by Sasha White
She’s also contacted a web designer who could put together an online store for her. It would take some time to launch the site, but the money left after her fabric spree had been enough to send a deposit to the designer. She needed more sales though, fast, and these ladies were going to be her walking, talking, and dancing adverts.
Things were looking good for Trouble. She’d decided to do the custom orders for the dancers as they came in, and something new for Joey every now and then, but her love was really for lingerie so that was where she wanted to focus.
Kelly handed her the skirt and she went to her sewing machine. As she was sewing it, she realized she hadn’t made herself an outfit in a while. The skirt for Kelly was one she’d like for herself, if she were twenty pounds lighter.
The thought made her pause. She hadn’t thought about her weight or her size in almost two weeks. Since she’d left Kevin.
It had to be because of the phone call from her mother that morning. Judy Jones never actually nagged her daughter. That would be tacky. Instead, she found other, subtler, ways to let Samair know that she was a disappointment.
“Are you eating properly? What about work? Have you found a job yet? Why Joey Kent? I don’t know how that girl supports herself. She doesn’t even work.”
Nothing anyone could say would ever convince her mother that dancing was work. Or that being single, and having a few extra pounds wasn’t the end of the world but something Samair actually wanted.
Val hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d seemed to really enjoy the plumpness of her curves. So much so that when she was with him, she forgot all about her own problems and imperfections.
“Is it ready?”
Kelly’s eager voice broke through Samair’s thoughts. She looked at the short black and red Flamenco-inspired skirt still in her hands. “Yes, go try it on.”
She laughed as Kelly snatched it out of her hands and dashed into the bathroom. It took all of two minutes for Kelly to change, and the outfit inspired more cheers for Samair. Her chest swelled with pride and for the first time she truly believed that she could have success with her own design label. If she worked at it and stayed true to her own vision of things.
* * *
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
Samair glanced up from the sketchbook on her lap. “Huh?”
Whenever Samair sat down with her sketchbook, or in front of the sewing machine, the rest of the world faded into the background and images of sweet, sexy, and even kinky garments took over her brain. It was a good thing when one was trying to start a design label, especially a specialty one like she dreamed of.
After the others had left and while Joey napped, Samair searched the Internet and discovered there weren’t any custom lingerie designers in the city. And the ones that she had found to order online from were super expensive. She could charge a lot for what she wanted to do.
Extremely motivated, she’d started to put down some of the images that had been floating around in her head and hadn’t even noticed Joey was up, let alone showered and almost dressed for the club.
“You’re not dressed yet. Hurry up, I need to be at the club by eleven.”
Samair sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at Joey. “I wasn’t planning on going tonight. I need to come up with some new designs. I’ve got some great ideas, but I need to get them on paper.”
A delicate red eyebrow arched over eye alight with challenge. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to see Val?”
“This has nothing do with him.” If anything, she wanted to see him very much. Her body was warming and softening in all the right places just thinking about seeing him again. “I don’t go to the club with you just to see him. I go because you’re there, and it’s fun.”
“So get off your butt and let’s have some fun! It’s Sat night and three, count ’em, three of the cage dancers are going to be wearing your designs.” She snatched the sketchpad out of Samair’s hands. “You have to come!”
“I have nothing to wear.”
“Bullshit. You have a ton of clothes, and I have a surprise for you that you’ll only get if you come out with us. Be sure to wear something of your own, too.” By the time she was done talking, Samair was in the bedroom rooting around in the closet they shared.
13
They used the back entrance to the club since Joey was a few minutes late. As soon as they were inside, she disappeared into one of the cages and Samair was left wander the club floor. She clutched the silver card holder that Joey had presented to her on the cab ride over and tried not to think about Val.
Not only was the case itself a gift, but it was full of shiny new business cards with Samair’s name, cell number, and a web address on them.
“I bought the domain name and the desiner you were emailing with said she’d geta Holding pageup right away,” Joey told her when she saw Samair’s reaction.
Her throat tightened and she thanked God that she had Joey in her life. A friend who accepted her as she was, and encouraged her to chase her dreams. Sweetheart that she was, she’d not only had the cards made up, but the card holder was engraved with one word.
Trouble.
Just knowing that the thing people had always considered about her was the thing that was going to make a success brought forth the vital energy from deep within. The pulse pounding music and atmosphere seeped into her veins and Samair fought the urge to dash into the middle of the dance floor and start handing every person there a card.
What the hell? Why fight the urge? Trouble was the name, and the crowd was her target clientele.
* * *
Joey waved at Rob and Tara, who were sharing the main cage as she climbed into number four. Tara had her new outfit on and was looking hot and sassy next to Rob, who wore only leather pants. His shirtless chest gleamed in the colored strobe lights and she wondered how he could dance all night long in leather pants.
Joey’d done it once, and swore she’d never try again. Sure, she’d made almost three hundred bucks that night, but the pants had chafed so badly her inner thighs were raw for a week.
Okay, time to switch gears. She closed her eyes and focused on the music. In seconds her blood was humming and she was shaking her ass in time to the frenetic beat. When she danced it was all about feeling. Her mind went blank and thoughts of screaming kids who didn’t want to be in a dance class, and the parents that made them attend, floated away on the music.
In her mind she was one with the music, it told her how to move, how to entertain, how to seduce. It told her that everything was going to be all right. All she had to do was believe, and never give up. It told her that one day the dream would be real and she’d be dancing on stage in a movie, in a video, on tour with Janet Jackson.
Anything was possible as long as she never gave up.
A tingle of awareness made the hair on her arms stand up and she looked around, spotting a lone man about fifteen feet away, watching her.
He was dressed in dark gray slacks and a silver button-up dress shirt. Not typical wear for the crowd at Risqué, but it suited his slicked-back hair and trimmed goatee. People watched her all the time, she loved it. She thrived on it. But this guy’s gaze was different. More intense, and slightly creepy. The music changed again, shifting to a medium speed, sing along song and Joey tore her eyes away and focused on the crowd. It was time to get them revved up. If the guy made any sort of move on her, the bouncers would be quick to kick him out on his ass. Harassment wasn’t tolerated kindly at Risqué.
She danced and sang and made eye contact with as many people as she could. When the song ended she spun around and found the intense starer at the edge of her cage holding out a business card. She almost ignored him, but his words stopped her in her tracks.
“I’d like to offer you an audition,” he called out.
“An audition?” She took the card from his hand. It read Carl Raisen, Raisen Productions and a phone number.
A producer wanted to offer her an
audition? Just like that? She bent down and gave him her best Don’t bullshit me look. “An audition for what?”
Carl shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m doing a music video for a well-known rock band and I think you’d be prefect for the female’s part. It’s not a huge part, but if you do well, there could be more work in it for you.”
Joey wasn’t stupid. The world was full of creeps, but stories of super models discovered in shopping malls zipped through her head. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the break she’d been waiting for. “What band is it?”
“Give me a call next week to set up an appointment, and if you ace the audition, you can meet the band.” He gave her one last look up and down before giving her a wink and walking away.
She stood up slowly, still trying to absorb what had just happened. She folded the card in half and tucked it into her bra, right next to her pounding heart. Holy shit!
After searching the crowd Joey saw Samair on the edge of the dance floor handing out her business card and pointing to the her and Tara and Kelly. The girl was working it. Going after her dream.
She threw her head back and let out a rebel yell. They were going to make it, the two of them. She just knew it.
* * *
“Do I get one too?”
The husky voice in her ear sent tingles to all of Samair’s pleasure points. She turned away from the girls she’d been talking to and handed Val one of her new business cards. “You can have whatever you want, baby.”
“Isn’t that my line?” His lips curled up on one side.
“You won’t share?”
“Don’t pout, little girl. If you really want to give me what I want, I can guarantee it’s more than piece of cardboard.”
Her temperature kicked up a notch and she pointed to the phone number on the card. “Just call this number, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“Custom costumes and lingerie.” A dark eyebrow winged upward. “You’re a designer?”
Pride whipped through her. “I am.”
He cupped her elbow and led her over to an empty space in the corner near the bar. “The card only has your name and phone number. You work for yourself?”
“I do now,” she said, leaning against the wall casually. “I just decided to start my own label last week. The day after I met you actually.”
“Why’s that?”
Samair gazed at the man in front of her. He was close to ten years older than her, definitely tough and mature and ubersexy. And there was real interest in his dark eyes.
“I used to work in a little boutique as a sales girl while I went to school. It was great because I could take design classes, learn the business side of things from my boss, and at the same time, she let me do alterations for customers to make the clothing suit their bodies better. Everyone was happy.” She shrugged and flashed a casual smile. “But things changed and the new boss was a complete control freak. She didn’t like me giving honest opinions to the customers if it meant they might buy the less expensive outfit and shit like that. So I quit.”
“And decided to start your own design business.” He nodded, respect clear in his expression.
A big guy wearing a tight black T-shirt with Risqué embroidered on the sleeve stopped next to Val and said something softly to him. Samair stepped back and watched them, the music and chatter of the club making it impossible to hear what they were saying. She didn’t need to hear them, though. The bouncer was pretty hot and the view alone was enough entertainment.
Well built, with muscles on his muscles, a nice tan, and a firm, round ass, he looked like he should be wearing nothing but a bow in the fireman’s calendar. She imagined unwrapping the bow and a little tingle went through her. Damn, she was horny. It was like her body needed to make up for the time she’d spent faking it with Kevin.
Val nodded at the bouncer before stepping forward to focus his attention on Samair again. “Did you make this?” He ran a fingertip along the top edge of her corset, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Breathe, she told herself. No jumping his bones in the middle of the club. “I did.” She had to get him up to his office.
“It suits you. Very sensual, but with a tinge of innocence. Do you realize what a turn-on that combination is?”
She licked her lips, struggling to calm her heart rate. With every husky word, he inched closer. She shifted with him until her back was flat against the wall, and the crowded room disappeared behind his broad shoulders. Things were heating up fast. Again.
She toyed with a button on his dress shirt. The one right above his belt buckle. “What else turns you on?”
“I’d like to—”
“Sammie! Oh my God! You’ll never guess what just happened!” Joey ran right up to them and grabbed Samair’s arms, dancing around.
Shit! She was never gonna get any at this rate.
Joey glanced at Val, who’d straightened up and taken a step back from the girls. “Sorry, to interrupt. But a guy just came up to the cage and asked me to audition for a part in a music video he’s producing!”
“Whoo hooo!” Samair gave her friend a hug. Joey was practically vibrating with happiness and Samair’s heart filled to bursting for her. This was much more important than sex. “This is it, girl. Your big break. Soon you’ll be able to tell everyone you were discovered while cage dancing at Club Risqué.”
“The guy just approached you while you were dancing in one of the cages?” Val’s voice was soft.
“Yeah. I saw him watching for a while, but well, that’s the whole point of dancing in those things right? To get people watching, then moving. Anyway, after a few songs walked right up and handed me his card. He said to call him to set up an audition if I wanted. Which of course I want!” She rolled her eyes.
Val took the plain white business card from her hand and ran his thumb over the name. “Have you heard of this guy before?”
“No.” Joey’s grin faltered. “But there’s ton’s of video producers around town. Vancouver’s music scene is pretty big.”
I gave Val a stern look before squeezing Joey’s hand. “I’m sure he’s for real. Even if it’s not a top forty video, it’s work, right? It’s getting you out there into the industry where you can make contacts and line up even more jobs.”
“Don’t mind me,” Val said with a self-depreciating chuckle as he handed the card back. “I’m suspicious of everyone. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Excuse for a moment, I’ll be right back.”
They both watched him walk away.
“Okay, I can see why hooked up with him. He is fine, and if he ever looked at me the way he was looking at you, I’d probably burst into flames.”
“Lord help me, that man is seductive.”
They looked at each other. “Do you think he’s right?”
“About the producer guy?” Samair asked. “I think he’s right in that you should be careful, but I also think that you’d be an idiot to not go audition.”
A grin split Joey’s pretty features. “Good. Because I’m going.”
Val returned and directed them to the booth where the dancers usually gathered. There was a bottle of champagne and a tray full of glasses set there. “Congratulations, Joey. I hope this is your big break.”
After sharing a toast with them, he winked at Samair and disappeared into the crowd.
14
Despair was heavy in Val’s gut as he stared at the numbers in front of him.
Three weeks. He had three weeks left to raise fifty thousand dollars. That was over fifteen thousand a week, free and clear of the clubs normal running expenses, and no way to do it. The account pages printed out from his computer weren’t giving him any brilliant ideas, but he didn’t know where else to look.
His head fell back against the chair and he closed his eyes. He needed an idea. A big one. An event that wouldn’t cost him much to put together but would bring in a big crowd with money to spend.
In his mind he pi
ctured the warehouse when he’d bought it. It had taken more than money to turn it into the club it was now. Sex sells for sure, but he’d made sure to keep it classy.
He’d worked the club himself every night. Sometimes he worked the bar, sometimes he’d worked the door. Unable to afford to pay dancers, but wanting to keep the cages as a classy feature and not a trashy fixture, he’d gotten the idea to make the cages exclusive only to dancers who passed an audition. In return for dancing for him, he gave them perks like never having to pay cover, use of the VIP area or private party room for no charge, and occasional bar tabs.
Nothing but pure determination and guts had helped him get Risqué started, and slowly business had picked up. He’d re-invested every penny and kept building and improving Risqué. And it had paid off.
His club was one of the hottest in town. He was bringing in a steadily growing income that would make any businessman proud. Only it wasn’t enough.
The club would’ve been his, free and clear in less than a year at the rate he was going. But it wasn’t enough, Vera had to fuck it up. Spoiled little rich girl that was, she’d taken his leaving her as a sign of war and she was hitting him where it hurt. And it hurt real bad.
What the fuck was he going to do?
The sharp peal of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts and he snatched it off the desk. Caller ID said Private Number.
“Hello.”
“I’d like to live out another fantasy, please.”
Samair.
He eyed the papers spread across his desk. The numbers weren’t going to change on their own, and he really shouldn’t let himself get distracted.
“Val?”
Maybe a little distraction was just what he needed. Something to rejuvenate his fighting spirit. “You called the right man.”
Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang and Val glanced at his watch in surprise. She was on time. He put the unopened beer in his hand back on the shelf, and closed the fridge.
