It's about five o'clock in the morning ( Read more... )

Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome...
Fremde, etranger, stranger...

I knew a woman in London once. She was tall, blonde, a stage actress. She was also a star, but she didn't know it yet, and denied it when I told her that she was indeed something bright and beautiful.

I met her after a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. She played an exquisite ( Read more... )

The Emcee steps out onstage wearing a frayed old military jacket over his spangled bow tie and tuxedo trousers. With a nearly microscopic smirk, he casts his darkly shaded eyes over the audience. Nobody in uniform. Good.

The band starts up. And he begins to sing -- in French.

Tout nu dans ma serviette qui me servait de pagne ( Read more... )

A man of about thirty years of age, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, with sharply handsome features, approaches the Kit Kat Klub in the middle of the day. A breeze whips the hem of his unbuttoned wool overcoat around his legs. His steps are careful, cautious, almost hesitant and wary, as if someone he knew might catch him lurking. Sidling up to the window ( Read more... )

Gulping down her third gin of the evening Sally sets the empty glass down atop a prop table as she waits within the tiny dark wings of the Kit Kat Klub stage ( Read more... )

For some reason or another, the Klub was quieter tonight than it had been in a while. Maybe it was reality seeping in through the door, or something important happening somewhere in Berlin. Whatever it was, they were unaware of it - or pretended to be. It was their job to pretend - to make the customer forget or laugh at their troubles, even if ( Read more... )

Green fingernails scratch and tug at the heavy street doors of the Kit Kat Klub.

Well, really! When did they start bothering to LOCK these doors?

Huffing and blowing a blonde curl from her eyes, the familiar woman-wearing an unfamiliar grey fur coat-straightened her small decorative hat and snatched up a large carpet bag from the sidewalk.

Someone ( Read more... )

Perched at the bar alone, for the moment, Dolores Marroquin nursed the last of a glass of red wine someone had bought her and watched the band onstage through the haze of her own cigarette smoke ( Read more... )

But a boss is supposed to be able to pay his employees on payday -- and on a payday before the holidays, no less. They would rend me to pieces if they didn't adore me so much. Ha ( Read more... )

Frenchie had been gone too long, hanging by the docks, listening to cautionary tales of butchers and barbers. Frenchie with her dark magic, how her thighs defeated armies of kings, how her lips poisoned the most devout church-going boys. She glides into the Klub with a sangria sway in her hips, catching the chorus of a sensual mid-tempo jam on ( Read more... )