Chapter 2: Building Tension
The bar was quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of the old clock behind the counter. The Rich Men had insisted on closing the bar for the night, and I had agreed, my heart pounding in my chest as I locked the door behind the last of the patrons. The neon sign outside flickered off, casting the bar into a dim, intimate glow.
I stood behind the counter, my hands trembling slightly as I poured myself a glass of water. I could feel their eyes on me, the Rich Men waiting for me to undress and serve them the next round of drinks.
I took a sip of water, letting the cool liquid calm my nerves. I was doing this. I was really doing this.
"Alright, gentlemen," I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Let's get this show on the road."
I reached behind my neck and unclasped my top, letting it fall to the floor. I could hear the sharp intake of breath from the men, their eyes widening as they took in my bare breasts. I felt a rush of power, a thrill at their reaction. I was in control here, and I knew it.
I tried to make as if it were nothing. Naked as I were, I went to their tables to ask them what they wanted to drink. As I went out of the counter they all watched at me intently.
I could feel their eyes on me, tracing the curves of my body, lingering on my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I tried to ignore the sensation, to focus on my task, but it was difficult. I'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Yet, there was a part of me that reveled in it, that enjoyed the attention.
I stood there just a couple feet away from the rich men. They moved the chairs and they were all around me, looking at my body from every angle, cheering and catcallling me like a whore.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and excitement. I was enjoying the attention, and I could feel the heat between my legs growing.
I tried to ignore the comments and asked, as always, "What can I get you gentlemen to drink?" My voice was steady, but my heart was pounding in my chest. I could feel their eyes on me, their gazes like a physical touch, tracing the curves of my body.
Thomas, the silver-haired one, leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Whiskey, neat," he said, his voice low and smooth. "And maybe something... extra on the side."
I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. "Extra?" I asked, playing dumb.
He smirked back, his eyes flicking down to my breasts. "You know, something... sweet. Something to complement the drink."
I felt a shiver run down my spine.