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Quality control, you know.”
    Phil’s jaw clenched. “You don’t say.”
    “Oh, I do. One time I went in there, and Terrance was prancing around naked.” Cora Lee giggled. “Vanda told him to put a sock on it.”
    “I understand,” Phil growled. As he stalked toward her office, the music ended. With his superior hearing, he heard Vanda’s voice through the door.
    “Oh my God, Peter, it’s huge!”
    “They don’t call me the Printh of Peckerth for nothing,” a man boasted.
    “You can’t let him on stage with that,” another man protested. “He’ll make us look small.”
    “You are smaller than me,” Peter insisted.
    “We are not!” a third male shouted.
    “Calm down!” Vanda’s voice sounded agitated. “Peter, I’m glad you’ve come back to dance for us, but this—this is too much. You’ll have to lose a few inches.”
    “No!” Peter screamed. “I won’t let you touch it!”
    “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” Vanda yelled. “Where are my scissors?”
    Peter squealed. Like a girl. Which he might be soon.
    Phil threw the door open and charged inside. “Vanda, stop! You can’t cut off a man’s——” He halted, stunned to see Vanda standing behind her desk with her scissors poised on a sparkling red sheath.
    It wasn’t a dong. It was a thong. With a long sheath stuffed like a sausage.
    Vanda’s mouth fell open. “Phil, what are you doing here?”
    He glanced around the office, noting that the three slender young men were fully clothed and regarding him curiously. “What are you doing, Vanda?”
    Her cheeks grew pink as she lowered the thong to the desk. “I was conducting a business meeting.”
    “Vanda,” one of the male dancers whispered. “Won’t you introduce us to your handsome young friend?”
    “Sure, Terrance.” Vanda spoke through gritted teeth. “This is Phil Jones.” She gestured to the other male dancers. “Terrance the Turgid, Freddie the Fireman, and Peter the Great.”
    “I remember you from the coven meeting,” Peter said. “You thaid you would help Vanda with her anger problem.”
    “I don’t have an anger problem!” Vanda pointed the scissors at Peter, then at Phil. “And I don’t need your help.”
    Phil arched a brow at her. “As your sponsor, I suggest you put the scissors down.”
    She slammed them onto the desk. “You are not my sponsor.”
    Terrance smiled at him. “You can be my sponsor.”
    Vanda groaned. “Phil, we’re trying to have a costume meeting here.” She handed Freddie a thong that looked like a fire hose, and Terrance a thong covered with ivy.
    Terrance dangled his costume in front of Phil’s face. “Isn’t it fabulous? I’m doing an ode to Tarzan.”
    “That’s nice,” Phil mumbled.
    Peter made a grab for the red sparkly thong.
    “No!” Vanda snatched it from his hand. “You’re not dancing in this monstrosity. I design the costumes, and I’ll tell you what to wear.”
    “That’th not fair,” Peter whined. “I had that cuth-tom made to fit me perfectly.”
    “No way,” Freddie grumbled. “You would have to use padding.”
    Peter huffed. “I never uthe padding.”
    “You would have to.” Vanda set the costume on the desk. “There isn’t a man on earth who could fill that thing.”
    “I’m not so sure about that.” Terrance glanced at Phil and winked.
    Phil had had all he could take. “This meeting is over.” He gave the men a warning look and motioned to the door. “You will leave.”
    “What?” Vanda’s eyes flashed with anger. “You can’t do that! This is my—” She paused when Peter and Freddie scurried from the room. “—office.”
    Terrance stopped halfway out the door and grinned at her. “Be nice, girlfriend. This one’s a keeper.”
    “Out,” Phil growled.
    “Oooh.” Terrance shivered. “Me Tarzan, you Phil.” He ran out.
    Phil shut the door. “Now we can talk.”
    Vanda glared at him. “I’m not talking to you. You’re acting like a caveman.”
    “I suppose