Serafina

What the fuck was Enzo doing here? I'd come into work expecting the usual—a night of delivering drinks to the girls and their clients while dodging anyone who got too grabby. Most of the men who frequented the club tended to blur the line of who was for sale and who wasn't. When I first started, I was told it came with the job and to figure out a way to deal with it. Of course, the outfits they put us in didn't help matters. But it was what it was. So I would smile, dodge hands, collect my tips, ignore my aching feet in these fucking heels, and...