Excerpt from Gene Genie
At this door Bruno was God. His was the only law that mattered. He was the final arbiter of fashion. He was judge and jury, there was no court of appeal.
He had just admitted a large group of chattering young girls. He knew that each one of them was a schoolgirl, and the way they were dressed each fell securely within the category of jail-bait.
He wondered why it was that they had never looked like that while he was at school. But then these English girls were much more curvaceous, they were far more outgoing, put much more out on show, and were very much more available than he could remember from his own schooldays.
However the club was keen for him to let in any good-looking, well turned-out, young girls. It didn’t matter if they were under age or not. It was their being here that would bring in all the guys and, of course, they would bring their wallets. It was a tough call when a pretty girl turned up with a ‘minger’ mate, but heh, that was all part of the job.
As he looked at the last girl disappearing into the club, he couldn’t help ogling her low-slung jeans that did absolutely nothing to conceal the lacy T of the top of her thong. But he turned away on hearing a strange noise. This was when he first noticed the little fellow, standing there in the shadows across the street.
Initially he thought he must be there waiting for someone else, but progressively Bruno realised that he was just a little too engrossed in the line that was snaking away from the door of the club. Bruno kept an eye on him and assessed that the little guy was particularly interested in any couples that were slobbering over each other while they waited patiently, and in some cases pointlessly, for Bruno to decide whether he would let them in.
Bruno loved that part of the job, the absolute power he held to make or ruin an evening; and it was all decided completely at his whim. As a migrant Pole with a heavy accent he found he usually got little respect from the locals despite his intimidating size. But it didn’t matter how much they pleaded, or offered him bribes, or claimed a friendship with the owners, or suggested that they knew the DJ or one of the bar staff. Here at the door was his realm; who actually got in was his remit. They had no choice, they had to wait on, then accept his decision.
He and Jimmy would often invent special ‘rules-du-jour’, as Jimmy called them. So one day, and for no good reason, perhaps they’d decide that the girls had to have something red on them to get in. Bruno found it startling how many of them were fully prepared to lift their skirts to show their underwear and prove that they could meet that condition!