Loki makes sure his suit is immaculate for their night out. He insists that Thor wear a suit as well and he brushes his brother's hair and tidies the braids holding back the shorter strands, weaving them into the cords holding back the length. Then he allows Thor to brush back his until it is smooth and soft , braiding back the hair above his ears in fine plaits so tiny they can hardly be seen once they are pulled back and tucked behind his ears. He sighs, unsatisfied with how it falls behind his shoulders.

"I should cut it, shouldn't I?"

"Your hair is fine, Loki. I can tie it back if you would like."

"No. Leave it free."

"Then don't complain about it. We've had this conversation before."

"Yes we have. Now get your hands off me." He stands and smooths his jacket, "There. Now. Are you ready?"

Thor nods, "As soon as I have my shoes on."

"Then hurry. I want to be there on time. Do you know where we are going?"

"Yes. Maybe. I asked Tony to send a car. He has so few of our friends with him now."

"Your friends, Thor. None of them are mine."

"That could change.'

"Thor, I tried to kill them. That doesn't engender goodwill. I somehow doubt your sunny optimism is realistic."

"We will see who brings the car."

"Yes, well, you did say it was for the both of us, right?"

"I did."

"Ah. Then perhaps it will come."

They get down to the lobby of Thor's apartment building and his phone chirps, "Car's here." They step out to a sleek black car.

The window lowers and they see Natasha in the driver's seat, her hair and makeup crisp, "Get in the car, boys."

Loki sits in the back seat, Thor up front, "Good evening, Nat! Do you know this place?"

Loki passes up the card, "This is what we were given."

"Oooo, Violetta. Yeah, I know the place. You boys aren't going to know what hit you."

"There will be hitting? Should we have not worn the suits?" Thor asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes, "No, Thor. No hitting. Well. At least not unless it's part of the show. I don't think that's tonight's theme, though."

Loki tries to pretend he is bored, but it is very hard to do when his brother is so clearly curious about what they are going to see, "Theme?"

"Oh, I'm not giving away the surprise." She passes the card back to Loki and shifts the car in gear. She's gone a few blocks before she asks another question, "So...tell me about the woman who gave you that."

Loki shrugs, "Why? She was a perfectly normal woman. Nothing remarkable about her at all."

She laughs, "None of the women at Violetta's are unremarkable. Describe her."

"Dark hair. Sheer shirt. Long skirt. All black. Except her painted nails. Red to match the card."

"Tattoos?"

"On her arms."

"Did her earrings match?"

"No."

Natasha smirks, "You're in for a treat tonight."

Thor raises an eyebrow, "What sort of establishment is this. And what do you know of Violetta?"

"The woman you met...she's good. Very good. Just wait. You'll see."

They reach the street with a few minutes to spare. Natasha steps out of the car and Loki notices she is dressed as well as they are- her well tailored suit hugs her curves. She waits for Thor and Loki to join her. She loops an arm on Thor's.

"Oh?"

"Trust me. Its more fun this way. Walk me in."

They reach the door of a nondescript brick storefront. Loki holds the door. Natasha enters as a queen. They pass through a plain white room and to a set of rich, dark, heavy wooden double doors less than ten feet from the entrance. She presses the buzzer.

"Do you have a card?"

She holds out her hand to Loki. He gives her the business card and she holds it up to a camera. The door buzzes and two men glistening in gold body paint over bronze skin step out and hold it open for them. They wear only a draping cloth that covers their crotches. Nothing on the back. Natasha seems to expect this as she loops her arm through Loki's and walks with them both into a large opulent lobby, red curtains separating them from whatever is happening inside. Natasha walks up to the ticket counter and pushes the business card across the counter to the woman behind it. She inspects it and holds it up to the light. Satisfied it is genuine, she hands them a black envelope.

Natasha glances from Loki to Thor, "One of you boys needs to take that." Thor obediently does. "Open it." He does. Three tickets, the same red as the card, stamped with a number. The woman behind the counter hands back the business card. Loki takes it without being asked and tucks it back in his jacket pocket. It is valuable. He wonders just what riches these security measures protect. It wouldn't be hard for someone like him to come in without it, though. Human protections are only so good as the humans guarding them. And to him, humans are of little worth as guards. They are such fragile things.

Natasha checks the number and leads them down a side hallway. Another mostly naked man stands at the end. He looks at their tickets and takes them to a curtained doorway. He pulls back the drape and they step into a dimly it theatre surrounded by tables draped in the same dark red as the rich velvet curtains concealing the stage. There are black metal numbers standing at the centre of each table. Natasha points theirs out and they sit.

"Why all this secrecy?" Thor asks, "Is there some great treasure concealed behind the curtain?"

"Keep your voice down. Don't break the atmosphere."

He lowers his voice, "You did not answer my question."

"And I won't. That would also break the atmosphere. You're supposed to be intrigued. Curious. The white entry, the doors, the card, the curtains...it's all supposed to make you wonder."

"You have been here before."

"Oh, yes. Yes I have. It's a wonderful place, if you're looking for a certain something. And if you're not, it's still pretty fascinating. I'll be interested to see how you boys react."

Loki raises an eyebrow, "It is some sort of trial?"

The lights dim and the other patrons hush as she leans in and whispers, "For some men, it's a trial in self control."

The entire room goes dark and Loki hears the big travelling curtain glide aside, parting in the middle, sweeping upward. A single spotlight snaps on, the sound reverberating through the auditorium. There is a red haired woman in the middle of the stage in a glittering long crimson dress that hugs her curves and pools around her feet. Her hair is coiffed like some of the pictures Thor has shown him of woman from Captain Rogers' time. In the silence, she slowly draws long velvet red gloves down her arms, her movement slow, deliberate. The first one falls from her fingers and she drops it to the stage. Then the second. She steps forward to a microphone that rises out of the stage and the dress parts, a split clear up the front of one thigh.

"Welcome, one and all, to Violetta's house. We ever endeavour to entertain and amuse, perhaps even to stimulate a little something between friends and lovers. Indulge yourselves, if you will, in our scenes, for what is this night about if not indulgence?" The spotlight snaps off.

When the stage warms with an amber glow, there are women in black with books lounging on pillows. Another group of women, also in black, forms a small orchestra. They begin to play, slow, sensual songs that move their bodies in graceful curves. The book women move with them. One of them unbuttons her blouse. Another slides down her skirt. And one removes opera gloves. And then, in their partial states of undress, they slowly strip the orchestra, kissing and caressing as the music plays. When the musicians do not stop playing, the other women finish undressing each other, a slow tease that brings them eventually back to their cushions and their books. They settle into their seats and return to reading. The orchestra stops playing and the lighting shifts, darkening the book women, illuminating the orchestra as they leave their music to be a part of the next scene. The lights follow them to a ballet. Scene after scene of young women elegantly undressing in everyday artistic situations, from painting to shadow play to acrobatics on a pipe-built stage set, leads to the final act. A woman in a large glass tub in an evening gown, black hair in a tight twist. It rains on stage. The bodies around her dance and bow, priestesses of art itself in sheer, clinging robes who worship the woman in the gown, her tulle skirt floating in the water, her legs exposed as she moves, graceful. Little by little, she removes layers and tosses them to priestesses who place them on a metal frame. Black lace and tulle. She removes the skirt and the priestesses raise it behind her as a black backdrop to her near nudity. Her priestesses remove the black bra and kiss her, lifting her from the water.

She stands on their shoulders and poses, an alabaster statue, before the entire stage goes dark. The red curtain slides closed and the house lights come up to half.

Natasha looks between the brothers, "So. What did you boys think?"

Thor clears his throat, "I think I rather suddenly need a girlfriend."

She nearly snorts, laughing, and then turns to Loki, "And you?"

"I'm not entirely sure what I just saw, but it was quite daring."

"Daring? That's all you've got?"

"Yes. And yourself?" He keeps his mask in place, determined not to react to the overt and artistic sexuality on stage.

"I'm with Thor. I think I need a girlfriend."

Loki raises an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Don't be getting any ideas, Mister Illusionist."

"Too late." For half a second, there is a woman in Loki's place in a trim black suit, long hair down her back. She winks. And then the illusion is gone.

Thor raises an eyebrow, "Do I need to leave you two to yourselves this evening?"

"Nope. Illusion doesn't count."

He turns to Loki, "So which girl was the one you met in the coffee shop? There were many with dark hair and you have a far better memory for faces at this distance."

"The woman in the tub."

"The one it appeared they were worshipping at the end?"

"Yes." He turns to Natasha, "Her name?"

"Violetta. This is her place. She's good. Very good. And you should see her when she's doing her kink show. There aren't many women who can make latex look as incredible as she does."

"Kink?" Thor asks.

Natasha laughs, "Oh, god...I guess we'll have to come back. Maybe latex and whips will get Loki excited."

He forces a smile and shakes his head, "No, I don't think so. Probably remind me too much of having been actually imprisoned and whipped in a dungeon."

She winces, "Oooo, sorry."

"I am surprised Thor hasn't bragged of my capture enough that it was impossible to forget."

"You know, 'my baby brother ended up going evil and attempting genocide because we fucked up raising him' doesn't really turn into bragging," Natasha says, "So no. We don't really talk a whole lot about that."

"Ah."

Loki nods to Thor, "Then thank you for small mercies."

"You are welcome."

Natasha gestures to a curtained door, "Come on. Let's go see Vi."

"You know her?" Thor asks.

"Yeah. We go way back. Back so far we were ballerinas together as kids."