The Master of Ceremonies

[Continued from here...]

The door opens to a backstage area, where rousing, brassy music and the sound of dancing on wooden floorboards can be heard. It's dimly lit, narrow and close, with sequined and feathered costumes hanging randomly on light fixtures, trunks full of shoes, hats, and props left open against the walls. The other dressing rooms are just down the hall. The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat pervades the air.

The Emcee leads his new friend Alfred Spangler down a smoky corridor, the music growing louder and louder. They stop in the wings where they can see the main room of the club.

To their left is the stage, where five women are doing high can-can kicks while wearing nothing but silky underpants, brassieres, and fishnet stockings. The band at the rear of the stage isn't dressed much more fully than the dancers (neither is the waitstaff). Hollering, wolf-whistles, cheering, hearty clapping come from the audience, made up of people from every walk of life. They are seated at tables lit by little lamps, their shades red and fringed, a table number on a tag on the top. There is a telephone on each table as well.

Over the music and the noise, the Emcee turns to Alfred to say into his ear, his lips nearly brushing his skin, "What do you think so far, mein Herr?"