Deborah Fletcher Mello - A Pleasing Temptation

Bryan nodded. “It’s a pleasure. And I think we’re definitely good to go. I’d love to show you our best.”

“Bryan is our lead choreographer as well as my club manager.”

Kamaya cut her eyes back and forth between the two men. “Then I’d love to see your best,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bryan looked to Wesley for his approval, and then, with a nod of his head, he moved toward the stage, gesturing for the dance team to follow.

“Would you like a seat?” Wesley asked. “I can have a chair brought out from my office for you.”

Kamaya shook her head as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. “That’s not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

Wesley stared at her for a brief moment and then he gestured, pointing an index finger toward the stage.

Music suddenly echoed from every corner of the room. The acoustics were great, clearly demonstrating that some serious attention had been given to the sound system. Kamaya nodded her approval as she suddenly felt her whole body begin to sway with the beat. She didn’t know the song but it had a lush, sexy vibe and she knew a female audience would instantly be engaged. And then the dance team strutted onto the stage.

Kamaya felt her heart skip a beat and then two. She took a step forward as if moving closer would give her a better view when she had the best line of sight in the house, nothing obscuring the stage. The next ten minutes, with three song changes, left Kamaya sweating, perspiration puddling in her creases and crevices as if someone had turned on an inner water faucet and left the water running.

There were twelve men on stage, each one a sight to behold. They all had bodies that were solid steel beneath baby smooth skin, six-pack abs and male model looks. They were a rainbow of hues from the darkest chocolate to the warmest vanilla. They were Black, Caucasian, Latino, Asian and a multitude of mixed races that had them looking like a United Nation’s contingent.

When they were all standing in matching blue and green Speedos, hips and legs moving in near perfect sync as they gyrated to the deep, ravishing beat of the Black Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow,” an actual smile appeared on Kamaya’s face.

Paxton leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Down, girl!”

“Boy, bye!” Kamaya chuckled. She shot Wesley a look, the man still staring at her. “Very impressive. You should all be very proud.”

Wesley grinned. “Thank you. We are. Would you like to see an individual routine? Any of the guys would be willing to perform.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, shaking herself out of the reverie she’d fallen into. “I would like to know how you plan to keep things from becoming too raunchy, in order to establish an upscale image. We do want to maintain a semblance of decorum.”

“None of the dancers will ever expose himself. They will go down to an approved G-string and some penis socks on the main stage, but definitely no full nudity. The costumes are top-notch, well made and artistically engineered. We also have procedures in place for any women who might get out of hand and want to get a little too touchy-feely.”

Kamaya nodded her approval.

Wesley gestured for her to follow as he led them past the stage into the employees-only area. The men were all gathered, waiting to hear from him how well they’d done and if they’d made the powers in charge happy. As she passed, she paused for a split second, giving them all a thumbs-up and a wink. He tossed his friends a look but his attention was focused on Kamaya. He ushered her past the dressing area down a short hallway to another area of the building. Past the closed door was a row of tastefully decorated rooms, each with an oversized recliner, a settee, a coffee table and a pole.

“This was here with the original business,” Wesley said. “There’s another more private entrance at the opposite end of the hallway where we came in. It’s now our VIP area for private dances for women wanting something more up close and personal. Women who are willing to pay for that discretion.”

“We are not promoting prostitution!” Kamaya exclaimed, her incredulous expression moving him to smile. “There will be no happy ending rooms for you and your staff! That’s not happening!”

He shook his head. “No, we are definitely not promoting prostitution and every dancer knows that they will be automatically dismissed if they ever engage in any kind of sexual activity on club premises in exchange for payment. Although what they do after they’re off the clock is not our business and we can’t control it. But there are women willing to pay well for some one-on-one attention. It’s usually that uptight business executive who has to maintain an image even when she’s here, but relishes an opportunity to get buck wild when no one is looking. You know the type. Women much like yourself.”

Paxton laughed out loud at the comment. Kamaya gave him and Wesley a narrowed gaze.

Wesley smiled. “I apologize. That was out of order, but I was only teasing. Trying to lighten the mood.”

There was a hint of amusement in Kamaya’s eyes as her gaze danced with his. She blinked it away, shifting back to serious. “Do not get us shut down by the police’s vice department because your men can’t keep their dicks in their pants. And I mean it. If that ever happens, you may come up short in more ways than one. We are building a brand and an image, and I will not see that tarnished. I don’t think you have a clue what’s at stake.”

Wesley’s stance tensed, his shoulders pulling back as he seemed to grow taller where he stood. He took a step forward, meeting her toe to toe. He stared down into her eyes. “Don’t get it twisted, Ms. Boudreaux, I am fully invested in the success of The Wet Bar. Now, I understand that the franchisor dictates the framework, the basics, but past that, I’m in charge. I’m managing and growing this business. I hire. I fire. I’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. And I’ll dictate how to market and promote every one of my locations. I’m wagering everything I have on making this model work for every franchise that comes after this one. Since I know that you and your bosses want to see me succeed, it will be a win–win situation for all. The happy ending rooms for our female clientele will stay.”

The moment was suddenly tense, the air fraught with energy. The two stood, staring each other in the eye, falling headfirst into the look the other was giving. Each could have easily gotten lost in the other’s gaze. Kamaya suddenly realized that she was panting slightly, the air thick and warm between them. She took a step back, wishing for a cool breeze to blow her out of the reverie she’d somehow managed to trip into. She decided to change the subject, ignoring his last comment.

“We’re putting a significant amount of money into your marketing program over the next six weeks to support your grand opening. I reviewed your advertising campaign and it’s been approved but...” She paused as she gestured for Paxton to pass her a manila folder from his briefcase. “It’s my understanding that you may have worked with a dancer we think should be invited to help motivate the customers and help bring in a crowd. I’m told he was extremely popular and had quite a following. His stage name was Deuce or Deuces, but we haven’t been able to find out anything else about him.”

“Deuce?” Wesley’s face suddenly went blank, his expression unreadable.

She nodded. “He had quite a reputation,” she said, as she flipped through a number of newspaper articles. “But we haven’t been able to find any photos or videos. Seems like he peaked prior to everything being captured on the internet, but the women are still talking about him. If he’s dancing, maybe hire him to be a featured guest performer. If not, maybe he can MC or something. Either way, we think it’ll be good for business.”