Eye Contact

1985, London: Taboo Club & The Box

He waited in line against a small square sign that said Caution: Nudity Inside. Through arched doors and scarlet lit walls, he saw her, bathing in an amber glow. He followed, weaving through starlets and tassels, leather and gin, red bottoms on tables and glistening skin. Inside secret rooms and black box peepholes, a masked fox danced in saffron haze. She fingered the key on a chain around her neck, he was locked in eye contact. She let a strap fall from her shoulder, the animalic sign to come. Like a bull to red silk, he was drawn. In a figment of the subconscious, reflected in infinite mirrors, a fox slayed her beast in the starless crimson light.