A detective swaggers down an alley that glitters with remnants of a drizzle. She wears a dark brown suit, well cut, with a steel blue button-up shirt. The street lights cast shadows down the alley. On the left street corner, the entrance to the subway is partially visible. On the right is a newspaper vendor, with a fat man sitting on a box with a small black dog barking loudly, but still wagging his tail.

Next on the right is the back entrance of theater. Blonde chorus girls are chatting and fixing make up while signing autographs and leaving with rich older men. The marquee lights peek out over the top from the front, giving a slight strobe light effect. On the left is the back of a cheap restaurant, with an overflowing trash can. As the detective gets near, the bus boy comes out with trash, and then walks over to one of the chorus girls, who just put a cigarette in her mouth. He holds out a lighter for her, and she pushes his arm away, laughing. He angrily walks towards the restaurant, bumping into the detective. She apprises him as she would a suspect, while he gives her an angry look and goes into the restaurant.

The next building on the left is unidentifiable, except for the owner's abysmal upkeep. A prostitute leans up against it. She starts to walk over to the detective, putting on her best show. She gets a foot away and stops. She stares for a minute, shrugs her shoulders, raises her head slightly, then turns on a heel and goes back to her wall. On the right is a nightclub, with a neon sign flickering, 'Gallucci's' booms the sign. On the steps leading to the nightclub, a man in his late 50's, balding, in a nice gray suit with a dark green shirt, and sage silk tie sits reading the newspaper. The detective walks up and tries to get around the man.

"Excuse me. I have business here, sir," She tells him authoritatively.

"You have business with the owner, Mr. Gallucci?"

"Yes sir, I do. Now if you don't mind-" She moves to side of the man to get to the door. He folds his newspaper into a roll and moves to block her with crossed his arms.

"You're a copper, aren't you? I can just smell you."

"I am Detective Olivia Benson, and if you don't let me by, I'll arrest you for obstruction."

He loudly snaps open the paper, and holds up the front page for her to see, 'Broadway Actress Shot and Raped.' "You here about this?"

"So what if I am?"

"You can talk to him all you want, but you won't get nothin'." The man says as he steps aside.

"Maybe I'll decide that one." She replies as she enters. She is surrounded by a dark tight hallway with swinging doors to the kitchen, washroom, and storage. As she walks toward the smoky, slightly brighter main room, jazz penetrates the air. She brushes away some of the smoke with her hand, only to find her self face to face with the moll of all molls. Dark hair is curled in marcel waves that frame a perfectly made up face. Red bow lips mouth the unsung words to the song seductively. She leans in, her tight, low backed crimson dress printed with gold lilies straining.

The moll drawls breathily, "Looking for someone?" The moll is so close that Olivia can tell everything from the perfume she wears to her choice in lingerie. For a moment, she is held in awe, not aware enough to take a breath.

Olivia takes a deep breath "Y-yes." The moll leans back, hips skewed, chest out. "I am looking for the owner, a Mr. Gallucci?"

"Mr. Gallucci doesn't like to be disturbed, but for you I'll make an exception," the grand moll replies. Olivia goes into the curtained off room. After 10 minutes or so the moll gets tired of waiting and goes into the room.

"Are you done talking to the detective, Mr. Gallucci?"

"Yes doll, I am," Mr. Gallucci's deep voice replies. He sarcastically continues, "Show him out with our gratitude."

"Oh, I will," replies the moll with a coy smile.

Olivia stands up from the table and goes toward the moll. The moll places her hand on Olivia's lower back to guide her from the room. Suspiciously, her hand remains there as they reach the main room.

"You know, no one leaves here without dancing with me," says the moll with her hands on her hips.

"You can't be serious."

"You don't think people want to dance with me?" The moll's eyes flutter between being insulted and amused.

"No, it's just… here… us … we?"

"No one knows how to say no to me, not even Gallucci. I do as please and as I see fit. Now are you going to make me lead too?"

"I've done my fair share of leading."

"Really?" The moll raises her eyebrow. "Show me," She challenges, as she walks towards Olivia, swaying her hips as she moves the rhythm of the bar's chaos. Olivia places her hands on the moll's hips and pulls the moll towards her. She firmly puts one hand on the moll's back and the other into the moll's hand. The moll moves Olivia's hand lower, so her hand hits the beginning of the curve, knowing full well that hands naturally move lower when you dance. The trumpet of Anything Goes starts their dance.