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They click ahead of me. Two thin women in their micro mini skirts and especially tall heels. The platinum blond stands at least six feet tall and the brunette only an inch shorter. Despite the heat and high humidity, they move in a synchronized graceful stride across the busy boulevard. Hundreds of cars crowd Tverskaya Boulevard, filling all six lanes of traffic and pumping a loud, dull white noise into the street. A man with a mullet wearing a sear-sucker suit merges through the traffic in his convertible Mercedes. Horns blare, echoing above the din and bouncing off the grey concrete and pre-Stalin ornamental buildings that tower above us.