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Kartoon. A city of undercurrents. A city plunged into darkness. A city on the edge of insanity. A serial killer is on the loose. A city of shadows. To examine a murder scene is to look only at a shadow of what happened, and the shadow of the killer. The target are police. The killer is successful. Confusing clues. A dancer in adult’s only nightclub a person of interest. The dancers wear masks. The killer’s face unknown. The only witness to a kill in a dark alley recalls ‘a very sexy ass’. The killer is unpredictably inventive and appears to be in two places at the same time. Buildings large teams of police enter in the hunt for the killer tend to explode. Carnage. Yet it seems an unfortunate accident. The police death toll starts looking like a war casualty list. Mayhem. Identifying the ‘very sexy ass’ among shapely young dancers in adult's only clubs not easy. Even in the face of an elaborate trap the killer proves elusive. Suspense from beginning to end as pieces of the puzzle became less easy to fit together. An explosive climax.
Chapter 3 Nightlife Adult’s Only Club
On the stage of the Nightlife Adult’s Only club seven shapely dancers. Dressed? Long slim legs with high heel shoes. Usually red or glittering gold. Sleek shapely body sliding against chrome columns. Some dancers with backs to the audience and bending torso down all the way. Wolf-whistles. Not an easy maneuver in high heels, to keep the legs perfectly straight and apart and lower one’s head beneath the waist. More wolf-whistles. The reward is applause and when that dancer is close to the front of the stage, or stands and comes close and kneels, intoxicated patrons push paper money into the panties. Some patrons stagger all the way from the back tables to do this.
On each dancer a mask. Gold or silver or black. The mask put on first. About ¾ the size of the face. Then a wig. Usually long hair. The mask the largest item of the skimpy garments. The dark panties brief at the front and, in the flashing lights alternating between orange and red, hard to tell if these went around the back. The bra a narrow band across mid-breasts. Often dispensed with during some dancing moves.
Now and then, usually a request from an intoxicated patron with money, a dancer may be dressed as a police officer, or nurse, or Queen of Egypt. No shortage of costumes. Some adapted to suit. A nurse’s uniform could be ever so brief – or it could be exactly how a nurse’s uniform is in a hospital setting.
Surprisingly the bras, usually, managed to stay in place during the erotic movements. Now and then a bra slipped-off. The dancer continued. Or a dancer may remove her bra and swing it in the air. But only when no paper money had been pushed into it. Some dancers rub their backs against chrome poles, sometimes bending
forward in an erotic moment with the pole. The energetic dancing broken by slower sexually alluring poses. Some are closer to the front of the stage. Some squatting, letting a patron shove money down the front of their panties, or bra but that was too skimpy to hold much securely. The panties not much better.
Every half-hour a half-hour break for the dancers. Refreshed dancers take over. The skimpy panties can only hold so much the intoxicated patrons push inside. The rest on the stage. On a good night, Friday and Saturday especially, after a half-hour session the stage may be full of serious paper money. Prior to new dancers taking the floor a waitress collects it. It is placed inside a safe which has an opening on the top, like a money box. At the end of the night, after 2 AM, the manager, Jason, opens the safe and evenly distributes the money collected from the stage floor. Typically that is more than an individual dancer manages to keep in her panties, or bra, during her time on stage.
Jason is serving drinks behind a long bar while keeping an eye on the dancers. The music so loud patrons have to be loud to talk to one another. Several waitresses, looking like Playboy bunnies, are taking orders. Few women patrons. The owner set strict rules for his staff. The dancers must wear a mask on club premises. Jason had to learn to recognize the names of the dancers by their figure and manner and voice, not their face. His specialty was ass. By that, he claimed, he could identify any dancer. Intoxicated patrons who doubted this could put serious money as a bet. Jason always won.
This particular constraint of wearing masks was useful to the dancers. One might want a night off, and may find a friend who takes her place without Jason being aware. Not that easy to tell between one young woman and the next, when all have shapely figures and long legs and wear wigs and masks. Jason understands this takes place now and then, and is against the owner's strict rules, but turns a blind eye. Five dancers is the minimum on the stage. On busy nights seven might