"Why did I think this was a good idea?" I uttered to myself in disbelief. It was my first day at a new job. One I'm not proud of.
'Gentlemen's Paradise' read the massive billboard on the most esteemed club in town. I stood outside in the freezing cold, wearing a skimpy outfit and unenthusiastically ready to start a new occupation. It wouldn't be surprising if the people passing by mistook me for a prostitute.
And I know what you're thinking - the answer is no, I am most definitely not a prostitute, nor am I working as a stripper for this club. My expertise would involve waiting on sleazy men with big paycheques and even larger boners in their pants.
Now you're probably wondering why I chose to work here, despite having a distasteful opinion about the place? Well, to put it simply, I had no other choice.
My mother and father had both passed away. To say those were the worst tragedies in my life would be a colossal understatement. My father died when he was 39 at a work-related 'accident' that resulted in a defective crane unhooking itself and colliding with his skull. It was a gruesome death and a devastating shock that changed the trajectory of our lives forever.
As an independent widow, my mother raised us while trying to seek justice in our magnificently flawed judicial system for my father's untimely and negligent demise. However, the court had merely waived it off as a freak accident and ultimately dismissed her claim 'on the basis that the requisite mens rea was not met under the law' - whatever the heck that means.
Despite this injustice, we lived our lives together. My mother, my younger brother and I remained united. Life was tranquil for a few years, but everything good came to an end. My mother was diagnosed with throat cancer, and we were not financially equipped to get her the treatment she desperately needed. She was eventually placed under a medically induced coma during the last stages of cancer, and she departed from this world at the prime age of 46.
My brother, Joel, and I were left to fend for ourselves, living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Thankfully, Joel slept on a pull-out couch, so I had the bedroom all to myself. We really did get along well, but he was quite the lazy little shit and left all of the household chores to me – such as the shopping, cleaning, cooking, paying the bills, and so on. Which meant I had zero leisure time and effectively no life, including no friends or romance.
To make matters worse, Joel was diagnosed with stage two throat cancer a month ago and required urgent treatment. There was some relief from knowing he was still in the early stages and not a lost cause, but if we didn't acquire the money to pay for his chemo soon, it would drastically spread through his organs. It couldn't have happened at a worse time, seeing that I was recently made redundant in my part-time waitressing job at a local diner.
Joel was also a struggling artist, so we barely earned enough money for our own upkeep, let alone thousands of dollars for chemotherapy. In spite of all this, I was adamant about saving my brother's life no matter the cost. He was all I had left, and I couldn't risk losing him.
I applied for hundreds of job advertisements but had no success in getting past the first interview stage. It wasn't because my qualifications were lacking. The economy was declining with rising inflation and taxation rates, accompanied by more businesses shutting down and limited employment opportunities. We were fortunate just to survive in this day and age.
Time was running out, or at least, that's how it felt to me. After additional intensive job searching, I came across an advertisement for a waitress in need. The opening hours were from 7:00 pm until 5:00 am, which was already a red flag, but I assumed it'd be late shifts. In a hurry and out of desperation, I called the manager for an interview and was offered the position on the spot.
Now here I was, entering a lavish club filled with lecherous men and scantily clad women. I suppose fortunately the pay was really good. Joel would be free to start his chemo in less than a month.
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My nostrils flared the instant I got a pungent whiff of sweat, alcohol and bodily fluids. It took several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the naked women graciously swinging on poles and the lewd men ogling them while throwing money on stage as if it were a scene straight out of a low-budget movie.
I immediately regretted my decision to come here, but it was too late to run now. I had to reap what I sowed. Instead, I shambled towards a corridor where I was instructed to meet 'the boss'. The booming sounds of twerk music and the shouts of rowdy men gave me an ear-splitting headache.
"Hey, baby. Why don't you get me a gin and tonic with a side of those sweet buns?" A short, chubby man with scruffy hair and a curly beard hollered in my direction.
'Oh, great, a wanker.' I thought to myself.
He winked shamelessly when I reluctantly made eye contact with him. I channelled all the divine strength I could muster not to bitch slap him across the face. I don't believe in God, but if I did, he was answering my prayers.
"I'll order your drink. Please give me a moment to check in first." I preferred interacting formally with customers. It usually created an impenetrable barrier between us… Or so I thought.
He aggressively banged his fist on the table to draw my attention. "Hurry up. I don't like waiting!" Spit flung from his dry, chapped lips.
'Oh, lord who I don't believe in, please give me the courage not to rip this obnoxious imbecile's lice-infested beard right off of his triple chin.'
Refusing to deal with the drunkard any longer, I scurried into the main office.
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A pair of almond eyes darted towards me when I stepped inside. A tall man with tanned skin and jet-black hair was sitting on a large desk, leaning back comfortably with his legs sprawled out. He wore an expensive but flashy suit and was adorned in a Rolex and a copious amount of gold rings. He was quite the sight.
"You must be the new girl." His voice was gruff and honeyed. I nodded in response, cautious not to say the wrong thing.
"Don't be shy, love. All my girls have to be confident and sexy to make it in this business." His lips curved into a dream-worthy smile, but the alarm bells ringing in the back of my head stopped me from faltering. I knew not to trust him. Men who oozed charm like his were bad news.
"Yes, sir," I replied flatly.
"You're a pretty one but not much of a talker, aye?" He chuckled, grabbing a card from his drawer. "Keep this on you, always!" He tossed it roughly at me. I barely managed to catch it in time.
"It's your ID card. You're provided with a fake name to protect your identity." He leaned forward seductively, flaunting a lady-killer smile. "If any of the fellas get too rowdy, notify my guards immediately and they'll handle the situation."
"Thank you, sir." I held onto the card tightly, growing uncomfortable under his heated gaze.
"Call me, Caine." He insisted in a sugary tone, invoking my heart rate to quicken in reaction to his repressed lust encasing the office. I now realised how 'close' this boss was to his employees and what he expected from them. "All of these girls are under my care. They are my valuable assets. This includes you, CottonV."
I didn't bother asking him what the 'V' stood for. It was so sexually suggestive that it didn't require an explanation. And I just wanted to get the hell out of here.
"Thank you, si...Um, Caine." The awkward tension building up in this room was enough to suffocate me.
"No problem, love." My chest constricted as his stare landed on my cleavage. He slowly licked his lips, imagining the various things he would do to me when my shift was over. "Off you go, CottonV."
My brows knitted, displeased by the demeaning name I was assigned, and yet there was nothing I could do about it. My fate was sealed the moment I walked into this club.
Putting my best foot forward, I made a speedy escape before the boss decided to act on his inappropriate desires.
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As my shift began and the night progressed, I started to feel gradually more like I was locked in a cage with dogs and awaiting to be torn to shreds. Not only was I sexually assaulted whenever I laid drinks on the table, but the strippers absolutely despised me because I was unintentionally drawing too much attention to myself.
"Yo, sexy!" The same bearded man from earlier called out to me. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No." This was the fifteenth time the creep harassed me. And despite Caine's cocksure speech, the guards didn't do shit when I reported it to them. Apparently, my definition of 'a problem' differed from theirs. I found myself disgusted even breathing in the same vicinity as this repulsive creature.
"Awh, come on! Don't play hard to get!" He shouted to me while I headed to the bartender.
"What will it be?" Jaxson asked, flipping a cocktail shaker in the air and catching it with his other hand. He had well-kept auburn hair, bright green eyes, boyish good looks and an athletic physique. Seriously, all the men who worked here were ridiculously attractive.
"Something very strong." I requested, rubbing my temples in a soothing circular motion.
"For the dude at the back?"
"Nope, for me." I sulked, prompting him to chuckle.
"Rough night, huh?" He skilfully made my drink at lightning speed, then slid it across the table to me.
"What is it?" I cautiously sniffed the edge of the glass. An aroma of something sweet and spicy instantly filled my nose.
"I call it The Devil's Temptation," he answered with a confident smirk and theatrical display of jazz hands. He was definitely adorable.
"My kinda drink." I swallowed it in one swift gulp, igniting my throat on fire. Its acrid taste lingered on my tongue. I quickly covered my mouth to suppress an involuntary gag from resurfacing.
"Easy there, cutie. Caine wants you sober enough to serve our VIP guest." He couldn't mask the amused look written across his face. I quickly placed the drinks on a tray and steadied my movements.
"It'll take a lot more than one drink to knock me out," I exclaimed boldly.
"Maybe we can test that theory on your break." He challenged with a kittenish simper, revealing his pearly whites.
'Bless his adorable soul.'
I shuffled on my feet, allowing the drink I had just ingested to settle in and wash away my nerves. Serving the VIP guest appeared more daunting than that creep who relentlessly hounded me throughout my shift. The fact that VIPS have special privileges and could ultimately get away with almost anything was a disturbing thought.
"Good luck!" Jaxson encouraged warmly as I strode into a dimly lit room.
"I'm going to need it," I muttered under my breath, convinced that something terrible was going to happen.
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The room was so dark, I could barely see anything aside from a handsome stranger reclined luxuriously on a red couch. His aura was dangerously unbearable. The hairs on my skin stood upright while my body grew weaker the closer I drew to him. For a second, it felt as though I had caught a glimpse of Lucifer on his throne.
"Um..." I uttered, at a loss for words. What can one even say to a man like him?
My mind went into autopilot mode as I carefully set the drinks on his table, which thankfully served as a barrier between us. That still didn't stop me from locking onto his piercing blue eyes as they intently observed my actions.
His hair was dishevelled and yet still had an air of elegance that complimented his strong features. He wore a black shirt and ripped jeans, accompanied by a leather jacket and combat boots. His muscular, long legs were spread wide, emanating power and dominance. I've only ever read about men like him in novels. I couldn't believe he was real-life proof of their existence.
I felt an immense level of intimidation beneath his blazing gaze. It portrayed neither desire nor lust but, rather, danger and caution. He wasn't even comparable to the men in the back who behaved like stray hungry dogs. He was leagues above them. If anything, he reminded me of a wolf. Not just any wolf, but an alpha among all packs.
I anxiously wet my dry lips as my eyes casually drifted to the crotch of his fitted pants, momentarily distracted by the large bulk underneath them. And no, he was not aroused in the least…
'Oh, God, I'm acting like a total perv!' I shook my head, internally reprimanding myself. 'What makes me any different from those creeps outside if I'm here ogling some guy?'
I tried my best to concentrate, yet couldn't shake off the intensity flowing from his vehement peer.
"Is there anything else, sir?" I stammered apprehensively, hearing the thumps of my own raging heart.
The corner of his lip curved into a devious grin, exuding an incredible degree of provocative charm. My breath hitched and chest tightened, while my body fought the urge to crumble before him.
He continued in a raspy, sensual tone. "Would you be interested in making a lot of money?"
"E-Excuse me?" I fumbled, struggling to wrack my brain around his ambiguous question.
"I have a proposition that might catch your fancy."
'Oh, hell no.' I momentarily forgot that I was in a strip club, where practically every person nearby were sex addicts who lacked common decency. Save as for a limited few, such as myself and Jaxson. On the plus side, his crude remark broke me from his spell.
"With all due respect, I'm only a waitress. I don't engage in sexual favours," I answered curtly, balling my hands into fists.
"I wasn't talking about that." He countered immediately with a frown.
"Then what exactly are you proposing?" I decided to humour him a little before I splashed a drink in his face.
Yes, that may be drastic and most definitely get me fired, but I was sick and tired of the men in this club. They had no respect for me - actually, no respect for women in general. We were nothing short of objects for their entertainment and pleasure. We were never just human beings to them.
"I'll give you a million dollars." His nonchalant words quickly ripped me away from my internal rant. My jaw dropped as I gawked at him in disbelief.