by Sebastian Ex
“Whatever. A phone can be stolen and all my numbers will disappear. This way, I have everyone’s number in here.”
He crosses one leg over the other and shakes his head while he chuckles. “Who’s the new chick on the floor?”
“Her name’s Ella.”
“What the hell is she doing here? She’s ugly, and seems like she can barely carry herself, much less dirty dishes. What’s going on with you? You’re losing your touch.”
“She’s not ugly. Awkward yes. Ugly no.”
“Did you get a good look at her? She’s like a bean pole. She’s tall, and her cheeks are concave ‘cause she’s too skinny, her hair looks like it’s never been brushed and she isn’t a normal Onyx Club employee.” He knits his hands together and rests them on top of his head.
“She’s not ugly. Yeah, alright about the rest of it, but she’s not ugly.”
“Fuck me! You got wood over her.”
“No, I didn’t. We needed another busperson to wipe down the tables and do all that shit, so I hired her.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“You know I don’t touch any of the employees…unlike you. Tell me about Sandy.”
“It’s Penny, and you know she doesn’t work here. I don’t fuck where I eat, either.”
That statement makes me laugh. “You’re an idiot, and the only reason you haven’t fucked half these women is because I stop you.” He flicks his wrist at me, dismissing what I’ve said. “Tell me, does Penny like to play?”
“As a matter of fact,” he says with a smile, “she loves to play. What are you doing Friday night? I’m thinking we take Penny out for dinner, and take her back to my place.”
“That’s a possibility. I’ll see how the week pans out.”
“Well,” Brandon stands and starts walking out of the office, “I’ll go run some reports, but my friend, we had a great month last month, and we’ll get a nice bonus for it.”
“Good, I’m thinking of updating my car.”
“It’s only a year old.”
I shrug my shoulders, lean back in my chair and flick to the camera showing Ella.
Brandon walks out, and I assume, goes toward his office.
I watch the cameras for a while, but Ella’s barely visible. So I decide now is as good a time as any to go and get myself a drink from the bar.
“Mr. Weston, what can I get for you tonight?” one of the new waitresses asks as I take a seat in the VIP section.
“If you have to ask, then you’re no longer needed here. Go.” I flick my wrist at her, sit back on the bench seat and watch the crowd as I watch the show. But more specifically I’m watching Ella.
Dianne, one of the regular waitresses waltzes over with a glint in her eye. “Sir, your Ardbeg Scotch.” She places the glass on the table and watches me for a moment. “Sorry about Miriam. As you know, she’s new. She wasn’t sure what your choice of poison is.”
My eyes go to her and Dianne looks at me like she wants to fuck me. She bites her lower lip and she gazes at me from beneath her eyelashes. “And clearly neither do you. The drink is fine. Leave.” I turn away, dismissing her from my presence.
I’m not into Dianne, though she’s made it obvious – many times – she’d be more than happy to let me do what I want to her.
As I lift my tumbler of scotch and bring it to my mouth, I spot Ella. She clearly looks like she’s out of her comfort zone. She’s trying hard to keep the tables clear of empty glassware and wipe them down, though she’s clumsy and hasn’t got the rhythm of it down yet.
She moves from table to table like a little mouse. Her head is down and she’s not making eye contact with any of the patrons. The club is dimly lit, but the lights from the stage are bright enough so I can see her. The music is heavy, playing a sensual song about sex and love. Ella’s hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she looks out of her element in her uniform, too. She stacks the dishes from the table she’s cleaning and starts to leave, but the guy sitting at the table holds his empty glass up to her, shaking it while giving her a disgruntled look.
Ella’s face wears a strained smile as she looks around her, obviously looking for a waitress to help. I turn to look at the bar, and the new girl, whatever her name is, is leaning up against the bar chatting with Dylan, one of the bartenders. The way her body is positioned, one leg propped up on the foot rest, her elbow on the bar as she laughs and giggles at whatever Dylan is saying, tells me she’s flirting with him and not doing her job.
Dylan’s not really paying attention to her. He’s busy serving the other waitresses coming up and giving him orders, but the new girl isn’t doing shit.
I look back to Ella, and the guy’s still waving his glass in her face, and she’s looking like she’s just about to burst into tears.
I can see her mouth constantly repeats, “sorry”, though of course I can’t hear her from over here. But her body is collapsing into itself, her shoulders are shaking, and she’s got her head tilted down in a way that tells me she’s quickly losing any control she was holding onto.
I toss back the rest of my drink, stand and go over to Ella.
“Just get me another drink. It’s not that hard to do. What are you, a retard?” the guy says, his female friend starts laughing.
“Are you alright, Ella?” I ask, standing behind the ass who’s insulting one of my staff.
Ella looks up at me, and loses it. She drops the dishes she had in her hands, they fall and shatter at her feet.
“See, she’s a retard,” says the guy, laughing gruffly and turning to his bimbo date.
I put my hand on his shoulder, and squeeze with only partial strength. The guy winces in pain as his shoulder drops. Obviously he’s uncomfortable. I lean down so my mouth is near his ear, “I would suggest you and your companion leave and never return.” I catch sight of Billy and Ted, two of our bouncers, who are making their way over to me. Both are dressed in identical dark suits, each wearing an earpiece, and each built like a tank. They get to the table, straighten their backs and look to me for direction, “Please escort these two off of the premises, and put them on the list,” I say as I let go of the guy’s shoulder.
“Sure thing, Mr. Weston,” Billy responds as he takes the guy by the upper arm. Ted gently puts his hand around the woman’s elbow and smiles politely at her, encouraging her to stand without a scene.
When I refer to ‘the list’, I mean the ‘do not return’ list. I motion for Dylan to send over the new girl. “Sir, would you like another scotch?” she asks, smiling, as she comes to stand in front of me, ignoring the mess on the ground.
“Clean this up, then go wait for me outside my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Her eyebrows shoot up and she does her version of a sexy eyelid flutter.
When I turn to leave, I notice all previous chaos has been restored to peace. The show seamlessly continued, and other than the few tables close to the asshole, no one saw or noticed.
I go toward my office to wait for– what’s her name? The fury bubbling away inside me is going to push me to do something I don’t want to. I can feel my body trembling from the anger. My hands are tightly clenched into fists and I’m grinding my jaw in rage as a storm brews inside me, waiting to be unleashed on someone who should have been doing her job.
I enter my code into the security door that leads to the dressing rooms, and walk past the staff room. I’m about to climb the sixteen steps to the second floor, which houses my office, the storeroom, and Brandon’s office. But as I walk down the hallway, I hear sobs and stop. I know it’s Ella.
“Ella?” I call as I try to determine where the sobs are coming from. The crying hushes, “Ella?” But I hear nothing. I go into the staff room and she’s not there. I begin to check all of the backstage areas but I can’t find her. “Ella!” I shout once I’ve been through the entire back. The only place left is the broom closet and the cupboards in the kitchen. “So help me God if you don’t come out here right now, I won’t be happy.” I push my hand thro
ugh my hair.
I hear a door creak open and within a few seconds, Ella’s standing before me. Her shoulders are slumped, her cheeks are wet and her head is lowered.
“Look at me,” I say as I take a step closer to her. She counters my step and retreats further into herself. “Ella,” my tone is forceful, though I think I should calm it down.
I see her visibly gulp. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs no louder than the meek little kitten she appears to be.
“For what?”
“For dropping your plates, and breaking them. You can keep my pay for tonight.” She takes a breath and wraps her arms around her skinny body. “As soon as I get another job I’ll pay you back the money for the shoes.” She turns to leave.
“Are you quitting?” I call after her as she walks away.
She stops walking and turns to look at me over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to fire me.”
I lift my hand and beckon her back to me with my fingers. Cautiously, she returns. Her posture has improved and the tears have stopped. “Closer,” I say when she’s still a few feet away from me. She takes another small step forward and stops. “Closer,” I demand of her. Her eyes look up at me and she shuffles forward. “Closer,” my tone drops as I’m telling her what I want.
My damned body reacts strongly to hers. My cock springs to life, becoming harder and harder with each rise and fall of her chest. She’s standing only half a foot away from me. I’ve made her come to me, pushed her out of her comfort zone by making her accept me into her personal space.
“Closer,” I say once more, knowing there’s only one more step between us and we’re close enough for my breath to touch her cheek.
Slowly I lift my hands to rest on her shoulders. They’re tight with tension and I can feel her trembling beneath my touch. But after only a few seconds pass, I feel her relax and take a deep breath. “Now look at me.” Her puffy, red eyes gaze up to me. The brown is deep and intense, but the real Ella is hiding behind the depth or the color.
“I’m so…”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Go home, have a bath, a glass of wine, and come back tomorrow.”
“I like showers,” she says while she watches my face.
“I said you’re to have a bath. Tomorrow when I ask you, you’re going to tell me you had a bath and relaxed.”
“I am?”
“You are. And you’re not going to lie to me, because I’ll know, and I won’t be happy.”
“You won’t?” Her eyes fill with tears.
“I won’t, and you don’t want to see me angry.”
Her lips slightly curl up as she looks down and nods. “Okay, Matt. I’ll do what you said.”
I don’t bother correcting her this time. She’s too fragile for me to get angry with her. “Go home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She nods again and leaves, arms still wrapped around her body like she’s protecting herself. From what though, I’m not sure yet.
I remain in the same spot until she’s gone. Then I take a deep breath and go deal with – what’s her name.
I take the steps two at a time and she’s bending by my office door, ass in the air as her hands pretend to fix the buckle on her high-heeled shoes. I’ve seen this maneuver many times. Her ass is up in the air because she wants me to admire it and spank her. She thinks I’ve summoned her here to play because I’m interested in her body.
“Stand,” I say in a deadly angry tone.
I see her shoulder shake as she does. I would bet my BMW her pussy is thoroughly drenched, and her body is shaking because she’s aroused.
“Sorry, Sir I was just fixing my shoes.” I roll my eyes.
“Wait here.” I go to Brandon’s door, fling it open, step through and close it behind me.
“Hey,” he says as he looks up from whatever he’s working on.
“How long has the new girl worked here?”
“You hired her yesterday.”
“Not Ella. Marian or Mirabelle – whatever her name is.”
“Miriam? She’s been here three weeks. Why?”
“I’m taking five hundred out of the safe to pay her off. We no longer need her.”
“What did she do?”
“She wasn’t doing her job.” I walk over to the safe, put my code in and take five hundred dollars out.
“Does that mean you can fuck her now?”
“I don’t always think with my cock.”
“Does that mean I can fuck her now?”
I shake my head, walk over to his desk, count out the five hundred in front of him. Brandon nods, chuckles then goes back to doing his paperwork again.
I leave his office and Miriam is still standing as I told her to.
I unlock my door and push it open, securing it against the wall so it doesn’t shut. “Inside.”
“Yes, Sir.” She giggles. I roll my eyes – again.
“Don’t bother sitting. Here.” I give her the five hundred dollars. Man, she’s one dumb bitch, because instead of questioning the money, her eyes light up and she closes her hand around it tightly.
“Would you like me to suck you off?” she eagerly asks.
“You’re fired. Get out. That’s your severance pay, and truthfully you don’t even deserve that.”
“What?! Why?”
“You were too busy trying to slut around with Dylan when you were needed on the floor. Your services are no longer required.”
“I’ll try harder. Please, Matt,” she splutters between tears.
“It’s Mr. Weston, unless I’m fucking you, and then it’s Matthew. Now get out.”
Her shoulders are shaking and she’s doing that stupid, girly, crying thing. The one where they try and make it worse than what it is.
“Out.”
She turns and leaves.
Good riddance to trash.
Three
As I drive toward my apartment I can’t help but think about Ella. Where the hell was she hiding? Why is she so frightened and always looking so cautiously around her?
The hum of the radio in the background is doing nothing to try and get my mind off her. The drone of the tires on the road isn’t distracting me either. Because every time I think of her, I have to adjust my cock, which is rather difficult to do seeing as I’m sitting and driving.
I pull into an all-night gas station and turn my car off. There’s nothing worse than having to face someone with a giant hard-on straining beneath my jeans. I pull on the suit jacket slung over the passenger seat and get out of the car.
As I pump the gas, I look around the deserted street. This gas station is only a few blocks away from the club, so I’m still in a shit part of town. The buildings are adorned with heavy graffiti, and a lot of homeless people take shelter just a few blocks over. There’s always an eerie calm that hangs over the night in this part of town, almost like something’s just about to happen – though nothing ever does.
I spot a few abandoned cars strewn along the side of the street, like trash left for someone else to dispose of. One car has its hood propped open, and although it appears completely viable, it must have been stolen and stripped for parts.
I finish fueling up and pay the bored attendant behind the security of thick glass.
As I walk out and get in my car, my mind goes to Ella again. Her intense brown eyes…I wonder what secret she’s hiding behind them. But mostly, I think about the way I’ve been reacting to her.
She’s not much to look at. She’s certainly nothing like the women I usually play with. She’s mousy, dull, maybe even below average in appearance. And God damn it, she refuses to call me Matthew. But for whatever reason, my body keeps reacting to her and my mind refuses to expel her from my thoughts.
As I start the car and drive out of the gas station, a figure getting out of one of the cars catches my eye. It’s Ella. She’s in her work uniform, and she’s barefoot as she gets out and leans wearily against the car door.
What the hell?
I pull over across th
e street from her and she quickly turns her head to look at me, wary until she recognizes me. I can see she’s embarrassed I’ve seen her, but I don’t give a damn. She’s obviously in trouble and her banker boyfriend isn’t anywhere to be seen.
“What are you doing here?” I ask loudly as I get across the street to her.
Ella stands with her eyes glued to me, her mouth open, and speechless.
“I asked you a question, and I’ve told you I don’t like repeating myself.” I put my hands in my pockets once I’m standing beside her.
“My car broke down.”
“And where’s your boyfriend?” She looks down at her bare feet. “And where the hell are your God damned shoes?” She remains quiet. “So help me, if you don’t open that mouth of yours and speak, I’ll take you over my knee.”
“I…I...” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Obviously, whatever she’s about to say is going to be a lie.
“I’m warning you, Ella.” The anger’s starting to take over, and I’m just about to lose my slim hold on what little control I have.
“I can’t afford a phone. And…”
I turn to look away before I smash my hand through her car window. That’s when I notice her car has a pillow and blanket in the back seat and it looks like that’s where she’s been sleeping.
“What the hell is this?” I point at her car. She starts crying and this time she buries her face in her hands. I just can’t leave her like this. Nor can I stand to watch her cry. She’s not like other women. They turn on the waterworks to get something. But her, her tears are real. They come from real sorrow, real pain, and real devastation. “Come here,” I say as I step toward her and embrace her in a protective hug.
Her body goes totally rigid, but I refuse to let her go. I smooth her hair with my left hand as I pull her closer to me by splaying my fingers out on her lower back with my right hand. “I’m sorry, Matt.”
“Where are you living?” I almost whisper to her.
“In my car.”
I pull away from her and cradle her head in my hands, and with the pads of my thumbs I softly wipe her tears away.
“Why are you sleeping in your car?”