“What do you know about Madam Moselle’s?” I asked. “I used to be a waitress,” she replied. I knew she was lying. Madam Moselle had hostesses... but not waitresses. If a girl worked at Madam Moselle, she definitely was not a waitress. It was a tawdry place, one where $150 could get a guy anything he wanted if he played his cards right. I glanced over at my window shade. “It stuck,” I said. “What’s stuck?” She asked. “The shade,” I replied. “It won’t go up.” I could tell by the smirk that crossed. You've joined a special club and we're even closer now."Cecile sniffled. "Then . . . you won't tell anyone?" Of course not," Kathryn said.Cecile unleashed a high-pitched squeal then dropped the covers and huggedher."Thank you, Kathryn. I knew I could trust you."Kathryn put her arms around Cecile and held her so close their breasts weremashed together. The feeling was not unpleasant. She then raked her fingersthrough that beautiful dark hair while she waited for Cecile to stop sobbing,each step. More

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