Page 33 of Rut Bar

He chuckles and washes his hands at the sink while I tuck my soft cock away and fix my costume. “Fine,” he says. “But if you come up to the office with me, she’ll get suspicious. You can watch through the window. Your next set is in two minutes. Better hurry.” Anthony presses a kiss to my lips and leaves me to change.

Two minutes isn’t long to change, and some costumes are hard to put on. I’m not the only dancer in the break room now and a few of the other alphas throw confused glances my way, and then I see their nostrils flaring as they scent what we did.

Our secret might be out. I’ll have to tell Anthony later. He was the one who insisted we keep things quiet. I don’t care if everyone knows we’re together.

My face heats as I do my best to ignore them, pulling the lederhosen short shorts off and shoving them into the dirties bag for cleaning. I grab my next costume and step into the thong. Red, orange, and yellow sequins have been sewn onto it to look like a flickering flame. I step into the long yellow pants and latch the waist, then slip the suspenders over my shoulders and grab the yellow fireman’s helmet off the stand.

Nate glares at me as I slide into my spot back stage and wait for my cue. “You barely made it.”

“Sorry, Nate.”

His eyes flick down to my pants and the lack of a bulge, and his upper lip practically curls with displeasure. “Do something about that. You’ve worked here long enough to know you’re not supposed to fuck around until after we’re done for the night. What are they gonna think if they go to tip you and you’re as limp as wilted lettuce? They’re gonna think you don’t want them.”

“Sorry, Nate. I’ll fix it.”

I ignore him and shove my hand inside my pants and grip my wrung-out cock. I think of Anthony and Vee. Of her joining the crowd around the stage. He’ll come behind her and use the throng of people to hide the way he palms her ass.

The cum drenched panties he told her not to take off are gone, so he makes good on his promise. He kicks her feet wide and slides his hand up her bare thigh, pushing his fingers into her as he fucks her with his hand while I dance and watch them.

Anyone in the crowd could look over and see too if they only paid attention. If they saw how close he was standing. How pink her cheeks grew and her hips wiggled as he got her wet and ready. The crush of people gets so thick on Saturday nights that they might not notice when he unzips his pants and bends her forward a bit, pushing into her hot pussy right there.

But I hope they do. I want them to inhale the thick perfume of her arousal. I want them to see him fuck her and make her scream when she comes. I want to dance on stage for her, eating up every inch of the sight of her getting fucked by my beta while I’m powerless to leave the stage and join them. My cock fills my hand as I get lost in the fantasy.

“Better. All right, that’s your cue. Go,” Nate says. He slaps me on my mostly bare back. My skin crawls from the contact as the jarring makes me tug my fluffed cock harder than necessary.

The music swells and the crowd’s energy pulses, and I burst through the hidden seam in the black curtain and I dance. The omegas grow wild. They siphon off our untapped sexual energy and feed it back to us. Whoever said omegas were the weaker, more submissive of the three dynamics clearly never met a whole pack of them.

There are about thirty omegas huddled together alongside some betas, their money thrust into the air as they scream and yell to be heard over the music. Thirty to one. They would tear me apart in their frenzy if they could. They’d scratch and claw and bite each other in their heat delirium to claim a virile alpha caught alone and unaware.

Their perfumes blast my nose in an olfactory assault. Someone in the crowd smells like the fourth of July, like fireworks and gunpowder, and the scent is so acrid and sharp I almost sneeze and ruin my footing. Flowers and fruit and sweets and woodsy notes make a nauseating potpourri.

Think of oranges and cherries,I tell myself.

My cock jerks against the tight bright yellow pants and an omega screams. Working a thumb under my suspender, I don’t forget to smile out at the crowd and gyrate suggestively as I smack it against my chest before I slide it down my arm and move to the other one.

As the song reaches its first crescendo, I grip the pants by the hidden velcro seam on the sides and tug. It breaks away like it’s designed to, and I twirl it up in the air before tossing it behind me. I’ve learned not to toss it forward into the crowd. When you do that, some of the costume pieces go missing and then Darlene gets mad. I don’t like it when Darlene gets mad at me. She makes the thongs too tight if you really piss her off.

From the corner of my vision, I see movement at the bar. Anthony lifts the wooden counter and steps away, dropping it down behind him, and then he heads to the stairs. I do hip thrusts while he takes them one by one, my hands slapping onto my thighs to draw attention to my groin.

I barely pay attention to the crowd as I turn, so I’m in profile and do body rolls. Anthony disappears inside the office, and I hold my breath until he reappears by Vee’s desk. The stage lights are blinding and her office is dark. All I can see is the glow of her computer and her outline. He leans against her desk and hands her the glass. I forget how to breathe when she lifts it toward her face.

There’s hardly any detail. Only the shadowy outline of her body against the bright glow. Yet it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

If only I were there. If only I could see it better. Closer. Watch his cocktail made with my cum slide down her throat and fill her belly. Alpha cum is highly nutritious. It has to be for omegas to survive off it alone, plus water for days to a week at a time during their heat. Can’t have the omegas wasting away, after all. You can’t breed omegas who are underweight.

While I stroke my raging erection through my sequin-covered thong, I think of my omega. And I dance. The crowd’s screams fade into noise, and I barely register the song’s end.

I do my required tour of the stage and slip through their grasping, clawing touches. Folded money gets shoved in my too tight thong, and when one omega gets too frisky, I turn around so they can load up the back. If I have to choose between them groping my cock or my ass, I’ll always choose my ass. Before they’re ready to be done with me, I leave the stage.

None of them excite or tempt me.

There’s only one omega I want.

ChapterNine

VERONICA

“Oh,God. This is good. You should make this tomorrow’s signature drink.”

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