Quickly, I exit the subway and then walk a few blocks to the Club Z compound. It’s a large granite building built around a courtyard with a garden and a fountain out front. The double doors are huge and imposing, but they swing open easily upon my arrival.
“Sierra,” greets the doorman, Chester. “How are you?”
I smile, slinging my duffel over one shoulder.
“As good as can be. Just getting ready for my shift.”
He nods and with that, I head through the luxurious lobby to the back, where a staff elevator awaits.
I go up, and then the doors open to an unremarkable hallway carpeted with a few doors on the right. I enter the one closest to me, and step into the women’s locker room. Inside, tall gray lockers line the walls with a couch against the back wall, and a table with six chairs sits in the center for breaks.
I look around, and a sigh of relief falls from my lips when I see that I’ve got the room to myself. Thank goodness. It might seem odd considering I work at a private sex club, but I’ve always been pretty modest about showing off my body. So just changing into one of my scandalous bartending outfits makes me self-conscious, and I especially don’t love being naked before other women who are physically perfect.
After all, Club Z boasts the most gorgeous hostesses, and as a result, the women who work here look like sultry models from magazine shoots, or Las Vegas showgirls ready to go up on stage. But the difference is that quite a few are curvy, and I appreciate that. It makes me feel less alone, even if I’m behind a bar the entire time.
Quickly, I open my duffel and then pull out my clothes for tonight, which are laughable. They’re not more than two tiny scraps of cloth comprising a tiny black skirt resembling a handkerchief as well as a black bikini top with a series of complicated straps. But hey, if it gets me tips, then I’m all for it.
Hurriedly, I pull off my clothes and squeeze my curves into the ensemble before sliding on my heels and taking a look in the mirror. My breasts are Double D’s and leaking out the sides and bottoms of the top, but I guess that’s what guys like these days. At least it covers my nipples. And my skirt leaves nearly nothing to the imagination with the bottoms of my round ass cheeks peeking out below the hem. But it’s stretchy, and clings to my hips in a flattering manner. Clearly, our male clientele appreciate curvy women.
But just as I’m arranging my curls in a pretty arc over one shoulder, the door to the locker room flies open so fast that it bangs against the wall, making me jump. Heart racing, I turn to see who it is and mentally cringe when my eyes fall on my manager, Benny.
“Um Benny?” I venture in a tentative tone. “This is the women’s locker room, so I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”
Humor lights up his beady little eyes and he just shrugs his shoulders, making his oversized neck muscles pop. A lot of people probably find Benny attractive because he’s built up like He-Man. He’s got huge, bulging biceps so that his shirt sleeves look like they’re going to rip at any moment. Veins cover his arms and legs, so prominent that it’s a bit scary. Plus, he has no neck to speak of, kind of like a bulldog. It’s not my cup of tea because a physique like this must be the work of chemicals, but honestly, Benny’s free to present himself as he likes. Instead, the thing I can’t stand about my manager is the way he always looks like he’s undressing me with those beady eyes of his, the blue orbs running lasciviously up and down my curves kind of like what he’s doing now. Ever the gross horndog, Benny licks his lips with his eyes still glued to my breasts.
“Oh, this is the women’s locker room?” he says in a fake-innocent voice. “I had no idea. But it doesn’t matter because we’re the only ones in here, and you’re not going to tell, right Sierra? I mean, I’m your boss, so who is there to tell?”
He cackles loudly and all I want to do is get the hell away from him. But I don’t want to lose my job either, so I force a smile while closing my locker. Then, I try to step around the odious man.
“Um, right. Well, it’s time for my shift to start, so I better get out there. The bar will be getting busy soon.”
But Benny just sniggers and moves so he’s in front of me again, blocking my way.
“Actually, I need to chat with you first, sweetheart. You’ve been working here for a while now, right? Two months? Three?”
“Two,” I say in a fake-polite tone. “Why?”
“Well, I’ve got a bit of a business proposition for you.”
Those beady blue eyes drop to my breasts again and it takes all my willpower to keep from vomiting in revulsion. I can guess what kind of proposition he’s thinking of, and I’m damn well not interested. But conscious that this is my manager, I muster up a smile and shake my head.
“No, I’m good thanks. Club Z has treated me well, so I’m not looking to moonlight or anything.”
But Benny doesn’t move. Instead, he sniggers again.
“Hear me out, Sierra,” he lisps. “Because this opportunity is very special, and you’d be perfect for it. In fact, when I first heard of the opportunity, I immediately thought of you.”
Oh gross. This is even worse than I thought. However, I manage a tight smile.
“Sure, what is it?”
He sucks his lip before grinning toothily.
“It’s for a private auction of sorts, actually. It’s something that you’d really enjoy.”
I’m confused and my forehead wrinkles.
“You mean, like a private wine auction? I know some of the members here are serious wine collectors, and there’s an extensive cellar at Club Z. Or maybe a jewelry sale? Is that what you mean?”
Benny waves his hands, chuckling in a high-pitched voice.
“No, no, it’s a different type of auction. For body parts, so to say.”