Blue Stripes

"Oh, thank God," Harold said, glancing at his phone. "Blue got a job."

Lia looked over her book at him, raised an eyebrow and muted the TV. "No shit? What's she doing?"

"Candy striping, I guess. County line hospital. She sent the address." He squinted at the text. "It just says striping," he mumbled to himself. Louder to his wife, he said, "She's working tonight, won't be home until late. Says she'll get an Uber."

"Well, good for her. What's the pay like?"

Harold shrugged. "She didn't say. She also said she was putting her phone in her locker..." He squinted again. "Damn. Girl needs to learn how to spell. L-O-K-K-E-R."

"That ship sailed a while back. She did well enough to graduate high school, I guess that's all we can hope for." Lia took her feet off the couch, sat up and scratched her neck. Her mother wasn't kidding, ever since she was little they'd known their girl wouldn't be bringing home any scholastic achievements. She sure was pretty, though.

Pretty or not though, the grownups in the house were itching a bit for her to move out on her own. Blue had turned twenty this last month, a year and change since her high school graduation, after getting held back in second grade. She'd been mostly holed up in her room, except for the rare occasions her friends decided to show up in real life. She led a very popular social life, all of it online. And she'd shown no interest whatsoever in becoming employed, at least not until they'd had a chat with her two weeks ago.

She'd nodded, blankly, at them when they'd suggested that she might be happier with her own place, and that would probably require that fabled thing she may have heard about called a 'job.' Nodded, smiled, and then went right back into her room when Jaycee rang her up on the insta. But, it looked like maybe their advice had sunk in.

Lia undid the messy knot her hair was in, and let her honey golden locks loose. She whipped her head around, and somehow, her hair settled in a perfectly styled manner around her shoulders. "Hey. Betcha she didn't pack a lunch, or anything. Wanna go out and buy her one? In celebration?"

"You don't believe her." Harold put the phone down. Lia rolled her eyes.

"It's not that. Well, mostly not that. But you know how she is. Maybe she thinks it's a real job with a paycheck and everything, but isn't candy striping, like, volunteer work?" She shrugged. "I just wanna make sure she's okay. And, y'know, fed for the night."

Harold sighed, and stood up from the easy chair. "Guess I'd better get dressed then." He gestured at his sweatpants and Tshirt ensemble. He knew better than to argue with Lia, she'd already put her hair down, that meant she'd made a decision.

Half an hour later, they made a turn onto an old, two lane highway out in the sticks somewhere. Harold had done so at his phone's command, they'd never been out this side of town before.

"A half a mile to your destination, on the left." The polite robot explained from Harold's lap.

"There's a hospital out here?" Lia mused. "I'd have never guessed."

"Assuming our dear daughter typed it out correctly," Harold said. "Maybe we shoulda got some fast food or something before we drove out here."

"Or coffee. Betcha she'd appreciate some coffee."

Harold murmured his assent. The sun was low on the horizon, and Blue had said she'd be out past midnight... A long night ahead of her. Well, on the first day on the job, she'd probably be too busy for much of a coffee break.

They pulled into a gravel parking lot, a few cars and trucks scattered about randomly. More trucks than cars. The building in front of them was single story, wood sided, and wide. There was a concrete porch skirting it, the flat roof extending its reach by a few feet to make a kind of porch in front. Centered above the two doors to this windowless building was a neon sign. "County Line Hot-Spot." A shapely caricature of a woman winked at them in pink and blue neon lines.

"This isn't a hospital." Harold was coasting towards the building, gravel popping under his tires.

"It is not." Lia agreed.

"I think it's a strip club."

"You think?" Lia blinked, her eyes forward. "Let me see that text she sent you."

Harold pulled the car next to another one, and stopped. He handed his phone to Lia.

"Dadd, godd news!! (Various emojis.) I gots me a job! I start 2nght. I'm gonna be striping at the county line hospital (Address.) Their reelly nice here and will show me what to do. Do nt' (exact spelling) wait up for me won't be home until past too. I gotta put my phone in a lokker now, so I cant text back. Love u! (More emojis.)"

Lia sighed. "She's astripper.Not astriper. Big difference, Harold."

"How the heck was I supposed to know that?"

She handed his phone back. "I don't know. Hotspot became hospital, striping became stripping. There's so many errors in that text I can't make head or tail of what was autocorrected and what was her actual intent without context. Like... Why did she send you three camels and a purple smiley face? The girl's an enigma."

"And, apparently, an adult entertainer now." His forehead came to rest on the steering wheel. He could hear Lia grinding her teeth next to him.

A long silence ensued. Harold became aware of the extra large gentleman outside of the front door eyeing them. The guy was six foot seven, easy, and had arms that looked like jostling hams crossed in front of him, under a dark beard. Bouncer, probably.

Lia was the one who spoke first. "Well. Nothing wrong with the sex industry, per se."

"Right. Just wish it wasn't my daughter."

"Well, of course. But I wonder if she knows what she's getting into."

"Doubt it. She gets into this car all the time, still calls it a 'Sulu-boo.'" He patted the steering wheel, gestured to the printed Subaru logo in its center. "What can we do about it?"

"Not much." The grinding noise started up again. Another car pulled into the parking lot behind them, an older man in a long sleeved checked shirt and jeans marched to the front door. The man of meat exchanged words with him, and opened the door into a black hole. Music was briefly heard. Harold thought he recognized Brittney Spears.

"Harold, I'm having an idea."

He glanced at her without moving his head. He was wary of her tone, it suggested violence.

"Let's talk it out, before we do anything stupid."

She nodded. "Right. Well." She swallowed audibly. "So. We go in."

"We go- no. Nope." He shook his head.

"No, listen. If we go in and show her support, and this is something she's good at, then we're good parents."

"Of a stripper."

"Good, regardless. If we go in and our presence makes her rethink her decisions, then, also, we're good parents."

"I think I see what you're getting at." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I don't think she could possibly do... That. In front of us."

"That's my hope. It's also the only thing we can do tonight, that might keep her from making this a career." Lia unbuckled her seatbelt. "Got any cash on you? I bet this establishment doesn't accept credit cards."

The man-mountain of meat eyed them harder as they walked closer. "Couple, huh? Been a bit since we had a couple out here. Ten bucks a head."

Harold passed him a single bill.

"Ayup. First time, I'm betting. No touching the girls with your hands. Girls may touch you, that's different. Tip the dancers by offering them money from behind the divider. They'll come to you to collect. Lap dances are thirty bucks, don't let the girls tell you differently. You can tip 'em more, if ya want, though. Private room is five hunnert an hour. ATM is by the restrooms. Barkeep will make change. Mistreat the girls and you deal with me. I'm Gary, by the way." He held out a hand after making the twenty disappear.

"Harold," he said, putting his hand into the giant paw that engulfed his.

"Lia," she squeaked, and her eyes got big when she saw how big his hand was in comparison to hers.

"Nicetameecha. Y'all have a fun time." And the slab of meat opened a thick steel door, a bumping beat blasted their face, along with a frigid breeze from inside. There was a small hallway leading to their right, painted black wood paneling that turned a corner up ahead. Christmas lights lined the top of the walls, only one in three bulbs lit up.

Lia clutched Harold's arm as they walked in. The music was loud, but they'd been subjected to much louder back in their club hopping days. Voices could be heard whooping over the thick bass beat. They turned the corner, and saw the whole club at once.

There was one stage, at the far end of the room, two poles and a runway between them. The stage was set back from the clientele by an upholstered railing, waist high, about two feet away from the raised platform. The rest of the establishment was small tables, two chairs at each, all facing the stage, and a couple of large, circular booths. The bar was on their right as they entered, a barkeeper roughly the size and shape of a small bull squatting in its center. The signs for the restrooms were plainly marked just over where the bar ended.

The place was somewhat sparsely populated at this hour, a dozen or so men clustered around the stage, another half dozen or so sipping beers alone at their tables. The girl on stage was shimmying near a pole, ignoring the hands outstretched with green bills thrusting at her. She hooked her thumbs into the straps of her top, and lowered it, while moving her hips in time to the music.

"Wow." Lia said. "She's. Um. Talented."

"Top-heavy, you mean. Looks like she might fall over."

"Y'all wanna drink?" The bull snorted next to them.

"Oh. Um. Just a beer for me." Harold said. He pulled out another twenty from his wallet.

"Just. Um, a coke." Lia pointed to an open table, she started moving over to it.

"Comin' right up."

Harold rejoined her a moment later, a large mug of beer in one hand, a much smaller glass of soda with cherries skewered atop it in the other.

Lia stared at the stage. The girl was moving around, collecting tips in creative ways. She took one gentleman's hand by the wrist, and guided it down, to allow him to tuck cash into her underwear. Another hand became encased between two melon sized breasts, when it withdrew, the money stayed behind. She inclined her head. "Ever been in one of these places before?"

"Not since Skyler's bachelor party." Skyler was his younger brother, who'd become rather suddenly engaged to be married two weeks out of basic training. Four years later, he'd been just as suddenly divorced. The bachelor party had been planned by his new friends in the army, it was somewhat raucous. Harold didn't remember much from the night, he'd been new to drinking and had passed out early.

"Fascinating," Lia said, and kept her eyes front. "That girl has a dozen guys just eating out of her hand. Kinda empowering."

Harold nodded, and sipped his beer. "Balances out the objectification, I guess."

Lia glanced at him. "I'm trying to bright-side things here."

"Sorry."

The song ended, and the girl scooped crumpled bills from the stage, stuffed them in a plastic Walmart bag, and left via a beaded curtain.

"Give it up for Sapphire, gents. She'll be out on the floor in a few minutes. Next, coming to the stage is a favorite of yours, I know, back after a little stay in county... Everyone, welcome Jasmine!" The announcer was unseen, and sounded a bit bored. The sound system was crap, too, distorting his voice into a deep bass crackle.

The new girl was less spectacularly endowed, but was heavily tattooed. She entered the stage with bounce and pep as a fast song played. Jasmine leapt for the nearest pole and twirled around it with practiced ease. A few of the loners at the tables went up to the divider, digging in their pockets.

Lia nudged him. Harold raised an eyebrow. "What did he mean, out on the floor?"

"I think she comes out and sells lap dances." He shrugged. "I'm guessing."

"Oh." She took a swig of her coke, put it down hastily, coughing.

"Careful, there's cherries in it."

"And rum. A lot of rum." She wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Ah. I wondered why our drinks were seventeen dollars." He moved his hand towards her glass. "I can get you something else..."

She shook her head. "Nope. Just wasn't expecting it. I'll finish this one." She took his hand, though, and gave it a squeeze. "This is kinda fun."

Harold frowned at her. "Oh? What part?"

She gestured broadly. "Beats the usual bar entertainment we see."

"Huh." He was going to ask if she was enjoying the view, when Sapphire emerged from a black curtained door just behind them he hadn't seen.

"Hi guys! H'aint seen y'all round here before. Y'all doin' okay?" The Texas drawl was deep in her voice, despite them being hundreds miles from that particular state. Sapphire was actually dressed now, although the dress and tights combo didn't leave much to the imagination. She put a hand on Lia's shoulder and leaned in close.

Harold watched his wife get hypnotized by the ample cleavage on display. Her ogling was a new behavior to him, she seemed to be noticing breasts for the first time, like a teenage boy would. "I think we're doing fine," he answered, since Lia's slack jaw wasn't making words at the moment. "We did just get here. Caught the tail end of your dance, very impressive."

"Aw, ain't y'all sweet. I ain't exactly the hottest or the youngest around here, so that's nice to hear." She straightened her back, and Lia's head moved quickly away from eye contact with the deep valley. She shook herself, and followed up with a swig of her cola.

"Miss Sapphire, could I ask you a question?" Harold watched her jiggle as she moved herself around the table. Those things were mesmerizing, close up, always shifting, always in motion. It took effort to find her kindly brown eyes framed by blonde hair with dark roots, but Harold made the effort.

"Anything you wanna ask me, you go right ahead, sugar."

"Well, we came here looking for someone in particular. About yay high, blue hair?"

Lia blinked rapidly and swung her head back to Harold, like she'd forgotten why they were here. Her face said, oh, that's right, an easy expression for Harold to read out of the corner of his eye while he focused on Sapphire.

"You mean that little girl that just started? Blue, I think, is her name, just like her hair. She's awful cute. Well, if she's who you came to see, good news... She's up next." Sapphire turned her head, the bull had snorted behind them. "Oh, you'll hafta excuse me, my husband wants to talk." She twiddled fingers at them as she walked to the bar.

Harold looked to his wife. She seemed slightly dazed, more so than two sips of rum and coke should have produced. "Did you hear her?" He asked.

She nodded vaguely. "Did yousmellher?" Was her response. Harold was confused. He shook his head.

"What-"

"God, she smelled good. Sweaty, and... Mmm. Something else..." She took another long pull off her drink. "Hm." Harold opened his mouth to respond, but the announcer took over the PA as the song faded out.

"And there goes Jasmine. Hate to see ya go, but love watching you walk away, right guys? And girl, I see we have a lady in the audience today. Well, lady and gentlemen, we have a treat for you today, but be gentle, it's her first time up on this here stage. Put your hands together and get 'cher money out... Heeeere's Bluuue!"

The beaded curtain parted and out walked their daughter. She was dressed in a halter top, purple and black, with a matching scrap of fabric that might pass for a dress on bottom. She was barefoot, and clutching her hands in front of herself, a knot of knuckles just below her waist. Her blue hair curled at her jawline and she smiled nervously, for a split second. Then the music started, and the girl exploded into fluid grace.

Harold had no idea she was capable of moving like that. Her arms seemed to lack bones, her legs moved like pistons. She'd picked a Marilyn Manson song, something he remembered from his pirated CD days, before music streaming had made every song available all at once. She twirled and sprung across the stage, a sequence that ended with a somersault, her knees open, her heels on the edge of the stage. Bright white panties peeked out from under the purple skirt as she tumbled, shone in the spotlight again as she arched her back and reversed the somersault.

Men thrust fistfuls of cash at her. Lia gasped. Harold was holding his breath. Sapphire, all the way over at the bar, let out an audible 'wow.'

Blue was back on her feet, another twirl left a scrap of fabric drifting down to the stage. When she held a pose for a beat, they could see she'd lost the halter top, was barely covered by a bikini, black triangles standing in stark relief on her pale breasts. She giggled, put a hand up to cover her smile, and moved again, bending to kiss a guy's hand before removing a ten dollar bill from it. He immediately dug in his pocket for a replacement, but she had done a flying kick over to the other side of the stage. She grabbed the pole en route, and spun around on it for a moment.

When her bare feet hit the floorboards again, she made her first awkward movement, the catch on her 'skirt' was being stubborn. Then that fell away, and she slowed her movements, letting everyone see her form in panties and maybe two square inches of black fabric covering her b-cups.

Blue followed her slow movements with a quick cartwheel, once again bending to collect a crisp green bill with a smile, her fingertips dragging along the man's arm from the shoulder to his wrist. She knelt in front of the man, and danced on her knees for a bit, writhing and moving towards the next fist thrust at her. She stopped in front of the guy, and looked down at his offering. She toyed with the cord of her bikini, twanging the taut bow like a guitar string. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Hastily, he dug in his pocket, and produced another slip of green. Harold was close enough to recognize Ben Franklin's portrait.

She took both bills from him, and gently moved his hand, bringing it between her breasts. She nodded at him, and his face erupted in a grin. She pulled herself back, and he held onto the string she'd put in his fingers. He took her top in his fist, raising it over his head like a prize. Another man slapped him on his back and laughed.

Now topless, Blue bounced atop the stage, glee on her face as she let her breasts fly around. She spun, and stopped on her knees in front of someone else, scoring another greenback with a gentle stroke of the man's beard.

Harold remembered to breathe. He sucked in cool air like he'd been drowning. Maybe he had been, kind of. Seeing his daughter topless was an odd mix of emotions for him. Pride, because she was gorgeous. How had he managed to produce something so beautiful? Awe, due to the grace with which she danced, her fluid movements drawing the eye to her supple, lean body. And, the hardest one to deal with?Lust. He'd met Lia when she was nineteen, and although his soon to be wife's beauty had struck him nearly dumb at the time, even then-Lia couldn't hold a candle to Blue's incredible body. He let his eyes roam across her chest, noting the way her breasts stayed firm and perky against everything gravity threw at them. He marveled at the taut muscles in her thighs, the ample curves of her ass.

Lia let out a moan beside him. He turned his head, not wanting to tear his eyes away from Blue, but something had shifted in his peripheral vision. Sapphire had come up behind them, and was pressing those fleshy pillows into the back of Lia's neck. Lia's eyes were closed and her head lolled into the cushioning. Sapphire's hand lit on his shoulder.

"I see why you came to see her. She's somethin'." And even Sapphire's eyes became glued to the stage as Blue swung from one pole, lit for a step on the floorboards, and fluttered up and onto the other one, flipping upside down in the process.