My Step-Uncle's Plaything

　　Alice

　　"Motherfu—" The manager's curse hung in the air the moment he saw me. He had summoned me to his office, and after giving two knocks, I pushed the door open. And there he was, caught red-handed, screwing one of the promo girls from behind.

　　"S-Sorry, Sir. I-I didn't mean to," I stammered as I turned around, face burning with shock and disgust.

　　"Why the hell didn't you knock?" he barked, irritation sharp in his voice.

　　"I did knock, Sir. I'll just... step outside," I replied, opening the door again and slipping out as fast as I could.

　　God, that man was infuriating. A total sleaze. He knew every girl working here needed the money and that desperation was exactly what he used to scare, control, and get whatever twisted thing he wanted.

　　A moment later, the girl he was with stepped out. She couldn't even meet my eyes.

　　"Did he... at least pay you?" I asked quietly.

　　She shook her head, her eyes already glassy with tears, before running off. My hand curled into a tight fist as I stared at the closed office door, anger burning hot in my chest.

　　He had tried intimidating me, too. The only difference was, it didn't work. I wasn't desperate. I didn't need the cash that badly. I just wanted enough money to fly to South Korea, and I refused to ask my mom for help. That was why I was here.

　　The door suddenly swung open, and the bastard finally called me in.

　　Honestly, he shouldn't even be bothering any of us right now. The bar was overflowing with customers, it was a Friday night, after all.

　　He sat back in his chair, and I took the seat in front of his desk. There was already a glass of alcohol waiting, which he grabbed and drank from.

　　"What do you need from me, Sir?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

　　"You know, you're too full of yourself," he scoffed. "Do you really think you're any different from the other girls here?"

　　"I never said that. I'm just not going beyond being a promo girl."

　　Why was I even explaining myself to this demon?

　　He let out a raspy laugh before speaking again. "But what can I do if you're the one the customers keep asking for? It's your lucky night. The VIPs on the fifth floor are looking for you. Big names. You're going to earn a lot."

　　My face instantly lit up. "Really?"

　　"That makes you happy?" he asked with a shake of his head. "I can't give them to anyone else. You're the one they want."

　　If he was telling the truth, then I was about to make good money tonight. I probably wouldn't even need to come in again after this. I was close to reaching my goal.

　　"Hey, get that bottle on the shelf and pour me another," he ordered. I followed him reluctantly. "Grab a glass for yourself, too. We should at least have a little toast."

　　I spotted the clean glasses, took one, opened the new bottle, and poured for both of us.

　　"Treat your coworkers after this, alright?" he said, raising his glass toward me before bringing it to his mouth.

　　I lifted mine and drank.

　　But the moment the liquid hit my tongue, I noticed something—his smirk. And the glass he put back down? Completely untouched.

　　"Shit," I whispered.

　　"What's wrong?" he asked, grinning so wide his gums were showing.

　　Heat began spreading through my body—fast, uncontrollable, frightening.

　　My heartbeat pounded in my ears as he rose from his chair.

　　Shit.

　　This was bad.

　　Really, really bad.

　　I rushed toward the door, knowing exactly what would happen if he managed to grab me.

　　But before I could reach it, his hand clamped around my wrist.

　　"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" he drawled, sliding a hand across my cheek. I jerked away, but he only laughed.

　　His fingers gripped my jaw, forcing my head up. And then he slammed his mouth onto mine.

　　Disgust twisted inside me. I gagged, struggling wildly.

　　We stumbled back toward his desk, and I managed to grab the bottle of liquor—then smashed it against his head.

　　"Ahh! You bitch!" he screamed, clutching the side of his bleeding forehead.

　　I didn't stop there. I kicked him straight in the groin, making him collapse with a strangled cry.

　　I wanted to beat him more, I really did. But the heat coursing through my body was getting worse. Too hot. Too overwhelming. I had to get out.

　　I bolted into the hallway, but I heard him starting to follow. Panic surged through me. I spotted the elevator, wide open, and dashed inside.

　　The doors closed just in time. I exhaled shakily, leaning back. I must've accidentally hit a button, because the elevator suddenly moved.

　　It stopped. The doors opened.

　　With my body burning up from whatever the hell he made me drink, I tugged myself forward until I ended up in front of a random room.

　　My hand landed on the doorknob, barely holding myself up. The door swung open, and I stumbled inside.

　　"Ouch," I groaned. I was about to push myself up when a pair of strong hands grabbed me.

　　"Did the club run out of women already? They even sent their promo girl here?" the man said, sounding annoyed.

　　I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong but he suddenly kissed me.

　　I tried to pull away, tried to explain, but his grip was firm, unyielding.

　　My back hit something solid.

　　A door.

　　Great. Completely trapped.

　　I needed to get out. "Fuck, your lips are ridiculously soft," he murmured—right before he kissed me again, deeper this time.

　　"S-Sir, wai—"

　　I couldn't finish. I couldn't even breathe properly. The drug in my system was taking over, drowning me in heat and hypersensitivity.

　　Why did I ever trust that demon of a manager?

　　"Ahh..." A helpless sound escaped me when the stranger's hand cupped one of my breasts, his mouth trailing down my neck to my ear.

　　"Fuck... your tits feel amazing," he groaned. "Tell me, has anyone else touched you like this before?"

　　Why was he even asking that? Didn't he know questions like that only made my body feel even hotter—worse?

　　"Has anyone else ever played with these?" he asked again, squeezing harder. His hand was already under my uniform—God, had he slipped it in without me even noticing? The heat of his palm against my skin made my knees weak.

　　"N-No one... you're the first," I said before I could stop myself.

　　God. I must really be losing my mind.