Libidinous (h.s.)

01

Talia

Black has always been a typical color for me to wear to work. Under the dim LED lights, it seems to help all the areas where I choose to show skin truly stand out. Of course, there were always times where I chose against it, but black was frequently my go-to.

Tonight was a black kind of night, and I can't help but notice how tables tip me better whenever I wore that one little black skirt. It's very alluring; short and tight and leather, and the way the slit parts against my thighs when I walk has all eyes on me. But that's precisely what I wanted. Because the better I look, the more money I seem to make, and that's what keeps a roof over my head and black stilettos on my feet.

Working nights, graveyard shifts particularly, wasn't exactly what I thought it was going to be when I signed up for this job. It's not as bad as I had initially expected, but I say that now that I'm used to the late nights. If someone would have asked me two and a half years ago how I felt about it, I would've had a vastly different viewpoint.

The harsh scent of cigarettes and the feeling of the loud music rumbling the floorboards overwhelms me as I step through the back door, out of the break room. My eyes are blinded by the pinkish-red lighting as my hands fumble to tie the apron I was required to wear around my waist. I was hurrying to start my shift as I was already five minutes late, and Vince is so extremely particular about times.

"Hey T," the bartender greets me as I walk behind the bar, crouching down to grab a battery for my headset.

Because of the area my club is in, Vince thought it would be a good idea to get all the non-dancers headsets so we could talk to each other on the floor. When he distributed the devices, he told us the purpose of them was so we could let each other know if there's anything sketchy going on inside the club. But I know the main reason he bought them was so if any of us waitresses needed anything from security guards, or male workers, we could discretely ask. The only reason I think that is because that's the only thing we use those headsets for.

"Hey Aaron," I quickly greet him back, fumbling to get the battery into the base of the headset.

The headsets weren't the big, bulky ones like they use at fast-food restaurants. They're more like the small in-ears singers used on stage at concerts. Or the earbud-like ones security guards use. They're discrete and hardly noticeable at all, especially when your hair is down over your ears, so none of our guests get that uncomfy feeling that they're under extreme security. Even though they most definitely are.

"How've you been, babe?" Aaron continues our small talk. "I didn't see you leave last night. How late were you here?"

"Four," I tell him with a sigh, readjusting my skirt as I stand back up. I turn my head to finally look at him, seeing as his face was blanketed in a look of shock.

"Four?" He asks as if he didn't hear me before. I nod in response. "Why? I thought you were only supposed to be here 'til twelve?!"

"Vince asked me to close last minute," I tell him with a straight face. Though I never liked to make others feel bad for me, it was at least nice to know I wasn't crazy for thinking that shift was somewhat ridiculous. "And you know I could never say no to 'The Big Vince'."

"Okay, but that's just bullshit." He places one of his hands on the countertop to his left, and the other goes to rest on his hip. "He can't keep making you do that so unexpectedly, especially as often as he does. It's gonna kill you one day."

"It's fine." I shake my head dismissively. "He doesn't make me do anything, I could always say no. But I choose not to."

As we're talking, I try to be timely as I slip the headset wire up the back bottom hem of my tight, cropped tank.