Sex Menu (from Prague chapter)
It all started when we were sold some bad grass. Well, bad pot. It looked like pretty good grass. We talked about going back, but no one else went. Jim was restrained by Lissa, and Marshall conformed, but I felt compelled to confront the kid who shafted us out by that stupid tourist-trap astrological clock. Plus, I wanted to see some of Prague’s nightlife.
Back on the street I noticed an odd shift of atmosphere. Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe it was just getting late and the decent tourists had all gone to bed, but the people still prowling seemed a little more sinister and a lot more drunk. The bright Casino neons flashed on each block as I walked down the main road, most stores were closed but it was still busy on the street, and the vendors were peddling alcohol and sausages. I left the main road and ducked through a couple of alleyways. I was accosted by several beggars claiming one disability or another, and found myself on a side street overlooking the clock tower plaza.
I didn’t see the kid who conned us yet, and decided to not go into the thick of the crowd before scoping it out. I was immediately struck by the transfer of crutches from one of the begging cripples to another. The man who was previously crutched walked calmly, easily I might add, over to three men who were selling various light-producing toys. I saw them talk for a moment, then one handed something to the now ex-disabled guy, and he wandered off into the crowd. I thought of following him, but decided to keep my distance, and watched the three with the lights. Within minutes other people – flower girls, teenagers all with off-white sweaters, cripples, beggars, old, young – came to these men, had a short conference, and were off with new assignments.
I opened my sights to the whole crowd, and was amazed at a huge ring of deceit and con-artistry. I realized half the town must be in on the scam, and that it revolved around the men selling small bright lights. Some of the hustlers focused on the drug crowd; people who would buy sealed packages with supposed pot inside, and actually trust you without opening them. The other rubes, the other sideshow suckers, were marked by trinket peddlers and panhandlers. I saw all
this.
I was drunk and had left everything at the Shelter but the group’s one set of keys. I left pissed, but the insight to Prague’s nightlife was worth the money taken, so when I saw my kid I decided to leave him alone in lieu of some fun. I passed a strip club and joined a group of Englishmen who drunkenly paid for my admittance. The dark club was upstairs, and at its entrance was a second spiral staircase heading up. I didn’t have a dime. I took someone’s discarded drink and sat in the back to avoid being bothered by those wanting to solicit me.
The place was small, just one big room with the stage and a service bar in the back. I wasn’t far from anything. The DJ in the corner played horrible American pop with that thumping beat Europeans seem to love. The waitress meandered the room making sure all the men were well stocked, while strippers rotated dancing to short songs, first topless, then for a second they were fully nude at the end. Then they dressed and walked the room looking to sell something from the menu. I took a look at it while observing the dancers propositioning the rich English blokes. Some of the men occasionally walked out with a girl and up the second staircase, while others settled for expensive lap dances. Some of the items on the menu were: Lesbian Show; Fruit Show; Tequila Show; and others. I couldn’t figure what the Banana Autoerotic Show was all about. The first girl came over.
“You like somethink from that?”
“They’re interesting.”
“You want somethink?” She sat beside me. “Somethink from me?”
“No, I can’t.”
“You sure?” She bit her lip. “You are cute. Where you from?”
“The States.”
“You not seem like it.”
“I get that a lot out here.” I swallowed. She was one of the cuter girls in there, and I was suddenly very glad I didn’t bring any money. “I can’t, really.”
She stood up without a word.
It went on like this for a while; each new girl came over when the rich blokes were occupied, and I dismissed each one with pitiful kindness. Finally, the hen mother came my way. She was older, maybe in her forties, but not unattractive, and with a regal aura when she talked. She walked over with a pleasant smile.
“You want go upstairs?”
“Uh…”
“Good massage, great ending. Maybe sex.”
“No, that’s alright.”
“You not like women?” She coolly grinned with her baiting.
“Cute. Yes, I like women. I just don’t have any money tonight. What I can do is...um...what’s your name?”
“Vetania.”
“Vetania. How d’ya spell that?”
I brought out a pen and she wrote ‘THTIANA’ on a napkin off the table. I looked at it for a second.
“Pronounced Ve-ta-nia?” She nodded. “Okay. Where are you from, Vetania?”
“Russia.” She looked around the room. “Most girls are from Russia. She is from here, from Praha.” She pointed at the long blonde dancing naked. The song ended and she gathered everything to run back and change. I watched her jiggle out the door.
“You like?” I turned, remembering the older Russian beside me. “What can you do?”
“What?”
“You said you can do something. What can you do?”
“Oh, right. Turn around.” She turned away from me, trusting, and I ran my fingers up the muscles of her spine like a heavy tarantula. When I felt a knot, and there were many, I paused to focus on it. Like all dancers, her back was messed up beyond repair, with deep-rooted tension from the strains and physical stresses of her profession. She melted at my handy work.
“Tell me if it hurts too much.”
“You have magic fingers.”
It’s a trick up my sleeve, and with this tired old gal it worked like a charm. When I finished, she turned and kissed my cheek.
“What your name?” I told her it was Jack. “Thank you much, Jack.”
She walked to the dancers’ couch, and the three girls there began chattering around her. I turned to the new girl on stage; she was looking at me. I took a sip from the vodka tonic I’d picked up earlier, warm, with bad vodka, and the dancing girl came down, passing a few blokes before swaying at my lap. She was tall, and I gave her my full attention. I told her I had no money, but she said it was alright. I thought, while she ground herself against me in nothing but a bikini bottom, that she might have seen the commotion with the other girls and wanted first stake. Little did she know I had nothing to offer but my hands. Or maybe she did know. Maybe all a working girl really wants is some relief at the end of the night. She turned around and penetrated my eyes, and when I stared back, ignoring the flesh she flaunted before me, a smile crept across her face. Perhaps this was common, but nothing felt common about it. She broke off toward the end of the song, reaching the stage with just enough time to strip off her bikini. She faced me for her final pose. I couldn’t help but stare as she gathered to go. Before she returned, another girl approached me.
“I hear you have the magic fingers.”
“Yes. Would you like a massage?”
“Yes.”She sat facing away from me, turning her head back to say, “Please.” I massaged her the same way as I did Thtiana, which was easy and seemed to have great effect. Her back was also messed up; the knots were bigger than the hen mother’s but not as deep. She was obviously younger, maybe new to the lifestyle.
I finished the massage. She ran back to the couch, pausing only briefly to tell me thanks. The tall dancer who was now in an open-back dress and fishnets came up to me, and all I could think about was having seen her naked a moment earlier. I suppose that’s the point.
“My name is Marina.”
“Howdy Marina, I’m Jack.”
“Howdy Jack.” She giggled. “I see you give good massage.”
“Yes,”I said, “it’s my profession back home.”
“You want massage for me?”
“Of course. Turn around.” Marina was gorgeous. She looked nineteen or so, though probably in her twenties, and her back was the best of all. It was soft, tan, and only had a few tight muscles throughout. When I pulled her straight, dark hair out of the way she responded. I thought about the hours of dancing, serpentine movement, the stretching these girls do nightly. I thought about what causes the horrible tension in their backs, and how any relief must be incredible.
Marina slowly scooted back into me, grabbing my knees when I reached a knot. More than the cheap perfume, I could smell her hair. It drove me crazy. She ended the session by pushing against me so my hands slipped from her back around her waist and inside her dress. I didn’t move an inch.
“Come upstairs with me. I want to have fun with you.”
“I can’t. I’m broke.”
“No money?”
“No. Could we continue this massage up there, with no charge?”
“No. Owner needs one thousand for room. Oh, but you are cute.”
“I can’t.” She raised her arm to touch my cheek lightly, then stood up and walked away like walking from a board meeting. She sat at the far end of the long couch and no one spoke to her. They knew she’d been denied. She’d never been denied. Thtiana smiled at me. I’d done something. The reigning queen was weakened, and there was a scramble for the crown.
The old hen mother came up to me. “You want give another massage?”
“Sure Vetania.”
“Come. Sit over here.” She led me to the couch and sat on the end, facing out. I sat between her and a curly haired brunette to whom I politely mumbled some greeting. She smiled. I rubbed Thtiana’s knots and tension, and when two girls came to sit down they giggled, saying something in Russian to her, probably about her contorted face. We all laughed. When it was over, she offered me a cigarette.
“No, thanks, I don’t smoke.”
“No?”
“Actually yeah, I’ll have one.” I lit the menthol she offered with her lighter before lighting hers. She cocked her head, licked her thumb, and tried to wipe her lipstick off my cheek.
“You want drink?” I’d left my proxy back at my seat.
“Can’t afford one.”
“No worry. What you want?” She started to get up.
“Whatever you’re having.” She went to the bar and immediately the curly brunette grabbed my thigh.
“I dance next. You give good massage after?”
“Yes.”She slid closer, barely dressed. “What’s your name?”
“Gabriela.”
“See you soon, Gabriela.”
I looked over and Marina was staring at me. She wore a pleasant look, calm and warm, but without any smile. She was formulating something, perhaps a way to regain her throne. I smiled at her, but was distracted by a petite blonde who jumped up from the far end of the couch and sat next to me, grinning from ear to ear.
“Wanna massage?”
“Yes.”She turned and pulled her bright hair forward so I could get at her back. Thtiana came over with a strong vodka tonic, this time with good, smooth hooch, and lit me another smoke when I finished with the spunky blonde. The hen mother had done her job, bringing me to the group, and off she went to chat with the waitress and DJ. The couch became a line for rubdowns from the young American, with each girl getting her massage before entertaining the rich blokes. occasionally Thtiana came around with more drinks and a freshly lit smoke. I was saturated with women, menthol, and booze. I felt and felt up Gabriela, Anna, Victoria, Beana, and the feisty Petrya. It was time to go.
“Goodnight ladies. Remember to sleep on your back, not your side,” I was freely giving advice for better backs. “And Anna, remember to sit up straight.
With tits your size, they won’t last ten years sitting like that.”
“Thank you Jack,” Anna said, and sat up. I walked over to Thtiana and hugged her goodbye, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Goodnight. You come back?”
“Tonight’s my last night in Prague,”I responded, which was another lie. She thumbed the lipstick from my cheek. I walked out to the hall, where Marina caught up with me.
“You not say bye to me?”
“Of course I do.” I hugged her, feeling down her bare back. She tugged my waist into her and looked up at me. I kissed her cheeks. She slid her hand behind my head, tickling my neck, and I found myself kissing her. Her breath was sweet, like peppermint, and my hands fell to rest on her butt.
“I can leave now.”
“Okay.”
“I come with you?”
“No money.”
“No money.” She caressed my neck.
“No private bed.” My mind raced to every free room in the hostel. The kitchen, the bathroom, the hallway. “Alright.”
“Okay?”
“No. No, I’m sorry,” I kissed her hand, “I just can’t.”
She sighed, raised her shoulders, and walked back to the room. I was alone. I turned to leave when I saw a copy of the sex menu. Deciding to take it with me, I shoved it in the back of my pants, walked down the staircase, and out the door. I wandered the early a.m. streets of the foreign capitol, admiring the life still pulsing. Drunks were hassled by beat cops, vodka was peddled by street vendors, casinos sold vice. I saw another strip club and pondered trying everything over again, or maybe going back for Marina and nailing her against the Shelter’s shower wall.
I got back to the hostel around four. When I opened the door the place was silent, and Jim greeted me with a toothbrush in his mouth.
“Where the fuck have – are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“What happened to your face?” He moved forward with a cocked eye. “To your cheek?”
“My cheek?” I wiped and felt smeared lipstick. “Oh, yeah, that’s from Vetania. Man, I’ve had a night.”
“Vetania? Did you see the dude?”
“What dude?”
“The guy with the bunk grass.”
“Oh, I saw him,” I recalled the massive scheme in the tourist-crowded streets, “but decided not to confront him. Man, everyone’s in on it. I’ll talk about it later, but first look at this.” I pulled the menu from my back and presented it to him. He studied it for a moment.
“You went to a whorehouse?” He handed the menu back. I looked at it again.
“A strip club. Well, a whorehouse disguised as a strip club.”
“Did you…” He paused to look at the lipstick and messed up hair. He wiped a glob of toothpaste from the side of his mouth and flung it at the sink.
“No, no, no money. Plus I wouldn’t do that. I just gave all the girls massages.”
“Huh. Just massages. You locked us in, you know.”
“You need the keys to get out?” He nodded. “Oh. Well, sorry ‘bout that. You guys weren’t going out anyway, right? Where’s the other two?”
“Asleep. I’m about there myself.”
“That sounds good. Let’s all go to sleep.”
Jim laughed, stopping short to spit in the sink, and washed his mouth.
“Wait.”I stopped him at the kitchen entrance and went to the dark room in silence, returning with my flask. “One more shot for the night.”
“Can’t. Just brushed my teeth.”
“Shut the heck up and take this.” I doled out two heavy shots of scotch, bought during our stay in Edinburgh.
“To what shall we drink?”
“To…to banana autoerotica and…and…”
“And to everything else.”
“Okay then.”
Our glasses clinked together.
Back on the street I noticed an odd shift of atmosphere. Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe it was just getting late and the decent tourists had all gone to bed, but the people still prowling seemed a little more sinister and a lot more drunk. The bright Casino neons flashed on each block as I walked down the main road, most stores were closed but it was still busy on the street, and the vendors were peddling alcohol and sausages. I left the main road and ducked through a couple of alleyways. I was accosted by several beggars claiming one disability or another, and found myself on a side street overlooking the clock tower plaza.
I didn’t see the kid who conned us yet, and decided to not go into the thick of the crowd before scoping it out. I was immediately struck by the transfer of crutches from one of the begging cripples to another. The man who was previously crutched walked calmly, easily I might add, over to three men who were selling various light-producing toys. I saw them talk for a moment, then one handed something to the now ex-disabled guy, and he wandered off into the crowd. I thought of following him, but decided to keep my distance, and watched the three with the lights. Within minutes other people – flower girls, teenagers all with off-white sweaters, cripples, beggars, old, young – came to these men, had a short conference, and were off with new assignments.
I opened my sights to the whole crowd, and was amazed at a huge ring of deceit and con-artistry. I realized half the town must be in on the scam, and that it revolved around the men selling small bright lights. Some of the hustlers focused on the drug crowd; people who would buy sealed packages with supposed pot inside, and actually trust you without opening them. The other rubes, the other sideshow suckers, were marked by trinket peddlers and panhandlers. I saw all
this.
I was drunk and had left everything at the Shelter but the group’s one set of keys. I left pissed, but the insight to Prague’s nightlife was worth the money taken, so when I saw my kid I decided to leave him alone in lieu of some fun. I passed a strip club and joined a group of Englishmen who drunkenly paid for my admittance. The dark club was upstairs, and at its entrance was a second spiral staircase heading up. I didn’t have a dime. I took someone’s discarded drink and sat in the back to avoid being bothered by those wanting to solicit me.
The place was small, just one big room with the stage and a service bar in the back. I wasn’t far from anything. The DJ in the corner played horrible American pop with that thumping beat Europeans seem to love. The waitress meandered the room making sure all the men were well stocked, while strippers rotated dancing to short songs, first topless, then for a second they were fully nude at the end. Then they dressed and walked the room looking to sell something from the menu. I took a look at it while observing the dancers propositioning the rich English blokes. Some of the men occasionally walked out with a girl and up the second staircase, while others settled for expensive lap dances. Some of the items on the menu were: Lesbian Show; Fruit Show; Tequila Show; and others. I couldn’t figure what the Banana Autoerotic Show was all about. The first girl came over.
“You like somethink from that?”
“They’re interesting.”
“You want somethink?” She sat beside me. “Somethink from me?”
“No, I can’t.”
“You sure?” She bit her lip. “You are cute. Where you from?”
“The States.”
“You not seem like it.”
“I get that a lot out here.” I swallowed. She was one of the cuter girls in there, and I was suddenly very glad I didn’t bring any money. “I can’t, really.”
She stood up without a word.
It went on like this for a while; each new girl came over when the rich blokes were occupied, and I dismissed each one with pitiful kindness. Finally, the hen mother came my way. She was older, maybe in her forties, but not unattractive, and with a regal aura when she talked. She walked over with a pleasant smile.
“You want go upstairs?”
“Uh…”
“Good massage, great ending. Maybe sex.”
“No, that’s alright.”
“You not like women?” She coolly grinned with her baiting.
“Cute. Yes, I like women. I just don’t have any money tonight. What I can do is...um...what’s your name?”
“Vetania.”
“Vetania. How d’ya spell that?”
I brought out a pen and she wrote ‘THTIANA’ on a napkin off the table. I looked at it for a second.
“Pronounced Ve-ta-nia?” She nodded. “Okay. Where are you from, Vetania?”
“Russia.” She looked around the room. “Most girls are from Russia. She is from here, from Praha.” She pointed at the long blonde dancing naked. The song ended and she gathered everything to run back and change. I watched her jiggle out the door.
“You like?” I turned, remembering the older Russian beside me. “What can you do?”
“What?”
“You said you can do something. What can you do?”
“Oh, right. Turn around.” She turned away from me, trusting, and I ran my fingers up the muscles of her spine like a heavy tarantula. When I felt a knot, and there were many, I paused to focus on it. Like all dancers, her back was messed up beyond repair, with deep-rooted tension from the strains and physical stresses of her profession. She melted at my handy work.
“Tell me if it hurts too much.”
“You have magic fingers.”
It’s a trick up my sleeve, and with this tired old gal it worked like a charm. When I finished, she turned and kissed my cheek.
“What your name?” I told her it was Jack. “Thank you much, Jack.”
She walked to the dancers’ couch, and the three girls there began chattering around her. I turned to the new girl on stage; she was looking at me. I took a sip from the vodka tonic I’d picked up earlier, warm, with bad vodka, and the dancing girl came down, passing a few blokes before swaying at my lap. She was tall, and I gave her my full attention. I told her I had no money, but she said it was alright. I thought, while she ground herself against me in nothing but a bikini bottom, that she might have seen the commotion with the other girls and wanted first stake. Little did she know I had nothing to offer but my hands. Or maybe she did know. Maybe all a working girl really wants is some relief at the end of the night. She turned around and penetrated my eyes, and when I stared back, ignoring the flesh she flaunted before me, a smile crept across her face. Perhaps this was common, but nothing felt common about it. She broke off toward the end of the song, reaching the stage with just enough time to strip off her bikini. She faced me for her final pose. I couldn’t help but stare as she gathered to go. Before she returned, another girl approached me.
“I hear you have the magic fingers.”
“Yes. Would you like a massage?”
“Yes.”She sat facing away from me, turning her head back to say, “Please.” I massaged her the same way as I did Thtiana, which was easy and seemed to have great effect. Her back was also messed up; the knots were bigger than the hen mother’s but not as deep. She was obviously younger, maybe new to the lifestyle.
I finished the massage. She ran back to the couch, pausing only briefly to tell me thanks. The tall dancer who was now in an open-back dress and fishnets came up to me, and all I could think about was having seen her naked a moment earlier. I suppose that’s the point.
“My name is Marina.”
“Howdy Marina, I’m Jack.”
“Howdy Jack.” She giggled. “I see you give good massage.”
“Yes,”I said, “it’s my profession back home.”
“You want massage for me?”
“Of course. Turn around.” Marina was gorgeous. She looked nineteen or so, though probably in her twenties, and her back was the best of all. It was soft, tan, and only had a few tight muscles throughout. When I pulled her straight, dark hair out of the way she responded. I thought about the hours of dancing, serpentine movement, the stretching these girls do nightly. I thought about what causes the horrible tension in their backs, and how any relief must be incredible.
Marina slowly scooted back into me, grabbing my knees when I reached a knot. More than the cheap perfume, I could smell her hair. It drove me crazy. She ended the session by pushing against me so my hands slipped from her back around her waist and inside her dress. I didn’t move an inch.
“Come upstairs with me. I want to have fun with you.”
“I can’t. I’m broke.”
“No money?”
“No. Could we continue this massage up there, with no charge?”
“No. Owner needs one thousand for room. Oh, but you are cute.”
“I can’t.” She raised her arm to touch my cheek lightly, then stood up and walked away like walking from a board meeting. She sat at the far end of the long couch and no one spoke to her. They knew she’d been denied. She’d never been denied. Thtiana smiled at me. I’d done something. The reigning queen was weakened, and there was a scramble for the crown.
The old hen mother came up to me. “You want give another massage?”
“Sure Vetania.”
“Come. Sit over here.” She led me to the couch and sat on the end, facing out. I sat between her and a curly haired brunette to whom I politely mumbled some greeting. She smiled. I rubbed Thtiana’s knots and tension, and when two girls came to sit down they giggled, saying something in Russian to her, probably about her contorted face. We all laughed. When it was over, she offered me a cigarette.
“No, thanks, I don’t smoke.”
“No?”
“Actually yeah, I’ll have one.” I lit the menthol she offered with her lighter before lighting hers. She cocked her head, licked her thumb, and tried to wipe her lipstick off my cheek.
“You want drink?” I’d left my proxy back at my seat.
“Can’t afford one.”
“No worry. What you want?” She started to get up.
“Whatever you’re having.” She went to the bar and immediately the curly brunette grabbed my thigh.
“I dance next. You give good massage after?”
“Yes.”She slid closer, barely dressed. “What’s your name?”
“Gabriela.”
“See you soon, Gabriela.”
I looked over and Marina was staring at me. She wore a pleasant look, calm and warm, but without any smile. She was formulating something, perhaps a way to regain her throne. I smiled at her, but was distracted by a petite blonde who jumped up from the far end of the couch and sat next to me, grinning from ear to ear.
“Wanna massage?”
“Yes.”She turned and pulled her bright hair forward so I could get at her back. Thtiana came over with a strong vodka tonic, this time with good, smooth hooch, and lit me another smoke when I finished with the spunky blonde. The hen mother had done her job, bringing me to the group, and off she went to chat with the waitress and DJ. The couch became a line for rubdowns from the young American, with each girl getting her massage before entertaining the rich blokes. occasionally Thtiana came around with more drinks and a freshly lit smoke. I was saturated with women, menthol, and booze. I felt and felt up Gabriela, Anna, Victoria, Beana, and the feisty Petrya. It was time to go.
“Goodnight ladies. Remember to sleep on your back, not your side,” I was freely giving advice for better backs. “And Anna, remember to sit up straight.
With tits your size, they won’t last ten years sitting like that.”
“Thank you Jack,” Anna said, and sat up. I walked over to Thtiana and hugged her goodbye, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Goodnight. You come back?”
“Tonight’s my last night in Prague,”I responded, which was another lie. She thumbed the lipstick from my cheek. I walked out to the hall, where Marina caught up with me.
“You not say bye to me?”
“Of course I do.” I hugged her, feeling down her bare back. She tugged my waist into her and looked up at me. I kissed her cheeks. She slid her hand behind my head, tickling my neck, and I found myself kissing her. Her breath was sweet, like peppermint, and my hands fell to rest on her butt.
“I can leave now.”
“Okay.”
“I come with you?”
“No money.”
“No money.” She caressed my neck.
“No private bed.” My mind raced to every free room in the hostel. The kitchen, the bathroom, the hallway. “Alright.”
“Okay?”
“No. No, I’m sorry,” I kissed her hand, “I just can’t.”
She sighed, raised her shoulders, and walked back to the room. I was alone. I turned to leave when I saw a copy of the sex menu. Deciding to take it with me, I shoved it in the back of my pants, walked down the staircase, and out the door. I wandered the early a.m. streets of the foreign capitol, admiring the life still pulsing. Drunks were hassled by beat cops, vodka was peddled by street vendors, casinos sold vice. I saw another strip club and pondered trying everything over again, or maybe going back for Marina and nailing her against the Shelter’s shower wall.
I got back to the hostel around four. When I opened the door the place was silent, and Jim greeted me with a toothbrush in his mouth.
“Where the fuck have – are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“What happened to your face?” He moved forward with a cocked eye. “To your cheek?”
“My cheek?” I wiped and felt smeared lipstick. “Oh, yeah, that’s from Vetania. Man, I’ve had a night.”
“Vetania? Did you see the dude?”
“What dude?”
“The guy with the bunk grass.”
“Oh, I saw him,” I recalled the massive scheme in the tourist-crowded streets, “but decided not to confront him. Man, everyone’s in on it. I’ll talk about it later, but first look at this.” I pulled the menu from my back and presented it to him. He studied it for a moment.
“You went to a whorehouse?” He handed the menu back. I looked at it again.
“A strip club. Well, a whorehouse disguised as a strip club.”
“Did you…” He paused to look at the lipstick and messed up hair. He wiped a glob of toothpaste from the side of his mouth and flung it at the sink.
“No, no, no money. Plus I wouldn’t do that. I just gave all the girls massages.”
“Huh. Just massages. You locked us in, you know.”
“You need the keys to get out?” He nodded. “Oh. Well, sorry ‘bout that. You guys weren’t going out anyway, right? Where’s the other two?”
“Asleep. I’m about there myself.”
“That sounds good. Let’s all go to sleep.”
Jim laughed, stopping short to spit in the sink, and washed his mouth.
“Wait.”I stopped him at the kitchen entrance and went to the dark room in silence, returning with my flask. “One more shot for the night.”
“Can’t. Just brushed my teeth.”
“Shut the heck up and take this.” I doled out two heavy shots of scotch, bought during our stay in Edinburgh.
“To what shall we drink?”
“To…to banana autoerotica and…and…”
“And to everything else.”
“Okay then.”
Our glasses clinked together.