Now, as is often expected, much of the populace who saw the lifestyle, behaviour and workplace 'benefits' of a strip club and adult entertainment businessman, often came up with their own idea about the daily life of said businessman. People, by their very nature, often didn't consider the difficulties that come with running an establishment and only ever imagined the good, fun bits.
Take the House of Ecstasy for example! Many of those who aren't in the know or who never worked in this field, would often assume that my business was all fun and games! Two bars on opposite sides of the main foyer, meaning high quality drinks whenever you want! Private office with a mini bar! More drinks all for me! Security guards all under your command, a private army!
Super sexy women that you can watch strip whenever you want!
But, and this sometimes surprises people; running a business is fucking difficult.
Managing payrolls, abiding by workplace safety regulations, keeping up with maintenance, repairs, checking the stock, making sure that suppliers are delivering their product, advertising, not to mention keeping yourself, or more accurately your business, 'hip.' Apologies for the stupid analogy, but it's true. People were fickle, and often flocked from one trend to another.
Basically, business wasn't all fun and games. There were days where managing the House left me tired, and more than once I've slumped over my desk, and simply passed out for a few hours. Sometimes, the House wore me down.
But not today baby!
"I cannot believe you convinced me to do this," Blake grumbled, her face pressed into a cushion to hide an invading blush, her body laid over my lap, naked, her arms under the cushion she was resting her head on.
"I'll refrain from answering that comment for fear that you hit me," I intoned. Huffing, she turned her face away from me, and over to the television that I had wheeled into my office.
Today was a good day.
I mentioned that Blake was naked and laid across my lap, of course, but I haven't mentioned yet that there were little mini cupcakes and biscuits laid on her shoulders and back, of which yours truly was snacking on. Why did I want to do this you ask?
I'm the owner of an adult entertainer establishment, I feel like I'm lawfully required to do fuck shit like this. And, eating some snacks from a beautiful girl's body was kinda fun, I admit.
"But why did you feel the need to ask me to do this?" Blake asked incredulously, eyeing me from her spot on my lap. I hummed in thought, taking a biscuit and slipping it towards Blake's lips. Her mouth lips you pervs. She took a bite, whilst I flipped through a few channels for anything interesting.
"Okay, let me see if I can explain this," I began, placing the remote on the arm of the loveseat, finally finding a show that seemed at least somewhat interesting. Some old military comedy about a group of really funny doctors and nurses in a war, and dealing with the terrible things they put up with on a daily basis through comedy. I loved this show.
"So, that explanation?" Blake questioned.
"Right; so, for any woman loving guy, such as myself, there are two things in the world that we love most. Those being of course A, sexy women, and B, food. So, why not combine the 2?" I told her. She huffed, rolling her eyes, unamused, but placed her head back onto the cushion, and decided to relax.
Grabbing one of the mini cupcakes off her back, I took a bite, thoroughly enjoying my day. I mean, I'm allowed to have some fun, right? All work and no play makes Franc a dull boy!
Plus I got to look at Blakes fine ass, so that was a bonus.
"Hey Boss, can I ask a question?" I heard her ask. Turning to look at her, I saw that she had a shy, almost bashful expression on her face. I nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
"I'm uh, I'm planning to eventually try and get in contact with my family. It's, it's been a while," she stuttered. Wow, really? That was, well, surprising, honestly. From what she's told me, it's been a couple years since she has seen them.
"Okay, I understand. I think that's a good thing, myself. Is it?" I asked. She shrugged, seemingly unsure. Raising an eyebrow, I gesture for her to continue.
"Alright, so, you know the basics, right? That I, you know, came from Menagerie. I tried to help bring back the old Fang, help Faunus everywhere. But, I failed," she explained, turning her head away, expression morose. Sighing, I slowly placed the food on her back onto a tray near the loveseat, and turned off the television. Grabbing a paper towel, I propped her up, brushing the crumbs off her body.
Blake's expression was one of regret, and she placed her head on my chest, curling herself into a ball.
"Before I left, I got into this huge argument with my parents. I said some stuff that I've been regretting for the last 2 years, and I haven't been able to call them back to apologise. They don't know about anything that's happened the last 24 months! And I wanna talk to them again, but I just don't know how to start." Oh, oh dear. This is going to require a lot of tact. Her eyes were watery, little sniffles and whimpers being all she could let out.
Taking a deep breath, I carefully tried to advise her.
"Alright Blake, let me think. I'll of course help you reconnect with your folks. But you gotta ask yourself, how much are you gonna tell them? Cause, I'm not sure what your parents are like, but I don't know if they would be so happy with you as a, yah know, adult dancer," I told her. She nodded, of course agreeing. Not many parents would be happy with their daughter becoming an adult dancer, no matter how good the working conditions and pay.
"But I can't just ignore them forever! They've called me multiple times, and each time, I'm just-, not able to answer," she cried, voice wavering. It was a stark contrast to how her usual attitude was. Confidently mysterious, unwavering, besides a few instances. But our Blake was never one to shed a tear so easily.
The only real issue was her job, if she wasn't a dancer she probably wouldn't be quite so wary of calling her parents, and I couldn't just give her a different job specifically for a call!
Or . . . Maybe I could? I just had an idea!
"Uhm, are you sure about this?" Blake asked, looking at me as I cleaned up the bar counter. For a change, Blake was sat behind the bar, dressed in a spare bartender uniform. White dress shirt, grey and black vest, and a black tie, with a pair of black trousers for the male bartenders and a black skirt that reached a bit above the knees for the female.
The shirt was a little small, and kind of made her chest, how should I say? Noticeable. She looked good! And, more importantly, like she wasn't dancing for a crowd.
A little white lie never hurt anyone.
"Sure, it'll be fine. We're closed, and most of the girls are off home. Just tell them little sprinkles of truth to keep the story believable, okay?" I instructed her. She nodded, seeming nervous, before taking out her scroll and propping it against an empty pitcher so that it faced her.
Looking at me, I gave her a thumbs up, causing her to anxiously smile.
I leaned on the counter, just in front of her, on standby for any assistance. Blake started the call to her parents' number.
It didn't take 10 seconds before the call was accepted.
'Blake! Blake is that you? Where are you-? Ah, GHIRA! Ghira get down here, your daughter is calling! Blake, where have you been, we've been so worried!'
D'awwww, Blake's mum sounded nice.
"H-Hi mum. Ah, yeah I'm calling. I'm a little, late, obviously. Uhm, I'm calling because- . . ." Blake began, halting halfway through, hitting a mental block on what to say. I imagine she's had a hundred mental conversations since coming here, going through all the possible outcomes. But in the moment, I figured that any structure for conversation she had just flew out the window.
'Ghira Belladonna sit down already, our daughter is calling and you're taking forever!' I heard her mum admonish.
'I'm coming woman, I'm coming. I was in the shower,' a male voice groused, likely who I could only assume was Blake's dad. Far from excited or nervous, Blake suddenly looked disgusted.
"Dad! Put on a shirt! C'mon!" She exclaimed.
Well, that explained it.
'Ignore him honey, he's still . . . Himself. But you! Where are you sweetie, is that a work uniform? What's happened in the last 2 years, there's so much to talk about!' Blake's mum ranted.
"I know, you're right. It's been too long, and, it's my fault for that. I've been wanting to apologise for a while now, but, I've been so afraid and ashamed that-, I just couldn't," Blake cried, tears threatening to fall at any moment. I must admit, I felt like I was intruding on something very personal, which I technically was. But Blake had said that she didn't want to do it alone.
'I know sweetie. Emotions can make people do silly things, and we're not exempt from that. We should have been more supportive, instead we got angry at things from the past and helped drive the wedge between us,' Her Dad advised, speaking in an apologetic tone. Wow, a parent admitting to fault. Wonder what that feels like?
"I-, I'm sorry guys. I'm really, really sorry. I should have listened, or tried to keep contact at least," Blake whimpered, wrapping her arms around her torso, sniffling, her emotions getting to her.
I took out my handkerchief and laid it on the counter, just out of sight of the scroll call.
Taking it, she dabbed at her tears, doing her best to calm herself down.
'Oh sweetie, it's okay, you'll always be our daughter, and we'll always love you. We just want you to be safe and happy! Have you been okay? Do you need help with anything?' Her mum asked. Blake shook her head, putting the handkerchief on the table, her eyes now dry, if a little red from the crying.
"N-no, no, I'm fine. I have a job and an apartment, so I'm not worrying about possibly being homeless. Thanks for the offer," she explained, leaning on the counter to stabilise herself.
'Oh yes, you're working, that's good! Where are you living sweetie? Maybe we can plan a visit!' Blake's mum asked.
Heeeeeere we go.
Taking a deep breath, Blake mentally prepared herself to tell them the truth, mixed with some little, itty, bitty white lies.
"I'm uh, living in Vale, on the north side, as a bartender," she tentatively told them. I couldn't see her parents' faces, but I could already imagine the expressions they surely had when hearing their beloved daughter was living in Remnant's very own City of Sin.
Vale, the city with the most rampant drug use, sexual deviancy, and gang activity. Fucking aye.
'A-ah, Vale! That's very-, i-interesting! Are you sure that you don't need a little help?' Her mum questioned, voice very suddenly stressed.
"No, mum, I'm okay. It's just bartending, I'm not taking my clothes off on stage for anyone," Blake answered, technically telling the truth. She hasn't stripped on stage or for, as I know, anyone else! Technically just me so I could eat baked goods off her naked back. But, they didn't need to know that.
'Sweetheart, Vale is a very, ahem, distressing city for many people. If you need help, you can always ask, there's really no trouble,' Her dad offered, his voice also stressed, but also tinged with a good deal of protectiveness.
Shaking her head, she chuckled, likely familiar with the defensive but loving nature of her parents.
"No dad, like I said, I'm fine. Things had been tough in the beginning, but I managed to get a job that lets me keep my clothes on," she lied, gaining a little confidence as the conversation went on, standing a little straighter.
'Blake, sweetheart, just please tell the truth, are you really a bartender, or something else?' Her mum asked, voice dripping with a new sadness that wasn't there before. Blake's confidence in our lie shattered like a shitty dinner plate being thrown against a hard, merciless, cobblestone floor.
"Uhm-! Well, I-I don't, maybe I-!" Blake floundered, completely thrown off by her parents ability to see through the half truths.
'Honey, we raised you. We changed your diapers and went through every phase and childhood trend. We can tell when you lie,' her father told her, causing Blake to sigh, her shoulders sagging. She then turned and looked at me accusingly.
Oh, look at the time, got to go!
I made to walk off, only for Blake to call me back aggressively.
"You get back here Eclair! Mr 'ooooh, just tell a little white lie so they don't worry, blah blah blah!' You're part of this conversation now, congratulations!"
Shit, she was mad.
I considered running like a motherfucker, figuring that I could outrun her until she eventually calmed down to the point that she wouldn't kill me. But then I reconsidered, and figured that it would just give her an opportunity to calmly think of ways to assassinate me. Sighing, I accepted my fate, straightening my posture and figuring that I should at least pretend to be confident.
Turning, I was immediately face to face with Blake's scroll, looking into the eyes of a pair of very angry parents.
On the left was her dad, who holy shit, looked like he worked out with cinder blocks and tree logs. Dark of hair, and with a tanned complexion, with a thick beard and arm hair that gave him a super manly appearance. I really thought it possible that he may hunt me down and rip me in half. Might have to forewarn Grover about that.
On the right however was Blake's mum, who, without being disrespectful, was an exceptionally beautiful woman. If she was any hint of what Blake would look like in 20 or 30 years, then god damn she would grow to be a fine MILF. Her mum had a shorter haircut then Blake, with earrings in her cat ears and a few wrinkles here and there as a sign of age. Yet besides all that, she was almost the spitting image of her daughter.
"Ah. Hello there-, uhm-," I began, not knowing their names. Or how to proceed.
"Khali and Ghira Belladonna," Blake told me, voice devoid of any amusement or sympathy. Shit, I was on my own here.
"Right, ahem! Hello there, Mrs Belladonna, Mr Belladonna. So, firstly, my name is Franc Eclair of the House of Ecstasy business. Yooooou likely have questions-"
They interrupted me, aggravated.
'You can bet your ass we do! How did our daughter get employed by you! When?! It better not have been after she left, she was only 17! She has no business being in a dirty club, you filthy man!' Her mother, Khali, chastised me, fiery and really attractive while doing so.
I should stop.
Clearing my throat, I instead go for a more professional approach.
"Well, pardon me ma'am, but I would bet money that my business is many times cleaner than your own home! We take sanitation very seriously! Not to mention, we are not just some club you find on the corner of some seedy little street!" I argued, standing straight as an arrow, countering her words not angrily, but sternly. I strutted over to the counter, needing a belt, actively ignoring Blake's look of accusing incredulity.
Walking behind the counter, I pulled out a glass and some stuff for making a cocktail. Chugging a cup of straight liquor probably wouldn't endear Blake's parents to me all that much, no matter how much I want to shove a bottle of beer into my gullet.
"The House of Ecstasy is a business with almost 120,000 square feet of space, with 90 members of employment including wait staff, cooks, maintenance workers and off-site managerial personnel, not to mention a team of security staff! While I understand the position of two people protecting their child, in no way, shape or form will I allow untrue or fraudulent statements be made against my business! So if we're to have an adult conversation going forward, I suggest you check your biases at the door, thank you!"
And with that declaration, I tilted my head back, and sipped on my now finished drink, which I had crafted as I ranted. Rather impressive of me, if I do say so myself. Now feeling pretty fucking confident, I gently placed my cocktail, a Vieux Carré, back onto the counter, and stared down the now shocked Belladonna parents.
Yeah, that's right, I'm the boss here! Not you!
'I . . . See. Very well then, uhm. Mr Eclair, what assurances can you give us that our daughter is and will continue to be treated fairly at your business?' Khali weakly asked, shocked into politeness. Good job Franc.
Snapping my fingers, I gestured for Blake to show me her arm. Obediently, she held her hand out, in a staggered silence. Gently taking her arm, I held it up near the scroll camera, showing off the beeper bracelet.
"Alright, see that black band around Blake's wrist? That's a beeper, a warning system every performer I have wears. If anything happens, a toxic guest causing issues for instance, they can hit this beeper, and it'll send an immediate signal to the nearest scroll that is held by a member of security. It tells them 2 things, A, whose beeper was pressed, and B, where that person is. Both functions only work when the beeper is turned on," I explained. The two, while of course still feeling suspicious, seemed to have a little weight taken off their shoulders once they saw that some security measures were actually in place. I continued.
"Besides that, security guards patrol the place constantly during our working hours. The girls have all been instructed that if a guard is in sight and she has an issue that needs fixing, then they are to approach the guard, and follow a very carefully constructed procedure, which includes a code sentence to warn the guard without immediately saying the issue," I further expounded, sipping my drink whilst gesturing to the House at large. Blake, now broken from her minor stupor, turned the Scroll around and put us both in frame.
"It's only fair that I also come to his defence a little bit. I've actually got some good friends here, and while I do work in, well, a strip club, I don't actually remove my clothes for anyone. It's an option, we don't have to if we don't wanna," she explained. Her parents blinked, clearly surprised, turning to look at me. I nodded.
"True. Of the 9 girls who perform on stage, currently 3 actually strip. Although Yang and Glynda have told me they reconsidered," I said, causing Blake to blink in surprise, much like her parents just did. The similarity is very apparent.
"I mean, Yang doesn't surprise me, but Glynda? She didn't seem the type," she asked, a little perplexed. I nodded, sipping the rest of my drink and chucking out the fixings, cleaning the glass.
"She wanted to get you and the other girls up to snuff first. She's the most experienced member, and wanted to impart some good old knowledge on you and the others first, before she returned to stage for any amount of time. I don't think she's actively performed since opening night and just interacted with guests up to this point," I told her, reaching into a cabinet under the counter and pulling out a jar of cashews to snack on, "and even then, she'll likely only dance once a week. She's more focused on keeping this place afloat. Well, that and basically helping you girls out."
Blake hummed, surprised at the revelation.
'Uhm, that's all well and good, but can we please keep on topic?' Ghira asked, bringing both our attention back to the scroll. I chewed on some cashews, and gestured for them to go on.
'Mr Eclair, please, you have to understand. Blake is our only child, she means the world to us. We just don't want her to fall prey to some awful person looking to hurt her. Now, we're not saying that person is you, but Vale is filled with terrible men and women, and we're concerned,' Khali said, voice emotional and her expression dour, cat ears limp. Sighing, I turned to face them, equally serious.
"I get what you mean, Ma'am, but frankly, if she goes anywhere, there'll be an element of danger. Atlas has the most powerful individual gang in the world, Mistral has a police force ripe with corruption, Vacuo's, well, frankly shit. Even Menagerie, your own island, is facing problems. You have a lionfish infestation that's slowly destroying your coral reefs and diminishing the fish population. There's literally nowhere you go that doesn't have issues," I said, voice even, but stern. I continued, tossing cashews into the air and catching them in my mouth.
"With that being said, Blake's position in my business means I take on a responsibility to keep her safe. It's something I take with utmost seriousness. Whatever situation that arises, she, as my employee, is able to approach me with and ask for help, and I'll happily provide it," I further expanded.
Her parents sighed, their conflicted feelings dragging their mood down, clearly having issues with their daughter working for, well, me, but wanting to believe that she was still taking care of herself.
It must be very difficult to be a parent. Doubt I'd ever know what that feels like though.
"Mum, Dad, I swear I'm fine. This isn't the type of work I thought I'd be doing either, but frankly, I could be doing so much worse. I'm paid well, I have friends, and my boss, despite being a quirky twit!-"
"Oi!"
"He's alright. I'm okay, I promise," Blake swore, now turning the scroll to face only her. I couldn't see them, obviously, but I imagined they were sharing some looks with each other, silently conversing on deciding what to do and how to react.
'Alright Blake. We'll cut you a deal, okay? We'll leave the issue of your work be, we'll hold back any feelings on the matter, as long as you call us once a week. We want you to keep up contact with us, okay? Does that sound fair?' Khali offered, a touch desperate and hoping that Blake wouldn't cut them out again.
"Of course! I-I'll call on, how about Mondays? Th-that's our slowest day, so it'll be easiest," she offered, jumping on the chance to establish contact with her parents again. They themselves gave a watery chuckle, nodding, and sending their love to their daughter, and promising to call each other again.
After sending some air kisses, and another couple watery goodbyes, Blake finally ended the call, seeming happy, but overwhelmed. Placing the jar of cashews back into their cupboard, I approached her, standing a couple feet away, waiting.
"You okay Blake?" I gently asked her, causing her to nod, sniffling slightly. Before I could ask her further, she lunged, and wrapped her arms around my chest. Surprised, it took me a second to reciprocate the hug, resting my chin between her ears, careful not to hurt them.
"I've really missed them. So, so much! But I was so scared, a-and if you didn't agree to help me, I'm not sure I would ever contact them! I couldn't do it myself, not even after so many years!" She sobbed, pressing her face to my chest and really tightening that hug. Chuckling enigmatically, as best I could with that anaconda grip anyway, I pat her back, speaking in a calm voice.
"Ah, you'd have figured something out, I'm sure. You would have asked the girls, or maybe Glynda, and they would have helped. You'd have done fine," I soothed her, waving off her compliment, only for her to shake her head in disagreement.
"No, listen. The girls, they're great, but they're not the most mature at times, as much as I love them. Glynda would have been a good help too, but I don't think my parents would have listened so well if the other person backing me up would have been a dancer at the workplace they're worrying about," she argued, raising her head up from my chest to look me in the eye. "Seriously, I don't think they would have listened unless the words came from the horse's mouth. That rant of yours wouldn't have been so engaging if it came from anyone else!"
Oh yeah, that rant. Not sure where that came from if I'm honest. Maybe my pride and ego that stemmed from my business reared its ugly head, but unlike usual where an ego crushed its owner, in this case, it seems that it worked out in my favour!
"Heh, well, let's just agree that it was a team effort, okay?" I compromised. She seemed to playfully think on it for a moment, before nodding. Chuckling, we shared another hug.
This was nice. Maybe this whole 'being a good human being' wasn't so bad!
"Hey sis, come look at this, Blake and the Boss are about to fuck!" An incredibly loud voice yelled. Looking to the side, we saw Militia standing by the front door, one foot in and the other foot outside, calling out to her sister who seemed yet to make it to the door.
"What are you girls even doing here? We're closed," I groused, expression of dropping to one of annoyance. Blake's was similar, except hers was also riddled with shock and humiliation.
"We wanted to come back and practise some dances Glynda taught us. Didn't expect to come back to you and Blake about to go at it," Militia explained, with Melanie running up behind her, charging through the door.
"Did I miss it?! They fucking yet?!" She asked in a hurried voice. I shook my head, good feelings gone, whilst Blake sputtered, offended.
"We are most certainly not! Why do you only constantly think about sex?!" She exclaimed, face reddening as she stepped away from me, looking at the Twin's with sheer aggravation.
"Cause sex is fun and you need some, babe," Melanie quipped, Militia laughing uproariously at Blake's further reddening face. Sputtering, she groaned in emotional distress, and flipped both Twins off.
"D'awwww, sorry Blakey, you know we only tease you out of love," Militia teased, speaking in a voice one would typically use for babies. It only seemed to further incense Blake, who seemed ready to scream, only for her aggravation to stop just as suddenly as it began. Her face became eerily calm, making both the Twin's and myself raise an eyebrow in confusion. Without speaking a word, she grabbed my hand, and began leading me back up to my office.
"Uuuuh, Blake, sweetie? What're you doing?" Melanie asked, a little fearful of this odd calm from their testy black cat friend.
Turning, Blake, without uttering a single word, reached up to her vest, unbuttoned it, and let it fall. Her shirt very soon followed, and before we knew what was happening, her bra, leaving her chest entirely bare, and up for observing. After confirming that she had the full attention of both of the Twin's and I, she finally spoke.
"What am I doing? I thought it was obvious; I'm fucking the boss," she intoned, grabbing my tie and dragging me up to the office.
This good guy shit seemed to really pay off!