Xeno meandered through the morphing machines, until he came to a sinewy go go dancer in string bikini, listlessly gyrating inside a glass booth, her name glowing in neon letters above the booth door:
STARLIE
"Hi there!" Starlie's eyes lit up, her voice bleating through cheap speakers. "Faster? Slower? What?"
"How do you clear a plasma jam?"
"The cartridge is probably empty."
"Can you grab one for me?"
"After my shift ends."
"After? Aren't you supposed to help customers before your shift ends?"
"Not my Keeno's shift—my dancing shift. I work two shifts at once. One for the Keeno's Union, and one for the Go Go Union. It's called folded labor. Instead of working two jobs at two times, you work two jobs at once, so you're only twice as exhausted half the time. Kinda neat, huh?" She sighed after thinking it over. "That's all life gets to be . . . Go go dancing and clearing plasma jams. If you can wait a few more songs, I'll be happy to help you. My dancing shift ends in fifteen minutes."
"Can't you just take a tinkle break and replace the cartridge on your way back to your booth?"
"Nah, cuz I tinkle in the booth. The toilet pops up under my ass and the curtains drop down, so I get my privacy."
"Not even for a Klownburger gift card?" Xeno dangled the card in his fingers. "There's enough left over for an extra large soft drink."
"Ah, that's sweet. My kid loves that place, but really, I can't. Union rules. You can come home with me if you feel like it. My rates are cheap and I don't have any diseases. I have an orgy sofa that feels like real skin, but that'll cost you extra." She rolled her head of frazzled red hair, clicked her gum, kept her ass grooving.
"What would your kid think?"
"My kid? Actually, it's my girlfriend's kid. The kid is staying with her on-and-off-again boyfriend, so it's just me and my girlfriend for now. I can throw in my girlfriend too, but that'll cost you extra, on top of the orgy sofa . . . I'm renting to own the furniture. What a mistake, after you tack on all that interest."
"So, no one can help me now?"
"Try Estro. She's coming on the floor now."
"And which booth—?"
"Way in the back," Starlie pointed with a long acrylic nail towards the back of the store. "Sorry, but I have to pee. Nice meeting you." She pressed a button in the booth, reached around her waist to drop her panties, just as a small toilet rose under her ass from a hidden floor panel. Opaque curtains dropped down all around her, concealing her from Xeno's view.
Xeno wandered towards the back of the store, where the ceiling panels flickered from defective bulbs, and most of the morph machines flashed OUT OF ORDER. He came to the go go booth, with the name of the next dancer aglow in neon letters, above the plexiglass door:
ESTRO
Through a veil of frosted curtains, he could see the silhouette of a statuesque woman wrapping herself in a robe, tightening her sash. He stopped and waited a safe distance, until the door hissed open.
Estro stepped out of the booth onto the carpet with a billow of blonde hair, her eyes concealed by wrap-around diva glasses, her face button-nosed with a heart-shaped jaw, glaze-red lips, flat with no expression. She folded one leg back, yanked a stiletto off her foot, tossed it aside, then did the same with the other shoe.
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YOU ARE READING
Xenoman
Science FictionXeno yearns to have access to The Nth Dimension like The White Boys, famed telepaths who suffered brain damage when they made contact with extraterrestrial intelligence. Out of work as a bartender since the Shoki Pao dance club mysteriously burned d...