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.
"Take us to one of those special shows, driver."
"Si, senor."
"Wait!" Ruth shouted, jerking up straight in the seat.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"I can't go, Elliott. I just can't do it."
"I thought we'd already decided."
"But what if I'm the only American woman there? Oh, I'd be embarrassed to death!"
"I hadn't thought of that." Elliott leaned forward. "Driver, do many people like us go to these shows?"
"Many, senor," the driver assured.
"How big a crowd is there, usually?"
"No crowd. You and your lady will be the only watchers. Very private shows. Any kind you want see."
"What do you think, Ruth?"
"Just the two of us?"
"Yes, ma'am," the driver said, turning to look at her.
"Where?"
"In a room. Just you and your gentleman… and the performers of your choice, of course."
"Oh that sounds altogether too intimate," she protested weakly.
The driver shrugged. "You'll be at one end of the room, on a couch; the performers will be on the bed at the other end of the room."
"It sounds safe enough," Elliott said.
"Si. Thousands of couples like you have seen such shows. They are very popular with American couples."
"It's entirely up to you, honey," Elliott said.
"It still sounds awfully intimate that way."
"It sounds like the best possible way to see a show like that, as far as I'm concerned. Nothing could be more private."
"Very private," the driver said.
Ruth sat back. "All right. Let's go."
The taxi left the well-lighted main street and for about five minutes Ruth and Elliott sat holding hands in silence, watching the darkened buildings slip past them. They left the paved streets and onto dirt ones, the buildings growing smaller and shabbier and the milling tourists disappearing entirely. The area they were moving into was well off the beaten path, and Ruth and Elliott grew somewhat nervous. "Where are you taking us?" Elliott demanded. "To a private club, senor. We are almost there."
"Why is it so far away from the main part of town?"
"These shows are not exactly legal."
"Oh my God!" Ruth gasped. "The police… is there any danger of a raid?"
The driver laughed. "No danger. The police know. They bother nothing so long as the owner pays and leaves his club where it is."
Ruth put her face close to Elliott, whispering, "Remember that for your book."
He nodded, patting her arm as the cab bounced to a stop in front of a building which appeared to be empty. "It looks like an old store building."
Many taxis were parked along both sides of the narrow dirt street. The driver shut off his lights and engine. Darkness enveloped them instantly, but they could hear music coming from the building. Ruth and Elliott sat stiffly as the driver got out and came around the cab to open the door for them.
"Come on. I take you in. I wait for you… take you back to town when you're ready."
"I'm not as brave as I thought," Ruth whispered.
"You want to back out?" Elliott asked, half hoping that she would.
"No. We're here. Let's go in." She laughed nervously. "I'm more curious than yellow, I guess."
"Nothing to worry about," the driver said.
"He keeps saying that," Ruth mumbled, letting Elliott help her from the cab, her dress hiking up her legs nearly to her hips, giving the driver a good view of her creamy thighs.
"He ought to know, honey."
"I suppose," she said, standing on the dirt street, smoothing her dress. "My mind believes him… wish my stomach would too."
The driver shut the taxi door and hurried past them to knock on the heavy door to the building. Like something out of the American Twenties, a small door within the door opened and a serious male face peered out. The face recognized the taxi driver. The door swung open to admit them, the music loud as it rushed out with a gust of smoky, perfume-laden air.
The driver smiled and motioned for them to enter. Elliott cleared his throat. Ruth clutched his hand, holding it tightly, walking close to him on unsure legs as they went inside.
It was a bar, very dimly lit and fairly large, with tables at one end of the room and chairs along a wall. The chairs faced the long bar. Girls sat in the chairs, smoking and talking, eyeing the men, mostly American soldiers, who sat at the bar. The girls all had one thing in common – they were pretty and young and eager.
"This way, please," the driver said, motioning them to follow him to the table area.
Still clutching his hand securely, Ruth moved alongside Elliott toward the tables. She felt a thousand eyes boring holes all over her body. They had to walk between the girls in the chairs and the men at the bar. The men eyed her up good, but none of them made a pass or said anything out of the way. Strangely, it was the girls who bothered Ruth. Some of them glared at her fabulous shape with envy; some of them appeared amused at her presence; but one girl in particular upset Ruth.
"Hello, baby," the Mexican girl said in a throaty voice, her young eyes dancing with more than casual interest as Ruth swept past. "You want make some hot love with me?"
Ruth glanced at her, feeling suddenly dizzy as she looked into the soft, smiling face. The girl couldn't have been more than eighteen, and she was as beautiful as any Hollywood starlet. The girl pursed her full lips and rubbed teasingly at her loins.
Her mouth hanging open in shock, her knees threatening to buckle at any second, Ruth ripped her gaze from the hungry-eyed girl and hurried Elliott on toward the tables.
The taxi driver pulled out a chair for Ruth, holding it and easing it to the table as she sat down. Somehow his mannerly act made her a bit less apprehensive, but she noticed her voice quavering as she mumbled, "Thank you."
The driver stood patiently, smiling as Elliott seated himself. "I get the manager for you. You want a drink, maybe?"
"I think we've had enough to drink already," Elliott said.
"One more, please," Ruth said, taking Elliott's hand under the table. "I need it for my nerves."
Ruth's hand was damp and trembling. Elliott gave it a reassuring squeeze and nodded to the driver.
As the driver walked away, Ruth asked, "Elliott, what kind of place is this?"
Watching a girl lead a grinning soldier in from the hallway at the back, he said, "Don't look now, sweetheart, but I think we're in a Mexican whorehouse."
Ruth's eyes grew wide and her breath sucked in harshly. A shudder passed through her. "In a whorehouse?"
"I think so. I guess it's the logical place really, considering the type of show we came to see."
"I'm scared, Elliott. We shouldn't be here."
"No, we shouldn't. But since we're here, we might as well stay and see the show, don't you think?"
"I don't know what to think. I'm not thinking very well tonight – period. All I seem able to do is feel, and right now I feel threatened."
"How so?"
"For God's sake, Elliott… sitting here in a whorehouse… with all those men? I am a woman, you know."
Elliott chuckled. "And the best-looking one in the place."
"What if one of those men tries to…?"
"Relax, darling. They wouldn't dare. You're a customer."
"I don't like it. It makes me nervous!"
"You'll be all right when we get in the private room."
"I suppose… but I feel so strange."
"Yeah, me too," Elliott admitted.
Then the bartender was standing beside their table, asking, "What would you folks like to drink?"
"I'll have another margarita," Ruth whispered to Elliott.
"Two margaritas, please."
"One for your driver?" the bartender asked, pointing to the bar where the driver sat waiting for them.
"Of course," Elliott said. "Give him whatever he wants."
"Your driver has spoken to the manager. He said to tell you he'd he with you shortly."
"Thank you."
As the bartender left their table, Ruth whispered, "He speaks awfully good English."
"I imagine he's been talking to Americans every night for at least twenty years, from me looks of him."
"These poor girls," Ruth said, glancing at the row of young whores but dropping her gaze instantly when she noticed the one who'd spoken to her smile and tease the tip of her tongue over her heavily lipsticked lips. "Elliott, that girl over there… did you hear what she said to me?"
"I heard."
"Isn't that terrible?"
"Yes."
"What she suggested is so perverted. I can't imagine anything like that actually happening."
"Oh, those kinds of things happen, all right. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that she's made love with lots of curious American women."
"Well, don't look at me like that. I'm certainly not curious. Just the thought of such a horrid thing as she proposed petrifies me. Here comes our drinks… good."
As soon as the bartender had placed her drink before her, Ruth picked it up and took a big sip. "Could you please hurry the manager a little?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll see what I can do," the bartender answered, calmly making change for Elliott as he spoke. "He's with a very important gentleman, from Panama, I think: but I'll tell him you wish to see him now."
"Thank you."
"Yes, ma'am," the stoical bartender said, and when Elliott gave him a dollar tip, he added, "And thank you, sir."
Two giggling girls and a serious-faced soldier moved past their table, heading for one of the rooms at the back of the building. The jukebox played constantly but no one danced, even though there was room for it. The men sat at the bar and the girls in their chairs, each group talking among themselves, the girls casting inviting glances at the men.
Only two of the tables were occupied – Ruth and Elliott at one, and three men and a woman at the other. Elliott's back was to the other table, but Ruth had a clear view of it. She watched the bartender move to it and speak to one of the men. Then he pointed at her and all of them looked. She felt like crawling under the table. The dark-skinned woman was dressed like a male flamenco dancer, but she wore no hat. Her black hair was done up in a bun, making her thin lips and high cheekbones appear even thinner and higher. The way she looked at Ruth unnerved her. She felt herself being devoured by the woman's dark, cruel eyes. And the slender man she seemed to be with looked even more menacing, despite the smile that crept over his face as he appraised Ruth. The massive Negro threw her only a brief glance before he turned back to his drink. The other man, plump, middle-aged and typically Mexican, got up and came toward their table as the bartender returned to his work.
"I am Carlos, the manager. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Your driver told me of your desire. Come. Bring your drinks. We will take a room and talk in private."
Smiling ingratiatingly, Carlos pulled back Ruth's chair as she got up with her drink in one hand and Elliott's hand in the other. They followed Carlos toward the back, passing close to the other table, so near that Ruth thought she heard the woman say, "That one would be perfect to replace Rose, don't you think, Pico?" And then, as they moved into the hall, a male voice saying, "Muy bonita. So blonde… so fair!"
But she wasn't sure she'd heard anything, for her mind was reeling from the open lust in the handsome man's dark face as he stripped her with his evil eyes when she swept past their table holding tightly to Elliott's hand.
Carlos stopped before a door and opened it cautiously, peering inside before he swung it wide and motioned them to enter. "Very private in here. Sit down, please… there, on the couch."
It was a small room. The ancient, wrought-iron bed with its sagging mattress and faded bedspread took up most of the space. The couch and an easy chair sat on a foot-high platform, so as to give a good view of the nearby bed.
Ruth set her jaw determinedly, allowing Elliott to help her onto the platform and sitting down with him in the center of the couch. The bed loomed up at her, looking large and lewd all by itself.
Carlos took the easy chair, leaning forward to offer cigarettes which Ruth and Elliott both refused. "You want to buy some hot movies to take home?"
"No."
"Pictures or books? I got good ones."
"No."
"Just a show?"
"That's all."
Carlos grinned and shrugged. "We got good hot shows. Anything you like. What you like to see?"
"We don't have any idea," Elliott said.
"Well, we got nearly everything. I can give you a man and woman; two women; two men; one woman with two men or one man with two women; a woman with a big dog; a man wi…"
"A woman and a dog?" Ruth gasped, almost choking on a sip of her drink.
"Si, senora," Carlos grinned. "All for real, too. No put on. The girl is only sixteen, very beautiful. She really loves her dog. She is a farm girl from the back country. The dog is her own, and she do everything with him."
"A woman and a dog," Ruth said again, numbly.
"Well, not really a woman. She's just a girl."
"That sounds disgusting," Elliott muttered.
"A woman and a dog!" Ruth exclaimed. "I've never heard of anything so dirty!"
"We don't want that," Elliott said. Then he turned to Ruth. "But we should see something different… something perverted, to make my book more powerful. How about the two girls?"
"Oh, no," Ruth protested. "Not two girls."
"No," Elliott snapped. "Just the idea of two men turns my stomach."
Carlos laughed. "Mine too… but some like to see it."
Elliott made a face of distaste and shook his head vigorously.
"A woman and a dog," Ruth mumbled to herself.
Carlos took a cigarette from his pack and lit it. Exhaling, he said, "The dog is rested. He no fuck any so far today."
"Elliott, I can't believe a woman and a dog."
"They make you a good hot show," Carlos grinned. "You ever see a dog hump a woman, senor?"
"Certainly not."
"Something to see. Everybody ought to see it once before they die."
"I believe my wife and I can live quite well withou…"
"How much?" Ruth broke in.
"Fifty dollars."
"Pay him, Elliott."
"Ruth, you can't be serious."
"You can't stomach the men, and I absolutely refuse to watch two women. You want something perverted and dirty to write about, don't you? What in the world could be more perverted than a girl having sex with an animal?"
"Well… if you think you can stand to watch it."
"I can't believe it," she said. "It horrifies me. If you want to know the truth, it fascinates me… and I bet it will fascinate everyone who reads your book."
"Do you really think so, honey?"
"I'd bet on it. I've got to see it. It'll probably make me ill… but I've still got to see it, Elliott."
"All right," Elliott said, getting out his wallet and giving Carlos the money. "We'll see the girl and her dog."
"A good choice," Carlos assured. "You just relax. I'll have them here in a jiffy." He stood, counting the money before he put it in his pocket. "You want another drink sent in?"
"No, thank you."
"Okay, give me a couple of minutes. I get them in here as soon as possible for you." He paused at the door. "The girl, she is very new here… speaks no English."
"We didn't come for conversation," Elliott said.
"I only tell you so you don't get angry if you ask her something and she no answer. If you speak Spanish to her, she answer you; but she no understand much English. Okay?"
"Okay. Just get them. I'm anxious to have it over with and get out of here."
Carlos stepped into the hall and shut the door. He hurried toward the main room, hoping to find Carmelita sitting unoccupied in one of the chairs facing the bar. He was barely inside the room when Pico called: "Carlos. Come here."
He approached their table unsurely.
"Sit down, my friend."
"I must take care of a business matter first. Then I come right back."
"Sit down, Carlos. We did not finish our business yet."
Carlos shifted uneasily under Pico's unblinking gaze. "Bu…"
"Sit down!"
Perspiration wetting his palms, his upper lip twitching slightly, Carlos jerked out a chair and sat down.
"That's better." Pico smiled. "All I require at the moment is a little information and a tiny favor."
Carlos nodded, trying to return Pico's smile.
"The gringos you just took in the back. Why are they here?"
"They come for a show," Carlos said. "I was going for Carmelita. They want to see her with the dog."
Pico's hard eyes danced with interest. "Which one asked for the animal show?"
Carlos shrugged. "The man paid me."
"The woman, la rubia, did she show much interest?"
"Si, more than the man."
Pico looked at the woman beside him, both of them nodding.
"Esa gringa es muy hermosa. Verdad?"
"Si," Carlos hastened to agree. "Ella es mucha mujer."
Grinning, Pico took out a thin, black cigar from his pigskin case, licked it, bit off the end and spat it out, then lit it. "The room they are in has a peephole?"
"Si, Pico."
"The peephole is mine. I will spy on la rubia while she watches the dog fuck your Carmelita."
"Buy why?"
"You are not going to question me, are you, my friend? There is still that unfinished business between us…"
Pico bowed mockingly. "Gracias, amigo. Now, hurry and give the gringos their show."