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.

The flashlight guy came near our area; I tensed and pulled my hand
back to her hip, but he merely walked past our space ignoring us. The
music changed again, and perhaps feeling my change of mood Maria said,
“Dance?” I was grateful for the break, and stood first to offer her my
hand. We went out onto the floor to the sounds of Sinatra, close
dancing with my one hand cupping her bottom and my other between her
shoulderblades. Sometimes I led, and sometimes she led. When the music
changed she excused herself to go to the ladies room, and I went back
to our area, pausing to pull a couple of twenties out of my wallet and
transfer them to my shirt pocket.

When Maria came back, she sidled up close to me on the couch and
rested her hand lightly above my knee. I slid my right hand behind her
to cup the swell of her bottom and rested my head on her shoulder,
enjoying the view. After a little bit, she squeezed my leg and
commented, “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.” I let her know,
with a bit of embarrassment, that this was my first time here and I was
a little bit unclear as to the way things were done. “For example,” I
explained, “I know when we clock out that I pay the hostess for our
time, but am I supposed to do the other tip there as well? It just
seems a little… I don’t know… cold.”

She nibbled at her lower lip, looked at me, and then smiled.
“Well, if you’re uncomfortable with that, you could take care of it any
time before you leave,” she said, and pointed to her purse on the
table. I pulled the two bills out of my shirt pocket and slid them
into her purse. “Like that?” I asked, also smiling now. Maria nodded,
and leaned closer to me. “I think you catch on fast,” she said. With
her leaning forward, her bottom was lifted a bit off the seat so I slid
my hand underneath and she quickly sat down, trapping my hand there. I
wiggled my fingers, feeling the curve of her warm bottom through her
thin skirt.

Her fingers went back up the inside of my leg, stopping when they
bumped up against my balls. She traced the outline of my now-evident
erection with a single finger, teasing my legs apart. I wiggled my
fingers up between her thighs in response, and suddenly realized that
matters were proceeding way too quickly. I covered her hand with mine
and started “Uh, Maria…” but about that time she rubbed her thumb
over the zipper and my cock erupted under her gentle urging. “Don’t
worry, chico, just enjoy,” she said, and slid her fingers down to
cradle my testicles until the spasms stopped. I closed my eyes and
just went with the flow. When my body was quiet, Maria kissed me on
the cheek, gave my crotch a gentle squeeze and said “You’re sweet. I
like that.” I opened my eyes to see her face next to mine, and moved
my lips to hers. She gave me an unforced, natural, lingering kiss that
left me dizzy.

Just then my pager went off; I had it on vibrate and it was
between our hips, so we both got a quick unexpected thrill. I checked
the number – it was my afternoon client – and slid my hand out from
under Maria’s bottom to give her a quick hug. She got her purse and I
got up slowly, glad that I was wearing dark slacks. I checked out at
the front desk, giving the hostess my coupon and $32 for just under an
hour and a half. It hadn’t seemed that long. I looked around for
Maria to say goodbye, but she was nowhere in sight. When I looked
back, the hostess had a knowing look on her face. “Maria work the
afternoon shift – see you soon okay?”

I called my client from a pay phone down the block. He needed
some code revised, but I felt the sticky mess in my pants and told him
he’d have to wait until tomorrow because other matters had come up.
Come up and gone down, I thought, and made a couple of mental notes –
one, to go by the drugstore for some condoms, and two, to see what I
could do about finishing my work early…