“Now, the skirt,” Wally yelled. “Take off the fuckin’ skirt!”
“Pussy...let’s see some p***y!” someone else shouted.
Once more, Kathy glanced down at Stein but Cordelia yelled, “Don’t look at him. You do what I say, and I’m saying strip.”
Not able to hold back the tears, Kathy began to unfasten the clasps at her waist. There were four, the last just a few inches below her crotch. Still moving back and forth across the front of the stage in time with the music, she started with that one. As she unhooked each clasp, the men pounded on their tables and cheered. Just when the final sad, mournful phrases of “Love for Sale” ended, Kathy’s skirt settled to the floor. She stopped and, brushing the tears from her cheeks, bowed her head. The men applauded and yelled.
“Look at that pretty shaved c
