4. Working for an adult club will get you horny
FOUR
WORKING FOR AN ADULT CLUB WILL GET YOU HORNY
M y first shift has been an absolute disaster.
I don’t expect the space to be so dark. Nor the noises of sex all around me to make me blush and sputter over my own words like my tongue isn’t my own.
I’m only an hour into my trial shift and I already spilled a drink on a naked couple who were fucking like no one was watching—or maybe exactly like the whole club was watching. In my defence, how was I supposed to know they’d change position while I approached their table and I’d have to manoeuvre out of their way in order to not touch their unmentionables?
I apologise profusely and set the new, full glasses on the table in front of them without another glance in their direction.
When lights shine on the dais in the middle of what’s called the living room—basically the bar area and antechamber to the private spaces—I lose all sense of professionalism and just stare, my limbs anchored where I stand with an empty tray aloft in my hand.
The most gorgeous human I’ve ever seen steps onto the stage. With a sharp clean-shaven jaw, a strong nose with a golden piercing that glints in the light, and a strong brow, this man’s face is a work of art. His afro is cropped on the sides and wavy on top, giving him a boyish look that clearly works for him. He’s only wearing loose-fitting pants, and the muscled umber brown skin of his chest glows under the spotlight.
Extending a hand to the shadows, he invites a graceful figure to step onto the stage next to him. The woman is naked, giving the public a full view of the rosy flesh that rolls at her stomach and hips. I try and fail not to gawk at her heavy breasts and puckered nipples, but she’s gorgeous and it’s hard to look away. I’m desperate to know what they will be up to. The desire coursing through my veins is potent and heady, making me forget that I have a job to do.
But everyone’s eyes are riveted to the spectacle in front of us and no one hails me for a refill, so I stay where I am and continue to stare.
A third person joins the couple.
I recognise him instantly.
Air gets stuck in my lungs and I almost take a step further to see him better. His gaze lifts to where I am. Even though I’m hidden in the shadows, it’s like he can see me; like he can feel my presence.
He’s fully clothed, which is a shocking contrast to his partners. His well-cut black shirt is open just enough for me to peek at a chiselled chest dusted with dark hair. His glasses give him an air of authority that is in sharp contrast to his two companions.
Without a word or a smile, both he and the other man take hold of ropes that I didn’t even notice at the side of the stage, and bind the woman in tight knots.
My mouth dries and I lick my lips as I watch them working in sync.
The man with the glasses looks so much more relaxed; like the ropes in his hands are his medicine for a heavy heart. His brow unfurrows in front of my eyes. I’m mesmerised.
He doesn’t touch the woman he’s binding more than necessary, whereas the other man luxuriates in her body, kissing her neck, her breasts, the inside of her thighs, making her sigh and moan with his ministrations.
My panties dampen under the short pleated skirt I’m wearing, my pulse erratic in my ears. I’m so focused on the display that I jump up when Jade touches my shoulder.
“I know they’re hot and all, but table six has been trying to get your attention for ten minutes, babe,” she says with amusement.
Thank God the space is dark, so she can’t see my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I get to the table and take the order, doing my best to avoid the three beautiful people on the dais and the man bouncing on the cock of the other one who’s dictating his order to me like I’m just the secretary at his job.
This is going to be the longest six hours of my life.
I get to the bar and wait for Jade to prepare the cocktails before doing my best to balance them on my tray and bring them to the patrons. I’m too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not tripping. I don’t see the massive wall in front of me.
In a clash of broken glass and spilled liquor, I collide with him .
Warm, large hands land on my forearms to steady me. I look up, coming eye to eye with a sharp steel-grey gaze. Where I expect annoyance, I only find concern.
“Are you okay?” His rough voice travels along my skin, a shiver making its way up my spine. Listening to people having sex around me for the past hour has made me extra horny if only three simple words can make me want to drop to my knees but here I am. I also haven’t had a human-induced orgasm in too long. That’s the only plausible explanation for my brain-short circuiting.
“Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry, sir,” I babble as I crouch to gather the shards of glass at our feet, severing the link between us.
He surprises me and crouches next to me, helping collect the broken glass.
“Oh no, please. You don’t have to do that. You’ll—” I don’t finish my sentence and hiss as a fragment of glass slices my palm.
The stranger frowns and pulls a silk square from his trouser pocket. Before I can argue, he takes my hand in his larger one and presses the lightly-coloured fabric against my skin. It immediately darkens and although the cut is shallow, it’s bleeding a lot.
“Oh shit,” I mumble.
I’m mortified. Not only did I break more glasses so far tonight than in my entire first week at The Happy Frog, but now I’m bleeding all over a customer. I’m a fucking mess. Tears prick at my eyes. I tear my hand away and stand abruptly, averting my gaze. “I’m so sorry. Let me get you another drink. On the house,” I sniff.
The man’s fingers encircle my wrist before I can flee. With more tenderness than I deserve, he places the silk on my wound again. “You should get this cleaned up,” he says.
Words lodge in my throat, the pressure of his fingers on my cut anchoring me to the moment. His body is so close to mine that it shelters me from the light of the dais where another couple has replaced the bondage trio. The dark cocoon could almost make me believe I’m safe here with this stranger.
But it’s just a mirage.
I nod and disappear into the staff area, cleaning my hand and bunching the soiled fabric of the pocket square before jamming it into my pocket as a keepsake.
The rest of the shift is less eventful, but I spend it feeling off balance, visions of the dark-haired stranger with his clear glasses bursting in my mind every so often. I grit my teeth and keep going until closing time.
“That was rough, babe,” Jade jokes as we sweep and disinfect the benches and table of the living room.
“It was so dark,” I answer as if that’s excuse enough.
“Yeah, but two spilled glasses, three broken and three order mix ups is a lot .”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do better next time. Please, don’t fire me yet.” I’m ready to beg. If I want to put myself to school and actually do something more with my life than barely live one day at a time, I need to hang on. The pay is great, much better than anywhere I’ve worked before. And these patrons know how to tip.
Jade swats my words away and laughs. “Babe, the last person I hired ended up in a foursome on his first shift. You’ll be fine.” She obviously sees my shock and points to a lean and tanned blond man walking to the staff area. “That’s Bianco. He loves the attention too much to just serve drinks.”
Our shift ends at around 2 am and Jade and I walk side by side as we make our way home. I tell her about my shitty roommate and she cackles like my misery is the best story she’s heard in a while.
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll beat the bastard up for you. You don’t look like you know how to throw a punch. If you need a place to stay, let me know. I’m often at my boyfriend’s and at least, you can use the heating if you decide to sleep at my place,” she offers kindly.
I’ve only just met her and she has done more for me than my wretched aunt, who I share blood with. I desperately want to cling to it, but I know what happens when you trust someone and they reveal who they really are.
I’m cautious when I answer, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We exchange numbers and, generous as always, Jade asks me to come back for another shift. “Process the experience, babe. Seeing people fuck can be an adjustment but after a while, you don’t even notice anymore.” She winks and disappears in the other direction.
M y shift on Monday is even worse than the night before. I spend way too much time cleaning up my mess rather than serving drinks.
Thank God for Jade. The woman has been nothing but kind to me, picking up my orders after I destroy them, making the drinks I forget, and guiding me through basic orders because, of course, I forgot how to pour beer from the tap even though I worked at an Irish pub for three weeks.
It’s almost four in the morning when we finish cleaning up. At least, I did that well enough.
Jade comes up to me, her lips a tight line. “Listen, babe, I’m sorry, but the boss was here tonight.”
My breaths come short and laboured. “What does that mean? I can’t lose this job, Jade.” After I spent all the money my mother left me for her funeral, I have nothing left.
Her face contorts and I already know what’s about to happen. I’m going to lose this job too. Chris will kick me out and I’ll probably end up on the street. I’d rather that than going back to my aunt.
The spiralling thought sobers me, and I steal my spine.
“Babe, I like you. You’re nice and sweet, but I’ve been working here for two years and you’re the worst bartender I’ve ever worked with,” Jade says. I barely flinch at her words. It’s nothing new. I’ve heard it all before.
“I’d have shadowed you all week if I had to. I think maybe you can learn, but the boss saw you. Multiple times.” She winces.
Anger rises because if I hadn’t grown up the way I did, a slave for my aunt instead of being able to focus on my studies, I’d be able to do something with myself. I wouldn’t be here, barely making ends meet instead of studying to take care of people like I want.
When I escaped, the idea was to make enough money to put myself through university. But the chiropractic program I want to do is five years of full-time study. I’m not giving up on my dream yet, but it slips away with every day that passes. My savings account shows no more than the hundred euros I put in to open it.
“She wants to see you,” Jade finally says and I blanch. I don’t need to have worked here for a long time to know that the big boss Jade is speaking of is Alana Moretti, CEO of the Moretti-Bartoli Holding and alleged mafia heir to a huge drug empire.
We climb the winding stairs to the second floor. A few doors are closed but one is ajar, light music coming from it. Jade knocks.
“Come in,” a raspy voice instructs.
This place keeps surprising me. Or it’s just that I don’t know shit about life and this island, but the gorgeous woman behind the desk was not what I expected. She must be just shy of thirty, but she occupies the space like she owns it. Which I guess she does. A large diamond hangs from her neck between her breasts, complimenting a stark two-piece white suit. Forest green eyes ensnare mine when I meet her gaze.
“You can leave, Jade. Thank you. Close the door behind you,” she says without looking away from me. She’s terrifying and at the same time, I know I’m safe in her company, as long as I’m honest.
I take a step forward. “Mrs. Moretti, I’m so sorry about the glasses, you can take it out of my pay. I didn’t expect it to be so dark. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to work here, and?—”
“Vanessa, I don’t give a shit about broken glass and spilled alcohol,” she cuts me off.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “So, I’m not fired?” I ask, hope filling my chest.
“Of course, you are.”
I deflate like a balloon, tears filling my eyes. Alana rounds the desk and hands me a tissue and a glass of water. “However, I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do sex work. I admire them, but that’s not for me. And I’m almost a virgin, so that wouldn’t work.”
Why the fuck did I say that?
Her laugh booms through the room, like I’ve surprised her and she’s delighted with my bluntness. “I’ve never heard someone say they’re ‘almost’ a virgin before. Not every sex worker gets penetrated, my dear,” she says with amusement. “But that’s not what I had in mind. One of my employees is in dire need of a nanny for his two kids. I thought you might be able to help, considering your upbringing. You obviously can’t pour a drink to save your life.” She adds that last part with a smile that tells me all I need to know. She looked me up.
My eyes widen, fear skating across my skin like oil. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She can’t possibly know that in exchange for living at my aunt’s house, I basically raised my little cousin. I was his dedicated babysitter except it was 24/7 and I barely got a decent meal out of it.
“Come on now, Vanessa, your honesty was so refreshing. Don’t stop now. I can find out anything about anyone. It wasn’t hard to find your birth certificate and your parents’ identities. Your mother died at your aunt’s house a year ago, and you only showed up on the island two months ago. It doesn’t take a detective to know you left in a hurry. From the records I have, you took care of your cousin for years.”
I lower my face, not ready to accept that someone knows how I grew up, the abuse I’ve suffered, the shame I still feel that I stayed for six months after my mother died because I had nowhere to go and I was too scared.
She rounds the desk and approaches me, lifting my chin upwith a finger until our eyes meet again. She frowns. “Did someone hurt you, Vanessa?”
“No,” I immediately answer, not wanting her to pity me. That’s only partially true. Abuse doesn’t only look like bruises.
“Alright then. Can you answer me, then?”
“Yes, I took care of my little cousin.”
“Then, I guess that settles it. You need a job, or else you wouldn’t have begged Jade to let you work downstairs. Mr Marquesi needs someone to start as soon as possible. You’ll take tomorrow off and I’ll introduce you on Wednesday. If everything goes well, you’ll be able to start next week.”
She speaks with the self-confidence of someone who’s used to being obeyed. It’s a good thing I have no intention of arguing with her. Next week is too late for my rent, but I stay silent. This is a normal job, not the service industry, so who knows, I might be good at it. Mr Marquesi will probably pay me at the end of the month and I only worked two shifts here which isn’t enough to top up my measly pay from The Happy Frog. The uncomfortable conversation I need to have with Chris is a problem for another time.
First, I need to convince this Mr Marquesi that I’m fit to take care of his children. Being around them and doing it as a job are two different things. What if something happens and I mess up? It’s not just broken glass. I could risk lives.
I’m scared shitless, but Alana Moretti scares me more.
“And Vanessa, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Alana says with a kind smile. She doesn’t offer any other platitude and I grit my teeth to stave off the tears that threaten to escape along with the grief I’ve buried deep inside.
I thank her and walk back to my flat, feeling like a shadow follows me. Probably anxiety looming over my head, reminding me that if I fail, it’s back to square one.