Cervena

By Louise Lyons

When Joel Jones finds homeless Russian, Sasha, outside his gay nightclub in Prague, he cannot find it in his heart to turn him away, so he offers him a home and a job as a dancer and stripper.

Despite a fifteen-year age gap, romance develops between them, but is interrupted when Joel has to return to England for many weeks to deal with a death in the family.

Upon Joel's return, he is horrified to discover his business partner, Karel, has gambled away the club's money and put them all at risk. Joel buys him out of the club, but when Karel continues to gamble, the people he owes pursue Joel for the debt instead—and they'll stop at nothing to get paid.

Suddenly Joel and those he cares about—especially Sasha—are in danger, and Joel finds himself with no choice but to seek the help of known criminal, Vincenc Jankovic. Ensuring a happy future for himself and Sasha will mean a struggle and some difficult decisions, but Joel is determined to protect what they've built together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyons
• Release date: Jan 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005299842

Louise Lyons

I'm a gay romance author from the UK, having started in my late teens writing Fanfiction with a number of different films/TV series for inspiration. My reviews prompted me to try publishing some works and my first book was released in 2014. Since then, I've published several novels and novellas, and a collection of short stories.Most of the books published through official publishing channels have now had the rights returned to me for various reasons, so I'm re-issuing them myself.

Book preview

Červenà

by

Louise Lyons

COPYRIGHT

Červenà © 2022 Louise Lyons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Chapter One

Pulling the collar of my overcoat up around my ears, I stepped outside. My breath steamed in the icy air, and for a moment, I considered taking a taxi. Quickly dismissing the idea, I set off on foot. The walk between my block of condos and the nightclub was less than a mile, and the exercise was good for my awkward right leg. Cold, damp weather caused me discomfort and stiffness, relieved only by keeping my leg moving as much as possible.

I strode along the street and cut across Wenceslas Square. Already feeling the chill, I thrust my hands deep into my pockets. Only that morning I’d received an e-mail from my sister in London, telling me how warm the weather was there. Rosalyn had been planning to take my little niece, Rachael, to London Zoo.

I knew I ought to try to get home more often. Our mother hadn’t been well, and I’d already flown back three times this year. The final time had been only two weeks earlier, when Mum had been admitted to hospital after a suspected minor heart attack. As strong and determined as she was, she insisted we continue as normal rather than spend our time fussing around her and worrying.

My family occupied my thoughts as I walked along the dark streets flanked by an assortment of tall buildings—hotels, bars, apartment buildings, and offices. Despite the late hour, people bustled along the main thoroughfares, most in pairs or groups, likely heading for pubs and clubs. Chatter in a range of languages from Czech to English to French filled my ears, occasionally drowned out by the rattle and roar of a tram. The city centre hummed with life no matter the hour or the chilly season.

I quickly reached—Červenà, the nightclub I jointly owned with my Czech business partner. Gay men flocked to see Červenà’s performers, get on the dance floor, and enjoy the extensive range of cocktails. The private areas reserved for lap dances were rarely empty, and the five permanent dancers lived in the studios on the top floor of the building. Entering via the side door, I checked my wristwatch and noted it was fifteen minutes before opening time. I’d always made a point of being on the premises during business hours if possible. I liked to make my presence known, to support the staff and dancers. My partner Karel’s attendance was more intermittent, but he was usually there on Saturday nights, propping up the bar and encouraging the patrons to book lap dances.

The club was my pride and joy, built up from nothing over many months of hard work. I stood a little way from the door, taking a moment to gaze up at the building with a smile—a habit that had formed over the years. The ancient stone façade glowed red beneath the lit sign above the entrance, beckoning clubgoers to enter. The city offered many popular nightspots, but Červenà’s reputation had gradually lifted it to the forefront of Europe’s gay scene.

I passed the dancers’ dressing room as I made my way to my office and paused at the door to greet the boys. Marek and Tomáš sat in front of the mirrors, applying makeup, while Andĕl and František wriggled into impossibly tight glittery outfits.

Evening, boys. After ten years, it had become more natural to me to speak Czech than English, much to Rosalyn’s amusement. She often teased me when we spoke, claiming my English had become accented.

Hi, Joel, four voices chorused.

Where’s Bohdan tonight?

Running late again, Tomáš answered. He’ll be down in time for his first podium.

Okay, see you later, then. Have a good night. Leaving them to get ready, I continued to my office.

The club was in full swing before I ventured out again, the bass of a dance track vibrating through the building. I headed for the bar to get a beer and greet Karel. As usual he was already tipsy and had a skimpily dressed blond boy draped over his lap.

Karel. I nodded at him as Pavel the bar manager passed me my usual light beer.

Joel. Where’ve you been?

Checking the books. It’s busy in here tonight. It was always packed on Saturdays, but there seemed to be more going on than usual.

We had a bachelor party waiting at the door. Twelve guys from your homeland, my friend. Karel gestured with his cocktail to a crowd on the dance floor. The pair wearing the devil horns are the grooms.

I looked at the noisy, jostling crowd, some of whom had found other boys to dance with. The revellers were easy to spot, with their matching white T-shirts showing a printed picture of two grooms on a wedding cake. I stayed at the bar while I sipped my beer, trying not to pay too much attention to Karel as he pawed the boy on his lap. The man was my friend, but he was crude and lecherous, and he liked his men much younger than I thought appropriate. Karel thought me old-fashioned and couldn’t see what my problem was, as long as they were legal.

When I’d finished my drink, I took a walk around, greeted a couple of the security guys, and wandered upstairs onto the balcony. Looking down at the podium, I was able to watch František performing, surrounded by an excited crowd of men. Fran was down to a tiny silver jockstrap, which barely held everything in, gyrating and shimmying on the small stage. Even from my distance, I saw the flutter of bills sticking out of the elastic straps of the jock. I watched until the end of the dance, then continued on my way, passing couples kissing and touching on the comfortable leather seats around the perimeter. I made my way down the stairs at the other end of the balcony and scanned the bar area. Karel and his blond had disappeared, probably into the restrooms.

I slipped through one of the doors into the rear of the club and passed the dressing room again. Fran marched by me, already counting his tips, and crowing to the others. Bohdan had joined them, and Andĕl was getting ready to head out for his first turn on the podium. After giving the boys a smile and a thumbs up, I went into the kitchen to make coffee. I flicked on the light and closed the door to drown out most of the music. A sound from outside the window startled me and I almost knocked over the coffee jar. The noise could have been a lid from one of the metal bins crashing to the ground, but I wanted to check to be sure. Frowning, I unlocked the outer door, which led from the kitchen into the small back yard.

Who’s there? I took a step outside, peering into the darkness. The light from the kitchen window didn’t reach to the corners of the yard. There was no answer and I wondered if the disturbance had merely been a cat. A movement to the left where the bins stood caught my attention. Hey! What are you doing? I charged forward and a figure rose to its feet, hands held at shoulder level, as if I were aiming a gun.

A young man edged toward me, dark shaggy hair framing a pale face, the lower half covered by a patchy beard. A homeless beggar no doubt, looking for scraps of food. Winter was a tough time of year for these types, and I was a soft touch. Do you want something to eat?

He stared at me blankly.

Can you understand me?

He shrugged. I tried English instead. The many visitors from different countries had made me used to the frequent language barrier, but most people could speak at least some English. Can I help? Do you want something to eat?

I’m sorry. I wasn’t stealing. Only taking what you were throwing away. He spoke fluently, but with a strong accent that could have been Russian.

It’s all right. I’m not angry. Will you come inside? I’ll get you something better to eat than scraps.

He looked at the open door, his expression one of longing. Please.

Moving aside, I ushered him toward the door and smiled wryly. Karel wouldn’t be impressed if he were around. He thought I was too nice, and that beggars should be kicked into the gutter where they belonged.

Shivering, I hurried back into the kitchen and closed the door. I’d left my coat in the office, and my casual suit and open-necked shirt offered little protection against the cold. The young man’s long threadbare coat, its buttons missing, covered a thin jacket. Beneath that a couple of shirt collars and something knitted were visible. His loose jogging bottoms revealed a denim cuff at the bottom of one leg, indicating he wore jeans underneath, and worn hiking boots with broken laces covered his feet. The black hair framing his thin face was unkempt and in need of a cut. His beautiful green eyes, striking in their intensity, showed a mixture of fear and gratitude. I paused for a long moment, unable to look away, before I turned to open the fridge.

We didn’t keep a great deal of supplies in there, but there was bread, cold meat, cheese, and tomatoes. I made some thick sandwiches and retrieved a second mug to make coffee for him. He stared at the sandwiches hopefully but made no move to take one.

They’re for you. Go ahead. I pushed the plate along the counter to him.

Thank you. He crammed as much food into his mouth as he could manage, struggling to chew the enormous bite. The man was starving, and I imagined his body would be painfully thin under the layers of clothing.

You should take your coat off. It’s warm in here and it’ll feel worse when you go outside again.

Hm. He nodded, still chewing, and shrugged out of the long coat. It fell to the floor in a heap, and I fought not to wrinkle my nose at the smell of stale body odor.

I didn’t speak again until he’d finished the sandwiches and gulped the coffee. I poured a refill and passed it to him. What’s your name?

Uh, it’s, um— He frowned as if considering what to tell me. Sasha, he finished eventually.

I’m Joel. Where are you from, Sasha?

Kaliningrad. In Russia.

Your English is pretty good. But you don’t speak Czech?

Not yet. But I can learn. English is my third language. Polish second.

I’m impressed. I smiled but he didn’t return it. What are you doing in Prague?

Looking for work.

How old are you?

Twenty; almost twenty-one.

And what type of work do you do?

Anything. He shrugged one shoulder. Do you have something I could do?

Looking him up and down again, I considered whether under the ratty clothes, facial hair, and grime, he had the look of a dancer. Again, my gaze was drawn to his stunning eyes, and the defined cheekbones under his beard, and I knew he’d look good on the podium. Karel and I had recently discussed taking on another dancer. Bohdan was sometimes unreliable, and I got the impression he was looking for alternative employment. Karel wouldn’t want to pick up a homeless kid off the street and offer him a job, but mostly I dealt with the hiring and firing anyway.

Can you dance?

Yes. I love dancing.

Look, I can’t promise anything, but I might have something for you. Do you know what kind of club this is?

Sasha nodded. For gay men.

And we have dancers to entertain the crowds. Strippers.

Yes.

And you’d consider that?

Yes.

I had to wonder whether Sasha was so desperate he’d agree to anything, but I decided if I watched him dance with the crowd, rather than on a podium, at least I’d be able to gauge his reaction to it all. Come with me. You need to take a shower and get into some clean clothes.

Sasha flushed and hung his head. I’m sorry about my appearance.

That wasn’t a criticism. How long have you been living on the streets?

Two years off and on. Work’s hard to find for someone who didn’t graduate and has no fixed address. There are more people than jobs as it is. Sometimes I can get rooms but not often. It’s been a couple of months since I had either work or a bed for the night.

I nodded and opened the kitchen door. Immediately noise filled the room, and Sasha winced, turning away from the sounds. I indicated he should follow me along the corridor. Tomáš almost bumped into us as he returned from the club, his tiny red jock stuffed with korunas. From what I could see, Sasha was about the same height but possibly thinner.

Tomáš, how long before you’re on the podium again? I asked, continuing to speak in English.

Forty minutes.

This is Sasha. Will you take him upstairs, let him get a shower, and lend him some clothes? Jeans and shirt will do.

Tomáš’s eyes widened as he looked at Sasha, then back at me. Joel?

Hurry up.

Of course. Tomáš nodded. Leaving them together, I returned to the bar.

Another beer? Pavel shouted in order to be heard above the music.

I shook my head. Coke. Thank you. I checked on the progress of the bachelors, most of whom were now crowded around the podium, waving cash at Marek. When I turned back, a tall glass of Coke with ice and a slice of lime had been placed on the bar. I saluted Pavel with the glass before I took a sip.

I checked my watch several times, and almost thirty minutes passed before Tomáš and Sasha appeared. Tomáš had pulled on denim shorts over his jock, and he wore a pair of horrible red plastic sandals on his feet. Sasha walked behind him, head down.

Here you go. I need to get back to work, Tomáš said, the words possibly aimed at both Sasha and me. Tomáš slipped away, leaving the young Russian standing beside me.

Sasha’s hair shone wetly from his shower and pine-scented shower gel drifted to me. He was clean-shaven and the removal of the hair revealed a firm chin and high cheekbones. He pressed his full lips together and kept his eyes down.

I’d been right about him and Tomáš being of similar size, but I wasn’t so sure Tomáš’s style suited Sasha. The electric blue shirt seemed too bright for him and the faded jeans were so tight they looked to have been painted on. It was impossible to miss the decent package he had crammed in there. I jerked my gaze back to his face quickly, noting the colour in his cheeks. Would you like a drink?

Sasha glanced at my Coke and nodded. I didn’t really want the drink, and I pushed the glass along the bar toward him. He wrapped long slender fingers around the glass and lifted it to his lips, draining half the contents before placing it back on the bar.

You asked if I could dance? he reminded me.

Yes. This is my club. Well, mine and a partner’s. We’ve been thinking about taking on another dancer. You’ve met Tomáš. That’s Marek up on the podium. I pointed and Sasha turned to look over his shoulder. There are three others. I mentioned before that they’re strippers, and you can see for yourself now. Would you feel comfortable taking your clothes off?

Um, I’ve never done anything like that, but yes. I could do it. He met my eyes. "I’ll do anything. I mean, not anything, but, um—"

I’m only suggesting you dance, Sasha. I gave him a warm smile. There are private rooms upstairs for lap dancing, but that’s the dancer’s choice. You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you do lap dances, you keep half of what the guys pay.

Sasha nodded solemnly.

Why don’t you get out on the dance floor and show me what you can do? Call it an audition. I doubted Karel would be happy about missing this, but I didn’t like the way he auditioned new dancers. He made them get up on the podium when the club was closed, clad in only their underwear, and dance for ten minutes in front of the two of us. I remembered Andĕl’s audition vividly. The boy’s face had been as red as his boxer briefs, and his movements jerky and uncoordinated. Karel would have said no but I’d overruled it. Andĕl was beautiful, and I’d known the men would love him. I’d given him a second audition, fully dressed, in one of the upper rooms. Funnily enough, dancing virtually naked in front of hundreds came to him pretty easily once he got started.

Sasha finished his Coke and walked onto the dance floor. He was a little too thin but otherwise stunning. He’d need a haircut and a few decent meals, but if he could dance, he’d make plenty of tips. I did my best to think of the investment rather than the fact that he was exactly the type of man I liked.

He’s too young for you.

Sasha had told me he was almost twenty-one, but I usually preferred men closer to my own age. At thirty-five, I’d grown out of one-night stands a long time ago. Karel hadn’t and he was older than me, but after the club was set up, I felt it was time to stop picking up random fucks and try a relationship instead. I’d had two since, both of which lasted over a year, but neither had been completely satisfying.

I shook myself in annoyance. I’d known the guy about five minutes and I was looking at him as potential boyfriend material. Ridiculous.

The music changed to a sensual tune with a heavy bass, making my chest vibrate. I tried to pay attention and watch with a critical eye as Sasha began to move. At first, he merely shuffled from side to side, looking as awkward as Andĕl had that first time. Then he tilted his head back, half-closed his eyes, and seemed to lose himself in the music. He lifted his arms above his head and moved his body in time with the beat, swaying and gyrating, virtually writhing on the dance floor. My cock swelled as I watched, and I resisted the urge to adjust myself.

A random dancer moved in behind Sasha and placed his hands on the boy’s hips. The blond man rubbed his groin against Sasha’s arse and slid one hand around to his stomach. Sasha stiffened and I edged forward, ready to step in. The other boys were quite capable of pushing away groping hands, but perhaps Sasha would think this was expected of him. The security guys always kept an eye