Chapter Text
Charlie felt her shirt being tugged from the waistband of her pants. Alarmed, she seized the culprit before it could slide underneath; an indecorous, wandering hand with long, elegant fingers and a glinting, vintage watch that reminded her they were both still very much on the clock and they can’t be doing this right now. She broke away from what was supposed to be a quick kiss, gasping to catch her breath.
“Wait – I gotta get back to work.” She managed to get the words out, but they caught on a sharp inhale as his hand traced up her side.
The only response she received was a noncommittal hum against her cheek, followed by damp, open-mouthed kisses lining her jaw and creeping down her neck.
“Nnh, Alastor.”
Much to her dismay, her paramour either misunderstood her protest or chose to disregard it. Alastor was not playing fair today—no; he was relentless, attacking her weakest points with tongue, teeth, and rapacious hands in some kind of ambush tactic she had not at all seen coming.
All she could do was gasp and strain to keep her vocal cords from broadcasting the sounds he seemed so eager to drag out of her. Her vision blurred at the edges, all rational thought clouded over by his overwhelming attention.
Alastor withdrew from her neck with a wet sound, leaving purpling skin and the faint indents of his canines above her collarbone. He returned to her face, directing it with a deceptively gentle touch just as the fingers of his other hand splayed over her torso, nails clawing at the skin of her sternum. The wretched man had gotten under her shirt!
Charlie squeaked into his mouth as he lifted her, pressing her back against the cold, stony wall of the wine cellar, a sharp contrast against her overheated skin. The shock of it was anchoring, returning her mind to the present, where logic and responsibilities regrettably lived.
Before she could even think to get a word out, however, the position had her center of gravity bearing down exactly where they needed it, eliciting a breathless moan from both of them. Alastor hoisted her thigh over his hip and ground himself in, chasing the feeling while Charlie’s hands scrambled over his shoulders in a vain attempt to lift herself away from the pressure.
“Al – ”
“ – You’ve been so busy,” he finally rasped, voice an octave deeper than his normal register. “A few more minutes, darling.” The uncharacteristic neediness of his tone threatened to undo her completely. “I’ve missed you.”
Searching fingers coiled through her short hair, gently tugging, tilting her head back to expose her throat once again so he could continue his onslaught.
“I,” Charlie’s eyes closed, doing her best not to sound so breathless when his tongue traced over her jugular, “missed you too, but, I’ve been learning how to run the bar on my own, and I really,” she paused, brain stalling when a hot mouth closed around a sensitive earlobe, “really need to lock it down since you’re taking Husk out of town with you, which – Ah. Ahh. Means I’ll be handling it solo. Not to mention studying! I have midterms – ”
“ – Such a wonderful job you’ve been doing, dearest,” Alastor murmured into the dip beneath her ear, “but I need your attention. If you please.”
Lord almighty. Charlie couldn’t bring herself to respond outside of the little moans he was coaxing out of her. Just as Alastor was reaching down between them for the top button of her slacks, she at last found the wherewithal to give his chest a firm and resolute shove.
Charlie could practically hear a record scratch accompanying his widened gaze. A rather adorable look on him, she noted distantly, as her own eyes trailed down to her palms planted on his chest.
“And I need to get back to work.” She forced a laugh—It sounded pathetic, and her throat was parched. What followed was an uncomfortable silence broken by their heavy breathing. Charlie’s hands smoothed over the front of his grey suit jacket uselessly, trying to blot out the sensation of him hot and pulsing between her legs.
When he didn’t respond, she took the initiative and dragged her leg down from his hip, shimmying herself from her spot between the wall and a hard place. She stumbled, throbbing, aching, chest still heaving.
“Sheesh, Al! You’re cute, but I like my job.” Her failed play at bravado and nonchalance was met with prolonged silence.
Charlie did her best not to squirm while waiting for his response, trying to quash the feelings of instant regret for blue-balling them both for the umpteenth time. She started tucking her dress shirt back into her slacks.
Alastor remained where he was, body facing the wall to catch the cool draft that ebbed from its surface. A considerable amount of blood was unavailable to fuel his thoughts, and it was an effort to haul them away from what-ifs and almosts. He pulled at his collar to release some heat, adjusted his tie, then dragged a hand down his face, counting backwards from ten.
Finally, he glanced over his shoulder with an irritated smile. “Surely your boss would forgive you.”
His intentions must have been plain to see because she broke eye contact, a deep flush darkening her cheeks again.
“Look. You can’t give me special treatment just because we’re—” her voice dropped to a whisper as she gestured with hunched shoulders; “— sleeping together.”
“Are we?” he muttered under his breath.
Charlie opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The strange lilt in his tone had caught her by surprise. She didn’t have much time to process it either, because he spun around and carried on with an exaggerated cheeriness. “Anyhoo, to answer your question: yes, I absolutely can!”
He stalked around her, conspiratorial; “Picture it. If you were my assistant, we could work on whatever we want, whenever we want, in my office. No interruptions.”
Charlie watched, incredulous, as he sat himself on a stack of beer cases, legs crossed and as unruffled as can be. As though he hadn’t been on the verge of fucking the common sense out of her in that tiny wine cellar.
A spiral of heat curled in her stomach. Would it be the worst thing to give in? They were both clearly wound tight and in need of the release. But the line between business and pleasure was already so blurred, she didn’t want to push it any further. It didn’t feel right.
“Mayhaps we can convince old Vox to do away with those godawful, tasteless outfits.”
It was astounding, if not a bit frightening, how quickly he was able to vacillate between various demeanors. It dawned on her that she was, in fact, quite adept at keeping pace with his antics. Usually.
His… libido was a bit of a shocker. Ever since their first tryst, he’d started behaving like a hormonal teenager with no qualms about the location of their activities so long as there was some level of privacy. It was risky behavior she had never entertained, even at her most rebellious.
Most worryingly, he may have even begun to shirk his professional responsibilities because of her, and she refused to have that on her conscience.
“Well?”
Charlie exhaled, regaining her bearings.
Now is not the time to introspect and overthink your salacious relationship with your boss.
“Fiiirst of all,” she said, moving away to search for the vintage bottle that a customer had requested. She spotted it on one of the highest shelves of the wine rack. Right. Top-shelf. Husk mentioned there was a stepstool somewhere… “In that scenario, I really doubt we’d get anything done.”
“Nonsense, we’d get plenty done,” Alastor crooned beside her head, “You in my lap, checking my work.” He reached from behind to snatch what she wanted off the shelf. “Keeping me warm.”
“—Second!” Charlie turned to face him, her mouth in an unamused pucker. “I want to earn my tips, not get paid for taking yours so over and over,” the latter half of her sentence came out rushed, her ears bright red, and her shoulders curled inwards.
“Because – While sexwork is a perfectly legitimate career, I…” Her brows knit together as she struggled to articulate the insecurity that had been brewing in the pit of her stomach for quite some time, before she continued, voice small and subdued. “I don’t want to feel like I’m getting paid for that. And! I don’t even want to get into the whole conflict of interest thing.”
Charlie stretched for the bottle, letting out an indignant noise when he held it out of reach.
Alastor bent forward at the waist, causing her to retreat once again, but there was nowhere to go. His hand landed on an empty shelf slot beside her shoulder to steady the wine rack, just as her back collided against it with enough force to rattle its precious contents. Charlie finally deigned to meet his eyes, unsure what to make of the reproach she found there.
"That is not what this is," he admonished, all playfulness gone. After a beat, he leaned down to kiss her once more. This time it was soft and beseeching, lacking the heat from his earlier advances. It quickened her pulse all the same. Damn it, the man was too smooth for her own good.
Before things could re-escalate, she nipped at his bottom lip and yanked the bottle out of his distracted clutches.
“Oh, what a dirty trick,” Alastor grumbled. He brushed a fingertip over the spot she’d bitten, a curious look passing over his face as he processed her little show of aggression.
“Nope, playing by your rules,” she shot back smugly. After double-checking the bottle's label, she turned towards a discarded beer tap to check her distorted reflection, brushing her hair behind her ears, making sure her suspenders sat neatly on her shoulders. Satisfied, she then pivoted to check herself from another angle, smoothing the front of her shirt to ensure everything was fastened.
“Hm. Will you be buttoning up further?” Alastor, unburdened with any need to make himself presentable, simply watched her, chin resting on his open palm.
“No, it’s fine. Vo—” Charlie was quick to catch herself. Any mention of his business partner would make her argument less convincing. She cleared her throat, leaning into her reflection and patting her cheeks to cool them down. “People tip better when there’s more skin showing. It’s common sense!”
He squinted, tilting his head to the side. “If that is the case, you may as well start wearing that uniform again.”
“Nuh-uh. If Husk doesn’t have to, then I don’t. Hey,” She took a step towards him, cocking a hip and crossing her arms. “Why are you being a grump?”
“Aside from our current drought of a situation?” He looked away, his ever-present smile looking more like a grimace. “I’m not thrilled at the prospect of hooligans salivating over a few open buttons. If you’re finished here, we should return to the bar.”
“No, sir. I’m heading back to the bar, and you’re going to your office.”
“I can work just fine from the end of – ”
"Al, please. You've been helicoptering a teensy bit."
“I just want to remind them that bar staff are completely hands-off!”
“A-las-tor,” Charlie started in a sing-song tone, sidling closer to him, “are you jealous?”
“...No.”
“Are you sure?” Her free hand drifted up his front, the pads of her fingers brushing over his tie and needlessly adjusting his collar. “Because you sound jealous.”
“If I am, it’s because I’ve been deprived of you for far too long.” Alastor groused, hands resting on her hips. The urge to draw her to him was almost irresistible, but she made clear she did not want to go any further at the moment, and he regained enough of his wits to remind himself he wasn’t some degenerate sex pest like his so-called business partner. It was a very sobering thought.
“I told you, I—”
He pressed a thumb to her lips, halting further explanation from tumbling out. The skin was warm and plush, smooth and scented with the vanilla chapstick she re-applied just moments ago. He imagined pushing past those lips to feel the wet heat of her mouth and tongue wrapping around his finger. Imagined them wrapping around another part of him.
Alastor let his hand drop and sighed dramatically, drawing her in and crushing her cheek to his chest. “I understand, darling. I'm just a miserable old fool with not the faintest clue on how I will survive this.”
Charlie rolled her eyes when he started stroking her head as though she were his soft little pet. “How did you survive before me?”
“An excellent question to which we may never have an answer. But keeping in mind my suffering, I’d be happy to drive you home after work tod – ”
Charlie interrupted him with a wince; “I can’t, sorry; midterms literally next week.”
“Right. Midterms. Ha.” Alastor’s embrace tightened. “I do fear all this rejection is doing quite a number on my ego.”
She sensed it was meant to come across as a joke, but guilt still gnawed at her anyway. She took a deep breath and disentangled herself from his grasp, hands clasped behind her back.
“What if,” she bounced on the balls of her feet and chewed on her lower lip, right where his finger had been pressed moments ago. “What if I stayed for a whole weekend at your place, after your trip? No work, no school, no interruptions. How does that sound?”
“Hmmmmm,” Alastor’s hawk-like gaze narrowed. He folded his arms and tapped his chin in an exaggerated display of consideration. “It sounds too good to be true. Like I’m missing a loophole.”
An entire uninterrupted weekend, just them, alone at his place? A notion filled with untold promise! Charlie had unearthed interests and fascinations he’d not cared for before, and this was his opportunity to explore all of them. He’d stock up on necessities and whatever debauched item – toy, aid, outfit, whatever – he could come up with. He’d unplug every phone or other form of communication he could find. And then… and then he’d make her beg and regret not spending time with him. He’d ensure no one else could ever measure up, ensure she was every bit as enamored as he. Make sure she was unable to think about work whenever she looked his way. And, with any luck, dissipate the tension that was steadily building in him.
Charlie interrupted his plotting with an exasperated sigh. “What possible loophole could there be?”
“What loophole indeed! So alllll I have to do is leave you be, sit in my office, and not plot the demise of every person in the bar that dares to have indecent thoughts about you? And when I’m back from that asinine excuse for a work trip, you’ll stay at mine for the whole, entire weekend?”
“Yes?”
“I am amenable to this.” He leaned in, eyes lidded and smile gleaming in the low light of the wine cellar. “It’s a deal then?”
When he stuck a palm out in front of her, Charlie laughed in disbelief, wondering if she hadn’t considered her offer to him thoroughly enough. Nonetheless, she reached out to shake his proffered hand; she wasn’t trying to trick him, she was just offering a carrot for good behavior.
“You‘re so weird,” she jabbed, but as soon as those long fingers closed around hers with shocking firmness, the words came out more like a nervous squeak.
Alastor’s smile only widened in response.
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vox was many things. An optimist was one of them; he fancied himself a glass-half-full kind of guy, able to see the silver lining in any situation, able to sift gold from rivers thought barren. He was also an opportunist, a consummate expert at pouncing on the most marginal openings, taking miles for every forced inch.
These two traits in tandem got him far in nearly all aspirations—he could probably sell rocks as if they were 5-carat gemstones if he wanted—and without such talents, Alastor would’ve given him the slip ages ago. It took a great deal of effort to entangle himself in the enigmatic man’s professional and personal life; years of work to craft their tawdry bond, which consisted of felonious secrets and begrudging debts. Not what he preferred, but he’d take whatever he could get.
That little Miss Charlie Morningstar managed to cover more ground than him within her first month was so god damned annoying.
Whatever, he was a pro at turning bad situations into net positives, and this one would be no exception.
And so Vox hummed a cheery tune to himself as he positioned the camera to the side of the frame—excellent, barely noticeable; one would have to know it was there to even have the smallest chance of spotting it—then he took a step back, surveying his handiwork with much satisfaction.
Excitement nearly had him rubbing his hands together in glee like some stupid cartoon villain, but he redirected the motion of his hand to run through his hair instead, shooting the concealed camera a smug grin. This was gonna be a-ma-zing. He’d be able to see everything from here.
He knew what Alastor got up to in there with his… friend; the bastard all but bragged about it the very night Vox tried to drive a wedge between them. It admittedly hurt his feelings, so, of course, he was well within his rights to retaliate to some extent. Tit for tat.
The incident that precluded his current machinations sprang to his mind, in as much detail as if it had happened that afternoon. A few weeks ago, he’d opened Alastor’s office door to find them on the couch. Them. Alastor and his succubus. Their mouths were busy, but they weren’t talking; they were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t realize he’d literally walked in on them. And now the image of Alastor, pressed against the cushions with his shirt peeled back, exposing broad shoulders and collarbones that could cut glass, with Charlie on his lap in a similar state of undress, was seared into his frontal cortex in high definition.
Tan skin against crisp, white fabric. Milky curves barely contained by dark lace. All lit by the low, dramatic lighting of the office.
He had closed the door again as quickly as possible but remained on the other side, heart broken and cock hard while he pressed his ear to the door, desperate to catch any sound from the pair. Either Alastor wasn’t very vocal, or Charlie wasn’t good enough, because the man hadn’t made a single noise that Vox could make out. Charlie, on the other hand, practically sang. He’d always assumed Alastor would be excellent in the sack, but the blonde’s reactions proved it. She, at least, was thrilled with his performance.
Though Vox understood this was a punishment of his own making, they really didn’t have to rub it in his face. They could have at least tried to be sneaky about it. But noooo, they just went around flaunting that they were fucking. Since that fateful day, he was pretty sure he’d caught the tail end of their trysts on multiple occasions, leaving storage spaces looking rumpled, which was just salt—with a twist of lemon—in the wound.
If they were going to be obvious about it, he would use it to his advantage. And since this was his show, he’d also be picking the costumes. He already had the perfect little number for Charlie to start wearing while Alastor was gone on his work trip ( that whole thing had been a headache to plan, but he’d needed time and space to bring his scheme to fruition, and Vox couldn’t manage that with Alastor skulking around. He swore the man just materialized from shadows sometimes.)
Everything was falling into place, as his schemes always did. Alastor would be out of town for almost two weeks with their regular bartender, starting the next day. Additionally, he’d fired and hired some new girls to keep Mimzy too busy with training to narc on him. He’d had enough of that tray of hers to last a lifetime.
That left Charlie on her own. The smirk that unfurled over his face was not unlike the Grinch’s.
Before he could forget, he dropped some paperwork onto Alastor’s desk—his ‘excuse’ for being in the man’s office in case he was caught.
Vox poked his head out the doorway into the hall, checking that no one was around to notice him sneaking from a space he only had the flimsiest of reasons to be in. He trotted confidently down the stairs, humming as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt. Nothing to see here; just one business partner looking for another.
He slid easily around the corner when he came to the bottom of the stairs, moving to the side so it wouldn’t be obvious where he’d just come from. Something he’d done just in time, as he recognized a pair of voices.
“We made a deal! Upstairs!” Vox knew the laughing feminine voice. He wanted to find it annoying, grating, and unattractive, but as much as he didn’t want to like the owner, he found Charlie growing on him. Perhaps in much the same way a fungus did, but growing on him just the same.
“I know, darling! I promise to behave after – ” there was a short pause, “ – after that.”
There was a giggle, and while he wasn’t sure, Vox had a pretty good idea what had happened in that pause. God, couldn’t they wait until they were in front of his camera before getting all horny and shit? There was an added tightness to his slacks as he let his mind wander over that train of thought, finally broken by more words from the bottom of the stairs.
“I need to get back, shoo!”
“Yes, yes, I can take a hint; I know when I’m not wanted. I shall see you when I’m home, then?” Charlie's response either wasn’t in words or was so low that Vox didn’t catch it, but moments later, he caught the unmistakable clatter of feet on the stairs.
When he peeked around the corner, he saw the blonde nearly at the bar. Alone.
Odd. When Charlie worked, nine times out of ten, Alastor was stationed like an overbearing sentinel at one of the end seats, glowering at anyone who looked too long or flirted too much with the bartender trainee (his sulking presence really wasn’t doing them any favors in terms of revenue.)
But his business partner’s sudden change in behavior wasn’t his utmost concern right now — he needed to check his camera feed, and he needed to make himself scarce in case Alastor discovered his surveillance device.
Vox took long strides across the dining space towards his office, ignoring Charlie’s chipper greeting from the bar. As the door to his office snapped closed behind him, lock turning with a satisfying and comforting click, he let out a relieved breath.
He grabbed his laptop and made his way to the indigo settee, which mirrored and contrasted with the one in Alastor’s office. After kicking off his shoes, he lay fully across the couch, flipping the device open and setting it on his stomach.
Pulling up the feed from the camera took a bit longer, given the multiple levels of authentication and the numerous passwords he needed to enter to access his specialized application.
The window flickered to life, revealing a clear image of Alastor’s workspace.
The star of the show was perched against his desk with a lit cigarette in hand, his leg bobbing, the fingers of his other hand drumming on the table surface with contained energy. A moment later, he snatched the printed itinerary for his upcoming trip, the agitated bend to his brow deepening as he looked it over. Vox chuckled to himself. “That’s right you antisocial fucker, you’ve got back to back meetings with influencers for sponsorships. It’s just business, baby.”
Alastor stood, crumpled the itinerary, and threw it into the wastebin without flipping through its stapled contents. A plume of smoke spilled from between his lips as he shoved his wire-framed glasses up his nose with a knuckle.
He didn’t move for several moments beyond taking long drags of his cigarette, gaze locked on the wall behind the desk.
Vox sat, admiring the sharp line of his jaw and the inviting dip in his throat where it vanished under his collar. It was easy to get distracted watching Alastor, even more so when he could do it unabashedly. For all that he enjoyed fucking around, and for all the regular lovers he had, this was still what he ached for.
His hope had perhaps been dashed by that stupid, gorgeous, airheaded, cute, blonde bimbo behind the bar, but looking was free. And Vox was going to continue looking as much as he goddamn pleased.
It took him longer than necessary to check over and fine-tune the settings of his surveillance device, as his gaze kept wandering back to the live footage displayed on the screen.
There was a moment when Vox thought Alastor had caught sight of the camera. He seemed to be looking straight at him, a slight quirk of his brow, but it was gone as soon as it came. Success. He was golden as long as the camera was still there by the end of the night.
Stage one was, for all intents and purposes, complete. Now, onto stage two.
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was a slow night, unusual but probably a good thing. Alastor and Husk left the Friday before, and the last two shifts with them absent passed without incident. At 12:30 AM, there were only a handful of tables left, with three “bunnies” managing the floor for their closing shift, and the music had been switched from the upbeat techno (or ‘cocaine-fueled garbage drivel’ as Alastor put it) to the smooth jazz that signified closing time.
With the blessing of her only available supervisor, Charlie used any free time that day to practice her hand at creating specialty drinks, using ingredients that were nearing the end of their shelf life. At her suggestion, she was also permitted to grant any successful creations to certain patrons “on the house” to cut back on wastefulness. Vox had complimented her on the idea, and ever the people-pleaser, Charlie had all but beamed following his small but meaningful, at least to her, praise.
Having completed all of her end-of-day tasks, Charlie now found herself scrubbing at a sticky spot on the bar, irritation growing as it continued to best her by staying in place. It wasn’t that she had to get rid of it so much as she kept putting her elbow on it all night. The gross substance kept catching the fabric of her top or the skin on her elbow. At this point, maybe acetone was the solution, but then it would compromise the wood gloss –
“Hiya, toots.”
Charlie glanced up to find Vox with his elbow propped on the bar, an easygoing grin on his face. His dark hair was artfully mussed, a few dark locks falling over one eye. Working in closer proximity to him led her to notice that he had heterochromia; one pupil a slate gray and the other an icy blue. It reminded her of a husky, which added to the wolflike vibe he had going on.
She could admit he was rather dashing. Not in a way that appealed to her currently, but she understood why so many of her coworkers climbed willingly into his bed. Or at least onto his couch.
For all of his interference and smarmy behavior during the business with Alastor, he’d been the picture of helpfulness since then. He encouraged her when she wasn’t feeling confident in her skills, gave her advice on how best to entice tips from patrons, and chased off at least one unwanted admirer who was becoming a bit too persistent.
“Hey, Mister Vox! What do you need?” She asked with a genuine, cheerful smile on her face. Charlie wasn’t sure they were friends per se, but they got along now – she presumed Alastor had said something to ensure it.
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ugh, please, just Vox. Mister makes me feel old. How’s everything behind the bar today?” he absently picked through the dish of peanuts on the bar top. He flicked a few stray shells away, his nose crinkling in disappointment as he brushed his hands on his slacks.
“It’s been fine,” Charlie answered, perking up as a busboy approached them with a stack of freshly washed tumblers. “Hey Tom!”
Tom, the busboy, started putting away the glasses as quickly as possible under Vox’s sudden, intense scrutiny. Noticing his discomfort, Charlie waved to grab Tom’s attention. “It’s okay, I got the rest.”
When the frightened thing scampered away, Vox took a slow look around them before rounding the bar to lean beside her, bracing both elbows against the worn, pitted wood.
“That’s good. Happy with your job? Not a bad place to work, huh?”
“Yeah, I mean, there are definitely worse places to work. It’s interesting anyway.” Charlie began to clear the rest of the glasses away, doing her utmost to look busy with a boss hanging around. There weren’t any patrons at the bar, which was a bit of an oddity given they were five minutes into happy hour. Usually, at least four or five men camped out, knocking back various drinks while she worked. “And I get to be around people, which will be a big part of my job when I’m done with school.”
“Right, I always forget how young you are,” Vox muttered, his eyes darting over her figure. “And how are things with ol’ four eyes being away? Heard from him?” He said it like it was a throwaway question, like it didn’t matter to him in the least. Not that Alastor would reach out to him regardless, not unless he wanted input on a business decision, and even then, conversations were terse at best.
Charlie shrugged, “he’s been busy, not much time to chat.”
Vox knew that, of course, he made sure Alastor’s agenda was booked full. “He’s not even trying to make time for you? Shame on him. I know if I had a pretty thing waiting for me at home, I’d be calling them every night.” Vox twisted towards her, propping his chin on his fist. “Kinda surprised he didn’t take you with him.”
“Between work and school, I don’t really have the time to go anyway.” It would have been nice to get away with Alastor for a bit. For a change of scenery, if nothing else. Though she doubted she would want to see much scenery, given how pent up she was feeling. Unless you counted different bedspreads.
“Oh, that’s a shame! He must’ve been so disappointed when you told him.”
“Umm… well, he didn’t ask me.” The end of her sentence trailed off, her voice becoming soft as she stared vacantly at yet another glass, turning it slowly in her hands.
She didn’t expect him to ask her, not really, especially given both their circumstances, but… well, she supposed it would have been nice if he’d told her he wanted her to come, even though she couldn’t. Just to know he wanted her around outside of their trysts.
“He didn’t? Huh.” Vox offered, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Probably has a lot on his mind right now. What with the state of things.” He kept his voice low and conspiratorial as he gave a dramatic shrug. “Anyway, between you and me, he’s actually meeting with THE Verosika to see if she’d be willing to work with us on promotions and advertisements for a drink we’ll be unveiling soon, provided things don’t crash and burn. You’ve heard of Verosika, right? Smokin’ hot. Super bummed I couldn’t make that trip myself.”
C’mon, take the bait.
Charlie seemed overwhelmed by the information he dropped so casually upon her. A rigmarole of emotions played upon her face before settling on apprehension. It was delicious; he wanted to savor it like the delicacy it was, but he wasn’t done working her up just yet.
“‘State of things?’ What do you mean?”
“Ah shit. Me and my big mouth.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right…The problems we’ve been having with the club…”
“What problems?”
“Just business stuff, I’m sure he’s told you.” Vox sighed with a dismissive wave. He watched her from the corner of his eye. Watched as the thought that Alastor was keeping something important from her dawned on her. It was like watching a soufflé collapse. “Kind of why he’s fielding one of my important meetings right now, so I can take care of other matters.”
“I… No, Alastor hasn’t said anything.” Charlie’s face fell as she pushed her hips into the bar, tapping carefully shaped nails lightly on the wood. The corner of her mouth turned down in a frown, her nose scrunching to the side. “Not about what kind of work he’d be doing, and not about why. It’s not like I asked, though, so.”
Charlie was anxious. That was… well, he didn’t need to tell her everything. And he probably just didn’t want her to worry. She was just a part-time employee, and they hadn’t… well, they’d never really discussed what this was. So his business wasn’t her business. However, it would have been nice if he felt like he could confide in her and share important aspects of his life.
“That’s so odd! I’m sure you have a great head for business. Can’t think why he wouldn’t have said anything.”
“I mean, we’ve both been busy and haven’t had a chance to talk much at all, let alone about work. Could you tell me?”
“I sure would like to, but… Well, you’re an employee. I don’t know if it’s appropriate for me to be telling you this kinda thing.” Vox was pleased to see her cheeks flush at his phrasing, knowing precisely what crossed her mind the moment he alluded to propriety.
He let her stew in his words under the guise of waiting as one of the servers scurried over with several drink orders. Ever the helpful supervisor, he filled several glasses with various beers and wines as Charlie prepared martinis. Despite the noticeable tremble in her hands, each drink was made flawlessly.
He hadn't realized she'd gotten so proficient. She probably couldn’t manage any of the flashy and unnecessary tricks he excelled at while making drinks, though.
They both watched as the petite redhead tottered away, expertly balancing the tray held high.
“But you thought Alastor had already told me.” Charlie pressed before he could pick back up on their conversation himself. She angled towards him to give the appearance of a private conversation as servers and the rare patron bustled by.
He canted against the countertop behind them, bending a bit to lean closer to her. “Yeah, but if he hasn’t, he must’ve had a good reason. Probably doesn’t want you to worry," Vox gave his voice a falsely reassuring quality.
“Is there something to worry about?”
“Look, Charlie… this is really owner stuff. It’s something we have to figure out how to fix. I know you’d help if you could….”
“Vox, please. I want to help! Please, tell me what’s wrong.” The earnest, worried look on her face made it difficult for him to conceal his triumphant grin.
Bingo.
Vox forced his face into a mask of solemnity, giving a small shake of his head and slumping his shoulders for effect. “Here’s the thing. The club… It's not doin’ too hot. Money-wise.”
“What?”
He risked a glance at her, the undisguised concern in her voice making his heartbeat pound in his ears. One of her hands was pressed just below her throat, like she was keeping track of her heart while being given earth-shattering news. Dramatic, but perfect for his needs. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Without getting too into the weeds about it, there were some incidents and miscalculations. Profits are down, and we’re worried about what the future of this place looks like going forward. We’ve been trying to figure out something that’ll reel more people in.”
“Have you come up with anything?” Charlie sounded genuinely worried and more than halfway invested in the outcome of his little story. A story based on fact, sure, but not to the extent he made it out to be. Yes, they were experiencing a slight dip in business, but it wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last. All kinds of ridiculous things affected how lucrative they were: religious holidays, summer vacations, changes in weather, the platform of local politicians, hell, even seasonal allergies were problematic. The cause of this particular low point, however, was significantly different from any previous one and was the ace up his sleeve.
And she'd taken the bait. Now he just needed to reel her in. Slowly. It wouldn't do for her to slip the hook.
“I have an idea or two, but… I’m not sure if it’ll fly.”
“What is it?”
“Really, this isn’t something you need to worry your head about. It’s a problem Alastor and I need to solve.” Vox gave her an encouraging pat and a smile, making sure to let his face fall as he turned away.
“I want to help! Please, tell me. Let me help. I want to do everything I can for Al.”
“Are you sure? It might be nothing.” He looked her over for a few moments before pretending to fold under the pressure of her concern. “Ok, ok. So I thought we could try new uniforms for some of the staff.”
“But the current ones are so popular.”
“Oh, I know, I know. But this one might be even better… well, maybe. I’m not sure yet. I’d like to try it out on a small scale before I order a bunch. But I have to find someone to try it out, and that’s been tricky. It’s kind of a lot.”
Charlie's entire countenance brightened, “I can do it!”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”
“I don’t know, Charlie,” he injected hesitation for effect, “And I’d want to check with Alastor first. I’m sure he’d want a say, especially if it would concern you.”
“We don’t need to ask Alastor about what I’m willing to wear.” An annoyed look crossed her face, but only briefly. He filed it away for later. Perhaps there was a crack in the foundation he could nurture. It was certainly worth a try. “Besides, wouldn’t it be a great surprise for him when he gets home that we’ve figured out how to help the club?”
“Huh. That’s not a bad idea! But… are you sure? It’s a little…” Vox sucked on his teeth, searching for the right word, “revealing.”
“That’s okay. If it helps the club, I’ll do it.”
"That’s… oh, Charlie, that’s so kind of you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Not to mention what it’ll mean to Al."
"I’m just glad you told me, Vox. I’m sure the outfit will be fine." She reassured him, a pleased smile forming a pair of unnecessarily adorable dimples to crease her cheeks. A little flutter of warmth started in his chest before settling in his stomach as he watched her glow.
"Tell you what,” Vox cleared his throat, trying to tamp down on the sensation swirling in his gut, “I’ll dress up as well! If you’re showing a little skin, there’s no reason I can’t as well! And I’ll help you behind the bar!"
"Yeah? That might be fun. Maybe you could give me some tips at the same time? Alastor says you’re good at making drinks."
"Does he? I… I didn’t know he could say nice things about me."
"He doesn’t do it often, but he’s mentioned your drinks."
Vox could not help the genuinely delighted, stupid smile splitting across his face.
"Well, how about that?” he cleared his throat and straightened. “Anyway! I’ve got the uniform in my office. I was gonna ask one of the gals to give it a test run, but this saves me one uncomfortable conversation, and I think you’d knock it right outta the park. Pretty sure the measurements would fit you just fine, too. It’ll look great. High-quality material, designed by one of my closest pals, Vel. I gotta introduce you two at some point.”
Vox inwardly cringed; he was starting to yap as he was wont to do whenever he got too enthusiastic. Charlie, sweet girl that she was, nodded along in eagerness all the while.
“So, yeah. Just stop by before you leave to pick it up. You are the best ."
He sauntered away from the bar, fighting the urge to kick his feet up in celebration. That had gone better than he’d any right to hope for. No doubt she’d look good in the tiny scraps of clothing. Everything was coming together. He could almost taste the victory of his tongue, warm and smooth like honey.
This would be perfect. There was nothing that could go wrong with all his machinations. It was in the bag.
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie stood, peering at herself in the window of Alastor’s office. It wasn’t the best mirror available for her in the club, but she’d felt more comfortable changing in here. She was certain she wouldn’t be able to wear anything that remotely passed for underwear in this getup, so that had to go. She ignored the temptation to hide it in his desk. It would have been fun when he found it; she could imagine him dragging her from behind the bar and off somewhere private.
But she was trying to avoid those liaisons in the office, no matter how much she enjoyed them. Her gaze caught on the wine colored couch over her shoulder, and heat bloomed in her cheeks as she remembered the last time they’d been alone. She fanned herself with a hand, the tiny puff of air barely making a difference, but still feeling good on her skin.
And there was a lot of skin available to cool. She’d been hoping she misremembered how little the outfit covered, but instead, she’d been giving it more credit than it was due.
When she’d taken it home to try on, her roommate had wandered in while she was trying to work out what went where. He’d stood, agog, staring at the getup before asking what kind of kinky shit she was doing for the boss.
She’d done her best to explain without giving details, but he’d finally had enough of her bumbling and waved her off before showing her how the thing was meant to go on. And then suggesting she get a wax, because there would be absolutely no amount of tucking or trimming that would do any good with that minuscule square of fabric covering her front.
Charlie winced at the memory, rubbing lightly to soothe the remembered pain. With any luck, she’d only need to wear this a couple of times, tops. She had no intention of making it her regular outfit. She did feel a tinge of sympathy for anyone who had this as their daily uniform. It was a bit cold for the club, which would be one of the first pieces of feedback she would be sure to pass along to Vox. Thank god her nipples were covered; those suckers were liable to take out an eye.
She sighed, tugging at her cuffs again – the only thing she could adjust on the thing – and turned to see her profile.
Ok, so maybe she looked good in it.
So long as it helped, that was all that mattered.
There was a loud knock on the door, and it swung open.
“Hey, princess. I just wanted – holy fuck.” Vox stopped dead in his tracks, hand still gripping the door. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers, jaw hanging on his chest as he stared at her. His hand flopped uselessly to his side, shoulders slumping as his gaze raked over her.
Charlie fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot and getting increasingly nervous as he said nothing. He just looked her up and down – more than once, given the extended time.
“Is… is it ok?” She asked, tugging on her fingers as she shifted all her weight to one foot, her hip cocking out. “If you don’t think it works, I can get changed…”
Vox snapped out of his daze, “No! No.” He paused, looking away and clearing his throat. “No, it’s fine. It suits you.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. They’re gonna be banging down the door to see ya.” He assured her, his gaze locked somewhere in the region of her chin. “What matters is your comfort. Are you... comfortable in it?”
Charlie was surprised to see a hint of color spreading across his cheeks. She wasn't sure what he had to be embarrassed about: he'd picked the damn thing out and he wasn't the one wearing it. Still, even if she hadn’t been comfortable before, his asking made her feel a little… safer?
“Might take some time to get used to it, but I think I’ll be okay. It’s physically comfortable at least,” she responded with a nervous laugh.
“I told ya! Vel makes good quality shit.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise you’ll be safe. I’ve got your back for this test run, and I’ve hired another bouncer for the week too, just in case.”
Charlie held back from questioning the wisdom of hiring additional support when the establishment allegedly wasn’t “doing too hot,” and smiled back thankfully instead.
Vox had kept his promise to dress up as well, and while he wasn't showing off nearly as much skin as she was, he'd put a lot on show – fitted slacks that flared out a little below the knee, paired with a custom pinstriped suit jacket that left his torso mostly bare. The only coverage was offered by the jacket's oversized lapels, which met at the base of his rib cage and were fastened with a carrot-shaped button. The tails of the garment ended in an exaggerated V shape above his lower back. He had completed the outfit with a pair of heeled boots, an almost comically large bow tie, and a small top hat adorned with ears.
He wore the look with a good deal more confidence than her; it was clear he had no qualms wearing revealing outfits himself.
"You decided to be a bunny too?"
"Seemed fair. What do you think?" he did a slow spin on one foot, giving her a view of his back and showing that the pants were tailored for him. A swirl of what looked like black ink peeked over the waistband of his pants, making Charlie take a step closer out of curiosity.
"Is that a tattoo?"
Vox spun quickly, tugging at the back of his pants. "We all make mistakes when we're young. Now," he extended an elbow to her, "if you're ready, let’s head down to the bar and get this night started."
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first night was quiet compared to the subsequent evenings, which was a blessing because Charlie felt like she was naked. It took the entire shift for her to figure out how to work behind the bar without brushing her bare skin over the various pieces of cold metal and ice.
She learned more than she expected from Vox in respect to chatting up the patrons. Subtle flirting and tiny tricks when making drinks – how to swerve when people started pushing a little too hard into actual advances.
By the second night, it seemed word had spread to some degree, and they had little to no downtime the whole shift. The bar had gotten so busy that the patronage had spilled over into the club proper, filling nearly every table and giving all the “bunnies” a steady flow of customers.
The third night saw numerous repeat customers, as well as several who claimed a seat at the bar and refused to be moved for hours, racking up substantial tabs. Charlie hadn't realized that people could leave a tip that large, and she had been shocked when Vox told her to keep the whole amount. When she'd tried to protest, saying the whole reason for this was to help the club, he'd laughed, pointing out that if that's what they were tipping, their bill would be plenty.
There had even been a wait for the tables in the club itself, and a few of the girls had taken the time to ask Vox about getting a uniform like Charlie’s. He’d grinned like a cat who’d gotten the canary and told them he’d look into placing a larger order next week.
Charlie had been so tired by the end of the night that she’d nearly overslept and missed her last midterm. She’d made it, but only by the skin of her teeth. The weight of midterms off her back was an enormous relief, and she was very proud of herself for managing the balance of her job and feeling good about the tests. However, she would be taking time off from work for finals and midterms going forward.
The fourth night reminded her of the old clips she'd seen of Black Friday Sales, and she was grateful the stress of midterms was off her back. There had been a line of men and women waiting at the door for the club to open, all pushing and shoving at each other, jockeying to be at the head of the line. She barely had a moment for water, let alone a bathroom break. But she kept reminding herself that Alastor would be home tomorrow, and the money they'd made in the last few days would be a welcome surprise. It helped her keep the smile plastered to her face even as men openly ogled her breasts.
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alastor and Husk stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the former’s office, taking in the crowd surging around the bar. Patrons of both sexes stood, three or four deep, trying to get closer. He wondered, ideally, what had them all so riled up. He caught sight of Mimzy standing off to the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, a frown creasing her features, and waved to catch her attention.
The look of surprise that overtook her face and the little grimace she quickly tried to stifle gave Alastor a reasonably good idea of what was so interesting behind the bar. As if he hadn’t already known.
He was tall, and with the height added by the step, it wasn’t hard to see over the crowd. Husk, who was some change taller than him, managed to see whatever was going on first and let out an audible “Nope” before turning to head towards the break rooms, leaving Alastor alone to gape at the scene before him.
Charlie stood behind the bar, a pair of white rabbit ears nestled in her short blonde hair. A high collar stopped below her chin before extending over her shoulders and under her arms. The collar was attached to light, partially translucent sleeves that ended in exaggerated cuffs, and was finished with a large butterfly bow tie. From there, all he could see was bare skin. Except for the strip of fabric that ran from under the bow tie, down between her breasts, and disappeared under the bar's edge. As an apparent afterthought in the way of decency, Charlie had placed a heart-shaped cover over each breast. Not that they did much beyond concealing her nipples. The rest of her chest was on full display.
Alastor’s vision narrowed to just the pretty blonde pouring and serving drinks behind the bar. The way she twisted and turned, how she very nearly rested her breasts on the flat wood surface when she was handing over a drink. The way she smiled and winked at the patrons vying for her attention. His mind struggled to process the reality of her, virtually naked in front of countless pairs of undeserving, covetous eyes, a hollow ringing in his ears as he imagined plucking every single one of them out of their sockets, when another figure behind the bar blocked his line of sight.
His gaze flew to the other person. The man was tall, with dark hair and bright eyes, and dressed in the most ridiculous excuse for a suit Alastor had ever seen. He looked more like one of the male performers than a bartender. He hadn’t even bothered to put a shirt on under it. The top left a well-defined torso mostly visible, which at least explained the interest of a portion of the women, who were just about draping themselves over the bar. It took him several seconds to recognize Vox as the other man did an exaggerated flip of a bottle behind his back and mixed a drink with his usual dramatic flair.
When Vox leaned forward to deliver the drink with a hand hovering over the small of Charlie’s back, Alastor’s vision went white and then bled to red, his hands clenching into tight knuckled fists.
“Al?” The voice was barely audible over the noise of the bar, but the speaker had moved just close enough for him to catch it. He glanced down to find Mimzy balanced next to him on the stairs. “You’re back early.”
“Mimzy, would you do me a favor and find another member of staff to cover the bar? I'm sure anyone can handle this; then, please let Charlie and Vox know that I’d like a word. In my office.”
“Is that… uh…a good idea?”
“It’s a splendid idea! Just a little chat between friends. If you get the chance, send up some tea and we’ll make a proper party of it.” He flashed a wide grin that was more teeth than kindness. “I suppose we already have the March Hare and the Mad Hatter, given the spectacle they’re making of themselves. I’ll have to settle for being Alice.” Alastor spun and stalked up the stairs, two at a time, to his office.
Mimzy stood for a long moment, watching him vanish. “I’d have said the Cheshire Cat, but sure, Alice. Why not?” The round blonde let out a resigned sigh and began shouldering her way through the crowd to the bar, shoving her elbows indiscriminately into groins and legs alike.
“Hi, Mimzy!” Charlie’s cheery greeting was slightly breathless as she went to fill another drink order. There was a pretty flush to her skin. And there was a lot of skin visible with the outfit she was wearing.
Mimzy had a hunch about what had Alastor’s dander up. “Hey! I’m taking over, boss man wants a word with you two.”
Vox craned past Charlie to squint at Mimzy. “Can you tell him to call back? We’re a little busy. I think he can live without talking to Charlie for a night.”
He wanted to roll his eyes. The man hadn’t bothered to reach out to either of them all week, and he decided to do it the night they were swamped and the day before he was set to return. Vox could have sworn that his business partner had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Charlie. Like he knew that Vox’s hands might have come in contact with the pretty blonde more than, and for longer than was strictly necessary in their jobs.
“Ha. Yeah, if he were on the phone, sure.” Mimzy scoffed with a jerk of her head towards the stairs. “But he’s in his office, and he’d like a word.”
The pair paused, turning to give her their full attention. “He’s back?” The flush on her skin turned a shade darker and began to creep from under Charlie’s collar, towards her face.
“Uh-huh. And I don’t think now is the best time to keep him waiting.”
Vox eyed her again. “Can you even reach the bar?” Mimzy reached automatically for one of the trays sitting on the side, and Vox was quick to add: “Kidding! Just a little joke!”
“Hilarious. Get going, I don’t want him coming back down here to look for you.”
~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie could not help the nervous prickle at the back of her neck as she stared at Vox, who’d suddenly perked up like a live wire, his mismatched eyes alight with electricity as they made their way out from the bar (the patrons thankfully giving them a wide berth).
What’s going on?
