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respectfully. Streak and Will agreed. In a fairer world, Number Four would have the plaque. But sex wins every time.
    The women in the audience were screaming “Number Three! Number Three!” I explained the facts of life to the judges. “If you don’t vote for NumberThree, you’re dead meat.” They looked out at the beer-bottle waving audience. The people had spoken, and they were pretty drunk. Number Three won.
    “Now it’s time for our Ladies in Lace!” said Sonny. This was clearly the climax of the contest. Contestant Number One was a repeat from Ladies’ Leather, the bottom-waver in chaps and a lace body stocking. The judges waved her on. Next was a woman with rippling blond hair and a ruffly sheer red gown cut to reveal red lace panties. “Yeah!” three of the judges said. They barely had time to wipe off the drool before an even more astonishing outfit paraded by—a Spandex suit cut into a spiderweb of strange and wonderful holes. She waggled her rear and the men did everything but sit up and beg.
    The Spandex Wonder was followed by a woman wearing only a black-lace body suit, cut high on the thigh. It was an awesome display of smooth skin from hip to heel. “That’s the best wax job I’ve ever seen,” I said. “That woman deserves to win for the pain endurance alone. I’d need a full anesthetic to be that hairless.” The guys didn’t get it, but the women sitting near me applauded her.
    Another contestant wore an animal-print outfit that was two strips of cloth over her bosom and one on the bottom. The three male judges looked dizzy, but Judge Will brought them back to duty. “Impressive,” he said, “but this is not the
Leopard
and Lace Ball.” They admired the view and crossed her off the winner’s list.
    The next woman belonged on a New York fashion runway. She was tall, bone thin, and bore up an intricate arrangement of leather and lace strips thatmoved every time she did. I couldn’t figure out how she kept the strategic parts covered. I had more leather on my keychain.
    The final contestant wore a body stocking made of black Harley lace. Her body was covered with lacy Harley cycles. She had the generous womanly proportions that painters in another age loved.
    The male judges were having a tough time deciding on a winner, and I wasn’t any help. “Let’s see them again,” they said. All the women paraded past and some waggled their rear ends, which thrilled three of the judges.
    And, then to my delight, the male judges chose the handsome and generously proportioned woman. She was rejected by fashion, but these male bikers saw lightning in those thunder thighs.
    “Gentlemen, I’m proud to confirm your decision,” I said.
    The loser in the lace and leather chaps was not. She snarled, “You are
all
on my shit list.”
    “I’m dead anyway,” Parker said, with resignation. “You eliminated the woman I’m sleeping with.”
    “Correction. Used to sleep with,” Streak said. Everyone laughed but Parker.
    Speaking of sleeping, it was almost two A.M . I was tired. I told Sonny and his wife Debbie good night, waved good-bye to the judges, found my purse and walked down the staircase. The night was still cold, but now, after the heat and cigarette smoke at the ball, it felt good. There was a light drizzle, and mist rose up from the rain-slicked streets.
    Just outside the Casa Loma, I saw a buxom young woman, with pale hair like a spring dandelion. Iwatched Dandelion slug a young man right in the jaw with surprising strength. Young women certainly have improved their upper body strength since I was growing up. The young man rubbed his jaw and shouted, “I said I was sorry. What else am I supposed to do?”
    Dandelion didn’t answer. Head high, she walked past him to the end of the building and turned down the alley. The off-duty cop guarding the Casa Loma door shrugged but didn’t follow her. The wide alley was lit so we could see her progress. Dandelion walked past an old garage with