Page 49 of Corporate Escapades

“Why not?” Vic was slightly hurt by her response.

“I can tell you’ve done this before,” she said pointedly.

“Well, even if I have, how does that equate to not being a gentleman?”

Fanning out her cards, she asked, “Do gentlemen try to swindle women out of their clothing?”

“Touché,” he said. The grin never left his face. “But in all seriousness, probably. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a man who wouldn’t try, given the chance.”

Paris looked at her cards. “What you’re implying is that there are no gentlemen.”

“Maybe gentleman is a word not so dissimilar to superman?”

Looking up at him, she narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe that. There are true gentlemen out there somewhere. My father is a gentleman.”

“Really? So, you’re telling me that the gallant Mr. DeMarcé did not get the beautiful Mrs. DeMarcé naked, the very first chance he got? He was above that?” Vic knew he had her with that response, but whether she would admit it was the question.

“Yes, I’m saying exactly that,” she scoffed as she took a swig from her bottle of beer. She watched as Vic pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for some music to play.”

“Don’t change the subject! I think you’re wrong. My father’s not the type of man who would try to get a woman naked unless he was making love to her.”

“Oh, really?” asked Vic.

“Yes, really!” persisted Paris.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Paris, but I’m pretty sure you’re wrong. He’s as hot-blooded as the rest of us when it comes to getting a beautiful woman naked, but if he is as you say, he won’t have a problem with me calling and asking him if he’s ever been a part of such shenanigans.”

At his response, Paris spurt beer from her mouth. “You’re not calling him!” she yelled as she grabbed for the phone. He yanked it out of her reach, and she lunged toward him. With his massive free hand, he palmed her forehead and held her at bay. Paris flailed like an angry monkey as she heard the phone ringing over the speaker. Vic set the phone out of the way, grabbed her in a bear hug, and wrestled her to the ground.

“Don’t ask him that!” she wailed. “You’re such a jerk. It's none of our business!”

“Shh,” he said. “Let me do this, and if I’m wrong, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

Looking at him, she shook her head in defeat. After all, she wasn’t the idiot asking such a personal question.

“Hello?” answered her father.

“Hey, Mikel, it’s Vic.”

“Good evening, Vic. What can I do for you?”

“Well, sir, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” he replied, “but make it quick. I’m in over my head playing Strip Poker with a couple of ladies from the office.”

“Hey, say no more,” replied Vic. “We can talk later.”

“If you’re sure?” asked Mikel.

“Completely. Have a nice night.” Vic turned off his phone and set it on the table. Paris stared at him, her mouth agape.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He laughed.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

“Excuse me? What do you mean?”

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