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B home tonight
It was more than she deserved.
I had to start looking for a place, but I didn’t have enough saved for a deposit. I was getting there, but it was taking too long.
Oh, she’d conveniently forget to pay me back for the cigarettes. But if I didn’t get them for her, she’d call me a lazy SOB and an ungrateful child—and that was easier to avoid. Yeah, she had me wrapped around her evil little finger, but I was a wimp, okay? At least, when it came to her.
She was my mom, for fuck’s sake, and I knew that not all of this was her fault. It couldn’t have been easy being a single parent. She’d busted her ass for me for a long time now, wrecking her health and causing her to lean on the booze as an escape from the mindless drudgery of it all. But still, she’d spiraled so far at this point that I just wanted to escape.
I didn’t need the guilt of feeling like I was still dependent on her. I don’t know why I continued to feel that way. I bought groceries and cigarettes. I tried not to give her cash, no matter how often she asked or how desperate she seemed, because she’d use it to buy booze and drugs. No way was I contributing tothatpart of the train wreck.
Of course, since I wasn’t late to work, it meant I was stuck using the changing area with other servers, specifically with Cory and Devin.
Cory was all right, but Devin was a bit of a prick. And when he saw me taking my molly boy gear out of my backpack, he had to call me out.
“Oy, Toby. You got another gig as a molly boy somewhere?”
Cory glanced over. He was halfway into his stockings. He smiled and shrugged, because he didn’t give a flying fuck what I was doing with my corset and stockings stuffed in my backpack.
“Nah, I just like to wear it at home on my off days,” I said, and flipped him the bird.
“No, seriously. Why is it in your bag?”
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, Devin?” Cory said, attaching his stocking to the garters. He turned to me. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Toby. I, for one, don’t give a flying fuck.”
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“Anyway,” I said, “I just wanted to give them a wash in my own detergent. The soap Sebastian uses irritates my delicate, baby-soft skin.”
Cory laughed and got into his leather shoes, putting one on the edge of his chair to do up the laces. He was wearing his chemise already, and the white cotton drifted in cloudlike puffs over his upper half. His blond hair fell to his shoulders in soft ringlets. If anyone at Molly’s could be considered a stunner, it was Cory. Most of the men went gaga at the sight of him.
But Cory, wonder of wonders, was straight. He didn’t mind wearing the costume, though, and was enough of a performer to pull off the whole ‘I’m a gay molly boy from the eighteen hundreds’ bit. His girlfriend was as gorgeous as he was and thought it was hilarious that her boyfriend slung drinks at a gay kink club in a corset and stockings. They were cool people, and I was glad to know them.
Devin, on the other hand, was gay, like me and Robin, but I think resented that he had to wear the retro underwear and prance around for the pleasure of his customers. I’m not sure why he’d taken the job, except that the pay was good for the hours we put in, the club was respected and Jacob and Sebastian were awesome bosses. And, you know, the fact that he whined all the time was kind of a turn-on, in a strange way, to the men who frequented the place. I didn’t understand the appeal of brats, honestly, but Devin seemed to have it down to a science.
“Yeah, right. You’re probably getting all dressed up for your boyfriend so he can rub off against your knickers, right? Right?”
I blushed, because that was…perceptive.
“Fuck off, Devin. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Oh right. Just that weird girl—what’s her name? Esmay?”
“Esther. And she’s not fucking weird.”
She was a little weird, but that was why we were friends. I needed to see her and tell her about Mr. Alastair Kenney and the Chateau Laurier. She’d get a kick out of that and wouldn’t hesitate to get real with me about Alastair and what she thought of him.
I had a report due next week that I’d written approximately half of, so I needed to get on that. Maybe a night of passion with Alastair had been a bad idea to begin with, because I couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet he had been and how good the sex had been—and I really needed to focus on my studies.
Work was okay, except the whole time I was remembering the private show I gave Alastair in the privacy of a swanky hotel room at the Chateau, and coming hands free over the desk while he rimmed me.
Fuck. I had hoped for a night of cheap thrills and no attachment. I hadn’t expected to be so affected by our night together. I hadn’t exactly prepared for that. Part of me hoped Alastair would show up at Molly’s again tonight, alone, looking for me because he couldn’t possibly stay away. I knew it was unreasonable and silly, but I was still disappointed when it didn’t happen.
I was on closing duties tonight. By the time Jacob and Sebastian and I had cashed out and cleaned up, I was exhausted and barely able to function. I guessed a night of passion and barely five hours sleep was catching up to me.
“You okay, Toby?” Sebastian asked as we finished up.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
