Lucas shrugged. "Ask our server when he gets back."
"Good idea."
A drumroll silenced the music and the crowd. On stage the arcing jelly-lights began to pulse in rapidly shifting patterns between floor and ceiling. A murmur of anticipation rose from the onlookers.
A man dressed in formal evening wear stepped out from behind the heavy blue and gold curtains. He had a micro- phone in his hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen." The announcer paused to make certain he had the full attention of the crowd. "Welcome to SynCity, where your most erotic dreams come true. Tonight's performance is about to begin. For those of you who have never experienced synergistically augmented sexual entertainment, allow me to present the two people who will thrill you tonight. York and Yolanda."
The crowd roared its approval as the outer layer of the curtain rose. A man and a woman stood revealed in the flashing lights. Both wore skintight garments fashioned of a glittering, silvery material. Their hair had been dyed a matching shade of silver white. Long, silver gloves covered their hands and arms.
The music swelled as York and Yolanda bowed to the audience. It took the announcer several minutes to regain the attention of the crowd. When he had it, he gave a leering smile and winked broadly.
"York is a class-eight talent, ladies and gentlemen. He is a syn-sex generator. One of those rare individuals gifted with the ability to pick up strong sexual sensations, heighten those sensations, and project them toward those of you who are lucky enough to be sitting in our audience tonight. Yolanda is the powerful prism who will assist him. Let's hear it again for York and Yolanda."
The crowd broke into eager applause. Shouts of encouragement went up around the room. Amaryllis frowned at Lucas.
"There is no such thing as a . . . a syn-sex generator," she hissed across the table. "And even if there were, he couldn't possibly project the sensations of sexual activity to a room full of people."
Lucas glanced around. "Tell that to this crowd. The first rule of good theater is that the audience wants to believe. And this crowd definitely wants to believe."
The announcer raised his hand for silence and got it. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to enjoy a truly unique sexual experience. You are about to discover new levels of erotic stimulation. I give you Vivien of the Veils."
The inner curtain rose. A woman appeared in the spot- light. She was shrouded from neck to toe in flowing purple. Her head was bowed. Purple hair cascaded down her back to her waist. Massive purple crystals sparkled on her wrists and decorated the gold circlet that bound her hair.
Amaryllis stared. "Do you think that's the Vivien we came to meet?"
"Wouldn't be surprised. Probably not a lot of Viviens around here. At least not a lot who wear veils."
The music fell into a low, throbbing beat. York and Yolanda took up positions at the edge of the stage. They clasped hands and closed their eyes as if in intense concentration.
The thonged waiter returned just as Vivien lifted her head and began a series of sultry, sinuous movements. Amaryllis picked up her glass and sipped cautiously at the weak green wine. She watched, first in amazement and then with increasing embarrassment, as the dancer's veils shimmered and swirled. Glimpses of Vivien's buttocks and breasts created a ripple of excitement in the audience.
"Reminds me of that dress you wore to the museum reception," Lucas murmured.
Amaryllis was outraged. "That's not true. My dress was perfectly decent."
"Whatever you say."
The men in the crowd booted and applauded as the first of Vivien's veils fell away. The women in the audience cheered a moment later when a man emerged from the shadows and strode onto the stage. He wore a pair of thigh- high leather boots and a thong that was even smaller than the waiter's.
The male dancer reached out to snatch one of Vivien's veils. It came free, baring the dancer's breasts, which were supported by a purple harness that emphasized purple rouged nipples. Amaryllis decided that she and Vivien did not shop at the same semiannual underwear and foundation sales.
Vivien circled her partner in a series of unmistakably erotic movements. The man responded with strong pelvic thrusts, which Amaryllis knew could not have been good for his lower back.
The music quickly grew more intense. The beat became relentless. At the edge of the stage, York and Yolanda were bathed in a sheen of sweat.
The male dancer lowered himself onto a purple velvet rug. Vivien, now almost completely nude, straddled his hips.
Embarrassed, Amaryllis turned her attention to the audience. The heavy breathing in the immediate vicinity was quite audible. A few people began to pant and moan. A shrieking cry of ecstasy emanated from a dark corner of the room. A man's husky groan sounded from a neighboring table.
On stage, York and Yolanda strained mightily as Vivien and her companion ground away at each other.
"I don't believe this for one minute." Amaryllis glowered at Lucas. "It's all an act."
Lucas smiled. "Want to prove that York and Yolanda aren't doing a damn thing except sweating up there on the stage?"
Amaryllis understood immediately. "You want to link? Here? Now?"
"I'm a detector, remember? If York is using any talent, I'll pick it up."
Amaryllis's cheeks burned at the memory of the sensual sensations that had flooded through her the last time she and Lucas had linked.
"I don't think that's such a good idea." She almost winced at the prim tone in her voice. "I'm supposed to be here on business."
Lucas grinned. "You're scared."
"That's not true."
"Don't worry, you're a professional, remember? You can handle it."
He was goading her. Amaryllis knew it but she couldn't seem to rise above it.
"All right," she muttered. "But just for a moment."
Lucas's eyes gleamed in the darkness. He reached across the table and took her hand.
The link happened quickly. A few seconds of seeking, the brief sensation of vulnerability, and then Amaryllis went to work. The prism took shape on the psychic plane.
"You know, professionally speaking. Miss Lark, you're good," Lucas drawled softly. "Very good."
Talent pulsed through the prism.
The noise of the music and the crowd faded. To her dismay, Amaryllis became acutely aware of the warmth in her lower body. She had been doing a reasonably good job of suppressing her reaction to Lucas all evening, but some- thing about the link loosened those inner controls. His fingers tightened around hers.
"I'm not picking up anything from York," Lucas whispered. "The guy's a complete fake."
"I knew it." Amaryllis hastily broke the link. The prism winked out of existence.
A woman's shriek sliced through the dark room. A man gave a muffled groan. The couple sitting at the neighboring table began to kiss passionately.
"Want to leave?" Lucas asked gently.
"I have to talk to Vivien."
"We can wait outside until the performance is over and then go to her dressing room."
Amaryllis felt absurdly grateful for the suggestion. "Excellent idea." She leaped to her feet.
Lucas put down his unfinished beer, stood, threw some money down, and took her hand. He forged a path through the maze of tiny tables. The cries and moans of people who appeared to be in the throes of sexual climax rose and fell.
"I can't believe that all these people have actually convinced themselves that they're being sexually stimulated by York and Yolanda." Amaryllis said. "This is nothing more than self-induced mass hysteria."
"I guess it works for them," Lucas said.
Chapter 7
"Hold it." Amaryllis held up an imperious hand as Lucas reached for his wallet. "What do you think you're doing?"