Chapter Sixteen
Joseph
“I’ve met someone, mother,” I said, ignoring her scowl as I lifted the mug to her lips.
She took a sip of the warm coffee and closed her eyes, savouring the aftertaste of the whiskey I’d slipped in while making it. Considering I’d been the man of the family for years, I still felt like a failure every time I visited the woman who had birthed me.
“Who is she?” Her face contorted. “Some rich bitch?”
Smiling, I bent down to her and took her hands. She wrenched one away and tried to grab the steering stick on her wheelchair. I stilled her movement by softly cupping my hand over hers. “Mother, please, don’t be jealous. ”
Her scoff was predictable as she glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at me. I followed her gaze, studying the creams and yellows of the drawing room. She had designed her grand house exactly as she wanted, with my help, of course. Ever since my father had paralysed my mother with his fists, I’d sworn to get the best for her. If I couldn’t protect her from her injuries, I would make her as comfortable as possible.
“You know how I despise these women,” she said, lifting her working hand to her hair and fluffing it.
My mother had the best care that money could provide. A live-in carer, a chef and even a PA. After the initial attack, I had fulfilled those roles as soon as she'd come home from the hospital, but a ten-year-old boy should never have had to wash his own mother.
“You act like I’ve been with ten million women.” Standing, I went over to the window and looked out. “She’s different.”
The grass glistened from the dew that had collected overnight. When I’d dropped Lola back to her place, I’d almost been tempted to drive right past and take her to mine. I wasn’t quite ready for her to see where I lived or to break the spell of me being a fairly normal boss. Once she saw how much wealth I’d accumulated, would she change her mind about me? She'd assumed that I was a pauper designer, just getting by on one job a month. Even when I’d tried to show her my world, she’d assumed that I'd taken out a loan.
Stifling a laugh, I sipped from my own mug of tea and turned back to my mother. The sun shone on her beautiful face, highlighting the height of her cheekbones and the rosebud of her lips. For years, she’d stayed away from men, too afraid to let them in, despite her beauty. Unfortunately, for us both, she’d been taken in by my father, a charmer with no money and no morals.
“I dreamt about him last night,” she said, scratching her elbow.
When she struggled to reach around to the back of the immobile limb, I went over and helped her, just like I had as a boy. The itch would’ve been imaginary, but the first time the doctor had told her that, she dismissed him with a few choice swearwords. Even now, after thirty years, she insisted that she could feel tingling down her right side, even though she’d had numerous tests to check whether it was phantom or not.
Sighing, I sat on the chaise longue next to her. “How did you kill him this time?”
The first time she’d told me that she’d dreamt of killing my father, my heart had skipped. Had she known that I’d also plotted his demise? It was such a recurring dream for her now, I’d become amused by her various techniques. It was part of the reason that I knew Lola was like me. Her confession of fantasizing about killing her foster father had hit close to home. And turned me on.
“I forgave him.”
My hand froze in mid-air where it had been reaching for a banana. The fruit, which sat in an expensive china bowl, remained untouched as I turned to my mother.
“Dreams do funny things to us,” I said, standing as my appetite disappeared.
The clearing of her throat made me stare at her. She shrugged her good shoulder and dropped her gaze, clearly wanting to avoid my scrutiny.
“You've forgiven him?” My voice was tight as my phone beeped.
Usually, I would distract myself with work as I spoke to my mother, but her confession had made my mind whirl. We'd been united in our hatred for my father my whole life, I couldn't have her go soft on me now.
“You haven't been to visit in weeks,” she said, waving her hand as a distraction. “Has your new girl been the reason? Even when you have high profile jobs, you make time for me. ”
“Don't change the subject,” I snapped, “Have you forgiven the man who beat you to a pulp?”
Her jaw clenched and she scowled, her forehead creasing. “Don't you raise your voice to me, young man! I'm still your mother, despite the way you like to control everything.”
Taking a deep breath, I paced the rug in front of the white and gold fireplace. My insides itched as if a demon were trying to escape in an attempt to get to the woman who should've always supported me, just like I had her. She knew how hard I'd fought to stay afloat, to keep control of my temper when I'd been pushed. My teenage self had been a bastard, constantly getting into fights. That's why I'd distracted myself with drawing.
“That's it,” she said softly, “control the beasts inside. I know it's hard, my love–”
“Do you?” I interrupted, glaring at her as I came to a stop. “Do you really know what it's like to see the consequence of that day every time I see you? Even after all these years, he's in my mind, bating me.”
Folding one hand over the other, my mother lifted her head and stared me in the eyes. “Don't you dare see my weakness as his strength, that's degrading to me. I'm stronger than you realise, despite the fact that you mother me. What's got into you? You've been an expert at blocking out the trauma of that day. Has that girl got into your head?”
Rubbing a hand over my short hair, I went to the French doors and looked out again. Lola had indeed got into my head. She'd guessed that there was more to me than she knew, but I wasn’t sure I wanted her to ever see it. Those moments, alone in the woods, where I could just be me... Joe... were precious. But they were also dangerous. If she pushed past my defences, she would crack open the gates of hell and release the demons that controlled me.
“She's broken,” I whispered, remembering Lola's story about her foster father, “just like me.”
Pushing open the double doors, I stepped onto the patio and inhaled the fresh air. Shit, the idea of my mother forgiving my father had shaken me far more than I cared to admit. I was stoic for a reason. Surely I could control my emotions enough to not let my mother throw me over the edge?
My phone started to ring, breaking me out of my mood. I took it out of my blazer pocket and glanced down, hoping to see Lola's number. No, it was the club.
“Jake,” I answered, forcing myself to calm, “the meeting isn't for another hour– ”
“It's not that, Joe,” my security guard interrupted me, “Someone has broken into the club and... well, you need to come and see.”
*
My heartbeat had taken up residence in my head, pounding against my skull as my chauffeurpulled up outside the club. Jumping out, I smoothed my tie as it was taken by the wind. The silk pale blue material had been gifted to me by one of the other society members. I'd been waiting for the perfect person to use it on... and now I'd found her.
“What's going on?” I snapped as I entered the club through the side door.
Jake had been waiting and stood to attention, gesturing for me to follow him. I did as he asked, focusing on his back as he led me through the greenroom and into the hallway. The red carpet was pristine, clean and plush, soft under my leather loafers as we walked through the open doors and into the club. The ex-theatre's lights were dimmed, just as I'd requested, and chairs had been set up on the stage.
“What's the problem?” I asked, frowning as I checked that everything was exactly where it usually was on meeting days.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jake indicated that I keep going with a nod of his head. Irritation made the skin on my arms itch, but I kept quiet, allowing him to keep me mystified for longer. Apparently, he had to show me rather than tell, that's what he'd claimed when I'd ordered him to tell me what the fuck was going on.
Speeding up my step to match his, I almost dived into the bathroom when he pointed at the door. Ah, there was probably a leak. He had warned me that some of the pipes were getting old, and although I'd tried my best to design the room around them, I had been aware that I might have to replace them–
“Shit,” I snapped as the door swung closed behind me.
My palms broke out into sweat as I went closer to the sink, my eyes absorbing the mess in front of me. The mirror was smashed, lines spreading out from the bullet hole in the middle. closer, I studied the hole, gasping when I reached for the wood behind the frame and felt the actual bullet lodged into the wall.
“Who did this?” I asked, turning to my security guard come club assistant.
My teeth clenched as he pointed to the stalls. Painted in bright red across the doors was a name... Hers.
“Lola?” I whispered, the air escaping my lungs and leaving it impossible for me to breathe.
Her emblazoned name sent a chill tripping down my spine. Going to it, I swiped my hand through the wet paint. It smeared on my finger, only partially dry. I wasn't surprised, whoever had painted my assistant's name on the doors had made sure to use a thick layer of red glossy paint.
“I've got my man checking the CCTV now.” Clearing his throat, Jake shuffled on his feet.
I glared at him, waiting for him to express whatever it was that he clearly wanted to say. He took my silence as an invitation to talk. It was a good job, the seething ball of fire in the pit of my stomach would explode from my mouth if I spoke too soon.
“It must have happened in the night,” he went on, running a hand through his floppy hair.
Frowning, I took a step closer to him. “How is that possible?” I pushed through my teeth, “Your team should've been here to stop anyone from entering.”
Shrinking under my gaze, Jake stuttered his reply. “We had a bit of a late-night party in the entertaining room. A few people came and...”
His sentence trailed off as I stepped forward, grabbed his jacket and hauled him off his feet. “You did what?” I roared, pushing him against the wall with a crash.
He grunted and went still, not bothering to fight against my strong grip. My veins burned as I stared into his eyes, searching for something that might stop me from beating the shit out of him.
“I'm going to be a dad,” he whimpered, “I'm sorry, it was a celebration. We shouldn't have...”
Unclenching my fingers, I let him drop to the floor. His words were water, dousing the flames that flickered inside. He was going to be a father.
“How can I be angry at you now?” I said, turning back to the mirror. “Get me the report on the CCTV. Now.”
Scurrying out of the bathroom, he disappeared without a word. The silence echoed around me as I stared at the broken reflection of Lola's name. Who would have it in for my angel?
“Finley.” I spun on my heel and headed out of the bathroom.
“Joseph!”
My feet skidded as I almost collided withChase. The CEO of the Billionaires Society frowned at me. Chase had been my good friend since our university days. We'd even shared a dormitory, which had led us to discuss bizarre concepts, including what we thought about BDSM when he got a new kinky girlfriend .
“What's wrong?” The tall broad-shouldered man was the same height as me with dark red hair and a smattering of ginger whiskers.
He'd taken on the persona of Jamie Frasier from Outlander as soon as the television show had made the character famous. Even his dating profile had been centred on his likeness to the much-loved Scotsman.
Except, he was wearing a thousand-pound suit and had his hair slicked back off his forehead. He was worth billions, just like the rest of us.
“Just some vandalism in the bathroom, nothing too serious.” The words almost blocked my throat as I forced the lie out.
It was serious, fucking serious. No one threatened Lola and got away with it. Clearly Finley had an issue with being rejected. And I had an issue with him.
“How have you been, chap? You've been pretty quiet recently.” He turned to stand beside me as some of the men arrived, heading straight to the chairs in front of the stage.
They lounged on the gilded gold edged theatre seats, almost too big for them. I'd left some of the original seats, which had probably been designed by a tiny woman, for when there was a show. It meant we could all be at the front, enjoying what our latest patron had to offer.
“I've met someone,” I said cautiously.
The last thing I needed was the Spanish inquisition about Lola. We were barely into the relationship, I hadn't even introduced her to half my world, let alone the idea of a society full of men with vulnerability kinks.
Chase eyed me sideways, his eyebrows raised. “It's about fucking time, my friend.”
Holding up a hand, I stopped him before he could start questioning me. “It's early days,” I said, glancing over my shoulder as Jake came out of the bathroom, ushering the cleaner in as he approached. They would have to scrub the paint off the doors before any of the men went in. I wouldn't allow them to see her name, not yet.
“Well,” Chase said, squeezing my shoulder, “I wish you luck with your new angel.”
Chewing my top lip, I rolled my eyes. He had berated me for calling my special ones angels. But there was an innocence about the broken ones that drew us in, he knew that.
“How is Bianca?” I asked, eyeing the stage as a man brought out two black metal chairs and placed them, reversed on the stage.
Humming, Chase grinned. The same girl who'd introduced him to bondage in uni had become his wife, and even now, was getting ready behind the stage. She was a performer and he loved it when other men watched her. It was their thing.
“We've got a new friend.” He winked at me, his mischievous nature showing through. “You're about to meet her.”
Less than intrigued for once, I watched as the bartender brought over two trays of alcoholic drinks and left them on the table before joining the men. He was a good friend of mine and only ever pulled pints at our events. He might have started out working in bars, but now he owned one of the biggest tech companies in London. He had taken control of the bar as soon as he’d joined the society.
“Is there any news I should know about?” I asked, studying the drinks on the table and deciding that I fancied a beer for a change. I needed something to help me forget about the mess in the bathroom.
“We have a new applicant.” Smiling when one of the younger men noticed us, he nodded a greeting. “And since you kicked Finley out...”
The silence at the end of his sentence was a question that I hadn't wanted to answer. Except, Chase was the man who had invested cash into my club and my design business. He had come from money, using it to build an empire of clubs, bars and restaurants. He liked the party life, even now, in his early forties. I'd grown out of it for the most part, too interested in my career and finding the one who would make me whole.
“He assaulted a woman in my club.”
Scratching the stubble on his jaw, he frowned. “Our ethos is so entrenched in us older folk, maybe the younger ones need a lesson in how to treat a lady.”
Backing up, I shook my head. “I'm no teacher, you know that.”
His shrug was accompanied by a smirk. “Aye, but I am, am I not?”
Chuckling, he gestured for me to return to his side as the lights went down and the music started.
“Listen.” He put a hand on my arm. “The new patron has a thing for younger women too. I thought you might get on. We'll meet for lunch soon.”
Baulking at the idea of chatting to a stranger about my fantasies, I nodded an agreement and went to join the other men at the front of the stage, sitting behind so I could watch them all.
I was known as the observer of the group. Rarely did I engage in their antics or outings, instead preferring to keep myself to myself. Chase had even questioned whether I was happy to have my club used for their sexual practices. At first, I'd been unsure, not wanting to bring their world into mine. But the more I had immersed myself into our ideal, the more I appreciated the beauty of sex and its exploration. I wasn't a predator, lusting after all those who performed in my club. I was a businessman, watching the money roll in as investments were made to allow for the theatre's improvements. That wasn't to say that I didn’t draw inspiration from some of the men and women who frequented our after-hour evenings. There had been some mental note taking, I wasn't going to lie.
“I need to talk to you after this,” Chase said, lowering himself into the seat next to me.
Looking him in the eye, I went to reply, only to be halted by the music getting louder and two women walking onto the stage. Chase's wife and her young blonde friend were wearing matching dominatrix outfits. My mouth gaped open, just for a second, as they each threw a leg over a seat and sat facing us, the zips in their leather panties undone and revealing all as they straddled the chairs.
My cock grew hard as I stared at the leather that ran in straps, up and down their bodies. It had been a while since a performance had got me excited, but I had a thing for a woman in leather. I was hoping that Lola might be tempted to engage in a little dress up, when the time was right.
“Anything important?” I whispered as the women gyrated against the chairs, dancing to the loud beat of the seductive music.
It was rude of me to speak during the performance, but anything to distract myself from the big man's wife. I had rarely been turned on by the antics on stage and prided myself on control. However, the glint of the metal studs on their neck collars as the lights shone on them made me rock hard.
Chase glanced at me, a slight frown marring his forehead. “Some of the others worry that you're not as invested in the society as the rest of us. We'll talk when they're done.”
Swallowing, I turned back to the stage, not wanting to appear rude. I shouldn't have been worried about being turned on, Chase loved it when others appreciated his wife. I was more concerned about Lola and what she'd think knowing that my balls were bursting because of another woman.
The pair on the stage came close, one in front of the other. Chase's wife grabbed her friend's hair and yanked it back, revealing her neck. The woman shook violently when her gaze traced the men watching her. The wife whispered something before reaching around the front of her friend, her hand slipping down her belly and cupping her most intimate place. The flash of metal zip, fingers and vagina flesh ignited a fire in my testicles.
As Chase's wife pushed the woman to the floor and ducked her head between her trembling legs, the men fidgeted in their seats. I wasn't the only one who had a rather hard penis. They all wore the look of excitement and anticipation. They were ready to party and let loose.
The moans coming from the woman on the stage made me cross my legs in an attempt to trap my bulging cock. If I wasn't careful, I'd lose control, and that would never be forgivable. I had to set an example to those around me.
Distracting myself by studying the faces of the men, trying to determine which one was pure and which one was just in it for the fun, I ignored the shout of the woman who came to a climax on the stage. The clapping alerted me to the end of the small show and I stood, ready to turn to business.
Chase was beside me, holding my elbow and stopping me from moving. “Let's just address them here,” he said, waving for me to sit again.
Doing as I was told, I undid the button on my jacket and sat, waiting for the music to shut off and the women to leave the stage. The men slowly turned to Chase, knowing full well what was coming next.
“My friends,” the CEO of the society said in a slow drawl, “it's a pleasure to share my wife with you today.”
They all grinned and laughed, some of them winking. It was customary for us to start our quarter yearly meetings with a little titillation before we got down to business. Once that was done, the party would commence.
Chase raised his hands to silence the men. “Today marks the twenty fifth anniversary of the creation of the protector society. I know some of you know this story off by heart, but others of you, who may be newer and younger, might not understand the importance of our motto.”
The men watched Chase like they would a movie that captivated them. I knew this story inside out, I was a founding member. Yet, I relished the reminder of why we did what we did and who we were there to actually protect.
“As you know,” Chase went on, “myself and Joseph went to university together. We encountered numerous tales of women being disrespected or downright assaulted by men and each time, we were enraged. We found ourselves ready to defend and protect our fellow women - or men, we weren't biased. Sometimes, we'd go to parties, just to keep the peace. People thought we were strange, but there was something about helping a woman who had been through a terrible experience. It felt right to want to keep them safe.”
“Except from us,” one young man quipped, laughing and slapping his knee.
Chase surged forward and grabbed the scruff of the man's shirt, pulling him up into a stand. A muffled choke came from the man's throat as he went still, realising that he needed to heed Chase's threat and relax. As soon as he did, Chase released him, staring down into his face. “You're not here for the right reasons,” he spat, “maybe you should leave.”
“N-no, my father taught me, I just... I just...” The man's stuttered reply trailed off as Chase snarled.
“Just because your father was a member before he died, doesn't mean you automatically keep your place.” Chase raised his chin. “Or have you forgotten the reason you were accepted in the first place?”
Blinking, the young man shook his head and swallowed. Although his father had been a member for many years, the man had been through his own experience of saving a young woman who had been addicted to drugs. He had fallen for her hard and tried, for two years, to help her stop. She had overdosed after two months of being clean, just days before he'd planned to propose. Since then, he'd been drawn to others who had been destructive, unable to shake the need to protect and help those who couldn't save themselves. When his father had realised he had the same tendency as himself, he had introduced him to our world.
“Of course I remember Clarissa,” the man muttered.
“Then you might need to remind yourself that we're the only ones our women can rely on.” Chase stepped back and looked around at the other younger men. “If we're abusing the ones we're supposed to be protecting, then we are not doing our job, we're not fulfilling our role of protector. We are not being true to ourselves and our desires.”
Everyone nodded, including myself. I had hated to see the women in university crying when someone had treated them badly. I'd offered comfort, relishing the thrill it gave me when they cried on my shoulder. The power of holding something so fragile, knowing you could break them, but also knowing you never would... because if you did, you would lose the whole point of being.
As I grew older, it became apparent that a lot of women were only partially broken. They were afraid of the damaged parts of themselves, so they shied away from sex, from tenderness and above all, from love. Because vulnerability was scary as hell... and hell had demons. Demons who were best kept hidden.
“I know,” Chase said, turning in a circle, “that power over women can feel intoxicating. It can be all consuming. However, we have to remind ourselves that they are human and we're trying to build them up by tearing them down. Once at the point of being truly broken and facing themselves...” Chase smiled softly, “... they become ours to protect, always. Which means we can sit back and watch them adore us as they rebuild who they truly are... without the pain.”
“So in other words,” I piped up, “Don't be a dick.”
The men, especially the younger ones, laughed and agreed, their faces becoming pensive as they sat back and absorbed Chase's lesson. He was right, he was a good teacher. No wonder he'd managed to attract such a wide variety of men to join the society. They all looked to him for inspiration. He was a guru for the good guys who wanted to help the vulnerable, even if they didn't know it.
“I saw something in you all,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal when a couple of men groaned. “I know, I'm almost done with the speech. Just let me finish and then you can... finish. ”
His smirk was met with shakes of the head. Yeah, the club was about to turn dark in a while, allowing the men to satiate their desires. Some of them had brought their partners with them, and others had friends who accompanied them to satisfy their needs if they hadn't found their one. Either way, shit was about to get dirty and fun.
“You have agreed to be patrons to a charity who help all vulnerable people, and in return, we assist you to find yourself... to slay your own demons by slaying theirs.” Chase walked to the table of drinks and picked up a whisky, raising it into the air. “You've all got the business notes and the requested donation amounts. I propose a toast to our peculiar way of life and invite you to let loose, here, tonight, at Joseph's club.”
All the men raised their glasses and cheered, downing the liquid, no matter the amount, in one. I had forgotten to collect my beer, so I just watched, smiling to myself when the music started and the doors to the private hall opened. Two women, dressed in leather thongs and bralettes, stepped from behind the red curtain and gestured for us to join them.
“Just one last thing,” Chase went on before the men got up from their seats, “If we find out that anyone disrespects a woman or man against their will – we all know that some people like to be disrespected in the bedroom – you will be thrown out of the society. We might be a secret group, but we take our mission seriously.”
The men saluted Chase and made their way towards the private part of the club. Not one member of the public had been behind the doors that led to the secret hidden den. Only those of us in the society were allowed into the sex club.
“You wanted to talk?” I walked with Chase as the other men disappeared through the doors and dispersed into groups of two or three.
The slow rhythmic beat of the music vibrated through the room, enticing and exotic. The red and gold theme continued throughout the private booths with soft red material covering the seats and gold trimmed ropes holding the same coloured curtains, just in case someone wanted privacy. The tables were painted gold and sanded to look authentic. I could've paid someone else to build the tables, but I'd enjoyed making them myself. It had meant I could add embellishments that suited us. The long chains and handcuffs that hung from underneath the table surface were made from gold, just to stay in keeping with the theme.
“Some of the others fear that you've lost your enthusiasm for the society,” Chase said, nodding at two of the men as they settled around the circular stage in the middle of the room.
A woman dressed in a white lacy nightgown straddled a pole, swinging around it skilfully. A cage was raised above our heads, holding two women who were dancing together erotically.
Chase glanced up, blowing a kiss to his wife and girlfriend as they waved from their elevated height.
“And what's their reasoning?” I said through clenched teeth as we sat at the curved bar to the right of the stage.
Reaching for a whisky tumbler, I swirled it before downing the liquid in one.
Lowering his bulk next to me, Chase did the same before narrowing his gaze on me. “You haven't held a men's night here for two months.” Chase held up a hand to stop me from replying, “Which is your right. However, with Finley's removal and two of the men threatening to retract their patronage because they miss the club... they have a point.”
“I've been busy.” I grinned when he winked at me.
What could I say? Chase knew the drill. He had tamed many a woman and had helped them to heal their demons, even after meeting his wife. She had been happy for him to expand his sexual repertoire once she’d introduced him to the world of BDSM. He’d created his own method of breaking someone down in order to build them back up. When we’d discussed it in our dorm, I’d quickly realised that I wanted to try his ways. And from the first moment I’d encased a wrist into a handcuff, I’d known that this was my kink.
“It does take a lot of time and effort to introduce them to this world,” Chase murmured as a woman wearing nothing but a guitar came onto the stage. “Oh, she’s new… and very pretty.”
Following his gaze, I appreciated her dark hair and even darker eyes, but I quickly looked back to him. I wasn't poly like him, despite my body’s betrayal when it had come to Chase’s wife and her friend. There was still work to be done to allow myself to bond with my angel completely. And that had been the reason I’d not held any men's nights; I’d been too busy working and taming Lola.
“Is there someone you can trust?” he asked, smiling up at the woman as she settled on a stall and leaned towards the microphone. “Who could run the nights for you? Just because this place is your baby, doesn’t mean someone else can't take care of it for a while.”
“If that’s your unsubtle way of hinting that you want the night’s back, I'll sort it. ”
Watching the woman's hand strum the guitar, I stared as she started to sing. Her voice was heavenly, soft and deep as she sang a melody about fear and sadness. The other men grew quiet as they heard her, no doubt drawn by the haunting performance. She sang words that spoke to our souls, enticing them to listen.
“Good,” Chase said, his eyes hooded as he watched the performance on the stage, “because these men need to know that we're here for them, always. We can't expect them to give us their patronage, money and friendship without something in return.”
Ever the businessman, Chase glanced at me sideways and raised his eyebrows in challenge. I wouldn't deny his request, I had been meaning to get back to my duty, but Lola had consumed me, making it hard for me to be interested in the club.
“I shall endeavour to help us keep our business venture on track.” Smirking, I shrugged when he shook his head.
“If I have to give you a lesson on our charitable goals,” he said with a smile, “I will. In the meantime, don't forget that I have a power desire to satiate... and so do you.”
We couldn't lie about our kinks; it would go against everything we were. Yes, the money for charity was good and helping causes gave us a hard on... but it was more than that. The power that came with the money was more intoxicating that anything we did to help others. We controlled where that money went... and who was worthy of the cause. Still, I hadn't been too involved with that side of the business, instead too busy running both of my own.
“True,” I replied, sitting back and watching the woman on the stage stand and gyrate her bare hips. “Very true.”