Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  Her eyes grew wide with horror as she remembered the lie she had concocted specifically for her ex-boyfriend. "Oh that," she said, waving it off. "I told him that to deflect his line of questioning."

  Moving off the bed, Dean walked over to where she stood, stopping scant inches away from her. His height required her to tilt her face upward so that she could look at him. "Would you care to know what I think?"

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted her weight to one foot and glared at him with a look of defiance. "Not really."

  Her nonplussed attitude only fueled his need to tell her what was really on his mind. "I think you do. And being the wonderful almost fiancé that I am, I'm going to share."

  He slowly loosened the tie around her trim waist. The rise and fall of her chest increased under the scrutiny, pushing her breasts against the silky smoothness of the material. As the robe fell open, his eyes were drawn to the creamy texture of her pale skin. Placing a fingertip at the base of her throat, he lightly traced an invisible line down her body until it rested between her breasts.

  "What makes you so sure I want to know?" she forced herself to ask with bated breath. The rebellious shield of self-preservation she had thrown his direction just moments before was threatening to shatter into a million pieces and land in a field of extinction. With a single touch, he gained mastery over her body. Her mind shouted for her to run as fast and as far as possible, but her body demanded she stay.

  "Call it a hunch," he purred. Tracing his finger down her flat abdomen until reaching the perfect triangle between her thighs, he stopped. While still gazing into her eyes, he slowly buried his finger inside her warmth and began to stroke. He admired the look of pleasure washing over her. Angela was the most incredible woman he had laid eyes upon in a long time and he wanted nothing more than to lay claim to her…over and over again. He wished he hadn't slipped back into his clothes after they had finished drying because he would give practically anything to have his flesh melded against hers.

  With her mouth partially opened, she chewed the inside of her lip as he continued to stimulate her with his fingers. He adored her feeble attempts at stifling her moans, but the sound of them rumbling in the back of her throat awakened his passionate fury. His pleasure pole responded to her with wanton need, pressing against the denim of his jeans, imploring her to take notice.

  While he continued to stir the need burning inside of her, she pulled his shirt over his head and pressed her lips to his flesh. Suckling his nipples, she took one between her teeth and gently pulled, causing him to gulp with delight. Her hands found the button on his jeans and made quick work of the zipper. Denim dropped to the floor around his ankles. A tiny smirk of satisfaction crossed her lips but it didn't stop her from continuing her oral discovery of his firm chest. Sliding her hands to his erection, she pulled him to her and began stroking his hardened member.

  Ending his finger exploration, he scooped her into his arms. His mouth crashed down on hers with renewed craving as he carried his sweet Angela to bed. Gently laying her down on the mattress, he joined her. Pushing his tongue into her mouth, he explored the depths of her kiss while his fingers returned to the damp hiding place between her legs. The supple feel of her fingers curling around his shaft, sent him into lustful overdrive. He wanted to bury himself inside of her and remain hidden in her arms for as long as possible.

  Moving down her body, he took her in his mouth and tasted the sweet liquid she so willingly offered. Sliding his fingers back inside of her slickness, he worked her with finger and tongue until he felt her tighten, then he said the words she wanted to hear. "Now, Angela," he told her. With an erotic whimper, she arched her back and released a stream of sweet ambrosia onto his tongue.

  As he slid back up her body, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. Never before had she had the desire to forget about work and responsibilities and stay in bed. But the man, who was unraveling the part of her that she had neglected for so long, would require more than a few hours to fully explore.

  With the exception of Cutter, the men she had sex with were simply for convenience, always wore condoms and could be counted on one hand. Until now, she had never experienced the rawness of pure licentious sexual cravings. She wanted to feel him deep inside of her and beg him to pound away until she reached the mountaintop of ecstasy. After that was done, she wanted to set up camp.

  "I want you," she whimpered.

  "And I you," he admitted, pulling back slightly so that he could see into her passion-glazed eyes. "I didn't bring anything with me."

  "Why not?" she pressed.

  "I don't normally keep those on me," he shrugged.

  With the heat of the moment slowly fizzling out, she rolled over to her side so that she was facing him. Blinking several times before speaking, she had to know if he was serious. "You're kidding me right?"

  "No. You seemed surprised. Is it really that strange for a man not to carry condoms in his wallet?"

  "I'm thinking it's a bit odd, but I wouldn't know. I haven't been through many wallets." Rolling onto her back, she pressed her hand against her forehead and glared at the ceiling. Deep breathing techniques were usually enough to calm her, but this wasn't an ordinary problem and her erupting hormones refused to be pacified so easily. Pulling the emergency brake on raging lust was seriously uncool.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely. "It seems we're quite the pair. You don't make it a habit to look inside men's wallets and I don't make it a habit to see the inside of many bedrooms."

  That got her attention. Twisting her head to look at him, she opened her mouth and closed it several times before finding the proper words, but all she came up with was, "Are you practicing your comedy routine?" The question dripped with skepticism.

  "Is it so hard to believe?" He found it difficult to look at the incredulous expression plastered on her face, so he rolled to his back and glared at the ceiling, mimicking her previous position.

  "Actually, it is," she answered. "Look at you, Dean. You're freaking gorgeous. I find it difficult to believe that women don't throw themselves at you. I'd be willing to bet you carry pepper spray in your pocket just to fend them off."

  Turning to look at her, he grinned. "Do you know how adorable you are?"

  "Do you know how fantastical it seems to me that you don't have a dozen women on speed dial?"

  "I could say the same for you," he retorted. "Men rather than women, that is."

  "Can I ask you a personal question?" She felt as if she might be taking the 'getting to know you' gig a bit far, but you don't know if you don't ask and she was asking.

  "That depends on how personal it is," he replied. There were some questions he wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

  "When was the last time you slept with someone?" It wasn't really any of her business, but there wasn't any way on earth that Dean Murray didn't have a laundry list of women swooning over him.

  "Do you want an exact date or a rough date?" he asked without emotion.

  "Okay, smarty pants. Give me an exact date." This should be good, she thought. There was no way possible for any man to know the answer to that question.

  "It's been two years, seven months, and thirteen days," he stated flatly. Glancing behind him at the clock on the guest night stand, he turned back to her. "And six hours."

  She searched his face for evidence of the intended humor but didn't find it. Instead she saw something else, something riddled with sorrow. "You're serious?" she asked incredulously.

  "Yes."

  "She must have done a real number on you for you to remember exact times and dates."

  "She did," he answered remorsefully.

  "What happened? Did she walk out on you?" she pressed.

  "I suppose you could say that." Standing up, he moved around the bed to retrieve his jeans.

  "Where are you going?" Bolting to her feet, she pulled her robe closed and watched with dismay as he dressed.

  Without a
word, he nodded to the clock.

  A quick glance in its direction sent her flying toward the bathroom. "Oh, shit! I can't believe it's so late."

  Rapidly cleaning up and brushing her teeth. She threw on a dash of mascara and blush then ran to her closet. Dancing to the beat of her newly released hit single 'I cannot fucking believe this,' she wiggled her way into a pair of faded jeans, pulled on a tee and shoved a ball cap onto her head. A pair of socks and shoes later, she scurried into an empty room but didn't have time to be overly concerned with Dean's disappearance. Running down the hall, she flew past the living room and caught a glimpse of Cutter reclined on the couch watching television. He hadn't said how long he was staying so she just assumed it would be overnight. It was a little disconcerting to see him camped out in her living room two days later. If she wasn't running so late for work, she would set him straight, but given the situation, the discussion would have to wait.

  "See you later," she barked in passing as she snatched up her purse and keys from the table in the foyer and flew out the door.

  Chapter 7

  One way or another, he would get his hands on Bare Assets ~ Mr. Benson

  Dallas traffic was gnarly, but her car squealed into the parking lot with minutes to spare. She would be hard pressed to get everything done on time, but if things went as smooth as usual, she would have plenty of time to hand out the cash drawers and set up the bar before opening the doors.

  "There's our girl," Bear announced as a blurred image of his boss lady rushed past.

  "Hey," she offered, lifting a hand as she bee-lined it to the office. Finding Dean in her bed when she woke this afternoon had been her first surprise of the day. Walking into her office to find Candy handing out cash drawers was the second. She came to a screeching halt at the sight of her business operating without her.

  "Hey, you," Candy beamed. "I thought that maybe you were tied up in traffic, so I took the liberty of helping out. Hope you don't mind." Candy had a good idea that traffic hadn't played a key factor in the boss lady's late arrival, but far be it from her to announce Angela's business to anyone. If there was one thing Candy could do, it was keep a secret.

  With all eyes on her, Angie presented the most gratuitous smile imaginable. "I don't mind at all," she announced. "In fact, I'm grateful. Thanks a million, Candy. You're a life saver."

  "Anytime, Boss Lady," she gleamed with pride. "I've got this handled if you need to start setting up the bar."

  Walking over to the safe, Angie sat her purse inside, retrieved a cash drawer, counted out the money and signed for it. "Thanks again."

  "Don't sweat it," Candy said with a hidden smirk.

  For the first time since purchasing the club, she wasn't the one passing out the drawers and she hadn't been the one to let the employees inside. Normally, she was the first one in and the last one to leave. A smile spread across her lips as she toyed with the idea that she might need to teach Candy and Bear more management duties. She trusted those two more than any others and they took their jobs and her club seriously. Maybe she would eventually be able to take a day off. Working from 4 PM to 5 AM every day, seven days a week was beginning to take its toll. Not that it bothered her to spend all of her time at the club. She hadn't had much use for a social life away from it, until now. The thought of Dean caused her stomach to tighten. She was oblivious to the fact that the phrase, until now, seemed to come up frequently since their brief rendezvous in the VIP room last night.

  Her mind replayed the events of that morning as she went through the same motions she had gone through every night for two years. She could do this job in her sleep. Restock the liquor bottles that were low, stock the beer, check the beer and soda taps as well as the kegs, make certain the ice machine was working, wipe down the glasses to remove dishwasher spots, set out the newly cleaned ashtrays, and smile for the customers. She was a pro. No, if you were really a pro you would hire someone to do this while you tended to paperwork and played boss, she reprimanded silently.

  The music wafted through the speakers, Bear opened the front door and another Thursday night at Bare Assets got underway.

  ******

  Typically, Thursday nights at any gentlemen's club worthy of catering to the upper set of Dallas society would be hopping. Kicking back a shot of Maker's Mark, John Benson surveyed the audience of men as his best dancer took the stage. He had discovered this girl dancing for the competition and had hired her out from under them. This girl deserved an audience who had pockets full of dough to burn. He should know. He took her home whenever he needed a good tussle in the bed and she had yet to disappoint him. Convincing her that sleeping with the man who owned dozens of clubs and had a bank roll to match had been a bit tricky at first, but after minor persuasion, she had given in to his demands and was now providing another type of service to his most important clients. Yes, she was lining his pockets, his bed, and the bed of his associates quite nicely. Barbie had quickly become a fan favorite.

  The sporadic placement of men in the club grated on raw nerves. His place should be packed and yet there were only a dozen or so in attendance and half of those weren't giving his girl the respect she deserved. Instead, they were slumped over their glasses searching for the answers to their latest miseries. The small number of bills that made it to the stage as she worked her magic was insulting.

  Pushing back his chair, he went in search of the club manager. With dozens of establishments to run, he had hired managers to operate each location, leaving him to attend to the finer elements of entrepreneurship. He found his current pretty boy location manager in the office doing the previous night's paperwork.

  "Hello, Mr. Benson," he said, looking up from the desk.

  John shut the door to dim the club music and glared at the handsome man behind the desk. He was one hell of a manger and had been successfully handling the club for several years, turning it into one of his more profitable locations. "For your sake, I hope tonight's attendance level doesn't become a trend."

  "I wish I could tell you otherwise, but until the road crew wraps up construction on the service road, we're dead in the water. To save money, until then, I can cut back on the advertising budget if you'd like. I've already cut back on the wait staff and reduced the number of bouncers on the floor. I've also trimmed the kitchen menu to reduce overhead."

  "Are the other clubs in the area struggling, or did we happen to be the only ones to fall in the line of fire?"

  "From what the trolls have told me, we're not the only club in town that is struggling to keep the doors open. It's not just us."

  "I visited Bare Assets a few nights ago and they didn't seem to be struggling. If anything, it was prospering."

  "Ms. Fletcher's club isn't partially blocked off with orange construction cones and road crews either."

  "Find out who in the hell I need to bribe to make our construction problem disappear. I don't care how high up the chain we need to go, get it done. I can't run a lucrative business if the damn city is clogging the only way in."

  "I'll call first thing in the morning."

  "See that you do."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Leaving the office, Mr. Benson closed the door behind him and decided to pay another visit to Angela Fletcher. Sooner or later that bitch would sell out to him and he would add yet another successful gentlemen's club to his business portfolio.

  He wanted to get his hands on the upper society clientele that frequented Bare Assets as well as the classy, attractive women she employed. So far, his efforts to bribe them away had met with one blatant refusal after another, but he hadn't built a business empire by tucking tail and walking away. If Angela's dancers and clients wouldn't come to him, he would gladly buy them from her.

  Perhaps it was time to increase his measures of persuasion and squeeze her a bit. One way or another, he would get his hands on Bare Assets. It was simply a matter of when and how.

  *********

  The bar area was packed. Bartenders and wa
itresses were rapidly handling the customers, leaving time for little else, so it took a minute before Angela noticed the head bouncer patiently waiting to get her attention.

  Bear stood at the end of the bar. The second his boss lady glanced up, he waved her over. After filling another drink order, Ang rushed to the end of the bar to see what he needed.

  "It's a packed house. We've reached our fire code capacity. Do you want me to slip a few more people in or start turning them away?" He knew the answer before he asked, but she was the boss lady and leaving the decision to her was the proper thing to do.

  A joyful grin spread across her face. It still amazed her each time they hit their limit. "Start a line. Our girls are worth waiting for. When one customer leaves, let the next one in. We stick to the code."

  "Yes, Ma'am." Putting two fingers to his forehead he semi saluted and smiled. He had a lot of admiration for Ang. She had a strong head for business and had turned this dreary old club into the most successful topless bar in town.

  As her lead bouncer returned to the front door to inform the doorman, she went back to work filling orders, never missing a beat. The events of the last few days were forgotten as she whipped out the drinks and popped the tops on long necks. Jenna, her assistant bartender, was pumping out the orders as quickly as she was.

  "Busy night," Candy said, before shouting out her current drink order.

  "You've got that right," Angie barked over the music. Quickly filling Candy's request, she turned to fill the next waitress' order without hesitation.

  "Ang," Bear's voice resounded down the bar but didn't interrupt her work flow. Holding up a finger to let him know that she'd heard him but that he'd have to wait a second, she filled the orders in her head and then hurried down to the end of the bar to find out what he needed.

  "What's up?" she asked, glancing behind her at the bustling bar. Jenna was filling orders as quickly as she had been but it had taken the both of them to keep up with the incoming demands. She needed to consider hiring a few more mixologists to fill the demand. She had one to fill in for her assistant on her days off, but she needed another to fill in for her too and one for nights such as this. Bare Assets had been in an upward trend for months now; it was time she realized that it wasn't just a fluke.