"Well, do you want see her monkey or not?"
The applause grew louder. Several whistles and yells pierced the smoke-filled air.
"Show us your monkey, baby," the emcee coaxed.
The attractive girl shook her head. But her smile was full of tease and her hands began stroking her body.
"Ahh… she's got a pretty monkey," the emcee sighed.
"No monkey," the girl said, running her fingers sensually down her abdomen and over her G-string. "Castro!"
"Without a cigar," the emcee laughed. "Come on, baby. Show us Castro without his cigar."
"What're they talking about?" Ruth mumbled, watching and listening to everything now, finding a certain thrill in the very wickedness of it. Her conscience was somewhat dulled by the smooth but potent margaritas. The tequila drinks were having much more of an effect on her than she thought.
The stripper, turning her back to the audience and looking teasingly over her shoulder, slowly removed her G-string and swung it offstage. When she faced the front, legs spread apart and wearing nothing but high-heeled shoes, her crotch was in plain sight. And there was Castro's beard, trimmed and dark and looking better on the girl than it ever had on the Cuban.
Feeling her cheeks flush, Ruth looked away from the lewd sight on the stage. Elliott paid no attention to the girl. He was too busy glancing around the audience, studying the excitement in some faces and the boredom in others.
The next girl was plump, almost fat, but she moved quite gracefully as she danced to the loud, brassy music coming from the band. The Mexican girl danced and stripped, her smile pasted on and artificial. When she was down to beads and G-string, she began patting her loins, and taunting the two young soldiers at the edge of the stage with, "Supper time… supper time."
The young men were drunk enough to go along with it. They called encouragement to the stripper. She moved closer to them, looking down at them as she spread her legs and ground her pelvis slowly for their benefit. One of the soldiers grabbed her ankle.
"Put up or shut up, baby," he said.
She laughed, smiling down at him, ignoring his hand creeping up her leg. When his fingers neared her loins, she pulled away and made a circle around the stage, taking the beads off as she danced. Her beads were made of plastic, the pop-apart type, and she quickly made four small circles from the string, moving back to the young men and giving each two of the circles.
"In your mouth," she said to one of the soldiers, squatting at the edge of the stage and urging the young man to his feet. She put one of the circles of beads in his mouth and palmed her tit close to his face. "You get the idea, honey?"
He grinned, nodding and taking her by the waist, holding her still as he tried to hook the small circle of beads onto her tit.
"You too, honey," the stripper urged the other soldier.
The plump Mexican girl made faces and sounds of delight as the two drunken soldiers rubbed their noses and eyes over her tits, pretending to try to hook the beads in place but obviously not caring a damn about the beads. The ludicrous sight brought peals of laughter from the rest of the crowd.
"Let's go to another club."
Ruth nodded in answer to Elliott's suggestion, getting to her feet at once and following him from the club, her eyes smarting from the thick haze of smoke that hung in the room. She was surprised to find herself walking unsurely and feeling a bit dizzy. On the sidewalk, she inhaled deeply in an effort to clear her fuzzy mind.
"La Fiesta?" a taxi driver asked from the curb.
Elliott shook his head, moving to Ruth and taking her hand.
"You want see a special show?" the driver asked confidentially, coming to them and blocking their path.
"I don't think so," Elliott said, waving him away and leading Ruth up the sidewalk.
Ruth giggled.
"What's funny?"
"There must be a lot of those special shows."
"I guess so."
"Maybe you ought to write about them."
"I wouldn't put you through anything like that, honey," he said. "I'd have to go see one of them before I could write about it, you know."
"I know. Why don't we?"
Elliott stopped in his tracks. "You're not serious, are you?"
Again Ruth giggled.
"You're drunk."
"A little," she admitted, grinning back at him. "I guess those margaritas aren't as weak as they taste."
"I'd better take you back to the motel."
"I don't want to go back. I wanna stay with you. I've gotta keep you out of trouble."
"Some chaperon you turned out to be."
She laughed and hugged him.
"Come on. Let's go to another club," he said.
"Have you ever seen anything like those special shows, Elliott?"
"A movie once… a long time ago."
"Aren't you curious?"
"Do you want to see one of them, Ruth?"
"I think maybe I do."
"I don't believe it."
"I'm not sure I believe it either," she said slowly. "I've never seen anything like that… but tonight I feel a little wicked."
"You're drunk."
"Yes, I am. And curious… very curious."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Elliott said, thinking aloud.
"And it might help your book."
"Are you sure you wouldn't mind, honey?"
"I'm not sure of anything tonight." She squeezed his hand and smiled expectantly. "This place does something to me. I feel strange… sort of turned on."
"Mmmmm… let's go back to the motel."
"I'd like that, darling," Ruth cooed.
"I'll have to learn how to make margaritas so we can have them at home."
"Often," she sighed.
"You're trembling, Ruth."
"I'm excited."
"You want to see one of those shows before we go to bed?"
"If you do."
"It's probably the only chance we'll ever have to do anything like that."
"Uh-huh."
"It's wicked and sinful."
"It's research for your book," she said, smiling.
"Hmmm."
"We're total strangers here, Elliott. No one will ever know."
"I don't feel right about it."
"I want to go. Just once in my life I want to see something really dirty."
"I've never seen this side of you."
"Me either, darling. Aren't I just awful tonight?"
"It's so unlike you."
"I know. Maybe I'm a voyeur… do you think?"
He laughed. "I think you're drunk, that's all."
"Are you gonna take advantage of my loosened vacation morals, darling?"
"The show will probably be vulgar and depraved."
"I've never seen anything vulgar and depraved. I want to see that side of life just once before I die. You'll be with me. Nothing could happen to me, could it?"
CHAPTER THREE
The taxi driver had been standing by, just out of earshot, waiting patiently as they talked. When they turned and started walking toward him, he swung open the back door of his cab and grinned broadly.
Ruth got in first, paying no attention to her dress as it slid well up her thighs. She scooted to the center of the seat, laying her head back and closing her eyes, sighing. Elliott got in beside her and took her hand.
"This is crazy, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quavering with excitement.
The taxi door slammed shut. The driver hurried around the car to get beneath the steering wheel.
"No," Elliott said, "it isn't crazy. It's a little daring for decent people like us, though."
"It isn't dangerous, is it, darling?"
"Of course not. It's just a show, and it is research for my book. It isn't as if we were reveling in the thing itself."
"I'm being silly, I guess… but it feels dangerous."
Elliott chuckled. He put his arm around her shoulder as the driver got in and started the engine.