{I Can Only Be.Me}

Yes, passwords are off. Here’s Number One.

“This is my room,” Christmas said, opening the last door on the right. It was dark like all the others, but brighter because of the mirrored wall that intensified the dull blue glow of the zebra skinned rug and suede sofa under the black-lights. An invisible stereo filled the room with soft trance and on a small glass end table was an ashtray, a black egg timer and a small bottle of baby oil.

She tiptoed in her platforms over to the open closet in the corner. A dozen white towels were stacked on each shelf, folded uniformly. Beside them were a few plastic hangers. “So this is how it goes,” she began. “When you bring them in, you come over and you get a towel.” She picked one up and shook it out, walking over to the couch and laying it smoothly over the middle cushion. “You tell them to make themselves comfortable and that there are hangers in the closet if they need them. You do not tell them to take their clothes off. If they ask you if they can, just say again to make themselves comfortable. If they ask you, they’re probably a cop. But after you do all that then you leave.“

“Is this illegal?” I blurted out.

“Hell yeah it is.” she answered.

She walked back into the hall and towards the dressing rooms. Pushing past the curtain she led me to the large book on the counter. “Make a page for yourself for that shift, with the date, your name and the time you started working at the top. In the first column put the time the session started, in the second the session length they paid for. After it’s over you’ll write down the total tip amount, and the time they left.“

She sat down on the chaise in front of one of the vanities and lit a cigarette. “Now everyone does it different, so it’s up to you but this is just how I do it. Say they pay for 20 minutes right? Well it’s $40 for just beating them off. If they want my top off, it’s an extra $40. If they want me naked it’s an extra Ben. You could probably charge more if you wanted because your titties are so big, but it’s on you. After you take off whatever you’re going to take off, you set the timer and you give ‘em a lap dance,.For however long you want or they want you to before you finish them off. There’s baby oil in each room, but I have some motion lotion too because it’s easier to clean off later. I’ve never had a guy last the full time so if they pay for an hour, don’t worry about it, they’re probably just wasting their money.“

I took it all in and tried to ignore how hard and fast my heart was pounding in my chest. The other girls introduced themselves; some of them were sweet, others weren’t. There was Lola, a thin but shapely Mexican girl with long brown hair that skimmed the backs of her thighs and Jezebel who wore a jet black lace front wig and fake lashes worthy of a drag queen. They were welcoming of me, telling me not to be nervous, that it was easy. Angel was as thin as a rail, I mean thinner than your average crack head, with 10 layers of makeup caked over her obviously bad skin. Kitten was blonde with fake tits and a tattoo of a celestial sun around her navel. They weren’t very friendly and barely looked at me when Christmas introduced me.

I put on the undies set I’d chosen and Christmas did my hair as Jezebel worked on my makeup. They pondered stage names for me, as I had no idea. After Jezebel asked me if I was Puerto Rican [the 3rd person that day], Christmas decided I should be called ‘Remy’, like the Puerto Rican rum.

We waited for the bell to ring. We played a dozen games of pool. We watched Blow. Ordered a pizza. I asked if it was always like this. “Sometimes,” Lola answered, impressively doing full  lunges in her clear 6″ heels in front of the mirror. “And sometimes it’ll be so busy that every girl has a guy and the bell will still be ringing. It’s Saturday, so they’ll be coming in droves later on tonight.”

It was almost 10pm before the bell rang. I walked to the other side of the building, as far away from the window as I could get, as if the customer might have x-ray vision and be able to see me through the wall. A few minutes later, all the girls except Christmas walked back in. She had the session.

Lola and Jezebel sat down with me, and when Christmas came in she was all smiles. He was a regular customer of hers, and always good for a few hundred. She asked if I wanted to sit in. I shook my head vehemently. No way. She disappeared off to do her work and not soon after we heard a host of male voices coming from the lobby, and then the bell rang.

The remaining four girls walked out and after a brief discussion Jezebel poked her head in.

“Hey! There are 5 Marines out here, but they’re going to leave if they can’t all get girls. Can you do it?”

I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t really asking. I was going to cost all of them money if I pussied out, so I couldn’t. I answered yes and she stood back holding the curtain open for me. I threw my self out there, afraid that if I gave myself time to hesitate I not only would, but I’d run the fuck out of that building, in my underwear, and never look back.

Standing across the window were the Marines, young, tan, strong; all short with buzz cut blonde hair. They chose their girls. The first chose Lola. The second chose me. I couldn’t tell you who the others chose, in what order, because all I could hear was ‘her’ and all I could see was his finger pointing at me. My heart was hurting my sternum from banging against it with such intensity. I felt light headed: not afraid, but incredibly nervous.

The next bit was a blur. He paid for 40 minutes, and Lola showed me which room to take him to. I did. He was shy, and friendly and fucking hot. He was my own ideal of perfection, except a bit shorter than I liked: thin but muscled with black brown hair and green eyes framed by the thickest, longest, curled lashes I’d ever seen. I laid out the towel and said the memorized drivel as best I could. Lola helped me fill out the books properly and I went back into the room for my very first session.

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