6
Sable
The club was much busier tonight. The voice in the back of my head that screamed at me to take it easy, that it was a mistake after such a terrible panic attack the night before was going ignored.
I craved normalcy. It never worked to shut myself off from the world.
If anything, it made me more depressed and skittish.
I’d worked so hard to be as confident as I was.
I moved through the crowd with grace until I reached the bar. Victor greeted me with a smile before handing me my usual martini glass. The liquor sliding against my tongue was balm to my nerves. Unlike the night before, I hadn’t had a single person harass me yet. It was already an improvement.
“Good job tonight, Sable.”
I smiled at the compliment before taking a sip of my drink. The sour flavor of the lemon was one of my favorites—it’s why I also went for the Lemon Drop. There was something about the tartness that brought me back to reality after being so in the zone on stage.
“Thank you, love. Everything okay over here?”
Victor laughed at my question. He’d asked Timothy, the owner of the club, numerous times for more staff, especially on the busy weekend nights, but all of his requests had fallen on deaf ears.
There was a part-time bartender who would sometimes come in to help, but he somehow managed to always be off on our busiest nights, leaving Victor to scramble behind the bar on his own.
If I’d been in charge, the guy would have lost his job well before now.
It said something that no one even knew what his name was.
“I’ll survive, but, fuck. I need a smoke break, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
I frowned because it was one of the few things I didn’t like about Victor.
The smell of tobacco on his clothes always brought me back to the backseat of my mom's car. For the most part, he didn’t do it around me.
If I asked him to change clothes before we did something, he would accommodate me without question.
Most friends wouldn’t do that, but I still hadn’t really told anyone about my past.
I wanted it to stay there.
Maybe it made me a shitty friend, but I shrugged and took another drink of my martini before looking up and down the bar. Victor didn’t seem to mind that I’d dropped the subject and was already talking to another customer while wiping off the bar top.
It took a lot for me to start making my way around the room. Thanks to the night before, I wanted to keep looking over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t have any more creeps following me.
That’s when I saw him. With the flashing lights from the club, it was impossible to tell what color his eyes were, but I wanted to get closer to find out. He had been staring at me the night before as well, but I didn’t get the same gross vibes that I’d gotten from the man who’d tried to grab me.
I tossed the man a wink, watching with humor as his eyes widened and he turned back to the bar, realizing that I’d caught him watching me. Oh, no, no, no. That wouldn’t do. This was much too fascinating not to investigate.
As I walked closer to him, I took another sip of my drink, trying to think of the best way to address him without scaring him.
Then again, this guy was huge compared to me.
I’d always been on the shorter side for a guy.That could have been what drove me toward dancing.
I was able to bend and contort in ways that people who were tall just...
couldn’t. When I’d stopped growing in seventh grade at five foot four, I’d been upset, but there were advantages to being tiny.
The closer I got, Jesus. This dude looked like he could easily pick me up and throw me around.
I didn’t usually like it rough thanks to the way my mom used to beat me, but there was something about this guy that said it might be fun.
He had to be at least six feet tall, though it was hard to tell with the way he was sitting, but those muscles?
Yum. They stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt to the point of looking like they were about to rip.
He had a sleeve of black and gray tattoos that snaked up one arm, but when I got close enough to him to make out the details of his face, he was back to looking at me.
Yes. I needed to talk to this guy to figure out his deal. His hair was cut shorter on the sides, left a bit longer on top, and he had a hoop through each earlobe. God, he was fucking gorgeous.
I set the martini glass on the bar next to his bottle of beer before leaning into his personal space.
“Hey, you. Something catch your eye?”
The man sputtered, his face turning an adorable shade of pink. It was one of my favorite things to do: to make these big guys that looked tough as nails turn into a shy, blubbering mess.
“Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to stare.”
God, he was too damn cute.
“Yes, you did. And it’s okay.” Now it was my turn to be brave.
Because unlike the night before, I didn’t actually mind being touched when it was under my terms. I grabbed his hand, playing with his fingers, watching the shifting expressions on his face while I threaded our fingers together before releasing his hand.
He cleared his throat, picking up his beer, taking a swig before setting it down a little too hard on the bar top with an audible clank of glass.
“This—this isn’t something I normally do.”
I giggled, leaning in close to his ear. I wanted to run my tongue along the little silver hoop, but held back because that was crossing a line if he wasn’t completely comfortable. Consent went both ways. He had to be just as willing as I was, and I wanted him willing.
“Most of the time, it’s not something people do.”
It was meant to put him at ease, to let him know it wasn’t like people always came in with the intention of paying for a hooker.
Most just wanted a good show. There were nights that I didn’t have to put out at all.
Tonight was looking to be leaning in that direction outside of me actively pursuing this guy.
A boy has to eat and have a roof over his head, after all. I could use an extra payday to help with a down payment on a new place. Anthony was going to be the death of me if I stayed with him too much longer.
But it seemed to do the opposite of putting him at ease. The man’s shoulders tensed as he leaned away from me. Shit, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. How the hell had I gone from being creeped out by unwanted attention to being the one doing the creeping?
“Sorry. I’m so sorry. That was rude of me. You just seemed like you wanted me to come over, and this is what I get for assuming things, I guess.”
I went to pick up my drink, only for him to grab my wrist to stop me.
His hand was so freaking huge around my wrist, I wondered what it would feel like on other parts of my body.
My cock gave an involuntary jump, and I cursed under my breath because any type of arousal would be impossible to hide in these shorts.
Though it might earn me a few more tips.
When I looked back at his face, his eyes were wide again. Maybe he was surprised that he’d stopped me from leaving. I needed to figure out what was going through his head because he intrigued me in ways I’d never been intrigued by someone.
“Don’t want me to leave after all?”
The question was enough to snap him out of whatever spell he was under, letting me go.
“I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to be like the guy who made you freak out last night.”
I frowned.
He’d seen that. Of course he had. At least it had happened on a night when there weren’t very many people in the club.
It happened on the night when this gorgeous beast was there, and now I probably looked like some damsel in distress.
I could take care of myself. That was a special situation.
I didn’t normally react that way to unwanted attention.
He cringed. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up. Shit. I’m really sorry. I sort of suck at all of this,” he scratched at the back of his neck, and I caught the glint of metal on his left ring finger.
Look. I don’t judge people. There’s been all sorts of customers that have spent time with me and a ring didn’t mean anything.
He could be married, divorced, or widowed.
People got rid of things like meaningful jewelry in their own time.
Even if he was married, it wasn’t my job to tell him he was a bad person. I was there to make money.
My thoughts were spiraling—I needed to get this back on track. This guy was yummy with a capital ‘Y’, and I needed a taste. He was obviously on edge. I needed to make him more comfortable. There were ways to do that, but maybe being in a crowded bar wasn’t how we got there.
“Why don’t you come with me? We can go somewhere quieter to talk for a little?”
That still seemed like the wrong answer. He completely locked up after that.
The man shook his head, standing from his stool, and yeah, I’d been about right with how tall he was. I felt like a damn dwarf next to him. Most would maybe find that as a turnoff, but I wanted to climb him like a damn tree.
It didn’t do me any good to sit there wishing I could change his mind because before I even knew what was happening, he’d pulled out his wallet, tossed a handful of bills on the bar and headed for the entrance.
Shit. I’d fucked this all up.
I wanted him to come back.