I asked what he meant, and he replied, “Kid, you got the look down cold. You’re in shape, but not overly toned. I can tell you have a great ass. You have just enough baby fat to make the tops drool over you. You have a bright and honest smile. You’re a blonde, which is always cute. Plus if you play your cards right and never actually say whether you’re straight or gay, you’re bound to have guys wanting to find out for themselves.”
He laughed at my dubious expression, and added, “The look on your face is priceless, kid. The back area is strictly for customers to play with each other. No employees are expected to go back there while they’re working. In fact, no employees are allowed back there for personal reasons while they’re working. If we have a private party here, then that’s different. Don’t worry, kid, John and his guys never let any of you twinks out of their sight. So just smile and play along with the comments, and flirting and you’ll make plenty of tips.”
I nodded as I considered what he had said and seeing how I really needed the job, I said that I would be back that night. Over the next month, I settled in fine. I learned the drinks and was allowed to work without a chaperone after three nights. I was getting along with my coworkers. I was actually enjoying the atmosphere, since I wasn’t trying to pick up anyone I could just have a good time. I was able to deal with the constant pick-up lines and flirting by customers with a warm smile and an added joke to keep them coming back. The schedule was perfect for me with college. The pay and tips even allowed me to get a much better apartment in a nice part of town that I hadn’t even considered before. Mark had even suggested that I could be one of the elevated-cage dancers if I wanted to try it out. He said that I wasn’t big or cute enough for the main stage, but that I could easily be one of the other dancers (who were usually dressed in skimpy latex outfits). Since I was making the same bartending, I declined saying that I was probably better at serving drinks.
After two weeks I began listening to the other bartenders and dancers about how to dress and act. I started wearing tighter pants, tighter shirts, button-up shirts that weren’t even buttoned, and even tight short shorts. It was so easy for me that after a few days, it became second nature for me to make gay jokes and flirt right along with everyone else. The employees were great and we always ate together on Friday and Saturday nights before work. Mark always paid for a big spread of food for the employees, considering we would be killing ourselves on the busiest nights.
I hadn’t even realized that I was so comfortable with everyone until I fired back at John after one of his salacious comments about me, causing everyone to howl with laughter. John then picked me up, slung me over his shoulder, slapped my ass, and began heading to the “Fun House” as he announced, “I’ll be back in 30 minutes, but he’ll need longer to recover.”
We all continued to laugh and carry on, after he made a U-turn, walked back to my seat, and plopped me back down, as he warned jokingly, “Next time I take that ass for a test drive, Alex.”
I fired back, “Yeah? Well, I guess someone has to be my first.”
This caused a roar of laughter, pats on my back, approving replies from the bottoms, and several volunteers from the most other tops to be my first. Everything about working at the club was great. I hadn’t even been too put at being single for so long. I was so concentrated on school and work that I hadn’t even thought about dating. I got along with everyone and even swapped horrible exes and bad relationship stories with them. I always made it a point of gender-swapping my exes into males whenever there were customers nearby. The other employees thought this was hilarious. I was actually surprised about how much my life had changed since I started working here. My grades had improved, since I wasn’t always worried about losing my girlfriend if we didn’t go out. I had practically stopped drinking and focused on staying fit and looking my best. It surprised me how little I drank now that I was working as a bartender. I guess seeing how much some people drank made me not want to drink as much.
I was so relaxed about everything that even walking in on customers’ sex acts in the bathrooms or employee sex acts in the back area didn’t phase me anymore. As a joke, I had even carried on a lengthy conversation with the lead bartender, Anthony, as his boyfriend sucked him off in the back. Anthony loved telling people that story. I got the feeling that the other employees had begun inviting their boyfriends to the club just to get involved in a sex act where I might see. The employees who were dating other employees joined in too. Having to ask two exotic dancers to move one foot to their right or left so I could get into my locker as one ass-fucked the other was an interesting situation, but they had been smiling and joking about it that I had guessed they were just messing with me.
I was even looking forward to the extra money I would make at the upcoming private party. The party was actually themed as a Roman orgy. The parties were always scheduled at least a month in advance and to get in everyone had to present a recent negative STD blood test at the door. Also to get into this party you had to be in some form of ancient Roman costume: gladiator, legionnaire, toga, slave, etc. While on normal nights no sexual acts were allowed anywhere but in the “Fun House.” On this night, everywhere was open to play.
I chose a slave costume consisting of a cut-up white bedsheet wrapped around me to resemble underwear and a slave collar with a chain leash. When employees saw me, they all loved it and threatened to pull my sheet away at a random opportunity. John and the other bouncers were the only ones not in costume. The other bartenders were likewise scantily clad. As the party got started, I laughed, played around, and joked with the other bartenders and customers as things got started. I figured things wouldn’t start heating up until 10 pm at least. No one wanted to tire themselves out before the all-out orgy started.
One great thing about working here was how clean everyone was and how much people cleaned up after themselves. The first time I helped Tim, another bartender, clean up the “Fun House,” I had expected to find cum on every surface and used condoms strewn everywhere. But there was nothing! We just emptied the trash bags, wiped down the couches with wet wipes (though I never saw any stains), and pushed a broom across the floor (that picked up nothing busy dust). When I commented on this, Tim had laughed and said that gay guys aren’t usually slobs or disgusting. Most take a lot of pride in their own appearance and general hygiene. These guys know that if they act nasty or otherwise turn off a guy they’re interested in, that guy could literally turn around and find a replacement who isn’t a slob. I nodded at this and admitted that I had begun to groom myself more to keep up with the rest of them, so as to keep my good tips coming.
Confessions of a Straight Guy at a Gay Club | LGBTQ+ Tale of Intrigue
As the night kicked off, it got pretty wild. I saw things that I had never expected to ever read about, let alone see. Though the employee still didn’t get involved in the actual sex acts, we would cheer the customers on and offer encouragement and suggestions. All in all, I had a great time with the other bartenders and even started a line when we let customers pay to take shots out of our belly buttons. Mark gave all three of us a $300 bonus each for making so much money with that scheme. After the last customer left, we cleaned up, and we all collapsed into chairs, we all came out making at least triple what we usually made in one night (not counting the bartenders’ bonuses).