Bass Slut. Night Shift, #4

Dorian calls the shots. That's the theory. In practice, Clara rides him in an alley while the bass bleeds through the brick and he's on his knees before the second chorus drops. In practice, five women in heels back him into a dressing room with their lips parted and their hands deliberate, and the director can't remember his own name. The gap between who he thinks he is and what he actually does when someone grabs his cock is the whole engine of this book.
Theater back rooms, neon clubs, a loft where the playlist's still thumping - every scene ends with Dorian wrecked and someone else smirking.