R | Writing | Short Stories | Fears

"It's really slow tonight..." I say boredly to my co-worker, Crystal (they always have tacky names). "How are we supposed to look busy if there's no one to get busy WITH?" We both giggle at the pun although we both know that the closest thing to nudity that was allowed in this club was taking your bra off. Crystal and I are sitting at the bar, letting our feet rest from the torturous heels we wear everyday.

"My boyfriend and girlfriend got into it again last night..." Says Crystal quietly to make conversation. I cringe, and she only nods. "It was over a butterknife. Can you believe it? A BUTTERKNIFE."

"I assume they're both aware that there's more than one butterknife in your house?" I say bitterly, rising to the occassion of an opportunity to critisize her current partners.

"Yeah, but there was only one knife they both wanted."

I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my glass of water, "Men are too simple, women are too emotional. Though with the decisions men make, you'd think they're a step lower than simple, like...retarded." We "lmao" quietly, but stop short when we hear Fred, the bouncer, talking to some men up front. "It's showtime." I say predatorialy, licking my bottom lip. Crystal giggles at my display and we turn around in our seats and attempt to look sexy, leaning back on the bar, our torsos stretch out and our legs folded.

It's dark in the club, but we can see the group of men come in. These guys always frequent this place, but for once, they don't seem interested in Esmerelda or Electra dancing on the stages. They take a seat at one of the big round tables and begin to laugh and converse. Crystal and I look at each other, slightly annoyed that they came to talk and not spend money. Then we hear a voice calling us, "Hey!! You girls, why don't you come on over here?" I turn to look, one of the guys from the group were calling to us. I gesture towards them with my head to Crystal and we saunter over, trying to look natural but still sexy.

"Hey boys," says Crystal, looping an arm around mine, "Can we do something for you?"

One of the scruffier-looking men holds up a big wad of twenties. He looked a little drunk, but Crystal pulled him away to one of the back rooms anyways. I didn't mind. Horny men were easy to control, especially with Fred looming in the distance near the entrance. I lean foward and down, putting my elbows on the table, giving them a good view of my cleavage and a nice view of the arch of my back and my ass. A couple of them stare, I grin and wink at them. "So guys, is there anything I can get you?"

"C'mon man!" Said one man, punching the man beside him in the arm, "Ask her!" The rest of the group seemed to agree with various "Yeah!"s and "Go on, man!"s being shouted.

"Nah, man, I'm straight." Said the man in question, leaning stiffly back from the table.

"Yeah, dude, that's why we brought you here!" The table erupted in laughter, and I inwardly sweatdropped. But still, business is business, and I wasn't working here for nothing.

"Awww, does someone want some private time...?" I give the now nervous-looking man a teasing pout.

The man closest to me nudges me, "That there's our buddy Nick, we figured we'd show him some fun tonight." He winked at me, but I didn't need anymore hints, I got the idea.

I walk slowly around the table to this Nick fellow and am preparing to give him a saucy look when he turns to look at me and I realize who "Nick" is. The noise of the music, the group, everything, turns into a heavy silence. My ears begin to ring. HE is here. Fearful that I might fall over in my heels, I shake myself from my stupor. 'Oh God no, not with HIM.' But the coaxing calls of the rest of the group have spoken, I'm to take him to the back. I look frantically around the club for another girl, but they seemed to have disappeared except for Esmerelda, who was still dancing, and I couldn't just interrupt her.

I look back down at Nick, he looks away. He's now leaning foward on the table, hunched over, wringing his hands. '...Well, I can't just stand here all night.' I take him by the hand, lead him to an empty back room and close the door behind us. When I turn back around, Nick had taken a seat on the couch, his head still down, face hidden from sight. I turn my head down too and study the pattern of the carpet. When that became boring, I began to run my hands along my see-through crimson evening dress, ironing out the wrinkles and making sure the back wasn't caught in my thong.

None of us spoke for a long while. I kept my distance by the door, still as much afraid of him now as I was when we were high school seniors. "...Well, this is embarassing."

"What are you doing here?" He asked sternly. I draw in a quick, silent breath and bite my lower lip.

"I WORK here, Nick."