3. Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
Neil
Three Weeks Later
“You’re doing so much better,” Xiao Wei praises me. “There’s no leak at all unless you’re very distracted.”
I grin at her, feeling ridiculously proud. “Thank you. It’s been really cool trying to figure all this out. You’re sure it’s not immoral for me to use a little bit of enthrallment at work?”
She shakes her head. “You’re not taking away anyone’s free will. They come to the club with the intent of being sexually titillated, and you’re giving them that. Nobody seems to be acting irrationally? Throwing hundred-dollar bills at you, things like that?”
“I wish,” I scoff. “My tips have gone up a bit, but not dramatically. Mostly there are just more people coming to see me. Apparently bar sales have gone up, which makes the boss happy. He’s mentioned an increase to my salary.”
“You’re fine. They’re coming to watch you because you make them feel good.
It’s normal behavior to buy a drink when you’re at a club.
Make sure you keep it at a low level, just enough to enhance what they’d already feel watching you dance, and if you notice people starting to act oddly, stop immediately.
Have you noticed a difference in how you feel since you started shielding? ”
I nod. “Definitely. I have more energy, and I’m not feeling that hunger on my days off anymore. It’s nice to know I can have a few days in a row away from the club without starving myself.”
“Great, that’s exactly how it should be. What about within the community? The other day you said you were getting along well with some people in the newcomers’ chat group. Have you considered taking that into a real-life situation?”
The difference in my life over the past few weeks has been dramatic.
Aside from learning how to shield and discovering what a difference it makes to me, I’ve finally connected with other people.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t been friendless and alone for twenty-seven years, but I’ve never had any friends that I felt truly close to.
And since most guys take one look at my cock and either freak out or become creepily obsessed, more intimate connections just didn’t appeal.
I had work filling so many hours, and then Mom was sick…
developing friendships and chasing sex weren’t that important. I had my hand and my work friends.
But now… it’s been amazing to talk to other people and actually feel a connection with them.
Most of them are new to the community, like me, so we have that common interest to begin with.
I’ve also ventured into some groups for incubi and succubae only, and some special interest groups on baking and interior design.
There is, of course, the occasional asshole, but in general everyone’s been so welcoming and supportive.
“There are some people from the baking group meeting for coffee on Saturday,” I tell Xiao Wei.
“I’ve said I’ll go, and I’m pretty sure I will.
I’m a bit nervous,” I confess. “We’re all supposed to bring something we baked, and after I mentioned my Christmas cookies, a few people asked me to bring those, but…
since the community doesn’t celebrate Christmas, it feels weird. ”
Her smile is so understanding that my nerves just evaporate. “Don’t feel weird. It’s okay to still want to celebrate Christmas. And if people are specifically asking you to bring things, that means they want you there.”
“Yeah. I just hope I don’t say something dumb and inadvertently offend anyone.
Did I tell you I called the agent who visited me a werewolf?
” Wanna hear something funny? I learned that canid shifters are officially called hellhounds.
It has something to do with their species leader a long time ago having a warped sense of humor.
They used to be canid shifters, but now they’re hellhounds.
I can see why it would have been bad to tell me that initially.
She bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Who’d you have?” She flips through the notes in my file. “Oh, Mark. He would have been fine with it.”
“He was.” I shrug. “Especially after he ate my cookies.” I wince. “That came out wrong.”
This time she doesn’t bother trying to hide her laughter. “I know what you meant, and yeah, cookies would have done it for Mark. You should hear him complaining about how they have to buy their own cookies now and it’s not the same as homemade.”
“He mentioned it,” I say dryly, then hesitate. “Are all hellhounds quite so… dramatic?” And hot , I want to add, but that probably wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Most of them, yeah. You’ll never have a better friend than a hellhound, but they’ll exhaust you. They have very few boundaries”—well, that explains the rubdown—“and they’re always the life of the party, even if there is no party.”
I can’t help feeling a little wistful. “I could probably use that in my life. I guess I will go Saturday. I’m pretty sure some of the people in the group are hellhounds, but even if not, I need to push my boundaries.”
“That’s great! You don’t really need me anymore. You’re doing so well.”
Fear washes over me, and it must show on my face, because she adds quickly, “You can still call me anytime. I’m here to support you whenever you need it.
But I don’t think we need to have any more official appointments.
We’re up to ten now, aren’t we? That’s usually the point where people strike out on their own, and you’re so much more prepared for it than most.”
“I just feel like there’s so much I still don’t know,” I admit.
“Oh, there is. But you don’t have to know everything all at once. Remember, nobody knows everything, and they certainly don’t know it all at your age!”
That’s another thing: I’m going to live for hundreds of years.
Yeah, it surprised me too. On the plus side, I instantly stopped feeling like I should be doing something more with my life.
I have time. I’m going to dance until I’m sick of it, and then maybe I’ll go to design school or become a pastry chef.
Or become a social worker. What Xiao Wei and her teammates do has changed my life, and it would be so cool to be able to pay that forward.
But I have time. Maybe I can even do all three. I’d probably need to start having sex, though, if I couldn’t feed at the club anymore.
That does not seem like a hardship.
In fact, I’m definitely ready for it.
“Okay,” Xiao Wei interrupts my mental musing on whether it would be a bad idea to make a move on one of my fellow dancers, “let’s do a meditation, and then we’re done.”
I feel great as I adjust my sexy Santa costume. Obviously, padding is a no-go when the plan is for me to strip, so the costume isn’t really that traditional, even before you account for the sequins and Velcro.
The act goes over great, though. Who knew so many people had Santa fantasies? I get so many requests for the hat that my boss went and bought a bunch of extras for me to toss into the crowd as I leave the stage.
I stretch gently, preparing myself as the current song winds to a close.
I’m up next. This is my second set of the night and usually the most popular.
Peering out from the wings, I scope out the crowd.
The act before mine—four oiled-up, buff “firemen” with a big hose—have done a great job of revving everyone up, and it’s a full house, which, believe it or not, happens often on a worknight in the leadup to Christmas. We get a lot of office holiday parties.
Go figure.
My gaze skims over two bachelorette parties and a bachelor party and snags on a lone figure leaning against the bar.
I know that figure. I fed it cookies and scratched behind its ears.
It’s Agent Mark.
In my club. About to watch me perform.
This is my chance. Forget hitting on one of the other dancers or waiters; I’m ending my dry streak tonight with a sexy hellhound.
Thank fuck.
Four buff firemen in thongs come off the stage. “Great set,” I tell them, because it really was. I get three breathless “thanks” and a wink in response.
Then it’s my turn. Our emcee, Ravi, asks, “Are you ready for Naughty Neil?” and the crowd goes wild. The dance remix of “Santa Baby” starts, and I step out onto the stage.
For the next four minutes, I keep my focus on what I’m doing, especially when it’s time for the pole. Losing concentration when I’m upside down would be bad. There’s going to be plenty of time to scope out Mark later; for now, I need to give the crowd what they came for and get my tips.
When the music finally fades away, I’m down to the hat and a glittery red thong and have my back to the crowd as usual, hip cocked, showing off one of my best features.
I look back over my shoulder and blow a kiss, which always gets a final roar—and flurry of tips—and this time I make eye contact with Mark and wink.
Then the lights go down and I toss my Santa hat into the crowd and leave the stage, sweaty and breathless.
My job is so much fun.
Before going back to the dressing room, I go up to the door that leads from the staff area to the main bar and open the door a crack. There’s a bouncer there, as always, and he immediately turns his head to see what I need. It’s Greg tonight.
“Hey, there’s a friend of mine at the bar. Can you bring him back? Just give me a few minutes first.”
Surprise crosses his face. I’ve never, not in nearly ten years working here, even mentioned having friends, much less invited one backstage. “Sure,” he agrees. “Which one is he?”
I can just barely see Mark from here, but his image is burned into my brain. Just as well, since I don’t want to risk opening the door more and having someone see me. I point him out and describe what he’s wearing in enough detail that Greg starts to laugh.
“I see him,” he promises. “Go on, I’ll bring him in a minute.”