Gragg looked up at the DJ tower, flickering in the strobing laser light. Mix Master Jamal was laying a trance groove. The topless go-go dancers on ten-foot pedestals danced rhythmically. Gragg smirked. The strippers weren’t so much for the teen guys as the teen girls. Suburban girls acted scandalized, but they’d tell friends who’d have to see it for themselves. Where else would girls from good families see nude dancers? In the seedy strip club on the state highway? Hardly.
