He wrinkled his nose in distaste. How could Benson tolerate a place like this? He watched as the spotlight swung through the darkness and came to rest on a pair of long tapering thighs. There was an expectant rustling in the audience. It reminded Ellis of his days in the Navy, stationed in Baltimore. That was the last time he had been in a place like this, hot and sticky with fantasies and frustrations. That had been a long time ago. It was a shock to think how fast the time had passed. “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the incredible, the lovely, Cynthia Sin-cere. A big hand for the lovely Cynthia!” The spotlight widened onstage, to show a rather ugly but spectacularly constructed girl. The band began to play. When the spotlight was wide enough to hit Cynthia’s eyes, she squinted and began an awkward dance. She paid no attention to the music, but nobody seemed to mind. Ellis looked at the audience. There were a lot of men here—and a lot of very tough-looking girls with short hair. “Harry Benson?”
