Page 19 of Wanting Mr Black
“Things changed.”
“What did?”
“The goalposts.”
“I don’t understand. For God’s sake, just explain what you mean.”
He frowns at the memory. “For me, it was purely a physical thing, but the woman who introduced me to the club and who I often partnered up with started hinting at more.”
“More?”
“A relationship.”
“And you didn’t want that?”
“No. That’s not what it was about for me.” He shakes his head. “And I stopped enjoying it. When I’d first gone, I’d gotten a real kick out of it, but that changed, so I stopped going.” He stares out into the room. “Come on. There’s one thing left to show you.”
His sexual past is just another layer I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of. But I will. For now, I accept the abrupt end to the conversation and follow him through a door markedStaff Only, which leads into a narrower corridor.
“That’s the dressing room where the dancers get ready.” He nods towards a door off to the left. “And this is the manager’s office.”
He pushes open a door that leads into a small room. A large desk runs the length of the right side of the room, and ten TV screens are mounted across the wall, each displaying different shots of the interior and exterior of the club.
“Wow, Big Brother’s watching,” I say, looking up at the wall of screens.
“This is where we keep an eye on things.” He pushes his hands into his pockets and leans back against the desk. “If I’m ever here, this is where you’ll find me.”
“So, did you see me on one of those screens when we turned up on Saturday night, or did Big Steve tip you off?”
“Big Steve.”
I thought as much.
I lean against the desk beside him. “I got to talking to one of the girls while you were on the phone,” I say. “Red. She seems nice.”
“She’s been here a while. She’s one of the most popular dancers.”
I think back to our conversation. “She spoke highly of you. Said how the club had been a dive before you took it over.”
“Like I said, I had to sink a lot of money into the place. It wasn’t right to expect anyone to work in those conditions. Some people hear the wordsstrip cluband think of sleazy guys throwing money at strippers in exchange for whatever they want.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Certainly not here. The dancers hold the power. If a guy asks for a private danceand the dancer doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t do it. Simple. It’s completely up to her. There’s no touching, no extras; it’s all above board.”
It sounds empowering rather than in any way degrading.
“So, do the dancers work for you?”
“They’re self-employed. They pay a house fee every shift, which rents them the use of the pole and stage for their dances. That’s the best way for them to get noticed by customers. Then, a customer can request a private dance, which is where the girls earn the most money.” He glances at me. “How do you feel about the club now?”
“Better,” I admit. “It still might take me a while to get totally used to the idea.”
What I’ve seen today confirms it’s just a business, but the reason for buying it in the first place still puzzles me slightly. It’s a big leap from gym owner to strip club owner even if he is a businessman and it came at the right price.
“Everything … it’s all to do with his past, you know.”
Barbara’s words echo in my thoughts as I survey the room, and suddenly, everything clicks into place.
“You bought this place because of your birth mother, didn’t you?” I say quietly.
Five long seconds pass before he answers, “I can’t help wondering if she’d worked somewhere like this, where she was supported and looked after, if that would have meant she could have kept me.”