Marc
Marc raised an eyebrow and laughed. He was fond of that brutal honesty. It's the sort of thing he liked better than a stab in the back.
"Nah, let me rephrase that - anything other than the care package is up to the host's discretion." He answered her with a casual shrug, picked up some speed and drifted off to the elegant palace of neon lights. "And it's not something I promote, a lot of the workers are regular people. Rich men have their mistresses, but they still have a face to protect. If you push your luck, it's not just your safety that you could be dealing with, but others as well. That is why this is juuuust a cafe where women can spend some time in good company."
Yeah, he was fine taking risks for himself, but his boys were a different matter. There was no need to recklessly play with their lives. Relationships outside of work obviously happened, but they were just that - relationships. He wasn't going to jeopardize the safety and livelihood of his employees by putting a -come here and get your puss stuffed- sign. Men and ladies of the night played a game, and the rules were no secret.
"Most just want someone to listen to them, spend time with them... you know, just whatever makes them feel valuable and loved. You'd be surprised how lonely the rich can get. Aaand you're not that big girl. If you can get a fat guy in a suit, we can totally manage you."
The motorbike finally stopped by the parking lot. A turn of the key was enough to turn off the engine, and he took off his helmet casually.
"I'll show you the business alright. But a side is just as important as the real deal, and a valid source of income. Only amateurs neglect their fronts, it makes it too obvious. That's why I incorporate both as my base of operations. There's other spots around, but they're not as flashy."
