Prologue. (Edward)
This is not a regular night, like every other night before it. I could tell that before work started. I don’t know exactly what was going to happen, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good. I have a feeling, as my best friend Bethany would say. I drink another glass of mojito. I allow myself to savor this wonderful taste for a moment. I close my eyes and smile.
“Don’t you think you’ve had a little too much already, honey?” Bethany’s familiar voice asks me. I slowly open my eyes, looking up into my friend’s green eyes. She smiles at me. Most people would think we’re a couple because I call her “sweetie” and she calls me “love” and we sometimes make love, but I’m not her boyfriend. I’m not saying she’s ugly, but I work as a pole dancer at a gay bar, which in itself means I’m gay too.
“No, honey,” I answer her with a flirtatious tone and a wink. Her cheeks heat up, but Bethany quickly looks away from the other people, checking to see if anything is missing from the tables. She’s working as a waitress while I dance. We both know each other well, as we’re arguably the oldest employees at the place, so everyone else only listens to us. I turn to the bartender, thank him for the drink, and hand him the glass.
“So, Edward,” the girl begins. “When’s your next show?” I glance at my watch. It’s 10:14 PM, and my next ‘show’ isn’t until 10:30 PM.
“In sixteen minutes.” I tell her. Bethany smiles broadly. I frown. The music gets louder, drowning out the men’s commotion a little. “What’s up, Bethany?” I ask my friend. She just sighs dramatically and, leaning on the tabletop, gently tilts her head to the right. Her red, curly hair flutters in the air. I slowly turn my gaze to a cute man of about twenty-six, who is smoking alone and staring at me without taking his eyes off me. When he sees that I have drawn his attention to him, he smiles slyly and flirtatiously at the same time. I answer him in kind.
"And what do you want to say about him?" I ask my friend, turning my attention back to her. The girl rolls her green eyes.
"He wants you." She tells me. "Besides, the guy is rich." I look at the same man again. His shiny black suit and black shoes and gel-coated hair show that he is definitely from a higher league than the other people here. But there is a problem - I hate physical contact after... something has happened. Only a few people can touch me. After all, he is rich. So I can endure a few minutes with him. It is a small problem. Besides, you have to get rid of that damn PTSD somehow, right?
"We'll see," I mutter to my friend, who looks at me, sensing that I'll go to him anyway and quietly cheering for me. Bethany has always cared about me, maybe too much sometimes, but I've gotten used to it over time. "So, you're saying I should have sex with him?" I ask, this time more assertively. Bethany nods enthusiastically.
"Of course!" she shouts. I think for a few seconds. Damn it, I tell myself.
"Great, I'll go with him." I say, but just then the announcer stands on my dance floor.
"And now I want to invite everyone's favorite and the one who pulls people, especially men, to the stage, Edward Grey!" the girl shouts and the bar starts screaming, screaming with joy. Because, yes, I forgot to remember that I am one of the sexiest dancers in this amazing bar. Damn, I curse myself in my mind as I walk up to the stage.
"I want to say that you danced amazingly tonight," the man I had been watching earlier tells me, who has been watching me all evening. I remember dancing: touching my cock for the men, slowly teasing them until they were practically begging me to take off all my clothes and get naked. And of course, I had to satisfy the crowd eventually, so I took off all my clothes, as they wanted, and then I danced naked for about five minutes.
"Thank you, sir..?"
"Call me Mr. Maximillian." The man politely finishes my thought. I smile, nodding. Mr. Maximillian looks at me intently for a few moments. "But seriously, I'm really curious, how did you learn to dance like that?" the man asks. For a moment, I freeze. The question throws me off track. And what am I supposed to say now, I ask myself in my mind. I can't just say that my father kicked me out of the house because he found out I was gay, so I took a fairly easy job - I became a pole dancer.
"The past has taught me a lot." I said after thinking for a while. Fortunately for me, the man didn't want to continue this topic of conversation anymore, probably realizing that I was uncomfortable and decided to get straight to the point. Unexpectedly, he takes out five hundred bucks and holds out his hand with them. I frown. "What's this for?" I ask. The man chuckles, seeing my confused expression.
"Nothing," he shrugs. "Just an advance."
"An advance for what?" the man grins crookedly.
"Oh, so you don't... how should I put it..?" the man thinks, still holding the money outstretched in his hand. "I thought you provided sex as well as you danced." My face pales at such an obvious question, but I should have expected this, right? There's a reason my friend Bethany told me to go and fuck him. Damn, I completely forgot my purpose during the dance, I scolded myself. I was just about to go, but then I was called on stage. And when I'm dancing, I forget a lot of things.
"Well..." I continue and smile. "I don't provide sex services anyway, but I can give you one, Mr. Maximillian." I say and wink flirtatiously. The man seems to be satisfied with my decision.
"So you agree?" he asks again.
"Of course," I mutter. "I'm sorry for my misunderstanding," I say.
"Then take the money, because, like I said, this is just an advance payment for your coming." Satisfied, he says lustfully. I very slowly take the money from the man's hand.
"And when should I come to you?" I ask. The man shrugs.
"Whenever suits you," he decides. I look at my watch, which is calmly counting down the time, pinned to my wrist.
"There are two hours until my next dance, so... we can go now." I answer. "If it suits you, Mr. Maximillian." I quickly add.
"It suits me."
The room where I’m supposed to have sex with the sweetest and most polite man I’ve met tonight is very simple, apart from the fact that it’s a VIP area and only a few men are allowed in. It has one huge bed that could easily fit five people and still have room (this is done so that group sex can take place here), the walls are painted a soft red to create an erotic image, and the wooden floors are matched with gray sofas and tables where you can drink, but on which men mostly make love.
“Pretty fancy,” the man compliments, but I just laugh sarcastically.
“Either I’m used to this look, or it’s not fancy at all,” I tease him.
“You come here often, I guess,” Mr. Maximillian comments. I sigh.
“Well, not really.” He raises one eyebrow.
"Why don't you, a hot man like you, come into this room more often?" he asks bluntly. I squirm in my seat for a moment, wondering if it's worth talking to a stranger about my life.
"Well," I say. "I have PTSD, so not every man can touch me," I say. He chuckles quietly.
"So I'm special?" he asks, moving closer to me. I realize I have to answer yes, because otherwise he won't feel special and it will quell his desire to fuck me, which means I won't get paid.
"Yes," I say. "You, Mr. Maximillian, are very special," I mutter. The man grins, and again he's pleased. I see his cock hardening. I climb onto the bed.
"You really know how to turn men on, don't you?" It's not a question, although it sounds like one. Rather, it's a statement. I nod.
"Do you want to know what else I can write, Mr. Maximillian?" I ask the man flirtatiously.
"Oh, yes..."
"Then take your clothes off," I command, even though I'm supposed to be an obedient boy and he's a strong man. Mr. Maximillian quickly takes off his clothes, revealing his amazing abs, legs, and arms. His broad shoulders and big, muscular chest make my cock tighten. I scan the man's entire body lustfully until my eyes finally land on his big cock and balls. Damn, he's hot, I tell myself. Suddenly, I forget all about my PTSD. Now all I want is this man's cock. Mr. Maximillian notices my lust and deliberately engages his muscles.
"Do you like what you see, boy?" 'boy'. The word sends pleasant shivers down my spine. I can only nod. The man steps closer to me. I sit on the edge of the bed. "I asked, do you like what you see?" he asks sternly.
"Yes, Mr. Maximillian," I answer obediently. As if I were a little puppy and he is my master.
"Amazing," he praises me. Suddenly, he grabs my hair. I gasp. "Can this cute boy open his mouth and suck a real man's dick?" he asks innocently. I open my mouth slowly and stick out my tongue.
"Good boy," he purrs. Then, grabbing my hair, he guides my head to take his cock in my mouth. I taste the sweet taste of his pre-cum in my mouth and swallow. Mr. Maximillian begins to move his hips, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I gag a few times, but quickly adjust to his girth and length. I feel his cock slide all the way into my mouth, then out. I completely immerse myself in this wonderful feeling. I hear Mr. Maximillian gasp, moan and mutter under his breath. After a few seconds he puts his whole cock in my mouth again and cums hardly. Only when I swallow it all does he let go of me, thus allowing me to catch my breath.
"That was wonderful," I tell him. The man nods.
"Indeed, yes," he agrees. "Well, I wanted to pay you another five hundred bucks, but I realized that you are not worth that much. You need to pay a thousand." Mr. Maximillian says and hands me a thousand right into my hands, and then, without saying anything else, disappears from the VIP room.
"So, how did it go?" Bethany asks me as I emerge from the VIP room. I show her the thousand bucks and her face turns pale. "You must be kidding?" she asks.
"No," I shake my head. "He liked the way I sucked his dick so much that he just decided I was worth more," I tell her proudly. My friend claps her hands.
"That's great!" Bethany cheers for me. "But how about you?" I frown.
"What do you mean?" I ask. She lowers her eyes a little, as if embarrassed by something she wants to ask.
"I mean, did your PTSD get in the way tonight?" my eyes soften a little. She's always been concerned about my health and needs, which is why we quickly became friends. She's the first to tell me that my PTSD isn't a problem. And for that, I will be indebted to her for the rest of my life.
"No, everything went smoothly," I said. "However... for some reason I have a feeling that tonight will be different," Bethany swears. She glances at me askance.
"How different?" she asks.
"Well, you know that feeling when you know something is going to happen, but you don't know what?" I ask her. My friend nods silently. "I feel exactly the same way now." I said.
"Well, but nothing bad has happened yet, and this evening is coming to an end. There are only a few hours left, right?" my friend says, looking at her watch. I wonder if I've really gone crazy.
"Of course you're right," I said a few seconds later. I just turn around to go change, but suddenly I bump into something. I can barely keep my feet. "Hey, watch where you're going." I tell the man.
"Maybe you should watch where you're going, huh?" a low male voice asks, making me freeze for a moment. I slowly look up at the man. I don't recognize him, but I assume he's important here because everyone's paying attention to us, especially him.
"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammer, only a few times. I realize that my PTSD around this man is about to come back. Or rather, I'm already starting to react, because my legs are starting to shake and my breathing is getting faster. The man doesn't have time to say anything to me, because I just quickly leave the bar's basement and go to change.
