Genii Karla - Meeting the Recruiter

Karla is unsatisfied.

The music is too loud and the bench seat she sits on is hard plastic. She shifts on it, knowing that it's uncomfortable for a reason. Her stocking leg is over the other, crossed and kicking a bored high heel up and down, trying to get into the DJ's music. But she can't.

She adjusts her expensive busty top that she bought for this evening, wishing she wasn't wearing it for several reasons. But as she watches the overcrowded sex club with naked men walking around in white socks, she has only one reason to keep it on.

She sighs as she watches some of the women standing around, clearly uncomfortable and hurting in their high heels. The spinning pink beds are cliché and their color doesn't change even with the rotating lights on the ceiling. One woman tries to sit on the bed, and a naked pot bellied man goes to grab her. She stands again, clearly not interested in sleeping with the man. She folds her arms.

And so does Karla.

Her date for the evening is Asiya. He's one of the naked men sitting on one of the several beds on the wide floor, waiting for the one of half a dozen women in this sex club to sit down. As it turns, he connects eyes with her. He rises and walks over.

"You wanna join me?" he says, extending a hand.

"To be honest Asiya, I'm really not feeling this place. At all," Karla says.

"Just an off night, I guess," he says. He rubs a hand over his pot belly.

"It's a Friday. You said it was sold out."

"Well it is," he says, looking around at the rest of the mediocre men standing about the room.

Half of them are jacking off to themselves. Most are crowded around the one small bed watching a woman being gang banged. The rest won't stop glazing their eyes over her. Even some of the attendants in suits for security are eyeing her. She stands up to relieve the pain building in her ass.

"Yes. Sold out with men. You also said this was the best sex club in the county," Karla says.

"Well... It is," says Asiya.

Karla walks over to the coat station. Asiya waddles after her.

"Where are you going?" he says. She reaches the counter and asks for her coat back.

"Home. I'm not feeling this place and I'm uncomfortable."

"Aw. I thought that this would be the one for you. I'm sorry the last few places didn't work out. Maybe we can try again next week?" he said.

Karla puts her long coat on and quickly ties it tight at the waist. She tries to hold her temper. Every single club he's taken her to has been a let down. Masturbating with expensive toys after this just felt pointless, and she'd wear out the batteries every time. Men from dating apps are just as useless and last shorter than the toys. And this neon themed gang bang party is as uninteresting as the peeling paint that she watched while she sat waiting for someone to walk in that didn't need to roll onto the bed.

But Asiya isn't someone she can yell at. Even as sexually frustrated as she is at that moment. She puts on her last smile for the evening.

"I'll see you at work on Monday," is all she can manage.

She leaves the club.

An attendant in a black suit follows her out.

#

She takes a walk in the wintery city to a speakeasy a few blocks down that she's heard about but never been to. Inside the empty wooden bar with soft red lighting, she takes her heels off at the high top. The pain and the cold are enough to cool her off and distract her from such a waste of time. But she heats back up as she sets her elbows on the bar and feels the sexual itch in her head.

The bartender see's her and gets her a drink. Karla nurses it, pressing the cold highball glass of whiskey against her forehead to try and further cool her temper off. The numbing cold is not even a fraction of the pain and pleasure that she desires, but more than what Club Joiful offered. She slams the drink back and asks for another.

"What's a woman like you doing drinking alone?" asks a voice.

She turns to a man in a black suit. She recognizes him, then sets her second drink on the counter and covers it with a coaster.

"Trying to cool off and get some space," she says. She turns back to the bar but the man sets his coat on the hook beneath and takes a seat.

"What's got you so steamed?" he asks. He puts a finger up to the bartender. The bartender nods to him like he's a regular.

"Just a bad date," Karla says. She takes the coaster off and takes a long sip.

"Must have been quite disappointing, being that you're dressed to the nines and all."

"Glad somebody noticed. Especially since you were looking me up and down in Club Joiful half the evening," she says. She slams her drink back and then back down on the bar. But the black suited man doesn't skip a beat.

"True. You were the most beautiful woman there that evening. And at Club Vixen. And the Bakers Dozen. And the Pleasure Lounge."

Karla feels the hairs on her neck stand on end. She looks into her whisky and recalls that this handsome man with the high shoulders did look familiar. Reminding herself that she's dealt with stalkers before, she feels her frustration replace itself with her calm and collected business manner.

"Never had such a beautiful looking stalker before," she says.

The bartender comes back with the high shoulder man's drink. She can smell a good tequila from a mile away, a Clase Azul Ultra in a crystal shot glass that doesn't match any other shot glass in the speakeasy. It's an odd drink for a speakeasy. Even more odd that it happens to be her favorite type of tequila. Last time she had it she was celebrating her promotion to partner at the law firm.

"Ma'am, can I get you another drink?" asks the bartender.

She looks at the high shoulder man in the eyes. He looks at her and holds her stare. The hairs on the back of her neck go down. He smiles gently.

"Yes. Just one more then close me out," she says.

As the bartender goes to fix the drink, she turns to the suited man and crosses her legs in the chair, sitting back.

"Why are you following me," she asks. The man sips his tequila first and sets it down carefully.

"I'm not following you. But I have been watching you." He gingerly twists the shot glass around on the bar.

"Okay, why are you watching me then?" she says.

"I watch lots of women at these places. I look for people like you all the time. But I don't find them often."

"Like me? What do you mean 'like me'?" she asks.

"Why don't you ever touch anyone at the clubs? You always wear the fanciest lingerie and yet you never take it off. Why?" he asks her back.

Karla feels her mind stir. It's true. She keeps seeking out new clubs week after week, searching for a type of feel. Something specific. Like an itch that she can't seem to locate it to scratch it. It becomes worse after every failed evening. Even though she finds some men attractive at these places, they just don't do it for her every time she goes.

"Because there's something missing. Something more that I can't seem to get. And those clubs feel like the only place I can find it, but I never do."

"And what's that?" asks the suited man.

Karla thinks for a moment but can't answer. It frustrates her that she can't. As a lawyer, she can always come back with a retort. She can spar with the most vicious of men in such a bloodbath of a field and fire back at anyone. But for the life of her, she can't figure out what it is. Between Club Joiful, the maddening itch, and now being unable to answer this simple question, her frustration boils over.

"Why should I tell you? You haven't told me much of anything about you other than that you've been spying on me. You better stop being cryptic and give me some straight answers. Do you work for all those clubs? Are you some type of recruiter or something?" she asks.

"Yes," he says flatly. "I'm a recruiter, but not the type you're thinking of," he says.

"I'm sure all pimps say that," she says.

The man stops twisting his shot glass. He turns and looks at her. A twinge is in his face and his eyes are slightly narrow. Karla feels herself blush.

"That was rather rude, I'm sorry I said that," she says.

"None taken Karla. I would never engage in such a profession," he says.

The bartender comes with her drink. She eyes it, then eyes the suited man with apologetic eyes. He holds his shot glass out at her.

"Shall we toast?" he asks.

Karla holds up her drink.

"To what?" she asks.

"How about trust?"

"How can I toast with a man 'to trust' that's been watching me but can't tell me why?" she asks.

"Because Karla. Unlike pimps and stalkers, I'm not here to try and use you or take anything from you. I'm here to offer you something that most women of your caliber can't buy. Something you can't find anywhere these days, especially in the places you've been."

"And what's that?" she asks.

"Trust from men," he says.

He looks her in the eye and the twinge is replaced with a slight smile.

They clink glasses and both take a sip. He gently slides his shot glass over with most of the liquid remaining. He stands, then reaches into his coat and brings out a card and places it on the bar.

Karla picks up the card. It's a weighted plastic, matte black, with a golden thunderbolt embossed in the middle. There is nothing else on it. She twists it in between her fingers and feels it.

"What is this?" she asks.

"Something we can trust you with."

"We? Who is 'we'?" asks Karla.

"You're incredibly smart Karla. I'm sure that you'll figure that out. And when you do, I'll be happy to see you again."

He puts on his coat and nods to the bartender.

"Oh, and don't worry Karla. I've heard worse from more guarded women than you. Have a good evening," he says. He smiles at her and walks out of the bar, leaving Karla holding the strange card in her hand.

She continues to stare at it and twists it in her hand. The bartender comes to give her the check. She looks at it. It's paid off with a generous tip from the recruiter.

"Hey," she says to the bartender. "Who the fuck was that and what was that about?"

He gives her a look, the kind she's seen from hundreds of men that all want to be with her. But this time, it's as if he's looking upon a Spirit or a God. Someone untouchable that not even dreams can come close to.

"I've been serving here for close to five years. He's only given three women that card. And you're one of them."

The bartender takes her empty glass and washes it, then goes in the back.

Karla sits at the bar and feels special, but she has no idea why.

She sips the tequila and feels her promotion all over again.