Matthew’s POV:
“Twelve Bacardi 151, eight Flaming Lamborghinis, and seven Blue Lagoons for table six!” “Four Bloody Marys, nine Overdoses, and eleven Fire Breaths for table two!” Michael and Jeremy shouted over the throbbing music, the sound grating against my ears. I quickly filled the shot glasses, arranging them on trays. They moved with practiced ease, delivering the orders to the tables with a fluid grace born of years of carrying heavy loads. Their build—solid muscle and efficient movement—made even a fully loaded tray look effortless.
Leaning against the wall, I exhaled slowly, observing the scene unfolding before me. Seven years, and I still hadn't grown accustomed to it. Sweaty bodies grinding on the dance floor, lithe dancers twisting around poles as cash was stuffed into their g-strings, private strip shows, lap dances… and sex. This floor hosted the standard fare. Venture through the back door, turn upstairs, and things escalated—became intense.
“Hey cutie. You available?” A massive, muscular man loomed over my five-foot-three frame, a hundred-dollar bill held between thick fingers. I shook my head immediately, displaying my red wristband. He groaned and moved on. Thank goodness. I loved this band.
As you might have guessed, I worked at a gay bar—women were welcome, too—where anything could happen. The staff were issued color-coded bands. A red band meant “no,” a green band meant “everything but sex.” I was the only one with a red band, and I meant it. I wanted to experience intimacy with someone I loved, but I doubted that would ever happen.
“Dude! You rejected another one? That’s the tenth guy offering for your ass, and they’re all fucking hot!” Kyle slammed his hand against his forehead, sinking into a seat in front of me.
“I’m not interested. You can have them.” He stared at me as if I’d sprouted another head.
“But did you see how much money they’re offering? You won’t need to worry about money if you just slept with them! I can’t believe you’re gay and can stand here doing nothing, not even getting horny, watching all those scenes unfold.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’m fucking horny now, even without watching.” Why I agreed to be friends with him was a constant mystery. He was giving me a headache.
Yes, I’m gay. Yes, I need money. But I won’t lose my dignity for it.
“And look! Another one’s coming for you again!” He groaned as another large man entered my line of sight, sending a shiver down my spine. Tattoos snaked across his arms and neck, and he held a lit blunt between his lips.
“$300. Upstairs, now.” I shook my head reflexively, displaying my red band. He snorted dismissively. “How about you? $300.” He nudged Kyle after noticing his lack of a band.
“Sure. Let’s go.” Kyle shrugged, pocketing the money before following the man.
“Learn from him, kid. You’re no longer ten. Be a man and grow some balls.” He spat the words before grabbing Kyle’s ass as they walked away.
At least I have manners, unlike him…
“Hey Matt, did you hear that the owner of this bar will be changing soon?” Joshua lifted himself onto the counter with casual grace, displaying a green band.
“Really?” I hadn’t known. I shook my head, clueless.
“Yeah. I think we’re changing bosses next week. I wonder if he’s hot.”
“Do you think he’ll change the rules?” And the pay? I desperately hoped the pay wouldn’t drop. I couldn’t afford it to.
“Unlikely, but possible. Depends on the owner, I guess. I just hope he doesn’t make me stop pole dancing. It’s easy money.” He offered, for the third time in the seven years I’d been here. Pole dancing? Almost naked? Large men as an audience? No.
“No thanks. I’ll stick to bartending.” Before he could reply, the crowd roared for him to return to the stage. He obliged, disappearing into the pulsing rhythm.
“Three shots of Firecracker, please.” A man slumped onto a seat, massaging his temples.
I arranged the shots neatly, and he slid fifty dollars across the bar.
“Thanks.” He downed a glass, then looked into my eyes with his chestnut-colored eyes. I felt myself getting lost in them, then jolted back to reality as he looked away.
His eyes are pretty…
He finished his last shot, grunted a “thanks,” and walked out as if the alcohol hadn’t touched him. A first.
“Here. Your pay for today.” Rick, the owner, handed me an envelope as usual before closing time.
“Thanks, boss.” I counted $120—the standard amount—and cleaned the table before heading upstairs to the staff quarters. Rick was kind enough to provide rooms as long as we performed our jobs well. Climbing into my bunk, I hid the money under my pillow. I’d give it to them tomorrow…
So yeah, chapter one is up. I know it's not great, but it will be better in the following chapters. This chapter was needed to explain Matthew’s life.