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.Here it was to be tasted.The neon signs and gaudy flashing lights stood like the gates into another world, announcing the wares that lay within the dark domains.The man in the cowboy boots stopped, a gust of wind riffling the knee-length brown canvas coat he wore.His dark brown, hollow-socketed eyes scanned the signs: Girls and Boys Live Onstage! Dominant Females in Black Leather! Sorority Girls in Heat! All Sizes, All Flavors!At the outer corners of his eyes were three small crimson teardrops, tattooed on the smooth pale flesh as if he were weeping drops of blood.He went on, past the open doors that bellowed loud rock drumbeats and snared knots of gaping Japanese.His thumbs hooked in the ornate silver buckle of his belt, and his pace began to slow.Just past the All Nude! All Crude Honeys! parlor was the sign he’d been seeking.It announced Porno Queens Want to Meet Ya and had glossy pictures of attractive though heavily made-up young women covering the front window.Captions identified some of them, names like Tasha Knotty, Kitt Cattin, Easee Breeze, and Paula Bunyan.The man, who was of indeterminate age, possibly in his late twenties, regarded the photographs for a moment.Then he looked down at the sill, where dead flies lay and one was still feebly kicking.This must be the place.He strode through a red door into a corridor where a burly Chicano man sat reading a Slash Maraud comic book behind a caged-in ticket booth.“Ten bucks,” the Chicano said in a bored voice.He didn’t put aside the comic.“You want to meet anybody special?”“Yes,” the cowboy said in a toneless, whispery voice.“Easee Breeze.”The sound—like the hiss of a snake—made the Chicano look up.He stared at the tattooed teardrops.“You see somethin‘ you don’t like, amigo?”“No.No, man.” The Chicano shook his head and sat up a little straighter.The crew-cut guy was lean, about six-two or six-three, and he looked like a dude you didn’t want to mess with.“Yeah, Easee’s in here, man.You want to party?”“Maybe.Easee was in a movie called Super Slick, wasn’t she?”“She’s been in a lot of flicks, man.She’s a star!”“I know that.I saw her in Super Slick.” He glanced toward another red door further along the corridor.From beyond it was a bass-heavy boom.“I want to meet her.”“You go in there and sit down, man.Enjoy the show.If Easee’s onstage, you ring her number.If she’s not, she’ll be j up in a few minutes.Ten bucks.Okay?” He tentatively tapped the countertop.The cowboy took a wallet from the inside of his duster, opened it, brought out a ten-dollar bill, and slid it through the bars.A light sheen of sweat had begun to glisten on his bony face.“Tippin’s extra, man,” the Chicano said.“Easee ain’t cheap.”“Neither am I.” The cowboy smiled faintly, but it was a cold smile.Then he strode on toward the door, and the Chicano hit a switch that unlocked it.The cowboy went through, and the door locked again as it swung shut.Speakers in the red-velvet-covered walls emitted a steady drumbeat.Three rows of tattered theater seats, where four other men sat in a smoky gloom, faced a large plate-glass window.Behind the glass gyrated three nude women, each with a numbered card hanging between her breasts.Easee Breeze was not among the dancers, and the cowboy took a seat on the back row and propped his boots up to wait.After another moment one of the other men pressed a little button on the armrest of his chair.There were five alarm-bell rings, and the thin redhead with the numeral 5 on her card put on a false smile that looked like a death’s-head grimace and came out through a barred door to meet her date.The redhead led the grinning, beer-bellied tourist through another doorway at the other side of the room.“Hope ya’ll have fun!” the cowboy shouted just before the door closed.The dancing started again.Two more men—kids, really, probably college students—entered the room and took their seats, giggling and whispering nervously.The cowboy paid them no attention; he just sat back, watched the bouncing boobs, and waited.A couple more girls reemerged from the back room and started listlessly dancing.Neither of them was the one the cowboy sought.The pounding rhythm, the red walls, the dim light, made him sleepy, as if he were sitting in a huge womb.But after four minutes or so he slid his boots off the seat back and leaned forward, smiling with renewed interest.A slender, pretty blond had joined the dancers, and was grinding energetically.Around her neck was a card with the numeral 2 on it.He started to press his button—but before he could, two rings came over the speakers.The cowboy looked around, startled, and saw one of the college kids sheepishly getting to his feet [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]