Part 1: Bulging Eyed Bert and Geriatric Jerry

I was dancing on the small stage for a group of young black men when a white man in a white and blue gridded button down shirt came over and made it rain. I’d been eyeing him and his friend, another neatly dressed white man with gray hair, wondering if they would make my night, and the rain was the sign I’d been looking for. I went over to the rain man and sat in his lap. He had mousy brown hair and a round face with bulging eyes that stared at me unblinkingly as he smiled with his mouth slightly ajar. His friend leaned in and was staring at me with a similar intensity, beaming from ear to crinkly ear.

Man 1: Wow. Right?

Man 2: Wow.

Man 1: She’s stunning, isn’t she? Don’t you think, Jerry?

Jerry: Yes. She is something.

She has a name, I thought to myself, as I grinned tightly and allowed the two men to talk around me. I addressed the white man whose lap I’d occupied.

Me: Sorry, what’s your name?

Man 1: I’m Bert. This is Jerry.

Me: Nice to meet you, Bert and Jerry.

Bert: She must think we’re crazy, staring at her this long, but I just can’t get enough.

Jerry nodded in agreement.

Bert: Do you know how sexy you are?

Me: Thank you.

Bert: No really. You must know how sexy you are. I mean, how could you not?

Me: I know.

I laughed politely, because of course I know, even if I don’t feel that way internally.

Bert: Do you like drinking expensive wines?

Me: I do. Well, I generally enjoy drinking wine.

Bert: Why don’t we get out of here and go drink expensive wines together at his house. You know where Manhattan Beach is?

Me: I do.

Bert: He lives in a fifty-million dollar home on the beach. We could hang out, drink some wine, have some fun. I’ll buy out the rest of your night.

I bit my lip, considering it.

Bert: I can see you’re thinking about it. What’s going on? Let me guess, you’re thinking, “I don’t know if I believe this guy. What if he’s crazy?”

Me: Yeah, and—

Bert: “And I don’t do this that often, so I don’t know.”

Me: That too. I literally just met you and I know no details of your life.

Bert: What do you want to know?

Me: Tell me a bit about your life.

Bert: I live in San Francisco. I decided to open a business in 2008. I know, the worst possible time. But I built a business and I was lucky. I sold it. What else?

Me: A Silicon business?

Him: Yes. I work in tech consulting.

Me: You’re married?

I glanced down at a wedding band on his left hand.

Him: Yep. I’m married and we have triplets.

Me: Did you use in vitro fertilization?

Him: Yes, we did.

Me: How old are the triplets?

Him: They’re twelve.

Me: Wow, that’s a busy age.

Him: It is. What else?

I brushed his hair behind his ear and felt something plastic.

Me: You have a hearing aid?

Him: I’m actually deaf.

Me: Wow, you don’t speak like you’re deaf. I only say that because one of my sisters is deaf.

Him: I wasn’t born deaf. I got into a bad hockey accident one day when I was younger and suddenly I was deaf.

Me: Wow, that must have been so shocking.

Him: It was, but I’m used to it now. You don’t have to yell for me to hear.

I realized I’d been leaning in toward his hearing aid and projecting. I blushed apologetically.

Me: Sorry.

Him: It’s fine. So, what do you think?

Me: It’s just, I don’t know you. It’s a big risk for me to go out there. You’re right, I don’t do many outcalls. What if I show up and you don’t pay me? What if we agree on a thousand dollars and I show up and you say, “Well, I only have $200 now.”

Him: You don’t want to get burned, and neither do I. Trust me, this isn’t what I normally do. I haven’t been to a strip club in five years. I’m a family man. What can I do to make you feel comfortable?

Me: Buy a dance with me, and then I’ll consider it.

Him: How about I just hand you the money for the dance right now? What do you want to net in the next hour?

Me: I’d like to net three-hundred in the next hour.

Him: And how much are dances?

I rattled off the dance prices.

Him: So, would you like to dance for me or would you rather I just hand you the money right now for you to spend the next hour with me?

Me: Well... I’d rather not split the money with the club, to be honest... I’d rather you just hand it to me.

Him: Okay, it’s a deal. But you can’t go running off once I hand it to you.

Me: I promise I won’t. I want us both to be happy.

Bert went over to the ATM and withdrew the money, then handed me three hundred dollars in twenties. I counted it to make sure, then slid the little wad into my purse. He didn’t blink. It was as if he was handing me a fiver.

Bert: Are you comfortable yet?

Me: I am. Thanks.

Bert: Good. So, what else?

Me: How is it having triplets?

Bert: She always wanted kids. They’re great, I love them. Normally I’m just with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife and my family. But she’s white, and blonde, and you’re—

Me: The opposite.

Bert: And so sexy.

His blue eyes leered at me. It’s funny when white men say this kind of thing. They marry some white woman because of course, but then want something utterly different for their fantasies. Bert is a handful, I can already tell. I wonder how his wife handles him on the daily.

Him: Do you have any friends around here?

Me: I do.

I looked around the room, but my closest friends were out of sight.

Me: But I think they’re off dancing.

Jerry: Do you know a black girl named Jennifer?

Me: I don’t know any brown girls named Jennifer.

Jerry: She was black.

Me: I don’t know any black women named Jennifer. Do you like black women, because I think my friend Simone is here somewhere?

At that moment I couldn’t find any of my usual friends about. It seemed like I was making it up.

Bert: Do you have any siblings?

Me: I have a sister.

Bert: Does she dance here too?

Me: No, she dances at a different club.

Bert: Is she as adorable as you?

Me: Yeah, definitely.

Bert: Do you have a picture? She should come with us too.

Me: I’ll ask her to send one.

I opened my phone to message Sofia, who was at home, likely in bed after a long day at work. She sent me some pictures she took of herself in the locker room at her club. I showed them to Bert and Jerry.

Bert: She should smile more.

Men and their constant demand for smiles. The irony was, the first photo she had sent was one of her smiling, but I wasn’t about to fight about it.

Bert: Do you think she would want to come?

Me: Would you compensate her as well?

Him: Of course.

Me: Can I have the address?

They provided the address. It was the kind of address that almost doesn’t seem real, with no “street” or “avenue” to signal the ending. I took down their names and phone numbers.

Him: How much?

Me: One thousand for each of us when we walk through the door, or else we go.

Him: How about five hundred when you walk in and then five hundred after the first hour?

Me: Will you be paying cash or cash app?

Him: Cash, of course.

Me: But how will you get it? Most ATM’s are closed now.

Him: Don’t worry, we have lots of cash at home.

The DJ called me to the stage for my dance. I excused myself and took a moment to think while I was dancing. The club had emptied since our conversation began. I’d made my goal for the night, and then some. I was interested in seeing Jerry’s house, but I’m also a Murderino constantly considering the multitude of ways women are abducted and murdered. While I was pondering this, Bert had come up to the stage and he began tipping me in twenties. He laid out another hundred for me as I came up beside the rail of the stage to dance on him. He gripped me tightly, picking me up, which was unnerving, but not something I haven’t dealt with before. I allows it, but gracefully lowered myself back onto the floor. I decided I would go with them. I gathered my tips and walked back out to them.

Me: Okay. I’ll do it.

Bet: Are you certain?

Me: Yes. You want me to bring my sister?

Bert: Of course! But you two can’t go off and ignore us. No getting bashful because you’re with your sister. Can you agree to that?

Me: Of course.

Him: I want you to be sexy with me, like you were just now on stage. No getting shy once we leave.

Me: I’m a professional. Don’t worry.