Melissa showed up early on Tuesday morning to get a feel for the layout of Bear Buns. After all, if she was supposed to manage all the stages, she needed to know exactly where everything was. Begrudgingly, she’d let Renee know that she was now her second in command. Renee generously offered to show Melissa around the club. Melissa accepted Renee’s offer, but she couldn’t deny that Renee’s positive attitude grated on her.

“And here is the last of the cocktail—I mean, dessert—rooms, for the yeti bears,” whispered Renee. “All the bears are still sleeping. The club provides breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all employees, not just the dancers. Our head chef serves up the food on the main stage, which is Stage One.”

“Got it,” said Melissa. “And when’s that?”

“In a few minutes,” said Renee. “If you want to get to the spread before the bears attack the buffet, we can go get our plates now.”

“That’s a smart idea,” admitted Melissa.

“Why did you decide to work here anyway?” asked Renee. “No offense, but you don’t seem super happy about this job.”

“I saw last week’s show,” said Melissa. “I was hired yesterday, a few hours before I introduced myself to the stagehands.”

“Did we offend you?” asked Renee.

“No,” said Melissa. “The glacier bears pointed out that I don’t have experience with theater management as applied to a strip club. They have a point.”

“Don’t you let those icy bastards get in your head,” scolded Renee. “You are the theater manager, not them. You have to be the alpha female.”

“And how is an alpha female supposed to dominate a pack of twelve dominant alpha males?” asked Melissa. “The mountain bears seem mellow enough, but they’ve found their mate. That leaves ten more bears for me to wrangle into submission, and I’m not exactly a shifter.”

“You’re going to have to do the best you can with what you’ve got, and that’s that,” said Renee, leading Melissa up to the buffet. Renee introduced Melissa to the kitchen staff who let Renee and Melissa start picking at the buffet.

Melissa took a seat with Renee. She had barely finished her first cup of coffee before a stampede of bear shifters came into Stage One and massacred the buffet like werelions on a gazelle.

“They’re doing some serious damage,” said Melissa. “Good call about getting to the buffet early.”

“Why else would I come to the strip club this early in the morning?” asked Renee, quirking a brow.

The shifters were all wearing workout shorts and shirts, all branded with the Bear Buns club logos. Melissa spotted the glacier bears piling up a big stack of pancakes and bacon on their plate. The bears took a seat with the other dancers and ate in silence, icing everyone else out.

“They’re hot, aren’t they?” asked Renee.

“What? No,” lied Melissa, blushing.

“Uh-huh, sure they’re not,” said Renee. “That’s what got them hired as strippers—not looking handsome. Uh-huh. You tell yourself what you need to tell yourself.”

“Fine. The glacier bears are a little attractive,” admitted Melissa. “I can’t mix work and pleasure, though, and…well, I don’t think the glacier bears like me much.”

“Why? Because they teased you a little?” asked Renee. “You’re new. That’s normal at any new job.”

“I haven’t been in a new industry in years,” said Melissa. “I can handle drama llamas, heck, even drama werellamas. I can’t handle alpha male strippers. Maybe this isn’t the right job for me.”

“You got another job lined up?” asked Renee.

“No,” admitted Melissa.

“Then this is the job you’ve got, so you best start doing it,” said Renee. “I’m here to help you out. I’m your BBW on the ground, your go-fer.”

“Thanks, Renee,” said Melissa. “I can see why the glacier bears told me to give you a chance. You know your shizz.”

“They were the ones that told you to hire me?” asked Renee with a smirk. “I guess they’re smart and hot.”

Melissa had looked around Bear Buns on Monday and on Tuesday morning, with Renee’s help, she’d gotten a lay of the land (if not a lay from the bears). Now, it was time for her to see how the club operated. She needed to identify anything that was interfering with the strippers doing their jobs. She visited every backstage area, the kitchens, the ticket booths, and every other room at the club.

At the end of the day, before the staff left and the dancers were free to do whatever they wanted (as the club functioned as their dorm), Melissa called an all-hands meeting.

“Frankly, it’s a miracle you put on that show last week,” said Melissa. “I’ve looked around the club and found some departments in need of some serious improvement. First of all, what’s going on with the costume department? Why are costume changes taking so long? And why don’t we have more costumes for the strippers? Women want to see men stripping, but they also want to see a story. Costumes and sets tell the story. Sets, you’re doing okay, but costumes, we need to find your department a leader.”

“Agreed,” admitted one of the stagehands who’d been working in the costumes department.

“Next, we need to find a DJ,” said Melissa. “We need a dedicated DJ for the main stage area and one who can also handle the entire squad of DJs. One DJ handling nine stages is insane. He’s going to burn out.

“That’s true,” said the solo DJ. “It’s been one heck of a week. We need more DJs.”

“We also need a head bartender,” said Melissa. “I ordered my usual drink at each of the nine bars by the nine stages. Guess what? I ended up with a drink that tasted different each time. Unacceptable. We need to offer consistency, people. That means consistently good dances. That means good food. That means good cocktails.”

The bartenders nodded.

“I noticed that all the dancers have done their own makeup,” said Melissa.

“We don’t do makeup,” interrupted one of the yeti bears. “We just put on glitter.”

“That’s part of the problem,” said Melissa. “Listen up, werebears. You’ve got bods. You’ve got faces. But those theater lights, they’re not flattering for anyone. What we need is a makeup artist. That way, if you have a blemish, they can cover it. They can work with the costume department to come up with elaborate looks that would require makeup. Most importantly, it’s one less step for you lot to handle. All the dancers should be focused on is dancing. They shouldn’t be handling costumes or makeup.”

“Is that all?” asked a familiar voice. Melissa looked. Neil had his arms crossed and was smirking.

“No,” said Melissa. “You’d know if I was done.”

The other staff members and dancers laughed.

“Frankly, the only department that has it together is the kitchen,” said Melissa. “Congratulations. You serve up consistent, delicious food, on a schedule. I had your ice cream at the show last week. It was great. But this isn’t an ice cream parlor. This is a strip club. The rest of the departments need to be as on point as the kitchens are. That includes the dancers.”

“And what exactly is wrong with us?” asked Hudson.

“I don’t think we’re leaning into the summer stuff enough,” said Melissa. “Where are the beach balls the dancers could toss into the audience? What about using swimsuits on stage?”

“You have no idea what the women want to see,” said Neil.

“I’m a woman,” said Melissa, putting a hand to her hip. “I’m a whole lot of woman. I know what women want. Trust me.”

“You know what you want, not what the women who come here, to sit in the audience and watch us strip, want,” said Hudson. “You can go to any other strip club in Denver and see what you described. Bear Buns is the only shifter strip club in the city. What people want to see is simple. They want to see our bare buns. Then, they want to see our bears and their buns. If they wanted to see swimsuits, they’d open up a clothing catalog.”

“Don’t think about what would make sense,” said Neil. “This isn’t a place for sense. This is a place for sensuality. Forget rationality. Embrace the romance.”

“The romance?” asked Melissa.

“What’s your fantasy?” asked Hudson, crossing his arms.

As soon as Hudson asked Melissa that question, the setting of her fantasy popped into her head. It was cold, ice cold, unlike the hot strip club. She was in a room made of ice. In the center of the room was a slab of ice. On the bed, furs, and on the furs, two men, with blonde and blue-streaked hair, wearing abso-frikkin-lutely nothing.

Why did those glacier bears have to be so frikkin’ sexy? Why did they have to be the first thing that popped into her head when she thought about a sexual fantasy? She chased the thought out of her head. She must’ve had some signals cross in her brain. There was no way she actually found the glacier bears sexy. Sure, they were sexy on paper, but she’d actually interacted with them. They were cocky, self-assured, and butted heads with her whenever they found an opportunity to disagree with her, even when it was obvious she was entirely in the right.

She was, wasn’t she? There was no way that they knew more about managing the club when they were just performers, and she had years of theater management under her belt.

They were sexy, but that didn’t make up for the rest of the decidedly unsexy qualities they had. There was no way she’d ever find dominant, cocky men like the glacier bears sexy, especially when they seemed so possessive of their strip club.

“Well?” asked Neil.

“None of anyone’s business,” said Melissa. “Fine. We’ll do things your way this week. If it works out, I’ll leave the fantasy crafting to the experts. If it doesn’t, I’ll change things around here.”

“Deal,” said Hudson as he looked around. The other dancers nodded and agreed to the challenge.

“You’re on,” said Melissa. “Get ready to bounce some beach balls.”

“There’s only one kind of ball we plan on bouncing,” said Neil.

Melissa felt her cheeks burn. She couldn’t show weakness. If she showed weakness, nobody would take her seriously as the theater manager.

“Then are you just going to talk about it, or are you going to get bouncing?” asked Melissa, putting a hand on her hip. “Meeting over. Come on, people, we’ve got a show to put on, and it’s already Tuesday. All we’ve got left is Wednesday and Thursday. Friday’s the big day, people. Are we going to put on a show, or are we going to sit around bouncing our balls? Go, go, go! You all need to rest up.”

“Got it, coach,” said Neil, saluting Melissa before leaving the backstage area with Hudson.

“They got under your skin, huh?” asked Renee as the dancers cleared out of the backstage area.

“It was that obvious?” asked Melissa.

“Honey, you three are the dictionary definition of ‘sexual tension,’“ said Renee. “What exactly did you fantasize about when Hudson asked you that dirty question?”

“A ménage,” said Melissa. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie.

“Ah, so you are the adventurous type,” said Renee. “Here I was thinking you were heartless, rather than a hopeless romantic.”

“Do I come off as heartless?” asked Melissa.

“Sorry, but—” started Renee.

“That’s good,” said Melissa. “I need to be taken seriously. Romantics aren’t taken seriously. Heartless bitches are the ones that get respect in the end.”

“In the end? But honey, this is just your beginning,” said Renee. “Why did you come to this club?”

“Because…what I saw on that stage had me believing in true love,” admitted Melissa. “I thought Fate must’ve brought me here, to the show, for a reason, and when I saw the job posting online, I knew that this was where I belonged.”

“Because you have a crush on one of the pairs of dancers?” asked Renee.

“No. I don’t care if the man, or men, I fall in love with are stripper hot or not,” said Melissa. “Good looks fade. Love, true love, like what I saw on that stage when the mountain bears proposed to their fated mate…that’s forever.”

Melissa suddenly heard something. What she heard was nothing at all. It was the absence of the persistent low hum she’d heard around the strip club. As she felt the club go from hot to hotter, she realized what had happened.

“Where’s the main set of controls for the HVAC system?” asked Melissa.

Renee led Melissa to the control room, where a row of panels that controlled the air conditioning system across the club was installed in a wall. Each panel controlled the temperature of a specific section of the club. Melissa read each panel, one by one, even though after reading the first three panels, she could have predicted what they all said.

“Error,“ read Melissa. “Every panel say ‘Error.’“

“Check underneath the panel and see if there’s a sticker telling you what company handles the HVAC,” suggest Renee.

Melissa found the name of the HVAC company.

“Thanks, Renee, great idea,” said Melissa.

Melissa sat in the HVAC room waiting for someone from the HVAC company to answer the phone. It was late, but not that late. She found the owner’s name online and found the owner’s name in a phonebook in the administrative department. While Melissa handled calling the HVAC service, Renee made sure to go around the club and explain the situation to the staff.

Melissa finally got ahold of the owner, who promised to send someone out the next day. Melissa took down details about the appointment and headed out to find Renee hanging out with the dancers in the central stage area.

“Is it done? Did you find someone to fix it?” asked Renee.

“Yes, but they won’t be able to send someone out until tomorrow morning,” said Melissa. Ten of the dancers groaned.

“Guys, get a grip,” said Neil. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Yeah,” said Hudson. “We’re glacier bears. We’re used to the cold. Our shifts think seventy degrees is boiling hot. But, we can all make it through the night without the AC.”

“What exactly do you suggest we do?” asked one of the spirit bears.

“Melissa, remember your suggestion about how we should do a summer-themed set?” asked Neil. “Do you think you and Renee would be able to go to the big box mart that’s open 24/7 and grab a big inflatable pool? Make that a few. We’d need to fit all twelve strippers in them, plus you two.”

“Plus us?” asked Melissa. “Oh, no. Renee and I can go home and shower.”

“Ha! Speak for yourself,” said Renee.

“Fine,” said Melissa. “Let’s go to the store. We’ll be back in forty. Try not to melt by then.”

Melissa and Renee got into Melissa’s big van. As a theater manager, Melissa had bought a used van, so she could transport anything a production might need at a moment’s notice, whether it was hungover actors or last-minute props. Melissa parked outside the store. While Renee went to buy herself a cheap plus-size swimsuit, Melissa figured out what pools to buy. She made sure not to forget to get a pump, too.

Melissa checked out the pools and pump and kept the receipt for the club. Renee bought a ton of junk with her own card. They headed back to the club, where the dancers unloaded the van and set up the pools. All the dancers were ready for a pool party. They were all wearing swimsuits, including Neil and Hudson, who were also wearing soaking wet black shirts, as the wet fabric would keep their upper torsos cool.

“Thanks for getting all this,” said Neil. “The club will reimburse you.”

“They better,” said Melissa, showing Neil and Hudson the receipt before putting it back in her wallet.

“Ouch,” said Hudson. “You did some serious damage. Thank you. The whole club thanks you.”

“You guys better use these pools as props for a show,” joked Melissa.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” asked Neil, motioning to the pool.

“I would, but I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” demurred Melissa.

“You’re a 5XL like me, right?” asked Renee, tossing Melissa a white bathing suit she’d picked up at the store. Renee walked over to the pools full of strippers and chose to sit with the spirit and yeti bears. She was the BBW spice in their shifter stew.

“Yeah, I am,” admitted Melissa lamely.

“Great. You have a swimsuit,” said Hudson. “If you stay and have a dip with us, would you be disappointing someone back home?”