Why Am I Standing Outside His Door?
I stare at the door in front of me and run a hand through my scraggly hair. Fuck! Why am I here? Why am I standing outside his door? I could just give his portfolio back to him when I see him at the club tomorrow. I don’t need to be standing here in this dimly lit corridor right now.
I fumble with the clasp on my brown satchel as I pull out the old and dog-eared folder I found in the breakroom at work, before I glance back up at the door while playing with a strand of hair. Why am I doing this? Is it because I want to see that gorgeous face of his? Yes. Is it because I want him to pay attention to me? Huh, I wish.
I clutch it tightly under my arm as I take a few deep and calming breaths. I don’t even know if he’s at home or not. He could be out with some woman. Still, I knock lightly on the dark mahogany wood and wait patiently outside for several long minutes, trying to ignore my slightly sweaty palms. Maybe he’s not at home. Maybe I’m wasting my time.
But the door finally opens, and I’m greeted by a tired and disheveled looking Ellis. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded blue jeans, and looks just as gorgeous as ever. His thick, black hair is a sexy and rumpled mess, and a dark scruff covers his rugged face. But I don’t like the look of annoyance that flashes across his piercing blue eyes upon seeing me. I’ve clearly interrupted one of his “make-out” sessions.
I clumsily bite my bottom lip. I’m sorry, I hurriedly sign to him with my hands, my cheeks flushing a horrible red when I get a glimpse of the girl who’s sprawled out on the couch behind him and smoking a cigarette. I shouldn’t have disturbed you. . . I’ll go. I turn on my heel, about to leave, when he suddenly speaks.
‘It’s fine, Iris. What did you want?’ That Southern drawl stops me in my tracks. Jesus, it’s enough to make anyone stop and listen.
I hold up the folder. You left this in the breakroom. I expect him to look relieved, as I imagine it’s important to him, but his expression doesn’t change as he looks at it.
‘Oh, thanks,’ he mutters, purposely brushing his fingers against mine as he takes it. It’s enough to make the hair on my arms prickle, and all I can do is gaze deeply into his dark and hungry eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights.
I swallow thickly. Yeah. . . no problem. I guess it’s good we live next door to each other, right?
He frowns at my hand movements. ‘Right,’ he agrees after a long pause, before he tilts his head a little to the side while looking me straight in the eyes. ‘Is there anything else you wanted?’ He’s clearly noticed the way I’m idling on his doormat, and his voice has grown even huskier. I didn’t even know it could go that fucking low.
I lick my suddenly dry lips as I take another peek at the girl whom I can just make out behind him. I wonder what it would feel like to be in her position right now. What would it feel like to be pleasured by him? My sex starts to throb at the thought. God, how can he turn me on so easily? I’m not usually this easy. I’ve never been this easy. Well, there is one thing, I sign to him. Leanne is having some kind of party tonight and. . . well. . . would you like to come with me? It’s not what I wanted to ask him, but it slipped out before I could stop myself.
‘I don’t do house parties, Iris. They’re so fucking dull.’
My heart quickly sinks like a heavily lobbed stone. Jesus, I know he can be blunt at times, but I didn’t expect him to shut me down like that. Why couldn’t I have just told him what I really wanted? It was clear that he was hoping I would ask him for something more than just a date to a party. Shit! I’m so useless when it comes to flirting. It’s just not something that comes naturally to me.
Oh, right. . . of course. . . I just thought I would ask, you know? I didn’t want you to feel left out. I flash him a small smile, but I know it must look fucking awkward, and I feel my cheeks grow even hotter as I hastily turn around and rush back to my apartment. Shit! I can’t take the humiliation any longer. That conversation didn’t go well at all. I made a fucking fool of myself. I always seem to act like an idiot when I’m around him. He just has that effect on me somehow, and it doesn’t help that I can still feel his heated gaze on my back as I disappear back inside my apartment. I knew I shouldn’t have disturbed him.
‘Adonis! Adonis! Adonis!’
The chanting coming from the crowd is surprisingly loud for a Thursday night, and it’s more than just a little deafening. You would think I would be used to the constant screaming and catcalls after four years of working at a strip club, but it can still be a little overwhelming, and some of the screams pierce right through me as I clear away empty glasses. God, it’s so damn loud in here!
As I pass by the packed out tables with their mismatched chairs, I glance over at the large stage with its black curtain backdrop where Ellis – aka Adonis – is doing his sexy strip routine for the wolf whistling throng of women who outnumber the guys tenfold tonight. We always get far more horny women in here on the nights that Ellis performs, and to be honest, I can’t blame them for screaming the place down. He’s putting on one hell of a show tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many of our patrons distracted by his muscular arms and defined abs before, and seeing him tilt his cowboy hat to the ones who are holding out dollar bills to him just makes them lust over him even more. God, he makes it look so easy.
After clearing away a few glasses which sit on a table at the very back of the club, I head into the restroom just to make sure there aren’t any glasses sitting next to the wash basins. You’d be surprised how many people take their drinks into the restroom with them and then leave their empty glasses behind. Damn lazy bastards.
The swing door creaks slightly as I push through it. I don’t bother closing it. The artificial lights which are buzzing overhead are bright and blinding. Fuck! I forgot how dark the actual club area is. I blink several times as I walk further into the dank smelling restroom, only to come to an abrupt stop. A young couple are going at it by one of the sinks. I almost walked into them because I couldn’t fucking see. She’s pinned up against the wall by the broad-shouldered guy who's trusting himself into her, but she’s clearly not enjoying it. She struggles to push him away, telling him in a weak voice to stop, and when I spot the tears which are trickling down her cheeks, I feel a sudden crushing weight on my lungs. Fuck! The horrible, repressed memory I’ve kept hidden at the back of my mind for so many years suddenly comes back to the forefront, and I hastily set the empty glasses which I’m still holding down on the ceramic top before I can drop them. Shit! I know I need to do something, or say something, and not just because they shouldn’t be doing something so fucking private in a public place like this. They surely know the rules. There’s to be no jacking off or sexual intercourse in the restrooms. It’s clearly stated on the bright red sign. But how am I meant to say anything when I don’t have a voice?
I bash hard on the open wooden door, hoping it’ll get their attention. The guy is the first one to look at me, and his eyes grow wide with horror when he sees the club t-shirt which I’m wearing. He bolts for the door, pushing his cock back into his jeans as he does and leaving the tearful looking girl to sort herself out. I ask her if she’s okay, but then I realize that she doesn’t understand sign language as she awkwardly pulls her panties back up while staring blankly at me. She probably thinks I’m some kind of freak, and I wouldn’t blame her. But it’s the helpless look which I can see in her brown eyes, which are stained with mascara, that makes my trembling hands drop down to my sides. It’s a look that’s so familiar to me, and it almost makes me tear up myself.
She hastily swipes at her wet cheeks, before she shuffles out of the restroom herself while keeping her head down, and all I can do is watch her go with a painful and heavy heart.
‘Hey, we need beers over here, sweetheart!’ a balding guy shouts to me from where he’s leaning against the bar top with his two rough-looking mates.
Fuck! I need to pull myself together. I hastily grab the few empty glasses which are still sitting on the ceramic top, and hurry back over to the dimly lit bar on unsteady legs. God, that scene threw me through a fucking loop. It takes all my effort to force an apologetic smile onto my face as I start pouring out three beers. I’m glad I had stepped in, but at the same time I wish I could have somehow consoled the girl who was clearly not enjoying the love making session as much as her date. I take it the guy had been her date. . . maybe even her first date. . . and I feel my hand twitch as I gingerly set down the last beer in front of the three men. No. I’m not going to think about Greg right now. I’m not about to let those memories resurface.
‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ the plump, blond-haired guy says in a rather flirtatious tone, and as I take the few dollar bills which he’s holding out to me, I notice that there’s a slip of paper amongst them which has a phone number hastily scrawled on it. I sigh inwardly as I scrunch it up and chuck it into the wastepaper basket. Fuck! Not another guy showing an interest in me. He must be in his late forties, at least. I know I’m not that young myself. I’m in my early thirties. But still, why is it always the creepy older men who take an interest in me?
I leave the bar to clear away a few more empty glasses, before I look back over at the stage where Juliet – aka Persephone – is now seducing the licentious crowd with her evocative routine. She spins around the pole like the talented dancer she is, even going as far as to wrap her long legs around it so she can ride it. Her large breasts are barely contained in the skimpy, black bra she’s wearing, and her toned ass is scarcely hidden by her lace body shorts, which she likes to show off to the lustful men who are watching her by purposely bending down right in front of them, so they get a clear view of it. Ellis may be the poster boy for this place, with his brooding photograph on the many posters which cover the cherry red walls, but Juliet is the big draw for the guys here at Houston’s popular all-night strip club, The Devil’s Cage.
I rest my chin on my palm as I continue to watch her work the crowd. God, what I wouldn’t give to be up on that stage. What I wouldn’t give to be in her place right now, and spin around that metal pole to the beat of a chart-topping song while hundreds of young men watch and ogle me. It’s a dream which has plagued me for years, ever since my college days. I even applied to be a stripper here at this very club four years ago, but I completely screwed up my audition. Not only did I trip over my feet and hit the stage floor, which resulted in a bad nosebleed, but my loose stiletto flew off during the routine and landed on one of the tables, leaving a horrible dent in the wood. Even to this day I haven’t been able to live it down. It’s a miracle that Sharon even hired me as a bartender after that disastrous performance. But she saw something in me. She liked my character and my confidence, despite my selective mutism, and was willing to give me a chance. I’ll always be incredibly grateful to her for having faith in me. Not many bosses would.
After serving countless customers for five long hours, I’m finally allowed to take my well-deserved break. I breathe out a deep sigh of relief as I make my way to the break room. Jesus, I really need a cigarette, but I forgot to pick up a new pack on my way to work this morning.
I shuffle into the break room, expecting it to be empty, but I find none other than Ellis standing by the wall of metal lockers instead, and my heart flutters at the sight of him. Shit! I wasn’t ready for an unexpected meeting like this.
