Vincit Qui Patitur

Jimmy nodded quietly, now grasping that Jack wanted his help with something that he'd not felt comfortable discussing on the phone (their privately owned, and he was sure, totally unmonitored phones), nor here in the strip club that he'd oddly selected for their meeting. Finally, Jimmy understood his reference to their time supporting SOF, what Jack was trying to remind him of; as they'd done several times in Iraq, around buildings targeted by SOF operators, Jack wanted Jimmy's help in surreptitiously emplacing video cameras innocuously around the exterior of a building. Jimmy then remembered the reaction he'd had to Jack's strange choice of meeting at the strip club in which they now sat.

"Okay, I think I understand." Jimmy said, laying his right hand flat, palm down on the table and raising his eyebrows questioningly as he looked Jack in the eyes. He was signaling to Jack that he understood that right here, Baby Doll's, was the target. Jack nodded once and sat back in his chair, smiling.

They were both quiet for several moments, Jimmy's headache was now pounding against his temples and making the vision in his left eye dance in tune with the throb. Jack remained inscrutable behind his still mischievous smile.

"Are you okay, Jack? Do you owe someone some money or something?"

Jack chuckled and shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners and seeming even more squinty. "My intentions are thoroughly noble and I think even you would be proud of me."

Jimmy nodded slowly, understanding again Jack's seemingly meaningless reference. He was asking Jimmy to help him assist a woman, somehow. But his head ache was becoming intolerable, and he wanted to go home to Grace. "Well, we should talk more, maybe later this week. What day works for you?"

Jack nodded. "I'd like that. How about tomorrow evening?"

"Okay, I'll call you tomorrow morning and we'll get things setup." Jimmy said, standing up and holding out his hand to Jack. Jack stood and took his hand and shook it, noticing that Jimmy's grip was much firmer, almost challengingly so, than normal. He also noticed the hard look in Jimmy's eyes as he stared at Jack for a moment before leaving.

Jack watched Jimmy walk toward and then pass through the club's entrance, noticing the tight and angry set to his shoulders. "Sorry, buddy." Jack thought, knowing that when this business was complete, he may have worn out his status as Jimmy's friend.

"Fuck it." He observed to himself, raising his empty glass to let LaChyna know he was ready for another round. But then he changed his mind, deciding he didn't need anymore alcohol just as she approached his table. "LaChyna, do you give lap dances?" He asked her when she'd come to his table, using his most mischievous smile. She arched her left eyebrow suspiciously and smiled. "I certainly do, sugar..."

XV

LaChyna led Jack across the club and he noticed that fewer tables remained vacant as the slow start to the Sunday evening business began to give way to the increased flow of men and a few women on the cold night. The crowd was a largely heterogenous mix, racially, with slightly more whites than non-whites (and of the latter, the majority were black men), though the ages of the demographic constituencies were more contrasting; the white patrons were primarily college aged, in their early twenties, dressed more casually and at least as interested in the allure of alcohol as the forbidden fruit hinted at with increasing acumen from the professional sex teasers as the night wore on. The non-whites were mostly working class men in their 30s and 40s, and while they drank copiously, they were focused primarily on the stage talent. The two groups generally did not mix socially, either, though neither was interested in starting or accelerating trouble.

Jack was impressed with the financial investment Dante, or whomever he had officially run the club, had made in terms of the lights, the sound system and the general quality of the workmanship visible at the surface level of observation. The dark wood of the bar and tables gleamed in the cascade of ever changing but always bright, scintillating lights; the carpet was soft and springy, and left no clouds of mildew in the wake of foot traffic. "Very comfortable place for nervous college kids to buy their fixes." Jack concluded internally.

He followed LaChyna up a staircase and down a darker hallway, and noticed that the sound from the music below was dramatically muted as he climbed the stairs. It was an effect that reminded Jack of several of the higher quality brothels he'd visited in Bangkok and Singapore; there was a reason the proprietors wanted to insulate the two levels, sonically, from one another. She turned from the top of the stairs toward a dark hallway, and passed two doors on the right side of the hall before stopping outside the third, and knocking lightly. She waited a moment or two then opened the door, slowly at first and peeking inside, wanting to confirm her supposition that the lack of response to her knock was because the room was empty, which was indeed the case.

"Come with me, sugar..." She purred, her words as much an implication as they were an instruction. Jack followed her into the room as she turned on the lights and he saw a very comfortable looking, three cushion suede couch along the rear wall of the room, a soft sheepskin rug in front of it, two tall and heavily shaded lamps on either side of the couch, and a small shelf to the right of the door, upon which sat a small music player. There was also a black, wall mounted phone next to the couch, and a price list for champagne, whiskey and sake. He was sure it was all at least 300 percent overpriced. LaChyna kept her back to him as she turned on the music, which he noticed began to issue at a pleasant volume from the six wireless speakers built into various points of the walls and ceiling around them.

She turned around and took his hands in hers and pulled him closer to her. "So you want a lap dance, sugar?" She asked, looking very seductively at him, biting her lip and running her fingers along his hands.

Jack was impressed, it was a very assertive way of getting a John's attention and maintaining the initiative for whatever came next; LaChyna was an experienced pro, Jack knew, and he made it a point to not challenge her or give her reason to suspect him of anything more than she'd expect any other well-dressed looking white man coming to Baby Doll's to do as he unwound and felt teased into spending too much money.

"Yes." He answered simply, smiling at her and acting surprised and pleased with the turn of events.

"Nothing else?" She wondered, batting her eyes three times just a micro second faster than would seem normal if she were truly interested in him.

Jack raised his eyebrows and swallowed for effect. "What else can I get?" He asked.

"Well," she said, "that depends. You're not a cop, or some other kind of professional law enforcement officer, are you sugar?" She asked, and her use of such specific language smacked of both experience and coaching. She let go of his hands and began to run her fingers slowly down his shirt, over his hard pecs and lean ribs, looking down at his throat and watching the steady throb of his veins.

"Nope!" Jack said, again, keeping his responses clear and simple, knowing that only those who were very nervous or poor liars with something to hide said more than necessary when conducting transactions both parties knew to be illegal. He did, however, decide to test the limits of her seductive largesse and put his hands lightly on her hips and overtly admired her coke-bottle figure and toned sides.

She looked back into his eyes and smiled plastically, took hold of his hands and gently removed them from her hips. "No touching until I say so, sugar." She admonished him with artificial politeness. "There you are." Jack thought to himself, "The pro emerges."

"Can you do something for me, sugar? I need to see your dick, so unzip and take it out for me so I can hold it in my hands." She said, watching his face carefully. She correctly read the arousal in his eyes and lack of any shock or alerting expression. He continued smiling at her as he unbuckled, then unzipped his pants, reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock and his balls.

LaChyna looked down at his long, swelling cock then back up at his eyes. He was smiling at her mischievously, ("He is cute," she thought) as she reached down and took his unblemished, circumcised penis in her hand. She gripped the shaft, noticed how warm it felt, how it throbbed rhythmically as she turned it left and right, more for show to back up her request to 'see' his cock, than any real examination for something alerting.

"Impressive." She said, and he was certain she probably said that a lot, and cared very little for any man's dick, given the number she'd no doubt seen in her time. Still, she was a bit unsure as to his status, he just looked too proper to her professional's eye, and something about his mannerisms tweaked at her instincts for avoiding law enforcement setups.

"Can you do one more thing for me?" She asked as his now erect cock stood pointing flagrantly at her. "Can you touch my pussy?" She said, lifting up her cheap, shimmering skirt with her left hand, and taking his left hand in her right and slowly moving it to her crotch. She watched him carefully, checking for any hint he'd try to pull his hand away from her or hesitate to actually make contact with her. He had no such hesitation, and his smile widened as his fingers gently made contact with her soft pussy through the fabric of her nylon thong, and he gently ran his middle finger along the cleavage of her camel toe, finding where her clit sat at the apex, like a queen on her throne. He gently rubbed her clit between his thumb and forefinger three times, before she moved his hand away and let her skirt fall back down.

"Okay, I believe you, you're not a cop." She chuckled. His touch had been nice, more gentle than she usually got from that test, but also more confident. "You can put your dick back in your pants. For now..." She teased. Jack had no illusion about where a pro like LaChyna would draw the line.

"It's $20 for a dance, and no touching. $50 for a dance and you can touch me anywhere through the clothes. $100 for a naked dance with touching, but no putting anything in my pussy or my ass. $175 to suck on my tits, $200 for a handjob, $300 for a blowjob, but only with a condom. I don't do full service." She said, laying out the menu options as Jack stuffed his cock and balls back into his pants.

"Damn, I hate condoms. I guess I'll have to settle for a titty-sucking, naked dance." Jack said, reaching for his wallet and taking out two crisp $100 bills. "No change." He clarified.

LaChyna took the money from him and noticed the way he handed it over without hesitation, despite his expressed disappointment with her rule on condoms. She concluded that if he was willing to spend that much in spite of his disappointment, he was likely in a range of wealth that women in her profession looked for. She began to take off her clothes, but paused when he interrupted her.

"Can you keep your stockings on?" He asked. While he had no desire to actually engage in any penetrative sex act with her, he was at heart a man who always found women in stockings (and nothing else) extremely arousing.

"Okay, sugar." She said, sliding her skirt off and stepping out of her black and shiny, fuck-me heels. She padded across the room in her red fishnet stockings, leading him to the couch and then sat down on his lap, taking his hands and putting them on her jiggly, natural tan breasts. Her brown nipples were hard and pouty, surrounded by very narrow areolae, barely wider than the nipples themselves. Jack cupped her breasts and gently touched and ran his fingers over her nipples. She was attractive, but Jack was just killing time until he had an opportunity to ask her about buying drugs from her. He'd made love to Veronica three times that day already, and she'd once more sucked his cock mind-blowingly, and thus his sexual desire was generally speaking, in-check. LaChyna was, to Jack's eye, no comparison to Veronica, nor any threat to his growing feelings for her.

She waited for a new song to start, and moved rhythmically along his lap, rubbing her ass cheeks and her thighs along his crotch, and watching his gaze. He seemed transfixed with her breasts, which was good, she concluded, confident that meant he was likely easy to control, but didn't show much interest in leading her into any kind of incriminating situation. She let herself relax enough to move into the more profitable negotiations which allowed the club's owner to pay for the upgrades needed for rooms like these.

"Maybe there's something else you need?" She offered, lifting one of her breasts from his hands and leaning forward, holding it out for him to take in his lips. He smiled and looked at her eyes, taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking it energetically for a few moments, showing his willingness to behave in a manner off limits to professional law enforcement.

"What have you got?" He asked.