Chapter Text
The client currently working Jimin over was having a rough time. Jimin had stripped for him, danced for him, called him all sorts of sweet names. He’d gotten on his knees and tried to blow life into the limp thing, but to no avail. The man was too inebriated to get it up, and Jimin was getting tired.
He lay face down on the sectional, ass in the air, cheeks spread, waiting for something to happen, and it wasn’t. But he had learned patience, forced himself to, and the timer only had five more minutes on it. Once the buzzer went off, whether the client got the release he came here for or not, his time was up.
“Do you want me to—?”
“No!”
Four more minutes. Just four more.
The big man behind him exhaled gruffly and fell back onto the couch. Jimin craned his neck to take a look at him; patchy beard, oversized midsection, limp dick hanging from his parted pants.
Two more minutes.
The man avoided Jimin’s gaze as he tucked himself back in. He reached for his back pocket to retrieve a wallet, pulled a few bills out. Jimin waited in the same position he had been asked to get in. The client’s instructions had been clear: get your ass in the air and wait for me. So, Jimin waited.
The timer went off. Jimin’s muscles ached as he forced himself out of that position, freed his hands, and detached his face from the cushion of the couch. The client—a renowned man in politics, popular for his jolly looks and bright persona—tossed the bills over Jimin’s still naked body and huffed out of the room, displeased. Jimin exhaled his frustration. That guy thought he had it rough. He couldn’t possibly last an hour in Jimin’s shoes.
“200,000 won,” Jimin mumbled, counting the final bill. He hadn’t expected anything more, not with the man’s performance. Sure, the job was you get paid for the services you deliver, but no matter how good the dancer was, they apparently always fell short of something.
Jimin cleaned himself and the room up as best as he could, then headed back out to the loud bass and flashing lights of the club. Namjoon, the security guard specifically stationed for the VIP hallway, offered him half a smile as he exited.
“He looked like a handful,” Namjoon commented as Jimin passed by.
“Barely a fingerful,” Jimin replied.
Namjoon stifled a laugh. They needed to keep it professional. Only top clients passed through this part of the club, and they wouldn’t be doing anyone any services if they were caught belittling their clients. Clients who consisted of top CEO’s, politicians, entertainers, you name it. Anyone with money to blow off and weird fantasies to fulfill, you could expect to find them at Club Ulgwang.
Jimin ascended the stairs that began just as the hallway opened up to the main club. The VIP balcony was just that; the place VIP strippers drank their night away waiting for VIP clients to request their services. The club functioned a hierarchy of sorts. Strippers, upon getting hired, worked the poles and served drinks to the clients on the main floor. When a stripper’s popularity grew, they advanced to become VIP strippers, and that’s where the real money comes from. But stripper was too mild of a word to describe Jimin’s exact job description. Sure, he stripped once he was inside that room, but most times so did the client, and then they weren’t stripping anymore. They were fucking.
“How many?” Jin was asking a patron at the bar, a skinny, fidgety man scratching away at the back of his scalp.
“T-ten,” the man stuttered, passing Jin the money.
Jin cocked an eyebrow. “That’s 1,205,295 won?”
The man nodded furiously. “I’m a regular here, man. I know the prices. Just—just gimme’ my shit.”
Jimin sat just a few seats away from the desperate customer, avoided looking at him as he completed his purchase. Jin retrieved a small inconspicuous looking container from underneath the bar and slid it over to him, reaching for the money at the same time. “I’ll see you next time,” he bid the customer farewell. “Make sure you wait until you’re in your car!” he reminded him. “We don’t need another scene in here.” He turned to Jimin. “The regular?”
Jimin nodded.
“It’s ridiculous,” Jin began his tirade, turning to the bottles behind him and snatching a few off the racks. “Two workers in the span of a week, passing out on stage like that.” He was referring to the strippers, down on the main floor. “One of them was actually on the pole when she fainted and fell. I heard her head hit the stage from here, over the music and everything.”
“I doubt you did hyung,” Jimin replied, “but I’m sure the sound you imagined was accurate enough.”
Jin slammed Jimin’s glass down, sloshing the mix onto the counter. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t either,” Jimin offered. “They’re overworked and probably dehydrated. Maybe this will prompt Daniel to hire more workers. They barely get a break.”
Daniel, the manager specially hired from North America to run the club, was a skimpy bastard. Not only did he take 20% of the VIP tips at the end of each VIP strippers’ shift, but he hired just enough workers to keep each pole busy and not one more. He was hired for his managerial skills, Jin had told Jimin, but that didn’t mean he took care of the employees. It didn’t take long for Jimin to catch on to how the club managed to make as much money as it did. Not only were there shady business dealings, but no one received more pay than Daniel thought they deserved.
A buzzing sound abounded from behind the bar, and Jin handed Jimin a tablet. “It’s yours,” he said absently, at the same time reaching for a cloth to wipe up the mess he’d made.
Jimin sighed, stared tiredly at the name before him. Kim Taehyung. He had to be new, or at least the first time requesting Jimin, because he didn’t recognize the name. Jimin accepted the request and downed his drink in one go. “I’ll see you in another hour,” he mumbled, slipping down from his stool and passing his tablet back to Jin.
“Smile. It’s your last one of the night.”
Jimin offered him a garish grin over his shoulder as he sashayed away and back down the stairs.
“You’re popular tonight, Minnie,” Namjoon commented as Jimin took the same route he had come from minutes before.
Jimin sighed. “Not really, it’s just Saturday. Is this one at least good looking?”
Namjoon, with his tall and full build, sophisticatedly handsome face, and military stance offered Jimin a wink. “I think you’ll like this one.”
Jimin crossed his fingers behind his back before opening the door to room number 7. Namjoon wasn’t joking. Jimin had walked in on a supermodel—no, an actor—no, an angel! Being the professional he is, Jimin kept his composure as he closed the door behind him and mentally prepared himself for the show to begin.
Kim Taehyung looked up from his phone to see who had walked into the room. His expression was blank. There were no hints of any emotion emanating off him whatsoever, but Jimin would make sure to change that soon.
“Hey baby,” Jimin drawled sexily, taking on the personality of Minnie. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Kim Taehyung tucked his phone into his pocket. “Minnie,” he spoke in a low, husky voice. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” Expressionless.
Jimin shook his head, posing nonchalantly before his client. “No we haven’t, but whoever you were here to see, I’m glad they’re not in. I get to have you tonight.”
Taehyung indicated his chin to the left of Jimin where there was a table with a remote on it. “Red.” It wasn’t a demand but it wasn’t a question, and Jimin wondered if his monotone expressions also meant the sex was going to be just as bland.
Too bad, he thought. I could have actually enjoyed this one.
Jimin set the mood lights to red, the most basic of all colors, and played the Club Ulgwang specific playlist especially curated for these rooms. The show had begun and Jimin, with his lithe body and expert moves, started the strip tease that preceded any foreplay or sex. Most clients couldn’t last the hour they book, so he needed to fill the time up somehow.
“So, what are you into baby?” Jimin asked, folding himself in half to show off his flexibility. “What do you wanna’ do to me?”
“I’ve got a few rules,” Taehyung responded in the same dry tone as before.
Jimin dragged his hand up his flexed leg, past his thigh, and slowly over his torso. “Whatever you want.” That’s how money was made. You gave the client whatever they wanted.
“Actually, just one rule,” Taehyung corrected. “No touching.”
Jimin froze with one hand cupping his dick. “M-me, or you?” he asked, Minnie slipping away in his shock. He dropped his hand, his shoulders nearly sinking as well, and waited. What the hell did this man expect him to do, and how the hell was he going to get paid if he wasn’t doing anything?
“Me. No touching me. I’ll take care of what I need to take care of, and you do your thing. But I’m not here for sex.”
Jimin stood there in disbelief, staring at Taehyung confusedly for much longer of a time than he should have. The clock was ticking after all. “A-are you sure?” he mumbled, barely holding on to Minnie anymore.
Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at Jimin’s hesitation. Jimin gathered himself into Minnie once again—it was the only way he knew how to endure what occurred in this room—and continued with his striptease.
Is he just going to watch me the entire time? In his six months working at Club Ulgwang he had met many men with many weird fixations. The end result was always sex. After all, that’s what everyone came here for. To let off steam, to get a taste of something new, to indulge. But he had never come across a client specifically requesting he not touch them. He thinks I’m gross, Jimin concluded. He thinks I’m unworthy of touching him. He’s one of those guys.
Hypocrite.
Jimin unzipped his skintight black jeans and slowly shimmied out of them. He allowed himself to focus on the slow R&B music flowing through the room, moving his body with purpose, highlighting every sexy angle. He knew what turned people on, and he knew just how to work it, so he wasn’t surprised when minutes later Taehyung was unzipping his own jeans and reached for his cock. He looked much more relaxed now, his expression a little less blank, as his eye focused on Jimin’s growing bulge within his briefs. Keeping his eyes trained on the client, Jimin slid down the wall directly across from him, legs spread, and began working his hand over the material. Taehyung’s eyes traced a trail from Jimin’s dick, up his petitely cut torso, hesitated at his full and plump lips, and landed on his dark brown eyes. For minutes the two men sat there, eye contact unbreaking, as each one rubbed himself to full hardness. Taehyung finally pulled his dick out, satisfactorily sized and pleasantly girthy, spreading his precum up and over as his long fingers worked the organ over.
A little gasp escaped Jimin, but he swallowed its remainder back. Following his client’s actions, Jimin slid his briefs over his waist smoothly, his cock bouncing out from the tight hold gladly.
This isn’t right, Jimin thought as he watched Taehyung’s hand begin to gain a bit of speed. I should be leading this, I should be the one pleasing him.
Taehyung’s head lolled back as he allowed the pleasure to spread, and Jimin bit down on his bottom lip with a little whine as he watched the emotionless man finally feel something. Something about his beauty, something about the fact that it was the sight of Jimin that cracked him, turned Jimin on even more and he began pumping faster, his breathing growing heavier. Hearing this, Taehyung looked down at him again, focused his eyes to keep up with Jimin’s movements.
But this wasn’t enough for Jimin. He had grown used to so much stimulation to make him come ever since starting at the club that jerking off alone wasn’t going to lead him to orgasm. He ran his other hand over his body, reveling in his own touch, imagining it was Taehyung’s large hands rubbing him, flicking his nipples, grabbing his hair. He brought his hand to his mouth upon the aching of his insides. Slipping two fingers between his luscious lips, he licked and sucked around them, eyes glued to Taehyungs face to gage his reaction, and then reached behind him. Jimin moaned as he slipped both in at the same time. There was a whole closet of lube off to his right, but he was too comfortable in his position to grab one, so he sat there bare and exposed playing with himself as he watched another man get off on watching him.
Taehyung groaned at the sight before him, his hand moving furiously now, and Jimin paced himself just the same. Both heaved as they began to reach their climax, Jimin freeing his fingers to feel all over his own body, needing some skin on skin contact to keep him going. Is this what he’d wanted to see? Desperation?
"Fuck!" Jimin’s breath hitched, his stomach convulsed once, and then he was coming with a loud moan that overtook the music. None of his clients had been able to give him the release he’d needed today, taking care of themselves before tossing their money at him and walking out. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this. His hand continued pumping his cock, seemingly of its own accord now, as he rode his orgasm, peaking on oversensitive territory, before it got painful and he had to let go. His body went limp, his arms dead in his lap, as he watched Taehyung’s own pleasure begin to overtake him.
Jimin was typically vocal during this sessions, so it caught him by surprise how intently he had been focusing on Taehyung’s face and Taehyung’s hand this entire time that he was rendered speechless. With a dry throat he prompted the young client before him, suddenly feeling awkward with nothing to do. “Come on baby,” he encouraged him in Minnie’s slow and sultry way. “Come for me. I see how close you are, I see how bad you want to do what I just did. Come for me.”
And Taehyung was gone. He threw his head back, planted his free hand into the couch cushion as the orgasm shot through him, and once again the music was drowned out with the sounds of moaning. He came back down with gruff gasps that had Jimin’s cock twitching again, but Jimin pushed through those thoughts, knowing there wasn’t to be a second round of whatever had just happened.
Taehyung’s head lolled forward, eyes back on Jimin’s, as his breathing returned to normal.
“That,” Jimin mumbled, a satisfied smiled playing at his lips. “Was. So. Sexy.”
Taehyung chuckled. He actually chuckled, something short and adorable, and Jimin’s smile turned into a grin. Why was that the most adorable thing he had ever seen?
“Minnie,” Taehyung spoke quietly, fixing his pants. “I needed that. Thank you.”
Jimin felt heat rush up his neck. Thank you?
“I-It’s my job,” he said with an unsure chuckle, gathering his briefs to put them back on. They were dirty and wet with precum, but the clock said they had eight minutes left to this session, and something felt off about remaining naked.
Taehyung, who finally had a permanent smile on his face, patted the empty space adjacent to him, indicating for Jimin to sit down. “You’re very pretty Minnie,” he said with the most endearing smile tugging at his boxy lips, and Jimin felt himself blush even more.
Someone who looked like that was complimenting him on his looks? Not that Jimin thought he was ugly in any way, but…compliments and thank you’s were a rarity in his line of work.
“You’re sexy,” Jimin offered him, and it was not one bit a lie. With the tension gone, and with both men relieved, Jimin was finally able to really drink in Taehyung’s looks. Although his beauty was striking at first glance, the more Jimin unpacked this meal the more he realized how he dripped with sex appeal even when picked apart. The permed brown hair, the thick lashes, the high nose, the boxy lips, the strong jaw; nothing about him was absolutely perfect, and yet everything was. The barely-there mole on the right side of his bottom lip…Jimin suddenly had the urge to take his between his own, but he kept himself at bay. The man’s only rule was no touching.
“What’s your real name, Minnie?” Taehyung asked, and once again Jimin was caught off guard.
Was he even allowed to reveal his name? He couldn’t remember reading anything about names in the contract, just knew that no one went by their real name. Did he want to give his name?
“J-Jimin,” he found himself mumbling, entranced with how intoxicating Taehyung looked when he smiled. The monotone vanilla bean from a few minutes ago was long gone now.
“Jimin. Last name?”
“P-Park.”
Park Jimin could not remember a time in his life when he stuttered more than he did today.
“Park Jimin. You probably already saw my name with my request, but I’m Kim Taehyung.”
“N-nice to meet you K-Kim Taehyung.”
STOP WITH THE STUTTERING ALREADY!
“Jimin, I think you might be my new favorite person around here. You don’t mind if I book you regularly, do you?”
What the hell?
Jimin forced the words out before his brain could stumble over any of them. “No, most clients are regulars anyway.”
“Good, good. By the way Jimin, I’ve always wondered something. Do you guys keep the full tip client’s give you, or is there a split somewhere?”
First his name and now his pay? Who was this guy to be asking so many questions?
“The manager gets 20% of what we make.”
And why am I answering all his questions?
Taehyung’s smile faltered somewhat at that information. “Hm.” He leaned back against the couch, displeased. “I’m gonna’ need to talk to him about that.” His eyes flashed to the clock above the door. “Three more minutes. What do you want to talk about in three minutes Park Jimin?”
“Talk?”
Taehyung nodded like this wasn’t a strange question, like Jimin hadn’t been making a fool of himself ever since they put away their dicks.
“Talk. What do you want to talk about?”
Jimin thought for a moment, felt compelled to come up with an answer before their time was up. “Talk about,” he wracked his brain, and then the answer was right there. “How this was the best session I’ve had this week, and we didn’t even have sex.”
Just as he knew it would, his answer had Taehyung smiling warmly again. Seeing that, Jimin couldn’t help but smile back.
A buzzing noise sounded. Both men glanced up at the clock, and sure enough their hour was officially over. Jimin waited for Taehyung to retrieve his wallet, slip out a few bills, and set them in the empty space between them. “I’ll see you next time Park Jimin. Ah, Minnie. We’ll keep it…professional?...outside this room.”
Jimin thought they had been more than professional ever since orgasming, but something more pressing needed to be pointed out. “This is six million won.”
Taehyung nodded. “Yeah, it is. And remember, you won’t need to see your manager about splitting any of that. I’ll talk to him right now.”
With that, Taehyung was closing the door behind him, leaving Jimin feeling stupefied. Suddenly he was laughing, a harsh giggle overtaking his slim frame, sending him off the couch. He lay on the bare concrete floor, laughing as R&B music continued to play lamely in the background like an ill fitting OST. “What the fuck!” He held the money before him, counted it again and again, and each time he came out with the same amount. Six million won. For what? For jerking himself off? For letting some guy watch him?
And then his laughter began to die down, because something about this scenario began to strike him as sad. A man had literally just paid him six million won just to jerk himself off, and that was sad, and Jimin already had a soft spot for Kim Taehyung.
That six million weighed heavy on him, and Taehyung’s words even heavier. You won’t need to see your manager about splitting any of that. It just didn’t seem right. It was in his contract, Daniel receives 20% and that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it is for all the VIP strippers. In the time it took to get his room cleaned up, he figured he couldn’t walk out of there without passing by his manager’s office as he usually does, and so he took the steps up to the balcony two at a time, rushed past Jin who was finishing tidying the bar, and knocked on Daniel’s door three times.
“Come in,” came the man’s voice in perfect Korean.
Jimin entered the impeccably decorated and organized office, closing the door with a soft click behind him. The Caucasian man, somewhere in his early to mid-forties, was pouring over paperwork and cash, no doubt recording how much he had taken from each of the employees for the day. “I’m here to split my tips,” Jimin announced as he does at the end of every shift.
Upon recognizing Jimin’s voice, Daniel slowly looked up from the task at hand, his classes rested on the tip of his nose. Slowly, he folded them closed and set them on the obsessively organized desk to look Jimin over. “Did you have a good day?” he asked with a tight smile on his face, and Jimin couldn’t be sure what to make of his tone. Daniel wasn’t exactly cordial with the employees, really he was indifferent with them, but this entire situation had him feeling uneasy.
“A day like any other,” Jimin responded easily, planted in front of the door, waiting to be asked to step forward.
Daniel huffed. “You don’t need to split your tips anymore, Minnie. You can go now.” He dipped his head back down to resume his work.
Jimin was frozen on the spot. “W-what do you mean?” Had Taehyung really…?
Daniel sighed. “A VVIP client has seemingly taken a great interest in you, and at his request we are no longer to split your tips. Have a good day now.”
Jimin couldn’t move. What sort of power did Taehyung have to convince Daniel, the man brought to South Korea all the way from America to run a tight ship, not to split Jimin’s tips?
“M-maybe we should double check with the owner?” Jimin suggested, his unease ever growing. Jin had told him so many horror stories about the owner of the club that Jimin feared even the mention of him. No one knew who he was, no one had ever seen his face. He was the puppet master pulling the strings from somewhere far away where no one could connect this illicit business to him, and the last thing Jimin wanted was to be on his radar.
But Daniel simply scoffed at Jimin’s suggestion. “Minnie, contact was made with the owner himself and the official order came from him. We are no longer splitting your tip. Now Good. Day.”