She opened the door and he entered the apartment. He had a bob haircut, and smiled big, like he was trying to suffocate me with it. He stared at Natalie and snickeringly mumbled something in Thai, which made Natalie laugh. What is it? Include me! Pop turned back to me and explained that he had recently heard of a gay brothel, where all the men stand on a stage and you can point a laser to indicate which one you want.
Follow me. Pop looked at me questioningly. I puckered my lips contemplatively. The State Department had not briefed me on this issue. They deserve to be mermaids if they want. Natalie put on a face mask, handing me one after. Pop remained maskless to help build trust.
We circled around the block. We looped back around but someone else had snatched him by the time we got there. Pop buried his face in the steering wheel. After a prolonged moan, we resumed our search.
His name was Mai. Handsome, thin, kind eyes. Can this guy speak English? We arrived at the motel where the parking lot was almost full. The hostess greeted us outside. An incandescent bulb swung shyly, illuminating the hall. Doors cracked open and then slammed shut after paranoid eyes peeked out to find the coast not clear.
We got to our room. The mosquito-swarmed lights buzzed. The sheets had gone through some mileage, a Jackson Pollock with only colors that the body can produce. There were two leather love seats by the bed. Natalie and I looked at each other, trying to recollect how expensive each of our shorts was should we decide to burn them afterward. We begrudgingly sat at the very edge of the seats, minimizing contact. Pop started asking Mai questions.
