Dony is wrapped in a pirate-themed kids' comforter, writhing in pain. "Ahhhh, Louie," she groans, thrashing her feet. Louie is clutching a tattoo machine and delivering precise jolts of misery into the 37-year-old's left shoulder. The fedora and heels in which Dony started the day are tossed to the side, but her product-heavy hair and makeup remain intact. "Ahh, Louie, wait," she demands in a sharp cry that fills the first floor of... More >>>