“Okay.” Divan nods. I don’t know what it is, but I like him. “Go help Mike set up, and I’ll have a word with Shayne.”
Maybe that’s it. He’s a stand-up guy.
I help Mike fill the ice bins, restock the coolers, and wipe down the bar. Shayne keeps his distance.
A few minutes after we’re done, Shayne saunters over to us. “Ready for the show?” he asks me, testing the waters. Everything will be fine, as long as he keeps all his appendages to himself.
“I guess as much as I’ll ever be.” I throw a bar rag over my shoulder. Shayne cautiously steps forward as I eye him suspiciously. He pulls the bar rag off me and tosses it onto one of the metal sinks under the bar.
“You don’t want to do that. Show everything you got.”
I nod.
Suddenly the lights flash and then dim, as a crowd of women starts pouring in through the door. They’re loud, rowdy, and amped up. I swiftly realize I have no idea what I’m in for.
Things start to move fast. The bar is getting crowded, and I keep catching guys coming and going out of this little room right next to the stage. You wouldn’t even know it’s there; it’s camouflaged right into the wall. But I keep catching glimpses of light every time someone opens it.
“Staging,” Shayne says as he takes a drink order from a girl dressed in a black corset with a little tiara and a pink sash that says “Bachelorette”. “It’s where the guys get ready for their performance.”
“Oh,” I utter blankly. Because I really don’t know how else to respond.
I start taking orders. I haven’t poured a drink in over three years, but it’s just like riding a bike, and all the recipes come back to me quickly.
For a good twenty minutes I serve a string of Cosmos, vodka and cranberries, and Bacardi and Cokes. There’s an occasional shot here and there, and I’m soon back in a groove that feels somewhat like normalcy. It doesn’t last long though.
A girl — tall, maybe close to six feet — slams a twenty down on the bar and exclaims, “She wants you to come in her mouth.”
What?
I know Daniel said ass pours out around here like water, but I wasn’t expecting that kind of directness. I’m pretty much left standing there static.
That’s when Shayne pulls out a squirt bottle from one of the ice bins and orders, “Open up.”
The girl holding the twenty pulls her friend closer to the bar by her wrist, and she opens her mouth. Shayne squirts some kind of liquid down the girl’s throat until it’s spilling out over her lips. When he stops, she swallows whatever liquid is left, then licks her bottom lip suggestively while staring straight at me.
Hell-o.
She’s an attractive girl, like really,reallyattractive, with thick brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. And for the first time in a long time something inside me stirs. Something that reminds me I’m still a red-blooded American male ingrained with primitive needs and desires.
I watch as she walks off, but not without a quick glance over her shoulder in my direction. My breathing is suddenly shallow, and my little blue briefs all at once feel like they’re trying to strangle me.
“That one wants you bad.” Shayne nudges me. “Want me to come in your mouth, too?” He dangles the squirt bottle in front of me, and I shove him.
“A little warning might have been nice.”
“What fun would that have been?” He grins impishly. “You should have seen your face. I wish I had a camera.”
I grab the bottle from his hand. The word CUM is written in big, black letters across it. “What is it anyway?” I squeeze some into my mouth.
“Whipped cream vodka. Appropriate, no?”
“I guess.” I laugh and squirt some on his chest.
“Hey! I’m going to be sticky all night now.” He wipes off his skinny chest with a bar towel.
“Just have someone lick it off.”
“I think if anyone is going to get licked tonight, it’s you.” He thrusts his chin at the crowd, and the brown-haired cutie is staring blatantly in my direction.