I take my post right before I hear the bell to let us know we should be in place. The broom I’ll use is tucked into a thin alcove beside me to keep it out of the way while guests get seated.
For the next fifteen minutes, I smile and greet people with head nods and waves. There’s an energy in room that reminds me of when I arrived last night. This position sort of fell in my lap late one night a few weeks back while searching for a new job. I had no clue what I’d been applying for until I saw the show for myself.
I’m actually kind of glad I didn’t know. There’s a high chance I would have been too intimidated to actually apply.
But I did. And now I’m here to make sure I do my part to give others a good night.
Once the lights go down and the spotlight beams bright on the center stage, I grab what I need and move to the edge of the seating area. I have a designated area to keep clean, which means my focus is only on this eight-by-eight space, and only between songs.
This gives me plenty of time to focus on what’s going on with everyone else. Just like the night before, the emcee comes onto the stage to introduce themselves.
“My name is Roscoe, and I’m here to make sure you have a good fucking time. Yeah!?”
The crowd screams. A few shrill whistles blend with the sound, which makes me laugh at their enthusiasm.
“Let’s get started then. I’m going to grab one lucky person from the audience tonight. Who will it be? Boys, entertain the people while I search.”
A few of the dancers jump onto the stage in various costumes. They do some type of line dance while Roscoe makes his way through the crowd.
What most of these women trying to get his attention don’t realize is that he’s not going to pick them. He’s already chosen his target.
Because it’s someone who works here.
Part of the bit is that they’re in on everything. You can’t let them know that from the jump though. Everyone wouldn’t be as into it.
I zone out a bit as he goes through the selection process and the quick reveal of how the person chosen is actually going to run the show. With the chance of being the narrator, the vibes in the room shift.
Or maybe it’s because several very hot, very oiled-up men start popping around the theater. Angelo appears beside me as I’m watching it happen, nearly startling a squeak out of me.
“You have no idea how much he begged me to take my spot. He’s beside himself that he doesn’t get to come flirt with you.”
My eyes go wide at his words. “He wanted to flirt with me?”
Angelo tilts his head. “You hadn’t picked up on that?”
Before he can answer, the music changes. He throws me a wink, then rushes through the crowd.
I watch as the group of men move into formation. Their bodies are in sync to the point I don’t know where to look. It’s like they’re one big moving piece of art.
But then I see him.
Brett.
He’s on the end closest to me. His eyes are already on me as I find him. The wink he gives me has a very different effect than the one Angelo gave. This one has heat moving down my spine, and a familiar ache building in my cock.
I want him.
And if Angelo is right about him flirting, then maybe he wants me too. Is that why he asked me to come see him after the show?
It’s always a possibility. A small one, but enough that I’m not going to ignore him.
I spend the show split between two jobs—sweeping the floor, which I’m being paid to do, and watching every move Brett makes. Every body roll and hip thrust only heightens how sexy he is.
When he takes his shirt off, I nearly melt. Then we get to the part where several of them take off their pants too. Their tiny boxer-briefs hide absolutely nothing. His cock is basically on display.
I stare without restraint. How can I not? He’s perfect.
By the time the final song plays, and they come out to do the send-offs, I’m more nervous than I was at the start of the show. It’s time for me to face the music. Either Brett is really just wanting to properly apologize for before and to become friends, or he’s actually interested in me.
