Taking in a determined breath, I wended my way through the testosterone-charged confluence and received a couple of well-placed slaps and pats for my effort.One man pitched forward and spilled his beer down my front.I jumped back in shock while he continued to stumble on without a word of apology.Now I wanted my freedom, bad enough to jab my fist into any crotch that stood between me and the exit.From the corner of my eye I caught a flash of neon pink and sparkling red as the next dancer strutted the runway.I thought she might be Passionette but the swirls of lights and artificial smoke that had been piped in to enhance her routine made it difficult to see beyond the edge of the runway.