I really like it there.
“How’s Poppy?” he asks after several minutes.
“She’s okay, I think. Nell gave her a week off, so she doesn’t have to work right away.”
“That’s good.”
“She asked me to thank you. For…”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. She doesn’t have to thank me for anything.”
“Well, she wanted to anyway. It makes her feel better. That he’s not still out in the world somewhere. That he can’t ever do it again.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat, embarrassed as he always is by any thanks or praise. “Yeah.”
I have the silliest urge to kiss him, but that’s definitely not allowed. Instead, I press my lips against his chest—just over one of his nipples. His chest hair tickles my skin, but it’s not unpleasant.
It’s not unpleasant at all.
He strokes the hair that’s fallen loose from my braid. Then he curls his fingers around the braid itself and runs his hand down the whole length of it. “I guess I better get going.”
There’s the slightest lift at the end, almost making it a question.
A sharp pang slices through my heart. I sigh. “Yeah. It’s late. Nell is going to come pounding on the door soon.”
“All right. That’s me then.” He tries once and then again before he lifts his body to a sitting position. He’s slow as he reaches for his jeans and underwear.
I wish I could offer him another option, but there isn’t one. The only reason the Pub functions as effectively as it does and we can stay somewhat safe doing this is because of all her rules and boundaries.
No customers get to stay the night.
It’s never allowed.
I shouldn’t even want it.
But I kind of do.
After he leaves, I crawl back out onto the roof so I can draw the stars.
The week drags, and Friday drags most of all.
I try not to be grumpy or whiny. I’ve adapted to life here. It’s not great, but it’s better than my other options. But it’s hardwhen you get a taste of something different but then are thrown back into reality.
I have to fuck two other guys during the week because Nell told me customers don’t like that Cade is completely dominating my weekends. So I either need to only give him one night a weekend or else offer two more fucks during the week.
There’s no sense in arguing. Nell’s word is law around here. And it’s not even unreasonable. Three fucks a week have always been understood as a requirement for servers, and evidently one man can’t regularly claim two of those weekly fucks.
So I take an older man upstairs on Tuesday night. He can barely get it up, but I do a lot of hand work and he manages about a minute of me riding him. Then on Thursday I pick a middle-aged man I’ve fucked several times before. He likes a no-nonsense doggie-style fuck, and he’s neither rough nor particularly obnoxious.
But I still don’t like it. I don’t really want to fuck anyone but Cade.
That’s a real problem for me though. This is my job, and I’m going to need to keep it long after Cade has moved on.
So I give myself a pep talk several times every day, and I’ve already lectured myself four times on Friday because I’m dragging so much.
At least I won’t have to fuck anyone else today. And Cade will be here tomorrow.
“You’ve been kind of droopy this week,” Danny says, glancing over from where he’s cleaning his tables and straightening the chairs around tables in preparation for opening. “What’s going on with you?”
