In The Night Time E-Book

Elouise Edron

• Herausgeber: Berlinable GmbH
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 310

Beschreibung

Bianca is a good girl trying to keep her life together, even though it all feels like it's about to fall apart. Uni courses are spreading her thin and to pay for her education she has to work late nights as a waitress. With everything else it takes to be a twenty-something today, Bianca is looking for someone to save her from it all. Enter Paul DeGrain, a producer in the porn industry, and he's more than interested in Bianca. After a rough start that involves a drink dumped on his head, he helps Bianca land a new role at an exclusive gentleman's club, Golden Girls, where she learns the ropes of running a brothel all the while opening her mind to infinite sexual possibilities, and developing a soft spot for a certain pornographer. Bianca is her own worst enemy and makes bad decisions, a lot actually. Her impulses get the best of her and she doesn't always listen to her intuition, but in the end, she desires love and security and a man to wrap his arms around her until morning light. Will the night time bring Bianca the happiness she's been searching for?

Leseprobe

IN THE NIGHT TIME

Elouise Edron

Artcover: Giada Armani

Copyright: BERLINABLE

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

I dedicate this book to all those with dreams yet to be fulfilled –

never give up on who you want to become because theymay change the world.

CHAPTER ONE

CHEMISTRY

"Chemistry?" 

The question came from behind. I peered over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of a stocky, clean shaven man in a finely tailored suit, a scotch in hand.

“Who's asking?" I retorted somewhat aloof as I fiddled with my pen and returned to my notebook. I was familiar with men his age vying for the attention of younger women, thinking they’re quick witted enough to score digits or a hot date.

"DeGrain is the name," he said as he moved in front of my stool, noting the papers strewn all over the bar. "I assume you're a university student?" he went on, as if not getting the hint that I was otherwise occupied.  

"I am. And a very busy one at that. I’m going for a high distinction this year, practically married to my studies." I gave him nothing, hoping he’d tire of me, and move along in his semi drunken stupor. It was near the thick end of the year, and assignments teamed with exams were ever present. This interjection, therefore, was something I could really do without.

"And that vodka, it helps with your stress levels, I presume.”

Was he for real? Here I am, working through my break between classes and work, and some middle-aged schmuck wants to get into a conversation about my anxiety? 

"You assumed right." 

End of conversation. Please.

I bit my lip, trying to find the line in my textbook in a bid to refocus.

"Can I also assume you're studying here because it’s on your way to work?" 

I stopped failing to find the passage for a moment; did he just read my mind? I couldn’t imagine he understood the need for people trying to better themselves’, let alone with a ‘high distinction’ average.

"Yep. And if you wouldn't mind, I've got a lot to get done before work," I said, dropping my head to hand in support. Despite his rude demeanour, part of me wanted to give him the attention he was seeking.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. He could just be a lonely, middle-aged man who really needed to talk. Perhaps I shouldn’t be such a brat, and just let him have a moment of my time.

I attempted to retrace the last sentence I was on with my finger. My eyes were heavy, and straining to see under the dim lighting at my favourite, usually quiet, inner city bar. While I battled with the idea of taking time out to soothe his ego, I knew our conversation really wouldn’t help me get ahead in any aspect of life.

"So, this job, it pays your rent, gives you some money to get drunk…"

Okay. There it was. He’d crossed the line, and my inner bitch was just about to let lose in a much less lady like manner than I had managed throughout our entire interaction.

"Look, I'm sure this conversation starter works in whatever game you're usually trying to win, but I've really got to get this done before I head to the bar." I glared at him, noticing his perfectly blue eyes. I’m usually a sucker for baby blues, but his attitude was clouding any ounce of interest I may have briefly held. Back to the books.

"Ahh, a waitress. Just as I figured. You have that whole resting bitch face going on. I mean no disrespect, it’s kind of endearing". 

Did he just call me a bitch? That’s it.

Pen down, he had my fullest attention. I swivelled my stool to face him, bouncing off my chair and before I could even open my mouth, he produced a hand to be shaken. I looked him directly in the eyes, seething with the mere suggestion.

"Look, 'DeGrain',” I said with muted respect, “I've tried to be nice, and now you're really testing my patience. Let's cut to the chase, what do you want?"

My heart was pounding. All I wanted was to take the notes I needed in the spare time I had.

"Well..." He gestured with his still outreached hand, as if asking for my name.

Taking the bait, I finally gave in and our hands connected. Energetically, I sensed a softness within him, something calm, placid and almost inviting that I had missed through our otherwise unwanted interaction.

"Bianca," I said with a guarded stare, before folding my hands back across my chest, wishing I hadn’t just divulged that key piece of information.

"I'm a talent scout for an international company that offers unique, FRESH faces. I thought, since you’re obviously juggling a lot, you may be interested in what I have to offer. You've got the look, one I know our clients love - and that attitude..." he said, chuckling as he looked me up and down.

This guy, with all his obvious wealth, just strolls in acting like he owns the place and now, he’s hitting on me with the expectation that I’ll just fall for his bullshit? Annoyingly, he had me intrigued.

“Go on then. What’s the nature of this work you speak of?” I asked, not ready to let naivety get the better of me.

"What I'm trying to say is that if you work for me, you'll never be worried about your finances again."

My eyes widened as I looked down at what I was wearing, suddenly thinking that perhaps I’d given him the very wrong impression of my ‘talents’.

Oh, fuck. Was he propositioning me? Does he think I'm some kind of hooker? Crap. It must be the hooker boots.

My hair was in a messy bun on top of my head, and my bangs were wiry, and out of control. I'd blackened my eyes for work, and quickly changed in the restroom to save time later, already donning my black short-shorts and low-cut tank that were part of my work ‘uniform’. I suppose it did look a little like I was soliciting, but... 

Wait. No, I didn’t. I looked like a girl in her twenties that studies her ass off and works around the clock she can to pay her bills. Plus, my uni notes kind of say it all. I was just trying to study to get my degree in nutritional science. In fact, I didn’t look like I was trying to attract any kind of attention, let alone that of some guy looking for a notch on his belt.

"You've got some nerve. waltzing in here thinking I'm going to be paid for sex. I am not a prostitute!" I raised my voice, looking over my shoulder for a security guard.

He moved his free hand to land softly at the underside of my chin, redirecting my gaze to meet his. With a widened smile, those baby blues glared into mine and jolted me into a shiver.

"I'm not suggesting you sleep with me, love. I'm suggesting you think about working that hot little body of yours into the adult industry. My company produces special movies for high paying clients, and you have the exact look they've been hounding me for,” he explained with a softened voice, that made me feel ever so at ease.

“Look,” he went on. “I get you're under the pump, so how about I just give you my card. Call me when you get off your low paid job, and head back to your crappy shared apartment with nothing in the fridge but pasta and red sauce”

I blushed, looking down at my feet, only to notice the hole in my boot I had come to ignore. I pulled my face away from his hand, and froze for a moment in a mixture of fear and unwelcomed awe. His assumption of my world was undeniably correct. The juggling act of a life I led, left me just enough money to get by, and ‘down time’ was a thing of the past.

Part of me wanted to slap him across the face for being so accurate, yet another wanted to understand more about the enticing details of ‘the industry’. Could it really be something I’d be good at? Would it give me the windfall I truly craved? Would it be discreet?

With another two years at Uni still, my financial situation was strained, and help from my parents was something I would forever be without. My dad’s absence was notably greater after my mother’s death and now that he had followed his child bride to the opposite end of the country. Not only did I barely see him, but he spent everything he had on keeping her happy, and ‘in vogue’

Despite his obvious brash tone, I picked up a strangely calm energy about him that made me curious, and somehow safe and warm all at the same time. A good guy. Without questioning, I let my intuition guide me as ever, and slowly reached for the card in his outreached hand.

"I'm in a rush, doll, take it or leave it." He raised his eyebrows as he glanced over my bursting cleavage as a final adieu

"Fine”. I glared at him, somewhat annoyed at the connection between us that seemed to alight. I pinched the card from his fingers, and squashed it into the back pocket of my shorts. “I’ll give it a thought before I toss it in the trash.”

"All I could ever ask for – you’re a star in the making, and you know it,” he said, winking.

With that, he sculled his drink back, before slamming the empty glass on the table and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. His breath heated my chest, and sparked a tantalising chill down my spine, lending to a curious pang of excitement between my legs that was completely unanticipated.

Meanwhile, I looked at the clock. 8pm. It was time to run to work if I wanted to be on time and continue being the good little girl I strived so desperately to be

CHAPTER TWO

FALLING INTO LINE

"Shit shit shit. I'm so sorry I'm late!" I said out of breath, bursting into the kitchen through the swing doors. But only my colleague Matt was there, my boss nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” I asked, still processing my run from the train station and up two flights of stairs to the doors of Firehouse.

“Basement,” Matt said. “Surely he’ll want your help changing over the kegs…”

I flew back down the stairs, weaving my way through the foot traffic. It was a Friday night, and the bar was already packed with corporate after-work drinkers. I held my breath as I opened the door to the cellar, bracing for Dan, the livid bar manager, on the other side.

"Late again, Bianca?" His words immediately cut me down to size. I searched his eyes for a hint of forgiveness. "I can't keep covering for you; I've got a bar to manage – not kegs to change". 

"I'm sorry, I've just got a..." 

"I don’t want to hear it. Get to work. It’s hectic out there and I’m sure you could use the tips."

He knew my financial situation was tight, which is probably why he put up with me. I’d given up my second job a few months back as the uni assignments piled up, and without the support of loving parents, like most girls my age, I was barely making it. I’d made a promise to better my future through study, and if days of sexist customers trying to take advantage of me was what I had to deal with right now, I supposed I could make it through. The work was easy enough, it was just unfulfilling and relentlessly mundane.

I grabbed a badge and apron, and clocked in ten minutes late. My day really wasn’t going to plan, especially the whole ‘being confused for a girl willing to sell sex for a living’ thing.

***

Another 2am finish, and I was slightly tipsy from the few drinks I threw back to keep me calm.

Friday nights were busy, which meant I’d barely had a minute’s rest the entire night. Now though, after I had clocked out and was on my way home, that was my favourite time of the night. Quiet. Still. Peaceful.

I took my usual route home, walking under the light of the moon and letting my anxiety extinguish despite the daunting darkness. Looking up at the nights sky made me think about the enormity of the world around me, and how small my problems were when compared. Even though I was exhausted, these nightly strolls inspired me to keep pushing forward, making me believe I could achieve anything I truly put my mind to. The night time assured me that dreams were mine for making, and I knew that once I had achieved my degree, nothing and no-one could hold me back from the life I truly desired. No more studying at bars and getting harassed and having to work at as a waitress. Once I became a nutritional scientist, I would not only be capable of having control over my life, but I’ll be able help others make huge overhauls in their life too – even if it’s only changing their diet.

The street lights were bright enough to make me feel safe, but the wind ripped the warmth from me. My limited wardrobe barely got me by, especially as the winter months neared. A car would get me home safely, but this desire brought a tear to my eye as I thought about everything I had given up to become a student. If only I had more in my life.

I wished I had more money to pay the mounting bills. I wished my life was more exciting, that it afforded me more leisure time, that it would be the envy of others. I wished I could be open enough to trust again, to have people in life that cared for me, to have even just one person I could truly rely on.

Despite my brave front, that little girl inside was scared shitless about the changes I knew I had to eventually make. I knew what I wanted, but I felt so lost sometimes that the life I desired seemed more like a fantasy. I dug my hands deep into the back pockets of my shorts, finding the sharp edges of a card. His card. 

"Pfff. DeGrain. Thinks he's some kind of big shot. What a phoney!" I said to myself out loud for all to hear, but no-one was around. I was in the dead of the night, constantly looking over my shoulder for threats, wishing this wasn’t my reality. Sighing to the relief of my solitude, I grabbed my phone and immediately typed his name into Google, ready to call his bluff.

Holy shit. Pages upon pages of information and photos of the man I had simply brushed off.

"Paul DeGrain is Director and Talent Agent for private adult film company, ‘Pulse Erotica’ since its founding in 2009”, his LinkedIn profile declared. I didn’t even know that social media allowed any kind of linkage to the adult industry.”

I needed to know more about this man that oozed exhilaration. BUT, was he for real?

I searched some more, and found a leaked video. I couldn't believe my eyes! I immediately recognised the soft blonde curls and piercing blue eyes of the starlet currently gracing the latest gossip magazines on every shelf, of every grocery store across the nation. Perhaps she was ‘Hollywood royalty’ these days, but it turns out, her start was much like mine, chasing anything that paid the bills in order to get ahead.

"Holy shit! He actually wasn't lying!”

I spent the rest of the walk home with a smile brewing on my face, ruminating over my brush with stardom. I had rubbed shoulders with someone so stimulating, someone so extraordinary, and he was interested in me; yet it felt as if I had made it all up just to escape my ordinary reality.

Perhaps, I thought to myself briefly, this was the lucky break that could lift me out of my impoverished life. After all, if an A-list celebrity could do it and become a success, surely, I could too.

CHAPTER THREE

THE WEEKEND

It was Saturday morning. The only day each week I didn't have to wake to my alarm blaring at some ungodly hour. My eyes opened to sunlight. 7:17am revealing itself in illuminated form. Heaven. No university or work for me today, and I was ready for some serious self-care. 

I stretched my limbs reaching for all corners of the bed, arching my back like a cat. I needed to shower, shave my legs, wash my hair, paint my nails, make breakfast, go to the gym, prep some meals for the week, make some snacks, and later I had to prepare for a blind date that my house-mate insisted upon after she, allegedly, met my ‘perfect man’.

I wasn't enthralled, but she assured me that “he's such a nice guy!” and it had been a while since I went on a date. A long while in fact. Don't nice guys always finish last? I didn’t date often, and when I did, I found it a drag. Most guys my age were heavily into their careers and didn’t have time for much else accept drinking away the weekends, and spending Sundays hungover on the couch. It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for in a mate, but for now, I didn’t have many options.

Perhaps the first point of order, was a little procrastination to mentally organize my day. I pulled back the covers, revealing my raggedy Minnie Mouse night shirt, with stitching on the hem coming undone. I'd had it for so long, it was starting to get ratty, yet it made me smile, remembering the time my parents had taken me to the ‘happiest place on earth’. I wished I could afford to go back there right now to escape this stressful normality I had formed around me. 

The apartment was deathly quiet. I couldn't hear my housemate’s voice, so assumed she stayed at her boyfriend’s place. The quiet patter of rain droplets hit my window pane, which didn’t make me want to rush off to the gym, nor even get out of bed.

I slid the second drawer of my bedside table open to reveal my special ‘toy’. It was a gift from my best friend Angela, who now lived in South America after following her boyfriend to teach yoga and "be at one with nature." As a parting gift, she’d bought me a big black dildo in lieu of a boyfriend. I’d been single for the past two years, ever since my ex broke my heart, and to be fair, I was a little starved for action.

I held onto its gooey flesh taking it back under the covers, leading the tip down my torso, and towards my magic spot. I grabbed the unsuspecting coconut oil off my nightstand, and lathered some over its end, allowing two fingers to slide gently inside, warming up the climate for some heated action. I was hungry for it.

I pulled down my panties, and let them constrict around my ankles, feeling a little bound. I started to play with my clit with the residue of oil left on my fingers living into my latest fantasy…

A brooding man entered my room, picking me up with his hulking arms, holding me tightly against his bare chest, and fucking me hard against the wall in my nightie. His strong biceps rippled with veins, pulsing blood through his body and with his cock so hard it would perfectly hit my G-spot. His sweat dripped onto my body, soaking my nightshirt, revealing my nipples that stood up so hard they rivalled his rock-hard member. He held onto my throat, and told me to be quiet and do as I was told, and that if I played nice, he’d leave as soon as he was done and wouldn't hurt me. With one breath, he flipped me around to face the wall, pulling my hips into his.

I grabbed my toy, and inserted it into my now dripping pussy. My thoughts returned to the imposing man having his way with me, pounding me hard and deep. I loved the idea of rough sex, yet all the partners I’d had were so timid, treating me like a princess, or worse yet, a prude. Too polite. Too concerned they might offend me with foul language. Too… boring.  

"Bang!" 

Shit! what was that? I stopped in my tracks. I was still panting at the scenario racing through my head, my sheets wet with sweat, and my heart racing. I quickly hid my little black friend deep under the covers as if I was about to be sprung by the police.

"Heeelloooooooo?"

Samantha was home. I heard a giggle and then her boyfriend Rick’s voice followed, laughing about the man at the bakery with the rough Irish accent that they couldn't understand.

"Yer want some brad than?" he asked before they both burst into giggles. 

My moment had passed. No way I could’ve climaxed thinking about an Irish man with a French stick. Well, not this time at least.

I wiped down 'Big Black' with tissues from my night stand, and put him to rest in his satin sleeping bag. It had been almost two years since I'd had sex, and aside from my rather lively mindset; I was otherwise high and dry. 

"Morning Sam, morning Rick," I said loud enough to reach down the long hall.

"Good morning BIANCA," they said in unison like I was a school teacher. Pfft. Stupid lovebirds. Can't do anything alone. 

I threw on my robe and fluffy pink slippers, and headed for the bathroom to finish calming down and spray myself with something a little more tropical than the scent of a woman on heat. More than anything, I wanted to slip into the tub with headphones, and a glass of champagne like that scene from Pretty Woman, but alas, the last time I could afford anything more than a clear skin wine was well before my student life. Shower time then. 

With a towel around my head, I put on some tights, boots, a black leather mini and a high-necked, figure hugging black tank with a small gold 'Om' symbol on the back. While I might not look like the typical yogini, it was s the only practice that kept my head above water and stopped me from drowning in my own sorrows.

Pursing my lips at the mirror, I checked out my side profile, enjoying seeing a more defined jawline after battling with the post-break-up bulge that had taken two years to defeat. I wasn't perfect, but in my eyes, I probably never would be. I was a work in progress.  

"BYE!" I yelled out to Samantha, but I could only hear giggles coming from her bedroom and rolled my eyes at the thought of her getting lucky when she had so rudely interrupted my own little slice of paradise. 

***

"I can't believe it's six o'clock already!" I exclaimed to my now solo house mate. "I haven't even finished my meal prepping for the week, and I need to leave in ten minutes!"

“That's what you're wearing?" Her question was scornful as she checked out my ripped tights and messy hair. "You could at least TRY and look nice. I did mention he’s not the one-night stand type that just wants to fuck and forget?"

I shot her a glare. “Watch your mouth!”

"Learned from the best," she said with a smirk.

She was right, I cussed a lot more now than I ever used to. I just had more to swear about lately. 

"I AM wearing this, and if he can't accept that I'm not one of those high-class dolls that can afford designer digs, then he's not for me anyway," I retorted sticking out my tongue.

"Dolls? Did we time-travel back to the fifties or something?"

Ugh. DeGrain had left an impression on me. "Haha, yeah, and it's time for this desperate housewife to get out of the kitchen and get what she really wants," I replied with a wink. I raised the hem of my skirt to reveal the top of my lace stay-ups, and promptly walked out of the room.

"Bianca!" she yelled down the hall as if following me. "Don't break his heart!"

I slammed the front door behind me, putting on my most positive, beaming smile that set an intention – tonight, I might just meet someone special.

By the time I arrived at what I thought was to be a restaurant, my emotional state was now one of misshapen hope as I entered through the door of a blue-collar bar several suburbs away. Another night, another bar I thought to myself. Was this what life had really come to?

Scott was typically handsome; blue eyes, perfectly slicked blonde hair, a shirt from Abercrombie, perfectly tailored skinny jeans and leather boots that had been freshly shined. Just like his smile, it all seemed a little fake. He couldn't stop word-vomiting about his job, and the pending promotion he was about to get for all his hard work down at the accounting firm, telling me tirelessly about how he had exceeded all his KPI's, and the lavish new car he was eyeing off as a gift to himself. He had perfect teeth, and a laugh that filled the room with a sense of enjoyment; but God was he boring.

I sat opposite him, smiling and nodding, sipping my mojito and wishing I was at home watching rom-coms in my pyjamas. My mind wandered back to DeGrain, his smug existence and the nerve he had to offer me a job in porn. 

"What do you think Bianca?" 

"Hmmm?" I snapped out of my trance and looked up from my empty drink. "What do I think about what?"

He looked at me puzzled. "What do you think about volunteering for my new charity?" 

Oh god. He was nice. Too nice. Not only was he having a successful career, but he spent his spare time creating charities and clearly, working out. He was a catch if ever there was one, and I wished I was one of those girls who could be satisfied with the good guy. But there was something missing. He didn’t have an edge, he didn’t have a mischievous streak; he didn’t have that essential little something that made me excited to hear more about his life, how he lived, and what adventures would potentially unfold if I followed the white rabbit down the hole of extraordinary excitement.

"I wouldn't have time" I smiled back with pursed lips. "Between uni, homework, and the bar, I barely have time to go to the gym, let alone take on anything extra. It was only a few months ago I had to quit my other job, and that was something I actually got paid for.” 

"So, I guess you wouldn't have time for a boyfriend either...?"

My smile dropped. "I don't really have time for anything." 

Silence. Our eyes shot towards the ground.

"I'm just going to go to the loo." Like a proper lady, I announced my brief departure.

I pushed the door open with a whack and let out a deep breath. Looking into the mirror, I saw tired eyes glaring back at me with my liner smeared under my right, and the lace from my bra showing under my top.

"Fuck!" I huffed out loud. I was in such a rush to get ready, that I didn’t quite arrange ‘the girls’ properly, and the heat from the shower had meant my skin wasn't cool enough to keep my make-up set in place. I fixed my bra as much as I could, went to the toilet and then headed back to the table.

I stood in front of him. "I've got an early start tomorrow, and I really should be going. Are you coming with?" 

I couldn’t believe I just said that. My eyes widened and wished I could’ve taken it back, but instead, I confidently just went with it. Clearly, I wanted sex, and my mind was craving it just as much as my body. Typically, I wasn’t the type to bring a guy home for one night, but given that I barely dated, I felt like I could just let this one slide.

His jaw dropped, and I watched him grin awkwardly as he stumbled over his words. 

I'd done it now.

"I'll get the bill!" he declared almost falling off his seat to follow me out of the bar, wallet in hand, leading me out to a cab.

***

We returned to my place and I showed him around, ending the tour at my room. I sat down and patted the bed. He walked towards me, pulling at his shirt collar, and twiddling his fingers like an idiot, talking about how hot it was before sitting down.

With all my pent-up sexual energy from this morning’s debacle, I lunged at him. I knew what I wanted, and I was damn sure he was going to give it to me. I felt like the surly man from my fantasy earlier in the day, about to take exactly what I needed, without remorse.

His hands toilingly moved from my waist to my breasts and he started fondling one like it was a bag of sand. I didn’t know if he was nervous, or just uneducated in the realms of seduction, but he could definitely use some pointers on what women really like in the bedroom. He was squeezing so hard, I had to pull his hand away. I distracted him by locking my lips on his, my tongue searching his mouth, while fumbling with his shirt buttons; one... two... three...

He tugged on my top, trying to take it off, but it got stuck under my breasts. I pulled back from him with a hand in front, and stood up.

"Wait," I said, rolling my shirt back down and undoing the zipper at the side. He was smiling nervously as I lifted it off, standing before him. I dropped it on the ground seductively, and promptly straddled him, pushing him back onto the bed with forceful play.

I kissed down his chest, lightly licking and nibbling at his nipples, and using my nails on the sides of his ripped abs. I followed the grooves of his body with my fingertips all the way to the top of his pants, and undid his top button, followed by the zipper.

Satin boxers. There was his flaw. Clearly his mother was still buying his underwear, and the fact that they were covered in Harry Potter quotes told me he wasn't prepared for the night to end this way. 

My fingers got under the elastic band as I smirked, tonguing the trail of hair leading to his now throbbing hard-on. He gazed into my eyes, and I pulled his pants down revealing a penis that despite its great girth; did not stack up in length. Slightly perturbed, I went to wrap my mouth around his cock when he screamed out: "Wait!"

I stopped. Sitting back on his legs I looked up at him puzzled, while my pussy was aching for release.

"I've got a girlfriend."

For fuck’s sake. 

I slid off him sideways and slumped to the ground with my head resting against the side of the bed, feeling like a right loser.  

"Get out," I whispered. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was THROWING myself at this ‘nice guy’, and he had a girlfriend waiting for him, most likely at their shared home.

"I'm really sorry Bianca, you seem like a lovely -"

“- Stop.” I cut him off before he could continue his pity party.

My hand shot into the air, as if conducting an orchestra.

"GET OUT!" I ordered with authority in my voice, bowing my head and then pointing a stern finger towards the door.

“We are on a break, and I just…”

I jumped up, still wearing just a bra, and glared at his shaking eyes.

“OUT!” I repeated, half covering my face with my hands as if to hide from this most embarrassing moment. I couldn’t believe I bothered with dating, it never ended in my favour.

He scrambled to grab his clothes from the floor, and politely left my room without another word. When the front door shut timidly, I sighed, sitting back down and resting my head against the base of my bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Of course," I said out loud. "There AREN’T any nice guys left.”

CHAPTER FOUR

FIREHOUSE

Sundays were usually quiet at Firehouse, but tonight we had a private function in the VIP room. Dan had put me on table service. He told me to dress up and "put some effort" into my appearance, and to ensure the customers always came first.

I’d been working at the bar long enough to know how to offer service as expected, but as of late, my ‘bar wardrobe’ could use some sprucing. For the event, I had put on my best pair of black dress shorts, black patent heels and the serving shirt with the bar’s logo, buttoned just low enough to reveal ample breast in my best push up bra.

Dan's eyes dropped to my breasts the moment I walked in.

"Looking good Bianca," he said as his eyes swiftly returned to mine, clearing his throat, as if he had just said something he instantly regretted.  

"I want you to take care of the function tonight, and that means no lip. They've just celebrated a milestone with their company, HUGE SUCCESS, so it's going to be a late night with lots of drinks, lots of drunken idiots, and I’m sure a fair share of discreet drugs. Be on guard for any mischief, and call me if you need anything.”

"Yes Dan, I know, I know. It will be fine. I’m used to taking care and orders from drunken idiots all the time. It’s kinda in the job description.” I responded casually, trying to chill him out. Events like these were our bread and butter, and if we ensured our clients a good time, they were likely to book again, and tell their friends. Word of mouth was our best form of publicity, and I knew Dan had great plans for the place.

By 9pm, the bar was pumping, and the sights that came in and out of that room were jaw-droppingly inquisitive. Men in pinstriped, expensive looking suits, with slicked back hair, elegant silk ties and pocket squares. Women with fake breasts, inflated lips and thick make up over their Botox pumped faces.

There was laughter, loudness and loiterers in dark corners carrying on like they were in the privacy of their own bedrooms. I was a little uncomfortable being eye-balled like a piece of meat ready for the slaughter; regardless, I did my job, and I made sure I didn't talk back.

"Bianca?" asked a voice behind me as I was wiping up a spilled drink.

I stopped in my tracks trying to link the voice to a face.

"I thought it was you."

I spun around and came face-to-face with DeGrain.

"Seriously, you again?" I asked, casting my eyes away with a loud exhale, dishrag in hand. "I’m working, don’t you think you could find someone else to hassle?"

I attempted to use my nicest voice, accompanied with the realest of fake smiles. I didn’t want to piss off Dan; I’d finally managed to gain back a smidgen of his trust.

"Clearly. But the other girls don’t put up a fight like you do," he replied with intensity, as the left corner of his mouth curled up into a snarl. "Have you thought about leaving all of this and coming to work for me?” He raised his hands to the room around me, his eyes following before they settled on mine. “The industry is waiting for a star like you."