Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Ugh, Trev, no, I fucking haven’t.” Despite owning one of the most popular gay nightclubs in the area and employing a gaggle of guys who worked in nothing more than underwear, our boss was professional to the extreme. He was the last man who’d so much as look at an employee with a lustful gaze.
“Give it a try. It’s damn near impossible.” He shed the jacket and stuffed it into his locker before tugging off his Golden Girls sweatshirt. His chocolaty brown hair had royal blue tips this week that matched the blue nail polish on his slender fingers.
“You might be onto something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him crack a smile. How could he possibly let go enough to fuck?” I said with a grunt.
Trevor snorted. “Exactly. ‘Oh, yes. Take my long, turgid dick. Is that the spot? Your ass is so very tight.’” He moved his hips in a stilted, awkward thrust that matched his stiff words.
I couldn’t help but bust out laughing. The impression was dead-on with the formal way our boss spoke and his stiff mannerisms.
“Well…” I said as I yanked my sweater over my head, “… he’s doing something right. Guys come here practically tripping over themselves to get within five feet of him.”
“Yeah, he’s hot and loaded. Of course, they all want him.”
Was it my imagination, or did I hear a hint of bitterness in Trevor’s tone?
“Hey…” I grabbed a tube of gold glitter and tossed it his way. “Can you sparkle me up?”
“Only if you’ll return the favor,” he said as he snatched the tube midair as it flew his way. We’d played this game countless times before. “Actually, I’ll do it anyway. You know I love running my hands all over that muscular body of yours.”
“Please, we both know I’m not your type.” I stepped out of my jeans and shoved them in the locker with my sweater. Thankfully, Parker kept the heat in the staff room cranked up this time of year. With the foot and a half of snow outside, working in booty shorts and a damn bowtie could suck. Five minutes after working the floor, I’d be sweating my ass off, but peeling your clothes off in the dead of winter sucked.
Trevor lost his clothes, leaving him in the tight black shorts we called a uniform. “Sad but true. I don’t make much of a secret of my love of older men. I’d say I’m not your type either, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen you with anyone that I forget if you even have a type. You probably forget too.”
“Yeah, well, I’m too busy to hook up.”
Trevor snorted as he squeezed a dollop of glitter onto his hands. “Girl, please, we work in a damn sausage factory. You could get your dick sucked any night you’re here, and you know it. Five minutes in BJ Alley, and you’d feel like a new man.”
Ah, BJ Alley, the strange half-hallway around the corner from the restrooms. Twenty feet of wasted space leading to an emergency exit we’d thankfully never had to use. Parker tried for years to obtain permits to block off the area, but the city shot him down every time. It turned out they liked people having a way out in case of an emergency.
Crazy.
BJ Alley had become the worst-kept secret in Top Shelf’s history. The hidden nook patrons and staff alike disappeared to for a quick suck or fuck. After the fifth security camera mysteriously broke, Parker gave up trying to keep people away.
Trevor rubbed the glitter over my shoulders and across my chest with slow, deliberate strokes. A mischievous grin curled his glossy lips, and one second later, his thumbnail raked across my nipple. A zing of pleasure shot straight to my dick.
“Seriously?” I asked as I jolted.
He did it again. Shit, maybe I did need to find someone to get me off if Trevor’s touch was doing something to me.
I slapped his hand away before he made my damn dick hard. “Quit it with that crap.”
His shit-eating grin only grew. “Turn around so I can get your back,” he said as he wiggled his shimmering fingers.
“If you even think about touching my ass…” I narrowed my eyes at him.
Laughing, he spun me around. “I’ll behave, I promise. Besides, Parker would kill me if you went to work with a gold handprint on your ass.”
Two minutes later, I was twinkling and ready for a five-hour bottle service shift. As Trevor disappeared to wash his hands, I slipped into my low, black uniform sneakers and secured my bowtie. Black spandex shorts, black shoes, and a black bowtie—the Top Shelf uniform of champions or bottle service boys looking to score as much in tips as humanly possible.
Trevor returned as I reached the door. “Hey, wait, what about me?”