Page 81 of Knot Happening

Tatum: So you’re inviting yourself over now too?

Easton: Obviously… I read an article about how to be a good friend. Inviting yourself over, and showing up without notice, was in the top five.

I snort a laugh.

Tatum: You read an article?

Easton: Of course. I haven’t had a friend since I was a child. I want to be sure I’m doing it right.

Tatum: That is both sweet and sad. Fine. You can pick me up after I get off.

Easton: And then you can get off after I pick you up. ;)

I pull on a long t-shirt dress to hide the outfit and slip my feet into sneakers. My raggedy ones.

As soon as I step into the club, an uneasy feeling hits me. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle. I look around, not seeing anything out of place. I don’t like this feeling.

I frown, but I have to shake it off. I don't have the time to worry about what might be causing my uneasiness. One time, it was just a frog… Sometimes, I overreact.

I head to the back, where the lockers, vanities, and floor-length mirrors are. Stripping off the dress, changing my shoes, and dropping my bag in my locker, I check my reflection. I look hot, but I have sad eyes after my reflective mood. I force a smile, and it looks fake. So instead, I go with sassy. I still look sad, but hopefully working for those tips helps brighten my mood.

Lady is already at the bar and smiles warmly at me as I walk up. Despite her outward appearance of scary badass, she's a great girl. She makes me feel welcome and at home in a place where she could easily treat me as competition.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel like I’m being watched again. When I turn around, though, the feeling isn’t as strong, and I don’t see anyone paying me any kind of particular attention other than the standard horny leer. There are already a lot of people here, and the dancers are hard at work. The room is full, but I swear, I felt someone’s gaze focused on me.

I ignore it…again… and head to my first table of the night. Forcing the pep into my step.

Eight frat boys, wearing matching shirts that signal their frat status, all perk up as I approach, and I bite my lip. I would normally avoid a large group of Alphas like this at all costs. The ones whose leering gazes linger longer than they should. But this is what I get paid for. To let them stare. To encourage it, even. So being put off by their stares is silly. Ridiculous even.

I shake off the uneasy feeling I got the moment I walked inside and plaster on a smile for these men who are probably perfectly nice. And if they aren’t, that's what we have bouncers for.

“Hello boys, my name is Baby. Anything I can get you? Drinks, a dance?” I ask sweetly, as I wiggle into a free spacebetween two of the Alphas and rest my weight on my elbows on the bar height tabletop.

I’m trying not to fidget under their assessing eyes. They linger, which in this environment is the whole point. The reason I bent over on their table to take their order. I look at my sparkly pink pen. It’s so cute…the perfect distraction for just a moment.

“Are you on the menu, sweetie?” the frat boy closest to me asks, as he reaches out to touch my exposed thigh. I give him a pouty look.

“I am. But you’ll have to pay for the privilege, sugar.” My tone matches his fake sincerity. He seems the type to expect a freebie.

“You know your broke ass can’t afford a dance from this beautiful woman. Order a drink and let her move on to someone with more than thirty bucks to spare,” the man on my other side says with a smirk, making the entire group of them chuckle.

“Damn, shots fired, Leroy! I was just flirting. Nothing wrong with that, right, sweetie?”

“That costs extra.” I wink, letting them know I’m just teasing. “But your friend gets a free sample,” I tell him with a grin, before plopping my butt into the defender's lap.

I look at him over my shoulder, and he blushes bright red. Cute. Obviously, the uneasy feelings I was getting aren’t coming from this table. I take their orders, sitting comfortably in the nice guys lap the whole time. As I stand to retrieve their drinks, he pauses me with a very soft hand on my wrist.

“Th-that was…hot,” he murmurs, handing me a crumpled bundle of cash. They already started their tab with the bar, so I know this is simply a tip for me. “I enjoy your scent, Omega,” he adds, and I blow him a kiss as I tuck the cash into the small pocket strapped to my thigh for change.

I return with their drinks, drop them off, and promise to check on them soon. My coworkers and I are assigned specific tables and any service tips from them are ours, but everyoneworking can approach all the tables, trying to sell a dance or private room, or other experiences.

My next customer is very obviously loaded. The man, an Alpha in his late fifties, is sitting alone in a well tailored outfit that screams ‘fuck you’ money. He seems to be focused on the stage, and when he hands me a hundred for a beer, I return with ninety-five in change. He waves me off, telling me to keep it. He just asks that I return frequently to check on him. My favorite kind of customer. He knows what he wants, and he’s easy to please.

“If you need some company, my name is Baby,” I tell him as I tuck the cash into my bra. Lady showed me that. Draw their attention to your chest. The man smirks, but doesn’t say anything else.

I spend the night rushing about, serving drinks, and making small talk with friendly customers.

Three Alphas in a group, one woman and two men, pay for a hands-on floor lap dance, and tip nicely.

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