Chapter Text
Usually, Robby’s method of coping after a rough shift was a cup of tea and a few chapters from his book. Not going to a strip club. Yet here he was, walking alongside Jack, to a building that had a bright neon sign that read “The Flock Sucker” with a picture of a flamingo. This wasn’t the first time they had gone to a strip club together, but it had been a couple years since Jack pulled the routine of cornering Robby by the lockers and pestering him until he said yes.
The Flock Sucker was a newer club in Pittsburgh. Jack had heard good things about it apparently. Robby rubbed his tired eyes as they stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the blaring music. He followed Jack to a table a medium distance from the stage. Too close and you were a target for lap dances, too far and you couldn't see shit. Robby could do with being a bit closer, but Jack wasn't a huge fan, says he prefers to watch the show, not be in it.
Jack left him to get them a couple of drinks. Robby watched a young man perform a routine to a pop song he didn’t know. Jack came back with the drinks as the young man finished up. The audience hooted and hollered as he picked up the bills that had been thrown onto the stage.
Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy came over the speakers. And a new young man walked onto the stage. The man was wearing chaps and no shirt. His head was bowed, face obscured by a white stetson. He walked around the pole and when he turned around Robby could see half his ass uncovered by his skimpy underwear. Robby’s stomach somersaulted a few times. The man dropped his chaps and started his routine on the pole. Robby whistled with his fingers. The man spun around another time before letting the stetson fall onto the floor. Robby almost bit his fingers off.
“Holy shit.” Jack almost knocked over his drink. “Is that-”
It was.
Dennis Whitaker flipped himself upside down so he was hanging by his clenched legs, arms extending out and behind him, accentuating his arched back. He flipped himself back so he was hanging onto the pole with only his hands. His biceps bulged and so did Robby’s cock. The men watched in awe and silence as Dennis swung around the pole and finished his routine. The crowd erupted, but Robby was frozen. Dennis leaned over to scoop up his chaps and some money from the stage floor. He grabbed the stetson and carelessly spun it out into the cheering crowd.
The hat hit Robby square in the chest. He mindlessly brought his hand up to hold it there as Whitaker retreated backstage. Robby noticed that his hips swung a bit more than when he walked through the ER. He sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before turning to a dumbstruck Jack.
“Holy shit.” He said again.
Robby looked down at the stetson, aware of the blush consuming his face. He noticed a small piece of paper tucked into the band. He gently pulled it out and unfolded it.
If you’d like to return this to me, you can request a private room…
- D
Jack snatched the note from him, “Oh that’s clever.” He chuckled before handing it back to Robby. He watched him for a moment. “Man, what are you waiting for?”
“What?”
“You have to return the hat!”
“I’ll just give it to one of the hosts.”
“Are you kidding me? Go see him!”
“He’s my student! I can't do that.”
“Not right now. You're off the clock, and you can't tell me that didn't make you hard.”
Robby didn't respond.
“Just go. You know you want to.”
Of course he wanted to. He was obsessed with the young doctor. He watched him all day with short but longing glances. When he attended to his patients, ran to the aid of another doctor, and when he inevitably changed his scrubs. Dennis’ pale muscular back ran through Robby’s mind endlessly, wishing he could see more, and now he had. Leaving only one thing to the imagination, and he wanted to see that too.
He slammed his drink, rose from the table, and walked over to the host’s stand. The host eyed him, an eyebrow cocked knowingly.
“I would like to return this hat.”