Trying something different after the Adelle's Girls series. The inspiration for this story was an interview with an adult actress that I happened to watch where she talked about how she ended up in the adult industry. Guess which one!
"Yeah I understand that, but your name isn't on the list, I'm sorry," Rick said, putting his hand lightly on the guy's arm, attempting to move him along.
"Man, why you gotta be like that. Maybe...?" the guy asked, flashing a folded twenty-dollar bill in his palm.
"Sorry, not on the list," Rick said firmly, now rather forcefully pushing him out of the way. There wasn't any list, not tonight anyway, but the guy and his two friends weren't making the dress code for the night. That dress code being: nothing short of Armani or Dolce. Plus you generally don't let in three guys without female accompaniment. And besides, Rick thought, anything less than a fifty isn't much of a bribe. "You two, go right in," Rick said, opening the velvet rope for the two young women behind Mr. Bribey. The shorter girl flashed him a quick smile before heading in to the club.
It was Friday night outside of Eden, one of the most popular clubs in Miami, and Rick was taking his shift manning the door. He looked out at the line of people desperate to get in: A long line of hipsters, aspiring models and various other boring, superficial dickheads. While he might be the guy at the velvet rope, that didn't mean that this was Rick's scene at all. He generally preferred a quiet place where you could enjoy a drink and actually talk to someone, not have to shout over a 100,000 watt sound system and be judged by what kind of watch you were wearing. But a job is a job, and Rick managed to do this one quite well, being not just a bouncer but in fact the head of security.
After letting another group in, Rick handed off the door duties to Tony and headed into the club, quickly slipping his earplugs in as the pounding bass line enveloped him. The earplugs may have muffled it, but he could still
feel
the music making his heart tremble. People paid for this? God.
Rick made a quick circuit, making sure no one was fucking behind the speakers by the bathrooms (a common one), same for the men's room. While he couldn't check the ladies room, the bartenders usually took care of that for him whenever they found themselves in there. And as Rick made his way over to the bar to check in, he thought about the bartenders. Like most of your hot dance clubs, especially in Miami, Eden did everything it could to have the hottest bartenders in the city, and as he made my way over to the bar, he did his best not to stare at one in particular.
Daisy had been working at Eden for a few months, but you could already see that she was the most popular bartender, and with good reason. In a club full of beautiful women, Daisy was the most beautiful by far. There was one word to describe her: exotic. Her skin was the color of light coffee, perfectly clear, with large brown eyes that dominated a beautiful face framed by straight black hair. Short, barely topping five two, but delightfully curvy, with proud breasts she invariably had thrust up and out of her brief top. She favored tight, low riding pants, the better to show off her toned tummy and plump rump. Even now, as she dug under the bar for ice, Rick couldn't help but admire the small tattoo of a daisy just above her round butt. Trashy? Maybe. Hot? Definitely.
"Hey Sarah," Rick shouted at another one of the girls. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine!" she shouted back, handing him an ice water. Rick drank it quickly: between the summer evening outside and the club full of sweating dancers inside, you could get overheated pretty easily. "Hey! Daze said she needed to talk to you about something!"
"Oh word?" Rick asked, trying to stay cool. Rick couldn't deny it: He, like every other man who saw her, had a thing for Daisy. Unlike apparently every other man who saw her, though, he didn't hit on her. Rick tried to maintain a professional distance with all the bartenders and shot girls that worked at Eden. Not only did he take his father's advice about "dipping your pen in the company ink" to heart, but he also knew first hand that these girls spent every single minute of their job getting hit on by guys, they didn't need him joining in the scrum. "Hey Daze! Daisy!"
"Hey Rick, what's up?' she shouted, dropping a wad of bills in the tip jar as she came over. Rick glanced at the tip jar and wondered: did she make my whole salary in tips in one night? She might. Looking back at her, he almost forgot what he was going to say as she blinded him with a big perfect smile.
"You tell me. Sarah told me you wanted to talk to me about something?"
"Oh yeah! Um," she glanced around quickly. "After work? Can I give you a ride home?"
"Sure, no problem," Rick replied, nodding as she got back to the shouting horde of drink seekers. Rick usually walked home after work, seeing as he only lived a bit more than a mile away. And walking at dawn can be very relaxing, allowing him to unwind a bit before getting home and crashing.
Leaving the bar, Rick continued on his circuit around the club, moving around crowds of dancing people to do a quick check of the VIP area. If the club wasn't his scene, then the VIP area was the epitome of places he wouldn't want to hang out: expensive, pretentious, and just plain not fun. Rick shook his head, not understanding some people.
As he made his way back to the front door, Rick sensed a bit of a dust-up happening at the edge of the dance floor. Two guys were shouting at each other with a girl behind one of them instigating the whole thing. Rick saw this kind of thing all the time, where the girl starts something that her boyfriend ends up finishing. And then getting in trouble for. Rick quickly made his way over to them, just as one of the guys shoved the other one.
"Hey!" Rick bellowed as he approached, and everyone turned to look at him. The two guys were typical for the Miami club scene: tanned, muscular, too much gel in their hair. While each of them clearly spent many hours in the gym, Rick did manage to make an impression. Rick was enormous, pushing six foot three and packing almost two hundred and forty pounds of muscle. Rick had played rugby in college, and he knew his physique was what got him hired as a bouncer in the first place. "If y'all can't play nice I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
"Ugh, what an asshole," the girl said, looking at him like he was some sort of lake creature.
"Ay man, fuck off," her boyfriend said. "I don't need your minimum wage ass telling-," he said, shoving against Rick's chest. He didn't get to finish his sentence because Rick twisted his arm around his back and started leading him out of the club. One of Rick's rules: Any customer who touches an employee or bouncer is out, period.
"Hey, hey! Get your fucking hands off of him!" the girlfriend shouted, chasing after them. They were halfway to the front door when she got the bright idea to start beating Rick on the back of the head with her purse. Rick ignored her, signaling Marco, one of the inside guys. Marco quickly grabbed her by the upper arms, picking her up bodily and following Rick into the cooler outside.
"You fucking assholes! You'll wish you never-"
"Thanks for joining us this evening ma'am," Rick said, releasing her thoroughly embarrassed boyfriend and patting him on the back. "Would you like us to call the police? If you continue to make a scene in public I will have you arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct." This seemed to shut her up for a moment. "Please come again." Rick watched closely as the pair headed down the street, still shouting... But at each other. And who cared about that?
"I think you like this job too much, sometimes," Marco said as he headed back in the front door.
"Not really. But it has its moments."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last call was at 2am, but with stragglers and the business of shutting the place down for the night, it was closer to 4am before everyone was heading home. Rick was in the parking lot chatting with a bunch of the guys when Daisy tapped him on the shoulder.
"Ready to go?" she asked. Her hair was back in a tight ponytail and she had taken off most of her make up. She was wearing her clunky, librarian style glasses. Rick thought she looked even sexier like this.
"Uh, yeah. I'll catch you guys tomorrow? Marco, remember you've got my Battlestar DVDs. I ain't fucking Netflix, right?"
"Right boss," Marco said, giving Rick a funny look as he followed Daisy to her car. Marco and the other guys shared a look. "Where are those two going?" Marco asked once Rick had walked out of hearing.
Rick trailed a few steps behind Daisy as they approached her car, watching her trim hips sway back and forth as she walked. Does she even realize she does that? he wondered, trying and failing not to stare. They reached her car, a rather reasonable sedan, and she popped the locks. Rick climbed into the passenger seat, instantly finding himself with nowhere to put his legs.
"God, I'm sorry. The only person who ever sits there is my kid sister. You're probably four feet taller than her."
"Noted," Rick grunted as he groped under the chair for the release lever, breathing a sigh of relief once the seat slid back, allowing him to stretch out a little. "Much better. So what's going on?"
"Well... Where do you live again?" Daisy asked, backing out of her spot and waving goodbye to people as she pulled on to the main road.
"220 Paulson, just off Biscayne," Rick said as he pointed to the left. They drove in silence for a few seconds. "Daisy? Is something wrong?"
"No, I... Okay. First of all I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone. Even if you say no you have to keep it a secret. Promise me."
"Say no to what? I... Okay, sure. I promise."
