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what he was: submissive. The problem was, in addition to his difficulty in focusing, most men he’d encountered played at being a Dom. Micah glanced at the door where Tackett had exited the club. “Kind of like you accused me of, only in reverse,” he muttered.
    Did that mean Tackett had the same feelings he did? That those playing a game were a total turnoff and those who truly lived the lifestyle were hard to find? He knew exactly who he could get the answers from. Micah turned on his heels and headed back toward the bar.
    Ty had taken over when Micah’s shift ended, and unless there was a problem that required his assistance, Micah knew exactly where he could find his boss, Blake Henderson.
    Blake sat at the end of the bar on what had become known as the boss’s stool. It provided the perfect vantage point. From his perch, Blake could see the bar, the stage, the dance floor, and the rest of the club except the back rooms. It wouldn’t surprise Micah if Blake also monitored that area with video surveillance. He had panic buttons in them, so why not video? The thought made him feel safe and, at the same time, got him hot and horny. He’d been privy to some of the things that had gone on in those hidden back rooms. Kinky shit, hot-as-fuck stuff, and the thought of someone watching, maybe even jerking off from their seat in front of the computer terminal—oh yes, it called to his naughty, exhibitionist side, ramped it right up, and his cock swelled against his thigh.
    Focus, Micah. You were about to ask about Tackett, remember? Micah gave himself a little internal shake. Oh yeah, right, Tackett.
    Micah approached Blake. “Sir, could I speak to you for a moment?”
Blake motioned toward the empty stool next to him. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat.”
Micah took the offered stool and asked, “You’ve been expecting me, sir?”
Blake smiled. “I’ve seen the way you look and behave when Tackett is around. Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“That transparent, huh? Well, to everyone but Tackett.”
“I don’t know about that, Micah. I’d say you’ve left quite the impression on Mr. Austin.”
Micah met Blake’s gaze, trying to find the meaning of his statement in his expression, but Blake’s features were frustratingly neutral. Micah picked at a hangnail, not sure what to do with his hands and feeling a little strange talking to Blake about Tackett. Maybe he should be talking to Ty. From their conversations, there wasn’t a cockier sub than Ty. At least he had been when he’d first met Blake, and things sure had worked out for the two of them.
“Hey.”
    Micah blinked slowly. It took him a minute to realize he’d been staring at Blake while zoned out with his own thoughts again. “Sorry, sir. I’m thinking I should probably talk to Ty.”
    “About what?” Ty asked, joining them.
“Our Micah has a dilemma.”
“What’s the matter, can’t figure out who to irritate next?” Ty chuckled and set a fresh glass of water in front of Blake.
Micah thought about sticking his tongue out, but bit it instead. He’d get Ty back later. “Ha-ha. You need to work on your bartending skills. You’re supposed to serve drinks and advice, not be a dick.”
Ty held up a hand and started counting off on his fingers. “One, you’re trying too hard. Two, Tackett is twice your age—ever think maybe you make him feel old? Three, you haven’t done your research. You don’t know enough about the man you’re trying to catch. You’re obviously going to need more than just your pretty looks to impress him. And finally, it wasn’t me that was the cockiest out of the duo. That would be Blake. I didn’t really give a shit about him, nor did I want to know him when we met, so knock off the cocky submissive shit. It’s oxymoronic. There’s your advice.” Ty set Blake’s half-empty glass he’d just replaced with a fresh one back down in front of Micah. “Now here’s your drink.”
Blake had covered his mouth,