Ladies Night (10 page)

“If you don't remember anything else,” Babyface said, “remember this: Make them pay you before you start taking shit off.” He turned to the woman next to him. “Ain't that right?”

She licked her lips and stared Babyface dead in the eyes as she tucked a hundred dollar bill in the waistband of his pants. Babyface turned and nodded to Amp, proving his point.

Babyface continued. “You got about ten minutes up there, so work the crowd. Pay special attention to the big girls. They pay the best.” The bartender placed a glass in front of Babyface, who grabbed it and held it up to Amp. “You need a shot before you go up?”

Amp shook his head. “I don't drink. Thanks.”

Shrugging, Babyface threw the shot of Hennessy straight down his throat. The woman sitting with him removed the cherry stem from her mouth. It was neatly tied in a knot. This further enticed Babyface, who cleared his throat and shook it off.

He looked to Amp. “Give 'em hell. I have to go do some work of my own.” He stood and then led the sexy lady away to an enclosed VIP booth.

Amp exhaled to try to release some tension, and then headed to Madam's office. Madam was sitting at her desk going through some paperwork. She looked a little overwhelmed and confused—the same emotions Amp was entertaining himself.

“Excuse me, Madam,” Amp said, her eyes still glued to the papers before her. “I, uh, was told that you were the person to see about getting an outfit, so I can do amateur night tonight.”

Madam looked up from her paperwork with a smile. She couldn't contain her excitement. It was as if she'd been waiting a lifetime to hear those very words coming from Amp's mouth. “I am,” she confirmed, pushing aside the papers and standing up. Walking over to a metal cabinet, she pulled out a medium-sized box.

“Something in here should work just fine for you,” she said as she set the box on her desk and started pulling out different thongs, G-strings, and various props.

Amp remained quiet as she laid the thong with an elephant trunk on the desk, but his facial expression told it all. He wasn't going to be caught dead, alive, or half naked in that thing. Following that, Madam set out a sailor hat and matching thong, a Tarzan loincloth, and several other equally wild outfits.

Amp took an apprehensive step closer to the collection spread out before him. Noticing the uncertain look on Amp's face, Madam said, “It's gonna be all right. G'on and shake what your momma gave you.”

With an outfit in hand, Amp left for the dressing room. He may have exited Madam's office looking unsure, but he turned back to catch Madam wearing the look of a proud mother.

Madam went back to her paperwork, but not even ten seconds later there was a light tap at her door. “Now what, Amp?” Madam said without even looking up from her desk as the door cracked open. Poor thing hadn't made it halfway to the locker room before his nerves got the best of him.

“I see you're still working hard.”

That voice coming from her doorway gave Madam pause. Her eyes froze on the paper in front of her, and the pen fell out of her still fingers onto the desk. It sounded like . . . but was it? Sure it was. She'd know that voice anywhere, and it wasn't Amp's.

“Marcus,” Madam's mouth spoke before her eyes looked up. She slowly raised her head to confirm the man's identity. Standing in the doorway was the same six foot one inch, nicely built man that had once captured her heart. He still looked the same, only now his head was bald. Where he once had just a beard, he now sported a salt-and-pepper goatee that was very attractive on him. “You look different. But still good.” The words just fell out of Madam's mouth. She'd always been one to say whatever was on her mind anyway, so that was no surprise. “The hair, or should I say lack thereof—it works for you.” She nodded her approval of the change in appearance.

Marcus ran his hand down his bald head and smiled. “I appreciate that. Coming from you, it must be true,” he said. “Well, you, Miss Fox, look exactly the same.” He tilted his head to the side and observed Madam.

“I hope I can take that as a compliment,” Madam said.

“Of course. You look amazing.” He stared at her with an appreciative smile on his face.

For Madam, it was as if he were looking right through her. She shifted in her chair a little bit. He wasn't making her feel uncomfortable; she was starting to feel like a high school girl alone in the hallway with her crush.

“Long time no see.” She picked up the conversation in order to escape the awkward silence.

“Too long.” His words were short, but his gaze into her eyes was long. He was looking for something, perhaps that spark that she once had for him.

Madam shifted in her chair again, almost as if she was trying to shift out of his viewpoint. His stare was penetrating. Her heart started beating a little faster with each breath. He was just as fine and sexy as she remembered. Not to mention that voice, that same deep baritone voice in which his words lingered like they had a natural echo.

Madam cleared her throat. He won the staring game, because in all her blushing, her eyes looked downward. This was the only man who could make Madam feel this way. There was nothing she could do to contain the butterflies in her stomach.

Marcus took a couple steps toward Madam's desk. “May I?” He extended his hand toward the chair.

“Oh, of course.”

Staring at her the entire time, Marcus sat down. He followed her eyes down to the paperwork on her desk. After all, that's where hers kept darting off to. “If you're too busy . . .”

“Oh, no. I'm fine,” Madam was quick to answer. She looked up and smiled. A part of her did not want that man to move a muscle.

“I agree. You are definitely fine.”

Even his corny compliments had Madam's panties damp. Unlike some of the patrons who came to watch the men dance, Madam didn't have an extra pair of panties in her purse, so he needed to stop with all the Billy Dee Williams stuff. Truthfully, though, he didn't need to impersonate any man. This was just how Marcus was, how he'd always been: super fine, super slick, with a smooth, debonair aura about him.

“Thank you.” Madam clasped her hands together. “So what brings you by Club Eden?”

“You.” Straight to the point.

“What about me?”

“The last time we were, you know, connected, you were quite the busy bee managing that club. Didn't really have enough time for ‘us,' to see where we could have taken things.” He looked around. “But now I see you own your own club . . . which probably means you're just that much busier. That is, unless you've learned that life isn't always about work. You should work hard so you can play hard too.” He leaned in. “So are you?”

Madam swallowed. “Am I what?”

“Ready to play . . . hard?”

Madam was caught up in watching his mouth as he pronounced the words. That mouth used to kiss her just right and in all the right places. She could have lived off those kisses forever, but she was a woman in a man's world trying to keep up and make things happen. Kisses and a relationship just weren't a priority in her life at the time. Marcus had always wanted them to be a priority, and she just couldn't give him that—not then, and certainly not now. Although she was good with what they had, Marcus wasn't a playboy with a different woman every day of the week. He wanted one woman and one woman only, and wanted to build something lasting. That woman had been Madam. When she couldn't give him the same in return, she wasn't even mad at him for calling it quits.

“Marcus, can I be honest with you?” Madam said.

He laughed. “Since when does Mary Fox ask permission to be honest?”

She smiled and looked downward.

“Shoot. What is it?” He encouraged her to proceed.

Madam looked back up at him. “When we were together, you were a good man. I can't say anything bad about you. And I'm sure you're an even better man, but nothing's changed with me, Marcus. Like you said . . . .” Madam raised her hands, gesturing to the office surroundings. “I'm not just managing a club, but I own one now. Which means—”

“That all work and no play still makes for a very dull girl. I get it.” Marcus nodded with a sigh and then stood. “You know me, straight to the point. Never was one to play games or waste time. And so that I don't waste any more of yours or mine, I guess I'll be going. But hey, you can't blame a brotha for trying, can you?” He chuckled. “Guess when I'm in the neighborhood another three years from now, I'll check back in with you.” He winked, trying to keep his head up after being shot down by the woman he'd once wanted to marry.

“I'm sorry, Marcus.” Three years later it still hurt just as much to watch Marcus walk away.

“No need to apologize. Just figured a few years had gone by, I'd stop by and try my luck.” He shrugged. “It was good seeing you again.” He held out the palm of his hand.

Madam placed her hand inside of his. He lifted it to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, staring directly into her eyes.

As he walked to the door, he stopped and made one last attempt to change her mind. “What about we just have lunch to see if, you know, we can at least try to pick up where things . . .” His words trailed off as Madam began shaking her head in the negative.

Although a part of Madam wanted to skip a lunch with him completely and go right back to his place and hit the sheets for old times' sake, she wasn't about to play with his mind like that. He deserved more, and right now, with all she had to deal with when it came to the club, she just couldn't give him more.

“A gentleman knows how to bow out gracefully.” With that, Marcus left, closing the door behind him.

Madam went limp in her chair, exhaling so hard she almost blew the papers off her desk. “Lord have mercy.” She began to fan herself as the lingering scent of Marcus's cologne brought back a wave of erotic memories.

Madam closed her eyes and went back to that time and place where not just his cologne, but everything about Marcus had intoxicated her. Madam hadn't always been all work. She knew how to play . . . at work. As a matter of fact, she could recall doing a little playing in her office at the old club when he'd dropped in on her one day....

 

 

Madam twitched in her chair at the thought of it now, sitting at her desk with a mound of paperwork before her. She didn't even smoke, but she felt like she needed a cigarette.

She looked up at the door through which Marcus had just exited. Maybe he was right, Madam thought. She'd been working hard all her life. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to play a little. After all, she hadn't played in quite a long time.

Looking down again at the mound of work before her, Madam sighed and asked herself, “Who am I kidding?” With the way things were looking, it definitely was not playtime.