TWELVE

It sucks that we’re not allowed to play cards, read magazines, or otherwise divert ourselves from how bored we all are when there are no customers in the club. We’re supposed to be ready for the customer the moment he walks through the door. It’s stupid. Even these guys must know that we’re not lined up against the wall like paper dolls, waiting to come to life when one of them speaks to us.

I take off my watch. Its hands haven’t moved since the last time I looked. All the small talk died a long time ago. The girls don’t have much to say to each other. Each one of us has been onstage at least twice, dancing for no one. I’m hungry as hell, but I don’t even have the money to send the bus boy to McDonald’s.

Then all of a sudden, a bunch of guys trickle into the club within minutes of each other. They must have come in from the topless club next door. This happens sometimes. They go over there first, where they can drink real beer and buy air dances. Eventually they get tipsy and horny and decide that they need to see under the thongs. So they show up in here. I just hope they still have money left over.

The energy on the floor changes almost immediately. Brittany, Kaia and Liz get their marks into the VIP in no time flat. Alannah is up onstage, shaking her ass with everything she’s got, and several guys gather around the stage to tip her. Clarissa is sliding all over some guy’s lap. Tim, still sitting at the bar, looks relieved. Everybody’s smiling.

I, on the other hand, am still having a miserable time. I’ve approached every guy in the club, and all of them have turned me down. Some of them were shaking their heads at me before I even got near them. Do I have leprosy or something?

Each new rejection is coupled with the knowledge that I’m the only dancer not making money right now. Each one puts a chink in my armor. Tim just gave me the evil eye a second ago, as if it’s my fault these guys aren’t into me.

I slink back down to the dressing room, where I gulp some expensive, premium vodka out of the soda bottle I brought from home. Back on the floor, I slip into the tiny crevice of a DJ booth.

Cody is working tonight. He’s a young, skinny club kid with long blond hair and lots of piercings. I’ve always been attracted to him. He takes off his headphones.

“Tim told me to open the side stage,” he announces to me. “I’m gonna have to put you up there next unless you can get a lap dance before this set ends.”

“Come on, Cody… don’t you love me anymore?” I whine. “There’s no one at the bar to tip me on side stage. Does Tim want me to dance for him?”

“Maybe,” Cody grins.

“Skip me,” I demand.

“Can’t.”

“Please? I’m tired and I’m not making any money. Come on. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Really.”

I slide my g-string to the side.

“Like I don’t see enough of that every night.”

I start to softly lick his neck. His arms move around me. Then he slides one hand down over my crotch.

“Damn, girl, you’re wet!” he whispers.

I’m almost as surprised as he is.

He slips a finger into me and starts working it, making me breathe faster. My lips push out a small moan. This is much more fun than sitting in the corner.

“Maybe I can skip you,” he says. He puts my hand on his cock, over his pants. He’s hard.

“I need more girls!” I hear Tim saying at the bar.

“Shit!” Cody whispers. “You’re gonna get me fired.”

I give him a withering look. Hypocrite.

He pulls his finger out of me. “Come back later, okay? I’ll skip you this set. Give you the chance to make some money.”

I nod, and leave the booth. I notice that Cody is sucking on his finger as I’m leaving. He smiles at me again. I turn around and bump right into Tim’s big belly.

“There you are. I’ve got a bottle for you,” Tim says to me. “Tina!” he yells across the room. “I found you one!”

Tina approaches us and grabs my hand, leading me straight back toward the VIP. “This is an easy one,” she mutters. “Katie’s already in there. There’s two guys. They wanted to buy one more girl.”

I see Katie sitting in the cubicle between two young suits with her top off. “I want another one, Tina,” she barks, uncharacteristically. Tina collects Katie’s empty mug.

“You got it,” she says. “Anybody else for a drink?”

“Cranberry,” I say.

“You guys don’t serve alcohol, right? That’s just a plain cranberry juice?” asks one of the guys.

“Well…” Tina lowers her voice. “In here it’s a little different. I can put vodka in whatever you order.”

“How about a Jack and Coke?” he asks.

“I’m sorry. All I have behind the bar is vodka.”

“Do you have tonic?”

“We do.”

“I’ll take a vodka-tonic.”

“I’ll have a vodka-cranberry,” his friend pipes up. Tina nods and leaves. Katie jumps possessively onto Cranberry Guy’s lap. Tonic looks at me.

“Hi, guys,” I say.

“You’re still dressed,” says Tonic.

“Not for long,” I beam. I pull my dress down around my waist.

I lean into Tonic to begin dancing, but he says, “That’s okay, honey. You don’t need to work that hard. We just came to chill with some pretty girls and have a good time.” He motions to his lap. “Sit with me.”

I sit, fumbling to pull my dress back on.

“You can leave that just the way it is,” Tonic says. “What’s your name?”

The guys tell me their names and I promptly forget them. I’m caught up watching Katie, who is energetic in a way I’ve never seen her. Her eye makeup is noticeably smeared. She’s also talking a mile a minute, ordering her guy around. “I want some more now,” she says, tugging on his sleeve.

“Let’s wait till the waitress comes back,” suggests Cranberry.

“I’m a waitress,” she announces.

“We know,” Cranberry laughs. “We found you behind the bar, remember?”

“I’m a waitress and a bartender, and you have to pay a lot of money to see me naked!” Katie crows.

“We know that, too,” Tonic says, dryly.

Tina brings the drinks and slips away without a word to any of us. When the boys are sure she’s gone, Cranberry pulls a small foil packet out of the inside pocket of his blazer. Katie reaches for it immediately.

“You’re cool, right, baby doll?” Tonic asks me. “You want some?”

I watch Katie use a fingernail to scoop a tiny pinch of loose white powder out of the foil, hold the fingernail under her nose, and snort deeply.

Strippers have a rep for doing a lot of this stuff. But I think that rep is outdated. It’s based on Wall Street stories from the eighties. These days, the most popular party seems to be Ecstasy or Special K. Don’t get me wrong, C is around and all. It’s just not the belle of the ball anymore.

I only ever tried it once before, myself. I don’t think I even got high. It was a while ago, courtesy of Cherry, the hard-ass nineteen-year-old Yonkers whore who turned me onto stripping in the first place. We sat in her car behind a Taco Bell and bent matchbooks into straws, since neither of us had a lousy dollar bill to our name that we could roll up and use instead. Whatever I was supposed to feel, I didn’t. Cherry eventually let a big, fat silent one go, then announced that most dealers lace their stash with baby laxative. We rolled down the windows and stayed there shivering while the sun came up. I wasn’t impressed.

Cranberry, Tonic and Katie, though, look like they’re having a really good time. Cranberry’s taken his shirt off. Tonic’s loosened his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt. Katie’s making a mess of herself. But she’s animated and smiling.

“Yeah, I’m cool,” I answer Tonic. I take the rolled up dollar bill he offers me.

It’s not a marked difference in perception. I don’t feel cloudy or lazy, the way I do when I smoke weed. In fact, my attention to detail feels sharper. I feel more articulate. More confident. Even though I haven’t said a word.

Tonic starts rambling to no one in particular. He says life is short and he’s goddamned if he’s willing to miss the good stuff. Cranberry raises his glass in agreement.

“You should come join us at my penthouse when you’re done working,” Tonic says to me.

“I don’t do that,” I respond automatically.

“Not even just to party? I’d pay you eight hundred dollars to hang out with me. I’m not interested in sex. Probably couldn’t get it up right now if I tried.” He chuckles.

“Why don’t you pay me the eight hundred dollars right now, and I’ll hang out with you here for the rest of the night,” I suggest.

“I don’t have it on me.”

“There’s an ATM around the corner.”

“Yeah, but your club closes in what, an hour? Besides, I’d rather give all the money to you.”

It’s a standard line. I usually scoff accordingly. But I haven’t made a lot of money this week. Even after tonight’s champagne room excursion, I’ll be lucky if I clear a hundred and fifty bucks. I’ve never once considered seeing any of these guys outside of the club. But maybe I’m the only one. Maybe these girls who are pulling in a grand a night know something that I don’t.

Tonic tells me an address I’ve never heard. “If you show up, you show up,” he says. “I’ll just pay you for the company. And we’ll do some more blow.”

“I don’t have anything to write with.”

“It’s easy to remember.” He repeats the address.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Tina looks at me disapprovingly while Jose is cashing me out. She accosts me just before I can open the door to the basement.

“You know, the safest thing to do is to keep it in the club,” she says.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I tell her coldly. Stupid fucking madam, she’s just protecting her own interests.

She’s a hypocrite as well – I’ve heard that her dressing room above the club is full of old mattresses. They’re from the seventies, when this building housed a real whorehouse. Red light in the window and all. Guess who was one of the original working girls?

And that fucking coke-whore Katie has some nerve ratting me out!

“You know, I’ve seen many a girl go home with a customer and never return. Later we find out that some guy chopped her up and put her in his refrigerator,” Tina continues.

“Tina, save it. Okay?” I snap, slamming the door behind me.

I’m in a crappy mood now. I wasn’t definitely planning to go look for these guys, but Tina has really infuriated me. My heart is racing with anger. All I can think about is proving her wrong, and thus my mind is made up. Besides, I really want some more coke. I’m surprised at just how much I want it. I throw my street clothes on in record time, and I’m the first girl out of the club. I don’t even bother saying goodnight to anyone.

Gordon sees me walk out the door. He waves to me. I nod and climb into the backseat. I’m about to go make eight hundred bucks! So I can afford Gordon.

“I’m not going straight home,” I mutter tentatively.

Gordon turns around and looks at me.

“Ere rr ou kgoink?” his voice box hums. He sounds like he’s talking through an electric razor.

“Can you help me find an address I’ve never been to before?”

Gordon nods.

“Please don’t tell anyone?”

“Most girls… ask frr this,” he hisses and clicks with his finger on the hole in his throat. “Ttt’s… okay.”

I trust Gordon, simply because he’s made it clear to all of us that not only can he be bought – it’s his job to be bought. I wonder how many of my co-workers he’s delivered to tricks after the shift’s end. He won’t say a word about me to anyone. To him, this is normal.

We drive all over the area looking for the address. That number doesn’t exist on this street. Finally I give up, and announce that I want to quit looking for it. Gordon swivels around to look at me.

“’re ‘ou surr?” he hisses and clicks.

“It’s okay, Gordon. We tried, right?” I smile. Because it isn’t Gordon’s fault. “Just take me home, I guess.”

Boy, do I feel stupid right now. There’s a guy somewhere on this block with a limp dick and eight hundred dollars sitting on his nightstand, and I’ve missed the boat. Did I memorize the address wrong, or did the john bring me out on a wild goose chase for his own amusement? I’m never going to know.

When we get back to Queens, I hand Gordon forty dollars. It’s really tough to part with. I don’t even have a hundred left.

“Nxt…t..ime,” he says, and I nod.

My knees ache as I climb the stairs. The ascent seems to last forever. Finally I manage to haul my tired ass up the three stories, unlock my front door and drop my bag. I fall into bed, still fully clothed.

I’m really confused about what I almost did. I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or thankful that I never made it to Tonic’s apartment.

I was nervous about the idea to begin with. I didn’t know who else would be there, or what they’d really have done to me. In that sense, I am relieved.

But I feel like I’ve just lost eight hundred dollars that was supposed to be mine. A part of me believed that the guy would have paid that much money just to hang out and do coke with me. That part of me thinks I’m a fucking idiot for not writing down a simple address.

I still don’t know if I think any of this is even okay. Lately I can feel my inner boundaries being stretched every day, both inside and outside of the club.

How far will I go, and how much of this lifestyle will I let bleed into who I really am? How much of it has already attached itself to the way I view my life, and therefore, my world?

What might the consequences be on the day that I simply cease to give a fuck?

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