A Pleasing Temptation. Deborah Fletcher Mello

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      Wesley nodded, shooting Kamaya another look. “So, Ms. Boudreaux, how long have you owned...”

      “I don’t,” she said, interrupting the question she felt coming. “We just represent the owner’s interests. We work for The Michelle Initiative,” she said, the little white lie spilling easily past her lips as her stare gestured toward Paxton.

      “Oh, my apologies. I misunderstood.” Wesley nodded. “Well, why don’t we take this conversation to my office,” he said.

      “Why don’t you give us a tour and update us with the status of your renovations,” Kamaya ordered. Her tone was brusque and all business. She turned and moved toward the bar area, her gaze still dancing from pillar to post.

      The two men cut their eyes at each other. Paxton shrugged “I report to her,” he muttered under his breath.

      Wesley nodded in understanding as he turned to follow the beautiful woman. “Structurally, we’re done with the renovations. There are some minor issues with the tile in the women’s restrooms that need to be addressed and I’m assured that they’ll be resolved before end of business today. We are on schedule for our last inspection tomorrow and I anticipate we’ll have our certificate of occupancy immediately after.

      “Tables and chairs will be delivered later this week and the bar will be in place this weekend. The sound system and kitchen are all up and ready, and the interior designer will be here on Monday to add the final decorative touches to all of our guest spaces. We have a team of sixteen dancers who are ready to go at a moment’s notice and our waitstaff will have three days of orientation training early next week. We are on schedule to open doors next month to a by-invitation-only crowd, and I’m confident that we will open to much success.” He took a breath and then he continued.

      “All the plans are detailed with respect to the decor and staffing if you’d like to review them. I’ve also printed out the budget and my preliminary forecasts. The numbers are good. They’re even better than what I projected in my initial business plan.”

      Kamaya gave him a slight nod of her head. “It sounds like you have everything under control, Mr. Walters.”

      “Please, call me Wesley or Wes. Mr. Walters is my father.”

      Kamaya smiled. His thick Southern accent was deep and rich, only lacking the soundtrack to make his words as sultry as country crooner Chris Young’s love songs.

      The two were suddenly interrupted as Bryan Lackey moved between them. “Hey there, sorry to interrupt,” he said, his grin canyon wide, “but the guys are ready when you are, boss man.”

      Wesley smiled. “Kamaya Boudreaux, Bryan Lackey. Bryan, Ms. Boudreaux is a member of the franchise team. She’s here checking that we’re ready to go next month.”

      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 СКАЧАТЬ