“Shh. Don’t let the whole damn club hear you,” Molly hisses, but Serena hardly pays her any attention, she’s too excited.
“Come on, Sawyer. I’ve seen you dance before, I know you’d fucking kill it. Besides, there’s also the possibility that you’ll like it. It’s fucking exhilarating sometimes, being able to turn these big bad men into puddles of desperation.” Serena leans against the bar top, sighing dramatically. “I’m serious though, Sawyer. You really never know if you’ll like something until you try it. Besides, haven’t we always said we’d try anything once?” Serena says, adding a little wink with her smile this time.
That look right there is the one that gets these men eating out of the palm of her hand. The tips she brings home are proof.
Well, her smile and her willingness to set her shame aside. If she even has any. I’ve yet to see it.
Serena is honestly the most confident chick I’ve ever met, walking around this club in tiny little outfits, leaving nothing to the imagination. But it works for her, and she’s killing it right now. Besides, with her looks and body, it’s no surprise she’s so confident. She has curves in all the right places, and her long red hair goes down to her ass, highlighting it perfectly.
I may be straight, but I’m not fucking blind; she’s a smoke show.
“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes at her theatrics.
I hate that there’s a little voice in the back of my mind that’s disappointed I didn’t say yes. What would it hurt to just try it? Just once. It’s like I’ve said no for so long that I’m scared to say yes.
I ignore that little voice though, it’s the same voice constantly telling me to branch out, open my heart up, test my limits. All of the things that have gotten me hurt in the past, so why open myself up to that again.
Besides, that little voice is kind of a slut who only thinks with her vagina, and currently, she’s tired of my celibate ways.
Right as Serena is about to start arguing with me, she peers over my shoulder at a group of guys who just sat down in her section. I follow her gaze, my jaw dropping when I see them. These guys are hot, like dangerously hot, and you know they know it. Most of them have that slightly edgy look, but in a pretty boy kind of way, which most girls love; it just doesn’t do it for me. They seem to be having a good time, joking around, and smiling, or at least mostly all of them are. One of the guys is staring at his friends with an interesting look. At first, he appears annoyed at their antics, but his eyes show a hint of humor, like he's actually enjoying himself.
Watching him, it's intriguing. It’s like his eyes are the only part of his expression that holds the truth and his face is just a mask.
“Give me a minute. This conversation isn’t over yet,” she says, as she scurries off to go greet the new table.
The vibe is rowdier, more electric than it usually is on a Wednesday night. The club is always busy, but tonight you can feel the energy in the air. It’s dangerous in an exciting, intoxicating way.
No one’s complaining, we all live for nights like this. It makes our shifts go quick, with constant action. No pun intended.
And the tips are always very generous.
The people who come here on a Wednesday night... yeah, they have no issue being a little heavy-handed with their tips. They can easily afford it. I mean, if you can afford the membership for this club, you’re not exactly hurting for money.
Atlantis is one of the only clubs around here with a membership nearing a million dollars. But for that price, you’re only in charge of your tips when you come. You get access to the bar, and the showroom, which has private dancers and pole dancers. You also get access to the private rooms.
The best part? Customers and employees all sign NDAs. If anything gets leaked or anyone’s involvement with the club is used to negatively impact their outside life, they are fined. And sued by the club for the individual. Atlantis protects what’s theirs.
Taking a drink ticket, I smile when I see it’s a $10,000 bottle of scotch. Reaching for the bottle, I set it down right as Serena walks over with a smile on. That’s not surprising, but this one looks devious. She must know she’s going to get paid out big from this table alone.
“Hey, Sawyer, could you grab five or six glasses for that scotch and run them to that table? Molly is over there dealing with something, and I like, really have to go to the bathroom.” She walks away without even giving me time to refuse her. Asshole.
I know what she’s fucking doing, but I’m also terrified at the prospect of her coming back to a pissed off table if I fuck it up.
“What the fuck!” I yell after her, before turning to see the table still laughing and talking with each other, except for one guy. His eyes are on me, just watching. He almost looks angry, fire reflecting in his eyes. Why hasn’t he looked away?
Looking around, I notice Molly and Serena are nowhere to be found, meaning I have no fucking choice but to go serve this table. Fucking fantastic.
I look down at my outfit and sigh. While we have fewer rules than the dancers and servers there’s still a dress code policy. Meaning, I’m not wearing much. I have a red lace crop top on, showing pretty much everything but my actual nipples, and some lace boy shorts. Serena said it looked hot when I came in for my shift, and honestly, I don’t disagree.
Grabbing their scotch and glasses, I walk over to the table, growing more irritated as I get closer to them.
I try to ignore that my legs feel like Jell-O as I walk to the table. Looking at the guys, I notice most of them are still in conversation, ignoring everything around them. Although one guy is looking at me with a huge smile on his face, which is alarming because the man who was glaring at me is sitting directly next to him.
Setting down the bottle of scotch and the glasses, I look around and offer a smile to the guys, hoping to be able to just turn around and book it back to the bar.
“Thanks,” one of the guys says as I pass him his drink. I just smile, too afraid of what might tumble out of my mouth if I open it. I may be displeased to be doing this, but I know better than to piss off the customers.
When I finally make it to the smiley guy’s side of the table, he’s smirking.