Chapter Five

The next morning, Ares headed downstairs to the kitchen. Someone had brewed coffee, so he grabbed a mug and filled it up. Steam released and he blew on it before drinking. The much-needed caffeine helped chase away the cobwebs of sleep. A moment later, Hunter came in searching for his own cup of joe.

"You're up early," he grunted.

"I've got interviews." He finished his coffee and placed the cup in the sink. "Wish me luck."

Hunter held up his first two fingers twisted together.

Ares roared out of the club's lot toward The Pussy Willow. He was expecting more of the same crappy selection of girls. He set up a table to conduct interviews, and as he waited for the applicants to show up, he started taking the upturned chairs off tables. The strip club opened at noon for the lunch crowd who wanted to see naked women shaking their tits while they ate.

His cook came in, giving a wave as he headed into the kitchen to prep for the day. A few minutes after that, the first of the applicants arrived. He took resumes from the few women who brought one, but mostly relied on the notes he took. Name, phone number, and a big yay or nay printed at the top. All of them were nay. By the time noon came around, he was fed up. All the women batted their eyes and pushed out her boobs, hoping to get his attention. And yeah, The Pussy Willow was a strip club where naked women were the name of the game, but he didn't want the women trying to get his attention. They needed to focus on the clientele.

As he cleaned up the interview table, the door opened and a young woman entered, hovering in the doorway. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back. Big blue eyes looked around, wide-eyed and innocent. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, and had no makeup on her face. And she didn't need it because she was fucking gorgeous. His dick also noticed, very interested in what she was doing here.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I … um, well, I was here to apply for the job."

Her voice was soft. Melodic. He bet she'd scream beautifully with pleasure, and he wanted to be the one who gave it to her. Wanted her to cry out his name when she came. She looked like a fucking angel with a body made to sin. Narrow waist, long legs. Tits more than a handful. He really wanted to get her naked and under him.

"Certainly," he said, smiling. Hoping to relax her. "I'm Ares. I own The Pussy Willow."

She gave a self-conscious wave. "Nice to meet you. I'm Adira. Am I too late for an interview?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. How did you hear about the job?"

Her fair complexion flushed red. He didn't remember ever seeing a woman blush before and it fascinated him.

"I was in a coffee shop and I eavesdropped on two women talking."

That amused him. "All right."

He strode closer, and the scent of warm spice hit him, making his mouth water, and he realized it was her. He licked his lips, wondering if she tasted like sugar, spice, and everything nice. "Do you have any experience being a hostess?"

Disappointment dulled her eyes. "No. I don't have a lot of work experience. I-I'm sorry for wasting your time."

She turned to leave and he hurried to push the door closed, preventing her from disappearing. By doing that, however, it brought him flush against her body, her back to his chest. The contact had his heart galloping and his cock going rock-hard in an instant.

"Don't go," he murmured softly. A little tremor rolled through her body and he hoped to fucking God it was because she felt what he was feeling. "I don't care if you don't know how to greet customers. I can teach you everything you need to know."

She nodded, so slight he wondered if she actually did it. He eased back settling his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. Her cornflower eyes were wide, and he felt himself sliding into the depths of her gaze. Trapped between him and the door, she bit her bottom lip. That luscious plump lip he wanted to suck on, or have it wrapped around his dick. He wasn't picky. With a finger, he freed the bit of skin from her teeth, then caressed her mouth.

"Don't hurt your pretty little mouth," he murmured.

"What's happening?" she asked, a bit breathless.

"You feel it too, don't you?"

She blinked big, rounded eyes at him. "I feel kind of jittery. Kind of excited."

"Me too."

"Really? Or are you just teasing me?"

"No teasing." He brushed away some hair on her forehead. "You're so fucking beautiful. Where'd you come from, sweetheart?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but she hesitated. Indecision and fear flashed over her face. She was running from something. Or someone. He wanted to pull her behind him to keep her safe. Fight her monsters and battle the demons.

And what the fuck was he thinking?

"You have no poker face," he told her. "Whatever you're running from, I'll protect you."

"You don't even know me."

"Not yet." He winked. "Let's get to know each other."

He eased back and held out his hand. She looked from it to his face and back again. He waited patiently.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She cocked her head, studying him. "I never thought you would."

Her trust surprised him. "Most people see the tats and think I'm some sort of troublemaker."

One of her eyebrows went up. It transformed the way she looked at him, and he liked this look on her better. It made her sassy and fucking delectable.

"Oh, you are definitely a troublemaker," she sassed.

He laughed. "Touché. So, what I need is a hostess. The clientele might be as redneck as you can get, but that doesn't mean I want it to be just any old gaudy strip club. Majority of the time, we do have women who dance naked, but once a week I incorporate burlesque. Sure, most of the men who come here have no idea with that is, but that combined with half-price drinks brings in a lot of money. The back rooms are for lap dances and renting out to bachelor parties. As a hostess, you'll have to coordinate those parties. Your main job will be to take care of the VIP section. Those private sections are available for a price. Included in the cost are free lap dancers, as many as they want. They'll ask you for the girl, and you'll type it into a tablet which is uploaded to the floor manager's, and she sends the girls. The area allows privacy so the men can jack off as they watch, but the women aren't allowed to insert anything anywhere. No pictures and no soliciting for sex. My business partner, Hunter, runs the whorehouse next door. If the men want pussy they need to go there. The VIP price includes thirty minutes with one of the women at Belladonna. Right now, Sarah coordinates with Hunter, but eventually, I'll ask you to take that role as well. Any questions?"

She looked a little pale and a little shell-shocked. Fuck. Maybe she wasn't the right person for the job.

"Um. Do you have a women's night?"

He blinked. "Come again?"

She licked her lips and he watched that pink little tongue with envy. He wanted to lick her all over.

"I noticed you only have female strippers but what about the rest of the population of Cardinal and surrounding towns? Women went gaga over Magic Mike. Probably even men did as well. Don't they deserve a fantasy too?"

He could tell she was nervous, but damn, she came up with an idea right off the bat.

"You make an excellent point," he said. "I like it. Write up the proposal."

Her brow furrowed. "Just like that?"

"Yeah. I'm not a complicated guy." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "The biggest question is, can you handle what happens in this place?"

She thought for a long moment, staring at him. Then she lifted her chin. "I can handle anything that goes on here."

That show of strength surprised him.

"How about you come tonight from seven to closing for a trial run?" He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "Saying it and accepting it are two different things."

"Okay," she agreed.

He took hold of her hand and brought it up to his lips and kissed the soft skin. "Be here at seven. Wear a black dress or a black skirt. The VIP rooms are available at six so you'll be able to get a taste of what it's like."

She stood up, smiling. "Thank you, Mr. Ares. I'll be here at seven."

"It's just Ares. My last name is Wardon."

"Ares Wardon?"

"Actually, my real name is Travis but when I joined the MC, they started calling me Ares because of the ‘war' part of my last name."

"Are you in the same club as Courtney?"

"How do you know Courtney?"

"He's dating my friend, Livia."

"That's good. I thought I was going to have to fight him for a moment."

"Why?"

"For your hand, obviously." He winked. "Don't let the idea of bikers freak you out. We're a club, but we're also legitimate business owners. One brother is even a CPA."

She let out a low snort of amusement. "I've recently discovered that a mask hides a lot of things. What should be scared and revered is mocked and despised, so maybe … if the devout can be sinful, then perhaps sin can be devout. At least, that's my theory."

Damn. Someone royally fucked up by letting her get away. "Something tells me you have quite the story. I hope you share it one day."

She shrugged. "It's not that great of a story. I'll see you at five."

He nodded and walked her to the front door. She smiled at him, and then she was gone. Ares pulled out his phone and a moment later Hunter answered.

"I found her," Ares said, getting right to the point.

"You found a hostess?" Hunter asked.

"Yes, but that's not what I meant. I found her , and she's perfect."

Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. For years they talked about finding a woman to be their personal sex toy.

"Innocent?"

"I'd cut my left nut off if she wasn't a virgin."

"We'll need to test her."

"She's coming to work tonight."

"Good. Better to be safe than for us to be disappointed later. I'll be there."

He disconnected the call and grinned. Oh, yeah. Hunter won't know what hit him.