Her friend shrugged in answer.
“Do you know how long it takes me to earn a grand, serving waffles?” She looked around. “Where’s Regina? I’m going to ask her about it.”
“You can’t. She’ll know I blabbed.”
“I won’t say who told me.”
“You won’t have to,” Julia insisted.
Seeing the alarm on her face, Emily relented. “Oh, all right. But I could have used the extra money. I’m still a few hundred short on my tuition, which is due in a few days. And it would be a shame to see my family home taken by the city for taxes.”
“It’s that bad?”
“When your renters don’t pay rent, yes.”
“Now, I’m pissed.” Julia straightened, her flagging energy sparking to life. “You should evict them.”
“I thought of that, but lawyers cost money I don’t have.”
Julia stared at her, concern and uncertainty warring in her eyes. “If you’re going to do this, stick close to me on Saturday. I’ll make sure you don’t screw up so you’ll get asked back.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me—or Regina—until you see the place. It’s no country club.”
Still in the dark, Emily asked, “What is it, exactly?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“She asked if boobs and butts offended me. That’s about it.”
“Better hang on to your britches, sister. What you’ll see will curl your hair.”
That would be a feat. Her straight-as-a-pin hair hadn’t held a curl in her life, no matter what she tried.
As Emily pieced together what both Regina and Julia had told her, she frowned. “You’re scaring me. What exactly did I sign up for?”
“Just a server gig—at the most exclusive BDSM club in Florida. Maybe the whole Southeast.”
“BDSM? You mean whips and chains and leather?”
“That was the seventies version. Kink has evolved. Think suspensions, cupping, and rides you’ve never imagined.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I do have one crucial question. Do I have to be naked?”
Julia hooted with laughter. “Nope. Just naked-adjacent.”
Emily smiled. A little awkwardness was worth five hundred bucks, potentially a grand per week, and bills paid. “As long as my bare ass isn’t flapping in the breeze, count me in.”
Chapter 5
The staff stood single file in the prep hall, troops awaiting inspection, collars buttoned, aprons crisp, shoes polished to a mirror shine. Regina paced in front with a general’s scrutiny, eyes scanning for the tiniest sin—an untucked cuff, a crooked knot, a slouch.
She took a stack of papers from her clipboard and handed it to the server on the end closest to her. “Take one and pass them down,” she said then waited as the stack moved down the line.
“This is your NDA. Read it. Sign it. Don’t ask questions.”
Her dark eyes swept the room, promising retribution to anyone who dared. Regina didn’t tolerate mistakes. Compared to her, Attila the Hun was a cuddly teddy bear. Emily fished a pen out of her waiter’s apron, ready to sign as soon as the stack reached her. She’d already said yes—she wouldn’t lose this shift, or the desperately needed payday, on principle. One wrong word in front of a person with power—she’d learned—could cost you everything.
