Work was harder and harder to come by for me, a mid-thirties ex-boxer with only a high school education and a face that had been beaten on by several enthusiastic fighters. That's why I was so lucky to get the bouncing job at Harvey Dennison's club, and why I was so determined to keep his wife from fucking it all up.
From the very first moment I met Serena it was all wrong. She sidled through the lineup on a Saturday night in mid-July, her hips girded with a thin, tight miniskirt. Her shirt stopped just beneath her large, ripe breasts, revealing a long runway of flat tummy toned with various subtle delineations of muscle, and shining just a little bit in the hot sticky heat of the summer. Long curls of black hair tumbled down her shoulders, some strands plastered to the moist skin of her neck. Her eyes were molten pools of deep brown, reflecting the bright lights of the club like a sinister oil slick. Looking into those eyes, finally, I knew she was trouble.
"Alright, hang on," I said, holding up my hand. "Where d'you think you're going?"
She continued until the soft, warm, glistening skin just above her breasts rested gently under my palm.
She locked her steamy dark eyes on mine, opening them wide in total innocence that I didn't buy for a second.
"Me? I'm just going into the club for a few drinks." Her eyes trailed languidly down my chest and across to my biceps. "And a good time."
I lifted my other hand and pointed behind her. "Line?" I said simply.
She smiled. "Oh, well, I'm sure Mr. Dennison would like me to be inside."
"Oh!" I said, "Oh, you know Mr. Dennison? Oh, well then, why didn't you just say so? That changes everything! Why don't you just wait there at the back of the line while I run to go get him?" I finished by crossing my arms, a tactic usually intended to intimidate people as I could barely get them packed in over my pecs. It was supposed to end the conversation.
"Fine, fuckhead," she said. "Have it your way." She pulled out her cell and started texting. I tried to ignore her as another group was let into the club.
Five minutes later Harvey was outside, his face purple. He's a small man, compared to me anyway, about five and a half feet tall but with a thin frame. Something about his long hours and small rewards made him a very caustic man, and he held nothing back as we stood toe to toe on that humid sidewalk. His neck bulged as he screamed and I focused on preparing for the strike that looked inevitable.
"That's my wife you fucking moron! Are you out of your fucking mind, making her stand in line?"
"I'm sorry, sir," I said. I had uncrossed my arms now, still eying his hands, which were moving around quickly, but he hadn't bunched his hands into fists yet. I knew he was right handed so I expected him to try one haymaker across my left cheek. Since he was shorter I wouldn't try ducking, I decided.
Since he screamed at me a lot and I hadn't lost my job over relatively worse things I was reasonably sure he was still my boss, so I decided I wouldn't block his arm when he swung and then drive my palm into his face. Best to just step back while he overcommitted, and then grab his arm. After that I would be able to control him.
"Well? Apologize to her, you insolent fucking ape!"
I glanced over to Serena, who was holding her phone to her lips and smiling. She was thoroughly enjoying my predicament. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry," I offered. I was suddenly aware that everything around us had stopped. Everyone waiting to get into the club was staring open-mouthed, expecting to see me either get fired or snap and pile drive Harvey into the pavement.
"I don't like being called 'ma'am", Serena replied, pouting. "It makes me feel old. Do I look old to you?"
I shook my head vigourously. "No, no. Not at all."
She nodded and then twined her arm through Harvey's and the two disappeared back into the club. I let out my breath and turned back to the lineup. I still had a job.
At the end of my shift I was approached by Tammy, one of the bartenders. "Harvey wants to see you," she said sympathetically. I groaned and headed to the small office on the second floor.
"Come in, Brent," Harvey said, "Have a seat." He liked to say that, as though he had some huge leather upholstered office in a bloody corporate office tower. In reality he had a little closet behind the kitchen with a rickety desk and an old computer. My generously offered seat was a wooden chair like what you'd find in a public school. It creaked a lot beneath my 220 pounds.
"I'm sorry about earlier, sir, with your wife." I tried to be pre-emptive to maybe instill a grain of sympathy that might possibly save my job.
Harvey raised his hand. "Listen, don't worry about it. Serena's not usually like that. She'd just had a bit to drink and... Well, this is a bit awkward but she actually kind of likes it when... I'm in charge."
I raised my eyebrows and said nothing. It seemed like he was saying something else but I'm not that smart a guy so instead of guessing and making a mistake I just waited.
"Anyway, I was harder on you than I should have been, is what I'm trying to say," Harvey said in one quick sentence. He rubbed his nose. "You shouldn't let everyone into the club, obviously, who claims to know me, so you did the right thing. And, well, do you want to get some drinks with us tonight? Our place?"
It was late, I was beat, and I wanted nothing more to do with that volatile woman, but Harvey was the boss. I said yes.
The Dennison's house was pretty modest on the outside, but inside it was quite well furnished. Harvey saw me staring at the leather couches, big screen TV, hardwood floors, and granite counters. "Don't get the wrong idea, Brent," he said. "You didn't get a raise because the club really isn't doing that well, like I told you. A lot of this is Serena's money - well, her parents'. Actually, they gave me almost half the money to start up the club, too."
I heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking across the hardwood floor. I looked to see Serena coming into the living room, still wearing her skin tight miniskirt and midriff-bearing shirt, and still radiating lusty sexuality from every little curve of her body.
"Oh, good, you convinced him to come." She said as she saw us. I glanced over at Harvey but he was moving over to her to give her a kiss.
Serena smiled at me. "So, would you like a drink?"
Feeling like a mouse in the cat's den, I really wanted to keep my wits about me, but the whole pretence of coming over was to have drinks so I nodded, thinking I would nurse that one drink while I was visiting. Serena walked slowly into the kitchen, her hips rolling with each stretch of her lean thighs and click of her high heels on the floor. Harvey sat down in an arm chair in the living room and I chose the couch.
Silence. What was I going to talk to my boss about? Evidently he was just as strapped for conversation so he grabbed the remote off the coffee table between us and lit up the huge flat screen TV occupying one wall of the room. Playoff basketball loomed on the screen and I settled thankfully into the details of the game. Harvey turned his chair to focus on the TV.
When Serena entered the room again my eyeballs were ripped away from the TV as she bent over to settle a tray of shotglasses and a bottle of tequila onto the coffee table. Her biceps squeezed her ample tits together and I stared at the swelling curves of smooth skin. Her eyes flicked up to mine, deep and dark and wicked. Harvey held out his hand, not even looking away from the TV as Serena placed a shot glass into his hand. He fired it back and she gave him another before bring one to me. So much for nursing my drink.
"Harvey is a bit of a fanatic when it comes to basketball," Serena said sadly, sitting beside me on the couch.
"Playoff time." Was all Harvey said. He reached blindly to the tequila bottle and brought it over to his lap so he could pour himself another drink while minimising the downtime of eye contact with the screen.
I felt Serena's hand on my thigh but when I stared at her she was looking at the TV. Nobody spoke as the game filled the room and we drank. Serena's hand began to slowly stroke my thigh.
"Well," Serena said, "I'm not much of a basketball fan, are you, Brent?"
"Sure," I said.
Serena frowned, her hand pausing. "Really? Do you play?"
"Well, no," I said. "I've only ever been a boxer."
"A boxer, really? Wow. You must do a lot of training for that. Hey, I've got a new home gym
downstairs - I bet you could give me some pointers on some workouts. It's tough to figure it out from instruction manuals."
It was around two in the morning and I was exhausted. The last thing I felt like doing was working out with this cocktease.
"Come on," Serena said, "I'll show you." She stood and pulled on my arm and I reluctantly followed her downstairs to the basement. The home gym had some nice equipment in it, but once inside I was smothered by Serena. She pushed me against the wall and melded her body to mine. I couldn't help it, my hands descended to her supple ass and I squeezed the deliciously taught cheeks. Her hot breath played over my neck and chest and her hands slid over my arms. She nibbled her way down from my neck and then stepped back, grabbing at my shirt and pulling it over my head.
"Jesus, you're strong," she said breathlessly as she took in my muscled torso. Then she dove at me again, writhing against me as she kissed and nibbled my chest and arms. I could feel heat on my thigh and I looked down to see that her miniskirt had ridden up over her waist and her bare pussy was smearing her hot juices onto my jeans.
"Hey, hey," I said plaintively but she didn't stop. Instead she kissed her way over to my nipple and her long devilish tongue snaked out and licked the hard bud. I gasped with the rush of sensation through my chest as she sucked and licked my nipple. Still nursing my nipple, she reached down and unbuckled my pants, letting them drop to the floor. In seconds she worked my cock free from my underwear and was jacking my shaft.
