The Sleaze II

The Sleaze was on the top floor of the four story building.

Sandeep and Wench arrived breathless to unsettle Old Maid a little who sat behind his counter since 1970-something. He was the first to give Bombay a pub outside five star hotels. He christened it The Flip. It only had a bar and a small dance floor. Later he added a mezzanine floor, rest rooms and what he called the ‘extension room’ where there was no air conditioning save for a tall standing fan besides faux leather couches and a coffee table. He started calling the place a club and by mid eighties it had become The Sleaze. Most people had even forgotten the velvet rope they had waited before.
"The assholes." He would think.
He had gotten it from New York.
Lucky for him there was plenty of space in the hallway and he was on top of the world when he had come back.
It had been fantastic.

Old Maid stopped bothering so much after a while. There was good money in the men and women in white who kept his bread warm with butter and occasional caviar.
And the place was still gay on weekends.

"Beware. The DJ sucks." Sandeep giggled as he whispered in Wench’s ear.

Old Maid did not stare at the out of breath school girls trying not get hysterical yet. He was too professional for that. It was rush hour at 11 and he was busily issuing little tokens for 600 a piece that got you entrance and two beers.
Wench Boy had already handed Sandeep his share for he thought it proper for one of them to pay. He could not help the education he got from Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior. Besides, everybody would think he was with the cute Sandeep.

The heavy door opened and Wench Boy entered.

Sandeep was glad Donna Summer was playing. "The DJ must be on Acid." He smiled at Wench.
"Maybe he just got lucky today." Wench replied.

The first thing Wench noticed was an androgyne in jeans, and a flowing knee length skirt jumping about like a live fish salad. The walls were covered with graffiti in neon colours. The white bustiers, saris and trousers and tanks dotted the place proportionately and aesthetically amidst unwashed bag packers, mostly pudgy middle aged men and the athletic bodied, curly haired guy in an open waist coat and cowboy hat who danced in the middle of the floor, under the disco ball. He had noticed Wench as soon as he walked in. Wench did not see him till Sandeep disappeared on purpose.

Wench got a drink and danced a little dance in a corner keeping his eyes on the nipple flasher and was careful enough to stay away from the ugly and old losers as Sandeep had advised.

He pointed at Wench and beckoned him with his index finger.

Yuck!

He beckoned again.

Double Yuck!

"Hi! I am Randeep." He had to swallow his pride and come all the way to the corner just to teach this little twinkie a lesson or two.
Wench thought he heard him say Sandeep.

"What’s your name?" He whispered a wet whisper in his ear on the pretext of loud music.
Wench did not shiver.

"I am Wench Boy."

"Where are you from?" Randeep flashed a thoughtful look.

"Navabganj."

"Where is that?"

"In Uttar Pradesh."

Sandeep bit his lower lip observing the twosome.
"What idiocy is he about to commit now?" He wondered.