I was a bit lost at first, not really getting what he was hinting at.
But one thing was clear: he didn't drag me here just to ask a simple question.
"Sorry, I don't smoke. Just say what you need to say," I replied, keeping my voice steady.
The guy didn't answer right away. Instead, he flicked his cigarette ash into the tray and then slowly put out the cigarette.
He leaned back in his chair, hands on the armrests, giving me this weird, mysterious look.
His expression was even more confusing.
If I had to guess, he was probably trying to act all-important and authoritative, trying to intimidate me and make me feel pressured.
That way, if he made some crazy demands later, I might be too scared to say no.
But honestly, I had never been one to get freaked out by authority or mind games.
I stood there confidently, one hand in my pocket.
Luckily, I wasn't in my bar uniform. I was wearing this fancy suit Scarlett got me, which was pretty high-end.
Even though my suit wasn't as pricey as his, I had a better build. So, even in a cheaper suit, I looked better than him in his expensive one.
"Take it easy, boy, shouldn't we get to know each other a bit before discussing business?" The guy finally smiled, realizing his tough-guy act wasn't working on me.
So he switched to a friendlier approach.
"You called me here, so you must already know who I am.," I said calmly.
"You're quite sharp. I'm Matthew Nelson, the general manager of this bar," he said with a fake smile.
"Mr. Nelson, nice to meet you. So, why did you call me here?" I asked.
"When you came up, you must've seen the corridor," Matthew said, interlocking his hands on the table, his thumbs fiddling.
"Yeah, there are two rows of rooms," I nodded.
"Exactly. So many rooms above a bar, and we're both adults. You should know what these rooms are for, right?" he continued.
That got me thinking.
Having rooms above a bar wasn't just for a simple hotel. There had to be some kind of transaction going on, but what kind of transactions happen in a bar? Especially the kind adults were into.
I ruled out a bunch of possibilities, leaving only one—erotic transactions!
"You can't be serious..." I didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
Being asked to be a male model for sexual services? That was basically selling my dignity.
Seeing my reaction, Matthew started talking slowly, "Looks like you figured it out. When Fiona took your measurements last night, I saw your physique on the surveillance video. Your body is perfect; your muscles are finely sculpted. Each measurement is balanced, meeting our high standards for male models."
"If you agree to join our male model team, I'll make you our top model. I'll not only pay you your waiter salary but also offer you great benefits with our team," he continued.
"A base salary of fifty grand a month, plus daily commissions. The commissions come from tips and rewards from customers, and we won't take a cent of that. Whatever they give you is yours. How about it?" he added.
The offer was seriously tempting.
Especially with my stamina in bed, I'd probably be the most popular guy on the team and rake in the most cash.
But I wasn't desperate for money, and I didn't lack women either.
Mia, Sophia, Grace—any one of them could satisfy my needs.
Whenever I wanted, they were there for me, and they were all top-notch women.
And for sugar mamas, I had Catherine, who was young and my girlfriend.
I didn't need to sell my body to please some sugar mama.
"Sorry, I don't need that kind of money."
I turned to leave, but he stopped me at the door.
"Don't rush to refuse! I'll give you time to consider!" he said.
"Not interested, I have a girlfriend."
This time, I didn't give him a chance to persuade me. I just opened the door and left.
As soon as I stepped out, I ran into Fiona.
She had been eavesdropping at the door, and when she saw me, she was startled.
Seeing me walk away quickly, she hurried to follow.
"You don't need to rush to refuse. Every sugar mama who comes to our bar is a well-maintained woman. With your potential, you could make a lot of money," she tried to persuade me.
"Even if you don't need money, the more, the better, right?" she added.
The "potential" she mentioned was the size of my penis. She had touched it last night, so she knew it was big.
"What did Matthew offer you? Are you rushing to speak for him? Let me guess, he offered you ten grand for recruiting a high-quality male model, right?" I turned to question her.
"If that's the case, why not introduce the guy who picked you up in a Bentley last night? He might not need the money, but he wouldn't mind more," I continued.
I was actually a bit pissed. I used to think Fiona was someone I could develop a relationship with, but when I saw she might have a boyfriend, I gave up on that idea.
But what did she take me for? A commodity to be sold?
I didn't appreciate being disrespected like that. So my tone was harsh.
Fiona was speechless, unable to say anything for a while. "No, you misunderstood."
"Misunderstood? Are you not introducing the Bentley guy because his penis is small and he's bad in bed, afraid of embarrassing yourself?" I asked rudely.
"No," she shook her head.
"Then what is it? You don't want your man to be a male model and have sex with other women, right?" I continued.
This time, Fiona fell silent. It seemed like I hit the nail on the head.
"Similarly, my girlfriend also minds me having sex with other women, so please don't come between us," I said seriously. At that moment, I no longer saw her as my leader, but as a disgusting woman.
When I returned to the bar on the first floor, my colleagues had just finished a wave of work. John saw me and quickly pulled me into the break room to ask about the situation.
"David, what's going on? Why were you gone for half an hour? Did you have sex with her?" he asked curiously.