BOYS HIT STRIP CLUBS IN MATAMOROS

The girls are going through their usual gyrations as is their wont until the wee hours. Anthony Starr and Tony Gray drive south on 6th Street, well past the cathedral to Eclipse, the top titty joint in Matamoros. The girls descend like firefighters through a hole in the ceiling, shimmy down a pole and take center stage.

Tony spots a gal whose sagging breasts indicate that she has dropped more than once, but he finds her face attractive in the darkness. Tony orders Kenya a drink. She is 28 and has four kids. Her husband disappeared four years ago, another stat in the Mexican drug wars.

This is allegedly her first night at the club. For $15 Tony can have a private dance. For $150 he can have whatever he wants.

"You've got to be kidding," he thinks to himself.

Pussy is cheaper in Brownsville. He escorts her upstairs to a room that is an elegant contrast to the threadbare stalls he knows at the other Matamoros hotspots.

Kenya wriggles her tired body out of cheap clothes. Her crinkled stomach is a sad sight for a woman embarking on a career as a stripper. Tony rejoins Anthony for a last beer before they return to the American side. The dog days of summer are upon them.