![]() When you ask a girl to dance, she rises wearily to her feet, goes to the rack, pulls out her time card and punches the clock. The signs outside usually advertise “hostess dancing,” but history has saddled the Flamingo and other clubs like it with the less delicate phrase taxi dancing. I’m in love with you.’ I said, ‘Look, you can’t be in love with me-I’m married.’ Believe me, this isn’t any place to go looking for a girlfriend.” “He’d come in here and say, ‘Toni, I can’t help it. “Then he decided he was in love with me,” Toni continues. The men’s faces radiate a certain amount of triumph, as if they’ve won their partners over with good looks, great intellect, strength of character and charisma. They rest their heads on the men’s shoulders, forcing blissful smiles. The girls wear short, tight, low-cut dresses. In the booths and at the tables, couples cuddle in the dim light. Old, worn-out guys with faces like unmade beds drape themselves over 19- or 20-year-old girls. Most of the couples dancing match up like polka dots and plaids. Toni glances around the dance floor this blustery night. And I told him: ‘Go somewhere else and find yourself a nice girl.’ ” “He came in here wanting to find a girlfriend. She’s pleasant-looking, tall, with curly brown hair and brown eyes, somewhere in her late 20s or early 30s. “I was giving him lessons on how to talk to girls,” recalls Toni, a hostess at the Flamingo. For 35 cents a minute, he could dance with the woman of his choice and not have to worry about saying something stupid or embarrassing. So he came to the only place he knew where the women always said “yes” when he asked them to dance: Club Flamingo. To hear Toni tell it, he’d fall down at the very sight of a woman. ![]()
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