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upon hearing his words. Well, his words coupled with the fact that she was crazy about the beaded ivory dress he was wearing. “You know who’s upstairs?”
    “Who’s that?” Violet asked.
    “I was just heading up to see Smokey Bender.”
    Violet seemed interested and clapped once. “Let’s go up and see him.”
    They started toward the staircase and Moxie leaned forward so Violet could hear her. “Who is Smokey Bender?”
    “He’s…a performer.”
    “Hmm, why did you hesitate?”
    “Because he’s an acquired taste, so I didn’t want to call him an entertainer. You may not find him entertaining.” They reached a room at the top of the staircase filled with people, and the three of them crowded just inside the doorway. “There he is. This will be a treat.”
    “Why is he taking off his pants?” Moxie asked in concern. A small, wiry man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties pulled his trousers down and stepped out of them, then folded them neatly and handed them to a woman to his left.
    “You’ll see,” Lady Dulce murmured.
    “Is this some genitalia puppet show?” Moxie was aghast as the man then did the same with his underwear, turned so he was facing away from everyone, and bent at the waist. He reached out again to the woman holding his clothing, and she handed him a lit cigar. The crowd seemed pleased, and some onlookers clapped and offered words of encouragement.
    He inserted the cigar into his rectum and, to Moxie’s amazement, began to draw and expel smoke. The applause grew louder.
    Lady Dulce whispered conspiratorially, “How about that?”
    “That is one unbelievable asshole,” she answered.
    “Wait until he blows the smoke rings,” Violet added.
    Moxie’s current inebriated state, coupled with the parade of the bizarre before her, left her unable to distinguish sarcasm from the laws of physics. “Really?”
    She laughed softly. “No, not really. But he will extinguish a candle in a minute or two in what will appear to be a very uncomfortable manner.”
    “Christ almighty,” she whispered, watching him ignite a fart with a cigarette lighter.
    Wil and Julian appeared in the doorway then, and Violet signaled them over. “Lady Dulce, you remember my wonderful friends Urethra Dejeuner and her fiancé Red Nobgobbler, man-about-town.”
    Lady Dulce was clearly amused. “How could I forget?”
    Wil suddenly ducked and tried to hide behind Julian. “What is it?” he asked, scanning the crowd.
    “It’s D.B.,” she answered softly, pressing her back up against his.
    Moxie looked at Violet. “Who’s D.B.?”
    “An old conquest of our gal here. Apparently it didn’t end well and, really, when has it ever? Ah, there he is, by the window.”
    Moxie, Lady Dulce, and Julian immediately looked at him in interest, and when the gentleman saw that he was being stared at by not one, but a group of people, his expression changed to one of grave concern. He looked down suspiciously at his fly.
    “I thought that man’s name was Floyd,” Lady Dulce said.
    “D.B. is a special nickname Wil gave him,” Violet explained, her voice breaking with a hint of laughter.
    Wil cleared her throat. “It stands for douchebag, because sex with him felt a lot like being flushed out with a bag of lukewarm Lysol.”
    “Ouch,” Lady Dulce whispered.
    “I’m sure somehow he remembers your evening together more pleasantly,” Julian said before taking a sip of his drink.
    “It would be hard for him not to, I’m thinking,” Moxie said with a wince. She looked at her new friend in drag. “‘Dulce La Boeuf’? Is that Italian and French?”
    “ Si and oui. Loosely, it means sweet meat.”
    “Or sweetly, does it mean loose meat?” Moxie asked, drunkenly cackling at her pun.
    Lady Dulce laughed too and brushed Moxie’s elbow in a familiar way. “You want a drink, doll?”
    “Only if it means I don’t have to see Mr. Cavity here put anything else in his anus.”
    “You have a deal. Come on.” He took