Business with Pleasure

by Mia Madison

  Business with Pleasure

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  1. Blair

  2. Cam

  3. Blair

  4. Cam

  5. Blair

  6. Cam

  7. Blair

  8. Cam

  9. Cam

  10. Blair

  11. Blair

  12. Cam

  13. Blair

  14. Cam

  15. Blair

  16. Cam

  17. Blair

  18. Cam

  19. Blair

  20. Cam

  21. Blair

  22. Cam

  23. Blair

  24. Cam

  25. Blair

  26. Cam

  27. Blair

  28. Cam

  29. Blair

  30. Cam

  31. Epilogue

  Forever My Lady

  Bonus Read

  1. Valencia

  2. Valencia

  3. Gio

  4. Valencia

  5. Gio

  6. Valencia

  7. Valencia

  8. Gio

  9. Valencia

  10. Gio

  11. Valencia

  12. Gio

  13. Valencia

  14. Valencia

  15. Gio

  16. Valencia

  17. Gio

  18. Valencia

  19. Valencia

  20. Gio

  21. Valencia

  22. Gio

  23. Valencia

  24. Gio

  25. Valencia

  26. Gio

  27. Valencia

  28. Valencia

  Epilogue - One Year Later

  About the Author

  Also by Mia Madison

  1

  Blair

  “You’re beautiful.”

  The man eyed me lustfully. He belched as he lightly punched his chest and downed the rest of his beer. The rancid stench of digestive acids and cheap ale filled the immediate area. It took everything in me not to retch.

  Strip club patrons weren’t always the classiest. I was realistic enough not to expect a silver fox of every client. But this guy was way over the line of tolerability.

  He was in his mid-40s and had the whole overweight trucker thing going. He fit the profile from the dirty hat and dingy white shirt to dirty jeans with stains that almost looked built into the fabric.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” I stood before him in a black bikini with a matching sarong and 6 inch platform heels. “Would you like a dance?”

  “How much?”

  “$25.”

  He shook his head. “I can do $10.”

  “Aw, honey. The price is the price.” I licked my lips. “You sure about that?”

  I knew better than to negotiate. My price was the bare minimum I would accept tonight, and it was low enough seeing as it was a Tuesday night.

  “$15 is the best I can do.” He folded his arms. “Take it or get out of my face so I can watch the stage.”

  Belligerent prick.

  “Enjoy your night.”

  I smiled sweetly, biting my lip as I silently walked away, and mentally soothed myself. Thank God for small favors.

  He looked like the touchy-feely type, the kind to try and break the rules and make you work for every tight-fisted dollar he’d given you.

  I may have probably smelled like belly lint and pickles once I was done with him.

  I was a normal girl. I lived a pretty normal life. So how did I end up stripping at a local club to pay for college classes?

  Well getting average grades in high school meant I barely qualified for financial assistance in college. My mother had given me the $8,000 she saved over the years for college, and that was gone by the first semester. Her credit was poor, and therefore she had no way of cosigning a loan for me.

  After working several retail gigs, I was empty-handed until my friend Trixie and I saw flyers for amateur night.

  Trixie sounds like the perfect stripper name right? It is.

  Her real name is Trishelle, but she always went by Trixie, even in the club. It just fit. It always has.

  “We should totally do this. The winner gets $1,000!” She handed me the flyer, pointing to the grand prize in neon letters.

  Trixie’s bold and bodacious personality was further enhanced by the fact that she was always addicted to the wild and crazy. The more outlandish something appeared, the more likely it would be to attract her attention and stimulate her interest.

  I’d love to say I was the sensible friend that pulled her head out of the clouds, but that would be wrong. If anything, she only managed to pull me further into the abyss of her wild antics.

  Amateur night being one of them.

  I won first place and Trixie was first runner up. Seduced by the lure of crisp Benjamins and the ability to set our own hours for easy money, we applied for part-time positions and were hired almost immediately.

  We shared a two bedroom apartment close to campus, so our mothers weren’t aware of our jobs. We told them we went to class during the day and worked overnight to cover our tracks.

  Working at the club had its perks. We got to wear sexy clothes and take home cash every night.

  But the job was not without its drawbacks. Flirting with men for money seems fun - until you realize you’re getting paid to get them to get a dance, and not flirt.

  Stripping is about sales; the more you can sell yourself, the more you’ll make. Coming in every night to sell yourself against other girls can be brutal. Nobody wants to be picked apart and discarded for someone the customer finds prettier, sexier, or more appealing than you. But it happens all the time, and you learn to develop thick skin.

  I could go on and on, but the point is the pros ultimately outweighed the cons. I didn’t plan to quit anytime soon, especially not when the money was flush thanks to building up a stash of regular clientele.

  I was headed to the locker room, ready to change outfits as I would be up for the next set, when I heard a loud crash and yelling.

  “You bitch!” That high pitched shriek was signature to Trixie. She was my best friend, but she didn’t have a friendly reputation amongst the other dancers. Her aggressive, outlandish personality stole way too much of the spotlight.

  I picked up the pace in my heels to see who she was fighting. That’s when I walked in to see her with her outfit torn, and hair undone.

  Lena, a tall dancer with short black hair and piercing eyes, stood in the other corner with smug defiance in her expression. Two other dancers separated the both of them.

  “What happened?”

  “This bitch attacked me for no reason!” Trixie was hysterical. She flailed her arms and threatened to kick Lena’s ass.

  “No reason?” Lena shot back. “You’ve been stealing my customers for months. Jack is my regular.”

  “He’s not your regular when he’s begging me to come to VIP every time he sees me.” Trixie smirked triumphantly. “Maybe you should get some extensions and a pair of real tits so he’d want to see you more.”

  An audible, collective gasp filled the room. Lena was beautiful, but not on the busty side. Though her runway model beauty was one of her selling points, it was a clear source of insecurity for her.

  Trixie squeezed her naturally large, plump breasts, and leered at Lena. “Real men love tits!”

  Lena lunged forward, determined to kill Trixie, but was held back by security.

  “Both of you ladies, pack it up!” Kelsey, the locker manager said. “Go home and cool off.”

  “But I just got here!” Trixie whined. “Jack is waiting in VIP for me.”

  She just had to dig further, didn’t she?

  �
��He’ll have to wait for someone else. You’re going home.” Kelsey’s tone made it clear she was unaffected by Trixie’s emotion.

  Trixie and I always came and left together. If she was leaving, that meant I was done for the night also.

  “Come on Trixie,” I opened the locker next to hers and began changing out of my clothes. “It’s been dead all night anyway.”

  I looked forward to leaving. I hadn’t made much and the patrons tonight seemed way too comfortable watching without spending.

  “Give me a minute.”

  She pushed past everyone and stormed off. I knew exactly where she was headed. To Cam’s office. He was the club owner, and he had the final say-so.

  Trixie would probably win this battle. Jack is a regular customer, and there wasn’t anything Cam wanted more than to keep his regulars happy.

  “Everyone get back to work. Lena, you have 5 minutes.” Kelsey shot her a warning glance before walking away.

  The shit talk commenced as soon as Kelsey exited.

  “That bitch should watch who she’s fucking with,” Lena spat to her girlfriends. “She wouldn’t want to end up with a slice on her face. Nobody’s gonna care about those tits if she looks like the Joker.”

  “Hey!” I couldn’t help but to speak up.

  She looked at me with an evil smirk. “Oh, how’s it going Blair?”

  I stared stonily at her, and my stomach clenched at the words. I’ve learned dancers were catty, but that would be a new low. I didn’t want to even think about my best friend being attacked in some manner.

  “Don’t worry, Kitten.” She called me by my stage name. “Nobody’s going after you. You know how to stay in your lane. You look like you taste good too…”

  Lena’s lips parted as she lasciviously flicked her tongue at me. I could feel my cheeks burn. She and her friends cracked up at my embarrassment.

  I wasn’t a prude by any means, but I was definitely out of my element here. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Trixie suddenly re-appeared. “Here, get your things and wait in the car.” She raised her voice enough so the locker room could hear. “Cam’s letting me finish with Jack before I leave.”

  Stunned silence filled the room. Trixie smiled triumphantly as she wiped herself down, reapplied her body spray, and sauntered back out.

  “Bitch.” Lena’s scowl returned.

  2

  Cam

  “Are you really going to let her keep doing this?!” Lena screamed from the other end of the desk. “You can’t let her steal my customers and bend rules in front of everybody.”

  I watched her statuesque frame as she raged on about Trixie taking her customers. To be fair, Trixie hadn’t done anything except show up for work, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to make money. She was young, she was sexy, she was tall and outgoing.

  That’s a hard match to beat when you’re constantly late, usually buzzed, and have a snooty scowl on your face.

  “Alright. I let you have your moment. Now cut it out.” I’d had enough of her whining and bitching.

  Lena was gorgeous. Tall and half-Mexican with a natural dusk to her skin that accentuated her sapphire blue eyes. But even those chiseled exotic features and inky black hair with it’s short precision cut couldn’t keep regulars when she wasn’t consistent and her performance suffered.

  “We’ve spoken about your performance, Lena.” I leaned back in my chair. “You’re skipping shifts, showing up late, and having way too many shots at the bar. Jack likes his ladies clean and sophisticated. Regulars like their dancers always available, instead of missing and shit-faced.”

  “I’m working on it.” Lena pouted. “I told you the past few weeks have been tough on me.”

  She proceeded to give me this month’s breakdown of strife. She had a UTI. Her brother lost his job and moved in with her. Her mother needed money for the rent.

  I couldn’t care less what her issues were. All that mattered was that if she showed up on time and treated her role seriously, we wouldn’t be here arguing about why she lost her regular to a new girl who was always here on time.

  Trixie was tall and vivacious, with long wavy hair. She was Sicilian, so she had that tall and dark exotic look Jack was into. The difference is Trixie was naturally busty. She was built for a centerfold while Lena was built for a runway.

  “If she continues working here, I’m going to quit.”

  “Unfortunate; however that would be your loss.” Threats were ineffective with me. Especially when they came at the hands of equally ineffective employees.

  She huffed, and I’d had enough of her shit for the evening. For the past month, actually.

  “Lena.”

  She looked at me, eyes terse.

  “Listen carefully.”

  I fixed my gaze on her. Dark circles were almost fully veiled under her concealer, but there wasn’t enough Visine for wash out the redness in her eyes.

  Nothing’s more disturbing than a functional alcoholic. This lifestyle is teeming with them.

  “I’ve been letting you slide for the past month. You come in late, you miss work, you’re drunk.”

  Her nose turned up. It was an attempt to look haughty that could have been successful if she didn’t look so worn.

  “Starting fights with the other girls doesn’t solve your problem. It’s not them. It’s you.”

  Her glassy eyes rolled. It was the perfect opportunity to slam down the gavel.

  “You’re suspended the rest of the week. Go home and get your act together.”

  Haughtiness downgraded to instant despair.

  “What?! Cam, you can’t do this,” she pleaded. “I have to pay the rent this week. My car note’s due. I need to work.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time and energy to make up for it next week sober and clear-headed.”

  Watching her cry wasn’t fun. I disliked seeing a woman cry, however this wasn’t without reason.

  Lena’s heavy drinking and mephitic attitude were earmarks of an inevitable disaster. Her suspension would douse her with the ice cold slap of reality needed to end the downward spiral she was on.

  My hand firmly clasped on her shoulder, Lena and I exited my office. We made our way to the locker room, just in time for one of the girls to open the door and bump into us.

  “Watch where you’re going.” Lena growled.

  “Excuse me.” Her tone was quiet, but firmly communicated that she wasn’t anyone’s pushover. I immediately recognized her as Kitten, one of our new dancers.

  She walked past, trailing light, woody scent behind her. It was clean and down to earth, a striking comparison to the thick, sweet, musky fragrances that filled the club atmosphere.

  “Ten minutes.” I patted Lena’s shoulder in departure and turned on my heel.

  My attentions were now directed toward the unassuming beauty walking ahead of me, juggling two duffels on her way to the front. I was captivated by her fragrance, and her figure.

  She wore a blue sweatsuit, with her dark brown hair pulled up in a messy bun. There were light brown highlights at random places along the tip, indicative of a style she’d grown out. It reminded me of rich espresso with swirls of caramel.

  For the most part, Kitten flew under the radar. She didn’t get into trouble with the other dancers, and stuck close to Trixie. They’re friends or something.

  She walked past the bar and towards the side exit, where most dancers left when they were going home.

  “Leaving this early?” I asked. “It’s only 10 PM.”

  She turned, eyes widened in alarm. She didn’t think anyone would notice her.

  “Trixie’s done after her VIP,” she said. “I’m waiting for her in the car.”

  “Is your shift over?” There was a sense of challenge in my voice. I didn’t like dancers cutting out of shifts. It was a sign they weren’t serious about their jobs.

  “She’s my ride.” She shifted her positioning, still poised to leave, yet adjusted just enou
gh to indicate her full attention on me. “I can’t go home without her.”

  Hmmm. She was different, a straight shooter. Her tone was professional, completely free of drama. She didn’t have to shift her eyes around when she spoke either, nor break out the puppy eyes to get herself out of trouble.

  I assessed her as I thought of a response. She possessed an understated beauty. Clear skin with light sheen to it, small but pouty lips, and a heart shaped face.

  Taking her in made it clear. She wasn’t like the other dancers.

  She didn’t belong in a place like this.

  “Trixie’s VIP just started. She’s not going to be done for at least another hour.”

  “I’ll wait for her in the car.”

  I looked at my watch. It was too dark for that porcelain face to be waiting outside, especially in an area like this. This wasn’t a slum, but it certainly wasn’t the most friendly part of town.

  “No.” I slid the handles of both duffels off her arms and into mine. “You’ll wait in my office.”

  3

  Blair

  “You’ll wait in my office.”

  It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

  He didn’t give me time to think. He slid the duffel bags off my shoulders, careful to retrieve them without being too rough or making inappropriate physical contact with me.

  Cam tilted his head back towards the general direction of the club. “Ladies first.”

  I blushed as I said, “Thank you.”

  Chivalry wasn’t dead. It was alive and well-practiced, but the men who appeared to employ it seemed few and far between these days, especially if they were my age, from 18 to 22.

  Having Cam take the weight of those bags off my shoulders seriously turned me on. Escorting me to his office instead of letting me wait in the parking lot was also sexy. It exposed me to the protective gentleman lurking beneath the silent club owner exterior.

  I hadn’t dated in a long time because my standards included a solid non-negotiable sense of chivalry. Going on dates with men who didn’t open doors and wanted you to pay half and then sleep with them convinced me dating was a waste of time.

 
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