Shorts and Commissions - A Book of Random Writings

Jimin - Weak pt. 1

You'd seen him before, one week out of every month for the near-year you had been working at Andromeda. Sometimes in a black suit, mostly in a red suit, but always in one or the other of the two, and always fresh and clean even if he'd worn it the night before. He was enchanting, mesmerizing, nearly as popular  amongst the patrons as those hired who took to the stage, danced or played out scenes behind the glass windows, or were available for private entertainment in one of the rooms.

You yourself, were merely a waitress, though sometimes you worked the bar or danced on stage if staffing was short. Privately, you'd always wanted to experience one of he other jobs, to be chained and teased and tortured deliciously or to be taken to a room and enact the wild fantasy of a patron...but you had never had the courage to ask, and no one had ever requested you for that service in all the time you'd worked there.

Yet, for each of the seven days that a certain male attended the cub, his eyes rarely left you. Even when he was hanging out in his little VIP lounge, watching the crowd and soaking in the atmosphere of the stage or the dancefloor, he watched you. Even when he was handing money to the stage, or to one of the scenes that caught his interest, he watched you. Yes...even as he took a private room or left the club with a beautiful creature attached to his arm, his eyes were on you until he went through the door.

 Truth be told, and unbeknownst to you, you were the object of his obsession. You haunted his dreams, day and night, even during the weeks he stayed clear of Andromeda. You were unlike anything or anyone he'd ever seen, from the color of your hair to the shape of your body, but he was most enthralled with something you didn't even know could be so enchanting.

He loved your smile.

Not your smile when you handed a drink to a patron or received a shallow compliment about your body in the scant clothing your wore to match the mood of your job. He loved the smile that graced your face when your charming boss, Namjoon, made you laugh while you worked. Or your proud grin when your best friends, Levi and Kansas, killed their sets on stage or got an enthusiastic round of applause for a particular scene. He loved the smile and little giggles you gave to your phone when you were on break at the end of the bar, watching videos or scrolling through social media, and he absolutely adored the smile you gave him when you asked him if he wanted anything during your rounds through the tables. That one seemed special, reserved for him and him alone, a smile that held secrets and mischief in the curve of your lush lips.

Because it was.

It was a smile for the man who had caught your eye since your second week of work, the one with the perfect hair that changed color nearly every month you saw him, the one with the face and voice of an angel but a devil's glint in his eye. It was a smile of promise, if only he would make the move, deflate the aura of mystery that surrounded him, and say the word that he was willing to put your name his list of escapades...even just for one night.

"_____," Namjoon called you as you passed by the bar, "VIP 13 wants bottle service."

You smiled, sliding up to the rubber padding that indicated where the waitstaff picked up their drinks, "Yeah, I can drop it off," you took the opportunity to rest your feet for a minute, "What's he having?"

"You," Namjoon chuckled, clicking his tongue at your surprised face, "Don't be so shocked. He's been eyeballing you for months, and watching you like a hawk for a second night this time around." He leaned against the bar opposite you, "He said to bring whatever is your favorite, cost isn't an issue. So what'll it be, Babe?"

It took a few long seconds for you to recover from your confusion, Namjoon watching you with a knowing smile, "I guess make it the good shit, then," you shrugged, "Make it the sweet one."