Two out of 10,'' she says, marveling at how so many people will pay so much to see so little for so short a time. Elisabeth Kemper was called ''Lis'' by her friends in the Class of 1966 at Indian Hill High School. She went to Indiana University, earned a B.A. in fine arts and spent five more years in graduate school. The phone at the lobby desk rings. It's for her husband, Richard.
Moral watchdogs say it is an affront to community standards.
Bare profits Inside the club, the music booms as the women strip. The room is half-full. Grown men watching a woman take her clothes off in front of a bunch of mirrors. She finds her husband at the bar. Straightening the collars of his Geoffrey Beene shirt and sweater, he talks about the paper he's writing on fighting fungus infections, the medical journals he reads at night, and what he likes to cook.