Page 6 of The Player's Club
My dick stirred. I was about to go check out my usual watch rooms when I caught a server sidestep Handsy Paul.
Handsy Paul had gotten his nickname because he was—you fucking guessed it—handsy. Sure, this was a sex club. Touching was encouraged here, generally speaking. But Handsy Paul liked to get handsy with women who didn’t want to be touched, often the staff.
Why he hadn’t gotten banned yet, I didn’t fucking know. Maybe he knew the owner or something. But I’d stepped in more than once when I’d seen women looking uncomfortable around him.
“Aw, come on, baby, don’t be shy,” Handsy Paul whined in an obnoxious singsongy voice.
The server looked like a total deer in headlights. I’d never seen her before, probably a newbie. Sometimes I wondered what the people who did the hiring here told employees to expect. From the looks of things, it didn’t seem like this woman knew what she was getting herself into when she’d agreed to work here.
“I can get you something to drink—” she said, but Handsy Paul took hold of her forearm, and her tray of drinks nearly fell to the floor. I moved quickly to step in, steadying both her and the tray.
The server’s eyes widened. But I wasn’t done with Handsy Paul yet. I gave him a restrained shove, yet the scrawny asshole went flailing backward.
He scowled up at me, his bushy eyebrows turning into a fully formed caterpillar on his forehead. “What the fuck? You pushed me!”
“You’re lucky that’s all I did. This is the last time I’m telling you. Keep your hands to yourself unless you have permission to touch.” I thumbed to the server. “And definitely leave this lady alone. She’s not here to play with you. She’s just trying to do her job.”
Handsy Paul’s face turned red. “And I was just helping her do her job.”
The server visibly bristled. I had to stifle a smile because she looked pretty fierce right then. Despite her tiny size, she looked like a girl you didn’t want to mess with.
“I’m not here for that,” the server snapped. She glanced down at her lingerie-clad self and added, “Despite how I may be dressed.”
Handsy Paul seemed to consider trying another tactic. But I was over this whole fucking scene. Backing the guy up against the nearest wall, I spoke in a low voice, “If I see you harass another woman here, I’ll throw you out myself. You don’t want that, trust me. I’m not as nice as security. And wipe that fucking smirk from your face before I do that for you, too.”
His smirk vanished. Grumbling obscenities, he pushed me away and scurried off, metaphorical tail between his legs.
The server sighed. “Thanks for the help.” She took in my appearance, and asked, “Do you work here?”
I wasn’t used to not being recognized. I didn’t know whether to be offended or amused. Based on the woman’s expression, she genuinely didn’t seem to know who I was.
I glanced down at my clothes: T-shirt and track pants. “Do I look like I work here?” I asked, amused.
She let out a laugh. “Well, I didn’t want to say it . . .”
“What? That I look like I live in my car?”
She giggled, and the sexy sound made my dick twitch. Maybe even more than the watch rooms did. Despite the low lights, I could tell she was gorgeous, with eyes shaped like a cat’s, high cheekbones, and luscious, full lips. And that was all before my eyes dropped to the banging body below. She looked like a Victoria’s Secret model in her bra and panties. I wonder if there’s a set of feathered wings she could wear . . .
Man, what I would give right now to strip those bits of material off her body to see the entire package. I couldn’t help but wonder what color her nipples were. Red as berries, or brown like the warm shade of her eyes?
Fuck, I’m getting hard just standing here with this woman.
“I . . . I should get back to work.”
I offered a curt nod and let her go even though I wanted to find an excuse for her to stick around. She’s not here to partake, I reminded myself. She was just trying to earn a paycheck.
As she walked off, she almost upended her tray a second time, this time without any reason. She clearly had zero waitressing experience. I just hoped she didn’t spill those drinks on someone who’d get her fired.
I watched her from a distance as she tried to take down drink orders, but eventually I had to force myself to stop staring like a creep. I was going to turn into another Handsy Paul if I wasn’t careful.
I went back to wandering around, considering if I still wanted to go to a watch room. I figured I could use a distraction from the off-limits Victoria’s Secret angel, so I decided I’d view my usual one. The guy at the door let me in with nothing more than a nod.
The room was plush, though it was as dimly lit as the rest of the club. The furniture was all velvet—couches, settees, and sofas. At the back was a fully-stocked bar.
The only rule in watch rooms was that patrons weren’t allowed to approach and touch the participants. If they wanted to have fun, they’d have to either book a room for others to view them or pay for a private room.
Opposite us was a two-way mirror where we could watch the scene unfold. This room was specifically for orgies, and I watched as two different women pleasured a man. A blonde sucked his cock, while a black-haired woman kissed him. They were spread out on a lush silk bed, and all kinds of accessories were scattered about the room: whips, chains, handcuffs, dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, and a couple of things I didn’t think I’d ever seen used before.