Maureen began on the main floor as usual, waiting on customers, letting herself be pawed by curious hands and her body inspected by critical eyes. Her customers all eyed her with detached and uninterested gazes—at least until they had her in their laps for a closer feel.
Two hours into the night, about the time the bartender might call her to the side for a break, the customer who had last seized her, whispered in her ear, “We’ll take a room at the back.” She was on his lap, already aroused by the forceful way he fondled her. Lifting her to her feet, he rose with her. And with his hand squarely on her ass, he guided her from behind, through the tangle of tables to one of the black doors on the side of the room. Through the door, there was a corridor and the chaotic harmony of voices and
