Why won't she? It's her job!

“I sure don’t, Mr. Devil!” Em answered, voice bright and theatrical, like she’d been doing this routine for years. She grabbed the top edge of her corset with both hands and yanked it down hard. Her breasts spilled free, full, soft, nipples already hard from the attention. She jumped once, light on her toes, then rocked side to side, making them bounce and jiggle in a way that looked practiced. The room exploded with hoots and whistles.

“I hope you like ’em, folks!” she shouted, winking big at the crowd. “Grew ’em myself!”

More cheers, some guys banging on tables. The hypnotist stepped in quickly, reached down between her legs and grabbed her pussy through the tiny skirt, a firm grip with no hesitation. He pulled her back toward him.

“That’s good enough, Em. Go get the prop for the next act.”

Em didn’t flinch or look offended. If anything, her smile got brighter. “Right away, Mr. Devil sir!” She spun on her heel and hurried offstage, tits still bouncing with every step.

Chuck stared after her. How the hell did she know what the next act was? She hadn’t been told anything out loud. The question sat heavy in his gut, but he couldn’t look away from the stage.

The hypnotist moved to the next woman in line. Mid-thirties, sharp features, sleek blonde bob cut straight across her shoulders. She wore a tailored black pantsuit, expensive, crisp, the kind that screamed boardroom. She stood with her arms folded, jaw tight, eyes locked on the hypnotist like she was already planning a lawsuit.

He pulled the mic out again and offered it to her. “Your turn, darling. Tell us who y-”

She snatched it from his hand before he could finish. “Whatever facade you’re running here,” she said, voice cold and cutting, staring him straight in the mask, “I want no part of it. This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”

The hypnotist just smiled, slow, patient. Then he snapped his fingers right in front of her face.

“Sleep!”

Her eyes slammed shut. Head dropped forward. The audience laughed again, louder this time, like they’d seen the trick coming.

He leaned in close, speaking soft into her ear for a long moment. Then he stepped back and raised his voice.

“Now why don’t you tell us who you really are?”

She lifted the mic to her lips, eyes still closed, voice flat and monotone.

“I’m Isabella Voss. A dumbass CEO who thinks I can boss people around anywhere and they’d listen to me because I’m richer and more powerful than them. I’m here with my team members.”

A table near the front, four men in suits, burst into cheers and whoops, raising their glasses because they’d just been named.

The audience laughed harder.

The hypnotist tilted his head. “Looks like money is very important to Miss Voss here. It must pain her to not be making any money while at the show. We can solve that.”

Right on cue, Em came striding back out from the wings, pushing a chrome stripper pole on a rolling base. She positioned it next to Isabella, locked the wheels with a quick stomp of her heel, and stepped back with a little curtsy.

The hypnotist covered Isabella’s eyes with both hands, just like he’d done with Emily. Whispered again, longer this time. Isabella’s head nodded once, twice, slow at first, then eager. When he pulled away, he spread his arms wide.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome our newly reborn ice queen… Belle!”

The lights shifted, focused tight on Isabella. Music kicked in, low bass thump with a sultry beat. She opened her eyes. No more cold rage. Just a slow, sultry smile, naughty and knowing. She stepped toward the pole, wrapped one leg around it high up and started moving.

Her hands went to her jacket first. She ripped it off roughly, twirled it over her head once, then flung it into the crowd. A guy at a front table caught it and whooped. She kept going, buttons popping on her blouse as she tore it open, skirt unzipped and shoved down her hips in one motion. She didn’t fold anything neatly. She ripped, she tossed, she performed. The bra came next, unhooked and thrown like it offended her. Finally, her panties, sliding down her legs as she spun on the pole, naked now, skin gleaming under the lights. She climbed higher, legs wrapping tight, then dropped into a slow grind that made the whole room roar.

The hypnotist nodded to Em. She unlocked the wheels on the pole’s base and started pushing it, Isabella still twirling and grinding, toward the edge of the stage and down a short ramp into the audience section.

“Anyone wanting a lap dance or just to show appreciation to Belle here can do so in her own private corner for the rest of the night!”

The four men from Isabella’s table were already on their feet, high-fiving each other, moving toward where Em parked the pole. One of them slapped a stack of bills onto a small side table. Belle, the erstwhile Isabella didn’t stop dancing. Just kept smiling, eyes half-lidded, like this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Chuck’s heart was hammering. Everything was happening too fast. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the stage. The way these women changed, snapped into new roles like a switch had been flipped. No resistance left. No memory of who they’d been five minutes ago.

If the hypnotist was going in order…

The thought barely formed before the hypnotist turned around. He looked straight down the line, past the remaining women and beckoned her with one gloved finger.

Chuck knew who was supposed to be next...

Katie.