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reflexively hitch down her dress and hide her bare legs that were probably blushing as brightly as her face was right now. “Thank you.”
    The chauffeur offered no reply and the electric partition slid closed once more.
    Angel looked out of the tinted windows. Already she could see the queue for the club, it stretched halfway down the block. And if what she’d heard about the Leather & Lace was true then she wasn’t surprised, what the Leather & Lace offered would make it very appealing to a certain type of person. Unfortunately Angel wasn’t one of them.
    But there was plenty of that kind of person outside the club and, as the limo crawled slowly past them, their fashion grew more and more outlandish and shocking the closer they got to the entrance. Angel lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she watched them.
    Here was a man in leather pants and boots, as muscular and massive as Conan the Barbarian, with only a crisscross mesh of PVC straps covering his tanned chest from the cold. Beside him was a woman dressed in full burlesque, a fantastically garish silver swan outfit with heavy makeup and a headdress like a thanksgiving foil centerpiece. It was only on second glance that Angel realized it was actually a transvestite. In front of these two, two gorgeous young Asian women in outfits that made Angel’s cocktail dress look like a nun’s robe, held hands with a handsome dwarf dressed in an expensive gangster- esque suit as he cackled and sucked smoke from an expensive cigar. Angel had heard that the Leather & Lace, a kind of burlesque and cabaret club, was also a hive for unconventional sex and prostitution, though until now she’d never believed the rumors as anything more than fanciful gossip. Until now…
    The limo cruised past the doors, two looming neon-lit maws that led downwards into the underground chasm of whatever depravity and sin waited below. Angel watched the two bouncers outside as they ushered in the strange customers. They were giant black musclemen dressed in leather jackets, solemn-faced behind tinted shades. The car continued down to the end of the street and then turned off up a small alleyway.
     
    ***
     
    “Here we are Miss Angel,” the chauffeur spoke as he held the door open for her.
    Angel hesitated, the words “I’ve changed my mind, take me home!” catching in her throat, before forcing a smile and standing up to navigate her way out of the limo, careful to cover her private bits. In this dress it wasn’t easy. No wonder all those celebrities were always getting caught off guard.
    But there was no paparazzi waiting for Angel in the dark and smoky alleyway behind the club. Instead, an elegant cold-eyed older woman stood, arms crossed over her scarlet gown as she puffed indifferently on a cigarette at the end of a long Audrey Hepburn style cigarette holder.
    “Angel,” she smiled (but only with her eyes), “we spoke on the phone.”
    “Oh yes, Miss Constance,” Angel smiled, “how do you do?”
    “I prefer Madam Constance,” the woman said and then looked Angel up and down without any effort whatsoever to hide her distaste. She might as well have been a butcher inspecting a bad cut of meat. “No, no, no,” she frowned, “this is unacceptable. I told you to dress sexy, seductively .”
    Angel’s cheeks burned. She knew Sandra’s cocktail dress had been too much. Silently, she cursed her friend’s well-meaning promiscuity.
    “Never mind,” Madam Constance spoke, “come downstairs, we have plenty more items for you to wear downstairs that will suit the evening better.” Without another word, she turned and disappeared down a basement doorway that Angel had somehow missed, the golden-yellow light spilling up into the metropolitan darkness of the alleyway like the entrance to a different and somehow even more sinister dimension.
    Angel froze, unsure of what to do, when the Chauffeur placed his hand on her shoulder. “Go!” he said and Angel lurched forward, disappearing