It was a few minutes before I saw the solitary butterfly—a black one, all on its own. Gradually, more and more slowly appeared, as if attracted out by our company (they are as reticent and hesitant as the Vienna whores, and as luridly coloured). There were not many other people there either, just me and a few other sensitive young men. The whores were sleepy and sluggish, and didn’t really want to move to get up to talk to me, preferred to stay sitting curled up with each other. They could not be bothered to uncurl themselves for me. Instead they just all watched me, curious, contemptuous, till I finished my drink and left.
The Stripper 