Arliss returned to the dressing room, feeling a little disoriented and worn-out. All that mingling, smiling, being groped, laughing at jokes he didn’t think were funny, and pretending to seriously consider come-ons from guys old enough to be his father had exhausted him. Dancing always did that. It was as though having all that attention focused on him drained the life out of him. For most of the guys working at Tricks, the opposite seemed to be true.
Antonio had finished for the night, although the way he was dressed, Arliss would have thought the guy was ready to strut out and do another set. The Puerto Rican wore painted-on skinny jeans, combat boots, and a torn camouflage tank top that showed off his olive complexion, ripped muscles, and tattoos. He was sitting in one of the folding c
