The Harness

I've been waiting for a story idea to pop into my head, and last night, it finally did. I knew that I had to write it, and I ran to my keyboard then to get it all down onto the screen. Check out the Discord to see what prop was the inspiration for this story.

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Pulling up to the warehouse, I parked my truck near the back of the lot and started walking inside, hoping that I could find Peter before my shift started. He’d been a lifesaver in getting me this job, and I needed to thank him for it in person. Ever since my last company went under, I was desperate for anything to cover my rent. I had promising interviews lined up at the end of the month, but my bank account wouldn’t last until then.

This wasn’t the job that I wanted, or really a job that I ever envisioned myself even considering, but a paycheck was a paycheck. Peter had fallen into this gig right after high school, and he’d risen through the ranks, working night shifts and staying well into the afternoon. I’d visited a couple of times, and I’d gotten jealous every time even though I promised myself that I wouldn’t before leaving the house.

Heading inside, I was a bit surprised by the interior, but I guess it was still early- maybe everything looked completely different with the lights turned off. One of the guys pointed me upstairs, and I headed to a small office that overlooked the floor.

“Hey Ian, what’s- what are you wearing?”

Looking down at my outfit, I expected to find a giant coffee stain or something, but I looked normal. Or at least I thought I did.

“I’m dressed how you asked me to?”

“I told you to wear comfortable clothes and to bring a harness.”

“Yeah, I did what you asked.”

“Ian, you… oh fuck. Ian, you didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“Ian, unbutton your shirt…”

“Now? Isn’t it a little early?”

He didn’t even respond to my question- he just repeated for me to take off my shirt which wasn’t that out of the ordinary, I guess. Pulling open the buttons on my black button-down, I fanned it open and placed my hands on my hips, showing off the brown leather harness that was hooked onto my jeans.

“Ian, take your shirt off.”

“Fine.”

I knew this would be happening later, but it still gave me a small rush of cold chills as I stood in front of him now shirtless save for the straps going across my back and down my sides.

“Ian, what the fuck are you wearing?”

For the first time since stepping foot in Peter’s office, I began to question myself a bit. Throwing my shirt back on, I was about to leave when he stopped me.

“Ian, you do know that my club is across town, right? I have Franco running the daily operations there, so I don’t pop in that often. Did you think I hired as a bartender?”

Nodding, the pieces began to fall into place, far too late. I used to tend back in college, and when Peter reached out with a job offer, I just assumed that that had to be it. He’d been running bars and staffing go-go boys almost the entire time that I’d known him. When he asked me to wear a harness on my first day, I realized that since I wouldn’t be dancing on stage, then I must have been behind the bar.

“Did you not know that I also manage a construction company? The bars are just real estate for me now- I make most of my money here.”

“I thought it was just industrial theming with the bar in the back.”

“Ian, this is going to be a manufacturing plant for concrete pavers- there’s no bar here at all.”

His face had that old smile stamped across it, but there wasn’t one on my face. I was mortified, completely and totally humiliated in front of my old friend who had two more jobs than I did and way more money.

“Then why did you ask me to wear a harness?”

“A lifting harness, man. I thought I sent the job description in an email- I was going to have you help unloading boxes out back.”

Shaking my head, I turned around to go back outside and head to my truck before my face fell any more.

“Okay, let me cut you a deal since there was miscommunication on my part. I can pay you for the rest of the week if you just answer me one question. Were you planning on pulling that trick that you used to do back at our college bar?”

Of all the questions that he could have asked, this is the one that I wasn’t expecting. I knew that I could answer him in one word, but that would lead to a second question. Biting the bullet, I did what I knew he wanted.

Back at the old bar, the manager would be drunk before the clock hit double digits every night, and we knew that we could pull a few stunts for extra tips without him hovering over us. Mine was to unbutton the button of my jeans and pretend that I didn’t notice. Throughout the night, my pants would sag lower and lower, and drunk coeds lined up to see more. Nodding over at the tip jar, I’d give them a peek dependent on what bill was dropped into the glass.

In the present, I simply undid my jeans and pulled the fly open to show that I wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath the denim. I was mortified, but when he wrote the check for me in between his laughing fits, I knew that I’d eventually get over it… or at least I hoped that I would.