“Is there a cover tonight?” Marina asked shyly, her voice barely audible above the blasting techno music. It was dark, but a mirror ball was throwing specks of light on the walls. The boy behind the counter arched a plucked eyebrow and nodded. He had dusky pink lips and wore a skimpy yellow top.

“Yes, Friday night, with show and one drink. Twenty ringgit only.”

Marina took out her purse, ruffled her hair with her slightly sweaty palms and carefully peeled out two ten-ringgit notes. She noticed a scratch on one newly painted crimson nail and grimaced. She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

The boy gestured for her wrist and he pressed a stamp onto her skin. His hands felt cold and clammy. A yellow fluorescent skull glowed back at her.

“Enjoy!” he said in a sing-song voice.

Marina turned and saw an older man standing a few feet away and smiled at him. He eyed her from top to toe, taking in her teased hair, her high-waisted red skirt, her silver heels. He was balding, but his startling blue eyes were clear and focused. His black T-shirt was slightly bunched over his taut belly.

“Hi, I’m Marina. And you are?”

The music was loud, so she had to repeat herself.

“I am Hans, new in KL, first time here.”

She smiled at him and he responded with a toothy grin.

Marina took Hans by the elbow and together they manoeuvred their way into the narrow space filled with sweaty bodies around the dance floor. She stood taller than him. Her hips met his rotund belly, and they both giggled. The music was the latest techno and house, the stuff of all clubs. Cantaloop, the jazzy, hip-hop number, loosened hips, mouths, tongues.

Hans had his hands on her thighs, and he grabbed her waist.

“I want to fuck you, now.”

Marina was taken by surprise. She wanted to watch the drag show, but she needed the money, it would mean fifty ringgit for a blowjob in the alley at the very least.

“But Hans…” She looked toward the stage, bent down and spoke into his ear. “I want to see the show, can we fuck later?” A flicker of disappointment crossed his face.

“Sorry, but I have an early flight to catch, maybe we can meet again another time.” He grabbed her hand awkwardly, kissed it and shrugged, then shoved a name card into her hand.

Marina took his card and blew him a kiss. She had to stay, she wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “Okay, Hans, see you next time. Don’t forget me, okay?”

Marina kept dancing on her own until the music stopped and a bald Caucasian man wearing heavy make-up, a white bustier and a long hooped skirt came on stage. The crowd clapped politely. A small Chinese man, his hands folded across his waist like a Mandarin, walked in behind him and sat at the piano on the stage. They nodded to each other and the performance began.