight, and his right shoulder got wet, but his left shoulder remained dry. He done confiscated a greaser’s switchblade. But the crowd lusted quietly tonight. He knew his scarred face scared men into submission and prevented brouhahas. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. Mr. Gregarian said it was a double-edged sword — no rowdiness, so no fighting, but no rowdiness, so no overdoing it on overpriced drinks either. Knuckle ain’t know if Mr. Gregarian told him that because he expected him to fix it or not, but Knuckle ain’t savvy changing how he got perceived, so he never did nothing about it. The switchblade still sat hotly in Knuckle’s pocket.
“Hey, scarface, is Caitlyn Smiles working tonight?”
“-got a pussy on his neck.”
“Sssssh, ssh, ssh, he’ll hear.”
The men all fell silent as sand before they shuffled up to the doorway where Knuckle stood, basking in the luscious leather napkin of the West Virginia night while being buffeted by the overwhelming warmth and wafts of cigarette smoke pluming out from the club’s insides. He checked IDs and sent them in. No cover charges on Sunday, only Friday and Saturday nights and some holidays, Mr. Gregarian said, because otherwise the place got too crowded and the men focused on tipping dancers instead of ordering drinks from Teddy.
Teddy has very soft fingers.
Ever since that night when Teddy jacked him off in the weight room, Knuckle thought about those fingers and returned to the weight room to see if Teddy might meet him there again and touch him with those fingers that were soft like a kitten’s tail. Those fingers had danced and teased his skin, caressing, affectionate, warm, inviting like a hot stove heaping out heat.
And that mouth was soft and warm too, and Knuckle craved it. Lips. Tongue.
Teddy said nice words. Knuckle ain’t recall them, but he remembered the tone and timbre, which resonated in his ears and remained there like resounding church bells and made his toes tingle every time he thought about them. He snuck drinks from his flask as he worked tonight. The vodka in the flask was thinly redolent of sun-baked plastic. It probably came in a plastic bottle, but he ain’t remember the bottle.
Just before midnight, Knuckle had to go in and lay hands on a black fellah who was getting garish and jagged in the mouth, cuz he done grabbed Caitlyn Smiles’s tits, and she looked at Knuckle with a ruddy face and a puckering pair of eyes and a torn bra, and she said, “You better wreck that bastard, Knuckle!”, and so Knuckle grabbed the man by the neck and dragged him into the back alley like a outside dog, and he punched him and kicked him behind the dumpster and left him there sputtering and bathing bloodwise in moonlight because tonight a full moon splashed effulgence through the clouds, and Knuckle liked that he could see so clearly, even in the alley where there ain’t no streetlight.
The black man had a gold crucifix with a ruby at the base. Knuckle took it. He gave it to Caitlyn Smiles later, and he wanted to tell her so many things that were true both inside the club and out, that the necklace was pretty like her, that Jesus would protect her, that Knuckle would protect her, that no man had the right to treat her like that or to paw her like a possessive puppy. In his mind, Knuckle thought all those things, but out loud, he croaked in a bumpy baritone, “Here. I’s givin’ this to you.” She took it and popped a tit out of her dress as though the necklace was a tip and she needed to earn it, but Knuckle ain’t even look at the naked breast. She stood there for a second with her tit out, realized Knuckle had no intention of groping it, then she screwed up her pretty face and scuttered away like she done see a ghost. She blushed. Caitlin Smiles never blushed except deliberately to seduce a man, but Knuckle made her blush by not looking at her bare tit.
Later, Knuckle saw her whispering about it to Teddy with the soft fingers and the lime-slicing knife in one hand. She said “he’s such a freak!” with a giggled-up laugh, and Teddy nodded grimly. They both took a shot of cinammon liqueur and scrupulously avoided looking in Knuckle’s direction.
But Knuckle ain’t let on that he heard. He stood in the doorway. Nobody thought he was where they were when he was in the doorway — Teddy was inside and treated Knuckle like he was outside, so Teddy and Caitlyn could share snickers about him in private, while the men approaching the door outside nervously talked about how to get past the scary-looking bouncer as though he was a statue who couldn’t hear what they said from a few feet away.
That was why Knuckle liked liminal spaces.
“Hey, Knuckle, is the shower in the back nice? Plenty of hot water?” Teddy asked a few minutes after close that night. The last of the men done skedaddle before Knuckle could tell them to leave. The dancers left in a big group because nobody wanted Knuckle to escort them one-on-one through the parking lot.
Knuckle plopped down at the bar. Teddy slid him a cheap drink, while he finished closing down and locking up the bar. Knuckle downed it in one gulp. “No,” he said.
Teddy looked at him like that hadn’t answered his question. He shrugged. “Oh. Okay. Well, I don’t wanna use all your hot water.”
“I do not shower a lot,” Knuckle said.
“Uhhhh…” Teddy stammered and blushed. “Yeah, the dancers complain about that, and… Nevermind. Knuckle, I, uh…” He thought for a long time, then broke eye contact with Knuckle. “Nevermind,” he said again. “I’m having trouble with the shower at my place. There’s this bum who keeps squatting there.” Teddy lived in a ratty old apartment building down the street, and it came with a group shower. Teddy said, “It’s fine. He’s usually passed out cold this late. It just makes the shower seem dirty, and I thought I could shower here before I leave for the night. But I know you’ve been staying here, so-“
“Let’s go,” Knuckle said. He stood up as though to leave, while Teddy was still closing down the bar.
Teddy paused. “What?”
“I will slit his throat if he does not leave,” Knuckle said. He walked to the door.
Teddy had to race after him. “Who? The hobo! Wait, Knuckle! That’s… a little extreme. Wait!” Knuckle stopped by the door and stood motionless. It took Teddy a few seconds to realize that was Knuckle waiting — he just stopped in the middle of Lipsweet like a robot whose off-switch had gotten flicked. “Wait, uh… don’t kill him. You don’t gotta kill him.”
After a pause, Knuckle said, “yes.”
“Okay, just… Talk to him sternly, maybe. Thanks for helping. Don’t kill anybody,” Teddy said. “Lemme just get the bar shut down.” He paused and said again, “Don’t kill anyone.” He raced to finish closing Lipsweet, then he and Knuckle piled into Teddy’s four-door to head to his building.
It was a square building with cardboard replacing most of the windows on the first floor. Teddy lived on the third floor though, which was the top floor. Knuckle saw a row of windows with blinds and curtains and flickering TV screens visible through them. One of those windows was Teddy’s place, the thought of which made Knuckle’s heart tumble over its beat.
Teddy followed Knuckle up the stairs to the third floor. The stairwell was a cold concrete column with spraypainted graffiti scrawled on every surface. The dancers would be shocked and exhilarated to learn Teddy had invited Knuckle to his home — it was an accident, but still, Teddy was going with Knuckle to a second location. The dancers wouldn’t even go with Knuckle into the next room.
Knuckle done took off his shirt and his wifebeater because it was a warm and humid night. His chest cooled, and the nasty burn scar on his shoulder heaved up and down with every breath. Teddy kept sneaking glances at his broad, powerful muscles. Those scars were stark in the dimly lit arteries of Teddy’s building.
Twenty apartments lined the central corridor of the third floor, and they all shared one group shower with just two showerheads. Teddy showed Knuckle to his apartment and pointed out the shower, but Knuckle went straight there, not into Teddy’s place. Teddy followed him, key in hand, into the shower.
The hobo, Bax, sprawled on his back, bugging out in a nest of rotting old clothes and scraps of cardboard. He lay in the middle of the shower area, so he ain’t gonna get wet even if both showerheads was running. That was rare though, as usually men showered alone here.
He ain’t move until Knuckle picked him up by the throat, smacked him in the face and growled. “You don’t live here! You-“
“Aaaagchk!” Bax’s eyes opened wide — he had been awake for days, on a meth binge, but he was unaware of Knuckle until he started hitting him. Knuckle slapped him again. Bax barked, “Git off me!”

When Bax peeped Knuckle’s scarred face and murderous mein, he squealed and squirmed. He clawed at Knuckle’s chest. His feet kicked the cold floor, but Knuckle brought him outta the showers and ignored his blows and cries.
Knuckle dragged him down the stairs and out into the West Virginia night. “If you come back, I will slit your throat,” Knuckle said. He tossed Bax like a sac of seed towards the road.

Then he turned around and came back inside with Teddy, who crouched by the door with wide eyes. Knuckle stood there as though waiting for another assignment.
“Thanks,” Teddy said, blushing. Bax stumbled off into the night, blood trickling from his nose. “You wanna come into my apartment? We could have a drink.”
Knuckle nodded.
They went into Teddy’s apartment. Knuckle stood there like a gravestone, while Teddy fixed them both a quick drink. Then Teddy saw him standing blankly and motioned to the couch. Knuckle sat down. He gulped his drink down in one motion. Teddy sat on the back of the couch, spreading his legs so he could rub Knuckle’s shoulders.
“Tell me about Emma,” Teddy said when he saw that tattoo again on the nape of Knuckle’s neck. His fingers hesitated before touching the burn scar on Knuckle’s neck, but Knuckle’s whole body relaxed at his touch, so he gathered Knuckle liked it or at least tolerated it. He wondered what kind of a woman would love Knuckle. Had Knuckle said she loved him? He definitely said he loved her, but had it gone the other direction? Teddy couldn’t remember.
Knuckle nodded. He waited for Teddy to pour him another drink, then he described the traveling carnival he had joined when he was a mere teenage runaway. He traveled all over the country with that carnival.
She was a glittering blonde beauty when Knuckle first saw her, swathed in bulb light from the carnival. She glid like a galleon through the crowd. She was accompanied by a boyfriend, Tom, but Knuckle ain’t clock him. The world parted like clouds around the sun, so nobody else existed, just her, serene and curving to forever, making Knuckle’s knees go weak.
The Sammy Smack-It Strength Meter dinged and belled behind him, but Knuckle couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
“Mister! Mister! You s’posed to gimme them tickets!” said the old man who had just scored nearly top marks on the Strength Meter. Thirty tickets had been dispensed from the machine behind Knuckle, so he tore them off the roll and gave them to the wiry old man.
When Knuckle looked again for her, she was gone, lost in the crowd of Indiana appleseeds.
They were in Peoria. It took Knuckle a few minutes to remember that — all these towns looked the same to him, the same people in the same clothes, speaking the same words as they lifted the same hammer and brought it down on the same strength machine.
The one thing different here was her.
Knuckle’s eyes opened wide when he caught a glimpse of her again later. This time she was swathed in swimming darkness, just outside the well-lit carnival grounds. Children streamed past in front of Knuckle, running outta the carnival with caramel apples and sacs of Candy Annie’s home-made sweets. Knuckle pushed past them to get close enough to hear the pretty blonde lady, whose face was pursed tight, her lips bloodless, glowing when she passed under a streetlight, where she stopped to snap something harsh to that man she was with.
“You are such a asshole!” she said to him.
It was only when she said that that Knuckle finally saw she was with a man. A boyfriend. Of course a woman like her wouldn’t be single. She probably had a line of suitors trying to meet her, Knuckle thought.
He went back to the strength meter. That was it. She was gone. He might see her again before the carnival left whatever dipshit town this was, but probably not. He could have talked to her.
But he didn’t, and that was that.
The carnival shut down at ten-thirty, but Knuckle was already done by then. Nobody came by the strength meter that late. He went to the tent he lived in and sat in the lawnchair he done place out front. The sky was dappled with stars overhead, and the night was cool and calm like that woman’s eyes. But inside, Knuckle was afrenzied, with desire and with rage, and he soon got overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through him.
He stood, as the other carnies came in for the night, and he spat curse words. He formed a fist with one hand and punched his other hand in palm hard enough to hurt. He kept doing it, stalking and pacing afront his trailer.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Pavel when he walked past. He was the horse-tamer and expert for the carnival, and he set up people — mainly little girls — with horseback rides. He always smelled like a barnyard. “There’s women here, Knuckle, don’t make ’em uncomfortable.”
Knuckle nodded. His face was grim and ruddy. He stood motionless, unsure what he could say or do that Pavel wouldn’t think made the lady carnies uncomfortable. There weren’t even any women around, most likely. The handful of female carnies were probably in their own tent by now.
“Let’s go for a bath,” Pavel said. That was where he was headed when he saw Knuckle. He always bathed first because he smelled so much like a horse. He ain’t like laying in bed in a cloud of horsehair and straw.
As he led Knuckle into the bath tent, Pavel listened to him talk about the girl he done saw. Pavel was older than Knuckle, and wiser, so he just smiled and patted Knuckle on the back.
“You’re getting this worked up over a girl you ain’t even talk to yet?” Pavel asked.
Knuckle nodded. “I guess it is kinda silly.” He blushed. His face ain’t riddled with scars then. He had a strong, straight jaw with a masculine jawline and a shaggy mane of jet hair.
Pavel filled up two wooden tubs with hot water, then he hurried to rip off his stableboy clothes. He was lean and ripped, powerfully built on his own merits, though he looked skinny next to Knuckle’s barrel-shaped body. Knuckle was slow, his eyes still dreamy and far away. By the time Knuckle was done, Pavel was already sighing and sinking into the warm water.
He leaned back in the tub and sighed. “C’mon into the water, Knuckle. Don’t get’cha hopes up about pretty nice girls. Set your sights on a carnie, most likely. Caroline Nazzir likes you.” She was a carnie, a mermaid in the Hall of Wonders, as well as a pickpocket. She done made it very clear she would sleep with any man, more or less.
But Knuckle never liked her.
His hardon jutted against his briefs when Knuckle dropped his pants. He ain’t even realize that until he took his underwear off and saw it. He covered it up with both hands, not because it would be scandalous for Pavel to see him sporting a stiffy but simply because Pavel would make of him being smitten when he did see it.
And Knuckle had to admit, he was smitten. He couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, Emma, as he climbed into the tub and sat across from Pavel. Their legs were intertwined. Since Knuckle was bigger, his legs were on the outside, pressed against the sides of the wooden tub.
“I see that, you horny dog, you sportin’ wood,” Pavel said with a baritone laugh. “You still thinkin’ about her, ain’cha?”
Knuckle nodded. He got an awkward grin on his face. “She was so pretty, Pavel…”
One of Pavel’s big knobbly feet gripped Knuckle’s dick under the water. He rubbed it up and down and laughed at the look on Knuckle’s face — Knuckle’s eyes lit up with surprise, then disgust, then a long slow melting bliss as his half-hardon turned into a full-on.
Pavel grimaced and laughed at the same time, and he put his other foot on it too. Knuckle’s dick throbbed under Pavel’s callused feet, softened by the water. Knuckle twitched.
Pavel was jacking Knuckle off with his feet for two reasons. The first was that it was funny. The second was that it would mean Knuckle ain’t gonna make Pavel use his mouth or even butt later. That was an option because Pavel owed a lot of money to this carnival, and he had to pay it by giving up the butt to any carnie who needed it. That mattered because a horny carnie was liable to start trouble in the small towns they visited.
But his plan backfired — Knuckle stood up, and, in one smooth motion, bathwater still dripping from his cock, Knuckle slipped his dick into Pavel’s mouth. Knuckle bent his knees, his eyes still upcast and dreamy, like he was moving on autopilot.
Pavel made a sourpuss puckering face, but he ain’t refuse. He been taking dick for years in this carnival, and it was better than starving to death in Poland. At least here, the food was plentiful. He slurped spit up and down Knuckle’s shaft.
A baritone grunt came from Knuckle’s mouth, and he pistoned his hips. His dick rammed into Pavel’s throat. Pavel was a tall man, so he managed to swallow almost the whole thing, until his nose was nestled in Knuckle’s pubic bush.
“Ooooohhhhmmmmm…” Knuckle moaned. He thought getting hard and blowing a nut would make him forget about that blonde woman, but it didn’t. He kept thinking about her anyway. She was too pretty to imagine himself fucking her, so he pictured her talking to him and touching his arm and giggling when he spoke — giggling with her eyes too, not just her mouth.
Sour, salty precum coated Pavel’s tongue. A moist gurgling sound came from Pavel, who patted Knuckle’s big asscheeks to signal he needed a break. Pavel spat a mouthful of prenut and wiped pubic hair off his lips.
“Gimme a sec,” Pavel said. He clutched his belly with one hand, his face tense and queasy. He held back a gag and pursed his lips shut tightly.
But Knuckle kept humping, his hips gyrating, his cock jabbing back and forth, without Knuckle paying any attention. Knuckle’s mind was fixated on her. He ain’t even notice at first that his dick moved through the air, not Pavel’s mouth. It poked Pavel in the nose when he was trying not to gag, and that caused him to retch violently.
“Uaaaaggghhhhk…!” Pavel held his stomach again and spat outta the bathtub. He intended to keep spitting until the eye-wateringly salty taste of precum vanished, but Knuckle’s dick kept poking him in the face like it was trying to find his mouth. “Gimme a sec, Knuckle-“
But his mouth opened to speak, and Knuckle — his eyes still closed — aimed his rod right for it. Pavel’s whole body buckled as Knuckle’s knob invaded his mouth, instantly filling it again with precum.
Pavel ain’t try to spit it out, though his wiry chest muscles all flexed as he held back a gag. Knuckle’s pecker pulsated like an alien beast in his mouth, and Pavel’s tongue slathered spit up and down the shaft.
Cum flowed into Pavel’s throat. Knuckle grunted again, and he pounded on his chest. Pavel winced, scrunching his eyes shut. The taste was intensely salty and powerful. He held back a gag.
Finally, Knuckle let go, and Pavel pulled off. He simultaneously gasped for air and spat jizz onto the ground outside the wooden tub. He paused for a moment. “Ecchk, your jizz tastes awful, Knuckle.” He spat again, as Knuckle sighed and wiped his dicktip off on Pavel’s cheek.
“Thanks, Pavel,” Knuckle said. His nostrils flared, and he sat back down in the spermy water of the wooden bathtub. “But I still can’t stop thinking about her.”

The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter 1

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

It was a quiet night at Lipsweet, but Teddy was terrified. That was because the peace was kept by the bouncer Knuckle, and Knuckle was terrifying.
Teddy worked the bar at Lipsweet, a rough-edged strip club on the outskirts of Martinsburg, West Virginia. Knuckle was the bouncer there. Like all the bouncers at Lipsweet, Knuckle was big and strong and tough. Unlike the other bouncers at Lipsweet, Knuckle was also badly scarred, bizarre and scary. He was scary-looking enough that nobody tried anything while Knuckle was on duty. Nobody groped the dancers. Nobody tried to get free drinks. Nobody got loud or obnoxious. Nobody picked fights.
So it was a quiet night at Lipsweet.
It was hard to finger exactly what was scary about Knuckle. Part of it was obvious: his badly scarred face, with a thick cheek scar that gave him a permanent sinister smile visible from one angle, a burn scar that spilled like lava from his shoulder to the side of his face, a long beheading-type scar on his neck, a cut running from his sideburn to his forehead as though an eye was almost sliced open and a constellation of pinprick scars and marks all over his bare arms when he wore a sleeveless shirt.
And aside from the scars, Knuckle glowered and stared with flatness, his face unreadable, his voice low and growling, without emotion, and a lot of what he said was just plain weird or incomprehensible. Nobody liked talking to him.
One benefit of Knuckle working was that folks always left promptly at closing time. The other bouncers had to drag the drunks and the sticky-peepers away from the dancing ladies. There were usually a couple brawls — not serious, as anyone left by then was too drunk to fight effectively, but most nights, somebody refused to leave.

Not when Knuckle worked the door. He gave one glowery look at the last couple drunks, and they hightailed it outta there. The bar was empty before Teddy even put the pre-sliced limes away.

After that, the dancers and waitresses left one by one. Knuckle escorted each of them to their cars in the parking lot. In between that, he sat silently at the bar and downed a drink Teddy poured for him, while Teddy added up the day’s receipts and shut the register down for the night.
He was always nervous on a Knuckle night, so Teddy was glad when Knuckle disappeared. Teddy finished with the receipts, totaled up the cash register and locked the booze cabinet. Then he poured himself a cheap drink of whiskey, soda water and the last of the apple juice — the only juice in an opened bottle besides cranberry juice, which Teddy didn’t drink this late because it would keep him up peeing. He was past the point in his life where he could drink cranberry juice late at night.
Before leaving though, Teddy went in the back to do a final check — to make sure the dancers were all gone, that none of them had been attacked by a “boyfriend” in their dressing room, that no drunks were passed out in the bathroom, etc.
Plus he was curious where Knuckle went. Lipsweet had a large back area, including dressing rooms, champagne rooms, a locker room and gym for the bouncers, a couple offices and storage spaces for the Gregarian family (who owned Lipsweet) and a locked warehouse that Teddy was pretty sure was full of guns. He didn’t ask about that door though.
“Hello? Knuckle?” Teddy called out before the flickering hall light turned on. The bathroom was deserted. The dressing room was empty — the dancers had left it a pigsty, with clothes and makeup detritus strewn about — Mr. Gregarian was gonna get het up about that if he saw it, Teddy thought.
But there were no signs of Knuckle. So Teddy ought to just go home. He was only supposed to check for drunks passed out by the toilets, and he’d done that. Now he could go home.
Yet the more he thought about it, the more Teddy wondered about Knuckle. Why was he so weird? Why did he act like that? Where did he go? Knuckle had come in after escorting Caitlin Smiles to her car — she’d called him an “ugly ape”, and Teddy distinctly remembered Knuckle coming back in after that; he’d finished his drink at the bar, and then he’d come into the back as though to escort another dancer to the parking lot. But Caitlin was last to leave, so there were no more dancers.
Knuckle was in the gym.
Teddy scampered to hide next to the door into the gym so Knuckle wouldn’t see him. He didn’t know why; Teddy was allowed to be here. Knuckle was just off-putting and odd, and Teddy’s first reaction was to avoid talking to him. Teddy stayed beside the doorway into the tiny gym.
Mystery solved, he thought. Knuckle was working out. That wasn’t so strange. Mr. Gregarian put the gym behind Lipsweet so the bouncers would use it. Knuckle was doing bicep curls. It was a little weird to work out at four o’clock in the morning, but that was hardly the weirdest thing about Knuckle.
The “gym” was a glorified closet with a couple weight machines and a treadmill in it, and he was on the bowflex in the center of the room. His big fleshy arms were sturdy, dotted with sweat. On his left bicep was that burn scar whose edges stretched up onto his neck and cheek, and since he had taken off his button-down shirt to reveal a raggedy wifebeater, Teddy could see now how big it was. He had been very badly burned at some point, it seemed.
There was a bandage on his side, near his back. It looked fresh — from tonight? — because it was still pale white and clean around the edges but soaked in crimson right above the wound. He must have struggled to put the bandage on, because it only partially covered the wound. Where it stretched onto his back, the bandage didn’t quite cover it. That made sense, because Knuckle was so muscular and thick-chested that he probably couldn’t reach that section of his lower back.
“The dancers is all gone,” Knuckle said. His voice was grim, flat, emotionless, like a deflated balloon, but scratchy like his lungs were made from sandpaper. It sounded painful for him to speak, and his voice made Teddy’s hair stand on end.
Why did he say that? Nobody else was in the room. It took Teddy a few seconds to realize Knuckle said that to him. Knuckle knew he was there.
“The dancers is all gone,” Knuckle said again with stopping his bicep curls. “I made sure they left okay.”
Teddy went into the gym-room then, since apparently hiding hadn’t worked. Teddy was just a bartender — he wasn’t in charge of ensuring Knuckle escorted the dancers to their cars, boyfriends or johns, but Knuckle had said that as though proving to Teddy he had done his job. It wasn’t even Knuckle’s job — Mr. Gregarian never said the bouncers had to do it. The other bouncers generally only did it if the girls said they were worried about a stalker. Teddy said, “Oh. Okay. Cool. Thanks, Knuckle. I just wanted to make sure no one was in the backrooms. I gotta lock up.”
“Yes.” Knuckle kept doing bicep curls. The bandage came unstuck from his bare side, which was slick with sweat. He didn’t seem to clock it. The bandage dangled from his muscular back.
What on earth did “yes” mean? Teddy hadn’t asked a question. See, this is why, Knuckle, everyone thinks you’re creepy. Teddy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the thick scar bisecting his neck. Did Knuckle survive getting his throat slit?
“I, uh… Okay. You have your key, right? So you can leave-“
“Yes.”
There was a long pause. Teddy normally liked the bouncers and their muscles. He often rubbed their shoulders when they were done with their shift.
But not Knuckle.
Not that Knuckle didn’t have nice muscles. Mr. Gregarian only hired large men with powerful bodies as bouncers. Knuckle was a muscle-hound and tough enough to have done years in prison. His shoulders were as thick as volleyballs.
A weak sigh came from Teddy’s chest. “Let me help you with that bandage. What happened?” Teddy said. He felt bad about Knuckle apparently unable to take care of his own injury. Teddy inhaled the gloriously zesty scent of Knuckle’s workout sweat.
“A knife.”
What about the knife, Knuckle? Did it come alive and stab you? Did you fall on it? Did Freddie Krueger attack you in your dreams last night?
But Teddy didn’t ask those questions. He went back to the bar to get a first aid kit. When he returned to the gym, Knuckle was still weight-lifting, like he didn’t think Teddy was going to come back to help.
“Who stabbed you? When?” Teddy asked as he disinfected the cut. It didn’t look like Knuckle had cleaned it. He had just slapped a bandage halfway on the wound. Why? What on earth was the point of that? Dried blood had trickled down the side of his back and stained his workout shorts, which looked to be decades old — the kind of basketball shorts they wore when professional basketball players were mostly white. The shorts were too short by modern standards. Knuckle looked ridiculous in them.
And now, they were blood-stained. Knuckle had cleaned off the blood on his skin, so he knew the shorts were bloody. Why hadn’t he changed them?
And this is why the dancers think you’re a creep, Teddy thought but didn’t say. You’ve been working this whole shift, presumably, wearing blood-stained shorts.
He had to admit the scent of Knuckle’s sweat made his dick twitch. He didn’t mind the extensive burn scar on his shoulder, neck and cheek either. It wasn’t classically handsome, of course, but it gave him a certain simmering intensity that Teddy found arousing.
“The man with the whiskey stabbed me,” Knuckle said, his voice rugged with rasps.
“That man who wanted Jim Beam tonight was… Wait, tonight? You got stabbed tonight?” Teddy’s hands stopped when they gripped his shoulder, which was firm like rock. His skin thrummed and buzzed beneath Teddy’s touch.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you call the police? That man — wait, you mean the man in the suit? The one who raised a fuss about me being out of Jim Beam and-“
“Yes.”
“And then came back to the bar and settled on vodka?”
“I dunno what he drank after.”
“Knuckle…” Teddy sighed. That man had been drinking at the bar right in front of Teddy. Teddy had no idea he had just stabbed the bouncer. He simply filled the man’s orders. The man went into the champagne room with Caitlyn Smiles! “That man could have been waiting in the parking lot with the knife for you to get off work! That’s dangerous, Knuckle-“
“I’s stayin’ here. In the backroom. Not leaving through the parking lot.” That flat murder-hobo voice made Teddy’s spine quake. Knuckle was still doing bicep curls, having not missed a beat.
Knuckle’s claim didn’t solve the problem Teddy had pointed out. At all. The man still had a knife in the bar all night. He could have been waiting for Knuckle in the parking lot. If Knuckle didn’t come, he could have stabbed one of the girls. Or Teddy. He could have been too drunk to know who he was stabbing. He could have had a gun as well. He could have raped Caitlyn in the champagne room. Somebody else could have taken the knife off him when he got drunk. He could have gotten furious when Teddy cut him off for being too drunk. He could have stabbed another customer for looking at Caitlyn.
He hadn’t been banned from Lipsweet! He could be back tomorrow with a bigger knife!
But Knuckle had apparently not told anyone he was stabbed. He just half-bandaged-up and resumed bouncering. He hadn’t even taken a break tonight — had he bandaged himself standing at the door?
He must have guessed what Teddy was thinking because Knuckle said, “Mistuh Gregarian don’t like it when the cops come.”
“He doesn’t like it — that doesn’t apply if you’ve been stabbed, Knuckle,” Teddy said. “You could at least kick the guy out.” Teddy’s hand lingered on Knuckle’s belly, next to the stab-wound from tonight. There was an old puckering circular scar there. “Is that an old stab-wound?”
“That’s a gunshot.”
“You poor baby…” Teddy said, more out of a desire to suck up to the scarfaced weirdo than because he really pitied him. Knuckle was too intimidating to arouse much sympathy. He patted Knuckle on the biceps in lieu of hugging him — Teddy didn’t know if he avoided hugging Knuckle because Knuckle seemed like he might not like it or if Teddy was too intimidated by him. Knuckle was still doing bicep curls too, so it would be awkward to hug him.
But the dancers did treat him badly. They treated all the bouncers like shit — the dancers mostly had high-class boyfriends who were bankers, coke dealers, heirs, etc. The bouncers were a bunch of ex-cons, boxers and freaks like Knuckle. The dancers treated the bouncers like insolent ponies.
And Knuckle wasn’t a jerk like some of the bouncers, like Davon, a prettyboy who seemed nice but never wanted to get his face mussed up and had a side-hustle as a pimp. Teddy didn’t like him.
“Who’s Emma?” Teddy asked as he washed dried blood off Knuckle’s back. EMMA was tattooed on his nape in small Gothic lettering.
“She was a girl. I loved her. That was a long time ago,” he said, and for the first time since Teddy had known him, there was a trace of emotion in his voice. “That was before I looked like this.”
“Oh, Knuckle… Knuckle, I’m sorry — did she…?-“
“She married someone else,” he said.
Teddy hadn’t meant to start rubbing Knuckle’s shoulders and chest like he did with the other bouncers, but as Knuckle talked, that was what he did. Knuckle was tall and thick-bodied, and Teddy had to strain to reach around his thick barrel chest. His pecs flexed, and Teddy found himself hugging Knuckle’s sweat-dappled chest from behind.
“I worked for a traveling carnival when I met her,” Knuckle said. “She had a nice boyfriend even then.”
“You were a carnie?”
Knuckle nodded. “I ran the strength-meter, the one with the hammer.” He paused. “I miss her.” He sounded like he was getting drunk now, his words a little sloshy, and he swayed even though he simply sat on the edge of the bowflex.
His dick twitched in his shorts, and Teddy was glad to see it was huge. He stroked it through the fabric. He was about to ask if Knuckle wanted to be jacked off, but before he could, Knuckle said, “Yes.”
There was no need to ask which question he was answering. In moments, Teddy had Knuckle’s hot, foot-long cock in hand and stroked it slowly. It was even bigger than the other bouncers, he thought. He spat on his hand, then Knuckle grabbed him by the wrist, hocked up a thick loogey of snot and put it back.
Well, that was weird, Teddy thought, but slimy and soft and warm, and he nuzzled the sweaty meat of Knuckle’s scarred shoulder as his hand wrapped around Knuckle’s dick again. The burn-scar was partially orange down the back, and then green towards the spine, the shape distended because it used to be a tattoo — maybe a dragon breathing fire? Teddy didn’t ask because Knuckle leaned his head back, then chugged the last of the liquor in the drink Teddy gave him.
He took his flask out from the pocket of the shorts he had pulled down to bare his cock. He guzzled the rest of that liquor too, as both of Teddy’s hands brought him to orgasm.
A huge wad of cum sprayed over Knuckle’s chest. He moaned — a creaky, flat moan like a malfunctioning grandfather clock — and Teddy licked a few drops up where they landed on his shoulders.
Knuckle groaned like he was either sleepy or drunk or both. He grunted and burped, the sound cavernous to Teddy because he was still behind him on the bowflex. Knuckle pushed back to signal Teddy to leave. His jizz dripped over his chest muscles. Some had gotten all the way up to his chin and lower lip, but Knuckle ignored it.
“I’ll pass out here,” Knuckle said. He glanced up at Teddy, his soulful eyes peering into him. His words lumbered out like a distant volcano. “Thank you, Teddy. For being nice.”
“You’re welcome,” Teddy said. Knuckle was already half-asleep, it seemed. He wasn’t going to wipe the jizz up off his chest or put his dick away. Teddy found a towel in one corner of the gym.
“You can nut on me. Hump my dick, or my chest if you want. Or my mouth when I pass out,” Knuckle said. He shrugged and closed his eyes. “Not when I’m awake.”
“Really?” Teddy furrowed his brow. He often jacked off with the bouncers. They sometimes let him frot their dicks or hump their muscles, as they worked out or drank their post-shift liquor.
But not when they were passed out. And not their mouths.
“Knuckle?” Teddy said softly, his hands rubbing Knuckle’s shoulders lightly. He said it a few more times, then poked Knuckle’s scarred cheek to see if he was awake.
He was out cold.
Teddy giggled and touched his scarred face again, gasping like he was getting away with something. Knuckle’s jizz clung to his chin. Teddy leaned in and sucked it up. The taste was salty and bracing, and when Knuckle didn’t react, Teddy did it again. Then he kissed a trail up Knuckle’s face.
Teddy took out his own dick and frotted it with Knuckle’s giant limp member for a few minutes, until he was sure that Knuckle was fully unconscious. Knuckle snored as Teddy mounted the bench and rubbed his dick on Knuckle’s chest.
He had massive pecs the kind only men in movies had, Teddy thought with a grin. He leaked precum all over those pecs. He found that, when his balls dragged over a nipple, both pecs twitched. He did it again and again, massaging Knuckle’s scarred shoulders.
Then he slipped his dick in Knuckle’s mouth. A hoarse choke came from his throat, but if he was awake, he gave no sign. His mouth was warm and wet, and the sensation sent a shiver up Teddy’s spine.
He moved his dick in and out, rubbing it over Knuckle’s tongue. He twitched a couple times but otherwise didn’t respond. Teddy pushed all the way in, until his balls slapped against Knuckle’s chin.
An intense orgasm overwhelmed Teddy, who moaned out loud and gripped Knuckle’s head. Cum sprayed all over Knuckle’s chin, mouth and neck, but Teddy stuck it back in his mouth, in time to fill it up to overflowing.
A retch and a shake came from Knuckle’s body, but he spat up all that cum, as Teddy’s dick still jizzed, and moistly sputtered, but he didn’t wake up. His big square face was coated in creamy white cum.
“Thanks, Knuckle,” Teddy said softly, still not wanting to wake him up. Teddy dismounted him and pulled up his pants. He was about to leave, but he saw Knuckle sitting there with his pants down, dick out, face and chest dripping with cum.
It seemed undignified, Teddy thought. He wiped off Knuckle’s dick, face and chest, then put his dick away and did his fly back up. He couldn’t put a shirt back on without lifting Knuckle’s giant chest up — an unrealistic proposition — so Teddy left him like that, snoring soundly.
“Have a good night, Knuckle,” was all he said before walking out.