Stripper {BoyxBoy}

2

I stand outside the boss's office, trying to find the courage to knock on the door. Eventually, I bring myself to knock. I soon hear footsteps and the door swings open.

My boss stares down at me and I gulp nervously. He's tall, at least a head taller than me, and his narrowed blue eyes feel like they're staring into my soul.

"Come in," He says coldly, ushering me inside.

I follow him into his office, glancing around. There's a black leather sofa pushed against one wall and a large desk at the other side of the room. He leads me over to the desk, pointing to a comfortable looking chair.

I sit down, and he takes the other chair. He rests his elbows on his desk and leans forward, staring at my face. I look down at my lap, feeling uncomfortable.

"Ky, is it?" He asks.

I nod, glancing back at him. Now he's searching through a stack of paperwork. He pulls out a file and slides it towards me. Looking at it, I can see my name written on the front.

He leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"So, Ky. How old are you?" He asks.

"Twenty, sir," I say nervously.

His eyes scan my face again, "You look young for twenty."

"Just...genetics, sir."

"I like you. You're smart," He chuckles, his blue eyes creasing at the corners, "But it would be smarter for you if you told me the truth. I know a fake ID when I see one. I'll ask you again, how old are you really?"

"I'm eighteen," I say, quietly.

"But it says here that you've been working here for two years," He says, pointing to the file, "So, did you start working here when you were sixteen?"

I nod slowly. What would I do if he fired me? Where would I go? I only had enough money saved up for another month's rent, and then what?

"Relax, I'm not firing you," He says, like he can read my thoughts.

"You're not?" I ask disbelievingly.

"No," He says, "I don't see any reason to now you're not underage."

"Thank you, sir," I smile at him gratefully.

He smiles back, "Go on, get out of here."

I stand up to leave but he stops me.

"Wait," He says, "One more thing. Meet me downstairs by the bar after closing time. There's something else I want to talk to you about."

I nod and he turns back to his paperwork. I take that as my cue to leave.

Once I'm outside, I stare at the door, wondering what he wants.

But I'll find out soon.