No sign. A line of people and a ramp. The bouncer in a silver suit collects cash at the door. Ruby, Viv, and Boris descend down, down into the pulse throb beat where a full-fleshed woman in blue silk tap pants lifts up her thick legs, one at a time, slowly to the rhythm of the boom boom boom. Lying along a black leather bench, her breasts spilling from a tiny black satin bra like an offering. Ruby pretends not to be shocked, to be part of it all because that’s her plan and before the night is over she just might be spread on that very bench in her underwear lost in the music and who says that can’t happen? Boris stuffs his pocket with the change. “Holy Mary,” Viv whispers with cool peppermint breath. Her jet-black hair bound up in a tie, wisps of it falling all over her porcelain face. Ruby squeezes Viv’s hand. Shakes out her wheat-brown curls so they hang over one dark eyebrow and cornflower blue eye. “Let’s go,” she says and takes the first step.
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