The formula ran like this, a dancer would approach a patron with a light touch to their shoulder, a soft suggestive caress. Introductions would follow... Jozef knew enough to know that the dancer’s rarely used their real names and a few minutes of small talk would ensue. Finally, a private dance would be suggested and it was about a fifty/fifty split as to whether that dance would be accepted. Variations might occur from time-to-time, but that was the basic premise. Eventually, the dancer’s found. Atrus didn't move. He didn't want to look for trouble, not just yet."Come on, Fred, perhaps it's only a pair of dumb, ugly baboons making love behind the bushes..." NOBODY CALLED ME BABOONS!!!" Atrus found himself saying.Then he realized that the bandits were staring at him, awed by his 'sudden' appearance."Um ... sorry, folks, I just passed by ... Please continue... ?"The girl looked at Atrus with her pleading eyes. His heart was touched by her plea."Well, boy? We're busy here. Why don't you. More

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