Second Verse
Chapter 2 -- The Club
When Xander pushed the door open, he found himself speechless, which really amazed him given his propensity for Xander-babble. However, faced with the interior of the club, even in the harsh florescent lights the cleaning crew used before the club opened for the evening, he couldn’t form thoughts much less form words.
The owner had obviously taken the whole “safari” theme farther than Xander could have ever imagined. The walls features murals of nearly naked “savage” men hunting lions with spears and European explorers leading expeditions in g-strings and those funny hats white men always wore in the Tarzan movies. Half walls with planters apparently at random created little nooks of privacy, and Xander found his mind instantly obsessed with what might happen in the shadows behind one of those half-walls. Of course, anything that happened there would be visible to anyone walking close enough to peak through the foliage or anyone standing at either of the open ends, but that made it even more exciting. The best view, however, had to come from the walkway that ran the length of one wall. The walkway was raised about three feet off the ground, and metal bars separated it from the main club. Xander wondered if security used the protected space to monitor the crowd, but the bars seemed a little too far apart to protect those inside the walkway. The tables and bar and chairs were all made of bamboo and had a definite “safari” feel complete with a grass awning over the bar. Xander realized that the décor was nothing less than tacky, but still, it had its appeal. While he was still standing there, open mouthed and silent, a young red-head walked up to him while wiping his hands on his apron.
“You Xander?” he asked without much enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” Xander finally turned away from the décor to look at the men who were even now cleaning the club and chatting in small groups. If he had expected a gay bar to be filled with sexy, irresistible men (which he had), he was in for a disappointment. Not one of the men did anything for Xander—they ranged from downright ordinary to borderline nasty. The blue haired man with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth and various unidentified stains decorating his sweat-marked t-shirt made Xander itch for a shower. Just being in the same room make him feel dirty.
“T says you’ll work the food runs.” The redhead announced indifferently and then began walking away without checking to see if Xander followed. “Screw up and your ass will be out that door before the night’s over, sweet cheeks,” he finished as he continued to walk away. Xander felt the familiar sinking feeling that always preceded an ugly reintroduction to unemployment.
“John, you mind your manners or you’ll be the one whose ass meets that door,” a thin black man announced as he came out one of the doors marked “Employees Only.”
“T” the red-head named John tilted his head toward his employer before turning and joining a group of table cleaners on the far side of the room.
“Hey, Xander. I’m T.” The man held out his hand and smile warmly as Xander stepped forward to shake his hand.
“Thanks for the job; I really need it,” Xander admitted.
“No problem. I owe Gunn so much that I’ll never pay him back. It’s more than just saving my ass, he protects that whole neighborhood and my family lives there. Course, I hear you have something to do with protecting that neighborhood too, so I figure I owe you whether or not Gunn called in a favor.”
“Nah, not me,” Xander hurried to correct T. “I just clean up after the guys and help the wounded limp off the battlefield.” Xander liked the fact that this man looked at him with respect, but he didn’t want to mislead him either. Xander knew he couldn’t hold his own in any fight, and if T thought he was a vampire fighter, the man might expect Xander to handle gay-bashers or drunken fights when Xander couldn’t even handle two little old ladies fighting over the last box of Depends.
“Hey, you go up against vampires when most of the world stays inside and pretends they don’t exist. Hell, even the few people who have survived vampire attacks pass them off as cultists or gothic muggers. You got nerve hanging with Gunn and that crew, and I don’t think Gunn would let you if he didn’t trust you at his back,” T continued as he used a warm hand on Xander’s shoulder to guide the young man into the back kitchens. Xander wanted to argue.
He wanted to point out that Gunn put up with him because Xander had nagged him into it. He wanted to describe how, after Gunn had saved him from the attack, he had followed the upperclassman after school to see what the “crew” did in those late nights. He wanted to explain that Gunn had finally let him join the crew only because he got tired of finding Xander playing vampire bait half a block down from the crew as he tried to follow them. Looking back on his sophomore self of four years earlier, Xander realized he’d been pathetic. Of course, now he was nearly 19, lived at home, couldn’t keep a job more than a month, and had to rely on his friends to save his life on a fairly regular basis since he tended to attract any vampire within a five mile radius. Yeah, he could safely say he hadn’t grown out of that whole pathetic stage yet.
“So, you have a paycheck here whether or not you can make work that day—got it?” T demanded. Xander took a minute before he could process that.
“Whoa, that’s not the kind of job I’m looking for,” he quickly assured the man as they navigated well lit stainless steel prep areas that were currently abandoned. “I don’t do the whole vampire tax thing,” Xander finished.
“Tough,” T told him with a smile. “I want to help out the cause and most of Gunn’s men won’t even come here to claim free drinks—not even before we open to the public. You have some serious homophobic vibes in that group.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Xander muttered. When a confused expression crossed T’s face, Xander found himself blushing. He silently cursed himself for the slip. T and Gunn talked, and he didn’t need his own orientation becoming a topic of discussion for Gunn and the crew.
“Well just don’t let the guys give you shit,” T continued as if he hadn’t heard Xander—which he clearly had. “Doing the food runs is light work compared to the other jobs, so there’s a bit of jealousy going on.”
“Yeah, as evidenced by the whole indifference and dislike thing. What is the job? I mean, exactly,” Xander asked.
“You’ll notice out there several tall tables—we set up free food on those to encourage people to stay and buy more drinks. Doing the food runs means keeping those tables full of nice, salty food that makes people want lots and lots of drinks.”
“That’s all I do?” Xander had expected T to offer him either get some completely disgusting job, like cleaning grease traps, or some totally embarrassing job like stripping. Yeah, like anyone would want him to strip—at least not anyone who didn’t want all the customers running away screaming.
“Yeah, that’s it. But there are a couple of different ways to do the job,” T confided as he began to pull boxes out of a walk in freezer. “My cook called in sick, so I’m pulling snack duty today,” he explained as he tore open a bag of potatoes and dumped them into a sink full of water.
“Let me help,” Xander offered as he took the potato scrubber out of T’s hand and began grabbing potatoes. “What exactly do you mean ‘different ways to do the job’?” he asked as he efficiently scrubbed each potato and dropped it on the side prep area where T grabbed it and started filling baking sheets.
“Well, you do the job dressed like that and you’re going to have to rely on my paycheck to pay your bills,” T offered with a smile and a wink. Xander stopped scrubbing in order to look at his boss in confusion.
“And I shouldn’t rely on your paycheck?” he asked totally confused.
“You certainly can,” T quickly assured him. “That’s fine, and Gunn said you probably just wanted the paycheck. In fact, maybe I should move you back to cooking,” he commented as he watched as Xander finished the last of the potatoes and pulled out a baking sheet of his own to lay out the potatoes for baking, “but with a few wardrobe changes you could make a nice profit doing the food runs.”
“Did Gunn warn you that I was a little dense? Cause I can’t make any sense outta what you’re saying,” Xander gave one of his small patented ‘Don’t expect me to understand *that*’ looks that had once worked so well to keep teachers from asking him questions in class.
“The food runners often get tips,” T said as he grabbed both trays of potatoes and slipped them into the preheated oven. “But those baggy pants just sort of scream ‘don’t look at me’ and that shirt…” T sighed. “That shirt is an offense against Hawaiian people everywhere. Really, how can you wear that without getting mugged?” T waved in the general direction of Xander’s shirt, and Xander looked down. The orange and yellow flowers on the green background were a little bright, but Xander liked the bright, vivid colors. In a city neighborhood where dirt brown and smog gray were the two standard colors, he loved his bright and cheerful wardrobe. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Goodwill carried this type of clothing, and he definitely couldn’t afford to shop any place but a used clothing store.
So the shirt and the décor—not a match?” Xander guessed. He wasn’t sure what he should do since he only had a couple of solid colored shirts, but then maybe he should just stay in the kitchen. He opened his mouth to make that offer, but T cut him off.
“I don’t care what you wear—you can prance around in swim trunks or a Santa suit, makes no difference to me. However, you’ll get more in tips if you give the customers something to look at—not that you aren’t a looker in even those clothes,” T finished. Xander just silently stared at his tall, thin boss as his brain tried to process that last piece of information.
“You mean people would actually give me tips for bring out free food?” Xander finally formed the question just as T pulled down an entire stack of bowls and put them on the counter. He heard a snort behind him, and when he turned, he had to put a hand on the cold steel counter just to keep his balance. The man who was currently walking through the kitchens could easily qualify as a god. His long, thick, dark hair flowed in waves past his shoulders, and his dark eyes shone with intelligence and a teasing sparkle. His features showed either Hispanic or Native American influence, and he had an exotic face that was only emphasized by a spiral tattoo on his temple.
Of course Xander Jr. certainly couldn’t ignore the body if the tightening of the jeans was anything to go by. The man’s shirt hung open and Xander could see clearly defined abdominal muscles that twitched in unison. The arms below the sleeves flexed, but the man was not an overly muscled monster—no his muscles suggested those of a runner or soccer player, not the heavy, slow muscles of a body builder. By the time Xander pulled his eyes back up to the exotically beautiful face, he could see amusement written all over the slightly upturned lips and single raised eyebrow.
“New guy?” the god asked T.
“Xander,” T nodded his head toward Xander as he separated the bowls and pulled out a giant bag of peanuts which he began to ration using a large ice scoop.
“Xander,” the god offered his hand. “I’m Charlie, and you can get a lot in tips if you’re willing to give up that awful shirt,” Charlie confirmed as he closed his hand around Xander’s outstretched digits. Without thinking, Xander had come out from behind the prep table to shake Charlie’s hand, but now he realized how exposed he truly was with Xander Jr.’s unmistakable interest and Charlie no more that a few inches away. For one second, Charlie’s eyes flashed downward toward the unmistakable interest straining the seams of Xander’s jeans, and then he looked right into Xander’s eyes and gave a slow wink. “T, can you spare Xander long enough for me to get him a decent shirt, at least?” Charlie asked without taking his eyes off Xander.
“Figured you’d take an interest. Just keep your hands to yourself…unless you have an invite,” T added that last part after just the briefest hesitation. Xander realized that his carefully constructed heterosexual facade, complete with hateful ex-girlfriends who wanted him dead, was truly crumbling.
“Come on, I have something you can borrow,” Charlie offered as his hand closed in on Xander’s upper arm in a tight grip. Xander felt his cock jerk in his jeans, and he shifted his hips as he walked and tried to give the uncooperative organ more room. He just thanked god that he was wearing fairly loose jeans because otherwise he might have damaged himself.
“Um, do you have an employee bathroom around here?” Xander asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, but he doubted that he did because Charlie’s expression turned even more amused. Charlie nodded toward a hallway where, Xander assumed, he would find a bathroom, but for one moment Xander didn’t think Charlie was going to let him go. The large hand remained solidly attached to his arm, and Xander wasn’t sure exactly how to handle the situation. Xander Jr. had a suggestion or two, but before Xander could come to any conclusions, Charlie released his arm, and he darted toward the bathroom with as much speed as possible without looking like an utter fool. The gentle chuckle behind him made Xander wonder whether he had succeeded, but when the bathroom door came into sight, he could no longer find the energy to care.
Xander pushed the door open and found himself in a completely unremarkable bathroom that could have been the employee bathroom in any number of fast-food places where he had worked. Piles of toilet paper and boxes of cleaners sat stacked against one wall and the room had the strange stale smell that came from a lack of air circulation, but the only thing Xander cared about was the fact that it had only one toilet, so he could lock the door and have the entire closet-sized room to himself. He did so quickly and unfastened his jeans, allowing his erection to emerge with a happy sigh.
The organ was already turning red, tiny drops of white liquid gathering at the tip before slowly rolling down his cock. Xander reached a hand down and gently stroked the vein on the underside, enjoying the sensation for a brief moment, but he realized that he didn’t have much time before providing Charlie with entirely too much entertainment, so he closed his hand around the shaft and began a more aggressive stroking, thrusting his hips up on each stroke and struggling to remain silent since Charlie was probably leaning right outside the door. Xander closed his eyes and rested on shoulder against the cool white tile and he stroked faster, his fist closing slightly to give him more friction, more stimulation even as the precum dripped down between his hand and his cock providing lubrication for his ever-more desperate thrusts.
With his eyes closed, Xander first imagined Gunn’s large hand closing around his cock, Gunn’s other hand going to Xander’s chest where his fingers splayed out and pressed Xander back against the wall of the basement room even while the other crew members watched and realized that Gunn chose *him*. He imagined coming all over Gunn’s hand as Luther watched with undisguised jealousy. That fantasy quickly dissolved into one starring Charlie: a fantasy where Charlie used some unknown key and walked into the bathroom finding Xander jerking off. Charlie would slip in behind Xander and encircle his waist with one arm while his other reached around to grab hold of Xander’s cock and pump it in time with Xander’s thrusts, Xander’s back pressed up against Charlie’s front, feeling Charlie’s own erection as proof of his interest.
However, when Xander felt his balls tighten and his leg muscles stiffen, his mind was strangely blank. No fantasy filled the last few seconds before his body reached climax and poured itself out into the toilet with an erratic splashing sound. Xander braced himself with one arm against the sink as he allowed his cock to slowly return to normal size before trying to pee. Xander closed his eyes and wondered how he was supposed to open the door and face Charlie after that. He had no illusions about fooling Charlie; Charlie knew exactly why he needed the bathroom, and he had probably gone to tell all the other employees just how pathetic the new guy truly was. But Xander knew that he needed the money and the job, no matter how much grief the other guys gave him. He had survived humiliation before, and he would again. Hell, humiliation was his normal state of existence. With a sigh, Xander tucked himself in, zipped up his pants, and turned to face his imminent disgrace.
Xander opened the door to find the hallway empty. Okay, this was a new torture technique, but Xander had to appreciate its effectiveness. If Charlie had been waiting with a few evil comments or if half the staff had been waiting with smug expressions, he would have at least known what to expect. The whole not knowing what to expect actually sent his stomach into loops faster than anything Charlie and his buddies could have done. Xander wandered back toward where he left Charlie in the connecting hall. Several other men zipped down the hall, and given their general cuteness—at least in Xander’s opinion—Xander assumed that these men, like Charlie, worked up front.
“Move it or lose it, cutie,” one brunette kindly ordered with a gentle shove to one side as Xander paused in the maze of corridors, unsure where to find Charlie.
“Where’s Charlie?” Xander blurted before the brunette could leave.
“Charlie? The headliners use the last room,” the man waved toward the end of the hall before he opened a door where three or four men were changing. Xander turned his face before he could get a look at something that he shouldn’t, even if he desperately wanted to look.
Following the hall to the end, he knocked on the last door even as he wondered what a headliner was. Almost immediately, Xander heard Charlie’s voice sing out, “For god’s sake just come in…it’s not like half the city hasn’t seen it.” Xander pushed the door open and thanked god he had stopped and taken care of his problem. If he hadn’t, the sight in front of him would have left him coming in his jeans, something he hadn’t done since he was fourteen and his two best friends talked him into playing doctor.
Charlie dressed, or rather didn’t dress, to fit with the safari theme in the main room. He had a leather loin cloth strapped across his hips, and as he adjusted the front flap so that it covered most of his private parts, Xander could see that he sported a healthy erection currently trapped within the confines of leather straps that looped around his balls and the base of his cock, forcing them away from his body. Xander’s own cock twitched in sympathy—that looked decidedly uncomfortable. Charlie just continued to adjust his small cloth so that when he dropped it, his genitals were visible only in small glances as he walked.
Xander wasn’t even sure how the man could walk with his balls forced so far from his body, but Charlie still moved with quiet grace that just screamed sexy. Around Charlie’s upper body, looped so that it went from his left shoulder to his right waistline, a long bull whip drew attention to his beautifully cut stomach, chest, and back muscles, and the finishing touch was a pair of sandals that were nothing more than leather straps wound around first his feet and then up his legs in a crisscross pattern. Xander had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life. What’s more, he never expected to ever be so turned on ever again. He was realizing that despite his earlier side trip, Xander Jr. was quickly becoming a problem again. In fact, Xander didn’t even hear Charlie until the man had raised his voice with an amused snort.
“Earth to Xander, care to join us?” Charlie asked.
“Huh?” Xander really couldn’t find enough higher brain activity to manage more than the one syllable.
“Red or purple?” Charlie said in a tone that made it clear he had asked the question before.
“Huh?” Xander repeated stupidly despite the two shirts that Charlie held up on their hangers. This time Charlie didn’t just snort, he laughed outright—a large deep laugh that made Xander blush all the way down to his toes.
“Red, I think,” Charlie said as he pulled a red silk shirt off a hanger. "It'll look nice with those deep brown eyes of yours. You do have the look, don't you,” Charlie continued as he tossed the shirt at Xander.
“I don’t think I can wear this,” Xander objected as he held the shirt, which probably cost more than he typically made in a week.
“Sure you can—it’s left over from when I did food runs. It has a couple of stains, but in the dark no one will notice.”
“It’s yours?” Xander asked, imagining Charlie wearing the beautiful red silk. “I mean, I doubt it’ll fit me,” he quickly added.
“Xander, we're built pretty similar. You have some nice upper body development, and the silk will really show it nicely. And if you want tips, you need to show off a little,” Charlie confided as he pulled his hair back into a leather thong at the nape of his neck. “Course we need to find you some other pants. Mine might be a little big, so I’m going to pop down and ask Mike if he has a pair you can borrow.”
“What’s wrong with my pants?” Xander shouted through the open door as Charlie disappeared down the hall. Xander didn’t have long to wait before Charlie reappeared with a pair of black jeans that seemed far too small for Xander to fit into.
“What’s wrong is that you’re going to lose most of your tips in pants that loose,” Charlie commented as he tossed the jeans to Xander. “Now hurry up and change. The club opens soon.” Without another word, Charlie left, pulling the door closed behind him. Xander stared at the closed door and then at the unfamiliar clothing still held in his hands. The shirt he could handle, and he quickly shed his bright Hawaiian print, dropping it on a plastic chair sitting in the corner of the small dressing room. As the red silk slipped over his skin, he understood women’s obsession with silk underwear. The smooth fabric slid over his skin making every nerve feel alive. The pants, which had landed on the seat of the same plastic chair with his discard shirt, required more thought. Xander didn’t know whether he was ready to parade around in pants that left nothing to the imagination, especially when Xander Jr. was acting up, but he felt strangely reluctant to disappoint Charlie. Oh well, he could always change back later if he looked too stupid. Xander quickly slipped off his jeans before he could change his mind and slipped the black jeans on.
"Oh, and lose the underwear—the lines of it will show through the jeans," Charlie's voice floated through the door. From the tone, Charlie must have shouted the words, but Xander could barely hear them, meaning—and at this Xander really blushed—Charlie had just told him to go commando loud enough for the entire staff to hear him. Xander slipped the black jeans back down and shucked off his underwear.
With a small curse, he pulled up the stiff fabric and tucked himself in before buttoning up the button-fly, an act which caused no small amount of discomfort as Xander Jr. struggled to reach full size. Shit, he hadn't ever been able to recover this fast. Looking in the slightly warped mirror hanging on the back of the door, Xander faced a person he didn’t know. The red silk made his normally unremarkable upper body look moderately developed, and the black jeans followed every curve. He pushed his fingers through his thick, wavy brown hair wishing it were either long enough to tie back or short enough to not curl up and get in his eyes.
“You ready?” Xander heard Charlie call as he reappeared in the room without even knocking—of course, it was actually his dressing room, but still.
“If you explain the tips comment,” Xander retorted sharply feeling slightly foolish and embarrassed.
“Whoa—you clean up nice,” Charlie commented with appreciation as he took in the new and improved Xander. Charlie took a step back and looked Xander up and down. “Very nice.”
“Um, yeah,” Xander just mumbled. “So, are you going to explain the comment?”
“How do you think the customers give you tips?” Charlie asked with a small tilt of his head.
“Don’t they usually put the money in a glass or jar?” Xander asked as he tried to pull at his jeans enough to give his cock room. As Charlie had reentered the room, Xander Jr. had reasserted himself in the now much tighter confines of the black jeans.
“Give it up, Xander,” Charlie laughed as he saw what Xander was attempting to do. “You’ll get more tips that way. But to answer your question, no, there are no jars. Your tips will end up down your pants, which is why you don’t want to wear loose pants.”
“Shit,” Xander swore, partly from the idea of getting that kind of attention and partly because the thought had sent enough blood straight to his cock to make the jeans a torture device.
“Oh yeah, that’s how to get the tips,” Charlie laughed as he slipped his hand down to cup Xander’s crotch. “Keep that up and you’ll take over my hours on the walkway.” Without another word, Charlie turned and left the room, leaving Xander to try and figure out how to walk. “Better hurry up and get T to show you the ropes before the club opens,” Xander heard Charlie shout from half way down the hall. For a moment, Xander stood in the small private dressing room staring at his old jeans. If he walked out of the room dressed like this, he might as well admit to everyone in the club that he was gay. A straight man might work at a gay club, but he certainly wouldn’t go out on the floor dressed like a rent boy—a rent boy with an erection making walking impossible and straining the seams of his jeans. It would be like telling the whole world he was gay.
He had heart palpitations at the thought of telling Gunn or his parents, but telling stranger—he could live with that. Maybe he could even use it as a trial run—a practice coming out party. With more confidence in his walk than in his heart, Xander walked out of the small dressing room, closing the door behind him. The kitchen where he left T preparing snacks lay at the end of the hall, so he walked down the length of the hall where a few open doors revealed small groups of men preparing for work—most of them changing into the zebra print pants and white, open vests that functioned as a uniform. When no one made any disparaging remarks by the end of the hall, Xander began to believe that he didn’t look completely stupid. However, T’s comment nearly sent him running back for his own baggy and nondescript clothing.
“Holy shit, what the hell did he do to you?” T asked as he froze, his hand still full of shredded cheddar cheese suspended above the waiting potato skins.
“I can change back,” Xander quickly offered as he began backing toward the waiting hallway.
“The hell you can. That thick curly hair and big puppy eyes paired with that red silk—shit, I’m going to have more people looking at you than the dancers.” Xander stood with his mouth open, trying to figure out what he missed because at first glance the comment seemed complimentary, overly complimentary. In Xander’s experience, any compliments based on appearance simply provided the warm-up act for later humiliation. A small but emotionally scarring incident in 11th grade had tattooed that fact into his brain. However, T continued without commenting on Xander’s silence or his suspicious expression.
“Damn I had no idea you were such a cutie under those atrocious clothes. You must have been a swimmer,” T talked on as his hand resumed the job of preparing snacks. “As soon as I can get you to give up the slouch and put a little swing into those hips, I’m going to get you on that walkway—maybe dress you up like a lion with that think hair of yours, any chance you could let it grow out some?” Xander opened his mouth to comment on the question and the unlikeliness of anyone paying to see him as nearly naked as Charlie had been, but T continued his train of thought without giving Xander even a chance to jump in. Xander realized that even his Xander-babble was helpless in the face of T who continued his monologue even as he slipped one tray of potatoes out of the oven and another into.
“Your biggest problem tonight is going to be getting the food to the stations. Each of the food stations has a soft yellow light above it, and it’s easy to see with the dance lights on, but the customers are going to descend on you like a flock of vultures. And here I thought you were going to have a chance to work your way into the job slowly.” Here T inserted a snort that sounded suspiciously like Charlie’s. “Don’t let customers push you too far. If they get too grabby-feely, look for one of the black vested bouncers. Give them a nod and they’ll pull you out.
"Don’t let customers pull you into a private corner or pull you to these rooms back here,” at this point T nodded to the rooms off the hallway Xander had just walked. “Lots of the regulars come back here, but you are so not ready for that, boy.” T winked at Xander, and Xander didn’t have to ask him what went on in those rooms. Xander felt his heart jump, and not in the way the sent Xander, Jr. to happy land. The thought of illegal prostitution or of having to fight off overly amorous men frightened Xander, and T must have recognized the expression.
“Don’t worry, I run a clean club and the only thing that goes on around here is love between consenting adults. I just don’t want you doing something you aren’t ready for because you didn’t stop and think. Besides, Gunn will tear this place apart if something happens to you, so you keep those bouncers in sight. I’ll tell them to keep an eye on you for the next week or so until you get your feet under you.”
“Grab a tray,” T ordered as he picked up a tray stacked high with peanut bowls and gestured towards the others that waited on the table. Xander picked up the one with some sort of fried bread and hurried to follow the thin man out into the main club. Xander wondered just how much caffeine T consumed in a day because he had never met anyone who so clearly needed to cut back.
“Uh, T?” he asked as they approached a narrow pillar that had a chest high counter running around it. “How are they going to know I work here?” Xander asked as he realized that nearly all of the other employees wore uniforms. Everyone had the zebra pants but while most of the men wore white vests that exposed their chests, a fair number of the larger men wore the closed black vests.
“Simple, you’re going to have the tray in your hands. Not all the employees wear uniforms, the walkway dancers change into street clothes after they dance and mingle with the customers. It’s a chance for them to pick up a few extra tips,” T explained as he gestured toward the walkway Xander had earlier assumed would protect security. The thought of Charlie dancing behind the bars send Xander’s cock through another round of torture in the tight jeans.
“And this is legal?” Xander asked dubiously.
“If the guys had sex for money or had sex on the dance floor, no. But they’re just talking to customers, and if a few want to slip a hand with a few dollars down their pants, that legal as long as the guys aren’t dancing at the time the customers are touching. Usually the dancers help with the food running because it really will be difficult keeping up with all the food stations, but just remember, you put the food out too fast and I just have to give more away, so don’t break your neck keeping the moochers in free peanuts and pizza bread,” T explained with a nod toward Xander’s breadsticks as both men dropped off a bowl of food at the pillar and walked on to the next one.
“T, I just don’t…” Xander stopped, unsure how he could finish the sentence. He didn’t want to work there—no, actually he wanted to very much. He didn’t think he belonged there—definitely, but he had pushed his way in where he lacked qualifications before. He didn’t know how to do this—definitely again. He couldn’t even say the word “gay” out loud, and he was about to let gay men touch him for money. Xander couldn’t process any of the possible options before T cut him off by answer without waiting for the rest.
“I know. Do what you can, what you want. When you need to leave, give me a head’s up in the kitchen and I’ll have one of the bartenders fill in or just have the dancers take the food. It’s fine darlin’, you’ll be fine.” With this final comment, T gave Xander’s arm a pat and took the tray since they had laid out the food on the last pillar-counter. “Carlos, meet Xander,” he called to a black-vest, and with that T disappeared before Xander could say another word.
“Hey Xander, you need anything, you give me a stare, and I’ll get right to you, okay?” Carlos commented as he gave Xander a smile that made Xander relax. Carlos was old enough to be Xander’s father if Xander was any judge of age, but his body looked fit enough to break Xander’s real father in two. Comforting combination. “You get the rest of the food out ‘cause the fun is about to start,” Carlos added as he jerked a thumb toward the entrance. The club had obviously opened because the first few customers had started wandering in through the doors in pairs and small groups. The light instantly dimmed, and Xander made an ungraceful dash for the kitchen.