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The curtain rises. Steve Merkin, the unscrupulous accountant, and John Travailleur, Esq. just another John, are seated at a bar in a seedy looking inn. Mitchell Hollywood, the adulterous innkeeper, is behind the bar. He is wearing a shabby mauve tuxedo with a green ascot. A cigarette holder is clenched between his teeth. He is wiping a dirty glass with a greasy rag. The juke box is playing a raunchy twelve bar blues number: 

"Baby said she brought a camera and we’d both enjoy the game.
Said the naughty shots excite her; not to play would be a shame.
By the time I got the picture, it turned out to be a frame..."

The juke box music fades. 

Steve: I’ll have another Spünkmeyer Mössbeck and a refill on this peanut bowl.

John: And one more double-dry martini as a comfort to my soul.

Mitchell: Both those ships are coming in on the tide. And since you’re taking your leisure, let me serve as your guide. 

John: What entertainment do you aim to provide?

Mitchell: The choice of diversions is yours to decide.

Steve: Would foxy delights be found on the tour?
 
Mitchell: If that’s your intention, then sure.

Steve: As a frugal accountant with ledgers to keep, I will enter my interest, so long as she’s cheap.
 
John: …also suitably handsome.

Steve: …shouldn’t cost me a ransom.
 
John: Describe what affair would be quick to arrange.

Steve: And avail us your rate of exchange.

Mitchell: Since you’re here to talk business, I’ll get right to the point. Most plans are obsolete as soon as they’re approved. Pimping may require a fair degree of artistry, but I have it down to a science. You could call it an algorithm. The cost of the date is determined by the grade of the girl you select.

Steve: Explain yourself, sir.

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