Page 25 of Solomon’s Temple

I never trusted them enough to let them in, but Solomon was different, and not just because of his walk with God.

I opened my locker to retrieve my purse and lunch pail when I heard the door open.

Deacon appeared in the doorway, looking at me, before closing us both inside. Considering we were the only ones in here made me slightly uncomfortable. The cameras in the break room had been out for over a month, and with his wife not being here for the past two days, Deacon made it his business to be in the faces of all the women in the facility, specifically me and Paola.

“Clocking out?” he asked me, walking over to the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup.

He never came in here to get coffee.

“Yup,” I replied. He didn't say anything else as I closed my locker and locked it back. “See you tomorrow.”

I headed toward the exit when he stopped me.

“Hey. I just wanted to tell you how well you've been doing over the past week. Your attendance has improved, and if you keep that up, I can make sure you get a raise next month.”

I smiled. “Wow. I could definitely use one.”

“I’m sure you could.” He smiled at me, but his words didn't quite land like he may have thought. The sarcasm behind it made me side-eye him before continuing my stride to the door.

“Have a good day.”

“Hold up,” he said, grabbing my arm lightly. “My, uh, buddy is coming into town this weekend, and uh, I wanted to throw him a surprise party. Do you think you and a couple of your girls from the club could come do a private party for us?”

I blinked a few times, truly baffled by what he asked me. No way did he know about my night job. I kept the two separate for a reason, and anytime I worked, I made sure to disguise myself for this reason alone.

“I-I'm not sure what you're talking about, Mr. Deacon.”

He smirked at me. “You do. Temptress.” He pulled his phone out, opened it up, then turned it toward me. There was a video of me on stage wearing a silver thong, glittered pasties, a silver wig, and blue contacts. Normally, I could deny it, but the video was too close for me to lie.

“W-where did you get that?” I stuttered. I'd never seen him inside of Lucid.

“It's amazing what you find on the internet, right?” He chuckled. “My son posted it on his Instagram, and when he zoomed in on your face, I immediately knew it was you.” He took a piece of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “No need to be ashamed. My friends and I are willing to pay top dollar to see you move like that.”

I knocked his hand away from me and glared at him.

“I'm sure your wife would love to know about you propositioning me for your little dance party. Or maybe she'd like to know how you flirt with the other staff of ladies here and me as well,” I threatened.

He laughed sarcastically and humorlessly.

“Tell her. I promise you will be the only one who suffers if you do. You’d be working at that club full-time, with no promises of a better future. I’m willing to pay you four thousand upfront for your services and introduce you to men who don't mind spending, and you're going to turn it down, for what? Pride? Dignity?” He laughed again. “You lost that the moment you took off your clothes and climbed that pole, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“When?” he asked, sipping his coffee while looking at me over the rim of his cup with that stupid, humorous look in his eyes.

Rage burned me, and before I could stop myself, my hand flew, knocking the drink in his face, and I watched it spill on his expensive-ass shirt.

“You bitch!” he yelled, looking angered and shocked that I could be so bold.

“Fuck you, you bastard. You and your Patrick-shaped ass wife!” I stormed toward the door. Before I made my exit, I pivoted and looked at him. “And I will be going to HR, you perverted bitch!” Then I stormed out, hearing him spew curse words as I hurried down the hall.

“Hey, Temple. What happened?” Paola asked with Rita flanking her side.

“I quit. Fuck this place.”

“Wait. What happened?” Rita asked.

“Nothing. I refuse to be sexually harassed any further.”