𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 |𝟏𝟖+ (#𝟏)

𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 |

05
AMBER JACKSON
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"Here you go." I said, handing Megan a whiskey sour she ordered while she sat on her submissive's lap. The irony of their relationship was that his wife had found herself a dominant at the same club, so they arrived at the same time and departed at the same time, despite the fact that they were both in a relationship together as submissives. They apparently loved each other enough to stay together without having sex and vetted each other's sexual partners.

From the outside, it may appear to be an odd relationship, but the exchanges between Megan and Jaime, as well as Hanna and Lex, were both amazing. They sat in the same booth most of the time and appeared to engage in foursomes on a regular basis. They've even invited me to come watch them perform a scene for the club's clients next month.

"Jackson, my office." a harsh voice sounds out behind me. Looking up, I saw Mr. Vitale ascending the steps to his office. I was serving in the booth closest to the stairs that lead to his office but far away from much of the commotion that would happen in the middle of the club. My shoulders stiffen, and ideas race through my mind about what I could have done wrong in my first few days on the job. "Oop. what did you do?" Megan asks with worried eyes. My eyes meet hers from the spot of taking up the empty glasses to follow him quickly. "Umm, nothing that I know of."

With the tray in hand, I proceed to the bar and then upstairs. My mind was replaying every conversation I'd had in this club thus far; and from my observations it appeared that the majority of the clients liked me. The only problem I've had was with Christian, and I haven't even told Nia about it yet. I meant to do so when I finished my shift. My feet were getting to the point in my shift where I could barely stand and walk about in these heels. Stopping at the stairwell, I glance up at them, knowing that getting up and down them will hurt like hell.

With a sigh, I take one step at a time, keeping my hands close to the railing that runs up the sides of the curving staircase. When I go to the top, the lone door on the floor is slightly ajar, as if it's waiting for me to come in. I count to ten in my head before knocking, waiting for a response, and then entering. In his office, Mr. Vitale is seated alongside the three bar stools at the minibar. Behind this small black marble island, there is a showcase of top shelf booze on stands. There was plenty of space to move when mixing drinks for himself and other guests hosted in this room.

Shifting my gaze away from the bar, I finally assess his office. It's dark. Everything is black, except for the glass wall overlooking the club below and the few gold accents scattered around the room. A small space was set up with two leather couches and a small glass table in the middle, both with leather bar coasters. A large black desk sat much farther back, free of clutter save for the computer that sat atop it. A large abstract picture in black, white, and gold fits almost like a halo behind the desk. A few books were stored on the shelves that ran along the right side of the paintings.

To be honest, the office looked incredible. It lacked personality, as if it had been professionally done and he had never bothered to put any personal touches to it - unless his personality was the embodiment of dark and haunted. It was barren and cold.

After a little moment of silence in which I took in his surroundings, my gaze returned to him. "Wow, this is a really nice office." I complimented as an ice breaker, mainly because I was afraid of what he wanted to talk about, but also because his stare made me feel uneasy. "You think so?" he asks, a mischievous expression on his face as he scrutinizes my every action.

"For the most part. It does lack a bit of character. But then again, I don't really know you. Do I?" I tell him the truth as I make my way behind the bar. My palms push against the dark marble surface, and I shudder from the cold. He amusingly asked, "Hmmm, suggestions?"