Page 3 of On Your Knees

“I’m just serving drinks, not dinner.”

“You’ll serve my table,” I tell him as I start bandaging his hand. “Unless your hand hurts too much?”

“No, it’s fine, but I doubt they’ll—”

“Test it.”

I release him so he can flex his fingers. They’re nimble, delightful to watch, and he doesn’t show any sign of pain even though it must hurt. I wonder… how much pain could he handle?

Images flash through my mind, some good, some bad, and my cock throbs against the bars of its cage.

I throw away the wrappers and return the first aid kit to its cabinet, then I motion Levi to follow me to the door. I stop abruptly, making him bump into me. He tries to step back, but I catch his elbow.

“I’ll tell them that you’re serving my table,” I say.

Levi is several inches shorter than I am, so his head is tilted back to look up at me. I can tell he doesn’t think it will work, but he says, “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

It’s not nice of me, not at all, not for so many reasons—and it’s definitely going to work. But I just smile and say, “You’re welcome, Levi.”

When we’ve parted ways—with him looking back over his shoulder and me watching him—I detour to the kitchen. I tell the coordinator to reassign Levi to the Castle table.

She’s clearly startled and displeased, but she only says, “Of course.”

Like most people, she assumes that Ruby’s desires and mine are aligned.

Then I return to the ballroom. I get a fresh drink at the bar, buying time for Ruby to take her seat. Most people have by now, but a few are lingering in pre-dinner conversations.

Finally, she sits. The table is full except for the seat to her right. I take a circuitous route so that I can approach from behind. Her stiffness tells me that she knows I’m coming. It’s subtle, but I can see it. I know all her tricks.

But she knows mine, too, so she manages not to flinch when I lay my hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss her cheek. I hate it, but so does she, and that’s what counts.

That, and the way she must seethe inside when I say, “Hello, Mother.”

TWO

Levi

When he said I’d be serving his table, I didn’t know he meant the front table. As in the one with all the richest people and the lady who’s hosting this whole thing, raising money for some youth outreach center.

Fortunately, there are two to three servers per table, so it’s not totally on me. And it does mean that I get to finish the event, which means I’ll get paid in full, and that means I can pay back some of the rent I’m behind on.

But I’ll still be so close to eviction that it hardly matters.

Fuck, I can’t think about that right now. I have to study the diagram of the table to memorize the food orders and seat assignments of each person I’ll be serving. Of course my eyes snag on his name first: Ethan Castle. He’s sitting right next to the host, Ruby Castle.

Oh my God. This is his family’s charity.

I always imagined charities as something that people sent in twenty-five dollars to because an ad on TV showed a sad puppy or a sick kid. I had no idea they looked like this, with a string quartet playing and lobster tail as an appetizer.

I grab my two assigned plates from the kitchen, Ethan’s and one for a man across the table from him. The other servers have heavier loads, but for obvious reasons, I’m not really trusted.

I follow the other servers out, one male, one female. They share a disdainful look, but they otherwise pretend I don’t exist. That’s fine. I’m used to it.

What I’m not used to is the way Ethan grabbed my hand and led me across the ballroom.

Okay, that sounds weird.

But it was weird.