At Your Pleasure #1
Sonny's Interview
An Erotic Short Story By Constance Letterman
Published on Smashwords
Copyright 2012 by Constance Letterman
*****
The setting sun was already well behind the buildings when I arrived at the At Your Pleasure Bar. I looked at my watch, 7:15. I was fifteen minutes early for my interview. I hate interviews, they rattle my nerves, and inevitably end in disappointment. I sighed to myself. Showing up early was going to make me look desperate, but this job could be the break I needed. Just the thing to get my life on track again. Since the last place I worked had closed down, I'd been bouncing from one prospective job to another.
I was dressed for success, or at least the closest I could get on my budget, in a sexy low cut dress with a matching jacket, high heeled boots, and lucky thong underwear. My dirty blond hair was pulled back in a severe bun. I'm not what you would call drop dead gorgeous. I have a little extra padding around the middle, but I sport a DDD bust which has always been one of my better features.
The add for the job had been floating above the BDSM forum that I frequented. I tend to end up in submissive chat rooms where everyone complains about how they can't find a decent Dom. The add caught my eye mostly because it was more interesting then the drama I was sloughing through.
Wanted: Looking for female entertainers. Eager and willing to serve. No experience required. Room and board included.
It was the room and board that really got my attention. Anything had to be better than sleeping on a couch. That was all there was to the add, no further explanation. There had been an email address attached, so without much hope I sent a request for more information. What I got back was the street number of a bar in the downtown area, and a time for an interview, 7:30 pm.
It was very likely the job was for a position as a stripper, or an escort. If that were the case, I didn't stand a chance. I'm what would be called pleasingly plump, but people rarely want a cute portly woman for those kind of jobs. That wasn't going to stop me from trying. Even if I didn't want to look desperate, I was in dire need of a job. I calmed my nerves and took a deep breath. If I was going to fail, I was going to do it with dignity
Inside, the bar was small and musty, with lots of brass fixtures and old wood. Folding chairs and tables congregated around a platform stage, contradicting the antique chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Against the far wall was a large metal door marked VIP's only. It was quarantined with a velvet rope, and there was a purple glow filtering underneath the doorjamb. Nothing like an odd purple glow to make a room look important..
Singing, the bad kind that happens on karaoke night in a bowling alley, engulfed me as I stepped in. At Your Pleasure was empty, except for an older woman with salt and pepper curls standing behind the bar with her back to the room. The horrible singing was coming from her, and it made me cringe every time she missed one of the high notes. She wasn't even singing along to the radio, just free-styling an eighties one hit wonder, and murdering most of the lyrics.
“Excuse me,” I called to the only living soul in the room, making my way toward the cacophony.
“What? Oh, sorry,” apologized the bartender. “I thought I was alone. The night's been pretty slow. Would you like a drink?”
I smiled and shook my head. I could have used a good stiff drink, but I didn't even have enough pocket money for the cheap beer. “I'm here about the job. Are you the one I should speak to?” I tried to sound as chipper as I could manage.