As they neared the downtown section of Juarez, Elliott reached across the seat of the taxi and took Ruth's hand. They'd decided it best to go by taxi and leave their car at the motel, thinking rightly there would be little available parking space during the early evening rush, and fearing possible theft of the clothing and cameras in their car, if not the car itself.
Feeling the tenseness in his pretty wife, Elliott suggested, "You can still go back to the motel, honey."
She pulled her hand from his. "We've already been over that. I'm going with you, and that's final."
"Where to?" the driver asked, turning onto the garishly lit main street.
"You want to get your velvet painting first?"
"Naw, forget it. You're right. Those things are grotesque."
"Well, I'm relieved. You would've had to hang it in your study, you know. I certainly wouldn't want one of those bright monstrosities in the house."
"Drop it, will you?"
"Where to?" the driver demanded. "We are downtown. Some particular place you want go?"
"No. Let us out here," Elliott said, taking out his wallet as the driver pulled his cab to the curb and stopped.
"You lookin' for fun?" the driver asked.
"Yes," Elliott said. "We're going to take in a few shows."
"I take you to best night club in Juarez… La Fiesta. Big names from your country entertain there. Very high-class place."
"No. That isn't exactly the kind of entertainment we have in mind," Elliott said.
The pudgy Mexican face smiled knowingly. "Just strippers and dancers here downtown. You want see a special show?"
"A special show?"
"You know, senor."
The tone of the man's voice made Elliott know. "Yes, I think I do know. But I don…"
"Anything you want see. I take you."
"I'm sure you can, bu…"
"Real dirty show. Live. Anything you want see."
"No!" Elliott snapped, handing the driver a five and waiting for his change.
"I'll be around if you change your mind," the driver called as Elliott climbed from the taxi and held the door for Ruth.
"What was he talking about?" Ruth asked as they strolled up the sidewalk.
"Live sex shows, I think."
"How disgusting! You're not planning to see anything like that, are you, Elliott?"
He wasn't planning on any such thing, but he couldn't resist jabbing back at Ruth for refusing him at the motel. "Maybe later. Are you going with me?"
"You're not serious, Elliott!"
"About halfway!"
"Don't make a scene, darling," she said, calming down at once.
"Ruth, either get off your high horse or go back to the motel."
She could only push Elliott so far and she knew it. Though she didn't like any of this, she decided to go along and keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. She smiled sheepishly, slipping her arm through his and saying, "I have been a little bitchy, haven't I, darling?"
"That isn't exactly the way I would've phrased it, but yes, you have been somewhat bitchy ever since we crossed the bridge this noon."
"I'm sorry, Elliott. It's the first time I've ever been out of the United States, and I guess it upsets me more than I'd thought."
"I understand, honey. But you don't have anything to worry about. They treat tourists very well here. Their economy depends on Americans."
"I know. I'm being silly."
"Not silly. Just overly cautious."
"Well, whatever. You lead the way, darling. I'll go with you uncomplainingly for the rest of the night. After all, you do have to do your research if you're going to write a good book, don't you?"
"That's what I've been telling you, honey."
"Okay," she said, gulping. "I'm ready for anything."
Elliott laughed. "You can relax. We're not going to one of those special shows."
"Well now, I am relieved to hear that. But don't forego it on my account. I'm willing if you really think it's necessary. I can shut my eyes or something."
"Well," Elliott teased, "maybe later. If you're all that anxious to see life in the raw…"
"Now, I didn't say that, Elliott."
He laughed, putting his arm around her and hugging her, sensing that she was unwinding a bit, and glad of it. When she joined his laughter, he said, "Come on. Let's go in here."
The emcee was doing his monologue when they entered the dimly lit night club. A bored waiter motioned them toward a front table. Elliott shook his head and pulled out a chair for Ruth at an empty table near the center. He wanted to watch the club's patrons as much as the show itself, and he couldn't do that comfortably from a front table. The vacationing Americans were his prime interest of the evening. It was their reactions and antics that he wanted to mentally record for the book he was yet to start.
Ruth laughed heartily at something the emcee said. "Why, he's actually good, Elliott."
"I didn't hear."
"It was a little off-color but not at all vulgar like I was afraid it would be. He's quite funny."
A different waiter slapped an ash tray on the table and asked what they wanted to drink.
"What do you want, Ruth?"
"Oh," she said, grinning as she watched the emcee make a face while he talked incessantly on, "whatever you're having, darling. Make it something Mexican, why don't you?"
"Something Mexican," Elliott told the waiter.
"Margaritas?" the waiter asked.
"That'll be fine."
The emcee was good, Elliott discovered, much too good for the strip joint they were in. He did a long monologue of very humorous and only slightly off-color material, interrupting it twice to sing a couple of American standards in his rich baritone voice. By the time he was finished with his act and introducing the first stripper, Ruth and Elliott had absently sipped all of their margaritas and the waiter had brought them two more without bothering to ask if they wanted them.
Ruth picked up her second drink and licked at the salt-covered rim of the glass.
"Good drink, isn't it?" Elliott asked.
"Mmm… delicious. I wonder what they put in them besides salt? Grapefruit juice, I think. That's all I can taste. There's something else… can you tell what else?"
"Nope."
"Well," Ruth said, "I don't think we have to worry about getting drink on these. They're good, but sort of weak. I always thought Mexican drinks were supposed to be strong, didn't you, Elliott?"
The band played softly. The pretty Mexican girl danced sensually around the small stage. Busy watching the stripper and the faces looking at her, Elliott only half-heard what Ruth was saying. Something further about the drinks, he realized.
Smiling seductively, the dark-skinned girl on stage reached behind her and pulled open a zipper very slowly. Ruth quit talking and sat stiffly, staring straight at the girl, watching her tease the dress off her shoulders. One tit came into view, covered by a peekaboo lace bra cup. The girl palmed the large breast, licking sensually at her red lips.
Her knuckles turning white from gripping the glass so tightly, Ruth brought the margarita to her lips and took a big swallow. Then the girl had both her tits in her hands, walking around the stage and showing them to the audience. Ruth wanted to jump up and rush out.
But she didn't. She forced herself to quit squirming. She glanced at the people in the audience. She sipped her drink.
"Take it off!" someone called.
A chill shot through Ruth at the lewd cry.
"Take it all off!" a female voice yelled laughingly.
Ruth glanced back to the stage, gasping as she saw the girl's lacy bra slide down her arms and fall to the floor. Immediately the stripper kicked it away, the action causing her large globes to sway from side to side. Several men in the club groaned.
"She's really got 'em, huh?" the emcee asked, unseen and out of the light. "I'll let you in on a secret, folks… they taste better than they look!"
"Prove it! Prove it!" two young soldiers at a front table demanded.
The stripper moved to the soldiers, bending over them, holding her bare tits as she stooped and brought them near their faces. One soldier reached boldly for a brown-tipped tit. The girl laughed and jumped away. The audience roared with laughter as she strutted around the stage taking off another piece of her costume.
Ruth elbowed Elliott. "How far does this go?"
He shrugged, trying to ignore her and concentrate on the crowd's reaction to the stripper.
"It's getting vulgar, Elliott."
Elliott glared at Ruth. "You can leave any time you want!"
"No," she said, making herself smile. "Order us another drink."
"Already?"
"Well, they're so weak… and they do taste good."
"Okay, honey," Elliott said, taking her hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze as he motioned the waiter to bring them more drinks.
"I'll be all right."
"Sure you will, Ruth."
"I've never seen carrying on like this, that's all."
"Does it really upset you so much?"
She sighed. "Not really, I guess. But I don't like it very much."
"I'm glad you don't," Elliott told her, chuckling as he patted her thigh.
"Do you like it, Elliott?"
"It isn't a question of whether I like it or not. It's research for my book."
"She does have nice titties."
"What?"
"The stripper," Ruth said. "She's got nice ones… sort of big, though."
"Are you getting drunk on me, Ruth?"
"Don't be silly, Elliott. On these weak margaritas?"
Their fresh drinks came. Elliott watched his wife turn hers up and take a big sip from it before she started licking the salty rim. He wondered if the drinks were as weak as Ruth thought they were. He could feel a glow beginning to make itself known in his own stomach, and he could handle liquor better than Ruth. Neither of them could drink much, though, because liquor simply wasn't served often in their social circle.
"How about it, folks? You want see her monkey?"
The girl was down to high heels and G-string, holding her hands behind her head, making a lustful face and bumping in time to the throbbing drumbeat. She completely ignored the small amount of applause the emcee's question brought forth.
"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?"