Joseph looked over at his boss, whose glare Joseph could feel as he was serving drinks. He had just picked up a fresh set of glasses for the next table and was heading there now.

While he still had a bit of a sultry look to him still, that was a practiced thing, and the rest of his expression showed his true feelings for his boss before turning back around and putting back on the fake server look.

To the table's credit, they tipped well, were polite, and didn't ask for a lot, but that was a small consolation for Joseph. He did what he needed and took his now-empty tray back to the bartender , checking to see if anything spilled while bringing the drinks over. Luckily, nothing did.

Joseph then walked around behind the bar, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. If this was a month ago, he'd have gotten her number and she'd be screaming his name in pleasure a week later. Now he was ignoring creepy flirting and having a never-ending battle with his corset and his pantyhose. He then looked at the clock. God, it was only three hours in. Three hours, that's it. Damn, he thought, his feet hurt from the heels, his legs needed to breathe from wearing the pantyhose, his corset was too tight, and his boss was still glaring at him.

He was already tired of this, and it was just seven. How he'd make it to midnight he had no idea.