Indominable Desires

"The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns.

He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for…" -- Unknown

The Gilded Velvet thumped to the usual baseline that Friday night in March as the sexiest girls in the city of West Bend hit the stage, glistening in glitter, pasties, and light, decorative charmeuse, as they performed on the stainless steel pole under bright recess lights. Men in Tom Ford, Brioni, and Bijan Pakzad suits threw cash at them, whistling and cat-calling, as Dominic Larken took to the VIP section with its dimmed lights reserved for him as it always was. Not more than a minute later, as he unbuttoned his William Westmancott three-piece black suit jacket, a curvy girl in black fishnet stockings held up by a lacey garter belt approached, smiling like an angel to match the little black wings on her back and golden halo above her curly light brown hair.

“Good evening and welcome to Gilded Velvet. I’ll be your angel this evening.”

He glanced at her up and down with the slight tilt of his head. It was something the club had started recently, with each server and even the bartender dressed in costumes to the amusement of the patrons. In fact, the skilled mixologist, Ben, dressed in demon horns. Other servers embodied pretty kitties, cute foxes, and sexy rabbits with little tails and ears to match.

“Whiskey on the rocks.” Dominic’s voice was gruff as he asked with the lift of his eyebrow, with a scar through it, “Will you be dancing for us tonight as a new attraction, angel?”

She chuckled with good humor. “If it’s that drink ya want, I’m your girl, but dancing?” She waved a hand with even nails, clear and shiny, as she leaned close, giving him an eyeful of her bountiful breasts squeezed together. “Nah, nobody wants to see that.” She straightened and smiled. “That drink’s coming right up.”

Dominic watched the sway of her womanly hips as she sought the bar and knew she was dead wrong on that. Her waist was tiny, but her thighs were thick enough to swallow a man’s dreams. Angel was no skinny chic by any means, and that was just the way Dominic liked them. Hourglass curves had him fantasizing about just what he could do with them before he leaned back in his leather seat with an amused smirk, lifting the corners of his full mouth.

“Smart girl.”

Dominic drummed his fingers on the oak table--a habit that made his two men standing behind him shift slightly. Vic and Jesse knew it was rare for anyone to catch the boss’s eye, much less a woman employed at the very club he owned in secret. However, there was something about the angel’s refusal that intrigued him. Most women at the club recognized him and fell all over themselves for his attention. She didn’t, in fact. The angel simply treated him as she did everyone in her section.

Jesse dared lean close after the angel drifted away. “That girl was newly hired last week after the other server was fired for skimming.”

Dominic waved him off with a dismissive hand. His glacial eyes still tracked the angel’s movements through the crowd. She moved with purpose, not the practiced command of the dancers. No performance. Just... simple efficiency to deliver drinks and appetizers.

When she returned with his whiskey from the bar, Dominic still watched her. “Hmmm...” he growled as his tattooed fingers touched her small ones when she handed him his order. A notable shock popped them, making her soft hazel eyes round, startled as she stared into his icy blue eyes. Dominic licked his lips while she gasped and drew her hand away with a shake. Her bountiful chest, clad in the sexy, strapless one-piece body suit, rose and fell rapidly.

“Sorry,” the angel murmured and backed away, off kilter. Her heart raced a mile a minute. She quickly regained her equilibrium, though, as she lined her own dry lips with her tongue, as if the club’s temperature rose to the pits of hell for some reason. Probably the manager, Gary’s bright idea to make it hotter in there, just to coax more demand for drinks. It worked because the beverage orders hadn’t slowed down since she started work that evening.

The man in the tailored black suit, because no off-the-rack item could possibly fit those massive shoulders, arms, chest, and very long legs, sans tie, with two buttons of his shirt undone, and heavy ink peeking through, did not smile. His glacial eyes, almost hidden behind his sunglasses, missed nothing and held an intensity that made the angel shiver inwardly as she turned and walked away to attend another customer who requested A1 sauce for his grilled ribeye steak.

“I’m not.” Dominic sipped his whiskey as he did most Friday nights, but this time the scenery of dark polished marble floors and velvet booths he knew so well shifted. This time, a new curvy girl served him, and she smiled at him with a sweetness out of place in the most classy gentleman’s club in West Bend. “The night just got a little more interesting.”

The cubes of ice clinked as he lifted the crystal tumbler to his parted lips and drank it all. He had no need to wave her over and request more drinks, for she returned to him with another glass of whiskey on the rocks as he ordered previously. He was impressed by how intuitive she was to his desire.

“You’re new here.”

Not a question. A statement, delivered in a low, controlled tone that suggested he knew more than he spoke of.

Everyone who worked at the club had their story. The angel was no different. To her, the job was just that, a place of employment like any other, no more than a means to an end. Her friend Crystal, who did dance every Wednesday through Sunday, told her about the opportunity to work for the club catering to rich men, emphasizing that it wasn’t sleazy like other strip clubs around the city. Gilded Velvet leaned more toward high-end class with its leather furnishings and rich oak tables. There was a section just for cigar smokers and on the lower floors a dance club. It seemed the Gilded Velvet was a night spot everyone liked to go to because it had something for everyone. The angel made more in tips than she ever made at the cafe she worked at during the day.

The angel smiled and nodded. “Good eye with so many masked and all. Yes, I am new, but will do my best to take care of your drinks this evening. Enjoy the show.”

“I intend to.” Dominic nodded slowly; that smirk never quite faded. He took a long pull from his newest whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. He dismissed her with a glance, instead turning his attention to the stage where a dancer in emerald silk began her routine. His fingers resumed their drumming--that telltale sign of his mind still working something out.

One of his men, a scarred guy named Vic, leaned close. “Boss, like Jesse tried to tell you, she’s the third new server this month. You want me to--”

Dominic cut him off with a sharp look. “Leave it.”

There was something about the way the angel moved--no eagerness, no desperation in her eyes. Just doing a job. He respected that more than he cared to admit as he continued to watch how she interacted with other patrons. No over-the-top flirtation, simply friendly service. Dominic settled deeper into his leather chair, legs crossed, sunglasses on the tip of his nose, and nursing his drink. He tried to pay attention to the excellent performance of core strength as the dancer Star floated around the steel pole in perfect sync to the slow and sensual vibes of Hozier’s “Movement.” Regardless of the beauty of Star’s breathtaking skill and artistry, Dominic’s attention continued to drift back toward the bar, toward the angel that captivated him in a far different way.

Aili Kennison or “Angel” as she was known in the club signed when Ben the “Devil” tending bar waved her over. “Hey, it’s a full house tonight.” He handed her a tray of shots. “Two bachelor parties, thirsty businessmen galore, and Mouse went home sick again.” He shook his horned head. “Think she may be knocked up, so that leaves you handling everything again. Sorry.”

Aili breathed in and then out and shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse, believe me.” She smiled with a wink as she picked up the tray of shots with a smile. The bachelors hooted as she handed out the shots to each of them and gathered the empty glasses they finished.

“Another pitcher of beer?”

“Oh yeah!” they cheered together, and she laughed.

“Coming right up.”

Both parties of men were loud. One was slightly more drunk than the other like they were having a competition on who could shower more money on the dancers and drink like fish. They were a bit rowdy, but not aggressive. Aili thought they were the young types she remembered from college and were all in on celebrating their buddy’s last day of freedom before his impending marriage. Even when one of the drunk group gets grabby at a passing dancer, Omar and Kevin, working security, quickly and quietly handled it, scooping the offender up by each arm and escorting him out and ensuring he may not return to harass any other workers.

The party didn’t stop for a beat, and the other party members made sure to keep their hands to themselves. Omar and Kevin were vigilant on the floor while Jamie and Kort made sure the backroom areas for the dancers remained secure until they were ready to engage their fans on the floor or for a private dance in the rooms they had ready for such personal entertainment. Other security in Marcus and David maintained those areas so that no one had to worry about anything unseemly happening to any of the working ladies.

At the VIP table, the man in the tailored suit continued to sip his drink, which she noted got low. Aili made sure to pick up another whiskey on the rocks from the Devil, who had it ready when she approached with a wink.

“Here you go.” She smiled like the angel she depicted as she delivered the new drink to the well-dressed man who had not moved or removed his sunglasses from the tip of his aquiline nose. She took away the empty glass as he nodded at her his thanks, yet said nothing.

Instead, behind his sunglasses, he followed her practiced efficiency throughout the floor of patrons, leaving none thirsty. She failed to engage in the game, and it was unusual for him to be surprised by anything he did not expect. The fox and bunny did for plenty of customers as they shook their asses, coaxing a lap dance or two, as they laughed with the patrons who fanned their hundred-dollar bills like tissue paper. She simply went about her work with a cordial smile, like one would expect a stranger passing down the street or in a grocery store. It was so out of place in the strip club. Depravity and grime from thirsty men elicited caution while also driving the core of the business of fantasy, as they pursued all the money in those thick wallets and unlimited black credit cards. The angel, though, could have been working at the Olive Garden Restaurant or a coffee shop, by how she engaged everyone with respect, yet also with affability Dominic’s eye was drawn to her.

Vic noticed his boss tracking the angel server again and asked as he already texted one of their tech men to do a background check on the new server at the club, “You want me to run a check on her?”

Dominic didn’t answer immediately as he considered the question. He swirled his whiskey before taking a new sip. “No. Leave it.”

There remained something in his tone, though, that was not quite dismissal, which was why Vic did not cancel his text. It sounded more like restraint, which was definitely not like the boss. The man who owned almost all of West Bend was not a man known for holding himself back from doing anything he desired. So, what in the world was different about that Friday night, different about that curvy girl dressed like an angel?

The music pulsed. Colored lights washed across the club, and Dominic Larken, a man used to knowing everything about everyone in his orbit, found himself genuinely uncertain about the server in the mask dressed like an angel.