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Show Bobbie's House of Furs 44 "Scuse me, honey, gotta get through." The waitress had a red-sequined crown pinned into her blonde curls and wore a deep-neck clinging blouse tucked into red-sequined shorts. She pushed through the crowd, flopping across- the carpet in her rhinestone mules and balancing a tray of mixed drinks over her head. Her buttocks shifted side to side and her hips swayed to the jazz combo's rendition of "Sweet Georgia Brown." Angela analyzed the sway and thought of adding i t to her modeling repertoire. She didn't seem to be doing something right. "Angela Larsen." Angela looked in the direction of the page and saw Bobbie motioning to her from the coffee shop. She seemed upset even though she tried to smile and appear calm above the microphone that she held in her hand. "And here comes Angela Larsen, one of our Las Vegas High School g i r l s ," Bobbie said with show biz in her voice. "Isn't she cute in this leopard skin bikini?" Angela didn't say "ta da" out loud as she made her debut by the cash register, though she wanted to. She posed with her elbow raised, a finger under her chin, and eyebrows arched-a study in determined professionalism. "What were you doing in the gaming area?" Bobbie said under her breath as Angela walked by. "Didn't I tell you to come to the coffee shop? Christ, you're a minor. I could get in trouble." "Notice the sheer cover that intrigues the eye and the imagination," Bobbie's public voice was throaty with a slight edge of lust on i t , "trimmed with wisps of mink, of course. What else can you expect from Bobbie's House of Furs on the Strip next to the Riviera?" |