The Stockings and Garter Club is pumping.
It's close to midnight.
Gamma watches the dance floor on a screen in her private office.
The camera pans around.
Capturing the crowd in black and white.
A mixture of mad artists, rock stars, beautiful burlesque girls and badly dressed, whiskey drinking porn actors.
The 50s retro cigar girls are doing a roaring trade tonight.
Swapping bootleg Cuban cigars for cash, smuggled in by the notorious Serbian mime artist and master criminal, Miss Fly.
Gamma is ready to party.
Dressed in a white 1940s tuxedo.
Her pink bob slicked back behind her ears and lips painted black.
She turns away from the screen.
Bends down and removes a white patent leather shoe.
A glass syringe is sitting on the desk.
It is filled with 5ml of Pretty Polly.
Gamma taps the syringe and injects the drug between her toes.
The effect is instant.
Her body starts to rattle and shake uncontrollably.
The pain is excruciating but passes within ten seconds.
Replaced with an intense tingling that surges up from her toes.
Racing through her legs.
Body and brain.
It feels like multiple orgasms.
An intense pleasure that swiftly changes again.
The final buzz is incredible.
Like if cocaine, speed, LSD and morphine got together for one outrageous party.
There is a knock at the door.
Gamma slides her shoe back on and quickly throws the syringe into a drawer.
"Enter!" She yells.
The door swings open and the six Moon Girls wander into her office.
Forming a line.
Ready for inspection.
They are wearing identical glowing white gowns.
Their bodies covered in silver paint.
Silent muses with flowing blonde hair and vacant stares.
Gamma walks up and down the line.
Her teeth chattering and pupils dilated.
The Pretty Polly is dancing through her veins.
A sudden rush of crystal clear clarity washes over her.
Her body tenses and then relaxes.
Laughter explodes from her cupid lips.
The room fills with streaky rainbow colours.
She screams at the top of her voice.
"It's showtime!"
~
A clock strikes 12.
The joint is in lock down as it is every midnight.
Gamma wanders, no, prowls, with the Moon Girls in her wake, through the crowd that resembles a bag of licorice allsorts emptied on a table.
'Cry Me A River' by Julie London, purrs through hidden speakers.
A slow running river of molten honey.
Like a drunk conversation with Kitty.
Late in the evening.
Under a full moon.
YOU ARE READING
Zana
RomanceA dark, modern fairytale with a touch of burlesque, magic and mischief.
