Page 4 of Becoming

“Ms. Pryce. You don’t strike me as a woman who would take a meeting with a stranger about your business without knowing everything there is to know about them. And, knowing Professor Brundt as I do, he would be completely upfront with you about who he’s sending.” Samantha’s smirk turned to something resembling admiration, but Rebecca wasn’t finished. She stood. “Perhaps this is a test to see if I would be intimidated by you. I’m not. You’ve kept me waiting and then you greet me with insults. If this is how you do business, Ms. Pryce, I’m not interested in getting involved.”

“Well, well,” Samantha grinned charmingly. “Jim was right. You are spirited.”

“I prefer to think of myself as driven and professional,” Rebecca countered. Ever the feminist, she wasn’t about to let someone belittle her will to become successful. Especially another woman.

The woman threw her hands in the air in surrender and laughed. “Okay, okay. I apologize if I offended you.”

Rebecca lifted a blonde brow. For some reason, she didn’t think Samantha Pryce apologized very often. Hell, she wasn’t even sure it was sincere.

“Do you know what it is that we do here, Miss Cuinn?” the older woman asked, proving to Rebecca that she knew exactly who she was.

“I don’t,” she admitted readily. “Though I imagine that’s by design as well.”

Samantha stood as well, accentuating the height difference. She looked down at Rebecca with that smirk of hers. “Some would consider your candor a challenge.” She gestured to the door. “Come with me. I’ll show you around and tell you what I’m looking to do.”

Rebecca—momentarily thrown off by the “challenge” statement—followed dutifully. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness they walked into. Through the low light, she saw exactly what she was getting herself into. The dark room—illuminated only by the soft lighting of multi-colored bulbs that lined the ceiling—was trimmed in plush, red velvet. High backed chairs and booths encircled a black, glossy stage. In the middle of that stage was a brass pole. A scantily clad, huge breasted woman strutted by as if conjured up by some spirit with a sense of humor. She gave Samantha a sexy grin and the evil eye to Rebecca.

“This is Rebecca Cuinn, Gigi. She’s a VIP. Anything she wants, you get. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am. Should I bring drinks?”

Samantha looked at Rebecca for an answer. When she received a negative shake of the head, she dismissed the young—man, she had big tits!—woman with a flick of the wrist.

“A strip club?” Rebecca asked haughtily. Surely, her skills were better than some titty bar!

Samantha frowned. “It’s more than a strip club, Miss Cuinn. We’re a “Gentlemen’s Club” if you will. Though more than half of our clientele is women.” She paused until Rebecca looked up at her. “Women who like women. Does that bother you?”

Another test, Rebecca thought with a mental eye roll. “Why should it?”

“You sounded relatively concerned about what goes on in our fine establishment. It’s only natural to assume…”

“My concern, as you called it, Ms. Pryce, was more surprise. And, seeing as I’m a lesbian myself, it would be hypocritical of me to be bothered by it.”

Samantha smiled. It was a smile that Rebecca could only define as predatory and her blood heated as it traveled south. She couldn’t understand her reaction to the smug woman. It wasn’t like Rebecca to mix business with pleasure. Her “pleasure” was a well thought out, successful business plan. Shit. Maybe she was boring.

“What exactly is it that you do for fun, Miss Cuinn?” Samantha asked, eerily paralleling Rebecca’s inner thoughts.

“Is that relevant to this meeting?” she answered before thinking.

Samantha took a step closer making Rebecca feel slightly claustrophobic. And hot. “If I said it was?”

Rebecca tilted her head up and cleared her throat. “I’m working on a double degree, Ms. Pryce. There’s a reason Professor Brundt sent me to you.” Though, now that she thought about that, how in the hell did stodgy Professor Brundt know about a place like this? “I’m very good at what I do, despite my age. That means I don’t have time for much else.”

“Hmm.”

That was the only response Samantha gave before turning and walking away. Rebecca wasn’t sure if she should follow or if she had been dismissed. She erred on the side of caution and jogged to catch up with the taller woman’s long strides. When Samantha came to an abrupt stop in front of a row of doors, Rebecca narrowly missed running into her.

“These,” Samantha pivoted just in time to see Rebecca taking a step back. She smiled that predatory smile again and continued. “These are the rooms we use for private lap dances. I have a vision for them. I have a vision for this whole place. That’s why you’re here.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to expand our horizons. Instead of just lap dances in here, I want to equip them for more… fun.”

Despite Rebecca’s uneasiness with where she thought this was headed, she pressed on. “Fun?”

“Yes. Each room,” she pointed at them to emphasize her point, “will be a distinct color. Each color will represent the experience level of the occupants. Or, what they’re willing to try.”

“What exactly are we talking about, Ms. Pryce?”

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