Page 8 of Surrender

Benji, or Ben for short, is a half-Filipino gay bartender with gaged ears, black hair and a too-cool-for-school vibe. But instantly, I feel like besties. He shows me the basics, where things are, what the rules are, etc. There's not much to taking orders, giving them to him, and then ferrying drinks back to the tables, but Ben has a way of explaining things to me simply, without making me feel dumb. My ADHD and anxiety are already sky high. If I don't get this right, I'll let Madame, Daniel and Declan down. I might lose this job, and Declan may decide I'm not worth the effort and turn me out in the street.

I used Madame's phone to call Alex at the cafe and quit. I hated not giving her notice, but she understood. When my mom and stepdad can't find me, the Cafe will be the second place they look after Ella's house. Alex also assured me that I would always have a place with her if I ever came back. She didn't say it outright, but I felt like she knew her cutting my hours was what caused all of the drama. It's not her fault, though.

After Ben walks me through the basics, he spends the first two hours of our shift filling me in on all the gossip and storiesbehind the people showing up. Men and women dressed in black tie and elegant dresses filter in in singles and in groups.

An energetic young woman with a her hair in a pixie cut and a blue streak in it named Mindy, and I split the room, while Ben manages one bar and a man named Josh manages the other. Madame gave me black polo with the company logo on the chest, letting the guests know that I am staff and not to be touched.

The crowd is light at first. I suppose people don't go looking for kink before nine? Serving is easy work and it keeps me busy enough that my mind doesn't spiral into unhealthy thoughts. Just before eleven, the angry man from before, Declan, and the kind man, Daniel, sit at a table in my area with an equally handsome man. But this new one is huge. He must be six foot six. This man is more intimidating than the other two. The other two look like they work out in the gym, but they're definitely office-types. The third man looks like he lifts small cars on the daily. The fabric of his tailored suit would scream if it had a voice, with how tightly it's stretched across his biceps.

I pick up my pad of paper and approach them to take their orders. Even though three drinks shouldn't be difficult, I write down the drinks in a circle, where the person is sitting at the table. It help keep me from anxiously second-guessing everything the minute they order.

"Gentlemen," I say with a shy smile. "Can I take your orders?"

"You need a pen and paper for three drink orders?" Declan mutters. The familiar sense of shame and embarrassment wash over me and I close my eyes. I'd been made fun of at school my entire life. I struggled to pay attention, to form any real friendships, to be understood. I would interrupt people talking because I had already guessed the end of their story. Or my brain would jump three trains of thought ahead and I'd add something that seemed irrelevant to the conversation. It wouldmake people feel like I wasn't paying attention to them or didn't care about what they were saying at all.

A story about a birthday party from the prior weekend would remind me of my aunt Delilah who was born on February 29th and only ever had like fifteen birthdays in her sixty years because she was a leap year baby; which would remind me that according to tradition, it's acceptable for a woman to propose to a man on February 29th. The custom was said to have come from St. Bridget, who complained to St. Patrick that women had to wait too long for their beaus to propose.

So a friend telling me about her birthday party ended up with me asking if St. Bridget was a real person or not.

Which led to a lot of confused looks.

I learned quickly just to keep quiet and keep to myself. But it never took long for people to realize I am different.

I try to brush off the insult. These are my new bosses. I can't afford to piss them off.

"I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, and," I give what I hope is an unaffected shrug. "Better safe than sorry?"

Daniel elbows Declan in the ribs, chastising him.

Declan tries again. "Your eye looks better."

I can't hide the wince before it comes.

"Three Macalans on the rocks," Daniel says, and I have a suspicion he's made the order simple for my sake. Another thing I hate.

"Yes, sirs," I say before turning on my heel and rushing away. Even with my back turned, I can feel their gazes on me.

I rush to the bar before slapping my hands against it and hanging my head, trying to catch my breath. "Girl, I don't know what you did to those men, but they look hungry enough to eat you," Ben says. I let out a tired laugh.

"Or fire me. I'm screwing up so much and it's only my first day. I can't afford to lose this job," I say, staring Ben in the eyes,hoping he can see my desperation. My muscles are twitching with nerves, my breaths coming quick and choppy, and my eyes are misting up. He places a hand over mine.

"You won't, Serenity. I promise. But I think you need to know something about those three." He proceeds to pour their orders.

"That's Declan, Harrison and Daniel. CEO, CFO and COO of The Envelope, respectively. They started this because they're all doms. Your shy girl-from-next-door, and 'yes sirs' is like catnip to their dicks."

"Oh my God! Ben! Please don't talk about their dicks!"

He laughs at me. "Oh, honey. I'd be surprised if you don't see at least one of them before the night is over." My face flushes red and heats. I'm not cut out for this. How can I see someone's dick - or someone having sex - and look them in the eye ever again?

Ben waves a hand dismissively. "You get used to it. I've seen so much dick it almost makes playing with my own a little boring now."

"Ben. Honey." He looks up at me, worried. "Please don't talk about dicks anymore? I'm still new and so out of my comfort zone."

"Surely, you've seen a dick before?"

I place the drinks on my tray, not making eye contact. The silence is answer enough.

"Ser, are you a virgin?" he whispers, ensuring no one is around us. I narrow my eyes at him and pinch my lips together. My silence is my answer.

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