The business

Toby

I pushed the door open and strode into her office, the faint hum of the club below buzzing through the floorboards.

“Knock on the door when it’s closed, Toby,” she said, her tone sharp but laced with that familiar exasperation she reserved just for me.

The guy who’d handed her the drink earlier—a lean, sharp-jawed type with a buzz cut and a chip on his shoulder—stepped forward, squaring his shoulders like he was ready to play bouncer. “Do you want me to get him out of here?” he asked, his eyes flicking to me with a mix of suspicion and bravado.

Vicky laughed, a bright, cutting sound that filled the room, and winked at me over his head. “I want to see you try.” She waved a dismissive hand, her grin wicked. “Guys, chill. Say hello to your new stage brother. This is my dear Toby. He’s joining the show this month. It’s temporary.”

The room went quiet for a beat, the four guys exchanging glances. Then the cocky blond—the one who’d offered to toss me out—stammered, his bravado crumbling. “The lo-lo-bi…”

“Shut up, Michael!” Vicky snapped.

He flinched, his tan face going pink, and mumbled something under his breath.

The others recovered faster, stepping forward one by one to greet me. Michael, still hovering near Vicky’s desk, shuffled over last, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, man, my bad.”

“Okay. Relax,” I said, waving it off with a smirk. I turned to Vicky, who was watching the whole thing with an amused glint in her eye. “So, Vicky, how does it work?”

She handed me her drink and explained the hours I was supposed to come in. The club was open Thursday through Sunday, and we had three days off. I was supposed to come in at midnight. A full moon would be projected and dry ice smoke would be spread to create the atmosphere. It was corny, but the ladies liked it, according to Vicky.

Petry would do a choreography for me and I would wear a wolf mask. It was the solution she found so that my father would never find out about my extra work.

I rehearsed for a week, and it turned out pretty good. Of course, it's not something to put on your resume. Vicky took some photos for the poster, a banner, a promotional video. My debut was going to be on Friday, of course! It was a full moon night and everything, and the show went off, and she opened an extra session. We were all going to earn double in one night.

The guys were cool, almost all of them were Vicky's friends, but they really liked her. And I thought she had no one. I was even jealous. Only Petry, the choreographer, and Mike, who was a security guard, were acquaintances of my mother and, therefore, knew about my connection with Vicky and that I was a real werewolf, besides the guy Michael who was dating one.

Michael was also the son of a werewolf and a human, but he didn't transform, although he had a werewolf sister. Michel played one of the firefighters, but I suspected that he wanted to put out the fire, it was my Vicky's. And I didn't know if I would like that, but she swore that he was acting like a macho man but was gay.

The show started with the classic, police officers beating up the girls, then came the angels, the gangsters, the players, and then came the attraction, the novelty, me as a werewolf and a sensual ballerina was my prey. We choreographed some make-out and the girl was already in love.

When I left the stage with the girl, the firefighters came in to put out the women's fire. They also did massages and even sex, but outside the club. It was an agreement between client and professional. Vicky didn't even take a commission from it. She said she wasn't a pimp. She was the manager of a group of male dancers, her bad boys.

The more time I spent with Vicky, the more I found myself wanting her to be my partner—not just in the casual, tangled-up way we’d always been, but something deeper, something permanent. We slept in the same bed most nights now, her warmth pressed against me, her soft snores a quiet rhythm in the dark.

I’d kiss her, slow and deliberate, my hands kneading her shoulders, her back, tracing the familiar landscape of her body. But I wouldn’t push past that, wouldn’t cross that line unless she asked me to.

It was an unspoken rule between us, a boundary I’d drawn years ago and clung to, even when every nerve in me screamed to blur it.

And by God, when I let my hands slide down to stroke that round ass—full and perfect like the moon on a clear night—I was ready to lose it.

My blood ran hot, my breath hitched, and I had to tear myself away, rolling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom for a cold shower.

Vicky’s laughter followed me, bright and teasing. “It’s just the tension of your debut, wolf boy!” she called through the door, her voice dripping with amusement.

But I knew what it was. When I was a kid, holding back had been easier—puppy love and clumsy restraint.

Now? Now it was getting harder every damn day.

She was hot. She knew it. And she wielded it like a weapon, effortless and unapologetic. There wasn’t a curve on her that wasn’t in exactly the right place. She’d grumble sometimes about the extra love handles hugging her waist, but to me, they were perfect—soft and real, matching the thick thighs that could crush a man’s resolve, the big breasts I’d memorized every inch of, and that delicious ass that haunted my dreams.

If she ever started working out, sculpting herself into some sleek goddess, she’d be unbearable—too much for any mortal to handle. It was better this way: cute, delicious, a woman who filled the bed with her presence, her laughter, her everything.

Damn it. I was already horny again, the icy water doing nothing to cool the fire she’d lit in me.

Vicky

I went out with the boys.

I had fun, I kissed, I danced, I made out, I had oral sex, but no penetration.

No, not that.

That was an intimacy that I would save for a few. The first one would have to be special. Special like Toby, but it couldn't be him. If it was and then his partner showed up, I would be left and that wouldn't be good at all.

Then, that talk of I'll take care of you, you'll be my sister until you die...

Geez, I was going to have to put up with a young man, having sex with his partner and me in the next room eating soup like an old woman and waiting for death to come. Not even fucking, or rather, no fucking, then.

Either he would be my partner or it would be better to just be his little sister.

Deep down, I wanted that, I really wanted him to come back one day and we would discover there and then that we were the two of us, our true partners chosen by his goddess. When I saw him arriving, this time, I thought for a moment that it could be.

But if that's how life wants it, dear Toby, you can rub my ass all you want because that's all it will be. It's hard to resist the heat, but just think of him as a brother.

All my boys are hot. I could even try with someone, but I don't know...

For now, it's better to let Toby go.

Not before I make some good money with him, damn it! I never thought that my werewolf fetish would pay me so much. I'll be able to enjoy vacations in California or Hawaii if I want.

God bless you, Toby.

After he's gone, I'll have to put another boy in his place. But after about three months. I'll let the bitches suffer from longing.

I hope he finds his mate, I'll wait until he's 25. If he doesn't find her, I'll claim him myself, but then he said he'd want to transform me. It must hurt like hell. I don't know if I can handle it.

I'm weak to pain.

Well, that's my plan and if my guardian angel isn't Cupid's partner and I don't love anyone more than Toby, I'll go with Toby anyway. Now if he finds his mate, I'll settle for being the spinster aunt.

And that's okay. I know how to have fun, really, marriage isn't essential and I don't plan on having kids, I'm terrified of that.