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I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Serving The Billionaire.
MERCEDES
The next day, I slept as late as I could, because I knew I would have a long night at the club.
Finally, around ten, I couldn't sleep any longer, so I got up to make myself a pot of coffee.
The morning dragged by slowly... I was nervous and eager to get started, but at the same time I was dreading it.
I was convinced that Brittany was wrong about me, because I didn't know anything about rich men or how to keep them happy.
I would probably trip on the carpet my very first night and spill a tray of drinks all over the richest man in the room.
Just my luck.
I texted Jocelyn...
ME: First-day jitters...
My phone buzzed ten minutes later...
JOCELYN: You are going to be great! So exciting!
For whatever reason, her exclamation points actually made me feel a little better. I wished that she could be there with me. She would be so much better at it than I would...
She's charming and charismatic...the perfect cocktail waitress.
I was good at office jobs, where I could sit at a desk and ignore everyone.
I'd waitressed briefly in high school but it had been a disaster... I forgot orders, dropped things and invariably delivered the wrong food to the wrong table.
Maybe it would go better this time...
At one, I left home and took the subway into Manhattan... My heels clicked on the sidewalk as I headed to the club.
They made an authoritative sound against the pavement, so I threw my shoulders back and strutted, pretending I was someone confident and collected...someone who knew where her life was going.
That was too vague though, I needed to pretend to be someone specific. So I decided that I would pretend to be Joss.
I would spend the entire first day doing what she would do. I would play the role perfectly and nobody would be able to tell how scared I was.
The same man was waiting inside the lobby of the club... He smiled at me and said,
"Brittany is waiting for you in her office."
"Thank you," I told him, and lifted my chin as I returned his smile...the way Joss always did.
The club was empty except for a woman running a vacuum cleaner. I made my way to Brittany's office and knocked.
"Come in!" she called.
I opened the door and went inside. She stood to greet me.
"Mercedes, right on time. Welcome." She motioned for me to sit. "We have the usual paperwork to fill out... Tax forms, direct deposit, et cetera. And the non-disclosure agreement, of course."
"Of course," I said.
That was the only part I was worried about. What if I slipped up and said something about my job after a few too many drinks?
I wanted to get a look at the actual clauses in the agreement. I'd worked at a law office for a while, and although I was hardly an expert, I would be able to tell if the club wanted me to agree to anything truly out of the ordinary.
After I'd filled out all of the other paperwork, Brittany slid the agreement across the desk...
"Please read it carefully. We don't want there to be any surprises. In essence, you're allowed to tell people that you work here as a cocktail waitress, but nothing more. And especially nothing about the clientele or the specifics of the operation."
It sounded reasonable.
I read over the contract, taking my time to make sure I understood everything. It all seemed fairly standard, so I signed at the bottom in big, curling letters...
A Jocelyn signature.
Brittany filed away the paperwork and turned back to face me...
"Now that that's over with," she said. "I'll take you to meet Natalie. She's going to be training you. I should warn you though, she isn't particularly friendly; it takes her a while to warm up to new people. But she's an excellent teacher, and you'll be in good hands."
That didn't sound too promising. I just hoped she wouldn't sabotage me, or prevent me from learning what I needed to.
Brittany didn't sound worried, though, so I decided not to borrow trouble. I'd just wait and see what happened.
Brittany led me back out into the main room of the club, and introduced me to a small, dark-skinned woman standing beside the bar.
The woman shook my hand with a firm grip.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mercedes," she said. "I'm Natalie. Britt, I'll be happy to take it from here."
With that, Brittany returned to her office, leaving me alone with Natalie.
Natalie put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down...
"You'll do," she said. "Brittany told you I'm not friendly, I'm guessing. Don't take it personally. I'm just a little shy."
"I'm a little shy myself," I admitted. So much for Jocelyn... But Natalie's smile made me glad I'd blown my cover.
"I think we'll get along nicely," she said. "Britt said you haven't waitressed before, so let's start with the basics of the bar layout. You won't typically need to make any drinks yourself, but it's good to know where things are."
She showed me where the garnishes were stored and where to find the jiggers and different types of glasses.
And then she showed me a laminated card listing the most common drink recipes, and set me at the bar to study that.
I had just memorized the difference between a cosmopolitan and a Manhattan, when she came back to where I was sitting and said,
"We're about to open."
"I have to serve people tonight?" I asked.
She had told me I wasn't supposed to write down orders, and I knew I was going to get confused and serve someone the wrong drink...
"No, not tonight," she said. "Wednesdays are usually quiet. Just follow me around and watch what I do. And...this is important...if any of the customers touch you, or try to touch you, tell me immediately. We'll have them blacklisted."
"Wow!" I said. "So you're really..."
"Brittany doesn't play," she said. "If they want to grope somebody, that's what the dancers are for. Waitresses are off limits and everyone knows it. If the clients try anything funny, they get the boot. You're not getting paid enough for sex work, so leave it to the professionals."
"Okay," I said, relieved. Brittany had said the customers wouldn't touch me, but I hadn't thought she was serious about it. But I liked Natalie's brisk, forthright manner, and I decided to trust her.
A few other cocktail waitresses had arrived and Natalie introduced me to them as we waited for the first customers.
We lingered by the bar and I listened as they talked about something that had happened to Michelle, who I didn't know.
The central stage suddenly flooded with light, revealing a gleaming metal pole and a chair...
"Show's on," one of the waitresses said, and as I watched, a young woman emerged from a door at the rear of the club.
She was wearing high heels, a black thong...and nothing else.
I watched, shocked despite myself, as she strolled across the floor and mounted the few steps onto the stage.
Her breasts shook as she walked and her nipples were hard.
I had known intellectually, that this was a strip club, but seeing a half-naked...well, three-quarters-naked...girl wandering around, really drove it home.
"Shocked and appalled?" Natalie asked from beside me.
I looked at her, feeling my face heat up.
"I'll get used to it," I said quickly, not wanting her to think I disapproved.
"I remember my first day," she said. "I couldn't get over all the naked girls walking around. Wait until you see what the clients do to them! I just couldn't believe it. One of the dancers tried to talk to me about something or other and I spent the whole time staring at her boobs. You'll get used to it, though."
"Thanks," I said, and meant it.
Everything seemed pretty strange to me at the moment, but Natalie was so unruffled that it was hard for met to get too worked up about it.
One of the dancers came over and leaned on the bar. This one, thankfully, was wearing a silky black robe.
"Fresh meat?" she asked Natalie.
"Mercedes," Natalie said, tilting her head in my direction. "She's training with me."
The dancer held out her hand.
"I'm Avery," she said. "Well, Vixen Deluxe, here."
I shook her hand.
"Vixen, uh, Deluxe?"
She grinned...
"The clients like us to have real old-school stripper names," she said. "I guess it makes them feel like they're having an authentic experience. Although, if they want it really authentic, they should go up to Times Square."
With that, she ambled away.
A bell chimed, like a doorbell, but louder.
"First customers," Natalie said. And as I watched, all of the waitresses lined up against the wall behind the bar and clasped their hands behind their backs, their faces perfect expressionless masks.
I hurriedly imitated them...
The main door opened and three men came inside, guided by the man from the lobby. All three were wearing suits and carrying briefcases.
"Typical after-work crowd," Natalie whispered to me. "They'll have a couple of drinks and then leave."
One of the other waitresses went to serve that table. And I watched as the dancer on stage spun in slow circles, one leg hooked around the pole...
Music started, not the loud, thumping club music I expected, but soft background music.
The men sipped at their drinks and talked to each other, laughing loudly. And barely looked at the stage.
I wondered why they didn't just go to a regular bar, if they were going to ignore the dancers all night.
More men arrived and were seated in quick succession.
"That's us," Natalie said, as a table of four took their seats. I followed her out onto the floor, trying not to let my heels get caught in the thick carpeting.
I stayed a step behind her as she stopped beside the table and bent down towards one of the men, who had turned his head towards us as we approached.
"Two martinis, a Jack and Coke, and a gin and tonic," he said.
And I did what Natalie had told me and silently repeated the drink order to myself, trying to burn it into my brain...
Natalie said nothing in response, just straightened up, turned and headed back towards the bar.
I followed her, a little confused.
She gave the order to the bartender and as he started mixing the drinks, I said,
"Don't the customers want you to talk to them at all?"
"It depends," she said. "You'll see. I know that guy, that's all. He just wants his drinks. He doesn't want any chit-chat. That's fine with me. He tips well. Some big-deal investment banker. He brings his clients here a lot. After a while, you'll get to know the regulars and get a feeling for what they expect."
It seemed impossible. However, I followed Natalie as she worked her tables, and carefully watched the way she interacted with each customer.
Most of the men gave all of their drink orders individually and sometimes she would speak to one for a few moments, obviously familiar with him.
Sometimes she would say nothing. And sometimes she would address him with the sort of false, over-the-top cheer you generally saw at a chain restaurant in the suburbs.
I tried to match faces with behaviors, but all of the customers looked more or less the same to me...rich white guys in suits.
After a while, I quit looking at their faces and focused on their body language instead.
It spoke volumes...
If they wanted to be friendly with Natalie, they would turn their torsos towards her, and maybe smile at her as she approached.
If they just wanted to place their drink orders, they would wait to turn their heads and acknowledge her until she was standing right beside them.
Once I noticed that, I asked Natalie about it the next time we were back at the bar.
"Do you really know all of these guys, or are you just watching their body language?"
She raised her eyebrows at me.
"Very good," she said. "I know some of them. Some of them I haven't seen before. If you can keep an eye on what they're doing with their shoulders, you're golden."
I was pleased that I'd done something well and worried it was the last good thing I'd be able to pull off.
My feet were starting to hurt... I didn't know what time it was...there were no clocks in the main room of the club...but it couldn't have been more than an hour.
It was going to be a long night.
If I stayed there until closing, I would be at the club and on my feet for twelve hours.
One thing I noticed, as I followed Natalie around, was that she wasn't in a hurry. I was used to seeing servers in restaurants rush around like their pants were on fire, but she strolled around calmly and seemed totally unruffled.
As the first round of arrivals settled in, I realized that she only had a handful of tables to serve, which gave her plenty of time to stand at the bar and watch for any signs that the customers needed something.
Like another napkin, a drink or a glass of water...
The Golden Cross really was determined that the clients would have the best experience possible, even going as far as to over-staff to make sure that nobody went unattended to.
I also watched the clients...or, more precisely, I watched what they watched. Some of them stared fixedly at the dancers gyrating on stage; others basically ignored the stage altogether and had intense conversations with their companions, sometimes huddled over reams of paper.
I asked Natalie about it...
"Some of them do business deals here," she said. "I have no idea why. It's private, or they like showing off, or maybe they just like looking up from their paperwork and seeing a nice pair of tits."
So rich people were mysterious... Nothing new there. Joss told me once, that rich people liked to eat steak from Japanese cows that were massaged by hand every morning, to keep the meat tender.
If they wanted to perform billion-dollar mergers at a strip club, who was I to judge?
Time went by in a blur as I staggered after Natalie and tried not to let on how much my feet hurt.
Whenever we had a few minutes at the bar, I surreptitiously slid out of my heels and stood on the carpeting in my stocking feet.
The bartender caught me at it once and smirked knowingly. When I looked up, Natalie was watching me.
"It gets easier," she said. "But you need different shoes. I'll show you what to buy. And you should get some of those gel insoles."
"I don't mean to cause so much trouble," I said, embarrassed, and worried that I was being a burden.
She waved one hand dismissively.
"Everyone's new at some point. You're doing better than I did, my first night."
With those words of encouragement, she went out onto the floor again, and I followed after like an obedient duckling.
Only not yellow like a duckling, but the same basic idea.
A few hours in, Natalie told me,
"It's time for you to take your first order."
"Really?" I asked, panic gripping me.
I was definitely going to screw up, I knew it. I'd been trying to keep track of orders as she took them, and half of the time I'd forgotten at least one thing by the time we made it back to the bar.
I was starting to get the distinct impression that I wasn't cut out for waitressing...
"Sure," she said. "There's just two of them, and I know the one on the left. Mr. Mach. He's nice. Just smile at him and ask him what he'd like. He always gets the same thing though, so just worry about the other guy's order."
I walked over to the table, far more nervous than I probably should've been. I was just taking a couple of drink orders, after all, not competing in the Olympics.
Even so, my heart raced and my palms felt sweaty. I just hoped I didn't do anything embarrassing, like trip or stammer.
As I approached the table, Mr. Mach turned to me and smiled... That was a clear signal; Natalie had been right about him.
I bent down slightly so that I wouldn't have to shout.
"Good evening, Mr. Mach. What can I get for you?"
"You must be new," he said, smiling at me. "I don't know your face. A glass of Sassicaia for me, please. And for my friend, a martini."
"Stirred, not shaken," said the other man at the table.
I glanced at him involuntarily when he spoke. And our eyes met...
His were intensely green, like fire so hot it had forgotten how to burn orange. And they captured mine so that I couldn't look away.
Mr. Mach was older, probably in his fifties, but this other man was young and gorgeous.
His thick blonde hair was expertly styled, and he wore a charcoal suit that looked expensive and soft to the touch.
The breadth of his shoulders made me want to unbutton his jacket and see the shape of his body... Or, better yet, run my hands all over it.
I tore my gaze away, flushing. I had never felt so immediately attracted to someone. And I didn't understand the gathering heat between my legs, or what to do about it.
I hoped the man couldn't tell how flustered I was.
"I'll be right back with your drinks," I said, forcing a smile, and fled.
At the bar, Natalie said,
"Sassicaia, right?"
"And a martini. Stirred," I said.
I was stunned that I had remembered, when I wasn't even sure I could remember my own name.
Natalie looked at me intently.
"Are you okay?"
"Just nervous," I said. "You know. First time."
"Right," she said, and turned away to give the bartender the order.
Having momentarily escaped from Natalie's scrutiny, I closed my eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths.
Nothing had happened.
I saw a man... And he ordered a drink from me.
I worked as a cocktail waitress, now. I would see lots of men. And many of them would order drinks from me. It wasn't a big deal.
None of my rationalizations however, explained the way my vagina had started throbbing as soon as the guy looked at me.
"Here's the order," Natalie said, turning to me with a tray in her hands. "Go take it out to them. Don't be nervous, sugar. You'll do great."
Nobody had ever called me sugar before, and it buoyed me halfway across the floor. Then, midway through the sea of carpet and tables, I realized the same guy was looking at me.
The man in the charcoal suit... Staring at me as I walked, his green eyes raking up and down my body.
I stumbled slightly, one heel catching in the carpet, but managed to recover without spilling anything.
I had the impression, walking towards him, that he was reeling me in like a fish on a line... Drawing me towards him with the force of his green gaze.
It sounded crazy even to me, but I couldn't deny the hard truth of it...
Because I knew in that moment, even though I didn't understand how or why, that my life had changed irrevocably and forever.
I approached the table and set down Mr. Mach's glass, careful not to spill.
"Here you are, sir," I said, smiling.
"Thank you, my dear," he said, and handed me...
Holy shit! Was that a fifty dollar bill?
Fixing my smile in place, I slipped it into my bra.
With the tray balanced on my left hand, I circled the table and placed the martini in front of the man with the green eyes.
I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to exhale...
"Stirred, as you requested," I said, smile still plastered on my face.
"Oliver told me the service here was unparalleled, and I see he wasn't exaggerating," the man said.
He handed me a folded bill. I clasped it in my sweaty palm, unable to think...
As my fingers closed around the crumpled paper, I felt his hand, big and warm, concealed beneath the edge of the table, curl around the back of my thigh.
'Oh God...'
My feet felt as if they would buckle.
I made some garbled noise about how I hoped they enjoyed their drinks and went back to the bar in a daze.
At the bar, I unfolded the bill and Benjamin Franklin's face stared back at me...
I couldn't even process what that meant because there was a piece of paper folded inside the bill.
I extracted it, careful not to drop it onto the floor...
Written on it in messy, slanted handwriting were the words... I'd love to know your name.
I dared not look over at his table... I could still feel his fingers against my skin, like they'd been branded there.
And I dared not tell Natalie...
These days I just try to get updates out so there won't be much reading over. So if there are any errors, my apologies.
Stay safe!