The World is a drug-addictive, seductive, somewhat sleazy mind-altering scene. It has an anything-can-happen air about it, a dingy afterhours excitement. And it has Stephan Lupino. Photographer Lupino is usually there, any night, stripping girls to their garter belts in the middle of a crowd, posing them on a couch or perched on a mezzanine rail for a photo session. The dimly lit corners of the club are illuminated not only by inconsistently, irritating pinspots, but also by the intermittent strobing of Lupino’s flashes.