The lighting is bright when I’m sure it’s usually lit to set a mood, and I’m able to see everything clearly because of it.
I like that I can get a feel for my surroundings before it’s all dim lights, loud music, and naked bodies.
It’s actually a really classy place.
Not that I expected to walk into some dungeon full of strung out omegas and cartoon villain alphas. I didn’t know what to expect, actually, but this gothic, almost Victorian steam punk thing really works, and I can see that it’s laid out in a way that caters more toward the staff than the patrons.
The stage and catwalk as well as all four cages on the floor have barricades, there are tons of what I’m guessing are some sort of discrete security checkpoints, and despite being set up for a huge crowd, it’s extremely open with clear views of cameras.
It actually feels safe.
Again, not that I thought I was going to walk into something horrible, but my experience with all omega entertainment wasn’t exactly great so I’m a little jaded. This place? It feels completely different and I can tell the owners must genuinely give a shit to go to such lengths to make it that way.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
I look up at the bar as a man walks in through the door behind it, an extremely good looking redhead with a pretty smile and dangerous gray eyes.
“It’s no problem.” I shift on the stool and watch him round the end of the counter, a clipboard in his hand as he holds the other out toward me.
“Styx Adder.”
“Sparrow Manning.”
He arches a brow as he sits two stools away, his body language open and relaxed as he faces me. “Sparrow?”
I nod. “You can call me Row.”
“Mhm.” Styx scribbles that down on the paper attached to the board, his tone laced with a touch of skepticism. Which is really fucking weird. “You can call me Styx. Or Red. Or whatever the hell you want as long as it’s nothey, asshole. That doesn’t typically go very well for anyone.”
A small smile touches my lips as I nod. “Got it. Don’t call you an asshole.”
He chuckles and I can’t help the way my stomach flutters.
Styx smellsreallyfucking good, like sage and mint, and he is very easy on the eyes.
Messy rust colored hair that falls to his shoulders, half of his head shaved and showing off the many piercings in his ear including a large gauge in the lobe. He has a septum ring and a few leather strap bracelets on his left wrist. His cheeks and jaw are sharp, and dusted with a dark red scruff. Styx is built kind of like a swimmer or something, lean muscle but very strong and defined, and his entire right arm is covered in bright, colorful tattoos all the way to his fingers while his left is black and white. He’s dressed very casually in his black t-shirt and dark jeans, but the shitkickers he’s wearing are definitely more than just a fashion statement.
I can see little flecks of what has to be blood on the toes, and I’m not entirely sure how to feel about that.
Then again, despite being open and friendly, those gun metal gray eyes of his really do hold something dark within them.
“Now then,Row, are you a dancer or a drinker?”
“Neither,” I blurt, probably too quick for his liking. “I mean, I’m not applying to dance for you.”
Styx tilts his head as he looks me up and down. “Too bad. I’d love to see it.” I frown and he laughs. “You’re beautiful, and you have a very unique look. It might be a little selfish desire, but you could clean up working in a place like this. Especially one like ours. Our patrons would fall all over themselves if you got up on stage but since that isn’t your thing, I’ll just have to make you my responsibility."
“Your responsibility?”
He nods. “You said in your email that you and your”—he glances down at the clipboard and grins—“friendwould both feel more comfortable wearing a mask as part of your uniform and while I’m all for it, might even make a couple of theme nights based on it, you will become the even more forbidden fruit.”
Is he flirting with me?
I can’t really tell, especially since what he’s saying isn’t a dead give away, but his tone sounds a little flirty. He’s also putting emphasis on things that make me feel like he’s calling bullshit. Like my alias. And my connection to Niko. Styx is just doing it in a way that also seems like he’s flirting with me. I can’t get a read on him, and I don’t really like it.
“Forbidden fruit?”
“Yes, love. Like I said, you’re beautiful and you have the petite, bite size little body with curves that so many of our patrons enjoy. They can’t touch you on stage or behind the bar, but having a tall countertop as the barrier between them and the mysterious masked omega they’d love to fuck makes youforbidden fruit.” Then Styx smiles wide. “And it makes you my number one priority while you’re on shift.”
