"Fuck, this is going to be annoying all week," Nik cursed, peeling the bandages from his torso.
Blood glued the soft material to the sliced wound. Pulling on the bandage stung, causing him to suck in air. Next to the dresser in the back of the host club, the Chinese doctor left a fresh set of supplies to fix up the wound, solo.
Tonight, Nik wasn't expected to be a host. Instead, his duty patrolled an invisible line at the doorway. Act like a rough and tough 'Murican. The club sat nestled in a seedier part of the city, stuck in a maze of backstreets, filled with shops, strip joints, and restaurants. A typical Japanese red light district. The pay doubled. He had student loans, so any extra dollar to get out from the guillotine of debt was heartily thanked.
"Nik-san...Go..." a Japanese man called from the doorway, holding up five fingers.
Nik nodded. Time was short, so he bandaged up to prevent any blood seeping through. He hoped it'd be an easy night. Card the girls. Stop any drunks from getting in. Easy job the boss said. Who would cause shit with a gaijin built like a tank? The boss also told him not knowing Japanese was an asset. The girls wouldn't be able to charm him into getting in.
The first shift went by without incident. Hosts came to work their shift, and the few early bird regulars dropped inside to get fresh service. A couple lewd sounding comments here and there was the hottest action Nik got.
The tuxedo hugged his frame majestically. Coupled with the chiseled, square jaw, he cut a striking figure. Give the man a Walter PPK and he'd be a natural striking the Bond pose.
"Nik-san...car...help..." the manager said, pointing to a truck that pulled up in front of the club.
In the back were cases of booze and liquor. Doorman to deliveryman. For the paycheck, he wasn't going to complain. A dozen cases later, and the truck still remained half full. A small line formed at the doorway, with the second doorman holding a clipboard.
Despite the seedy location, surrounded by small restaurants and shops, the club had a reputation, he was told, for being a breeding ground for up and coming hosts. Some women wanted to spend their money on fresh meat, and get the glory of being with a host before he shot to the big time.
Inside, putting away a couple cases of beer, he saw the tables full to capacity. Champagne on tap. Soft music in the background. People having a good time in a party atmosphere.
"Door..." the manager told him again.
Despite the limited vocabulary, Nik was appreciative. The job didn't require complex explanations to do the job properly.
The man on duty handed off the clipboard. All the names were written in kanji and romaji. The moment the Japanese doorman walked off for a break, an older woman tried to walk past Nik.
"Matte," he told her, blocking the path. "Name?"
She told him a name but it wasn't on the list. He pointed to the clipboard and shook his head before pointing to the end of the line. Still, the woman persisted, speaking harshly in Japanese. He didn't know what she said, but he could hear others in the line murmuring.
Nik put his arms in an X shape. The universal signal for no. The woman got louder, making a scene. Nik didn't know who she was, but from the quick to sour tone, she either was mega rich or mega entitled.
"End of the line," he said, calmly, pointing.
This time she pulled out a cell, calling someone immediately. Within a minute the manager arrived.
"No name," Nik said, showing the clipboard.
The manager bowed to the woman. Nik guessed he was apologizing for the confusion, as he welcomed her inside without delay. The moment the woman left eye sight, the manager wrote the name on the list and handed it back.
"Fixed"
The young foreigner could only hold in the annoyance. Why should he get shouted at in an alien language because of her own mistake? The second doorman came off his break, smoothing out the language barrier with the awaiting cliental.
It wasn't the biggest of incidents, and in the grand scheme of things pretty minor, but he now felt working as a doorman a bigger chore than as a host. Being a doorman felt a lot like teaching. A quasi-middle management position, where all the man management was on your head but also all the blame. You're expected to be always right without praise, unless it is the customers fault, in which case you get all the grief and blame.
The next couple hours ticked away smoothly. Nothing of note happened but womanly giggling and a stealthy pinch of his ass. The line petered out the earlier in the morning it got. The woman from previously in the night, drunk off her rocker, stumbled out like a drunken frat boy. Whatever she rambled on about, it was loud enough to wake the dead.
Nik tried to ignore her, but her eyes caught his. A jolly drunk one-eightied into an angry drunk, berating the young man unintelligently.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't understand. Nihongo wakarimasen."
Rule number one: the customer is king...or queen in this case. Pushing a finger roughly into his chest, he stood there and took it. No eye rolling, no cursing or an unhappy grimace. Just a pleasant smile and a steel will to remain professional in front of such insolence and disrespect.
The other doorman scurried off, and quickly the manager popped out again to deal with the situation. He acted the same as Nik, bowing and smiling even when the berating turned to him. It took ten minutes to calm the woman down, and see her to a taxi.
"You...good..." the manager said to Nik.
The portly fellow slapped Nik on the shoulder. Nik nodded. It was an unexpected test, one that got passed with flying colors. Nik sighed, happy the manager was the type to see through bullshit a customer spewed. Still, it didn't change his mind that working the door sucked. One bad customer can ruin the night.
Inside the locker room, Nik changed out of the loaner and back into civilian gear. An envelope rested inside his locker. Bold, finely handwritten letters graced the front, saying his name.
"Why did the money have to be so good?"
Before exiting the club, he stopped by the manager's office. In broken Japanese, Nik thanked the man for the work, bowed, and left for the night. Outside in the cool, morning air, he immediately took out a cellphone. The sun began rising in the distance. The darkness evaporated, revealing the aftermath of the debased.
"Hey, babe, I'm done the shift. Sleep on my shoulder while I get breakfast at the ramen shop near your place."
"It is six am. Call me when you get here, okay?"
"Yeah, only twenty minutes away."
Silence answered. Leaning up against the club wall, he heard a loud yawn, finally.
"I forgot you're in a club that close to me. Sorry, baby. I'll meet you at the usual spot."
"See you soon, Anri."
All the tiredness in his bones filtered away, and the shitty customer ruining the night became an afterthought.
"Good start to the weekend," he said with joy, beaming.
X
Nik held Anri in his strong arms, holding her tiny body aloft in the air. Luscious, creamy legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Lips sucked each other loud and lewd. Every day and night, the pair fucked like rabbits. If it wasn't in one of their apartments, it was in the dressing room at a photoshoot or even in the dirty, public toilet of a park.
"Fuck, I needed this," he grunted, giving her ass a firm smack.
"Don't go gentle this time. I don't feel sore anymore."
His cock nestled up against the dripping, drooling doorway. It was lubed up so much, he probably could stick a hand in there if she were that kind of kinko. But his cock would do the trick. It always did.
"I need it too, baby. I want another good fucking. Can you flip me upside down?" she asked.
"Don't want to pop the stitches, Anri. Once they're healed."
He carried her over to the wall, using it to hold her mid-air. With ease, he hooked her legs to put that fabled Asian flexibility to the test. Nothing in the way from pushing in as deep as he wanted. The more Nik would push inside, the more she'd cry in pleasure. Those sweet, sexy, Japanese porno moans kept that beast awake and eager to test which would run out of steam first.
Their lips sucked each other off again, but out of reflex she bit him the moment he speared inside. Nik bit back, reciprocating the masochistic pleasure. The other benefit from fucking so much was their bodies were fully scouted. No marks in a visible area that would ruin a potential photo shoot. Every mark or bite in a sensual area for their eyes only. With Anri completing a swimsuit calendar a week ago, creativity got put to the test.
"Deeper, Nik, fuck me deeper. Push it in as hard as you can. I want to feel full. I want to feel you all inside me."
"I'll break you if I do that," he grunted, nestling his head in her shoulder.
"Do it, baby. I want it all. Your side job makes me jealous. I want to know I'm the only one for you."
"You are, Anri. You're the only one for me."
