Move in quick, make them an offer they'd be crazy to refuse. After my bumbling, rambling crazy sounding proposal in the stockroom, I needed to tighten up my offer. I needed to get back the sharp edge I used for every business deal. Because in the long run, that's what this would be.
"Two weeks. A hundred thousand dollars wired straight into your bank account for services rendered," I called from the porch.
She stopped and stared at her crumbling little car, weighted down with her belongings. I was sure she'd keep walking. But she turned back around. "Services rendered? I told you, I'm not a whore."
"I'm not asking for sex. I will ask you to strip for me and wear sexy lingerie and do things that will turn me on. Although, trust me, you won't need to do much because I was turned on just watching you walk to your car." I walked cautiously down the steps, worried I might scare her off like a timid deer in the forest. Especially after my last comment. But she wasn't a timid deer. I didn't know much about her except that every inch of her was seductive, and it seemed she was a woman who knew how to survive.
"I don't understand. Why on earth would you pay me to stand around in sexy lingerie? And just to be clear, the good stuff, not the cheap polyester stuff with itchy lace?"
I smiled. "Yes, the good stuff."
"You still haven't said why."
I was certain if I told her the real reason, that I needed to kick the pussy habit with a harsh form of self-denial, she'd climb into her car and never look back. I sure as hell would. "Let's just say it's a form of mental training. I'm trying to break a habit of sorts."
"Like aversion therapy? So I'd be playing the part of the painful shock when you think about . . ." She searched my face as if she could find an answer there. "Exactly what kind of habit are you trying to break?"
"One that's been getting in the way of my focus. And no, you wouldn't be the painful electric shock. The opposite in fact. I do things differently than most people. If I was trying to lose weight, I'd place slices of chocolate cake around the house to build up my self-control."
"So I'd be the chocolate cake?" She hugged herself against the cold breeze wafting on shore. "Better than electric shock, I guess."
"Yes, you'd be the tempting chocolate cake. I won't touch you. You'll be free to do as you please, and you can even leave the house for short times, if needed. But you'll need to quit the strip club and sign a non-disclosure clause. You'll be able to talk to friends, but you won't be able to tell anyone what you're doing here."
The onshore breeze was kicking up. She pushed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets to warm them. "Why not?"
"It's no one else's business."
"Then I just stand around in your house all day, wearing skimpy clothes and admiring the view?"
"Pretty much."
She tilted her head to the side. "What if you fall in love with me?"
"That won't happen."
She laughed. "Sure didn't take you long to come to that conclusion. You could have added just a hint of a pause before you blurted that."
"This isn't about feelings. None of this will have to do with emotion of any kind. It's a business proposition. That's all."
"You sure know how to charm a girl. But you know what, my intuition is telling me to pass. After all, you are obviously rich and you are that perfectly dark and edgy looking type that women swoon for. I'm sure you've got a phone full of numbers. A different girl for each day of the week. I don't know why you'd need me." She swung around to her car and then spun right back. "In fact, that's a good question. Why me?"
I moved a few feet closer, but not too close, still working on the assumption that she didn't trust me at all. "Seriously? You have to ask that? Maybe it has escaped your notice that the entire Fantasm Club breaks down into chaos when you float onto stage."
She shrugged. "I stay in my head when I'm dancing. It makes stripping a lot easier."
"That makes sense."
She glanced out to the beach where the sun was starting to drop on the horizon. The thin clouds were tinted orange and pink. "It's beautiful here," she said quietly and faced me again. "What if I fall in love with you?"
"Trust me, there is not a damn thing loveable about me." I smiled weakly. "What do you say? Should I have a contract written up?"
She shook her head and her long bangs fluttered in the breeze. A strand of blonde hair curled around her full bottom lip. "As much as I need money and a place to stay, I don't think this is for me. Thank you. I'm flattered by the offer . . . I think." She climbed into her car, and after three or four attempts the engine turned over. A steady stream of exhaust followed her shambling car down the driveway.