Elsa

We get into a taxi and drive to one of our favorite venues downtown.

When we get out of the car, at least a hundred people are queuing outside the club. Rita ostentatiously passes the whole crowd, making her way straight to the red line, and kisses the woman standing guard at the entrance.

She unpins the rope blocking the passage inside, and later we are both in, greeted by the owner’s wife, Monika. She fastens VIP armbands on our wrists.

“You look gorgeous,” Rita says to the woman, who waves a hand dismissively but smiles.

“You always say so.” The cute brunette laughs and shakes her head. “That’s...