Come As You Are (Twisted Bard)

5. Olivia

Olivia

I stared out my office window at the crowd dancing and grinding below me. It was a Friday night, and Illyria was packed. As usual. Which is why the numbers I’d been reviewing all day didn’t make sense.

The remediation for the health inspection had cost us a pretty penny, as had an emergency plumbing issue, which meant our reserves had been cut to almost nothing. According to Sebastian, we were still losing money on the alcohol even though he’d tried keeping a closer eye on the number of drinks being poured each night and what was being rung up, but even I knew that was a losing battle. I promised him I’d work a couple of shifts this week and observe the situation for myself. I hadn’t been able to tell if the flush on his cheeks was due to embarrassment or something else, and it puzzled me while I watched the club from my office.

The bar was buzzing, but Sebastian, Toby, and another one of Illyria’s bartenders were handling it easily. I smiled as I watched Sebastian flirt with the customers as he deftly mixed drinks, admiring his easy smile. Bastian the Bastard was in fine form this evening.

Turning my attention to the dancers, I stared at Vee as he swayed and swung his hips to the music. His costume was a work of genius, and I knew Maria had had a hand in it. The navy bandana hanging from his back pocket was the perfect touch. According to the hankie code, it signaled that Vee was a bottom, and it was like throwing red meat to a pack of wolves the way the tops, daddies, and Doms flocked to him.

Even the twinks were in love with him, and I couldn’t blame them one bit. There was something about his innocence and youth coupled with that beautiful face and body that drew everyone in, and he’d quickly risen to the top in terms of tips. He was still a bit awkward in his movements, but that only added to his charm.

No matter how many times I tried to look away, something always drew my eye back to Vee, and I had to be careful when I ran into him in the club during off hours. It would have been easy to fall for him, but I had too much on my plate at the moment to even think about dating or a hookup with anyone, let alone one of my employees. So, I did my best to ignore the way my click stirred to life between my legs whenever I was near Vee, or the way my nipples tightened, and my mouth went dry. Or the way my entire body thrummed with desire whenever we accidently brushed past each other in the narrow hallway that led to the dancers’ dressing room.

I saw Mal’s reflection in the glass as he stepped into my office and winced because I knew whatever brought Illyria’s manager upstairs wasn’t going to be good news. Since the day Sebastian had come to me about the issues with our liquor supply, Mal had been keeping an eye on the stockroom like it held all the gold in Fort Knox. As far as I knew, there hadn’t been any more issues, but then Mal had been busy bringing Illyria back up to health code and overseeing the plumbing repair.

“I apologize for being the bearer of bad news,” Mal said, and I knew I’d been right to dread his appearance in my office.

“What is it now?” I asked. I kept my focus on Vee because the sight of him smiling soothed me.

Mal came closer, looming behind me like an ominous cloud. Antonio had trusted the club manager implicitly, but he’d always made me uneasy. His expression when he looked at me was not exactly hostile, but closer to it than I cared to experience. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the way people looked at me as if I was some odd new creature they couldn’t quite name, or the way they scanned me as if trying to figure out what exactly I was. The way their gaze traveled from my face to my throat to my hands as if they were mentally ticking off boxes and assigning me to a traditional male or female appearance. It was the way people had looked at me since I was ten and finally got up the courage to insist on wearing a dress to school for the first time.

For me, that had been a defining moment, a moment in which I declared my ability to define myself based on what I wanted, what felt authentic to me, rather than the blind acceptance and conformity I’d been taught was important by those around me. At home, worn down by my tantrums, my parents had let me wear what I liked, begrudgingly ordering me clothes online rather than risk the embarrassment of shopping in the girls’ section at Old Navy or Target.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, the other children accepted me more or less without question. There had been a few issues, but mostly they’d ignored me. It had been the adults who had the most issues, who feared for the “stigma” I might endure, and ended up reinforcing the very thing they were worried about. I started puberty blockers at thirteen after my first wet dream sent me into hysterics, and I threatened to cut off the offending body part. Antonio had been my champion, standing by my side no matter what and arguing with our parents on my behalf until they let me get the medication I needed to keep my outside and inside in alignment.

My age when I started blockers helped keep me from developing fully, kept those secondary sex characteristics Mal and others looked for to assign me a place in their minds at bay. So, Mal wasn’t the first nor would he be the last to look at me as if he were trying to figure out exactly what I was because I didn’t fit into some neatly ordered category; a category that ceased to have any real meaning inside Illyria’s walls. Coming to work here had been liberating, and I would be damned if I didn’t keep this place as a safe haven for myself and those who also found refuge here.

“Mal?” I asked, my voice tinged with impatience.

He bobbed his head and blew out a breath. I couldn’t tell if his dramatics were from a genuine reluctance to tell me his news or if he was trying to increase my tension and worry. Sometimes I suspected he deliberately wound me up in order to appear more competent when he saved the day once again.

“Again, I hate to be—”

“Just tell me without the preamble,” I said, and this time I turned around to face him.

Mal took a breath. “I think we have a thief in our midst.”

“Who do you suspect?” I asked.

Mal came even with me and glanced down at the club. He pointed with his index finger, and I turned, this time focusing on the bar where Sebastian and Toby were hard at work. I laughed because it was absurd that either of them would be stealing from me. Toby had been with Antonio since the beginning. He was one of Antonio’s best friends, and the idea that he would start stealing now was ridiculous. Even more unbelievable was that Mal would suspect Sebastian.

Returning to my desk, I sat down and shook my head. “Based on what evidence?”

“Sebastian makes trips to the stockroom several times a day.”

“That’s his job.”

“I’ve begun to check the stock after his visits and have found…irregularities.”

I put my elbows on the desk, steepled my hands and pressed my thumbs against the bridge of my nose. What I wouldn’t give for a club manager who could tell me plainly what was on his mind instead of playing this game.

“Maybe I should sell to Orsino,” I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quiet enough to keep Mal from overhearing. His horrified look and dramatic gasp would have been comical if he hadn’t worn so heavily on my nerves.

“But you love this club,” Mal protested, meaning, I was sure, that he still had hopes of joining me as a partner, and if I sold to Orsino, those aspirations would go up in smoke.

Praying to the heavens for patience, I acknowledged to him that yes, I did love the club, and that I would do everything in my power to keep it out of Orsino’s hands. Then I asked him to leave me alone, which, thankfully, he did without further conversation.

I stayed at my desk for several minutes rubbing my temples to try and stave off the feeling of despair that threatened to overwhelm me. Two years ago, this had been Antonio’s desk, his chair, his computer. Everything in this room had been chosen by him.

“Tell me what to do, brother,” I whispered and hoped, as I had since the day Antonio died, to hear something that would lead me forward. As usual, there was no reply, but a sudden surge of excited sound drew me back to the window.

My office was mostly soundproofed—with the exception of the bass from the club’s music that vibrated through the walls and floorboards—but occasional bursts of sound could reach me. I usually ignored it, confident that if it was anything worrisome like a fight, Festus would deal with it.

In this case, though, the cause of the sound was the crowd cheering for two men who were dancing on one of the platforms. It took me a moment to realize that it was Sebastian—now shirtless—grinding against a barely clothed Vee. How this had come about, I had no idea, but the sight hit me right between my legs. I may have groaned because they were so beautiful together.

Sebastian was broad while Vee was slender, but I’d never noticed before that Vee was nearly as tall as Bast. And where Vee was well-muscled from what I now knew was farm work, Sebastian had honed his body in the gym. He wasn’t a gym rat by any definition of the term, but his arms and chest were sculpted by weights, his firm six-pack highlighted by the sheen of sweat on his skin and the oil that had transferred from Vee’s body to his.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of either of them, and found myself stroking absently at my nipples. They were hard and sensitive, responding to my touch even through the fabric of my dress. My thighs tightened, increasing friction against my click as I rocked my hips slightly and continued to play with my breasts, thankful all eyes were focused on Sebastian and Vee. The glass in the window may have been darkened, but it wasn’t one-way and anyone looking up from below would be able to see my shadowed figure. And somehow, that made what I was doing even hotter.

Rolling a nipple between my thumb and fingers, I pressed the heel of my hand against my groin, feeling the hardness of my click as I thrust against my palm. My eyes burned fire as I watched Sebastian lean against Vee, his chest pressed against the younger man’s back, his hips rocking against Vee’s ass just as mine thrust against my palm. The crowd noise surged again.

Then, Sebastian looked up, and it was like a snap of electricity arced between us, transporting me to the dance floor as if I too stood on that platform, my body touching both Bast and Vee. I stumbled backwards, breaking the connection as I fell onto one of the lounge chairs that graced my office. I was too turned on to think about what I was doing, the need to touch myself, to find some relief from the heat that coursed through me from head to toe.

Pulling the edge of my dress up my thighs, I slid one hand down my belly while the other continued to roll and knead my nipples. I wanted hardness between my fingers and wished I could strip naked to give myself better access. Enough conscious thought remained for me to know that was impossible. My office door was unlocked, and I wasn’t going to stop—couldn’t stop—long enough to walk across my office and secure the door.

My fingers found my click and stroked, my hips rising of their own accord to increase the friction. I longed for slickness, and brought my fingers to my mouth—spit the best I could do at that moment—then returned my hand to between my legs, bracing my feet against the coffee table as I thrust upward. My click was swollen, hot, and sensitive, and I wished I had enough room to play with my back hole. I loved the feel of something in my ass when I came, but there wasn’t time or space, especially since I was on the edge quicker than I’d ever been in my life.

I came as the crowd below burst into cheers, then sank back in the chair, my chest heaving with each breath, bewildered at where this sudden surge of lust and desire had come from. I was well aware of my attraction to Vee, had almost been struck dumb by it the first time I saw him, but I’d worked with Sebastian for three years now. Yet it had been his molten gaze on me that had set me on fire.

Standing, I rearranged my clothes and glanced in the mirror to repair any damage to my makeup or hair. Only when I felt all was in place did I go down the stairs to my club, my heart still hammering in my chest in time to the beat of the music.

As usual, I was greeted by several of the club’s regulars and spent time talking to each one I encountered. I cherished the connections Illyria made possible and loved when our customers found each other even if it was just for a night. Illyria had been the site of many bachelor parties as well as quite a few weddings, and it thrilled me that Illyria was what had brought those couples together or helped them celebrate.

Crossing the dance floor, I was reminded how special Illyria was, how it provided a second home for my employees and a haven for my customers. It had also given Antonio a purpose, a mission, and me a place where I could finally be fully myself. We had a community within these walls, and I would do everything within my power to make sure it continued to thrive.

So, although the bar was my destination, I took every opportunity to greet everyone who nodded at me or smiled or said hello. A troubling trend ran through my quick conversations as people told me they’d heard rumors about Illyria closing or asked if it was true that I was tired of running the club and would be selling to Orsino before the end of the year. I did my best to reassure everyone who mentioned it that I was as fully invested in the club as Antonio had been and wasn’t going anywhere. Privately, I gritted my teeth at the idea that I would sell Illyria to Orsino. It would be a cold day in hell before he got his hands on even a single brick of this club.

Illyria wasn’t the first club to be located in this building, nor was it even the first club to be run by a woman. Back in the day, this space had been occupied by Time Warp, one of the original gay clubs in the Castro. There had been police raids and protests here for gay rights and AIDS funding, grief over Harvey Milk’s assassination and the deaths of vibrant young men had poured into these walls, and outpourings of relief and joy when the Bay Area Reporter’s “No Obits” headline had men crying in the streets and hugging each other because, after seventeen years, there were no new deaths from AIDS to report.

Antonio had honored that history and carried on the tradition of civic engagement and political activism. When Gavin Newsome had thrown open the floodgates for marriage equality and started issuing marriage licenses for same sex couples, Antonio had offered free champagne all that first week for anyone who got married.

By the time I reached the bar, steely resolve had settled over me like armor. I had been grieving Antonio’s loss long enough, it was time to bring Illyria back to life and make him proud.

Sebastian gave me a crooked smile as I slid onto the seat at the end of the bar that was reserved for me, and handed me a tall glass of my preferred drink: tonic water with a twist of lime. I nodded my thanks and took a sip, then raised my chin in the direction of the platform where he and Vee had given the crowd an impromptu show.

“How’d that happen?” I asked, hopeful the low lights would hide the blush that had crept to my cheeks. My belly still tingled from the aftereffects of my orgasm, and I shifted on my seat as a tendril of arousal began to waken my click as Sebastian leaned closer. I caught the scent of his sweat, musky and masculine, and inhaled as deeply as I dared not wanting him to know how much his proximity was affecting me.

“I was heading to the storeroom for some rum, and Vee stumbled into me as he got down from his platform.” Sebastian shrugged. “I bumped him with my hip, and he…well, the crowd around us loved it and started chanting for us to dance, so we did.”

“It was hot,” I said and watched Sebastian’s eyes go wide, then turn sleepy as the corners grew heavy. His grin turned wolfish, and I suppressed a shiver.

“Glad you liked it,” Sebastian said, then turned away from me to take care of the customers who were piling up to order drinks.

Had I imagined the husky tone of his voice or the puff of air that grazed my cheek when he spoke? I had to have. The club was too noisy for me to have heard anything other than the words he’d said, and any air that flowed over my skin must have come from the air conditioner. Still, I admired the grace with which Sebastian moved, the way he seemed to prowl behind the bar as if stalking the ingredients for each drink he was asked to make. I knew he was a good bartender, perhaps one of the best in the city, which was why Antonio had promoted him to lead bartender over Tobias even though Toby had been at Illyria since the beginning, had been one of Antonio’s dearest friends.

Knowing he was good and watching his skill were two different things, like knowing a lion was powerful when you watched one on TV and coming face-to-face with one as it stalked its prey. One was intellectual, mere information that entered the brain and was filed away. The other was a visceral response embodied in your flesh and nerves even if the animal in question was secure behind a fence. You felt its power in every cell of your being.

I circled my finger around the rim of my glass, gathering the wetness from the condensation and where my lips had touched as I drank. I was more aware of…basically everything as I sat there. The press of my clothing against my skin, the weight of the heavy gold necklace I wore, the faint groan of the leather beneath my ass as I shifted on the barstool, the pulse of the bass that transmitted through the floor, up the legs of that barstool, and into the fibers of my body.

There was the abundance of sound that filled my ears, not just the music that poured from the speakers and filled Illyria like wine flowing into a glass, but the hum of voices that rose and fell like waves and were punctuated by an occasional shout or the combined timber as all the customers sang a beloved refrain, their voices blending into a single organism that united all of us for a few moments, joined us in a way nothing else did.

I was aware of the odors as well. The sharpness of each type of alcohol as Sebastian and Tobias poured drinks: caramel tones from Scotch and whiskey, the sourness of beer and ale, the burnt sugar as Sebastian tipped a bottle of rum over a glass of Coke. And the human scents of sweat and the musk of aftershave. The darkness and flashing lights created a mosaic of body parts and faces, a shifting kaleidoscope in which it would be easy to lose the distinctions of an individual, and yet, people remained distinct, individual. I felt the press of arms and legs against my own, the bump of hips as people jostled for position at the bar. I was more aware of myself in this moment, and at the same time my edges blurred, my shape and sound combined with the air that surrounded me.

At the center of my awareness, though, Sebastian remained singular, distinct. I could hear his voice as he spoke to customers, smell his scent, remembered the ghost of his breath against my cheek.

Perched on my stool, I straightened as Sebastian grinned at a customer, the flirtatious expression clear as he made contact. I turned my attention to the object of his gaze, watched as Sebastian put his hand on top of the other man’s and winked at him. A flare of heat burned through my body, and I quickly downed the rest of my drink hoping to quench the flames that felt as if they would consume me. I also hoped that Sebastian might notice my empty glass and come back to refill it, but unfortunately, Tobias recognized my need before Sebastian had the chance to tear his eyes away from the young man who had captured his attention.

“Busy night tonight,” he said as he refilled my glass and handed it back to me.

I nodded and thanked him. “It does seem to be,” I said, and then remembered what Sebastian had said about the alcohol sales not jiving with the amount they went through in an evening. “About normal for the bar?” I asked.

It was Toby’s turn to nod. “Pretty much. We seem to be going through a lot of rum tonight for some reason.” He shrugged. “But that’s the way it goes sometimes.”

Vee appeared next to me, his upper body shiny with sweat and oil, his cutoff shorts bristling with dollar bills in varying denominations. He pulled several from his waistband and handed them to Toby. “Can you hold these behind the bar for me?” he asked. “Getting a bit hard to move.” He reached between his legs and pulled out some more. “I swear, some guy tried to shove this,” he pulled out a twenty, “somewhere the sun don’t shine.” He laughed as Toby put his hands up. “Don’t worry, he didn’t succeed.”

I nearly spit out my drink. What had happened to the shy, country boy who’d appeared at my club a month before? I turned to face him. “That dance with Sebastian probably got you a lot of tips,” I said.

Vee smiled shyly and nodded, and my heart beat a little harder. Whatever reaction I was having to Sebastian tonight, my attraction to Vee hadn’t lessened one bit. And when Sebastian brushed past Tobias to get a liquor from the top shelf at this end of the bar, having the two of them—Sebastian and Vee—standing in front of me made my breath catch in my throat.

They were both beautiful men, incredibly so, and I knew in that moment that I wanted them both.