It was only nine, early by New York standards, but already the club was almost full. A huge bar occupied one long wall of the space with ornate iron stools perched in front of it. Along the other long wall there were a series of booths, the seats covered in what looked to be red velvet. Scattered throughout the space were tiny café-sized tables, again in wrought iron with chairs covered in red velvet cushions. It gave the place almost a boudoir feeling—decadent, sensual. “Excuse me.” A waitress pushed by Allison with a tray full of drinks for one of the booths. She stepped out of the woman’s way, her eyes widening at the uniform the waitress was wearing. The dress had a tight blue bodice with a hint of white lace peeking out along the bust line. The skirt part was flared and had layers of white lace beneath it and fell only halfway to the woman’s knees. Striped white-and-black stockings and three-inch black heels completed the outfit. It was obviously a sexy variation of Alice from the book.
