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A note to readers: This is a long story that unfolds chapter by chapter through the eyes of two protagonists — Mark and Elsa, and as in many of my other stories involves a growing spate of horny characters. Every ten chapters or so I will provide a short summary at the start of that episode to bring new readers up to date (see start of Ch. 60). This story could appear in a number of genres (Loving Wives, Incest, Lesbian, Fetish, and more) depending on the chapter, but the overall theme is Group, so I have applied this moniker to all chapters. The story is still being written, yet I intend to post a new chapter every couple of days. Enjoy.
Chapter 67 — Getting Into Adult Entertainment
Monday morning it was back to work after a fabulous weekend. The limousine was full as we rode into the city, chatting about the party and reading messages about it to each other from text and email messages we’d received. The party had been the largest we’d done where there was unbridled sex, with about eighty people joining in the bacchanal. If we didn’t make the headlines as a result it wasn’t for lack of trying. As it turned out, nothing on the media front happened.
We’d cooked on the barbecue again the night before, but for a much smaller crowd. I didn’t mind the chef’s role, specifically because I loved the way the meats tasted afterwards. We did ribs beside the usual burgers, dogs, and chicken, and then also had leftovers. We nudged most of the people out the door after dinner except for those staying over at the house, which included Nils and Brita, and Tom. The latter two were in the limo with us, as we’d arranged meetings at Worthington’s HQ with them.
The morning limousine started to drop off people at their place of work: Cindy was the first, then Elsa, and then KC at her gallery. Behind us, a security man or woman got out of the trailing war wagon to accompany them for the day. Things were relaxed again since we had no security threats and expected none.
When we got to the Worthington HQ building, I led Brita, Izzy, Sheila, Melanie, and Tom into the building, followed by Lucas. Brita and her head of security had dispensed with having security people accompany her to the U.S. when she was with me; we had sufficient coverage to guarantee protection at my level and that was acceptable to them and minimized the parade of obvious bodyguards around the place.
Izzy raced around and organized a large coffee and pastry delivery for all of us. Tom carried his cup off to the commercial products area of the building to meet with some others in that division.
Brita and I sat down. She insightfully said, ‘OK. You have an idea you want to bounce off of me.” She gave me a lascivious grin that suggested she wasn’t all about business.
I grinned at her. “There are at least four women I would like to do something special for, and I think it’d be easier in Denmark than in this country, but it deals with a part of the economy I know little about.”
Brita nodded, “I’m guessing the way you said it that it has to do with sex.”
“Right. Vanessa and Anna have done a lot of L.A. porn, but were wondering what it might be like to do some European films and import them back to the U.S. L.A. County has put all sorts of restrictions on the adult industry, in large measure to discourage it; some filming has moved to Las Vegas, but they have restrictions too. I think much of it is unconstitutional, but I’m probably on a minority.
“Along with Van and Anna, Felicia and Monica have a desire to be in some porn films. I don’t think they want a career in it, although I could be wrong. I think they want to test the waters and see what they can do and what it all feels like.”
Brita had started to laugh. She commented, “Been there, done that; although I was much younger and thinner. Felicia and Monica would be classified as cougars at this stage in their lives; Anna and Vanessa not so much. At least they’re all top model quality women.”
“What? You did videos?”
“One. I was at university and a few of us did it as an initiation into a social club of girls I liked, kind of like one of your college sororities. Others in my circle had done it in the past; a few continued during the rest of college and a couple even made it their starter jobs out of college.”
“Could I see this fabulous film you made? I must have a copy.”
Brita smiled, “I will send you one when I get home. You might see if you can buy one here. My stage name was Jean Jax, a little play on jacking off according to my director. At the time, I liked to jackoff guys as well as fuck, so that was a natural outfall for a name. The movie is almost twenty years old now and was a flaky little romance film, where I have sex with a guy güvenilir bahis and he falls in love with me only he’s not sure whether it’s me or the sex he loves. In the end, surprise! It turns out to be both. There were some group scenes in it too. I didn’t think I did too badly.”
I made a cryptic note on my desk about the video.
“Does anyone know you did it? Do you think it impacts your business?”
“If it does, I sure don’t know about it. We wore heavy makeup and wigs. No one has ever put that video and me together to my knowledge. It’s only available in VHS, so I think the likelihood goes down every day since the whole industry went to DVDs and even those are passé. It’s all streaming and downloads now.”
Brita volunteered, “I thought Felicia and the others also wanted a club where they could strip in front of a live audience. I though the video was only part of it. Van and Anna worked on and off in a club in L.A. as strippers. You need to find them one near here they could work at once in a while. I’d even dance there on the right night — with the right makeup and a wig.” She shimmied her sexy body at me. “Maybe it’s time for Jean Jax to make a return appearance.”
I tried to remember the conversation I’d had with the girls about their early careers. “I think you’re right. I got so into the video idea that I think I missed a few parts of that conversation. I like your idea of a club near here.”
Brita said, “Well, back to your idea about the porn videos for them. Yes, I could put them in touch with some people who I am sure could make something happen for them. Give me a week or so after I get back and I’ll do some research. Nils can help me too.”
“Could we make it a surprise? I’d love to fly them over, and then spring it on them in some way.”
Brita smiled, “Oh, I like setting up surprises for my friends. Let me see what I can do once I get home. This’ll be quite a change from the normal duties of the CEO of Danskpharma. ‘Hi, this is CEO Thorsen. Could you enquire about how one goes about doing porn films in this country? Who do we contact and so on? Now, about that beta-actase inhibitor …'”
I chuckled at her humor, “We can talk about it by phone if you can get anything set up. I’ll work on the club idea.”
Brita and I moved on in our conversation to some real business, specifically how we could beef up some research about the Zika virus and some meds to either prevent or cope once encountered. Our talk stretched my knowledge of virology and antigens. Brita was in her glory in the discussion, and liked the idea of contending with the outbreak and coming pandemic.
That evening, when I got home I pulled Elsa aside for a short talk. She looked surprised at my need for a confidential chat, but joined me in the office in the condo where we were all staying on weeknights.
“Elsa, there’s something I want to do, and I think with your knowledge of buildings and structures and the local geography, you’re the one to help me. I want to keep it quiet until completion so it can be a surprise to your sisters and a couple of our friends, specifically, Vanessa, Anna, Felicia, and Monica.”
She looked at me kind of funny, but I went on.
“I want to buy a … strip club.”
Elsa silently stared at me as though I’d lost my mind. I finally felt compelled to explain my thinking. “I like those four women I started the party with: Felicia, Monica, Van, and Anna, and their boyfriends — our flight instructors. They want to explore working in that environment and have some fun. They also want to do some porn videos, and I’ve got Brita working on that angle because so many localities in the U.S. have their heads up their ass about doing them. I thought if I got a nearby club, we could play there part of the time. It’d be fun.”
Elsa asked, “Do you know anything about running a nightclub?”
“Not the foggiest.”
“So, you’d get a manager to do it?”
“Yes. I should probably buy the place through a shell company too, so that I don’t show up as the owner. It might impact the bottomline of my other businesses as well as feed the sharks in the media. Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me make this happen. Andy and Jerry Roberts my chief counsel can be the contact points in Worthington; I’ll tell them what I’m doing. I thought I’d keep Cindy, Melanie, KC, Sheila, and Izzy in the dark until it’s a done deal and we can go into the place all together and suddenly enjoy VIP status and all.”
Elsa shifted around in her seat. “OK. Just for the sake of talking, describe to me what you think this place would be like inside and out.” I noted that she’d shifted into her architect mode.
I thought a minute and responded, “Outside would look like a club with good lighting türkçe bahis and parking. It would look clean, be in a safe neighborhood, and a guy might even think of bringing his girlfriend or wife there.
“Inside, it would be windowless. I like lasers. It would be sleek and flashy; modern looking; steel and glass; maybe a big attractive bar; booths so patrons could see the stage or even mess around with their dates; a stage for the girls to dance on, and maybe a couple of poles — don’t strippers do pole dancing? Anyway, it would look nice and night clubby as well as sexy and erotic. I’m really leaving it to you. What kind of place would you want to go to or work in? Oh, I do want the hottest women working there, like all those waitresses you had work for us last weekend. Where’d you get them from? They were hot. Maybe there’d be dancing for everyone part of the time too, more like a nightclub part of the time, and a strip joint the other part. The food should be good too. I’m wide open to suggestions.”
Elsa laughed, “The waitresses are a secret that only Cindy and I know. We’ll tell you sometime, but not now. I doubt any of them would want to work there full time, but we might get some special appearances from them the same as the four women you’re trying to impress. I’m glad you approved of the wait staff at our party.”
“Approved?” I said in mock horror. “I not only approved, I fucked two of them and they fucked back. They were super hot. Mandy and Ally, and of course I also romanced Zoé and Chloe who I’d met before. I hope you have them back again.”
Elsa teased, “Are you throwing us out and going with the waitresses now?”
“NO,” I protested. “I just had a nice time with them. I gave Mandy The Experience. She loves me.”
Elsa rolled her eyes and strolled away waving over her shoulder.
Where do you go when you’re looking for commercial real estate? Why your friendly, fuckable commercial real estate broker, that’s where.
Steve Malone had been a boyfriend a.k.a. fuck buddy of Sheila’s, and I recalled his background not only as a model who looked like Fabio on the cover of a thousand bodice-ripper novels, but also in commercial real estate. I got his number off the Internet and arranged to have coffee with him, swearing him to secrecy so word didn’t get back to Sheila.
We had lunch at a sandwich shop near my office, and I explained that I was looking to buy a strip joint — a nightclub with nude women dancing and doing many lewd things such as lap dances with patrons. I embellished considerably over what Mark had talked about, adding in my own desires. I talked about the impression it would make per Mark’s comments, and then I explained the need for secrecy in and around our family so we could have some sort of surprise eventually. He understood on several counts.
As we sat eating, Steve worked frantically on his iPad seeing what was around that might fill the bill. There was nothing out there. He did recommend I get an attorney familiar with the prostitution and pornography laws of our state and the surrounding states and cities. I had a blank look, and so he made a couple of phone calls and set up an appointment for me that afternoon with the right man about three blocks away. While he did that, I verified with Jerry Roberts, Worthington Industries chief counsel, that seeing him was a good idea. We had an appointment and Steve went off to see what he could find that might not be on the market right then.
I met with Eric Keane, the attorney, at three o’clock that afternoon for an hour. He explained about how the states regulated clubs like what I proposed, believing them to be the seeds of moral decay and the total destruction of civilization as we know it. I loved his sarcasm. He stated flatly that he thought that politicians everywhere were a bunch of psalm-singing SOBs, liars, cheats, and bought scoundrels who would throw their mother under a bus to make a fast buck. I sympathized with him as I learned the stupid restrictions that had been placed on things, despite the fact that many of them frequented such places. The influence of the Christian right was uncomfortably strong, and he felt violated the U.S. Constitution for the separation of church and state.
Keane, Esquire, was smart and affable. I ultimately hired him to help set up the club, assuming we could find a property.
Steve called me at the beginning of the following week. “Elsa, I would like to take you to look at three properties — the only three that come close to meeting your requirements. None are for sale, but I think we could make a bid and see what happens on them.”
That afternoon we drove across the river to the adjacent state because they had more liberal laws about what establishments güvenilir bahis siteleri such as this could do. For instance, total nudity was not prohibited, at least in a private club.
The first place I felt was too small. It had been a run down bar that had a stage added for girls to perform on. The women in the place made me shudder and fear I’d pick up some vile disease just by being in the place. The rolls of blubber were not at all appealing.
The second place was a little further away. The neighborhood was better, and the club had really been designed as a club. It was all on one floor, but spread out. The people that greeted us were nice and cordial. We had a beer and looked around.
The third place was the winner. It had originally been designed as a two-story Texas Roadhouse restaurant, but that had folded years earlier and the place had atrophied away to what it was today — a rundown bar and low budget strip club.
There was one attractive woman doing a slow bump and grind on stage, often swinging around a chrome pole. She had a great body and more clothes on than I did when I wore my sedate bikini. Only about a dozen men were in the place watching her with bored looks on their faces as they washed their sorrows away with beer. The recorded music was as garish as the décor, and using the word décor gave the place more stature than it deserved. It was dirty, dusty, dingy, and in need of a lot of sprucing up. Anything done to the outside would be an improvement. The inside needed a rebuild from the studs out.
Fortunately, I have an imagination; that’s why I went into architecture. I could envisage the place fixed up and modernized. Mark hadn’t said it, but this was a toy for him. He wanted some racy entertainment as well as something he could dazzle a few friends with. It didn’t need to make money, but it needed to look good.
I asked Steve, “Is it for sale?”
“No, but I’m sure a reasonable offer would be accepted. The place is purportedly underwater on several counts. The guy that owns it, along with a local bank, doesn’t care about the place. The bartender kind of runs it, but he’s also run it into the ground, probably by skimming some of the cash flow into his pocket.”
I nodded. Let me make a call to my Mr. Fixer Upper. I called Doug Reed, the older gent who had been our construction manager on building The Meadows house and outbuildings. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi Elsa, what’s up? Problems?”
“Hi Doug. No problems. The house is great and well loved. I have a new project. Not as ambitious – maybe. Commercial. Turning a rundown establishment into a hot and modern nightspot. You interested?”
“You bet I am. I’m idling along in first gear on a couple of spec houses, and I can do this in my sleep. Where’s the property?”
“Hyattsville. I’m there now.”
“I’m only fifteen minutes from there. Could I see it?”
Fifteen minutes later Steve again walked us through the place. I don’t know what the bartender thought, but we were obviously sizing the place up for renovations. The sexy gal that had been dancing was giving one of the few patrons a lap dance in time to the music. They were laughing as she ground her cloaked ass down on his construction jeans. The man’s yellow hard hat sat on the table next to his beer.
Doug watched her for a moment and said, “Will that be going on while I’m working here? It’ll slow the job down considerably.” He laughed at his witticism.
“Could be arranged,” I teased.
Steve said, “I’ll approach the owner and see if we can entice him to sell.”
Two weeks later I went to Mark. We hadn’t said a word to each other since he’d given me the project.
I asked Mark, “Do you have your checkbook handy?”
“Sure. How much do you need?”
“Two checks actually. One for four-hundred-fifteen-thousand; the other for a quarter of a million. First one is payable to Tri-State Realty — that buys your club and land; the second to Elsa Conners, Building Fund — that fixes the place up as a modern and hot nightclub.”
Mark looked surprised, “So, I’m out seven-hundred thousand? When do I get to see this place?”
“Hey, you’re the one that wanted a nice nightclub. You get to see it in three or four months if you’re a good boy and fuck my lights out every night between now and then, and forever after.”
As Mark wrote the two checks from one of his Delaware corporate accounts I gave him the rundown on the place and showed him some pictures I’d taken with my iPhone: why the location, why this place as opposed to any other, the deal, what it would be like, and what little I knew about the renovations and schedule. I didn’t mention that Doug Reed would be doing the reno work.
Mark smiled at me and said, “I sure would like to see it finished before Christmas.”
I smiled. Doug and I had speculated about that very schedule as we made the deal. He told me he liked the pressure of a near-in date. “It focuses the mind,” he’d said.
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