The Keepers Story 01 - The Gatekeeper

was clad in something that resembled a stewardess uniform from the earliest days of commercial flight.
    “Welcome,” she said. “They told me you were on your way up. Please, if you’ll join me in the antechamber, we’ll discuss what brings you to us, what fantasy you would like fulfilled and what kind of entertainment will satisfy your heart’s desire.”
    Antechamber? Interesting word for a business office.
    He smiled. “Of course.”
    He was loath to leave the entry. He could almost feel the hot gold-and-emerald gaze of the woman behind the glass.
    Not to mention her contempt.
    He forced himself not to look back, though it was difficult.
    But he followed the buxom blonde. She led him into an elegant office. Her desk—which still held the obligatory computer and phone—was carved ebony with handsome ivory insets. Her office chair was upholstered in a deep burnished crimson, like the massive chairs that sat across from it. Marble statuary graced the edges of the room, and a plate-glass window looked out over the sunbaked brilliance of the Vegas Strip.
    “So...” she said, sitting down and folding her long-fingered, exquisitely manicured hands, and smiled. “What is your wildest dream, sir? How may we entertain you? Do you dream of angels or demons? Or perhaps something in between—a dance of innocents and vixens together? Is your dream girl slim or curved or...?” She lifted her hands, the fabric of her suit jacket stretching across her breasts. “We seek to entertain, sir. Our performances are among the most talented in the country. But we cannot entertain you unless we know what it is you seek.”
    He leaned forward and met her eyes, then gave her a charming smile. “Candy,” he said.
    She paled slightly. “We have Asian beauties who can twist and turn in ways that you’ve never imagined. We have Russian acrobats who sail across a room as gracefully as the last great ships that rode the oceans’ breezes. African women whose movements can rival the rhythm of any heart. Irish lasses who can dance their way into the bloodstream.”
    “Candy,” he repeated.
    His hostess sat back, perplexed. She pursed her perfect cherry-red lips.
    “Candy—despite the name of our establishment—has not been with us long. She is a rare and exotic talent, so rare that her contract here allows her to choose when to entertain privately.”
    He nodded. “Candy.”
    The woman sighed.
    He tapped his platinum card on the table as if in thought. “Perhaps you would see if the young woman might be willing to give me just a few minutes of her time.”
    “I...” The blonde clearly intended to protest.
    He leaned closer to her and deepened his smile, seeking her eyes and staring into them. “Candy,” he said again.
    She rose without breaking eye contact. “I’ll speak with her.”
    He nodded, watching her go. Once she was out of the room, he was on his feet. He quickly made his way around the desk to the computer and looked up Candy’s employee file. She was listed only as Candy—no last name. Her hours were listed as “general entertainment,” and, as the blonde had said, there was a notation by her name that read “Will choose individual clients.”
    He frowned as he heard the blonde returning, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
    By the time she entered the room, he was back in his chair. He quickly stood, looking at her expectantly.
    “Candy will see you,” she said, and turned. “This way, please.”
    He followed her down an elegantly paneled hallway until she stopped, opened a door and ushered him in.
    Saxon stepped into the room, but he didn’t see Candy. Nor did he notice when the door closed behind him.
    A marble-floored entryway led to a large, richly carpeted room. Sunlight poured through French doors that led to a balcony and offered a view of the nearby fountains at the Bellagio and a stunning view of the entire Vegas Strip.
    A huge Venetian-tiled whirlpool bath looked out toward the balcony. Heavy furniture in oak, mahogany and ebony filled the room, along with a massive bed whose hand-carved head- and footboard supported an elegant canopy.
    He knew he was being observed.
    He noticed an Oriental screen beside the whirlpool.
    And as he watched, Candy emerged from behind the screen.
    His breath caught in his throat when he recognized the dancer who had seduced and entranced and hypnotized him from behind the glass.
    She wasn’t dressed as she had been before, or as he would have expected