Chapter 10: Breaking In

The Velvet Lounge pulsed like a living thing on Saturday night, bass crawling up through the sticky floorboards and settling heavy between Sarah’s thighs. She wove between packed tables in the shredded scrap of her old navy power skirt, the expensive fabric now hacked so short the frayed hem rode the lower curve of her ass with every step. The tiny halter top clung damp to her full breasts, nipples already stiff and visible against the thin black material. Her black leather collar sat snug at her throat, the silver letters “Former Boss Bitch” catching stray flashes of red light each time she bent low to serve another round of whiskey.

She was deep into her shift, body moving on pure instinct now. The old Sarah—the woman who once closed million-dollar deals with a single razor glance—was nothing more than a faint, distant memory. This Sarah giggled when customers snapped their fingers, pressed her thighs together at the low throb of constant want, and answered every order with a breathy “Yes, sir” that sent fresh slickness soaking into her thong.

At table seven a regular crooked a finger. She set the drinks down, then sank into a quick tease on the small floor pole bolted beside his chair. One long leg hooked high, she spun slow, the micro-skirt flaring to bare the smooth cheeks of her ass and the black thong already darkened at the crotch. She dropped into a squat, thighs flexing, and twerked sharp and filthy, the clap of flesh loud enough to draw eyes from three tables away. Then she slid to the floor on all fours, crawled between his spread knees, and ground her soaked mound against the toe of his shoe. The polished leather dragged perfectly over her swollen clit through the thin fabric. She rolled her hips in tight, needy circles, breath hitching into soft little keens.

“Please, sir ... your little bitch needs the tip so bad,” she whispered, voice husky and sweet, eyes fluttering up at him. He tucked a fifty into the side of her thong, fingers brushing the drenched heat of her pussy lips. The contact made her clench hard, a fresh trickle of arousal sliding down her inner thigh. She rose on shaky heels, gave him a playful wink, and moved on, the torn corporate remnant whispering against her skin like a constant reminder of exactly who she used to be.