Chapter 2 - Nik's Love Life Blossoms and Life as a Bouncer

“Fuck, this is going to be annoying all week,” Nik cursed, peeling the bandages from his torso.
 
Blood glued the soft material to the sliced wound. Pulling on the bandage stung, causing him to suck in air. Next to the dresser in the back of the host club, the Chinese doctor left a fresh set of supplies to fix up the wound, solo.
 
Tonight, Nik wasn’t expected to be a host. Instead, his duty patrolled an invisible line at the doorway. Act like a rough and tough ‘Murican. The club sat nestled in a seedier part of the city, stuck in a maze of backstreets, filled with shops, strip joints, and restaurants. A typical Japanese red light district. The pay doubled. He had student loans, so any extra dollar to get out from the guillotine of debt was heartily thanked.
 
“Nik-san…Go…” a Japanese man called from the doorway, holding up five fingers.
 
Nik nodded. Time was short, so he bandaged up to prevent any blood seeping through. He hoped it’d be an easy night. Card the girls. Stop any drunks from getting in. Easy job the boss said. Who would cause shit with a gaijin built like a tank? The boss also told him not knowing Japanese was an asset. The girls wouldn’t be able to charm him into getting in.
 
The first shift went by without incident. Hosts came to work their shift, and the few early bird regulars dropped inside to get fresh service. A couple lewd sounding comments here and there was the hottest action Nik got.
 
The tuxedo hugged his frame majestically. Coupled with the chiseled, square jaw, he cut a striking figure. Give the man a Walter PPK and he’d be a natural striking the Bond pose.
 
“Nik-san…car…help…” the manager said, pointing to a truck that pulled up in front of the club.
 
In the back were cases of booze and liquor. Doorman to deliveryman. For the paycheck, he wasn’t going to complain. A dozen cases later, and the truck still remained half full. A small line formed at the doorway, with the second doorman holding a clipboard.
 
Despite the seedy location, surrounded by small restaurants and shops, the club had a reputation, he was told, for being a breeding ground for up and coming hosts. Some women wanted to spend their money on fresh meat, and get the glory of being with a host before he shot to the big time.
 
Inside, putting away a couple cases of beer, he saw the tables full to capacity. Champagne on tap. Soft music in the background. People having a good time in a party atmosphere.
 
“Door…” the manager told him again.
 
Despite the limited vocabulary, Nik was appreciative. The job didn’t require complex explanations to do the job properly.
 
The man on duty handed off the clipboard. All the names were written in kanji and romaji. The moment the Japanese doorman walked off for a break, an older woman tried to walk past Nik.
 
“Matte,” he told her, blocking the path. “Name?”
 
She told him a name but it wasn’t on the list. He pointed to the clipboard and shook his head before pointing to the end of the line. Still, the woman persisted, speaking harshly in Japanese. He didn’t know what she said, but he could hear others in the line murmuring.
 
Nik put his arms in an X shape. The universal signal for no. The woman got louder, making a scene. Nik didn’t know who she was, but from the quick to sour tone, she either was mega rich or mega entitled.
 
“End of the line,” he said, calmly, pointing.
 
This time she pulled out a cell, calling someone immediately. Within a minute the manager arrived.
 
“No name,” Nik said, showing the clipboard.
 
The manager bowed to the woman. Nik guessed he was apologizing for the confusion, as he welcomed her inside without delay. The moment the woman left eye sight, the manager wrote the name on the list and handed it back.
 
“Fixed”
 
The young foreigner could only hold in the annoyance. Why should he get shouted at in an alien language because of her own mistake? The second doorman came off his break, smoothing out the language barrier with the awaiting cliental.
 
It wasn’t the biggest of incidents, and in the grand scheme of things pretty minor, but he now felt working as a doorman a bigger chore than as a host. Being a doorman felt a lot like teaching. A quasi-middle management position, where all the man management was on your head but also all the blame. You’re expected to be always right without praise, unless it is the customers fault, in which case you get all the grief and blame.
 
The next couple hours ticked away smoothly. Nothing of note happened but womanly giggling and a stealthy pinch of his ass. The line petered out the earlier in the morning it got. The woman from previously in the night, drunk off her rocker, stumbled out like a drunken frat boy. Whatever she rambled on about, it was loud enough to wake the dead.
 
Nik tried to ignore her, but her eyes caught his. A jolly drunk one-eightied into an angry drunk, berating the young man unintelligently.
 
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t understand. Nihongo wakarimasen.”
 
Rule number one: the customer is king…or queen in this case. Pushing a finger roughly into his chest, he stood there and took it. No eye rolling, no cursing or an unhappy grimace. Just a pleasant smile and a steel will to remain professional in front of such insolence and disrespect.
 
The other doorman scurried off, and quickly the manager popped out again to deal with the situation. He acted the same as Nik, bowing and smiling even when the berating turned to him. It took ten minutes to calm the woman down, and see her to a taxi.
 
“You…good…” the manager said to Nik.
 
The portly fellow slapped Nik on the shoulder. Nik nodded. It was an unexpected test, one that got passed with flying colors. Nik sighed, happy the manager was the type to see through bullshit a customer spewed. Still, it didn’t change his mind that working the door sucked. One bad customer can ruin the night.
 
Inside the locker room, Nik changed out of the loaner and back into civilian gear. An envelope rested inside his locker. Bold, finely handwritten letters graced the front, saying his name.
 
“Why did the money have to be so good?”
 
Before exiting the club, he stopped by the manager’s office. In broken Japanese, Nik thanked the man for the work, bowed, and left for the night. Outside in the cool, morning air, he immediately took out a cellphone. The sun began rising in the distance. The darkness evaporated, revealing the aftermath of the debased. 
 
“Hey, babe, I’m done the shift. Sleep on my shoulder while I get breakfast at the ramen shop near your place.”
 
“It is six am. Call me when you get here, okay?”
 
“Yeah, only twenty minutes away.”
 
Silence answered. Leaning up against the club wall, he heard a loud yawn, finally.
 
“I forgot you’re in a club that close to me. Sorry, baby. I’ll meet you at the usual spot.”
 
“See you soon, Anri.”
 
All the tiredness in his bones filtered away, and the shitty customer ruining the night became an afterthought.
 
“Good start to the weekend,” he said with joy, beaming.

X
 
Nik held Anri in his strong arms, holding her tiny body aloft in the air. Luscious, creamy legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Lips sucked each other loud and lewd. Every day and night, the pair fucked like rabbits. If it wasn’t in one of their apartments, it was in the dressing room at a photoshoot or even in the dirty, public toilet of a park.
 
“Fuck, I needed this,” he grunted, giving her ass a firm smack.
 
“Don’t go gentle this time. I don’t feel sore anymore.”
 
His cock nestled up against the dripping, drooling doorway. It was lubed up so much, he probably could stick a hand in there if she were that kind of kinko. But his cock would do the trick. It always did.
 
“I need it too, baby. I want another good fucking. Can you flip me upside down?” she asked.
 
“Don’t want to pop the stitches, Anri. Once they’re healed.”
 
He carried her over to the wall, using it to hold her mid-air. With ease, he hooked her legs to put that fabled Asian flexibility to the test. Nothing in the way from pushing in as deep as he wanted. The more Nik would push inside, the more she’d cry in pleasure. Those sweet, sexy, Japanese porno moans kept that beast awake and eager to test which would run out of steam first.
 
Their lips sucked each other off again, but out of reflex she bit him the moment he speared inside. Nik bit back, reciprocating the masochistic pleasure. The other benefit from fucking so much was their bodies were fully scouted. No marks in a visible area that would ruin a potential photo shoot. Every mark or bite in a sensual area for their eyes only. With Anri completing a swimsuit calendar a week ago, creativity got put to the test.
 
“Deeper, Nik, fuck me deeper. Push it in as hard as you can. I want to feel full. I want to feel you all inside me.”
 
“I’ll break you if I do that,” he grunted, nestling his head in her shoulder.
 
“Do it, baby. I want it all. Your side job makes me jealous. I want to know I’m the only one for you.”
 
“You are, Anri. You’re the only one for me.”
 
Each inch was a battle. A test of will. A test of fortitude and determination. All the pussy drool couldn’t defeat reality though. Her body lacked the length to handle a cock that size, without leaving some shaft all lonely and needy.
 
“You’re full. Can’t push anymore into you.”
 
“Then hold me like this. I’m so close to cumming. Feels so good,” she gasped out.
 
Nik could feel the orgasm coming. Her cunt gripped tightly, trying to milk him without even any forward motion.
 
“Fuck, I’m going to cum. Feels like heaven, baby,” she cried, shaking.
 
Her body shook and spasmed, shaking like a rag doll from the intense orgasm flooding each muscle. Heels dug into his back and ass, trying to push even a millimeter more inside. Heaven called her name.
 
Minutes later, they held each other tightly on the floor bedding. Nik stroked her hair gently, softly, and Anri nestled her face lovingly into his muscular chest. Cum leaked out of her gaped cunt. The bedding soaked up the precious liquid.
 
“I don’t want these moments to end, Anri,” he commented. “It has been a whirlwind romance but I don’t want it to stop.”
 
“Isn’t the girl supposed to be the love-struck and clingy romantic, Nik?” she giggled, reaching up to stroke his jawline.
 
“I guess I’m a romantic at heart. I see what I want and I take it. I don’t want to risk someone else getting it.”
 
“Spoken like a real man,” she kept giggling. “Your contract isn’t up yet for a while, and you can always renew, right?”
 
“Yeah, I can. Should be able to. My co-workers seem to like me. Just can’t get into shit with my side job.”
 
“Could always quit it, baby. Student loans that bad?”
 
“I survive, but I want to do more than survive. I want a legacy.”
 
“Legacy?” she questioned, confusion on her face.
 
“Yeah, a legacy. Teaching is good and fine. I think I’ll be good at it, but I want more. I want to be remembered. I want to come home to a beautiful wife, and without a care in the world.”
 
He kept stroking her hair softly, staring up at the ceiling in her apartment. It wasn’t any bigger than his. Change of pace dictated picking here after the date.
 
“I don’t know. Maybe it is the atmosphere in the clubs. I’ve only been there a couple times but having a name gets you so much more in life. Rules don’t apply. There was this one customer who screwed her booking up, but she was some kind of big shot. Manager let her straight in, no argument, no care about the other clients waiting in line. I get a shitty attitude and guff for doing my job properly.”
 
“Just become a model…or a pornstar,” she joked, running a finger over his swollen shaft.
 
“If I became a pornstar you’d knife me in my sleep,” Nik laughed, hugging Anri closer. “I could never cheat on you. It’d feel wrong fucking other women if we’re serious about each other.”
 
“If only all the girls were as lucky as me,” she swooned.
 
The pair laughed at the other’s jokes. A couple months, and they were lit like fireworks. Something inside of them clicked. A simple smile brightened the other’s day. A good morning text created a beaming aura. Was it true love? They didn’t know, but they were putting the lovemobile through its paces.
 
“Boss wants me at a different club. Don’t know why he keeps shifting me around. My Japanese sucks. Guess a foreigner adds a mystique to the place.”
 
“He probably thinks a handsome stud of a man will bring in more traffic. Some of those girls have to wait in line a long time, and the muscle isn’t usually as good looking.”
 
“Yeah, that could be it. I’m just worried that the locations will keep getting shittier. Might have to drop out at some point if it gets too dangerous.”
 
“Where did he say the next gig was?” she asked, snuggling up more.
 
“Some dive in the same area. Moonlight Retreat he called it. Hear of it?”
 
“Don’t know much about host clubs. Might be good. Might be bad. Usually my circle of friends talk about the awesome clubs or the shitty ones. Just walk if it looks like a bad situation.”
 
“My thoughts exactly.”
 
“Nik?” she asked tentatively.
 
“Yeah, babe?”
 
“Can you…slap me?”
 
“What?”
 
“I want you to slap me when we fuck again. I want to try it out. But not too hard. A tap.”
 
“You sure? That is a different level of kink.”
 
“I feel this need in my stomach when I’m with you. It can be so much more.”
 
Nik thought it over for a minute. He never got more aggressive than some ass slaps or some light hair pulling. Face slapping her required a special level of trust.
 
“Okay. But don’t lie to me. If it hurts, I’ll stop.”
 
“Thanks. I feel safe with you to try it out. I feel special when we’re together. Wait, I got a gift for you.”
 
“A gift? My birthday isn’t for a few months yet,” he replied, surprised.
 
“Silly, I know.”
 
She stuck her tongue out at him before walking off, naked, to the closet. She came back with a large box, wrapped up with a lot of care.
 
“Open it,” she said, earnestly. “I know you’ll like it. Special made.”
 
“I love surprises. Wonder what it can be…” he commented, carefully unwrapping it. “It is light. Hmm, let me take a peak.”
 
Playfully, he flipped the top of the lid to sneak a peek.
 
“Cool, seriously?” he exclaimed, happily surprised. “This must have been expensive.”
 
Taking off the top revealed a stylish, and expensive looking, kimono.
 
“This isn’t a joke?” he asked.
 
“No, I was talking to the wardrobe lady at a gig. She mentioned sometimes they fall out of the trunk.”
 
“Fall off the truck,” he corrected her.
 
“Fall off the truck. So don’t worry. I hope you’re not angry that it was cheap.”
 
“Free? Best price in the world. This looks awesome. I’ve always wanted one.”
 
Nik stood up, holding the kimono in front of him.
 
“I remembered you mentioned it when we visited the castle museum. Don’t put it on now. I want you to wear it for me the next time I come over. Is that alright? I want it to be special between us.”
 
He nodded. A smile stretched from cheek to cheek, happy because of the wonderful gift. 
 
“Do you have one?” Nik asked.
 
“Yeah, I got one too,” Anri replied.
 
“I want you to bring yours over and leave it at my place. We can wear them together. Make it extra special.”
 
“Kawaii. That’d be cute. Okay!”
 
“You know you look extra cute when you put on your accent,” Nik laughed.
 
“Its cause I know you perfectly,” she winked. “So, Nik, still have energy?” she asked playfully, kneeling next to him.
 
“Full batteries, babe.”
 
Dominant fingers reached over and stroked the cum soaked pussy. A soft moan elicited from her mouth. Anri’s own hands molested the large, perky orbs that stuck out proudly.
 
“Push a finger in, please. I’m a needy bitch. How did you make me like this?” she cooed.
 
“Natural chemistry, babe. Your pussy feels like we’ve been making love for years. I can see the pleasure on your face as I slide my finger along the outer edges.”
 
“Don’t tease me,” she replied, sucking in air from a mini-orgasm. “Don’t be so mean and fuck me.”
 
“You want it all in you again?”
 
“Yes, please.”
 
SMACK!
 
Nik slapped Anri. Time stopped for a moment. It was the first time he slapped a woman across the face sexually. He expected her to scream out, run, or cry. Instead, to his surprise, she spoke.
 
“Again.”
 
Instinct.
 
“Again, what?” he told her.
 
“Slap me again, please.”
 
SMACK!
 
“Thank you, baby. It feels so good. Again, please.”
 
SMACK!
 
Nik kept them light for a second reason. Evidence. Like the love marks, he wanted her face and complexion clean for the cameras. Losing work wasn’t fun, and her showing up bruised would elicit awkward questions.
 
“You want another slap, Anri?”
 
“Yes, more, please. Don’t stop. My pussy is on fire.”
 
SMACK!
 
“Now you’ve got to earn the next one.”
 
“What?” Anri asked, surprised.
 
“Break the record and I’ll keep slapping you all night.”
 
Anri bit her lip, shyly. Oral wasn’t her strong suit. But being told what to do came naturally. Nestling between two tree trunk legs, lips parted and engulfed the massive white rod of power. No foreplay or sucky sucky. Straight down to the throat it went. All business. But it ended quickly. The gag reflex kicked in and Anri coughed the cock out.
 
“I’m…cough…sorry, Nik. You’re too big.”
 
Nik shook his head and stood up.
 
“You trust me?” he asked, holding his cock by the base.
 
She nodded.
 
“Grab my ass cheeks. Pinch me if you’re in trouble.”
 
Taking some hair, he held it firmly and pushed her face down his cock. He kept pushing, even when the gag reflex crept in again. No pinch. Safe to keep going. Centimeter by centimeter, and millimeter by millimeter, the cock slid in further. If Anri wanted him to dominate her, to control her, he’d go the whole way.
 
“Relax your throat. I’m not going to stop until we’ve broken the record, even by a millimeter,” he told her.
 
No hesitation. No contemplation. Just action. Submissive eyes looked up at him for guidance, trusting each movement. Gagging noises grew louder, and Anri’s eyes blinkered wildly.
 
“Good girl, just a little more. You’re doing so well. Don’t you want another slap?”
 
She gargled out what sounded like a yes. Slop and drool lathered up the sexual organ. Spit shined to the maximum.
 
“Fuck, babe, you make my cock hard. I ignore all the girls at the clubs. My cock only has its heart on you.”
 
Sweet words, despite the depravity. Loud gargling and spurting made drool hit the bedding.
 
“You know we’re going to be sleeping in those sheets?” he said.
 
With so much cock down her throat, answering coherently was impossible. Sucking down another centimeter to reach the goal consumed her spirit.
 
“Kiss my finger.”
 
Feminine instinct. The need to please. Summoning the last ounce of courage to push forward, Anri thrust her mouth hard, letting ruby lips slightly caress Nik’s finger. The hand let go of her head. Recoiling, she coughed with each giant suck of air.
 
“Good girl. This is what you want, isn’t it?” Nik asked.
 
“Yes…cough…I want…cough…to be your good…cough…girl…”
 
SMACK!
 
No time to react, another slap hit Anri square on the cheek. Even through the pain of choking for a minute, that honey pot between her legs triggered in harmonious pleasure.
 
“Again, Nik, please. Slap around your good girl.”
 
The rest of the morning, until they feel asleep in each other’s arms, they pushed their boundaries and limits. For Nik, it became a personal turning point. Someone trusted him in a sensitive and personal manner. The outside world does not want to understand, or care, about an individual’s sexual desires. She is trusting him to not think her a freak for orgasming to physical assault. In turn, he now is trusting her to not call the cops and label him a domestic abuser.
 
X
 
Ring Ring…Ring Ring…Ring Ring…
 
“Hello?” Nik answered, tried.
 
“Is this Nik Knight?” a sharp, Japanese voice asked.
 
“Yeah, hi, who is calling?”
 
“Apologies for the early morning wakeup. I understand you worked until the early hours of the morning. My name is Musashi Yamato. I’m calling on behalf of the manager you worked for last night. We have a new job for you we’d like you to try out.”
 
“Different club?”
 
“Yes. It is hard to find good foreign workers. We’d like you to work the door of another club. Higher pay, but the clients are…rougher. Not as affluent.”
 
“So I’m supposed to be muscle?”
 
“Ha, maybe. The manager told me you kept your cool in a heated situation. The words out of the woman’s mouth were most unladylike.”
 
“I don’t understand Japanese. Hard to get mad at something I don’t understand.”
 
“True. Still, if you’re interested, drop by the address I text you. A yes or no would be appreciated, either way.”
 
“One question, Mr. Yamato.”
 
“Yes?”
 
“Why me? In-shape gaijin can’t be that unique in Japan.”
 
“Ha, well, I can answer that easy enough. Your ads on the trains. Brings in customers, even if you’re a doorman.”
 
“Okay. Thank you. Please text me the pay as well, and I’ll let you know if it doesn’t conflict with other business I have, sir.”
 
“Very well. I look forward to working with you.”
 
Click!
 
“Work?” Anri slurred out.
 
“Yeah. Go back to sleep, babe,” he replied, kissing her forehead.
 
Looking down upon her, he smiled. So innocent. Only half an hour ago she acted like a succubus, but now rested upon the pillow like an innocent princess.
 
X
 
A week of schooling passed without incident. Subway to school, teach, sit-in on unintelligible faculty meetings, go home, lather, rinse, repeat. Anri, however, turned into a temptress. A siren singing a song of serenity to a wandering sailor. The gym was located a subway stop away from home. While lifting weights, his phone would vibrate on repeat. Anri blew it up with dirty messages and ideas she wanted to try out next. She led the kink charge, and Nik was aboard for the ride.
 
Friday night. The new club nestled itself away inside an even dirtier and grungier corner of the red light district. The only reason Nik didn’t turn around and forget the entire operation was because it was Japan. The country boasted a high safety rating, especially for foreigners. Who was going to pick a fight with him? It’d be silly to start shit with a foreigner, especially one who couldn’t speak the language.
 
“Rising Sun…Live Jazz…Open 24/7…Huh, no wonder they need the help.”
 
No one stood outside. Was this a host club?
 
Opening the door, soft jazz music escaped into the quiet street. Just like the club from last weekend, small-time restaurants and shops surrounded the area. A small man stood near a podium off to the side of the doorway.
 
“Hi, is Mr. Yamato in?” Nik asked the doorman.
 
“Yamato-san…” The man pointed to a room. Nik assumed it said ‘manager’, or the like, in kanji above the door.
 
“Domo,” he replied, walking towards the room.
 
The small club had a dozen tables and a few booths. Nothing too exciting. A man stood on the stage, playing a tune on a sax. A bar ran against the wall leading to the office. A couple souls sat there, sipping their liquor while enchanted by the solo.
 
Knocking on the office door got an immediate answer.
 
“Hi, Mr. Yamato?” Nik asked, walking inside.
 
“You must be Nik. Welcome,” he replied, sitting behind a desk. “Welcome to my little slice of paradise.”
 
“Not a problem. Doesn’t look like you need a lot of muscle though. Seems like the peaceful type of joint.”
 
“It is, it is,” he answered, standing up.
 
Musashi stood tall as Nik, and a match in physique. A toothy grin broke the intimidation that a scar across his eye caused. Judging by the pin-striped suit and fedora, Nik took him for a Yakuza thinking it was the 20s and 30s.
 
“Work the door, check people on a list, and make sure the drunks don’t cause a problem, right?” Nik said, confidently.
 
“You catch on fast. Grab the tux from the locker and you’ll be on the clock.”
 
“I’ve got to ask,” Nik said, opening the lone locker in the office. “How’d you get so good at English? I don’t hear an accent.”
 
“Grew up in the States with my family before moving here for university.”
 
“Makes sense. Sorry for butting in.”
 
The apology got a hearty laugh back.
 
“The scar and outfit scare the piss out of my workers, it is good to have a man with balls around.”
 
Nik nodded, taking the tux out of the locker.
 
“How do you guys keep finding a tux my size?” he asked.
 
“Your agent. He has your sizing on hand.”
 
“Sounds like your organization has everything figured out.”
 
“We try to run a smooth ship,” Musashi commented. “Relive the doorman so he can take his break. You’ll be working there all shift. I made sure to write the names in romaji.”
 
“The place is going to get that packed?” Nik asked.
 
“We’re a popular joint. Looks can be deceiving.”
 
“Sure, you’re right about that,” Nik replied.
 
Suited up, he bowed and then went off to work his shift. In the back of his head, there was a nagging feeling more than met the eye. If it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, it was a duck. The guy screamed Yakuza, retro Italian mafia attire aside.
 
“They have rules. You’re a civilian. Just a gaijin helper at the door. No reason to bust your skull if any problems occurred,” Nik thought to himself.
 
At least this spot allowed him to sit while on duty. A customer would walk in every fifteen or twenty minutes, but none would leave. The place was popular, in the sense no one left once entering. Cool jazz music filled the air. The solo sax guy turned into a female singer and then turned into a full band. They seemed to all be together, yet each had their own separate style.
 
Three burly gentlemen sauntered in past midnight. Dressed in fine suits, it didn’t belay the rugged machismo radiating from them.
 
“Three?” Nik asked, holding up three fingers.
 
The smaller of the trio laughed, saying something in Japanese to his compatriots. More fake courage. Nik just smiled, asking again. The leader put up three fingers. Slightly bowing, Nik led them off to one of the empty booths. 
 
“Enjoy the night, sirs,” he said, before bowing and walking back to the front.
 
“Great,” he thought, “more gangsters. Definitely a Yakuza joint you got yourself wrapped into now. Fuck.”
 
The front of the club remained calm and peaceful for the rest of the night. No customers with a stick up their ass to get in his face. Normal customers, looking more like jazz connoisseurs or couples on a date.
 
In the office, after closing, Musashi looked happy. A bright smile illuminated the room.
 
“Great job. Not a single problem all night. Customers left happy.”
 
Nik didn’t look surprised. It seemed to him like a normal, uneventful, standard night.
 
“Okay. Great. I don’t feel bad for how much you’re paying me.”
 
Musashi clapped his hands.
 
“Money well spent.”
 
Nik’s mind raced a mile a minute, perplexed at the situation. It felt weird. The money on tap wasn’t normal for a doorman, couldn’t be.
 
“Are you going to call me back here again or am I going to a different location?”
 
“I’d like you to work here again next week, same time.”
 
“If every Friday is like tonight, easy money. Can’t turn it down,” he said, cheerfully.
 
He tried not to show concern that the situation weirded him out. Still, any extra cash to get rid of student loans couldn’t be overlooked.
 
“I’ll pencil you in. Keep up the good work.”
 
Leaving the club, Nik sighed. In his pocket rested another ornate envelope, full of cash. Cold, hard cash. Thoughts of the situation went through his head on the way home. Was it really his modeling career earning the salary bump? Was something shady going on that he was oblivious to? Was he unknowingly digging a deeper hole without knowing it?
 
The entire trip home, all those thoughts and more raced around. That is, until he opened the apartment door.
 
“Welcome home, Master,” Anri cooed.
 
She knelt down in front of the door. Hair done up in a traditional geisha style. Her own, unique kimono beautifully gracing her gorgeous physique. Painstakingly applied makeup finished off the supermodel look. A traditional woman welcoming home her lord and master. Nik couldn’t help but smile as the door swung shut.