"Hey!" A voice calls from the right where a long bar strands against the entire wall. Bottles of different kinds of expensive liquor sits on the glass shelves at the back. "What are doing in here?" The figure behind me the bar questions eyeing me suspiciously. His eyes are framed with eyeliner and he wears a tight black button up drawing attention to the thick muscles beneath. His dark skin gleams under the spotlights lighting up the place.
Giving him a sweet smile that isn't forced at all because this guy is really fucking hot. "I'm sorry, the door was open so-"
"You just wandered inside," he finishes for me.

My pale skin has never taken to the constant sunlight. If I'm not careful or covered in sun lotion I'll turn red within five minutes.
So, if I become a red head, I risk my skin and hair matching. I scratch red from the list. We have a lighter shade of brown, my natural ashy blonde or a cold nearly white or silver blonde.

The kitchen and the living room would be one big space with no walls between them. The kitchen would have dark brown cupboards while everything else is white.
Nodding sheepishly, I walk closer adding a swing to my hips. His gaze travels down my body openly checking me out. "Yeah, sorry. I was just wondering if you're hiring?" I lower my hood and pull my hair out letting it tumble around my face. The strands are looking and in desperate need of cutting.
"You're a stripper?" He questions looking slightly surprised. Eyes wandering over the bruise sadness shining in them.
"Yeah, and a bartender," I add just in case they're in need of that too. Looking over me one more time he nods and puts the towel in his hands down on the counter. Elegantly he hops over the counter landing on his feet next to me. The graceful movement and effortless show of agility makes my mouth pop open. Releasing a low whistle of appreciation, I let my eyes trail over his tall form.
He grins knowingly ta me. "Alright then. Come on, I'll take you to boss."
He leads me backstage down corridors lined with doors. Some are marked as costume or workout rooms others a bathrooms. We pass one marked "dressing room" before reaching the end of the hall.
BOSS is written on it, plain and simple. The hot bartender raps his knuckles against the door leaning one shoulder on the frame. A short burly man in his forties drag it open. His dark beard is short cropped and his green eyes stand out against his tan skin.
He gives the bartender a lopsided smile. "What can I do for you, Max?"
The hot bartender, Max, nods his head back at me. "Girl wandered in said she's looking for work. Stripping or bartending apparently, she does both." Max kicks off the frame and steps back letting boss get a look at me. His eyes imme go to my eye.
Nodding he motions for me to come inside his office. Max gives me a wink before heading back the way we came. Closing the door behind me follow boss to his desk where he slumps into a brown leather chair.
"Sit, sit," he murmured motioning at the two chairs in front. Boss watches me closely as I sauter over as if calculating my every movement. "So, you've worked before?"
Nodding I look at his office. There's not much except for the desk in it. It's littered with papers. By the window to the right there's a cart with some whiskey and a couple of glasses on it. That's about it. The walls are bare the tapestries an empty dark blue.
"I haven't stripped in a few years since I've been bartending but I'm sure it'll come to me quick. I've got old routines I can do to begin with and am comfortable on stage." I tell him trying not to sell myself short.
"Well, you're not hard to look at." He stared and it doesn't sound creepy or like a compliment just a fact. "May I ask how old you are?"
"Twenty-three." I supply without hesitating. "Sixteen when I started stripping and eighteen when bartending,'' I add knowing that's his next question.
"Sixteen." He breathes. "That's young." His eyes go distant lost in thought. Boss opens a drawer pulling a oack5 of cigarettes out. "You mind?"
Shaking my head in answer I watched as he places one in between his lips lightening it before offering me one. "I don't smoke," I declined it and he gave me a smile.
"Don't start. It ain't good for you." He puts the packet down and huffs out some smoke. "Tried to quit a few times but failed every time so I gave up on trying." Boss says conversationally turning the cigarette in his hand over. "Now, my back to the matter at hand. I don't force my dancers to do anything they don't want. Most of them make up their own routines and you make you own rules.
You want to add private dancers, do it. This establishment doesn't offer any other physical services but some of the boys and girls are escorts on the side to earn some extra and they all have my protection no matter that it isn't connected to working here. So, you'll have my protection and help to get out of that sort of work if you should ever need it."
"I don't, but thank you. Private dancers are where I draw the line," I tell him happy to hear he looks after the people working for him. This can be a dangerous business to be in and not all bosses are like this one.
"That makes things simple. You set your own hours but if there's extra hours I hand them out equally. Can you start tonight?" He stands holding out a hand.
"Absolutely, boss," I responded taking it.
"Great, I'll draw up your contract first thing tomorrow morning. Come in some time around lunch to sign it and get your schedule."
I nodded relieve at how easy this was. "Thanks, boss."
"Call me, Ken."