Chapter 73

Each of the three times Emily King had come to the Blue Rose, the outside of the building had looked different to her. The features hadn’t changed. The windowless building with its blue-painted wooden walls might arguably be rose-shaped, but it was asymmetrical. The club proper was nearly circular and the owner’s tier both curved around and rose above one side of the main room. The only signage indicating what might be happening inside was a large black circular shield with a stencil-style image of a woman’s white face smelling a rose painted in the same color as the building.

The first time Emily had been here, she’d been a patron. It had been her first trip to a strip club. She’d arrived at night with her billionaire boyfriend and been treated as a VIP. The place had seemed to promise good, sexy fun. The second time had been in the afternoon and Emily’s status had been a strange one. Violet, one of the two managers, had agreed to teach Emily the basics of stripping and pole work as a personal favor, but it had also been an audition of sorts. The way Violet had described it, she’d wanted to see how well Emily moved in order to decide “where she would fit into the show.” Emily had understood that was Violet’s gentle way of warning her that, if she were hopeless enough, there might be no role at all.

Emily suspected that even if she’d been total rubbish at moving her body, there would have been some role for her in tonight’s show. Violet had made some comment yesterday about “wanting to get back into Nick’s good graces” without explaining how she and Rosie had fallen out of Nick’s good graces in the first place, but her comment had suggested that regardless of skill level, Emily would at least get a chance to go on stage in front of an audience and show herself off.

As it turned out, after being put through her paces for three hours yesterday afternoon, Emily had been declared a “pretty good dancer” and told to return at seven this morning to work on the choreography for tonight’s show. At seven in the morning with the September sun barely in the sky, the Blue Rose could have been a nondescript branch of some family-friendly chain restaurant. Even so, looking at it gave Emily a flutter in her stomach. For today, the Blue Rose was both where Emily worked and where she would show off all of herself at once. This was her first day on a new job. Even knowing it was almost certainly her only day dancing at the Blue Rose didn’t quell her nervousness much more than trying to remind herself that she’d been nearly naked in public dozens of times already.

When Emily had come down for breakfast at five, Joseph Stone had been waiting to join her. Joe was eager to watch how the Blue Rose put a burlesque show together and Nick had secured him an invitation to do so. Emily had been surprised to learn that listening to Joe chatter about the history of stripping, burlesque, and a host of other related topics actually helped calm her nerves. Joe was a little bit like Inez Rodriguez-Stone might be if she’d been born into a multigenerational stripping dynasty instead of the Stones.

As the limo pulled into the nearly-empty parking lot outside the Blue Rose, Joe peered out the window at the oddly-shaped structure. “This is the place?”

Emily nodded. “This is the place. It doesn’t look like much first thing in the morning, does it?”

Joseph looked back and forth. “I like it. It’s understated and classy. It doesn’t try to force you to walk in smiling.”

Emily wasn’t sure what he meant by that and, while she was curious, she decided not to ask. Riding here with Joe, she’d come to discover that he was a charming mix of naivete, idealism, and unique perspective. But, she’d also discovered that he could use a lot of words to answer what seemed like a simple question. Instead, as she climbed out of the car she said, “Well, I plan to walk in smiling anyway. Considering how much trouble they’re going through to make me happy, I should at least show it.”

Joe smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m actually kind of focused on trying not to grin like a lunatic the whole time. This is pretty awesome.”

Emily considered trying to warn him to temper his expectations. Today was going to be a lot of hard work and would only resemble a strip show in the way that a blueprint resembled a house. But, that was probably what had Joe so excited in the first place. He hadn’t seemed any less dazzled by Emily herself this morning even though her hair was down, she wasn’t wearing makeup, and had come to breakfast dressed in sweats and a hoodie.

Inside, the club was well-lit and largely empty, the opposite of how Emily had first seen it. There were fewer than a dozen women sitting on the bar stools that lined the edge of the stage. Rosie and a man in improbably high-heeled boots and with a rose clenched in his teeth were up on stage doing what looked like an exaggerated tango without music. As Emily and Joe approached the stage, the couple finished what they were doing and the man turned to face them, “Hey, girl! There you are!”

Something about his voice combined with his face clicked. The last time Emily had seen him, he’d been wearing a tuxedo and had his hair slicked back. “Nunzio?”

He threw his head back and laughed expressively. “In the flesh. But, when it’s just us girls, you can call me Sal.”

“Or Sally when he’s being a bitch.” Rosie playfully swatted him on the ass. “You ready to get started?”

“Absolutely. We’re not late, are we?” Emily asked.

“Nope, you are right on time. We’re reviving some old set pieces tonight and wanted to make sure everybody remembered their moves,” said Rosie.

“Some of us have never seen these moves before. We might need to see them more than once,” protested Rada.

“Well, get up here then,” Sal gestured her up.

While Sal and Rada went through the exaggerated tango, Rosie came down from the stage to meet Emily and Joe. “We’ve got a ton to get through today and a lot of it depends on what you can already do. Violet says you’ve got some good moves already, but we’re going to want to teach you as many new moves as you can pick up as quickly as possible. Are you ready for this?”

Emily nodded. Rosie said, “Okay, we’re going to focus on your floor moves, keep the pole work to some light stripper stuff. Violet says you’re too soft for the athletic tricks.”

Emily blinked. “I am? I thought I did all right.”

Rosie stepped around behind Emily, wrapped an arm around her, and laid a hand flat on her stomach. “You’ve got good muscle tone, but it’s still a feminine kind of muscle. That’s not a criticism. Violet’s soft; I’m hard. Prudence is soft; Rada’s hard. To do the really athletic tricks, you need the musculature of an athlete, but if we put too much hard muscle on stage at once, straight guys start to feel weird about it. You always want some soft girls up there with the hard ones so the men have something to blame their erections on. You’ll see what I mean by athletic pole work later this morning.”

Joe turned to Emily. “Pole athletics actually have a whole other life apart from the erotic. The pole is a very versatile piece of athletic equipment.”

Rosie looked at Joe for the first time. “You must be Joe?” When he nodded, she put an arm around his shoulders and said quietly. “Word to the wise, a lot of the girls who dance here chose the Blue Rose because it’s not managed by a man. You’re here to see how a club like this operates, right?” That got another nod. Rosie asked, “You’re not gay, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” said Joe.

Rosie laughed. “Okay, Sal gets a pass because he’s one of the girls, but every time you open your mouth, you’re inviting one of these bitches to take a shot at you. You will learn far more today if you can keep quiet.”

Joe blushed, “I can do that, ma’am.”

“Good man.” Rosie ruffled his hair affectionately. “Once we get the choreography set and the girls are practicing, Violet and I will try to sit down with you for a little Q&A about the T&A business, but don’t call me ma’am. That’s short for madam and we don’t cotton to that sort of thing in these parts. Whatever extracurriculars my girls get up to, that’s their business. The house doesn’t take a cut.”

As Joe followed meekly, Rosie led Emily towards the stage and spoke quietly, “Some of what we’re going to do this morning isn’t for your sake. It’s for the girls you’re going to be dancing with tonight. Nick’s not the first rich guy to want his girlfriend up on that stage in her all-together even if he is by far the richest. They’re going to want to see how you move and that you don’t think you’re better than them before they really warm up to you.” Raising her voice to project to every corner of the room, she added, “Now, Violet told me you’ve got some dance background, but didn’t get too specific. Have you danced before?”

“Not professionally, but I’ve taken classes since I was seventeen - Zumba and Jazz dance mostly, but some ballet for the last couple of years and recently some ballroom,” said Emily.

“Well, shit, that’s way better than I thought. I only found one video when I searched on ‘Emily King dancing’ and it was you sitting on your pretty white ass while Pilar Rodriguez set the stage on fire. You two ever... ?” Rosie asked.

“Dance together?” Emily asked, deliberately coy.

“For starters, sure,” said Rosie.

“She’s the one teaching me ballroom,” said Emily.

“Oh, yeah? You ever hit that?” Rosie asked.

Emily laughed, “Are you asking if Pilar and I ever slept together?”

“Sleep can be optional. You two ever make the beast with two backs? Bump pretties? Hug naked?” Rosie asked.

Emily blushed and laughed harder. “If you Googled me, you must already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, probably. But, I’m trying to gauge how prissy you are before I put you on stage and ask you to parade around in just a g-string. Not every gorgeous piece of ass is cut out to be a stripper,” said Rosie.

Emily could see all the other strippers had stopped whatever they were doing to watch her mount the stage and were listening for her answer. She smirked. “Fine, then yes, I have hit that, enjoyed hitting that, and look forward to hitting it in the future. She is a remarkable woman and an extraordinary lover.” She turned to Rosie, “Is that sufficiently un-prissy for me to strip?”

“It’s a start. I might want details later. But for now, let’s get you in some stripper boots and do some grooves,” said Rosie.

“Grooves?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, it’s a game. You do a walk for us, we call out ways for you to change it and see how many levels deep you can go. It’s fun, but it also shows what moves you already have and how many directions you can hold in your head. Once we know that, we can put the whole show together around you,” said Rosie.

“Around me?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, whether you sit on your duff and let the pros dance for you or get out there and shake your tailfeathers, you’re the star of the show tonight,” said Rosie.

Emily had been pleased with Violet’s verdict that she was a pretty good dancer, but hadn’t really thought that qualified her to be the centerpiece of the show. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“That’s eight million Instagram followers ... which I humbly request you alert roughly two hours before showtime to make sure there are no empty seats. We don’t want to disappoint your hordes of fans,” said Rosie.

Emily took a deep breath. She’d actually been hoping to keep this kind of low-key - as much a gift from her to Nick as the opportunity to do this was one from Nick to her, but seeing as the ultimate point was to show off how proud she was of her body to as many people as possible while it still looked as good as it did today, it made sense to promote the event far and wide. “All right, let’s see some boots, but something a little less dramatic than what Nunzio is wearing. If I sprain my ankle again, I will be sitting on my duff tonight.”

“Nunzio would never wear these. He’s a manly man, loves his Oxfords,” said Sal.

Emily allowed her confusion to show in her face. “Aren’t you Nunzio?”

“On the job, yes. Just like Rada is Charity and Samantha is Cane Sugar. Everybody at the Blue Rose is a performer. The bartenders play bartenders, but they also mix drinks. Mark and I play bouncers, but we also keep things from getting too rowdy around here. Even if you’re going to strip as the Fabulous Miss Emily King, you should pick a persona to inhabit while you’re up on the stage,” said Sal.

Emily opened her mouth to answer, but Sal held up a finger. “Not yet. When your inner stripper is born, she’ll tell you her name.”

Emily laughed and went backstage to find some boots that would fit her and be possible to walk in. As a runway model, she’d had plenty of experience with heels and chose a pair of high stilettos with good ankle support. By the time she emerged, the stage was clear. Rosie said. “Okay, walk from the back of the stage to the front and back again for me.”

“Just walk or...” Emily started to ask.

“However you want to start. Treat it like a catwalk if you like,” said Rosie.

Emily did what she was asked, walking with the high-legged gait she used on the IBJ runways. As she was halfway to the back, Rosie called out. “Again, this time snap your fingers on your right hand every time you step with your left foot.”

Emily did, but found it hard not to laugh at the absurdity as she walked. Rosie said, “You can laugh. It’s supposed to be fun,” so Emily did.

As Emily turned to go back, Rosie said, “Sam, what should she do when she steps with her right foot?”

“Head whip,” said Samantha. As Sugar Cane, Sam had been a latex-clad dominatrix. Now, she wore a sweatshirt and glasses.

Emily did her walk again - step, snap, step, head whip. By the third iteration, she found her rhythm and got her hair flying the way she wanted. Rosie called out, “Spot yourself. When you whip your head, focus your eyes on a point in front of you. Otherwise, you’re going to get too dizzy to finish your walk. Try using the gold shield on the DJ station.”

Emily knew about spotting from ballet class, but hadn’t thought about using it here. Once she did, she started to feel more graceful in her movements. She wasn’t just up here learning to be a stripper. She was learning to be a model-ballerina-stripper.

After that, the girls took turns adding moves. Rada added a body roll and Prudence a booty tooch. The walk took longer and made Emily laugh harder, but it also became something of a workout. As she reached the back of the stage, Rosie called out, “Pause. This time, you’re going to do it with your eyes closed and to music. I will be right by your side to make sure you don’t fall.”

Emily turned to ask a question, but Right Said Fred’s I’m Too Sexy blasted out of the DJ station. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped forward. It was terrifying and exhilarating to walk like that without being able to see, but the stage was flat and she could hear Rosie stepping with her. Still, she wished she’d counted the steps before she needed to turn.

She hesitated when she thought she was getting too close to the front of the stage, but heard Rosie step and say, “Forward.” Emily took the next step, got another “Forward,” took another step, got a “Forward,” took another step, then made to take another. A powerful arm wrapped around her waist from behind and Rosie said, “Stop. Open your eyes.”

Emily did and looked down. She was still a good eight feet from the front of the stage, “I had at least three or four more steps. Why did you grab me?”

“Because I’m a handsy bitch and you’re very grabbable. The reason I stopped you is that I want you to look down,” said Rosie.

Emily did and saw a line of bright yellow tape a foot in front of her feet. Rosie said, “That’s the do not pass line. You put a foot over it, you run a pretty good risk of getting grabbed. We run a high-class joint here and we can afford to throw out the assholes, but if we do our jobs really well, even nice guys can be driven to such heights of depraved lust that grabbing a stripper seems like a good idea. Isn’t that right, Joe?”

Joe looked up at being addressed, “Uh, no. I don’t think I would ever do that.”

“Not even if you were really drunk?” Rosie asked.

“I ... don’t drink,” said Joe.

“If you want to run a strip club, you should learn. One of your most important jobs as a manager will be to make sure that the customers feel like they’ve come to a place where they won’t be judged. Being a horny young man won’t be enough. You must also learn to be at least a moderately competent booze hound and a bit of a pervert.” To underline the point, Rosie licked Emily’s neck. Emily gave a surprised and undignified little shriek.

“Ah, we’ve found Emily’s weakness. Girls, everybody come up here and lick Emily somewhere you can reach bare skin. Emily, take off your hoodie so they don’t all have to lick the same spot. That would be unsanitary,” said Rosie.

Emily laughed and reached up to unzip her hoodie, but found Rosie’s hands already bringing the zipper down. The other girls dutifully marched towards the stage, many of them stripping down to their sports bras as they did. Emily felt a surge of alarm, “I’m pretty sure it’s unsanitary wherever they lick me.”

“Okay, but it’s also fun,” said Rosie. “Now, here’s the rules. Each girl is going to lick you once - unless you laugh or shriek again. If you do that, we start all over again. You’ll either learn not to react like that or I imagine Joe will eventually get way more of a show than he bargained for. Ready?”

Emily shifted her arms so that her hoodie fell to the floor. “Can I talk?”

“Yes, but no begging,” said Rosie.

“And are you going to hold onto me like that the whole time?” Emily asked.

“I can think of several other ways I’d like to hold onto you if you prefer,” Rosie suggested.

“Around the waist is fine. Is there a purpose to this exercise or are we just expounding on the idea that a strip club manager should be a bit of a pervert?” Emily asked just as Brandi stepped up and licked her shoulder.

“I’m actually massively overqualified in that department. This is to get you acclimated to being touched inappropriately by the other girls. It’s a bit silly, but I could have them come up and cop a feel if you prefer,” said Rosie.

Samantha had just gone to one knee in front of Emily and had been about to lick her stomach. She paused and looked up. “Yes please?”

“Easy, tiger. Just lick her for now. We’ve got all day to work our way up to groping,” said Rosie. Samantha shrugged and licked Emily’s stomach. Rosie added, “Watch that one. She’s like a teenage boy around beautiful women.”

“I know the type,” said Emily.

“You fool around with a lot of teenage boys before Nick ... and besides Nick, I guess?” Rosie asked.

“I’ve never fooled around with a teenage boy. Nick is a teenage man. I was thinking of our friend Kiki, actually,” said Emily.

“Kiki Sato? She ever lick you?” Rosie asked.

“Pretty extensively, yes. You just startled me. Girls licking me are right in my wheelhouse,” said Emily.

“Ah. Girls, Emily says you don’t stand a chance of getting a reaction by licking her. That sounds like a challenge. Step up your game.” Rosie called out.

Emily was about to protest that she hadn’t meant it like that, but Candi was already tongue-deep in her cleavage. Emily gasped.

“Not so smug now, are you? Should we start over?” Rosie asked.

“That wasn’t a shriek or a laugh. That was a gasp,” Emily protested.

“Fair enough. You’ll need to deal with the possibility of getting turned on when you’re performing too. Do you think you can handle that?” Rosie asked.

“Mmmm...” Emily said, partly in the affirmative and partly because someone had just licked their way up her stomach and dipped their tongue in her belly button.

“Good,” said Rosie just as Rada ran a hand around the back of Emily’s head and licked the underside of her upper lip. Expecting to be kissed, Emily parted her lips just as Rada was pulling away. This gave Prudence the perfect opportunity to step in and kiss her.

“Hey, hey, licking only, virgin girl, no kissing,” said Rosie.

“I was licking her tongue,” Prudence smirked and strutted away.

Emily closed her mouth and took a deep breath through her nose. It was going to be a long day.

The morning after his first-ever threesome, Max woke to a light tapping on his bedroom door. Paige raised her head, “Were you expecting more company?”

“If it’s anybody but Kiki, I vote we send them away,” said Casey. “Kiki, I leave it up to you two.”

Paige shrugged her shoulders. “If it’s Kiki, might as well. I don’t think I can get more debauched than I already am at this point.”

Casey leaned in and kissed her. “Do not say that in front of Kiki. She loves a challenge.”

“Hang on. I’m coming,” Max called out, climbing out of bed. Last night had been a lot of fun and the fulfillment of a puberty-long fantasy even if he and Casey had mostly focused on making sure Paige was having too much fun to chicken out. In fact, that might have been better than the idea of having two women focused entirely on him. It felt like less pressure somehow.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and opened the door a crack. Tanvi was waiting right outside. “Hey, I just wanted to catch up with you for a minute before you go on your morning run. I can wait in the living room if you like.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right out.” Max closed the door. “Shit!”

Casey raised her head. “What is it?”

“Tanvi’s here. She wants to talk to me about something,” said Max.

Paige blinked slowly. “So, don’t you talk to her like every day as seneschal?”

Max rooted in his dresser for underwear. “Well, yeah. But, she doesn’t come here and wake me up early to do it. I must have fucked something up.”

“Or something needs your immediate attention and you’re about to save the day,” Casey suggested.

“Well, yeah, but Max’s idea sounds more likely. You didn’t bang the wrong girl, did you?” Paige asked.

“Not unless one of you or Nadezdha Stone is the wrong woman. Shit!” Max stripped off his sweats and pulled on his underwear. “You don’t think that’s it, do you?”

“Who’s Nadhezda?” Paige asked.

Casey looked around, “I showed you her picture - platinum blonde, late twenties, early thirties. Kind of a cougar. She was Max’s hook-up this weekend.”

“Oh, right.” Paige laid back. “Max, you definitely have a type.”

Max pulled on a t-shirt. “I don’t think I do, actually. In my life, exactly three women have offered to have sex with me and they all just happened to have the same hair color, but I’m attracted to women across the spectrum of race, folliculation, and probably creed, although some religions kind of creep me out.”

“Like Chesa Nel?” Paige asked.

Max paused at running a belt through his pants. “Could we maybe have this discussion when Nick’s terrifyingly efficient assistant is not waiting right outside the door to talk to me, please?”

“Sure, it’s way too early for me to be up anyway.” Paige snuggled back up to Casey and closed her eyes.

Casey gave Max a quick shrug, settled back, and closed her eyes as well. As Max finished dressing, he looked over at them. If he was going to die or be exiled in the next few minutes, at least he could go with the image of his two girlfriends cuddled up together naked in bed - or maybe it would be accurate to call them the two women who probably liked Hall Dunford better than they liked him, but occasionally remembered to visit. Either way, he’d had his cock in each of them within the last eight hours and it was nice to see them getting along so well.

As he emerged from the bedroom, Max saw Tanvi sitting on his couch and tapping away on her ubiquitous iPad. “Hey Tanvi, what’s up?”

“Just a couple of things I wanted to cover before you go running. Do you remember telling someone that the Loft is not the Playboy Mansion? That it’s ‘just the Loft. It’s always been the Loft. It was just sleeping for a while?’” Tanvi asked.

Max froze. “No, I remember somebody at the party asking if it was like the Playboy Mansion. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it definitely didn’t involve the word ‘sleeping.’ Where’d you get that?”

“Today’s New York Post has an article titled ‘Is This the New Playboy Mansion?’ It’s about the Loft and the parties we’ve been throwing here. They’re using your quote to link the place today with the place it was twenty years ago,” Tanvi said.

“No, I ... shit.” Max came around to sit across from Tanvi. “I remember saying the Loft was just the Loft and the girl who asked me if it was the Playboy mansion asked if it was like the Loft used to be in the nineties. I didn’t even know what she meant. I know Colin threw a lot of parties, but I still don’t know the details.”

“Well, the post is full of details if you’re interested. The phrase ‘drug-fueled orgies’ gets used once or twice,” said Tanvi.

“That doesn’t sound like us at all. Our orgies arise naturally without the use of chemicals,” Max said before he could stop himself.

Tanvi pursed her lips, chilling him to the very bone for a moment. Max said quickly, “I definitely didn’t say anything about orgies or sleeping. I just said the Loft wasn’t the Playboy Mansion. It was the Loft.”

Tanvi tapped something on her pad. “Okay, next order of business...”

“Wait, what are we going to do about the story in the Post? Can we get a retraction?” Max asked.

“We can if you want, but I wouldn’t bother. This place’s reputation is already old news and a retraction is just a way to remind people that the story ran. The Post is only good for titillating the masses and wrapping fragile dishes before you ship them,” said Tanvi.

“So, we just let the story run and don’t say anything?” Max asked.

“Unless you or Nick tell me differently, that’s what I’d recommend. Either it’s a slow news day and the Post doesn’t have anything better to sell papers or someone is trying to get the hoi polloi riled up about us. If it’s the latter, we’ll hear about it eventually and deal with that person appropriately. I just wanted to make sure that, when I tell Nick about the article and he asks if you really said that, I can tell him you didn’t and it was just a self-proclaimed journalist putting words in your mouth. What I really need to talk to you about is the coming housing crunch,” said Tanvi.

Max shook his head briefly to indicate the sudden subject change. “The ... housing crunch?”

“Yes, we have three guests arriving today and Nick is bringing at least five more when he comes back from New Orleans. We can double up at least two of them in a single apartment, possibly a second pair. And once Dietrich and Monroe leave for the Grand Tour, we’ll have two more apartments free and another one when Sarah and Guy go home, but we’re either going to have to downgrade a couple of people to rooms, find more accommodations, or convince some of our new guests to hook up with people already living here longer-term,” said Tanvi.

“Wait, I know Nick is bringing Prudence home, but who else?” Max asked.

“Rada Kuznetzov, an SSCS agent who will be sharing a room with Prudence, Violet Dream, one of the managers of the club where Prudence is currently working, Samantha Darling who strips under the name Cane Sugar, and an actress named Ximenia Martin who was temping as a maid at the house Nick is staying at,” said Tanvi.

Max laughed, “Nick went to his first strip club and he’s coming home with two strippers, the manager, an actress, and a new SSCS agent? That’s quite a pull, but I guess it could have been worse. It could have been five strippers.”

“Actually, it’s arguably four strippers and a possible spy. Violet is a retired stripper and Rada has been stripping for weeks as a way of staying close to Prudence and keeping her safe. From what I hear, she may have gone native. We’re also looking into Ximenia’s background to see if there are any obvious red flags suggesting she’s coming here to spy on Nick for Threnody, Malcolm, Arthur Black, one of our allies, or a party as yet unknown,” said Tanvi.

“Well, if she is a spy, at least we would need one less room,” said Max.

“Incorrect. When I discussed Ximenia with Nick, he said he didn’t know if he wanted to sleep with her yet. When we discussed the possibility of her being a spy, he said, ‘If she is, I’m definitely going to want to sleep with her before we decide what else we want to do with her.’” Tanvi said.

“That sounds like he was joking,” said Max.

“Does it?” Tanvi raised an eyebrow.

Max considered the question for a moment. “Maybe not. He is sleeping with Ainsley and you know how that started.”

Tanvi gave a single quick nod. “I do. In addition to our three new guests today, your assistant Luba put in a request for a room on-premise and said you’d approved it.”

“I did. Is that a problem?” Max asked.

“To the contrary, it’s about time. Everybody will be happier if you start making better use of Luba than you have been. Field agents tend to stagnate if they’re not working,” said Tanvi.