Chameleon by William Diehl

snapped under his breath without taking his eyes off the revolving disk.
    The tempo of the music began to pick up, and with it, the emotions of the trio. The younger man began to slow his pace as the older one increased his. The woman was being touched by four hands that seemed to explore every inch of her body, caressing her ear lobes, her eyelids, her lips, her throat.
    She was swaying back and forth and the men moved closer and began weaving with her, their hands overlapped, the tempo of the music increased and she moved with it. The faster the music, the more frenzied she became.
    Gruber appeared to be transfixed. He stared up at the disk. His lips were dry and now drops of sweat appeared along the edge of his hairline.
    Everything is possible here, he thought. It is hard to tell where reality stops and fantasy begins.
    The older man’s hand slid up under her tunic and began rubbing her stomach while the younger man’s hands encircled her breasts, never quite touching them, but tracing the outline of each through the thin gauze. She leaned back on her arms and looked down at her body and she rose slightly so the older man’s hand could slide low on her belly and he turned the hand so the fingers pointed downward and slid his hand lightly between her legs.
    She moaned and the audience reacted immediately. A murmur of whispers flooded the room.
    Gruber was hooked. Kei, standing nearby in the darkness, studied his reaction, his dry lips, the sweat on his face, his eyes, gleaming as he watched the performance.
    She moved in unison with the hand of the older man, sliding forward on it, rising slightly, letting him taunt her with his palm just barely touching her hair. The younger man finally brushed a hand across one of her nipples, then the other, and finally she reached up and pulled the straps of her tunic loose and it fell away. And then she straightened up and began stroking both her lovers and they grew under her touch.
    Kei touched Gruber’s elbow and whispered, ‘We must go now. Show over soon.’
    ‘Rate dey are going, dey vill be up dere for weeks,’ Gruber said. His blood was pounding in unison with the music.
    ‘We can come back later, see another show. Maybe tomorrow night.’
    ‘A minute more,’ Gruber whispered with irritation.
    ‘Okay, pal, it’s your grave.’
    ‘The expression,’ said Gruber without moving his eyes from the disk, ‘iss funeral. it iss your funeral, dat iss the expression.’
    All three of the performers had become extremely vocal. The woman put her hand on the older man’s land, guiding it deeper and deeper.
    Kei was not watching the show. He stared off across the room somewhere into a dark corner, waiting.
    The disk was now below the line of sight of the people in the top row. The young woman’s moves were becoming spastic. Her tight jaw line was etched in the spotlights. Every muscle in her body was taut. Suddenly she tore the older man’s loin cloth away and he sprang free and she began stroking him and both men eased her down and they lay down beside her and began kissing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, and a tight scream burst from her clenched teeth.
    ‘Pretty soon too late,’ Kei whispered
    ‘Au right, all right,’ the German growled, and Kei led him to a doorway at the side of the arena. They entered what appeared to be a large closet with a single blue light in the ceiling. A second door faced them.
    ‘Vait a minute,’ Gruber whispered. ‘Vere are you taking me?’
    ‘It’s okay,’ Kei said. ‘Health club right there, other side of door. Don’t want light in the club, okay.’
    He pulled the door shut. The music continued achingly in Gruber’s mind, although the door was thick and he could really only feel the beat of the drum now. But his concentration was shattered and he was having difficulty making the transition from fantasy back to reality. Kei opened the other door and light flooded the small room. A half-dozen steps led down to a narrow