Free Trouble by Sasha Whte Page A

glasses set on the table. “Congratulations, Joey. I hope this is your big break.”
    After sharing a toast with them, he winked at Samair and disappeared in the crowd.

14
     
     
     
     
    D espair was heavy in Val’s gut as he stared at the numbers in front of him.
    Three weeks. He had three weeks left to raise fifty thousand dollars. That was over fifteen thousand a week, free and clear of the club’s normal running expenses, and he had no way to do it. The account pages he’d printed from his computer weren’t giving him any brilliant ideas, but he didn’t know where else to look.
    His head fell back against the chair and he closed his eyes. He needed an idea. A big one. An event that wouldn’t cost him much to put together, but would bring in a large crowd with money to spend.
    In his mind he pictured the warehouse when he’d bought it. It had taken more than money to turn it into the club it was now. Sex sells for sure, but he’d made sure to keep it classy.
    He’d worked the club himself every night. Sometimes he worked the bar, sometimes he’d worked the door. Unable to afford to pay dancers, but wanting to keep the cages as a classy feature and not a trashy fixture, he’d gotten the idea to make the cages exclusive only to dancers who passed an audition. In return for dancing for him, he gave them perks like never having to pay the cover, use of the VIP area or private party room for no charge, and occasional bar tabs.
    Nothing but pure determination and guts had helped him get Risqué started, and slowly business had picked up. He’d reinvested every penny and kept building and improving the place. And it had paid off.
    His club was now one of the hottest in town. He was bringing in a steadily growing income that would make any businessman proud. Only it wasn’t enough.
    The club would’ve been his, free and clear, in less than a year at the rate he was going. But it wasn’t enough; Vera had to fuck it up. Spoiled little rich girl that she was, she’d taken him leaving her as a sign of war and she was hitting him where it hurt. And it hurt real bad.
    What the fuck was he gonna do?
    The sharp peal of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts and he snatched it off the desk. The caller ID read Private Number.
    “Hello.”
    “I’d like to live out another fantasy, please.”
    Samair.
    He eyed the papers spread across his desk. The numbers weren’t going to change on their own, and he really shouldn’t let himself get distracted.
    “Val?”
    Maybe a little distraction was just what he needed. Something to rejuvenate his fighting spirit. “You called the right man.”
    Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang and Val glanced at his watch in surprise. She was on time. He put the unopened beer in his hand back on the shelf, and closed the fridge.
    Sure steps brought him to the front door, and when he opened it his mouth went dry.
    With her blond hair tousled, her blue eyes sparkling, and her curves covered up by a shiny black PVC coat, Samair looked like an angel recently kicked out of heaven for misbehaving . . . and glad of it.
    The fair skin at her throat sparkled with some sort of glitter, leading his eyes to the shadowed cleavage showcased by the mini trench coat. With the jacket cinched tight at her waist, it flared out to end at mid-thigh and left lots of leg to drool over.
    Like the skirt she’d worn the other night, it brought one thought to his mind: easy access. “Are you wearing panties under that?”
    “That’s for me to know,” she said as she stepped past him to enter the house, “and you to find out.”
    Her scent filled his head and his body tightened. His dick was waking up fast.
    She’d stopped in the middle of the small entranceway and was looking around. The apartment was nothing special, and for the first time since he’d moved in there, he cared what someone thought. When he left Vera, he hadn’t really cared where he lived, as long as it was far from his ex. He spent