Chapter 690: It’s better to dance

Amidst the sprawling ranch, Morgan Freeman's estate stood as a testament to both opulence and grandeur. Michelle, positioned on the third floor of one of the interconnected buildings, gazed out the window as Martin and Bruce were ushered into the largest villa by the iconic actor.

Beside her, Lynch remarked, "The plan executed flawlessly. Martin's now under Morgan's charm. Time to turn our attention to our operatives."

Michelle pondered for a moment before replying, "When you put a playboy in a room full of beauties, there's only one outcome. But do we want to play it safe?"

"Morgan's right, Martin's no ordinary mark," Michelle retorted, her tone laced with confidence. "I dug deep and found no ties to any unsavory dealings. Although, there were whispers of his escapades with Atlanta dealers a few years back."

A sly smile danced across her lips. "Corrupting him won't happen overnight. We'll first lure him in with allure, hook him with our company's charm, and then reel him in when the time's right."

Lynch nodded in agreement, realizing their boss's meticulous strategy to ensnare high-profile clients, especially in the political realm.

Meanwhile, in the main house of the estate, Martin found himself surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. Among the scant few men present, Martin and Bruce stood out amidst the sea of feminine allure.

The women, a diverse mix of hair colors and skin tones, exuded an irresistible charm. Even among the Asian contingent, there was a distinct absence of stereotypes, each possessing their own unique allure.

Morgan Freeman, ever the gracious host, introduced Martin to other notable guests, including Steve Cavill and Jim Caviezel, all engrossed in their own conversations and festivities.

As Martin presented his gift, he couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise at the casual elegance of the affair. Morgan graciously accepted the gift, passing it on to a stunningly beautiful woman by his side.

"Today's a special occasion," Morgan declared, gesturing towards the lavish accommodations. "Feel free to indulge in whatever catches your fancy. There's plenty of space for everyone."

With a charismatic clap, Morgan redirected everyone's attention to Martin. "Let's give our distinguished guest a warm welcome, shall we?"

For Martin, the scene unfolded seamlessly, as if choreographed. Three enchanting ladies approached him with a shared intent.

One, with fiery brown-red hair, poured wine with finesse, while the two blondes nestled closely beside him.

Martin, ever the seasoned observer, engaged them in brief conversation. The redhead, Malena Morgan, possessed a statuesque figure, exuding confidence in every movement. On his left, Nikia, a fair and slender beauty, appeared no older than twenty, radiating youthful allure.

The blonde bombshell on the right, known as Mia Markova, epitomized Western allure with her stunning curves and captivating presence.

It was evident that Morgan Freeman, the discerning host, had meticulously curated a trio of contrasting beauties for Martin's amusement.

Martin effortlessly bantered and flirted with the three girls, skillfully navigating the social dynamics of the gathering.

As the evening progressed, guests began to trickle upstairs, prompting Marlena Morgan, dressed in elegant white, to suggest, "Let's escape the chaos and head upstairs."

Agreeing with a nod, Martin rose from his seat, followed closely by Bruce, ever vigilant in his role as a bodyguard.

Navigating through the crowded second floor, Martin led the way to the quieter third floor, where privacy could be assured.

Glancing back at Bruce, Mia quipped, "Are your bodyguards joining in our little game too?"

Martin motioned for the girls to proceed ahead, then turned to Bruce and inquired, "Did you bring it?"

Bruce discreetly gestured towards the hidden camera on his chest, reassuring Martin of their surveillance capabilities.

With a preemptive warning about the lack of medical reports, Martin felt a pang of unease but maintained his composure.

Inside the room, Martin found a deck of cards, ideal for a round of poker.

As Martin shuffled the cards with concentration, Marlena couldn't help but tease, "Playing poker so seriously, Martin? Don't you prefer a different kind of gamble?"

Nikia, despite her youthful appearance, suggested a tantalizing twist to the game, proposing, "How about strip poker? The loser removes a piece of clothing."

Martin, surprisingly serious, agreed to the proposal, met with enthusiastic approval from Marlena and Mia.

With a playful glance, Nikia asserted, "Three to one, majority rules."

Martin chuckled, conceding, "Alright, I'll go along with it."

The game commenced, with Bruce positioned discreetly in the corner, keeping watch over the proceedings.

Martin's superior poker skills quickly became evident, as the girls playfully shed their garments with each loss.

As the game progressed, Marlena, noticing Martin's restraint, suggested a change of stakes. "Since we're running out of clothes, how about a dance for the losers?"

Agreeing unanimously, the group continued their game, with Martin gracefully accepting the outcome dictated by the consensus.

After the final hand, Marlena initiated a pulsating dance performance, igniting the room with her sensual movements.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Michelle glanced at her watch, feeling a surge of anticipation.

Moments later, Lynch burst into the room, delivering the awaited report. "Martin followed Marlena, Nikia, and Mia to the third floor, entering the same room."

A satisfied smile graced Michelle's lips. "Excellent."

Lynch's voice rang out with satisfaction, "Our first move was flawless. Martin's appetite for indulgence leaves him powerless to resist. With three distinct styles, there's bound to be one that captures his fancy."

Michelle, drawing from her vast experience in the business, chimed in, "Once is just the beginning. We'll lure him back time and again. Next time, we can suggest rendezvous at their places, further cementing our influence."

"In addition to Depp, we've secured new high-profile clients," Lynch added, emphasizing the allure of Hollywood stars' generosity compared to politicians' penny-pinching tendencies.

He recounted Charlie Sheen's lavish gift to Michelle, a testament to their exceptional service, contrasting with the straightforward financial dealings of stars like Johnny Depp.

Meanwhile, in the main villa, Morgan Freeman, a symbol of enduring vitality, reclined on the sofa, the weight of his years momentarily forgotten.

As other guests returned with their companions, Martin's absence became conspicuous, prompting wistful glances towards the third floor, where youth and vitality reigned supreme.

In the upstairs room, Mia, Marlena, and Nikia were visibly spent, their exertions evident in the sheen of sweat on their brows and the tremble in their legs.

Martin, in contrast, remained composed, having shed only his coat despite the heat of the moment.

Sensing their fatigue, Martin proposed a respite, suggesting, "Shall we call it a night? You all look exhausted."

Nikia, drained and thirsty, nodded fervently in agreement, echoing the sentiment.

After they dressed, Marlena handed Martin her contact card, a gesture of availability for future encounters, which Mia and Nikia replicated.

Accepting the cards with a nod of gratitude, Martin pocketed them as they made their way downstairs, the girls leaning on the handrail for support, their fatigue palpable.

Below, onlookers marveled at Martin's vitality, contrasting it with the girls' fatigue.

Morgan Freeman, too, observed with intrigue, remarking to Steve Cavill and Jim Caviezel, "His stamina is impressive. He effortlessly handles three tired companions while they struggle to keep up."

The women below, intrigued by the spectacle, exchanged whispers of admiration, pondering the events that transpired upstairs.