Chapter 15

The night wore on as the regular dancers came on stage and did their thing. The three winners seemed to gather at a single table off in one corner and the audience came to them and told them how good they did over and over again. Some offered to hire them for a private dance, but none accepted. Even young Sandy was asked for a private dance, but the WE had to decline on her behalf since she was too young for that sort of activity.

Brent had known it would be a big night for the club and for Darlene. Though he stayed home, he experienced it all through her eyes, watching as the dancers took the stage one by one. When she finally came home, exhausted but exhilarated, he could tell the night had been about more than money—it had been about the contestants, about the show, about something bigger than just another shift at Velvet.

The next day, after catching up on much-needed sleep, Frank sat in his office, poring over the club’s financial records from the past few weeks and months. Since the WE came alive, business had been booming. Entry fees were higher than ever, and the dancers were making more money than they ever had before. The club was thriving, and so was his bank account.

But Frank wasn’t hoarding the money out of greed—he was holding onto it because he knew he wanted to do something more, something bigger for the club. He just hadn’t figured out what that was yet.

Frank, what about expanding? The empty building next door could be renovated as part brothel and part dance club for your dancers. They have been so busy with private dances, you could really use more space for that sort of work. His WE said to him while he was pondering what to do next.

“True. But for how much? I know I have money in the bank, but there is not enough in there for a full building renovation. AND!” He exclaimed, “And, what bank is going to cover a loan to me to expand? I’ve tried in the past, but none wanted to touch me with a ten foot pole.”

His WE was silent for a minute as they pondered with him. It was true that no bank wanted to deal with a club like his—they saw his club as something dirty, something unseemly, a business that didn’t align with their so-called “community values.” They labeled it high-risk, morally questionable, and unworthy of their investment. It didn’t matter that Club Velvet was a legitimate, thriving business, paying its taxes like any other.

Frank exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Hypocrites,” he muttered under his breath. The same bankers who wouldn’t loan him a dime had probably spent their own money in places just like his.

“WE, can you find a private investor for me? I don’t know anyone with large sums of money wanting to invest in a club like mine, but someone out there has the money and bravery to invest in a business like mine.” Frank said, while leaning his head back staring at the ceiling.

Frank, that is a very good idea. We have put together a prospectus that we will file with several private organizations that are private equity firms. As long as your numbers are solid, they don’t care what business you are in.

Frank sat up from his reclined position, there was hope. “Yes please. File away for me.”

The WE did just that. Several international and local equity firms received the files from the WE and after looking at the numbers, three made the trip to his club to scope it out as a final review. All three companies asked that their presence and the reason for their visit not be shared with the owner, they wanted to see the club without influence.

The WE quickly agreed and one by one, the firm’s representatives made a trip to Club Velvet over the course of a week. The WE made sure that the three groups didn’t visit at the same time.

“Good evening. Welcome to Club Velvet.” Spike the bouncer said as the first group of people opened the door to the club. The muted thump-thump-thump of the music from inside was heard in the lobby which simply added to the ambiance of the club.

The group was made of two men and one woman. They walked in, looked around the entry even taking a few snapshots with their phones.

“Everyone, we ask that you don’t use your phones while in the club.” Spike said to them as gently as he could. It was a hard and fast rule for the privacy of the dancers as well as the customers inside.

Sorry, they all said, putting their phone away.

“Thank you. The entry fee is 20 dollars per person.” Spike said, taking their money and making change where necessary.

The group was here to see the club, to evaluate it since they were from one of the private equity firms that had received Frank’s prospectus. Venessa Thornton was the lead on this one. She and her partner, Dominic Hayes, had worked together while at the firm evaluating many companies, seeing if their numbers were legit or not before investing in the company. The third member of the trio was Evan Colby, Venessa’s personal assistant who seemed to have a talent for reading her mind and having what she needed before she even had a chance to ask for it. Now that their WE had connected them for work, this trait was even deeper. He really did read her mind and get her what she needed before she could even ask.

The sound of the club washed over them as they entered the club. The thumping bass, the lights and the cheering crowds all worked together to make them glad they were there. They moved through the crowd, finding an empty table in the middle of the room, but not right up front. Close enough to see everything, but far enough away that they take away from someone else’s enjoyment of the entertainment.

“What can I get you?” A waitress asked them, holding a serving tray smiling broadly at them.

“White wine.” Venessa said, but then changed her order as she realized that wine was no longer on the menu across the world. “Do you serve mocktails?”

“Sure do honey. Some of the best in town.” The waitress said, still smiling.

“Then make something really good, I don’t really care what.” Vanessa said.

“I’ll have a Coke.” Dominic said which Evan mirrored. The waitress jotted down their order with a quick nod, then tottered away, her heels clicking against the floor as she weaved through the crowded tables.

“Seems busy tonight.” Evan said, looking around the room. He was quickly counting the men all sitting around the room, enjoying the dancer on stage, just hanging out with their buddies or whatever. Dominic was watching the dancer on stage. She was average height, but her body seemed compact with arms, legs and back all well muscled and sculpted seemingly out of granite. She was working on the pole, hanging upside down wearing only a pair of panties and nothing else.

Vanessa was also looking around the room. She was looking at the building, not at the dancers, evaluating the room and what potential it held. The room was painted black with mirrors all placed in strategic places making it seem bigger than what it really was. There was a door off in the corner with a sign hanging on it saying ‘STAFF ONLY’ which she found out was for the dancers as one of them walked out of that room while she was looking at it. The woman was wearing a beautiful corset in royal blue with matching panties and stockings in black that were being held up by the corset. She moved with graceful steps as she stepped out from the back and surveyed the room. She and Vanessa made eye contact immediately and the woman smiled at her then started moving their way.

Vanessa quickly looked away then leaned over to Dominic, “We’ve got company coming.”

Dominic looked at her and Vanessa made a head nod toward the woman walking toward them.

“What do you want me to do? Engage or deflect?”

“Engage, I think. We should get an insider’s perspective on this place.”

Both sat back as the dancer came over to them and put a soft hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “Hi. My name is Lola. Can offer you all a private dance?”

“Lola. Hi. I’m Vanessa and these are my friends from work. We’re here from out of town and saw this place and wanted to stop in. Can we buy you a drink for your time if you join us?” Vanessa said, shaking Lola’s hand.

“Sure. thanks. I was going to get one anyway.” Lola said, then sat down between Dominic and Evan.

“So Lola, how long have you been working here?” Evan asked, starting the conversation.

“Just about six months. Shortly after the WE came alive, I started here.”

“Have you done this work before?” Vanessa asked, trying to get more information out of her without tapping her WE for the knowledge.

“Now that is a long story. A long time ago, in a land far, far away, I danced professionally in Vegas. I retired from that, became a mom and never went back. My late husband took good care of me and my son is grown and gone. Now that I’ve, we all have been rejuvenated, I found a new husband who supports me working here.”

All three sat shocked by her story and the complete picture she gave them. “Why here? Why this club?”

“Because it is the only one around.” Lola said, matter of factly.

“Why do you dance?” Vanessa asked as their drinks arrived. The waitress confirmed that Lola wanted a Coke and then left to fetch it for her. Vanessa took that moment to sip at her mocktail and MMM’d as the flavor filled her mouth.

“Oh my gosh that is good. I can’t believe they make this without alcohol.”

“It sure is. I love their Mai Tais.” Lola said watching Vanessa sip away at her drink.

Evan spoke up, “What do you mean this was the only one? Aren’t clubs like this everywhere?”

“Not here. Back when I started, I looked around and found only this one inside the city. There are others, but they are more than an hour’s drive away. I wanted to stay local and not waste half my pay on driving.”

All three of them saw the wisdom in that. They also saw the wisdom of not wasting your money.

“What does your husband do?” Vanessa asked.

“He runs a warehouse. Now that he isn’t dying of a heart problem, he went back to work and is taking a poorly run warehouse and improving it. He is awesome like that.” Lola said with pride.

“What’s the name of the business?” Dominic asked, trying to be innocent about it, but seeing more potential in this town.

“Keystone Logistics, out by the highway. You may have seen it.”

Evan made a silent note mentally to look into this place, even going as far as to search out this man who Lola married that she was so proud of.

Vanessa looked at Even and he made a slight nod of his head answering her unasked question.

“Thank you for the drink, but I’m not making any money sitting and talking. Are you sure I can’t offer any of you a private dance?” Lola said, seeing that this may take a long time and her shift was running out.

“Oh, yes, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” Vanessa said, reaching for her purse and pulling out some cash. “How can I compensate you for being so nice to us? Answering so many of our questions.”

“Fifty would be fine.” Lola said, then took the money from Vanessa. She moved around next to her and leaned over to give her a sensual kiss on the cheek and a whisper of thanks in her ear.

The group all turned and watched her leave. Evan and Dominic all focused on her bottom as she moved away. The string of her thong visible between the cheeks of her bottom as she smoothly moved between the tables talking to the customers, looking for someone who may want a private dance. They watched her find a young man who took her hand and followed her to the back part of the room. They lost sight of her as the music started up and another dancer walked out on stage wearing a sexy nurse’s outfit with a skirt way too short for public or professional use.

Vanessa started running the numbers. The drinks, the private dances, and the money that seemed to rain down onto the stage as the dancer moved—it all added up to a substantial amount.

But how much of it does the club actually keep? she wondered, her mind working through the calculations even as she kept her eyes on the performer.

Shifting in her chair, she crossed her legs and adjusted the flowing skirt draped over them. Her comfortable blouse completed the outfit—going nude, even in a place like this, simply wasn’t her cup of tea. That was when she took note of the room around her. Most of the men had shed their clothes, embracing Rule 8 with complete ease. More than that, she couldn’t help but notice how many of them had erections or were lazily stroking themselves as they watched the dancer’s sensual display.

As the third song ended, the performer strutted off the stage, completely nude, without an ounce of hesitation. But what really caught Vanessa’s attention was the amount of money the dancer collected from the men around the stage. The wad was sizable, mostly ones and fives—her quick estimate put it at around $76, maybe a hundred at best.

She kept watching, observing the flow of business. Dancers returning from the private rooms would stop at the bar, hand over some of their earnings, then disappear toward the dressing area with their arms full of clothing.

The casual nudity of these women fascinated her. It wasn’t just the fact that they were naked—it was how effortlessly they carried themselves, how little they seemed to care that their most intimate parts were on display for strangers. Growing up, Vanessa had never felt that kind of ease. She’d always been a little overweight, self-conscious about her body. To her, nudity was something that happened in the privacy of a shower, a brief in-between moment before getting dressed.

But here, it was different.

The culture of it was foreign to her, the openness startling. And yet, despite everything, there was one undeniable fact she couldn’t ignore: This place made money. A lot of it.

“Evan, Dominic, I think you boys need a private dance.” Vanessa said to her coworkers, as she pulled her purse into her lap and fished out her black card and set it on the table.

Vanessa, the dancers don’t take credit cards. They do take WE money if you intend to pay for their dances. The WE said to her and the men. She picked up her card, slid it back into her purse then looked around for a dancer who may look interested in giving a dance to the guys.

Dominic and Evan scanned the club, looking for a dancer who wasn’t already engaged with a customer.

Dominic’s gaze drifted toward the stage door just as two dancers stepped out together. Both were stunning, both busty, and both dressed in barely-there lingerie. He caught the eye of the one on the left, gave her a subtle nod, and watched as she quickly grabbed her companion’s arm. After a brief exchange, the two women moved toward their table.