Hard Luck for Wen Tso
Wen Tso worked her way across the main dance-floor of the Way-Down as she dodged the groping hands of the lonely and desperate on the one hand and the gyrating crowd on the other. As she did so, she marveled once more at the club's decor, a blend of arabesque, classical and post-modern which somehow complimented each other rather than looking a mishmash. The dance-floor was a cloud of constantly changing shadows under the shifting patterns of amber and lavender lights.
