In a corner, a g-stringed waitress was vainly slapping at the wandering hands of her customer. Another waitress was leading one of the customers behin... a velvet curtained barrier in the rear.“Is this a brothel?” Amy asked.‘From what I have heard, this is a pretty typical strip club in Montmartre,” Margaret replied.“How would you know?” asked an incredulous Amy.“Just pay attention. I think we may be joining those girls soon.” Margaret said.Amy winced. “No I won’t do it.” Amy declared.“I’ve seen. “Don’t worry. Nobody will see you walk across camp,” she said, waving her cell phone in Layla’s direction. “Samantha is with the other campers and she’ll phone me . . . if anyone heads back to camp.”Layla was still unsure and stood motionless, which seemed to upset the girl. Not wanting to infuriate Scarlett any further, Layla tried to reason with the girl. “Scarlett. I’ll forget about everything. I’ll forget about everything that happened here. . . and won’t. More

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