Ops

One of my friends had invited her regular in. They were sitting in a VIP booth under the Skybox. I didn’t pay him much attention because she’s my friend, and I didn’t want to leech her paycheck, but I noticed he was glancing my way every now and then. He’s light skin with short tight curls and a stubble beard. I couldn’t really see what he was wearing from my vantage point on the small stage, but he didn’t appear to be dressed very well. He wore a ribbed tank top and some and sweatpants. I went about my night ignoring him until a few hours before close. It had been a long, slow evening full of “looky loo’s” as the DJ has taken to calling those patrons who enjoy the show and mistake it as free. I was one of only a handful of girls working for the first few hours of my shift, and as I result I got called up to dance on stage more than six times within the first two hours. I used the time to practice a bit for my upcoming pole competition, but afterwards I was thoroughly bruised and tired. I needed to take a break. I leaned against the partition wall that held the VIP booth where the light skin man was slumped into, chatting with a white girl with a dark brown Kylie Jenner bob. He popped his head up and looked at me.

Him: Hey, what’s your name?

Me: Selena. What about you?

Him: I’m Jaden. Wait, tell me your name again?

Me: I’m Selena, like Selena Gomez.

The white girl with the bob came over to stand beside me.

Him: Do you two know each other?

Her: We don’t. I’m Alex.

She leaned in to whisper in my ear.

Her: He wants to buy a two girl dance with us. I’m trying to convince him to get a half-hour.

She turned back to look at him.

Her: She’s so cute, isn’t she?

Him: She is.

Then to me.

Her: You have perfect breasts, by the way.

Me: Thank you. Your butt is perfect.

Her: Thanks girl!

To him.

Her: You should get the half hour with the both of us. The room is a lot nicer and we’ll have enough space for all of us. The Skybox rooms are nice but kinda cramped. We can have more fun in the half hour suite and it’s only about a hundred more per girl. So, are you ready?

He began gathering his few things, to my surprise. I was almost concerned because he was dressed so modestly. I thought maybe he couldn’t afford it, and was planning on putting our dance on credit, or maybe he hadn’t understood the prices and we were in for confusion at the register. I followed, nevertheless, just to see where this would go. When we got to the checkout line, Alex was chatting with me happily.

Her: How long have you been dancing?

Me: A year and a half about. What about you?

Her: I’ve been dancing a little under a year now. I started when I was eighteen but I’m nineteen now.

Me: Wow, you’re so young.

Her: I’m not that young. How old are you?

Me: Oh, I’m an old girl. I’m twenty-six.

Her: Wow! I would have guessed you were my age! You look so young. Have you danced at many clubs?

Me: I’ve danced at a few around LA. Have you danced anywhere else?

Her: I’ve danced at a few places. I work at Sam’s sometimes. After Dark. I’ll probably go there later tonight.

Me: I worked at Sam’s for a second, Hofbrau not After Dark, but I didn’t do well there because I don’t have a big butt.

Her: You have a great butt! But I know what you mean. I got injections once. I want to get more but it’s expensive. Cost a bitch thirteen racks just for one.

Me: Did you notice a difference after one?

Her: Yeah.

Me: Honestly your butt is perfect already. I don’t think you need to add anything.

Her: You’re so sweet!

Jaden had pulled out his credit card and was engaged in a serious conversation with the bartender and one of the floaters. Alex leaned over to whisper to me.

Her: I don’t know if he’s got it like that, but I guess we’ll see.

She leaned into their conversation and asked what was going on. Meanwhile I glanced around the club, considering who I might talk to if this didn’t pan out. The floater addressed me.

Floater: He’s going to do a set with you first, then one with her.

I looked guiltily at Alex who was pursing her lips.

Her: It’s okay, girl, don’t worry about me.

Me: I feel bad.

Her: Get your dance, you deserve it.

I’ve been in that spot, pulled aside for a two girl dance only to be left behind because I was the second choice. The feeling was compounded by the knowledge she had put in hours working him, and all I’d done was walk up at the right moment. Still, when they handed me the receipt for $175 plus a small $40 tip, I wasn’t about to complain. I led him to my favorite half-hour booth, one I’d gradually claimed by moving in one of the little side tables. There was what appeared to be a computer speaker overhead connected to the club sound system. The speaker was turned all the way up, to the point the sound was tinny and crackled. I stepped onto the side table and tried to turn the volume nob down, but I was too short.

Me: Could you turn it down for me? I can’t reach.

Jaden stepped onto the table and managed to turn the volume to a reasonable pitch.

Him: Better?

Me: You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.

I closed the door and the session started. I sat on his lap to get a better look at him. He had a very warm, open face and smiled jovially at me. We were both nervous. I pet his arms to get used to touching him. My fingers grazed something hard I thought was a bit of plastic stuck to his bicep, but upon closer inspection it was a deep knife cut, recently stitched together. I began to inspect him. He had similar cuts all over his arms. A few appeared to have had enough time to heal, even though the skin was still raised.

Me: Get into a knife fight?

Him: Yeah. It was part of my job.

Me: What do you do?

Him: Special Ops. I work on military projects.

Me: I know what Special Ops is. Y’all run missions that the American people don’t get to know about.

Him: Most people don’t know what I mean when I say that.

Me: You must be kinda amazing.

Him: Thank you. I am specially trained. We run discreet missions, then the rest of the time I have a day job working at an office down the road from here.

Me: At the base in El Segundo?

Him: You know a lot, don’t you? Yes, I work at the base in El Segundo.

Me: But they send you everywhere, don’t they? Special Ops took down Bin Laden, right? Where was the last place they sent you.

Him: Have you heard of a place called

Djibouti?

Me: I have, but not in any smart way. I just know because my cousins and I used to joke about it, like “where’d you find it?” “In Djibouti!”

“Djibouti” is pronounced juh-booty, for those of you unacquainted with my potty humor.

Him: Djibouti is a country in the Horn of Africa. We had a mission to find and bring back Americans out there.

Me: A discreet extraction?

Him: I shouldn’t be telling you about this. Most of it is confidential.

Me: I didn’t even know we had a military presence in Djibouti, let alone enough Americans out there to warrant a Special Opps extraction mission.

Him: Mostly though, I’m at my desk in El Segundo.

Me: You ever do military contracting? Like for a private company?

Him: How do you know about that?

Me: My uncle did some contracting in Iraq after he retired from the military. I think he was transporting money or something. He doesn’t talk about it.

Him: We do some contracting too.

Me: Anyway, let me get to dancing before I talk your ear off.

Him: I don’t mind. I like talking to you.

I danced on him for a while. He kept his hands at his sides until I guided them to neutral zones on my body.

Him: Can I spank you?

Me: Sure.

He gave my little booty the gentlest of angel taps. After a while he started getting soft and I was tired.

Him: What kinds of music do you like?

Me: My taste is kinda... eclectic.

Him: How about this: do you like country?

Me: Not really. I mean, I like old country like Dolly and Hank Williams.

Him: Okay! I see you. But nothing made lately?

Me: New country just sounds like a white supremacy mixtape to me.

He rolled onto his side laughing.

Him: I can’t believe you said that!

Me: What? It’s the truth! What about you? Do you like country?

Him: Have you heard of Tailgate?

Me: Nope.

Him: It’s like Coachella but for country music.

Me: You like country!

Him: I do! I feel like people either like country and death metal or they don’t. Do you like death metal?

Me: Yeah, I’m not super knowledgeable, but I like it.

Him: I like country and death metal. I like the way that country music writes about women as these powerful forces with complicated stories. And I don’t mind listening to a song about a pickup truck.

Me: Or your dog on your porch and crying all night because your woman left you.

Him: Exactly! I think you can listen to country and still bump A Boogie.

Me: I love A Boogie.

It was easy talking to Jaden. The more we talked the less I realized I knew about him, and I was endlessly fascinated. The US government likes to divide up its secrets, and when I’m lucky enough to stumble upon someone who knows something, it affirms that all the espionage thrillers I took for pure fiction, aren’t exaggerating that much.

The floater knocked on our door, signaling our time was up. I’d been enjoying myself, but simultaneously my body was badly bruised from dancing. My knees ached and my hips popped like an elderly woman. I felt twenty years older suddenly.

Him: Thank you. Maybe we can do it again later?

Me: For sure.

But the club was closing. The clock struck 2:45 a.m., fifteen until close. I was turning into a pumpkin. I went to the locker room and sat to stretch my skinny jeans back onto my swollen legs. I felt raw from exhaustion. I meant to say goodbye to Jaden before I left, but he was gone already, off to another half hour room with another girl. I packed up my stuff and requested a walkout. One of the bouncers took me. He ran out in front and covered the license plates of two grey cars.

Him: Which one is your car?! Guess! No peeking at the license plates!

Me: Aw man! You know I’m not good at this game!

I thought for a second one was a Honda and the other was my car, but they looked so similar. I squinted to try and see what was inside the cars. I’m hopeless with telling them apart, and as a result I frequently walk up to other people’s cars. He had witnessed my mistake an embarrassing number of times.

Him: No cheating!

Me: Uh uh! This one— No this one!

I noticed big horizontal scratches on the side of the other car. He dropped his hands and grinned at me.

Him: I had to quiz you because they’re the same cars.

Me: I would have done the same to you. Have a goodnight!

Him: Later, Selena.