Tinsel and Frost

By Eden Winters

Thanks to Nina, Meg, Jared, John, Lynda, and Michelle. My world is a better place because you're in it.

Thunderous applause and catcalls greeted Tony as he swept through the curtain and took the
stage, his sequined costume dazzling in the rainbow of spotlights. Averting his eyes from the
glare, he stalked like a panther in time with the driving rhythm of a techno tune set to a cheesy
Christmas carol. Well, sometimes you just had to work with what was available. Striking with
the speed of a jaguar, he grasped the pole and whirled himself around in a flurry of bright colors.
The crowd went wild, never noticing that he was fouled in the miles of tinsel someone had
foolishly festooned over the pole. How embarrassing -- and how fitting. He'd just sunk to a new
all-time low.

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How he'd dreaded this moment, this sealing of his fate. With his first step onstage, he was
officially a stripper, hammering the final nail in the coffin of a once-promising career. Instead of
twirling a tiny female in an off-Broadway production while dressed as a swan, he was slowly
peeling off a skin-tight T-shirt to reveal his freshly-shaved chest in a strip club, way, way, way,
way off Broadway. So far off Broadway that it would take a good long trip by car to get there.

Rude shouts of, "Take it off, baby!" brought him back to his sad reality. He wished the men were
quieter so he could at least pretend to be onstage in some major city, performing for a more
refined audience. In retaliation, he dropped to the floor in a full split, inspiring groans of
imagined pain from his all-male spectators.

Smoothing his hands down the legs of his costume, he discreetly thumbed open the side
fastenings and rose smoothly, leaving the pants behind. A casual kick launched them toward the
curtain for the stage hand to retrieve. Grasping the pole once more, he spun himself around,
giving those closest a gratuitous view of his ass, exposed by a skimpy, flesh-colored thong. His
only other clothing, if it could be called that, was a silk wrap on his calf, hardly visible in the low
light. If anyone noticed it, they'd just assume it was part of his costume. That is, if anyone even
bothered to look beyond his crotch or his ass. Lower and lower, he wound around the pole,
fighting tinsel the whole way, finally ending up back on the floor in a pile of cheap, glittering
plastic.

Once more visualizing himself a sleek predator stalking prey, he held onto his shredded dignity
as tightly as he could while crawling on hands and knees to the edge of the stage. Schooling his
features into what he hoped was a seductive smirk, he focused on those likely to be big tippers.
He paused a moment to search out the bouncers. Ah, there they were, in all their muscle-bound
glory, one at either end of the stage, ready to step in if he gave the signal. Confident that he was
protected, he slowly moved closer to the fists waving dollars in his direction.

The paper being shoved into his skimpy garment tickled and scratched. He tuned it all out,
keeping his eyes carefully on the customers' chins so he wouldn't see the lust in their eyes. If he
didn't look, he could more easily imagine that he wasn't the piece of meat they saw him as.
Groping hands traveled down his flanks and he turned what he hoped was a playful expression
on the offender, wagging a finger. That was the first warning. The customer would only get one
more before the bouncers escorted him out. At least that much he could say for this club: they
took care of their own, unlike some of the other places he'd auditioned for.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. An older, graying man held up a
twenty. Tony smiled seductively, crawling toward him, regretting that he hadn't turned his eyes
away more quickly. Bile rose in his throat at the man's superior sneer. That look said, "I could
pay for you; you're just a whore." Although he knew it wasn't true, it still stung that others
thought so. Swallowing the remnants of his pride, he reminded himself that it was a small price
to pay for the twenty that was going to be stuffed into his thong. At the last minute, the man
slipped the twenty back into his pocket, throwing back his head and laughing. That one sound
drowned out the music, the bawdy comments, everything. It grew louder and louder, until it was

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all he could hear. Tony's cheeks flamed in embarrassment, and he fought to keep his body
moving to the beat when all he really wanted to do was run away and hide in shame.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hip, pushing him down while invasive fingers wriggled beneath his
scanty attire and jammed brutally against his hole. Tony whirled on his attacker, only to find
man, hand, and fingers gone. Through the harsh glare of lights, he saw the crowd scrambling out
of the path of a bouncer, the big man dragging the offender across the floor and into the office.

A warm hand caught his arm and Tony jumped back in alarm, expecting another sweaty, leering
face. Instead, he saw his own reflection mirrored in a pair of dark glasses. Staring up at the
bouncer who looked to be carved from ice, Tony could easily imagine how he'd gotten his name:
Frost.

"Let's get you out of here," the bouncer shouted loudly enough to be heard over the chaos.

The muscular hunk handed Tony a robe, then climbed up to lead him off the stage. They shuffled
backstage as the music began again, this time an ensemble piece with multiple dancers -- a good
choice under the circumstances: safety in numbers and all that. The sharks had tasted blood and,
if they weren't careful, a feeding frenzy could ensue.

Tony expected his escort to leave him once they were backstage, but that firm grip only
tightened as co-workers besieged them, all talking at once.

"Oh, my God!" another dancer cried, rushing up with horror in his eyes. "Honey, I saw what
happened! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Tony said, even though he wasn't quite sure yet. It had all occurred so fast; he needed
time to sort it out.

More dancers surrounded them, joined by concerned waiters. The bouncer released his hold,
wrapping a beefy arm around Tony's shoulders instead, leading him away from the curious and
down the hall to the dressing room. When they entered, he barked, "Go find Rudy; we need this
room awhile."

Three young men, in various stages of costume and makeup, stared uncomprehending until an
exasperated, "Now!" shocked them into motion.

They shot out the door in quick succession, the last leaning in to leer and whisper, "Don't do
anything I wouldn't do."

When the room cleared, the bodyguard, Frost, finally moved his arm from around Tony’s
shoulders. Tony missed the warmth and security immediately. Normally, he didn't like to be
touched by strangers, but this big man's embrace felt so damned comfortable and reassuring. He
stood, looking up at his rescuer, whose eyes were still hidden behind dark glasses. Strange, he
couldn't recall ever seeing the man without them.

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Standing before him was a veritable mountain of muscle, well over six feet tall, with the widest
shoulders he'd had ever seen. A black T-shirt, ‘Security' written across the front, stretched tightly
over well-defined pecs and washboard abs. While the current style tended to favor loose-fitting
blue jeans, the bodyguard's were tightly stretched across bulging thighs. Black combat boots and
a black leather belt completed the ensemble. The man was exactly what he appeared to be --
hired muscle.

Letting his eyes rove back up over that incredible body, Tony swallowed hard when he got a
good look at the face that went with it. Sure, he'd seen Frost around during his week of
rehearsals, but never up close and personal. The thick, buzz-cut hair was white-blonde, and a
ragged scar marred one rugged cheek, adding an element of danger to an otherwise handsome
countenance. His eyes were still hidden by the glasses, but Tony imagined they'd be very light, in
keeping with the milk-white skin and light blond hair.

The harsh look softened and the edges of generous lips turned up in a near smile. "Are you all
right?" Frost asked. That deep voice washed over Tony like summer rain, warm, comforting, and
totally at odds with the cold, intimidating appearance.

Recalling with a jolt just why he was alone in the room with a vision straight from his fantasies,
Tony stammered. "I... I'm okay."

The bouncer pulled the dark glasses down, revealing glacial, ice-blue eyes. The man was literally
white, though not quite albino, not with eyes that color. Tony staggered under the impact of that
eerie gaze and the glasses quickly slipped back into place. "Sorry," Frost said. "I sometimes
forget the effect that has on people."

Still in shock, all Tony could do was look up and stare. Those distinctive eyes seemed familiar
somehow, but he just couldn't place why. It wasn't like they were easily forgettable.

A deep growl rumbled around that barrel-shaped chest before finally emerging. "You don't look
so good -- maybe you should sit down. Umm... you can sit, right? He didn't hurt you?" Anger
rolled off the big man in waves. "Asshole knew better than to touch. But don't worry about him;
he'll never be allowed back in here again."

So far, Tony's new career wasn't off to a promising start. On his very first night dancing, he'd
been accosted, and a patron barred because of it. Under the circumstances, it seemed bizarre, but
rather than dwell on the attack, all he could think about was getting that comforting arm back
around his shoulders. He'd never felt so safe as he had huddled beneath it.

A knock sounded on the door and Rudy, the night manager and closest thing they had to a house
doctor -- a nursing student working in the club to earn his way through school -- stepped in.
Keeping a polite distance, he approached cautiously, asking the same question Frost had. "Did he
hurt you?"

"No," Tony replied, shaking his head. "He just scared me, is all."

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"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" Rudy appeared genuinely concerned, and Tony
could easily imagine he'd make a great nurse someday. More quietly, for his ears only, Rudy
whispered, "Are you bleeding?"

For the first time, Tony allowed himself to seriously consider what had happened. Did he hurt?
Was he bleeding?

Rudy's eyebrows shot up in what the crew affectionately called his "Mom" look, and he pointed
toward the bathroom to the rear of the dressing area. "Go check."

Glancing at the two worried faces, Tony turned and made his way to the showers, feeling filthy
from crawling on the stage and being pawed by strange men. He counted out his tips and sighed.
All that for fifteen dollars. Then again, he still had time left in his set; maybe he would have
done better. He'd never know now.

He turned the water as warm as he could stand and stepped into the shower, futilely attempting to
wash away a bad night. He gently probed his abused hole, breathing a sigh of relief to find no
real pain.

"I'm fine," he announced when he re-entered the room, once more wrapped in his robe.

"Look, now that I know you're all right, I need to get back out there," Frost said. "You take care,
now."

Rudy waited one long moment after the door closed then said, "Wow, that's the most I've heard
Frost say, ever!"

Tony scrunched his brow. "His name isn't really Frost, is it?"

"Actually, his name is John Davis; you can guess why we call him Frost."

Yes, he could.

Changing the subject abruptly, Rudy asked, "So that asshole really didn't hurt you? You could
press charges for assault, you know."

That brought a sigh. "Look, Rudy, I'm practically naked, waving my ass in front of a bunch of
drunken morons. What could I expect?"

"Hey! Just because you're an exotic dancer doesn't mean anyone gets to disrespect you."

Sure, that was easy for Rudy to say; he was the night manager and got to keep his clothes on.

Rudy exhaled loudly and pulled a roll of forms from his back pocket, ushering Tony to a pair of
chairs sitting side by side. "I won't take much of your time," he began apologetically, "but I need
a report of what happened."

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Distancing himself from the event, Tony told as much as he could remember, leaving out the
humiliation and helplessness. Somehow he didn't think mere words could explain that part
accurately.

Securing Tony's signature at the bottom of the page, Rudy told him, "I'll get the bouncers to add
to this later, and they'll sign, as well. If you want to press charges, let me know. We'll all back
you on this. We run a clean club here."

Drawing further attention to himself and his plight was that last thing Tony wanted. He could see
the headlines now, "Former Ballet Star Attacked in Gay Bar," or something equally unflattering.
"No, Rudy. Only my pride's hurt. Security did their job."

"Well, you've had a rough night and your set is over. Why don't you go home and rest? Things
will look a whole lot brighter in the morning and you don't have to be back at work until
Monday."

Sadly, things wouldn't look brighter in the morning, or ever again. Alone in the world, deprived
of the one thing he truly loved -- ballet -- tomorrow would be just another lonely Christmas Eve.
How Tony had come to hate this time of year.

Suddenly someone pounded on the door. "Rudy! We need you out here!"

Rudy shook his head sadly. "Sorry, but duty calls. If you need me you know how to reach me,
right?"

Tony nodded. The whole shift had Rudy's number. They also knew he was going to spend the
holidays with his folks in Philly. That meant that it was okay to call if you needed him, but try
not to need him for a few days.

"Merry Christmas, Tony," Rudy said as he made his exit. Tony mumbled a reply, hoping it
sounded at least somewhat sincere.

He dressed quickly, amazed that the other dancers hadn't returned. Maybe Frost had warned
them away. Taking advantage of the privacy, he removed the wrap that covered his scars,
something he'd forgotten to do in the shower. Even after all this time, they were still pretty vivid,
and he hated for anyone to see them. The pity in their eyes was more than he could bear. Quickly
donning his socks and jeans in case any should enter, he pulled on his sweater and jacket,
shoving his measly tips into the pocket while he silently cursed the bastard who'd flashed the
twenty. There was a time when he’d left twenty dollar tips; now he had to save every dime.
Thankfully, the car that had hit him was insured, but only minimally, and the sum he'd been
awarded hardly covered his medical expenses. He'd learned early on that crying over what might
have been never got him anywhere; an attitude of "the show must go on" did.

He found his costume pants sitting on a chair, and shoved them into his backpack with the rest of
his gear while slipping into his shoes. Finally ready to brave the cold, he hefted his pack and took

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a final look around to make sure nothing was forgotten. When he left the room, no one
approached him, though a few gave him sympathetic looks as they went about their business. So
they had been warned, then. Far from being upset at Frost's presumptuousness, Tony was
relieved. He'd not been there long enough to make any friends, and in clubs like this, it was hard
to know who was genuine and who'd stab you in the back. That was one of the few things that
hadn't changed from his former glory days -- divas were divas, no matter where they lived.

He'd just stepped out the back door when a shadow separated itself from the wall and shuffled
closer. Even in the near-dark, Frost's pale face glowed like pearl, though the rest of him was
hidden beneath layers of dark clothing. Tony was either extremely safe with his own personal
bodyguard or in really deep shit, standing in a deserted alley with a man twice his size.

"Mind if I walk you home?" Frost asked pleasantly.

Now that he thought of it, walking home this late at night, alone, probably wasn't his best idea.
Everyone at the club talked nonstop about everyone else, but so far, he'd never heard anything
bad about this man, other than the fact that most of the dancers thought he was hot -- and
unobtainable.

Apparently, Frost took the silence as a "no." "If you'd rather not..." he began, turning to leave.

"I think I'd like that a lot!" Tony blurted, unwilling to let the man walk away.

"Oh, yeah?" A smile appeared, even, white teeth against a paler background. That burly arm that
had felt so safe and secure wrapped around Tony's shoulders again. Frost, for all his dangerous
vibe, seemed very tactile. Time stood still and Tony didn't care if he ever left the alley. His
apartment was just that -- an apartment, but right here, right now, was the closest to "home" that
he'd been in a long, long time. It felt good.

A blanket of white stretched out before them when they left the alleyway. Judging by the scarcity
of foot prints, the snow had been falling hard for some time. They walked in silence, huddled
together to ward off the cold, and when they turned the corner, Tony stopped, looking up at Frost
in shock. "How do you know where I live?"

That strong arm tightened around him, but it wasn't menacing, just reassuring. "Don't worry, I'm
harmless. I know a lot about you, Anthony, but that isn't a bad thing."

Tony knew he should be scared, but for some unfathomable reason, he wasn't. There was an
honesty about Frost that just made Tony want to trust him. They approached the building and,
surprisingly, his escort didn't have to ask for his pass key to get in. "I live a floor above you,"
Frost explained, a half smile playing across his full lips.

How had Tony missed a walking wet dream living just one floor above him? Answering the
unvoiced question, Frost explained, "I work a lot; I'm almost never home. I only learned a month
ago that you lived here." Face averted as he opened the door, he added, "You never talked when
you were rehearsing at the club, so..."

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Well, Tony certainly would have talked to Frost if he hadn't seemed so standoffish! As Rudy had
pointed out earlier, the man wasn't exactly outgoing, and Tony had been told dancers weren't
encouraged to get friendly with the rest of the staff. Then again, the source of that information
wasn't exactly reliable.

"I'm sorry," Tony replied. "The truth is, I'm still feeling a little out of place there." Suddenly it
occurred to him what Frost had said earlier. "You called me Anthony," he said accusingly,
jumping back and glaring. "No one's called me Anthony since..."

The big man sighed. "Since your accident, I know. Look, I'd like a chance to talk to you. Would
you come up to my place for coffee?"

The last thing Tony wanted was a muddling of his old life and new. He'd buried his past and
damned well wanted it to stay buried. If this man knew of it, how many others did? If there was
anyone from his past who still gave a rat's ass about him, why had he been alone since that
fateful day?

"Look, I promise all I want to do is talk."

Rationally, if Frost intended to harm Tony, he could have done so easily a million times by now.
"Okay," Tony replied, "we'll talk."

He grew a bit nervous when they by-passed the elevator in favor of the stairs and his hackles
rose, worrying his neighbor and coworker was a stalker. Only someone who'd been studying him
could know of his aversion to elevators. Frost's hasty confession was reassuring. "Sorry, but after
spending so much time in a tank in Afghanistan, I'm a little claustrophobic. You can take the
elevator if you want, and meet me on the fifth floor."

"That's okay. Actually, I prefer the stairs myself."

They climbed in silence, his leg protesting slightly, and then walked down the hall side by side.
Frost opened the door and they entered the apartment directly above his own. It may have had
the same lay-out, but it was decorated much differently, nearly Spartan in its furnishings, unlike
his cozy, throw-pillow-infested dwelling. Frost took their coats to hang in the hall closet before
removing his sunglasses and placing them on a small table nearby.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Light hurts my eyes," he explained, "especially the ones onstage. I
don't see how you dancers stand it."

Opening his mouth and inserting his foot, Tony blurted, "I though you wore them to keep from
freaking people out."

"That, too," his host replied with a laugh.

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Cheeks flaming hotly, Tony stammered an apology, "Gee, I'm sorry; I didn't mean that the way it
sounded.

Frost's smile never dimmed. "That's okay, I'm used to it," he said.

Not knowing what else to say, Tony took the opportunity to look around the living and kitchen
areas, comparing them to his own. Apparently the big man liked comfort over function and style.
A small Christmas tree stood in one corner, a handful of ornaments making it look tragic rather
than festive. Still, it was more than Tony had. An image of his last Christmas tree popped into
Tony’s head. He'd splurged and had it professionally decorated, a luxury he could no longer
afford. Hell, he couldn't even afford a tree at all this year.

Shaking his head to clear the memory, he told himself, "Don't look back," returning to the here
and now.

A huge, comfortable-looking but ugly brown couch took up far too much space in the living
room, and a black beanbag sat next to it. He jumped when it moved on its own, the shock turning
to delight when a pointed nose emerged, followed by the long, black and tan body of a
Dachshund. It waddled over on its short legs, engaged in an energetic fully-body wag.

Frost crouched down to the floor, taxing the seams in his tight blue jeans, an eager child-like grin
on his face. "Come to Papa, Oscar!" he said, patting one massive leg.

"Oscar?"

Looking up from scratching the grateful dog's ears, Frost explained, "My sister named him.
Oscar is the littermate of her dog, Mayer."

"Oscar and Mayer? Your sister named Dachshunds Oscar and Mayer?"

That broad smile dimmed. "Well, mentally she's only about thirteen," he replied.

Tony felt uncomfortable, sensing he'd strayed to a taboo topic. Reaching down to pat the dog
affectionately, he ventured, "She obviously has her brother wrapped around her finger." The guy
liked dogs and had a sister he adored. He couldn't be that bad, right? Then again, he was
gorgeous and Tony was lonely, so Tony still opted to proceed with caution; that hot body was
likely clouding his judgment.

"Well, yeah," Frost agreed, rising from the floor and brushing dog hair from his thighs. Oscar
sniffed around Tony's shoes for a moment then, apparently satisfied, returned to his bed.

"Does he need to be walked?" Tony asked. It was cold out, but somehow, the image of the two of
them walking the dog together made him feel warm.

"Nah, I pay a kid down on third to see to it. He'll be fine until morning."

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Tony watched in amusement as the dog settled onto its back, wriggling until it was all but buried
in the chair.

"Here she is," Frost said quietly, coming up from behind him. When Tony stood and turned he
saw a picture of a young woman in a wheelchair, with familiar pale eyes and slightly darker skin,
wearing a beatific smile. His blood ran cold, for kneeling next to her, smiling just as broadly,
was a young male dancer in costume and full makeup -- himself, just two years ago.

He stared in horror. That night had been his biggest triumph and his biggest tragedy. His career
had peaked just hours before it ended in a squall of burning rubber and screeching metal.

Frost returned the picture to the coffee table, smiling happily at whatever memories it provoked.
"I sent money home for tickets to the Nutcracker; they were my Christmas present and Julie was
over the moon. Then she met you. You were all she talked about for weeks after this," he said,
nodding his head at the picture. "You were so kind, letting her and my aunt backstage like that,
even though you didn't have to."

Tony remembered that night like it was yesterday. Still high from a stunning performance in his
first major role, his only thought had been going out after the show to celebrate his success. He'd
even had a promising prospect for a bed partner lined up. No matter who complemented or
congratulated him, however, they paled in comparison to the young, mentally challenged woman
who'd reached up from her wheelchair to hand him a wilted red rose. Despite her handicap, she
had the most beautiful eyes and smile. Suddenly nothing else had seemed important but the
young woman who was quite possibly his biggest fan.

He'd taken her and her aunt backstage, showed them the props, and let Julie try an extra
headdress from the show. It was then that the aunt had snapped that picture, the picture that a
tough bouncer was now staring at as if it were gold.

"Aunt Estelle tried to find you after that, to thank you," Frost said. "No matter how many times
she called or stopped by, no one would tell her anything. You simply vanished."

"Well, there was a reason for that," Tony explained. "After I left that night..."

"I know. You were crossing the road and hit a patch of ice. I saw the article in the papers. I sent
my aunt money to send flowers, by the way, but you'd been moved from Mercy General by
then."

How desperately Tony wished he could have gotten those flowers, even from a stranger. In those
dark days following his accident, any ray of sunshine would have been welcome. "Why?"

Those hauntingly pale eyes turned to him, questioning. "Why what?"

"Why did you care? I did one small kindness for your sister, but she did a far bigger one for me.
Everyone there saw me as just a male lead, or the role I played. She called me by my name, like I
was her friend and not just a body in the right costume who could dance a little. You have no

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idea how much that meant to me." Tony wrapped his arms around himself and gazed at the floor,
shivering at the memory of what he'd once been.

Tony suddenly found himself enveloped in a hug, those arms so warm and comforting. "Julie
collected news clippings about you; you were her favorite celebrity. You can't imagine what life
is like for her. Reading about you, watching you dance, made her happy. A guy from our home
town, making the big time. It was like a fairy tale for her."

Sheltered in those wonderful arms, Tony blushed and shook his head. "Hardly a celebrity."

"To her you are: that's all that matters."

Well, there was no arguing with that logic, he supposed. Still... "So why is it that I find myself
here with you? You don't strike me as much of a ballet fan."

That warm body pulled back, those fire and ice eyes boring into his, paralyzing him. "Julie sent
that picture to me when I was in the service. During long, lonely months all I had was that
picture, and this one."

Frost turned away, retrieving another photograph from a drawer in an end table: the publicity
shot taken for that performance. Even Tony had to admit how young and carefree he looked:
long dark curls framing his slightly oval face, eyes dark against olive skin. It occurred to him
how striking he and Frost must look together, a contrast of darkness and light, warm and cold.

"I was in Afghanistan with my unit, hiding who and what I was. They had girlfriends to write
and think about coming home to. I envied them even while they questioned why I didn't have
pictures of my own to show around. When Julie sent those pictures, it was a godsend, because no
one was going to question me for indulging my sister's obsession." Voice lowered to a mere
whisper, he added, "Even if they didn't know that you became my obsession, too.

"When I came home, she showed me the clippings of your accident and begged me to find you. I
really tried, but it seemed you'd dropped off the face of the earth.

"Then one day, I came downstairs to check my mail and there you were, talking on your cell
phone. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was awake."

Tony was shocked. This perfect specimen of masculinity had looked for him? "Well, I supposed
meeting me in the flesh is quite the disappointment, then," he replied quietly.

Frost looked at him liked he'd lost his mind. "Are you kidding? You have no idea how much I
talked to you, the secrets I shared that I couldn't tell anyone else. You could have been a total
jerk in the flesh and I'd still have to thank you for that. Those were dark days, and having a
handsome man to dream about saved my sanity many times."

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What could he possibly say to that? Being surrounded by fans and autograph seekers just
couldn't compare to knowing that just by existing he'd helped a young soldier get through his
day.

"That's part of the reason I never approached you before. If you didn't know me, you couldn't
reject me." A sheepish look crept up Frost's face, and he chewed his bottom lip anxiously. "I
have a little confession to make."

Tony gazed up at him expectantly.

"Um, I hope you don't think I'm a stalker or anything, but I couldn't help overhear you talking on
the phone that day." That pale face was sad now. "You were talking to Andy Garrison about a
job."

"Well, yeah," Tony replied. "I had an interview with him."

Frost once again abused his full lower with his teeth. "Well, that's the thing. Avante Garde isn't
the kind of place you should be working. Hell, the club isn't either, but at least it's better than
Garrison's place."

Tony was confused. "That's hardly a confession," he said.

"No, but this is: since I knew you were looking for a job and that the club needed a dancer, I kind
of left that flyer on the bulletin board in the lobby hoping you'd find it and come there. At least
then I could look out for you." Frost's hands were shoved into his pockets and he rocked back on
his heels, looking like a man expecting the worst.

"I don't know what to say, Frost," Tony confessed. "Thank you. I really needed a job, and the
club pays pretty well."

"Johnny."

"What?"

"My friends call me Johnny; they only call me Frost at work." Frost grinned then. "It helps with
the intimidation factor."

"Yeah, I can see how it would," Tony replied with a grin of his own. "Only it'll never work with
me again, because I know your secret."

"My secret?"

"The prickly porcupine has a soft underbelly -- you're a sucker for your sister and your dog."

"That's not all I'm a sucker for," Frost said. One minute they were standing there talking, the next
Tony's mouth was being expertly plundered. It had been far too long, and Frost, er... Johnny was

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exactly the kind of man Tony found attractive -- rugged and dependable. Someone he felt safe
with.

When they parted, Johnny said, "I'm sorry ‘bout that. I feel I've known you for years, yet you've
just met me. After what happened at the club tonight..."

Tony shut Frost up the best way he knew how, rising up on his toes and sealing their lips back
together. Johnny moaned, pulling closer.

"Mmmphhh!" was all Tony managed as he was slammed into that massive chest and kissed until
his cock was hard and throbbing, begging for more. Without thinking, he wriggled against one
muscular thigh, seeking friction and release.

"Are you sure?" Johnny mumbled against his mouth.

For such a big, scary guy, Frost sure had his timid moments. Tony grabbed the man's hand and
brought it down to his groin, removing all doubts as to how sure he was.

A chuckle rumbled from that broad chest. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Never breaking the kiss, they
fumbled and groped their way down the hall, where presumably, they'd find a convenient bed.

The room they entered was very masculine and the flip of a switch bathed it in the soft glow of a
bedside lamp. Tony was willing to bet the imposing four-poster was antique. A big bed for a big
man. A comforter of rich blue satin covered it, the top folded down invitingly to reveal sheets
just a few shades lighter. With his ice-blue eyes and pale skin, Johnny would look magnificent
stretched out on it, wearing nothing but a smile. Well, at least the smile was already there.

Warm hands slipped slowly beneath Tony’s shirt, rolling it up to reveal his shaved, dancer's
build. His body was toned, but not nearly as bulky as Johnny's, revealed a few seconds later
when that tight, black T-shirt landed on the floor.

Unlike his own smooth chest, Johnny's sported a thick patch of nearly transparent hair. The
newly-exposed skin was pale, with several darker splotches, and Tony finally realized the truth,
seeing the full effect of the vitiligo that was slowly destroying the pigment, leaving Johnny's skin
so strangely pale.

Johnny squirmed, obviously uncomfortably with the scrutiny. When he reached out to grab his
shirt, a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. "You are absolutely beautiful," Tony said, fully
meaning every word. Though his skin, eyes, and hair may have looked carved from ice, Johnny
was the one of the warmest human beings Tony had ever met.

"Does it hurt?" Tony asked quietly.

Johnny shook his head. "Not physically, but when I was younger it was more noticeable, before
all the exposed parts evened out." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Kids can be cruel."

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"Yes, they can," Tony replied, remembering his own days of hiding from the school bully who'd
taunted him for studying ballet. He let his eyes speak for him, staring up into Johnny's icy blues
while his fingers deftly worked open Johnny's belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his snug jeans.
Johnny stepped back and untied his boots, pulling them off and tossing them in a corner,
followed a moment later by the jeans. The firm flesh hidden behind his light blue boxer briefs
made Tony's mouth water. Apparently, that pale body was built in perfect proportion, and Tony
fully believed he'd hit the jackpot when his new neighbor'd invited him up.

Kicking off his loafers, Tony made short work of his own jeans. He wore nothing underneath.
Though not nearly as big, he was every bit as aroused as Johnny. For a moment, the old self-
consciousness surfaced and he attempted to hide his mangled leg behind the other, but seeing
that two-toned, splotchy skin gave him courage. What some might call imperfection, Tony
thought added interest. Perhaps Johnny felt the same.

They took their time, drinking in the sight of each other before Tony could no longer resist and
dropped to his knees, nuzzling Johnny's cock through its thin covering. The scent filling his
nostrils was clean, with just a hint of male muskiness. Mouthing the thickness through the cotton
caused a wet spot at the tip, and he gently rolled the elastic down over the thick length a little at a
time, teasing them both with the anticipation of what was to come.

Johnny's cock was full, thick, and circumcised, unlike Tony's own uncut length. Purpled veins
bulged from the underside and Tony followed them up from the base with his tongue. Rewarded
by a heady moan, he repeated the motion several times before opening wide and slipping the
broad head into his mouth. He almost came when the nearly forgotten taste of a man hit his
tongue. Alone since his accident, he really missed having a hard cock in his mouth.

Each pleasured moan was music to his ears. Just knowing he could still please a man this way
did wonders for his ego, and Johnny was very vocal in his appreciation, hissing, "Oh, yeah!" and
"right there!" and other sounds that hardly classified as words. A strangled protest came when
Tony removed his lips. Lust-glazed eyes stared out at him from beneath heavy lids -- it wouldn't
take much to send Johnny over the edge.

Leading him closer to the bed, one hard push to that sculpted chest silently communicated Tony's
intentions. Johnny collapsed onto the bed, looking puzzled, but allowed himself to be bent into
position and artfully arranged like some modern art sculpture. Tony stepped back to admire the
view.

That pale skin seemed even paler against a sea of two-toned blue. Never had the name Frost
suited the man more. Now Tony knew just how deceiving appearances could be, for Johnny was
anything but the cold, aloof beauty he appeared to be at the club. Even in their short
acquaintance, he was proving to be caring, loving... and impatient.

"If you're finished looking, you could join me here," Johnny said, rolling his eyes and drumming
his fingers against his belly.

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Tony didn't need to be asked twice. "I thought you'd never ask... err... demand," he replied with a
playful smirk. Then the smoldering look in those pale, pale eyes robbed him of speech. Crawling
up on hands and knees from the foot of the bed, careful not to break that gaze, he lowered his
head and nipped lightly at Johnny's thighs, working his way higher. That huge cock he'd tried so
hard to take beckoned him closer, pulsing with every heartbeat. He loved sucking cock, and in
Johnny's, he might have found the perfect specimen. Spreading his lips wide, he took the crown
in, finally breaking eye contact to focus on the task at hand.

"So good," Johnny moaned, hips pushing up enthusiastically.

Smiling around his mouthful, Tony grasped those thick thighs, holding them in place. He worked
the underside of that fat cock with the flat of his tongue, taking in as much as he could, his own
throbbing wantonly against a lightly-furred leg.

A huge hand gently palmed his skull, urging him on without forcing him. Tony pulled off and
began crawling up all that muscle. He teased a tiny pink nipple with his tongue and teeth before
working his way to the darker side of Johnny's chest. The nipple there was darker, too -- almost
brown. The distortion in pigment didn't keep either one from pebbling nice and hard. Back and
forth he went between the two, light and dark, before licking a path upward to suck lightly on
Johnny's thick neck. Warm hands gripped his ass, hurrying him along. Finally, sparing an
amused smile for Johnny's wild-eyed, frantically passionate expression, Tony lowered his mouth,
taking a plump lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently. The hands on his ass tightened
and kneaded rhythmically, pulling him closer while Johnny thrust up, grinding their cocks
together.

Oh, that felt good and he rewarded Johnny with a toe-curling kiss, pouring everything he had
into it, repaying thrust for thrust until he couldn't take it any more. "No!" he huffed breathlessly,
"I want to come with you in me!"

Johnny stilled, panting harshly against Tony's neck. "I can do that," he said. "Are you sure you
weren't hurt tonight?"

Tony grinned. "Since you don't want to take my word for it, maybe you should check for
yourself."

"Give me a minute," Johnny said, crawling past him to get to the bedside table, reaching inside to
pull out a tube of lube and a pack of condoms. He placed them on the bed then sat back, eyes
roaming down Tony's body, followed by his hands.

Tony jerked and tried to pull away when those fingers brushed his scars. "Do you trust me?"
Johnny asked.

There was surprising warmth in those icy eyes, and Tony found himself nodding. He lay back
and allowed Johnny to explore his damaged leg. "Does it hurt?" Johnny asked.

"Sometimes."

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Warm lips brushed his scars, sending a chill up his spine. Those scars were hideous reminders of
what might have been; never had he expected someone to look at them with such reverence.

"Whatever happens to us in life contributes to where and what we are," Johnny said. "While I'm
sorry the accident ended your career, I could never regret being here with you now."

It was the most incredibly heartwarming thing he'd ever heard, and the sappiest. Still, there was
truth in those words. And like Johnny's splotched skin, Tony's scars were a part of him. A part
that, apparently, Johnny accepted. "Johnny?" he asked.

"Mmm?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

He was suddenly flipped onto his belly on a pile of pillows, a slick finger probing his entrance,
though too tentatively for his tastes. Apparently, his gentle giant was still worried. Well, he knew
only one way prove he truly wasn't hurt, and he pushed back, moaning as Johnny's finger
breeched him. It felt amazing and he lifted his ass higher, silently begging for more.

A chuckle followed a playful swat to his ass. Then those hands left his skin and he heard the foil
on the condom being torn -- a welcome sound. Slick fingers caressed his entrance, then plunged
inside, twisting slightly, stretching him. While he appreciated the sentiment, it was something he
didn't really need -- he loved the burn.

One thick arm appeared by Tony's head as Johnny braced his weight and lined up his cock. Lips
pressed against the nape of Tony's neck, and he heard a muffled grunt when he was breached,
Johnny's cock feeling every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined it would. Moaning as he stretched,
he couldn't imagine a better way to end his sexual dry spell than with this gorgeous hunk of man
who was filling him so completely, slowly inching into him. Though obviously trying to support
the bulk of his weight on his arms, Johnny was draped over him like a heavy blanket.

All the while, kisses, nips, and nibbles rained down on Tony's neck and shoulders. Finally, at
long last, Johnny stopped. Pushing back experimentally, Tony's ass brushed his lover's wiry
pubic hair. Oh, wow! Every bit of that huge cock was inside him! He'd never felt so completely
filled. Just when it became a bit uncomfortable, Johnny pulled back, easing almost completely
out before plunging back in. "Damn, but you feel good," Johnny moaned, "so tight."

Too far gone to form words, Tony answered with actions, pushing back, begging for more with
every pant and groan.

Johnny pushed in far too slowly, then drew back slower still until Tony thought he'd lose his
mind. "Please, Johnny!" On the brink and hovering, he desperately needed more. "Stop holding
back!" Tony shouted, grinding his ass against Johnny's cock.

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That seemed to break the iron-clad control and Johnny pushed in frantically, hitting spots inside
never before touched. How had he lived all his life without ever knowing pleasure like this?
Harder and faster, they moved together, Tony grinding his impatient cock into the pillows
beneath him, until a large, calloused hand reached around to grab him roughly, working him in
time with their unsteady thrusts.

An open-mouthed scream was muffled by pillows as he came, spurting endlessly. Feeling
boneless, he relaxed his body, concentrating on feeling his lover inside him, until one rather
aggressive thrust pushed in and stilled, the latex sheath that separated them filling. Johnny
collapsed off to the side, saving Tony from the bulk of his weight. He rolled off the bed, saying,
"I'll be back in a minute."

A moment later, he returned, gently turning and wiping Tony clean with a warm, damp cloth.

"That was..." Tony began.

"Yeah, it was," Johnny finished for him, climbing into bed to snuggle close, pulling the covers
over them both.

They lay catching their breath, fingers idly wandering wherever they would. The clock by the
bed showed 2:03 a.m.

"Johnny?"

A sleepy, "Hmm?" rumbled against his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas."

Johnny eased up to look at the clock. "Well, yes, it is. Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"You still owe me coffee."

The entire bed shook when Johnny laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do," he finally admitted, asking a
moment later, "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's a bit late to ask, but do you have plans for Christmas?"

"If that's an invite, I do now," he replied.

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Drifting to sleep, safely wrapped in his new lover's arms, a scratching beside the bed woke him.
The comforting weight against his back disappeared, returning a moment later. A small, warm
body wriggled down between them, plunking down at the foot of the bed with a satisfied sigh.
Tony knew just how Oscar felt.

***

Somehow the gaudy decorations around the bar seemed less cheap and the gold tinsel draped
around the pole looked positively festive. Tony grinned. Everything looked better to him tonight
and, for the first time since he'd gotten this job, he was eager to take the stage, pacing like a
caged tiger until the familiar strains of his set announced it was time.

He pranced onto the stage with his head high, more confident than he'd been even at the height of
his career. The jeers and catcalls fell on deaf ears as he grabbed the pole and swung around,
coming away with a rope of tinsel playfully draped over one shoulder. Tonight, he pulled out all
the stops, showing exactly what he was made of, for tonight was a mating dance and he intended
to take home the prize.

The club employed plenty of beautiful dancers and he was going to be the best -- determined to
give anything he did his all. He owed it to his fans. No, not the sweating, leering men with their
fists full of dollars, but the young handicapped woman, her family, and their matching dogs for
whom he danced on Christmas Day, or as much as he could, full of turkey and dressing. In a tiny
living room in the suburbs, furniture pushed to one side, he'd once more been the prince in The
Nutcracker. If his enthusiastic audience noticed his movements were stiffer than they used to be,
they kept their opinions to themselves. Yesterday, he'd danced for Julie, today for her brother,
who even now looked on from the edge of the stage, keeping a watchful eye from behind dark
glasses.

The men screaming his name and yelling "take it off!" were nothing, not even a blip on his radar.
The one for whom he danced wasn't huddled near the stage trying to cop a feel. No, he was
standing in the shadows, a study of darkness and light, waiting until the lights fell to claim what
was his.

When they did fall and the crowd departed, Tony bundled up and waited by the back door.
Heavy footsteps crossed the hall and a warm hand found his. "C'mon," Johnny said. "Let's go
home."

Home. Tony liked the sound of that.

A Torquere Press Holiday Sip - 18

Tinsel and Frost

Copyright © 2009 by Eden Winters

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / December 2009

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX
78680

A Torquere Press Holiday Sip - 19