Page 5 of The Smoke Hour

“What the fuck is going on? Them bitches had better not be fighting again,” I warned.

“No. We had an intrusion.”

“The fuck you mean an intrusion?”

“A young lady approached the front desk and inquired with Pharris if we were hiring. She told her that we weren’t, and when the young lady insisted one of our dancers said we were, Pharris went to check. That’s when she slipped to the back with two of her friends.”

“And where was security?”

“Jake went to take a piss, and Rock was walking Exotic and Joleen to their cars.”

We rushed to the lounge area just before the hall that led to the private rooms. Those rooms allowed our clients to have private meetings with our dancers. They received massages and private dances, and for a fee to the house, they could negotiate any sexual services that occurred beyond the walls of The Smoke Hour.

I refused to get my shit shut down for prostitution over a bunch of horny muthafuckas or a bunch of hos who wanted extra money beyond the gwap I paid them. So, I charged a finder’s fee of 15 percent since the initial hookup took place here, along with the background checks I performed to ensure the girls’ safety.

The only bitches allowed in here were the receptionist, the servers, the dancers, the office manager, and the house mother.

Men paid a pretty penny for their membership, which guaranteed them privacy. The last thing they needed was their secrets getting out or anyone discovering they were here. There were NDAs in place for a reason.

“Them,” Sam said.

I looked up at the stage where he pointed and counted four women instead of the usual three. There were two women on the main pole, which generally was a problem. Only one woman should be there.

But damn if she wasn’t fine as hell. Her hips were in perfect harmony with the music, and when she bounced her ass, she made it jiggle for several seconds after she’d finished.

She glanced over her shoulder at the men in the audience, winked, and blew a kiss. She was working in perfect harmony with Fantasie. They looked as if they had rehearsed their routine thoroughly.

But where Fantasie was completely nude, the intruder wore clear, floral-shaped pasties over her toffee-colored nipples, and I could still see how erect they were through the fabric. She also wore a lavender thong that rode her ass as hard as I wished that I were. She climbed the pole, held on to it like a lover, and let her legs fly out behind her as she slowly twirled back down.

My shit was hard as hell in my pants, and that fact alone pissed me off. I never fucked with my dancers. She wasn’t currently working for me, but if she was auditioning to work for me, I wouldn’t touch her.

When the two of them finished the dance, I saw Brandon moving quickly toward her to remove her. That was the first time that I realized that Kevin and Porter were standing behind him with two other women.

“The fuck is this shit?” I hissed.

“What do you want us to do with them, Bossman?” Sam asked.

“Bring all their asses, including Fantasie, to my office. Now!” I barked and stormed off.

Within five minutes, they were outside of my office.

“Send them in, Sam,” I stated after I had finished preparing my cigar to smoke.

He nodded and ushered the women into the room.

“The fuck y’all think this is?” I asked.

Three of the women looked nervously at each other before looking at me.

“If you can’t speak for your damn self, you had no right being in this club.”

“Smoke, I was in the middle of a performance when—”

“Shut that shit up, Fantasie. I don’t wanna hear that shit. Your ass was on that stage with her.”

“I didn’t want to create a bad look by leaving, Smoke. I thought it was best if—”

“You thought, huh? I don’t pay your ass to think. I pay your ass to dance.”

---