“Dude, this place is creepy,” I whispered in Heidi’s ear, latching onto her arm. We had just been carded by a very large man who was very suspicious since he was convinced I was like twelve. When we finally entered, there was a thick cloud of smoke and flashing lights that were making me a little dizzy. On the left there was a bar where girls barely wearing shirts were taking the dollars from large men with their cleavage. In the middle of the room there was a huge stage-like thing going on with three tall silver poles. Wrapped around each pole was a tall, thin, largely busted girl in no or few clothes.
All around were scary, greasy men with little or no hair and leather jackets. Some of them were wearing those gross swishy sweat suit things. I clung closer to Heidi as Dave lead us up to the edge of the stage. D.C. was not out there yet.
“Am I going to have to see her naked?” I suddenly realized.
“No,” Dave leaned over, “She doesn’t get totally naked.”
“That’s a relief,” I laughed, not really sure if it mattered whether or not I saw her naked or not. The point was that she was making herself a sexual object- and that I was taking part in it.
The music changed to a hair band song from the 80s, and the girls on the stage switched. D.C. emerged from the smoky pink light wearing a black leather nightie looking thing with leather straps that twisted up and down her arms. Her boots were killer. They were black leather and reached up over her knees. They had these silver bondage rings on them. They were so cool. Slutty, yes, but awesome.
She winked in our direction as she took her place at the pole in front of us. It was kind of disturbing to see her gyrating and humping the pole… after all, she was a friend of mine, and I never thought I’d be seeing her like that. I began to feel rather nauseous as the old men around me hooted at D.C. I could feel the pizza rising in my throat as they reached out to stick dollar bills in the straps of her clothes.
I excuse myself to the ladies’ room that had a strange magenta ambience. As I leaned over the toilet, I thought of how many other people had used this toilet for vomiting… anorexic dancers… drunk lesbians… most likely not many other underage friends concerned for friends. When I came back outside, D.C. was sitting with Dave and Heidi.
“Hey there,” she smiled.
“Shouldn’t you be like… working?” I asked, taking some gum from my pocket.
“I am,” she giggled, “I’m seeing if anyone here is interested in a lap dance.”
“Jesus, you give lap dances, too?!”
“It comes with the territory,” she shrugged.
“Dave,” I slapped his arm, “Buy a lap dance.”
“What?!”
“Then she won’t have to give one to these old guys,” I explained.
“Are you crazy, Tayler?” he asked.
“Do it!” I shoved him. Everyone at the table looked at me as if I were crazy. I guess it did seem a little strange, me shoving my boyfriend on another girl.
“I’m not going to ask for a lap dance,” Dave laughed.
“I’ll pay for it then.”
“Dude, no.”
“Wouldn’t you rather get a lap dance then see her give one to one of them?”
“It’s an occupational hazard,” D.C. shrugged, leaving our table so that she could get business elsewhere.
“What the hell, Tayler?” Dave leaned in close.
“I don’t like this place, Dave.”
“Let’s leave then,” he said, a little freaked by my weirdness.
“I thought I promised to help her or something.”
“She was probably going to ask you to dance. But I think… I think we should just leave,” he took me by the arm. Heidi agreed. We waved to D.C. and Dave led me out like I was a child.
The ride home was largely silent. I think I disturbed Dave or something, because he kept looking over at me like he was checking on me or something. When we arrived at our house, I invited Dave in. He came up to my room with me.
“I thought it was really cool at first,” I explained, “but then I saw how degrading and dirty it really was.”
“But D.C. doesn’t find it dirty or degrading,” Dave insisted, “To her, it’s just a job.”
“But she can’t enjoy being pawed at by those old guys!”
“I think she does,” Dave said quietly.
“Huh?”
“I think that D.C. has a lot of problems and very little love. I think a big reason she works there is because she feels big and important and adored.”
I spent almost every spare minute with D.C. after that. Every day she came over, and we watched TV or listened to music or cooked together. She and I went to Dave’s house to chill, and we went to Oscar’s often to listen to the band practice. She taught me how to “work” the audience to make them want me so they wouldn’t notice when I messed up. I came early to play practices and stayed late. We talked about character development and the set and scenery of the play. I dyed her roots blue to match the rest of her hair. We went shopping for new tongue rings for me and lip rings for her. She picked out clothes for me to wear to sing with the band, and I searched the want ads every day to find her a better job. It became a determination of mine to prove to her that she was worthwhile and good and needed and necessary.
