A Pleasing Temptation. Deborah Fletcher Mello
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but it would mean that most marketing queries would roll through your office. Obviously The Michelle Initiative would support you as needed, but we’re willing to let this be your baby, if you agree.”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “Why?”
“This is a very public foray into the adult entertainment business. For personal reasons, the owners would like to distance themselves somewhat. This would allow them that.”
“I’d like to think about it and get back to you, if that’s okay?”
She nodded. “That’s not a problem at all. And if it will help in your decision, know that the compensation would be quite handsome.”
Paxton interjected. “For obvious reasons we would need to know before the opening.”
Wesley nodded. “I understand.”
Kamaya took a deep breath. “Paxton will give you all the details about the interview and the film crew that will be here next week, but if you have any other questions or concerns, please give me a call,” she said, as she flipped a business card through her fingers and slid it across his palm.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
And with that, Kamaya turned, almost racing from the room.
“Wow!” Bryan exclaimed. “Damn! That woman is gorgeous! Did you see those hips and whips?” he asked, gesturing with both hands across his chest and then his butt.
Paxton gave him a look, something protective seeming to sweep over his broad shoulders. “She’s out of your league. Besides, she’s taken.”
Bryan shrugged. “The good ones always are.”
Wesley bit down on his bottom lip, his best friend’s words echoing in his head. The good ones always are!
* * *
“Sounds like you’re going to be coming out of retirement,” Bryan teased, when the two men were finally alone. Paxton was long gone after detailing the rest of the business they needed to address, and Bryan and Wesley were now winding down for the night.
Wesley lifted his eyes to stare at his friend. “Excuse you?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Deuce!”
Wesley shook his head, a slight smirk pulling at his mouth. “That is not going to happen.”
“It will if Miss Boudreaux has something to say about it.”
“Well, she doesn’t.”
“And what if she asks to speak with him herself?”
“Then I’m giving her your telephone number, and you’re going to tell her that you’re out of the country and a trip back isn’t viable.”
Bryan laughed. “You expect me to lie?”
Wesley laughed. “Damn right!”
“Maybe you should just tell her the truth and let her know you’ve retired and are out of business.”
“I don’t make a point of telling anyone about my dancing days. How long has it been now? Hell, I don’t even know if I can dance anymore! I’m still trying to figure out how she got my stage name.”
“Clearly, the woman did her research. You know better than most that we are a small community nationwide. Ask the right woman and she can tell you who the top dancers are at Chocolate City in Atlanta, Chippendales in Vegas, Thunder Down Under, and Black Diamond in New York. And by next month, they’ll add their favorites from The Wet Bar to the list.”
“But I haven’t danced in years!”
“You were one of the best in the business. I learned my best moves from you. Hell, the best of the best learned their moves from you! Your reputation is legendary. Ask any of the guys about Deuce and they will tell you how they aspire to your notoriety.”
Wesley sat back in his seat, his hands folded together as if he were in prayer. His mind wandered as he thought about what his friend had said about his former career and his reputation in the industry.
It used to be a running joke that they called him Deuce because of what was in his pants. He was well endowed, and there had been women who’d mused he was packing at least two good feet of solid meat between his thighs. Of course, two feet was a good foot and an inch on the side of ridiculous, but he had run with it and it had paid off. On a good night Wesley had easily pulled over a thousand dollars in tips. A bad night netted him four or five hundred dollars. Had he been able, he would have danced seven nights a week. But since he couldn’t, he’d danced Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and for more private parties than he could count. He’d shaken his goods at brides celebrating their last hurrah, divorcees getting their feet re-wet and women who simply enjoyed a good time.
He had purposely avoided the more salacious aspects of the business. He had never had sex with a client or with anyone when he was working. He’d maintained a certain etiquette when performing, never, ever exposing his bare package. Over the years he had seen some things from other dancers that made his head spin and that wasn’t how he had wanted to be remembered.
But dancing had served him well. It put him through school, bought and paid for his first home and had enabled him to buy the business he was now building. He had few regrets and much appreciation for how the business had treated him. But he wasn’t interested in making a comeback. The past was best left in the past. He blew hot air past his lips, the weight of the situation bearing down on his spirit.
He suddenly thought about Kamaya Boudreaux. The woman had excited him. He had done a good job of containing his interest, and even in those few moments that had gotten tense between them, he had still found her thoroughly engaging. But he recognized that she could be a force to be reckoned with and he instinctively knew that telling her no wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. Yet he had every intention of telling the woman no. The dancer known as Deuce would not be making an appearance at the grand opening of The Wet Bar.
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