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I was flipping through the alternative paper, and I ran across a coupon for a new place had opened in town, the "VIP Lounge". No cover charge and only $21 an hour before 10pm. I had heard something of these places on the net but I was interested to see how they worked in practice. It was that rarity in my schedule - a day when I finished before 5. I had wrapped up my client at 2:30, so I could head home for a much-needed nap or go by the home office and catch up on some administrative paperwork. I decided to take the third option, and checked the address in the coupon.
The place didn't look like much - a ramshackle wooden building at the end of a dying shopping center. When I went inside the doors, I was greeted by cool air conditioning, Barry White on the sound system, and a moderately attractive Chinese woman to welcome me. "What your name?" she asked in accented English. I told her I was called Danny. "Have you been here before?" When I shook my head, she directed me to a seat by the bar and took the seat next to me, her skirt rising to show a very pretty expanse of leg.
"This is for business men to spend time with nice ladies," she began. "Dance, talk, whatever. Two drink minimum. The house gets $30 an hour and you tip the lady for her time, $20 to $40 an hour." She pointed to some signs on the wall, warning of dire consequences for anyone who requested sexual activity. "No funny business, you understand?" I nodded my agreement. "Fine, I show you the girls and you tell me which one you like. Follow me."
I got off the bar seat and followed her into a side room, where a half dozen women were reading, watching TV, talking on cell phones, buffing their nails. None of them were standouts, although I did like the looks of the busty redhead on the phone. But when I indicated her, the hostess just said "Well, she busy right now. You like one of the others?" I took a second look around and settled on a hippy Latina in a stretch velvet dress. The hostess called her over and introduced us, "Danny, this is Maria. Maria, Danny would like to spend time with you." I thought the hostess patted Maria on the butt as she left, but the light was dim and it was probably my eyes playing tricks on me.
Maria's hand was cool and dry as she led me into the back part of the building, which was lit by a couple of spots and a glitter ball, and divided into partitions by standing metal poles with streamers hung from them. There were small areas with couches and tables, and large spaces with an open floor for dancing. The stereo was playing "Disco Lady"; I had to chuckle at that. We settled in one of the small areas, and by the time I got the hang of sitting on the couch without sinking into it, the hostess arrived asking about our drinks. I asked if Maria wanted anything, and when she demurred I just ordered two bottles of water.
Maria and I chatted for a bit while we waited for the drinks to arrive. We talked about my job, her pets, the lousy weather, the guy carrying a flashlight who was making his rounds. "They say he's security, but I think he's just hoping to see something exciting," she confided slyly. The couch sagged slightly in the middle, and Maria's left leg was pressed up against my right, not unpleasantly. Eventually the hostess arrived and I leaned forward enough to slide my wallet out of my back pocket, find a five and a one, and give it to her. After she left, the music changed and Maria asked if I wanted to dance. Sure thing, I said, and followed her onto the dance floor. It was just the two of us and some neo-swing number, and it didn't take long for us to find each other's rhythms. I liked the way my hand fit in the small of her back, and she didn't pull away when I occasionally moved my palm lower down.
When the music ended, the next number was something from Rod Stewart's glam phase; Maria saw the look on my face and headed for our couch without asking. I slid an arm around her waist in a half-hug, half-caress. She rested her hand on my knee, then drew a short line with her nails up along my inseam. "So, Danny, why me?" she asked, breathing the question into my ear. "What is it you like about Chicanas?" The way she was brushing her fingertips along the inside of my right leg was making it difficult to focus.
"It's mostly the way they move," I finally allowed, "they move with their whole body, not stiffly like someone trained to be an office drone." I spread the fingers of my right hand and stroked her belly as I continued. "And I liked the way you smiled when I saw you." "Mmmm," was all she said, but I could feel her relax back into my arm, and the strap on her near shoulder slid off giving me a nice look at her breasts. Her left hand moved a little higher on my leg.
