“Temptation is a motherfucker, isn’t it?”



           I stood at the reentry door and watched Jezelle and her girlfriends walk up the ramp. She looked amazing in her all black outfit. A river of dark hair flowed down her back and her tan body was firm and athletic from all the many hours she spent in the gym every week. Like many girls of Latina descent, Jezelle was also blessed with a large and pleasantly round pair of glutes.

          “Hey, Darren,” she said with a smile. “How are you?”

          “Good. How’s it going?”

          She stuck out her cheek for me to kiss, something every girl from Miami seemed to do.

          “Hi, Darren,” said the short girl standing next her.

          My eyes quickly took notice of the pretty brunette, her muscular gymnast body, and her big ass.

          “Anne,” I said. “Hey. How’s Dillon doing?”

          She snorted. “Wow. I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. Dillon and I broke up. It’s just me in the girls now.”

          I felt less than tactful. “Uh…sorry…we haven’t seen each other since this summer at McMillan’s party.”

          The short brunette giggled. “Wasn’t that the party when you guys were arguing over whether or not penises are supposed to hang to the left or right?”

          My jaw dropped and Jezelle playfully asked, “So which way does it hang, Darren?”

          I laughed with the two girls, but knew I was probably blushing. Jezelle spared me from further discomfort by introducing me to her two other companions. Both blonde-haired girls were extremely attractive upperclassmen which enhanced Jezelle’s social status and increased my attraction for her. Within The Scene, the laws of social status were always in operation. Aware of this, I decided to flex my nightclub power.

          “Would you ladies like to cut the line?” I offered.

          “Can we?” Anne asked excitedly.

          “Sure,” I replied. “Just step over the railing.”

          “Thanks, Darren.”

          The two blondes smiled at me and followed the short brunette over the yelling railing. I knew this small gesture would enhance my social standing among the girls who were probably checking me out in an effort to measure if I was good enough for Jezelle.

          “Are you gonna be out here all night?” Jezelle asked.

          “No. I’ll probably get pulled inside for floor duty in the next half-hour.”

          “Will you come and talk to me later?”

          “Of course,” I said with a playful undertone. “Where else would I want to be?”

          “You’re such a flirt,” she accused.

          “No. I’m just inspired.”

She smiled. “Thanks for letting us skip the line.”

          The pretty girl stepped over the railing and walked forward a few steps to where her friends were having their IDs checked by Adam. It looked like the bouncer knew a couple of the girls because he was laughing with them about something. I sat down on the railing and watched the chisel-faced young man with glasses engage the South Florida beauties. Adam was definitely a bouncer who used his job to get laid. Observing him in action, I realized for the thousandth time that I was missing out on one of the major perks of working at a nightclub.

          My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. Adam’s muscular brother Brandon was lumbering down the wooden reentry ramp with a big smile on his face. The blonde-haired, freckled bouncer wore the standard Saturday night uniform—black dress pants and a black polo shirt with the LNL logo stitched in white on the right side of his chest.

          He sat next to me on the railing and asked, “Who were those girls you were just talking to? They’re smoking hot.”

          “I just know one of them from the gym.”

          “The Latina? I always see her and some tall blonde in the Leach Center. I love girls that train in sports bras and workout gloves.”

          I nodded. “The Sex Goddesses. That’s what my boys used to call them when we were freshmen. The one I was just talking to is Sex and the tall blonde she works out with is Goddess.”

          He chuckled. “That’s funny. My brother and I do the same shit. I bet every group of meatheads has nicknames for the high profile women they see in the gym.”

          I nodded. “The Legend, Pony Legs, Ethnic Girl, 13-Year-Old, Super Butt, No Calves, Fuck Me Look Girl.” I grinned and added, “Ugly chicks get it too. Hair Lip, The Busted Clique, Camel Toe Ho, Pooch Belly, Ass Face, The Italian Sausage.”

          Brandon laughed. “So what’s up with that girl Sex? Are you tapping that?”

          “Nah, man. We met in the Leach Center last spring when we used the same triceps machine. Her real name is Jezelle. She gave me her number and I called her a couple times, but nothing happened.”

          “Why not? She seemed into you.”

          My shoulders shrugged casually.

“Oh yeah,” Brandon said with a sly smile, “you have a girlfriend. Is she coming up here tonight?”

          “No. She’s at some convention in Orlando with the Business Fraternity.”

          Brandon laughed and sagely replied, “Temptation is a motherfucker, isn’t it?”


          Another set of heavy footsteps was heard coming down the ramp and we both turned to see Seth. The golden blonde bouncer smiled at us with the self-assurance of an alpha male who knew he was big, handsome, and popular.

          “What’s up, boys?” he asked. “How’s the line looking tonight?”

          “Same as it always looks,” Brandon replied. “Fucking amazing.”

          Seth stared out at the long line of college students twisting out the front door. Hundreds of young men and women, already drunk from their pre-party activities, were smoking cigarettes and excitedly chattering away as they waited for entry. They were a diverse crowd of fratboys, sorority girls, thugs, meatheads, fitness girls, club rats, and club sluts, but most of them took the time to dress up for the occasion in fashionable club attire. Those that did not risked being denied at the door, or even worse, they risked being denied by members of the opposite sex.

          Seth gave us a cocky grin. “I love how all these little sluts dress up like they’re going to some fancy joint in South Beach. Watch this. I’ll be right back.”

          Our eyes followed the young man as he strolled down the reentry ramp, walked around the line of patrons, and disappeared from sight. I wasn’t surprised when the bouncer returned moments later with four beautiful girls, two of them on his arms. He escorted the young women up the reentry ramp and winked at us like he had just told us an inside joke.

          “Here ya go, ladies,” Seth said with a charming smile. “You can step over the railing here.”

          “Thanks, Seth,” one of the girls replied.

           The first three young women stepped over the railing with the sexuality of ring girls climbing into a boxing ring. Legs were lifted over one at a time and asses arched in the air as the girls straddled the pole. The fourth girl, a petite blonde, seem to be hesitating.

          She looked up at Seth with her big blue eyes and said, “Seth, you have to help me over.”

          The tall bouncer grinned. “Why can’t you do it?”

          Seth,” she whined, “you know why I can’t do it!”

          Seth grabbed the girl by her waist and hoisted the 100 pound Barbie Doll up and over the railing. As he set the blonde down, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper a few suggestive words in his ear. He smirked and whispered something back before they separated and she followed her friends to the front door.

          “Later, boys,” Seth said to me and Brandon. “One of those girls is my fraternity brother’s ex-girlfriend. He’s inside with some freshman slut and it could get ugly if I don’t warn him the crazy bitch is here.”

          “Seth!” Brandon called out, halting the other bouncer in mid-stride. “Why couldn’t that girl step over the railing?”

          Our coworker grinned. “Because she wasn’t wearing these.” He pulled from his pocket a pair of lacy pink panties, sniffed them, and then quickly stuffed them away. “I love my fucking job.”

          As the cocky bouncer swaggered away chuckling, I stared at Brandon in confusion and asked, “How the fuck did he get her to take her panties off out here?”

          “Fuck if I know,” Brandon shrugged. “It’s Seth, man. That’s what he does.”

          I nodded in understanding. We all had a purpose for being here. Mine was to crack skulls and bring in people from the unique social niches of which I was a member—the Upsilon fraternity and ROTC. Seth’s job was to bring in women. Everyone knew the pretty boy didn’t take his security job seriously, but Russell kept him around because he was a chick magnet, and where the hot women of Tallahassee went, the rest of FSU’s mainstream college crowd always followed.

          Brandon and I continued to sit on the railing and check out the many college girls waiting to enter the nightclub. There were an unbelievable number of beautiful women in Tallahassee and it seemed like most of them came to LNL on Saturday nights. Unfortunately, they were all off-limits to me, a fact my coworker seemed to enjoy rubbing in.

“So, Darren,” Brandon asked with a wiry grin, “your girlfriend is really out of town, huh? When you get home tonight, are you gonna call her for a little bit of phone cuddling while I’m banging out one of these sorority sluts?”

          I sullenly crossed my arms. “Phone cuddling? You’re a funny fucker, aren’t you, Brandon?”

          The bouncer laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Seriously, I’m impressed with your ability to say no to all of this.” He waved his hand at the long line filled with beautiful college women. “You’re a better man than me.”

          My eyes scanned over the crowded line, catching sight of two pretty brunettes who were staring right at us. They giggled and quickly looked away.

          “If you say so, Brandon,” I mumbled. “If you say so.”

          Brandon chuckled and strolled back inside the nightclub. As he walked away, I silently wondered if my coworkers thought I was an idiot for having a girlfriend, and being faithful to her, when I worked at the hottest club in Tallahassee. Not that their opinion much mattered to me, but the same conclusion had crossed my own mind several times.

          Thirty minutes later, I found Jezelle and her friends downing shots of tequila at the main bar. Anne smiled when she saw me approach and excitedly tapped Jezelle on the shoulder. I had apparently passed the friend litmus test of social approval.

          “Hi, Darren,” Jezelle said.

          “Hey. Having fun?”

          The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. “I am now. Some guy was hitting on me a few minutes ago and he seemed normal until he asked me what kind of pills I was taking tonight.”

          I laughed. “That’s disturbing, but I bet you’re used to getting hit on by all types of guys.” My gaze shifted to Anne who was pretending not to eavesdrop. I raised my voice and said, “You and your friends look great tonight.”

Anne smiled and Jezelle’s dark eyes lit up with delight.

“Thank you,” the Latina replied. “We try.”

          “And you succeed.”

          Jezelle’s eyes lit up with pleasure once again, but it occurred to me that I might have been laying it on a little thick. No, I was the younger guy and she was a hot older girl. There was no point trying to play the unimpressed cocky card because she already knew I thought highly of her. On the other hand, there was nothing to be gained from blowing her head up. There is no reason to blow up any girl’s head—ever.

          Jezelle lifted her drink and teasingly sipped from the small red straw. Her thick lips curved into a seductive smile.

          “So how’ve you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in the gym lately.”

          “I’ve been going in the mornings, usually around eleven. That prime time five o’clock crowd is too much for me to handle.”

          “Yeah, I know what you mean. I don’t really like going at that time either, but my roommate Victoria likes it.”

          “Where’s she at tonight?”

          Jezelle rolled her eyes. “She’s having problems with her boyfriend again. She thinks he’s gonna be here, so she didn’t want to come.”

          “Didn’t that guy get kicked out of here last week for urinating under the bar?”

          Her face soured. “Yeah. Bryan is so foul sometimes.”

          “Hey, Darren!” yelled a male voice.

It was the assistant manager leaning over the bar. I approached him with an upwards head nod.

“What’s up, Scott? What do you need?”

          “Tell Adam that he’s probably gonna want another bouncer working the main dance floor tonight. It’s already slammed in there.”

          “Alright, cool,” I said and returned to Jezelle. “Duty calls, my dear. I’ll probably be posted on the dance floor soon.”

          “The girls and I will be out there tonight.”

          “Will you come and talk to me?”

          Jezelle’s eyes fluttered playfully. “Of course—where else would I want to be?”

          I left the pretty South Florida girls and headed towards the front entrance of the main room. Russell was hovering near the double doorway and the stern face of my stocky Italian manager revealed no emotion as I approached. Standing with his arms folded across his chest, he was neatly dressed in black slacks and a black button-down and kind of looked like a Mafioso crime boss.

          I gave him a friendly nod. “How you doing, Russell?”

          “Why didn’t you pick up those cups on the tables you just walked by?”

          Having been Russell’s employee for some time now, I was accustomed to his pointed directness.

          “Scott wanted me to tell Adam we need another bouncer on the main dance floor tonight. It’s getting packed out there already.”

          With no remorse for his incorrect assumption that I had been slacking off, Russell curtly replied, “Go clean off the tables right now and I’ll take care of the dance floor.”

          Fucking prick, I thought and obediently returned to the tables to clear out ash trays and dispose empty cups. Brandon appeared at my side a few seconds later.

          “I saw that,” he grumbled. “He treats us like shit just to remind us how low we are in the chain of command.”

          “Does he do that to everybody?” I asked.

          “Not the big shot bartenders who promote for this place.” The freckled bouncer grinned and added, “And not the female employees who haven’t turned down his dinner offer yet.”

          “He asks out girls that work here? He’s gotta be like forty years old.”

          “All of them,” Brandon replied and then changed his voice to do an impersonation of our boss. “This won’t affect your job in anyway, but would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

          I snorted. “I’ll bet it doesn’t affect their job.”

“It definitely does because if they say no, he starts treating them like he treats us. Like shit.”

I chuckled and went back to work.

          At about 1:00 AM, I was instructed by Adam to relieve Kyle from his dance floor security position on stage. Brandon was posted up across from me and the human cyborg Tyson stood vigilant on top of the dance floor bar. His platinum blonde hair seemed to glow in the dark. The three of us were a good bouncing squad and were ready for battle. We would not be disappointed.

          A fight erupted on the dance floor between a group of young men, or actually, one fratboy who looked like he was beating the shit out of two other fratboys. Brandon saw the fight first and immediately shined his flashlight in my eyes to garner my attention before doing the same to Tyson. He then pointed the flashlight beam at the brawl occurring in the corner of the dance floor.

I jumped down off the stage and slammed through dancing bodies, hearing the fading sound of some girl yell “What the fuck!” behind me. There is always at least one girl who screams these exact words any time you forcefully bust through a crowd of people. Brandon, Tyson, and I converged on the fight at about the same time and I snatched one of the combatants from behind.

“You’re out of here!” I yelled.

“Get the fuck off me!” screamed the spiky-haired fratboy. He wasn’t a small kid, I actually recognized him from the gym. But he definitely wasn’t a big kid either because he spent more time sneaking peeks in the mirror than he did lifting weights.

When the fratboy resisted my headlock clench, I shoved a thumb deep into his armpit which immediately caused him to cease struggling. Pressure points are called pressure points for a reason.

One of the young men took a clumsy swing at Brandon who sidestepped the blow and threw the guy into a modified, full nelson chokehold. Tyson the Terminator yoked the other fratboy by his neck and we drag-walked the combatants through the crowd, towards the front entrance.

Someone had tipped off the door cops and they met us in the entry room where they handcuffed all three assailants and took them outside for questioning. Brandon stayed with the cops to give his account of what happened and Tyson and I returned to our duties on the dance floor.

          On the way back to the stage, I encountered a wide-eyed, very sweaty Rico. The meathead bartender looked like a zombie on speed.

          “What happened?” he asked in a hyper voice. “There was a fight?”

          “Yeah, we just threw them out.”

          There was an extremely anxious look in his eyes as he asked, “Do you know anyone who has blow or G on them?”

          I shook my head. “Nah, man. Sorry.”

          Rico offered no reply and quickly walked away. He was a man on a mission, yearning for some drugs.

          A skinny barback named Chad approached me next. I noticed he was rubbing his shin.

“Did Rico hit you too?” he asked me.

          “No. He hit you?”

          “Fucking leg-kicked me like a goddamn kickboxer.”

          “Yeah…he’s pretty fucked up tonight.”

          Chad shook his head in anger. “That guy is fucking crazy.”

“Certifiable,” I grinned.

“No, I’m serious, dude. He woke up my neighbor last night by injecting him in the shoulder with Nubain.”

          “What’s Nubain?”

          “Some kind of seriously strong painkiller that pro-wrestlers take so the can wrestle injured. There’s a few juice-heads around here who take that shit just to get fucked up.”

          “And Rico woke up your neighbor with it?”

          “Yup. He fucking jabbed a needle in his shoulder and said, ‘Come on, you’re coming with me to this party.’”

          I stared at Chad in shock. “Wow. Fuck that. I’d be furious if someone just stuck a needle in me.”

          The skinny barback nodded and limped away, still rubbing his aching shin.

          I continued walking towards the main dance floor, but my path was intercepted by Blake and Moody who were in the company of a pretty blonde and a slightly overweight brunette with an enormous pair of fake tits.

          “Yo, Bryce,” Blake said, grinning, “I saw you break up that fight. That was badass.”

          I smiled smugly. I did feel like a badass and the two girls must have thought so too because they were eyeing me with interest. Either that or they were enticed by my black polo LNL shirt. One thing I had learned from my experience as a bouncer was that working at a bar or nightclub gave young men and women quasi-celebrity status within the mainstream college crowd. If The Scene was a show, then the employees of establishments that served alcohol were all starring actors.

          Moody leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you have any more wristbands? We want to get these two Zetas drunk.”

          “What happened to the five I already gave you?”

          He held up his wrist. “I’ve got one, Blake’s got one, we gave one to Chris D and Klein, and I sold the other one to some tool hanging out with Mendez.” Moody stuffed a green bill down my front pocket. “Here, take the ten he gave me.”

          “Alright, cool,” I said and reached into my back pocket for two orange wristbands. “Make sure they put them on their right-hand wrists.”

          Moody nodded. “Thanks, Bryce.”

          The girls apparently knew what our conversation was about because the blonde approached me and kissed me on the cheek. It was one of those cheek kisses that grazes the side of your lips and leaves you wanting much more.

          “Thank you,” she said, batting her big brown eyes.

          Her dark-haired friend smacked my ass and smiled at me wickedly. “I heard you have a girlfriend,” she said. “That’s too bad.”

          My lips twisted into a sly smile and I imagined what it would be like to titty fuck her silicone breasts. Too bad indeed.

          I returned to my post on the stage and resumed my vital security duty of spending more time observing sexy women dancing than surveying the room for fights. True to her word, Jezelle and her friends eventually appeared. The girls danced together in a tight group and I watched as they used their bodies to shield each other from unwanted guys. If an undesired male tried to dance with any of the girls, she would turn away from him and dance with one of her friends who would also turn away from the guy and try to block him out. This process was repeated several times over before suitable male candidates were accepted.

          Jezelle played it cool for about twenty-five minutes before walking up the stairs of the stage to come see me. If it had been her intention to increase my attraction for her by completely ignoring me while she danced with other guys, then she had definitely succeeded—I wanted her badly.

When the pretty Latina reached the top of the stairs, she edged around the thick crowds until she was standing mere inches in front of me. The sexual tension between us was intense.

          “What are you gonna do after this?” Jezelle asked.

          It was my turn to play it cool, so I gave her a casual shrug and said, “I don’t know…we usually don’t get out of here until after three.”

          After I spoke these words, I leaned in closer to Jezelle so that I could better hear her response above the loud sound of DJ Mike G booming from the dance floor speakers. My nostrils were instantly filled with the luscious smell of her hair and perfume. So accustomed was I to the aroma of my girlfriend that the effect of this unfamiliar feminine scent on me was quite arousing. It was a physiological reaction that spoke loud and clear—Jezelle was a new and different mate to spread my gene pool.

          The Latina must have sensed my reaction because she moved even closer to me. I could feel her soft, teasing breath on my ear.

          “The girls and I are going to an after-party,” she said. “You should come. Do you still have my number?”

          I shook my head no which caused Jezelle to pull away.

          Her dark eyes danced as she said, “Ohhh that’s so messed up!”

          I put my hands around Jezelle’s waist and pulled her back to me. This time it was she who felt my hot breath on her ear.

          “Tell it to me right now and I promise I will never forget it again.”

          And that was it. She gave me her number and I agreed to call her after work. With lustful thoughts dominating my mind, cleanup that night seemed to pass by very slowly.

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