Under New Management

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Bret cried as his entire world got turned into nothing but lust and arousal... and a losing battle to hold the biggest orgasm of his life back.

"Oh shit! Oh, it's good! It's... Ahhh!" he grunted, and Lia felt how his cock jerked. Suddenly her mouth was filled with a warm, salty liquid, and she knew she'd once again earned her keep.

She looked up at him, and for some reason he noticed how big and beautiful her blue eyes were. Strange how he hadn't noticed that before... and then he saw her throat-muscles working. She was swallowing his load! Oh, shit, so hot!

"Wow..." he gasped, as she slowly extracted her head off his lap, leaving his cock wet and spent, and oh, so happy.

"Worth the money?" she asked with a naughty little wink as she slowly got up from her kneeling position.

"Every penny!" he happily agreed, "you're quite... something!"

"Thanks. Remember that the next time you're here, won't you cutie? I like you," she smiled at him, warmly. She meant it, and not just because she'd just earned a hundred dollars for two minutes work -- there was something cute and honest about him. Something that didn't quite belonged in a strip-club.

"Oh, I will!" he declared, and together they went out of the VIP-room, her still in her sexy walk but him in a far more relaxed gait. Like being with a woman for the first time ever had instilled him with a new kind of confidence... or perhaps just because he wasn't on edge anymore, with his lust being slated for the time being. Either way, both Lia and Markus noticed the not-so-subtle change in him, as he threw himself down on the small couch next to his lawyer. Lia gave him a last smile and walked away, looking for more business.

"Oh, Wendy!" Bret called for the waitress who stood at the bar, and she hurried to him, while Markus stared at the far-more-confident post-blow-job Bret. His demure attitude seemed to have vanished, at least for now, and Markus had to admit he preferred this young man by far!

"A glass of Long Island iced tea, please," he ordered, before turning to Markus: "I really can't stand the taste of scotch you know!"

"Certainly, sir!" Wendy all but laughed and hurried away.

"So, son," Markus said, fighting to hide his smile, "liked the private dance, didya?"

Bret didn't even answer; he just smiled a dream-like smile at him, making Markus laugh out loud.

"Good for you, son! Good for you!" They shared a laugh before returning their attention to the stage where a tall, slim black woman was dancing, shaking the biggest tits Bret had ever seen -- they beat Lia's hands down, at least in sheer size. She was wearing a white shirt that was teasingly slowly coming off, much to the enjoyment of the crowd.

Soon after, Wendy returned with his order. As Bret paid, he handed her an extra twenty dollar-note.

"Thanks for the tip," he winked. She took it and winked back at him.

"Anytime, sir."

Sitting with his sweet drink, watching a hot woman taking her clothes off and remembering the unbelievable sensations, Lia had introduced him to, one thought entered his mind: A man could get used to this... He'd never before thought of himself as a man. Maybe he was growing up?

---

Two hours later Markus supported Bret as they both stumbled out of the club and into the waiting cab. Bret's wallet was completely empty, and he was drunk out of his skull, having had far too many glasses of alcoholic 'Iced Tea' and gotten several dances from the sexy dancers... regular dances that is, no more special ones for the night.

"So, Bret," Markus said as they were on their way to his apartment, "have you decided what to do with the club?"

"I'ma keep it!" Bret declared, voice slurred, though he knew that his dad would go ballistic. Old man Frank had never approved of his brother having a strip-club, and he wouldn't be pleased at all with his youngest son taking it over instead of continuing in the prestigious insurance-company where he worked now. In fact, he'd be downright pissed!

"Hah! I knew it!" Markus said, "Tom woulda been pleased!"

Bret nodded happily, and fell asleep up against the car-window.

---

The next day, Saturday, Bret spent in his bed with a bucket next to him. Not a pleasant day, not at all, and the only constructive thing he got done all day was arranging with Markus to visit the Happy Gent two days later.

---

"Sorry, sirs, but the club doesn't open for another two hours," the large bouncer said in his low, slow voice, when the two of them arrived at the entrance once again.

"Well, my name is Harold Markus, attorney, and I and my associate Bret Jensen here have an appointment with..." Markus had to open his little notebook here and read the name of the woman who'd taken over the management-tasks since Tom's death, "Tina Black."

The large bouncer who appeared as broad as he was tall looked down at the two suit-wearing men. Lots of suits came to the club, though usually only after opening. Better check though... He picked up his phone, talked for a few minutes, and then hung up.

"Please come inside," he said respectfully and opened the door for them, "Tina's on her way. Apologies, but sometimes people want to go in and watch the girls prepare for the night."

"No worries," Bret said and they went inside and saw a short, plump redheaded woman head towards them. She smiled pleasantly at them and shook their hands before leading them into her office.

"So," she said as she sat down behind her desk," I assume this is about the new ownership of the Happy Gent?"

"Yes. Bret here is Tom's sole heir for his estate and the club," Markus said and opened his briefcase, handing over a copy of the will as well as a copy of the new deed on the club, with Bret's name.

Tina scanned the documents but had no reason for doubt. She knew Markus and knew he'd been Tom's attorney. She put the papers aside with a small, accepting nod and looked at Bret, her new boss.

"So, Mr. Jensen, if I may be so bold as to ask... what are your intentions?"

"Please call me Bret," he began, "and I intend to carry on my uncle's work. It... seems like the right thing to do," he shrugged, "considering he left it for me."

Tina nodded, somewhat relieved. She'd been worried the new owner would sell -- one could never know if she'd still have a job should that happen. She really liked her job and wouldn't want to lose it...

They began discussing business-details, and once Markus was sure that they got along well enough, he took his leave, letting the new owner alone with his property and employees.

"So, Bret," Tina said once the lawyer was gone, "let's be honest with each other. You said it was the right thing to do... keeping the place. Where did the fact that you'd take over management of 26 sexy, vulnerable strippers, at least half of them desperate to keep the job enter into the equation?" She looked hard at Bret who became a bit uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"I... dunno. It wasn't a disadvantage, I'll admit but it wasn't the sole reason either..." he said, and Tina nodded slowly and a small smile entered her lips.

"Why? I mean, why do you wanna know?" he demanded.

"Just wanted to make sure we understood each other. And I can help. I know who are desperate, who are slutty and who are likely to turn you down," she said with a conspiring wink.

"Eh... okay..." he said. What's she up to? he wondered. He couldn't quite see her angle.

"So... I imagine you'd want to, eh... conduct interviews with your staff? The girls, I mean..." She continued, and he shrugged.

"Well, if you were, I'd be remiss, if I --as manager -- didn't give you all the details about each and every girl..." she said, having figured out the easiest way to keep her job -- perhaps even with a pay-raise?

"Ah..." Bret smiled, understanding dawning on the young owner.

"That is, of course, if you want me to stay your manager..." she hinted, and Bret nodded.

"Deal," he agreed. This should be fun... he thought.

---

All the employees present quickly got gathered in the club's bar. The twelve girls (and the few guys) that were at work were all curious, of course, and many of them also rather nervous. They all knew that the entire club's fate was unsure after Tom's death, and for too many of them this club was their 'last chance' to continue life as they knew it.

"D'you know what's going on?" Lia asked her friend Monique but she shook her head, looking as nervous as Lia felt. They both needed this job very much; Lia to feed her two kids, Monique to feed her kids and her laid-off husband.

"They've probably found a new owner," Monique whispered back, "I just hope they'll keep the club running -- and us all on board."

"I hear ya! Do you remember what happened to Lucky Charms?" Lia said, reminding her friend of a strip-club that had shut down only three months ago.

"Yeah. All the girls were let go from one day to the next. Pria, one of my friends there, said that more than half the girls started working the street, at least for a while to keep from becoming homeless!"

Everyone in the club had heard that story over and over, of course, but in the light of Tom's death it had resurfaced and everyone talked about it once again -- how more and more of the strippers turned to prostitution in order to survive.

"Yeah. I just hope -- wait, there comes Tina!" Lia replied, as she saw the manager come out... with a young man who looked familiar somehow. Where had she seen him before...?

"Shit! I know that guy!" she whispered urgently to her friend, "he was here with that old lawyer guy a couple of nights ago! Fuck, I gave him a special dance!" she gasped, using the in-house codeword for 'things that shouldn't happen in the club'.

"You think he's the new owner? Or a cop or something?" Monique asked, panic starting to rise in her chest. Would they shut down the place? Or keep it under surveillance to ensure that prostitution didn't take place within its walls? Either way, it wasn't good...

"He looks too young, doesn't he?" Lia said, feeling a cold dread spread through her body. She couldn't lose this job, she just couldn't!

"Hello, everybody!" Tina called loudly, and the crowd fell silent. "Allow me to introduce Tom Jensen's heir and the new owner of the Happy Gent: Mr. Bret Jensen!" she said and held her hand out to Bret that stood next to her, staring at his audience. His employees. His responsibility. His girls.

Immediately a murmur of whispering voices rose from the crowd, and most of the nervous women stared openly at their new boss. Tina gave them a moment to digest this info, before she continued: "Mr. Jensen has an MBA from Stanford, and he and I will have a close look at the club's economic development to see how we can make it even more profitable. I expect you all to cooperate with whatever changes he sees necessary."

An even louder murmur of discussing voices started as soon as she'd finished speaking. None of the girls liked the thought of too many changes, not at all.

"Mr. Jensen! Mr. Jensen!" a girl exclaimed loudly, raised her hand and took a step forward, separating herself from the crowd. She looked to be little more than 18, with long, glossy red hair, and a very slim, petite body.

"Eh... yes...?" Bret answered, having no idea what her name was.

"Eh... I'm Red. Or, well, my name's Lillian... Lillian Miller, but everyone calls me Red. That's also my stage-name... 'cause of my hair, see?" she yapped, the poster-girl for bimbos everywhere.

"Yeah, sure... Red. You had a question?" Bret said. He felt far more at ease than he had expected but then again, these weren't women he planned to date. These were his employees, and he'd had sexually attractive women under him before at the firm. Granted, they usually wore more clothes than Red's tight boob-tube and mini-skirt, but all the same...

"Well, I was wondering... do you think you're gonna, like, fire anyone? I mean, we all really like working here, I do at least, and I think most of the other girls agree with me, even if some of the guys can be a bit annoying, and of course it can be a little hard to stay up this late -- and talk about embarrassing the other night when one of my classmates was in here! God, I was about to die!" she said, without a single pause. Bret caught himself wondering if she even needed to breathe.

"Eh... I might. I can't say any more now than I hope I won't have to," he said -- which of course started the girls whispering among themselves.

"What about bouncers!" the large guy that had let in him and Markus asked from behind, "you'll still need bouncers, right?"

Bret thought for a moment before shrugging, "I can't imagine I wouldn't," he said honestly. The bouncer in question smiled widely and punched his fellow-bouncer on the shoulder. They, at least, were secure in their jobs. Some of the girls looked on in envy.

"Mr. Jensen will take over Tom's old office, and as I said, he and I will work hard to figure out the best way to ensure the club keeps turning a profit," Tina continued, "Mr. Jensen might have to talk over some things with some of you..."

Again the girls started talking among themselves until Monique loudly asked: "You mean he's gonna pull some of us aside and give us a nice little speech before he kicks them out?"

Bret looked at the speaker: a tall, attractive woman -- a little older than the average girl in the crowd but with a great body. She was a Latina with dark skin and raven-black hair, a very nice rack and a well-rounded ass. Bret harassed a guess that she was around thirty-five.

"No, I don't...?" he began looking at her, until she caught his drift.

"I'm Monique," she said and looked expectantly at him.

"No, I don't mean that. I just mean that some of you might fit better in my overall goals," he explained, "but that doesn't necessarily mean I'll fire the others."

Monique burned after asking more about these 'goals' (and what he meant by necessarily!) but a little voice inside her head told her to keep quiet, keep her head down, please the boss and keep her job. For once, she listened to that voice...

The other girls were gossiping again about what he meant. It sounded quite ominous -- very ominous as a matter of fact. Most, if not all, of the girls perceived his words to mean that some would get fired...

"Now, please, return to your business and prepare for the opening," Tina said, "Mr. Jensen and I'll retire to my office for a while," she said and looked at her watch, "just everyone be ready if he wishes to speak with you, okay?"

There was a low mutter of agreement, and the crowd separated, everyone finding someone to discuss this new, strange turn of event with.

"Shit! I can't believe I sucked him off!" Lia said to Monique as they walked backstage, "you think I'm a goner?"

"Nah. He'll probably give you a raise!" she laughed, trying to lighten her friend's mood. Truth be told, Monique had no clue -- if he wanted a clean club, he'd have to get rid of Lia, right? But to be honest, she was more worried about herself. Mouthing off at the boss like that had probably not been a good idea -- would she fit in with his 'overall goals' after giving him lip? Damn her temper!

"This isn't funny! Fuck, I'll kill Wendy! She's the one that told him to ask for it. Shoulda known better!" Lia kept at it.

"Don't worry, Lia. I'm sure he won't fire you just for that. You're a damn good dancer, and the crowd loves you! If he really is gonna stop the extras, he'll give you a warning -- that's the worst that could happen!" the Latina said earnestly, hoping the same were true for her herself.

"You think so?" the blonde looked at her friend with an extremely needy look in her face, so, so different from the predatory look Bret still remembered from his time in the VIP-room.

"Of course I do," Monique said and hugged her friend.

Inside the office, Tina sat down at the desk.

"So, that went fairly well," she started, "you have a lot of scared, nervous girls out there, each hoping to keep her job and willing to do what it takes to keep it." Bret nodded, the thought of what he was about to do made him both nervous and horny, so he stayed a little quiet.

"So... which one didja like?" she asked, breaking the ice with her blunt question.

"Eh... all of them?" Bret answered with a shy smile.

"I hear ya!" Tina laughed, "they're some hot little minxes, aren't they? Okay, what do you want first, desperate, slutty or dumb?"

"Eh..."

"Okay, look. There are twelve girls out there. Almost all of them will do ya one way or the other, if you play it right -- especially after our little talk. So pick one you liked, eh?" Tina asked, trying her best to help her boss along the way to sexual fulfillment.

"What about that... Monique-chick?" Bret asked. She'd seemed a bit annoying, and the boss in him would love to take her down a peg.

"Monique? Yeah, she definitely fits the bill! She has two kids and an unemployed husband, so she really needs the cash to keep flowing in..." Tina smiled, not at all troubled by her role as her boss's pimp. After having watched men fawn over these beautiful women night after night, without anyone paying attention to her, she didn't mind them getting the sharp end of the stick for once.

"Let's see how she fits into our overall business-plan then," Bret winked at his manager and went to his office.

"Enter!" Bret called at the knock on his door. It opened and Monique stepped in, looking very demure and uncertain. When Tina had come and sent her here, she'd known what would happen... what the hell had she been thinking mouthing off to the boss? And when he was talking about firing people?!

"Monique," Bret said, forcing himself not to stare at the alluringly large tits under the tight, red button-down blouse, and nodded as a way of greeting, "please sit." He was sitting on the large, absurdly comfortable, black leather-couch, and he patted the spot next to him. Swallowing nervously, she complied and sat down next to him.

"Now," Bret said, effectively slipping into the role he'd adapted so well at his job, "you know the economy is tough right now, and I may have to make some unpleasant decisions..."

"Yeah, sure. Sure, Mr. Jensen," she said in a resigned voice. That was the start of a firing-speech if she'd ever heard one.

"How old are you, Monique?" he asked and held up the notepad, ready to write down her answers. He didn't care overly much about her answers but he'd noticed at job-interviews how much more nervous the interviewee became when her answers were being recorded. And if it worked for Yale-, Harvard- and Stanford-graduates, he figured it would work even better on an already shaken-up stripper...

Monique looked at him curious -- why the hell would he want to know that? -- and answered "35." She didn't dare subtract a few years, like she always did when asked her age. What if he knew? What if he was testing her somehow? But why would he care about her age if he was planning to fire her? A ray of hope entered her mind; maybe he'd just give her a stern warning.

"Mhm-hm," he noted her age, briefly wondering if that wasn't an unusually high age for a stripper but then again, she did have the looks for it.

"And I understand you're married?"

"I... Yes, but is that really something you should be asking-?" she began but halted when she noticed him staring at her. She swallowed again, as he wrote her answer down.

"Now, doesn't he have a problem with what you're doing here?" Bret wondered.

"No!" she was quick to clarify, "he doesn't. Or," she added in an undertone, "if he did he should find some other way to feed Jen and Clara."

Bret nodded and made a remark on his pad.

"You really didn't like what Tina and I had to say, did you?"