Chapter 25

Jack rose to his feet as Melanie approached the table. With her face impassive she focused on his eyes and said, "Well now you know." Even though he was holding a chair for her, she made no move to sit down.

"Know what? And aren't you going to join me?"

"You don't really want me to, do you? Now that you know I've been appearing stark naked in public for years."

Jack was finally able to get Mel seated and then took his own seat again. "You're incredibly beautiful, Melanie Brewster."

Then he looked up and Mel did too. They saw what appeared to be the full complement of performers emerging from backstage to mingle with the audience. Mel's eyes widened and she murmured, "Those bitches! They have a helluva nerve!"

Jack looked at them, too, but his reaction was totally different. "They're all so beautiful! And their attire... ! They're magnificent."

Her pending tirade about nosy friends having been cut off, Mel noticed their dress for the first time. "Oh, yeah ... That's Jill."

"What's Jill?" he asked. Then he added, "And who's Jill?"

"Jill is Jill Barnes, my twin sister," Mel replied. "And you know her, or know of her anyway. I'm sure you know Mike Barnes."

"Her son?"

Mel just nodded.

While slowly shaking his head, Jack remarked, "I didn't know, but that's not what I'm trying to recall. It has nothing to do with the team or with school. It's..." Then his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "It's that new store ... Styles of Lexington, that dominated the news a few weeks ago. That's your sister, isn't it?"

"That's she."

"Okay, back to my original question, Mel: I commented on the girls' attire and you said, 'That's Jill.' What's Jill?"

Mel was studying her hands that were folded on the table in front of her. Then she spoke as if she were thinking out loud, "Look, Jack, let's face facts: To many people nude dancers rank with prostitutes ... and not necessarily higher." Then she grinned and added, "I guess it's sort of funny, really. If we were a modern-dance troupe performing stark naked, we might be getting artistic raves."

Then she snapped her fingers when a thought occurred to her. "That's it! Maybe it would be different if we opened with the whole cast dancing on stage naked. If we looked like a modern-dance troupe, maybe we'd be treated like one!" She smiled brightly at her new insight.

While they had been talking, Mel was no longer looking at her hands. Instead, she had been watching as the performers, while moving among the tables, were repeatedly stopped. And overwhelmingly, they were being stopped by women, not by the men.

"Damn! It really seems to be working!" Then she explained, "You're right, Jack; Jill Barnes owns and operates Styles. She recognized two things: First, our girls are really quite beautiful. Second, almost all of them are veterans of modern dance, gymnastics, or both, so they just naturally move very gracefully."

She grinned and continued, "If you knew more about women's fashions, you'd know that my girls are the best-dressed women on the floor. Each is wearing an outfit Jill personally selected for her, and the women in the audience recognize the fact. The men are staring at their bodies while the women are staring at their clothes. And Styles' business is going to take another jump, possibly starting as soon as tomorrow morning."

Changing the subject, Mel rose from her seat and said, "Come on, Jack. It's time to get out of here before the vultures descend." She had noticed that the dancers by then had their table surrounded and were moving in from all available directions.

Jack was a bit bewildered but followed Mel. Instead of going toward the entrance, she went toward the side, leading the way back to her private office.

When she opened the door, Jack Murphy let out a soft whistle. "Simply gorgeous," he murmured. Then looking at Mel he added, "Melanie Brewster, you and this office complement each other."

She motioned to the sofa and then took a seat on a leather-upholstered chair beside it. "What are you drinking, Jack?"

"Maker's Mark on the rocks."

Mel pressed a button on a device sitting on an end table beside them. Instantly, a waitress appeared, and Mel just said, "Two bourbons on the rocks, please, Jane."

When Jack was unable to control his miffed expression, Mel just giggled. "I'll let you in on a little secret," she said. "It's a little secret that's not really a secret. But since we haven't been open very long, it seems that very few people have tumbled to it yet."

Her smile got even broader as she continued, "You see, our bar bourbon is Maker's Mark. Our house gin is Beefeaters, and so it goes. But the difference is that if a patron orders Maker's Mark, he pays the call-brand price, but if he just orders bourbon, he still gets Maker's Mark, but at the house-brand price. It's true for all our bar liquors: They're all top-selling top-shelf brands.

"And the reason I just ordered bourbon on the rocks is 'cause I'm cheap ... or would be." Then she explained, "You see, years ago when Jill and I first started to be responsible for the performers, we instituted a comp policy. Every month each girl gets a certain number of comps she can use at any time, for herself or for others. But the fact is that they're cumulative: If they're not used, they're carried forward. Well, Jill and I both have so many comps from years back, we're never going to use them. I don't think Jill has ever used any, and I've only used two. And from those two, I got the current star of our show, Liz Dunbar."

The drinks appeared, and only then did Mel remember that she had invited Jack for dinner and it was getting late. She asked for menus. Tom's eyes widened when he realized that his menu had no prices. It just listed the items available, and although it was a short list, every dish sounded great.

The pair ordered and then sipped their drinks. As they did, Mel found herself telling Jack her life story beginning with her seduction at age 12, followed by being thrown out of her house by her parents and the aftermath. As she told it, she noticed Tom's eyes tearing, and before she finished, he was crying unashamedly. She stopped just before the Christmas Prom and their move out to Bluegrass Farm. She finished and just looked at him.

"What about your parents now?" Jack asked. "After all, 'To sin is human; to forgive is Divine, ' or something like that. What about it?"

"Before a person can forgive, the other must admit he or she did something wrong. As far as I know, to this day my parents are convinced they did the right thing."

Jack just slowly shook his head and changed the subject. "You know, I had your son — and the Four Musketeers — for both history and civics for the first semester. That was really something else."

"In what way?" Mel asked, puzzled.

"Without question, those were the finest classes I've ever conducted. In both, it was a five-way running debate with the rest of the class sitting in utter amazement. The remarkable thing, though, was that the rest of the class actually learned something. At the end of the term, the two classes got the top grades ... and, of course, the Four Musketeers all got grades of A+."

Looking into Mel's brilliant blue eyes he continued, "Of course, as you know, this term the kids are taking history at the University. And that's funny, too."

"In what way?" Mel repeated.

"First, Mel, I'll let you in on a dirty little secret in academia: While many high schools offer Advanced Placement (AP) courses, the reality is that many colleges and universities give the kids only a fraction of the advanced standing that they've really earned. Well, I hear that happened to your son and his friends, too. Or it did for a while, at least. But then the Powers That Be at the University wised up.

"After absolutely blowing away both the instructors and their classmates in survey history courses, they were moved into far more advanced courses. I guess it must have been funny. Like so many universities, the basic courses are taught by TAs (Teaching Assistants) ... and the kids really chewed them up; they already knew far more about the subject matter than the TAs did."

Their dinners appeared and Jack was impressed with its quality and preparation. Mel then explained how the menus had been set up by a graduate nutritionist. "Furthermore, the recipes are hers, too. She's also a diplomate of the Cordon Bleu School in Paris."

Jack let out a soft whistle.

While they ate, they continued to get acquainted. It was Tom's turn to tell Mel about his life in the Rangers. And, like so many heroes, he made light of the dangers and what he had done. As the topics widened, Jack realized that there was nothing he could bring up that Mel couldn't talk about in depth, whether it be history or professional football.

As they finished their dinners, the sounds of the second show were heard coming from a small ceiling speaker. And at the same time, one after another, the on-stage talent knocked and entered ostensibly with a question for Mel that just couldn't wait. Of course the real reason — of which Mel was very much aware— was to meet Jack Murphy.

Finally, when the sixth girl entered, a thoroughly exasperated Mel threatened, "If you girls don't leave us alone, I'm going to ask Jack to take you over his knee and spank the hell out of you!"

"Honest?" the girl replied, wide-eyed. "Will he really?" Then she beamed and added, "I go on next and it would be so neat to do it with scarlet buns!" With that she made a move to lift her skirt, drop her bikini and lay across Tom's lap.

To dissuade the girl, Jack mentioned, "Look, I'm an ex-Ranger, and a spanking will really hurt! Are you really sure you want that?"

"You are?" the girl exclaimed. "How neat!"

Jack received a reminder of the fact that attitudes toward servicemen and women had undergone a sea change from the unpleasantness of the seventies. His eyes widened as the girl flopped down on the sofa beside him. He was astounded because even though she truly flopped, she still appeared to be so graceful doing it.

"Oh, shit," Mel murmured. "I guess I must. Connie Stevens, may I introduce John Murphy. Jack, this ... this thing is Constance Stevens." Then she continued, "Connie is 23 years old, almost five feet six, 115 pounds."

Before Jack could even acknowledge the introduction, Connie asked him wide-eyed, "Mr. Murphy, by any chance do you know guy who could possibly be interested in ... Oh, hell, I might as well just show you." With that the girl rose gracefully from the sofa and in just a few moments had stripped bare. She thrust her shoulders back forcing her smallish tits upward. Connie had sun-streaked brown hair and incredible green eyes.

Then she turned slowly and moved to fully reveal her perfect body. "Of course," she said sadly, "if the guy likes muff-diving, he's out of luck: No muff. And since I'm lasered down there — all over, in fact — there never will be one." Then, looking even more dejected she added, "Oh, yeah ... I'm a virgin."

"A ... a what?" Jack stammered.

Mel couldn't control herself. The look on Jack's face was priceless so she had to laugh and did.

For that matter, so was the look on Connie's face. She stood there with her hands on her bare hips and demanded, "And what's so damned wrong with being a virgin? Huh? I mean ... it's not like it's contagious or anything."

It was Jack who howled with laughter at her retort.

While this exchange was in progress, Mel had picked up the phone, punched in a number, spoke a few words and hung up.

"But you never answered my question, Mr. Murphy. Do you know anybody?"

"Connie, Jack's seen enough. Why don't you get dressed. And have you eaten, by the way?"

The girl's eyes widened as she realized what time it was. "I've got to dash!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to be late."