Eeping an Eye on You

WARNING

! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18

ONLY

. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional

ONLY

and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright © 2024 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Arnold Davidson sat on the stage-front barstool at the Krazy Kat Klub just as he had done every night for the past two and a half weeks. He was relatively young-- mid to late twenties-- and there was a military bearing to the way he stood and walked. But his slight limp and some obvious, but muted, scars on the right side of his face made it clear that his fighting days were behind him.

The girls called him "fiver on a budget," meaning that he threw five dollar bills onto the stage or tucked them into the girls' g-strings when they did their bump and push-ass moves really close to the front of the stage, but he obviously had a set limit of how many bills he would give them on any given night.

The girls could always tell what money came from him because he folded all of his bills into little paper airplanes. Some of the other customers did that, but they also often tried to hit the girls in very sensitive areas with the pointed end of their one-dollar airplanes. Fiver's bills were unique, and not only because they were fives. He folded his bills in advance in a special way so that the front was not pointed, but was rather squared off. It made it a little harder to unfold, but there was no danger of a sharp point hitting something sensitive.

The bartenders and servers had a different name for Arnold. They called him "One-eyed Jack," because he had an obvious glass eye. The color of the iris, a dark brown, matched his left eye pretty well, but the white was really bright and the glass eye didn't quite track the same as his other eye. You couldn't tell any of that when he had his glasses on because they were slightly tinted gray and somewhat hid the differences between the glass and real eye. Evidently those glasses were also auto-darkening because when the bright lights came on for the dancers, the lenses would become almost black.

Arnold / Fiver / One-eyed Jack had become a regular at the Krazy Kat Klub. Everyone assumed he was in town for some long-range job or something and that he had a food or housing allowance that gave him the money that he was flying onto the stage nightly and using to pay for his drinks as well as the extra cover charge for the stage-front seat.

They were right. Except it wasn't exactly a long-range job. Arnold, a former Marine MP, was a private investigator, and he was on a long-term assignment with the liquor commission. There were rumors that the Krazy Kat had a special Saturday night after-hours show that violated state and local liquor and decency laws. Several different agencies had tried several times to prove those violations, but every attempt failed. Arnold, however, was the perfect PI to get the proof. You see, Arnold's glass eye was more than a cosmetic aid to make him look more normal. It was a camera.

The camera in Arnold's right eye did not transmit to some agents hiding in a truck outside. Instead it stored everything internally to be downloaded later. The only shortcoming was that it couldn't capture audio at the same time. Tears and the blinking of his eyelid would interfere too much with the audio. Normally that wouldn't be a problem for Arnold because he would just wear a wire that could later be synchronized with the video. But he couldn't wear a wire at the Krazy Kat Klub. He couldn't use anything that transmitted a signal because Big Juan, the owner of the club, had installed just about every known type of sophisticated surveillance detection equipment. Anyone wearing a wire or even with their cellphone on was very forcefully shown the door. There was a big sign at the entrance that said, "All cellphones OFF. All anything OFF. If it's on, you're OUT."

If the bouncers even suspected you were recording the girls, you would have to have a really good explanation or get thrown out... after they had used one of their special machines to delete all of the videos from your cellphone. And those special apps which supposedly hide the videos stored on your phone didn't help. Big Juan had better apps that could find anything and everything on your phone. If you had a small video recorder of some sort that you thought was well hidden in your clothing, well that triggered the sensors. After a quick search of your clothing, it was stomped under the bouncer's boot and the pieces dropped in the trash. Then you were bounced out of the club... literally.

The fact that Big Juan was so careful about things only made the local liquor and law enforcement people even more determined to find out what was going on. And they were determined enough to hire an out-of-town private investigator with a special glass eye camera.

The third day Arnold was there, the security screens detected something. Two of the big bouncers took him back to the office area and asked him to empty his pockets... and then take off his jacket... and then his shirt, and shoes and pants and even his underwear. A hand held sweep beeped loudly as it passed over Arnold's face.

"May I get something out of my billfold?" he asked politely.

The bouncers grunted at him and he pulled his billfold from his pants and removed two pictures. They were x-rays of his head showing several plates and screws... and a small electronics unit with wires going all over the inside of his head.

"I keep these for when I have to fly," he said flatly. "It saves a lot of time. The plates are from when they put my head back together. The wiring is for an anti-seizure system. It detects when something is going to happen and sort of short circuits it."

Big Juan stepped out of the shadows and said, "Sorry about the misunderstanding." He handed Arnold a small square coupon that said, "One Free Admission and First Drink" on it. Arnold said, "Thanks," put his clothes back on and went back to his stage-front stool.

Six weeks passed and Arnold continued his nightly routine. He befriended, of sorts, one of the dancers. Her name was Tiffany. From the way she said it, that was probably her real name. Arnold didn't press her for a last name. She had a dancer's body with somewhat small breasts, a well-rounded ass, silky brown hair that hung well below her shoulders, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She wasn't the youngest one out there on the stage, but she was the "freshest"-- meaning that she didn't have that artificial face and smile of many of the dancers. Her smile was natural, but Arnold thought he could see a hint of pain in her eyes as she danced.

Their strange friendship started one night when she was doing ass thrusts directly in front of him. Her rosebud was basically on full display for an instant with only the fine line of a G-string nestled in her ass crack. She had her hands on her knees and was rotating slowly so she was twerking at him and the others seated in the front row. Arnold timed it very carefully as he sent a fiver plane flying directly at her ass. His timing... and his aim... were perfect. The fiver plane hit dead center on her rosebud just as the twerk brought her asscheeks together.

She stood up suddenly, breaking the rhythm of her dance and grabbed the folded bill from her ass crack. She laughed and then smiled at him as she continued to dance across the stage in sort of a hop-skip as she smiled out at the crowd. She held up the fiver plane for others to see and used her fingers to show that it was blunt and not pointed. She picked up a pointed one dollar plane from the stage and shook her finger back and forth indicating that such a fold was a not desired. For the rest of that night, and then every night, she would ass catch several of Arnold's fiver planes each evening. And she would often come out to talk to him between her routines. Arnold was somewhat surprised that she didn't push him to buy her drinks. She was more than somewhat surprised that Arnold treated her like a normal person.

Thursday night she came out to talk to him. As usual, she was wearing a short, thin, black robe so that she conformed to the liquor and anti-solicitation laws for performers mingling with the crowd. But she wasn't smiling. In fact, her face was devoid of all emotion. "They want me to invite you to the special after hours show," she said softly. She looked down at the floor and said, "I don't like doing those shows, but Big Juan has videos of me on stage and he says that if I don't do them, he will post those videos on line so I can never get any job other than this." She looked up, shrugged, and her face looked almost panicked. "I'm not sure he wouldn't do it anyway. That's why I haven't applied for any jobs."

"What job would you like to get?" Arnold asked.

She laughed and then said, "Would you believe an accountant? I had to drop out of high school to help my mother, but she's gone now. I went back and finished high school and then college." She hung her head and said flatly, "I think you can guess how I managed to pay for that." Then she looked up and continued. "I've passed my CPA tests," she said brightly, "so all I have to do is work under someone's supervision for a year to be fully licensed."

Her head hung down again and she said flatly, "But who wants to hire a stripper accountant?"

"You'd be amazed," Arnold said. For some reason his voice was also flat and emotionless."So when is this special show?" he asked. "And what is the password or whatever."

"Saturday night, two-thirty am," she replied. "The password is Ben Franklin, and President Grant plus an Andrew Jackson tip will get you your regular front row bar stool."

"How much are the drinks?" he asked.

"Double what they are on regular nights," she answered. Then she looked down slightly and added, "but the show is worth it."

"Can you come out and sit with me after your routine?" he asked.

"Juan demands that we do that," she said timidly, looking down at the ground. "I'm only in the opening dance," she said a little firmer. Then almost angrily she said, "That's where he starts everyone until he can convince us... or force us... to do the rest of the show."

She took a deep breath and then said in almost a sign, "I will come out and sit with your after the opening."

"Wear at least what you have on now," he said, "or something thicker."

She again looked down at the floor. Then, after a long silence she said, almost stuttering, "Juan wants us out here naked."

"The customer... who will be paying for your very overpriced drinks," Arnold said firmly, "... wants you clothed," Then he laughed slightly and said, "It's important to me." After a pause, he added, "And it will be very important to you. Better yet, wear your regular clothes and make sure you have your purse or billfold or whatever with your student ID in it. If anyone objects, tell them that I am paying extra for you to look like my date."

Tiffany looked up at him confused. Then she smiled. She seemed somehow very relieved as she said, "The customer is always right." She stood up and turned to leave. As she walked away she said, "See you Saturday night."

Arnold was there for the regular Saturday night show. His aim seemed to be off, or maybe Tiffany was intentionally not fully twerking when she was directly facing him with her rosebud. None of his fiver-planes hit home. As usual, Arnold stayed until closing at two am. Then he went out to his car and waited. He was parked in the back of the lot so he could see the lot empty and the lights go out. The dancing Krazy Kat sign also went dark. The only visible light was the "Closed" sign in the window next to the door.

A little before two-thirty some cars started arriving. In some cities, that would be enough of a reason to raid the place, but the Krazy Kat Klub was located in an unincorporated strip between two towns. Only county laws applied, and Big Juan had a four o'clock license. He legally could stay open until four if he wanted to so there was nothing that could be done unless someone could prove what was going on. And eye witness testimony, even that of a law officer, wasn't enough. Big Juan had scores of his own witnesses and videos with doctored date and time stamps to show that the weekly show was just a little more suggestive than the regular shows.

The dancing Krazy Kat on the roof remained dark, but the "Closed" sign went off. No "Open" sign replaced it. Instead, the dim lighting visible through the closed blinds in the windows was all that indicated that the place might be open.

Arnold waited until a half-dozen cars were in front of the club and then walked up to the door. As Tiffany had said, it cost $100 to get in and $50 for his stage front seat. He didn't forget the $20 tip to the bouncer who led him to his stool.

At exactly three a.m. Big Juan stepped out onto the stage from between the curtains. He smiled at everybody and said, "Is everybody ready to have some fun?"

The crowd roared back, "Yeah!" and he laughed.

Then he leaned in slightly and said "Make sure that your cellphones are completely off." He wagged his finger at the crowd and said, "I don't mean on "Do Not Disturb", I mean OFF!" He held up his arm as if looking at his watch and said, "I'm giving you one minute."

Exactly one minute later, the whole place buzzed with a strange humming sound. Arnold grabbed his head and groaned. At one of the tables near the front a man jumped up slapping at the front of his shirt. He grabbed something and threw it on the floor where it burst into flames.

Big Juan laughed a deep, evil laugh and said, "I told you to turn your phones OFF! And if any of you have any sort of recording device, I think you will find that it no longer works."

Arnold touched the side of his glasses. A soft flash of colors showed on his glasses indicating that the video projection had not been damaged. The colors flashed rapidly and a soft beep deep within his skull indicated that the glass eye camera was also still functional. The glasses had been off, and the screening that held his head together had acted as a shield to protect his magic eye. Arnold was ready for the show.

There was a long, fast, loud, drum beat from the sound system and then Big Juan's voice boomed over the sound system. "Let's give a big welcome to the Krazy Kat Klub dancers!"

The curtains opened revealing six young women, including Tiffany, dancing in a classic Can-can line. It didn't look much different than the start of the regular Krazy Kat show routine except that when the dresses flashed up high it was apparent that there was nothing... not even a g-string... under those dresses.

After the girls danced several times across the stage, they did the customary turn and bend over move so they could flip their dresses up over their backs. Arnold let out an angry breath, but kept his head steady. His eye camera was recording everything. There was a flickering of light from his projection glasses that may or may not have been a reflection of the stage lights.

He watched as Tiffany and the others slowly pulled their long gloves from their arms and tossed them off stage. Then they all repeated the flip the dress up over your back routine, but this time when they turned back to face the audience, the dresses dropped to the floor.

On a normal night, there would be underwear and a short chemise under the dresses, but for this special show, there was nothing... no pasties... no g-string... nothing. Six girls were standing on the stage naked kicking their legs high into the air.

After a few minutes, the six danced toward the front of the stage and then turned around. This was the point in the dance whereArnold would sail a folded five-dollar bill into Tiffany's rosebud. His aim was off or perhaps her twerks weren't strong enough. In any case, the folded fives bounced off her asscheeks and dropped to the stage floor.

The girls bounced across the front of the stage going from stage left to stage right with each girl doing a relatively good kick step. Then the music ended and the stage lights went off. A bright spotlight illuminated Big Juan standing at the edge of the stage. In the dimness of the rest of the stage, six naked girls could be seen hurriedly scooping up the money spread across the stage. Arnold looked down at his hands and then threw another fiver airplane onto the stage. For some reason he kept looking down until all of the girls finished scooping up the cash. Then he looked directly at Big Juan whose sparkly suit glittered in the bright spotlight.

"That's just our introduction," Big Juan called out. "And those are our novice dancers. They will be coming out to join you for the rest of the show. If you buy them a glass of champagne, they will sit with your for a while." He smiled... it was more of a leer than a smile... then he said loudly, "If you buy them a bottle, they will stay longer." The leer almost split his face as he added, "... three bottles and they will sit with you through the whole show."

Arnold had to stiffen his neck muscles to keep from shaking his head. He could feel bile and anger swelling up within his body. Then a soft voice next to him said, "I'm here. And I'm dressed like you asked."

A naked waitress stepped in front of him. "Special requests mean special orders," she said without the plastic smile leaving her face. "Four bottles of champagne at one hundred and fifty each is six hundred dollars."

Arnold reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out six Benjamins, and laid them on the table. He reached in again and laid a fifty next to the pile as a tip for the waitress.

"You want them all at once or one at a time?" The she asked with a light laugh.

"We will start with one," Arnold said flatly. Big Juan knew how to fleece his clientele. A man might buy three bottles at four hundred and fifty dollars to keep a naked girl sitting with him for the rest of the show, but there is no way they would... or could... drink all three bottles of the overpriced champagne. If the girl was willing, they might go back to his place, but he would be told that he couldn't take the extra bottles with him. Apparently any extra charges after that would be up to the girls.

"I never go home with them," Tiffany said softly. Arnold looked over and her head was bowed down looking at the floor. "Some of the girls want to," she said looking up at Arnold, "but the others go because they are just too desperate for money or too afraid of Juan."

"Why don't you go?" Arnold asked, looking directly at Tiffany.

"I don't want to be trapped in this life," she said firmly. "I am fighting tooth and nail to get out, but that son of a bitch is slowly dragging me down."

In response, Arnold said firmly, "I need to watch the rest of the show." Then he added, "Just stay close to me and sip your champagne slowly." His face and voice took on a note of urgency as he said, "Whatever happens tonight, do not run. Don't try to get away. Stay next to me. That is the only place you are totally safe."