L
Lustful_Intentions
Guest
The Midwest was a terrible place to launch a club. At least, that’s what the investors who’d turned down Jack Fletcher’s solicitation to fund his new venture told him.
For Jack, not being one to doubt himself, the rejections had only served to further motivate him to dig deeper into his own savings, to borrow a bit more heavily, and to throw himself into building and promoting his new nightlife venture.
The money, earned after several years of successful work in developing games for mobile phones, wasn’t his concern. It was the unrelenting fear of failure that drove the 35 year old to the edge of panic attacks when he considered where his club stood today, just three weeks before the planned open date.
This was the thought that occupied him as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the heavy steel door that led into the club. To date, about the only thing that had gone well was the renovation of the three story, 12,000 square foot space from an old shipping warehouse on the water to the space he needed it to be. Raised platforms dotted the space around the dance floor, two large cages hung from the ceilings, and the 150 foot long bar at the west end was receiving its finishing touches.
The physical space was not the problem. The problem, in this mid-sized rust belt city, was the personnel. Jack’s plan was for go-go dancers to occupy the platforms and cages, executing what might be called routines designed to look like spontaneous, sensual dances-raising the energy on the floor and driving more activity at the bar.
But, getting dancers who were attractive, willing to dress the part, and put themselves through the training needed to do the job right was proving difficult. Truly, it was the training part that had gone badly. He’d asked a local girl who claimed to have some background to do it, with abysmal results.
Fed up, Jack had released her from her obligation two days ago. It was time for drastic measures. He’d called Kali, a girl a friend of his from California had told him could solve his problem. They’d talked on the phone a few times while negotiating the offer for her to come out and prop up the dancers for him, but tonight would be the first opportunity for them to meet.
He pushed the door shut behind him, ensuring that it latched before turning down the dark hallway. Jack could hear a thump of the speakers down the hall, coming from the main room of the club. Taking a deep breath, his dark green eyes adjusting to the dim light, he made his way towards the main room, hoping that Kali would be the answer to his troubles. If not, Jack's doubters might just be proved correct.
For Jack, not being one to doubt himself, the rejections had only served to further motivate him to dig deeper into his own savings, to borrow a bit more heavily, and to throw himself into building and promoting his new nightlife venture.
The money, earned after several years of successful work in developing games for mobile phones, wasn’t his concern. It was the unrelenting fear of failure that drove the 35 year old to the edge of panic attacks when he considered where his club stood today, just three weeks before the planned open date.
This was the thought that occupied him as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the heavy steel door that led into the club. To date, about the only thing that had gone well was the renovation of the three story, 12,000 square foot space from an old shipping warehouse on the water to the space he needed it to be. Raised platforms dotted the space around the dance floor, two large cages hung from the ceilings, and the 150 foot long bar at the west end was receiving its finishing touches.
The physical space was not the problem. The problem, in this mid-sized rust belt city, was the personnel. Jack’s plan was for go-go dancers to occupy the platforms and cages, executing what might be called routines designed to look like spontaneous, sensual dances-raising the energy on the floor and driving more activity at the bar.
But, getting dancers who were attractive, willing to dress the part, and put themselves through the training needed to do the job right was proving difficult. Truly, it was the training part that had gone badly. He’d asked a local girl who claimed to have some background to do it, with abysmal results.
Fed up, Jack had released her from her obligation two days ago. It was time for drastic measures. He’d called Kali, a girl a friend of his from California had told him could solve his problem. They’d talked on the phone a few times while negotiating the offer for her to come out and prop up the dancers for him, but tonight would be the first opportunity for them to meet.
He pushed the door shut behind him, ensuring that it latched before turning down the dark hallway. Jack could hear a thump of the speakers down the hall, coming from the main room of the club. Taking a deep breath, his dark green eyes adjusting to the dim light, he made his way towards the main room, hoping that Kali would be the answer to his troubles. If not, Jack's doubters might just be proved correct.