A/N: I do not own a thing. Lucas (Arts)/Dave Filoni/Disney... I just, you know, write from time to time.
A/N2: I'm, like, 99% sure, that if not for Disney, there would be a 69's in canon! it's just too obvious!
Every king has his kink
The clone trooper entered the establishment. With his helmet on, blue paint-job on his armour, he stood in on a red carpet, unsure if he truly should enter the lobby full of silk-smooth drapery and dim, ambient lighting.
"please, come in"
He flinched, startled, as a young woman at the reception gestured to him. She wore semi-transparent red costume that revealed more than it covered.
As every clone, the man politely took off his helmet, as he approached her. Revealing free-off-ink skin and short, blond buzz cut.
"ah... eh..." he began, searching for words. His hands shoot toward his utility belt, with every second his cheeks grew redder "Kix, I mean... CT-61- our field medic" he stumbled. "he... ordered me to..." After a solid minute of fighting and searching the pouches, the clone produced a crumpled green fill-in note. The woman behind the counter took it from the gloved hand and smothered it against the marble.
The trooper looked sheepishly at her. Afraid, she might ask him to decipher field medic's infamous handwriting. Tel'I Mena had no problems whatsoever. As every hooker she had a story – her was a apothecary career. Back in a day, her sole job was to decipher prescriptions written in universally unreadable Loth-cat-with-a-stroke-type handwriting of medical officials all around Coursant. Then, as it was with the most staff of 69's, the war begun.
At the beginning Tel'I was disturbed by the insight the clone medic had on his brother's sexual preferences. Some of them were odd requests – a stuck-up clone with a hand print on his chest plate needed anyone that has a firm grasp on military regulations. With an afterthought: let him rebel. Force bless Z'Asa-Ada's for being an ex-lawyer. Most of clones, however, were simple men (a simple man?) - nothing that 69's diverse staff couldn't handle.
It was a mutual benefit. For a discount and discretion, Kix got 69's props that no-other red light level establishment had: all types of clone uniforms (with unstitched rank insignia of course) few sets of shiny, sterile white, plastoid armour, gutted of hardware helmets, fried blasters, semi-blunt combat knives, few pairs of handcuffs, even ration bars that tasted like chalk... Tel'I Mena had no idea how Kix got those items, but it was a question better left unanswered.
Late at night her staff fitted those new props for themselves, painted them in pink (often mimicking real life paint-jobs) and stitched fake heart shaped ranks. Finally Teah and Veah, gorgeous Madao twins, had a solid, rising in popularity, act that involved heart shaped chest plates, buzz-cut hairstyles and salutes.
Tel'I smiled, gestured at one of her employers.
"Shoka" Tel'I Mena addressed Togruta female that just entered the lobby "take this fine, young man to room 213"
The courtesan did just that. With theatrical bow, a wink and a sway of her hips, she lead her new client upstairs.
Once the man disappeared round the corner, Tel'I Mena looked at the list of clone troopers Kix provided her. Who would have guessed the Captain of infamous 501st preferred: Lean Togruta female, spunky + playful banter. With bottom note: vanilla.