Sexting My Ex’s Dad (Forbidden Silver Foxes)

7. Stella

7

STELLA

T oday is my first day.

My hand trembles as I reach for the door handle to Regency, the elite gentlemen’s club. It feels like every nerve in my body is on edge, but it’s a little bit too late to have second thoughts now.

“Stella! Over here!” Marnie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I step inside. She stands near the entrance, her short red hair framing her older face in playful waves.

“Hey, Marnie,” I greet her, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

“Ready for your first day?” she asks with a mischievous smirk that somehow eases my anxiety.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit.” She grabs my hand. “Let me fill you in on what you’ll be doing here.”

As we walk towards the back of the club, Marnie explains my role as a server for the rich men who frequent Regency. It doesn’t sound too difficult.

This place is different from anywhere else I’ve ever been. The scent of expensive cigars and the clink of glasses fills the air, making this place seem even more expensive and elusive.

“Alright, so the uniform is a bit... scandalous,” Marnie says, handing me a small, black, lacy outfit that leaves little to the imagination. “But just think of it as part of the experience.”

“Experience?” I ask, swallowing hard, as my eyes rake over it. It’ll be weird to wear this out in public when I normally wouldn’t even wear it in the comfort of my own home without mens’ eyes on me.

“Exactly. These men come here to escape their mundane lives and indulge in their fantasies. They’ll call you ‘mistress,’ but don’t let it get to you,” Marnie adds, her tone reassuring. “At the end of the day, you’re in control. You set the boundaries, and they have to respect that.”

I nod, taking a deep breath as I hold the skimpy uniform in my hands. I can do this.

“Thanks, Marnie, for the opportunity,” I say, my voice steady and firm. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good girl,” she replies with a wink. “Now go get changed, and I’ll see you out on the floor.”

I go to the bathroom, and it doesn’t take me long to change. When I step back out of the stall, I can’t help but to stop at the mirror, overlooking the sinks, and stare at myself.

A part of me feels ashamed to see the girl staring back at me, wearing a tight maid outfit that leads little to the imagination, the bow tied perfectly in my hair. I look like some little prim doll.

But it’s worth it if it means that I’ll be able to take care of my brother.

I look away from the mirror and leave the bathroom.

As I step back out onto the main floor, I feel the eyes of the rich men upon me, their gazes sharp and predatory. They size me up, making comments and giving me suggestive looks that make my skin crawl.

“Ah, fresh meat,” one man murmurs, his eyes roaming over me with a lascivious smile.

“Easy, tiger,” Marnie interjects playfully, thankfully finding me and looping her arm through mine and guiding me past him. “Give the girl some space.”

My stomach churns as we continue our trek through the sea of lustful gazes and lewd remarks. These men may view me as nothing more than an object of desire, but I refuse to let them define me. I am more than this uniform, more than their fantasies. I may be their ‘mistress’ at work, but once I’m off the clock, I could go back to being simple Stella.

“Remember, Stella,” Marnie whispers as we reach the bar, “you’re in control. Let them look all they want, but don’t let them touch. You’ve got this.”

I nod, steeling myself once more as I prepare to face the night ahead. And with each step I take, I feel a newfound sense of resolve surging through me, pushing me forward into the unknown.

The clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation surround me as I weave through the maze of tables, tray in hand.

It isn’t so bad…not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Sure, men are looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, but just like Marnie promised, they keep their hands to themselves.

“Another round for us, darling,” a portly man with slicked-back hair drawls, reaching out to graze my arm. I dodge his touch, maintaining my professionalism.

Most of them anyways.

“Of course, sir,” I reply, not letting my discomfort show. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As I turn away, I sense more eyes on me, but I square my shoulders, refusing to let them intimidate me. This is just another job, I remind myself. I can handle this.

“Hey, you’re doing great,” a soft voice says from behind me. Turning, I see a woman with fiery red hair and a kind smile. She extends her hand. “I’m Isobel, by the way.”

“Stella,” I respond, shaking her hand gratefully. “Thanks, I appreciate it. This is all a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

Isobel nods sympathetically. “I know how you feel. My first day here was a whirlwind, too. But don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Us mistresses have to stick together.”

The word should leave a sour taste in my mouth, but the way she says it is almost empowering. I offer her a genuine smile. “Thank you, Isobel. That means a lot.”

“Anytime, Stella.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Now, let me give you some advice: Confidence is key. Don’t let these men push you around.”

I nod, taking her words to heart. With renewed determination, I return to the bar, retrieve the drinks, and head back to the table where the portly man waits.

“Here are your drinks, sir,” I announce, placing the tray down with steady hands.

“Ah, thank you, my dear,” he says, his eyes lingering on me a moment too long.

I let him stare all he wants because, frankly, he’s a good tipper. Besides, that’s what I’m here for…for men to look at.

As the hours pass, I’m surprised to find myself growing used to their stares and comments, even flirting back if it means I’ll get bigger tips.

The men here are loaded, and maybe I’m milking it…

Whatever it takes, right?