Free Virgin Whore by Thomas Henry

Virgin Whore
     
    I pulled over to the curb, flicked off my lights, and killed the engine, letting my car coast to a stop without stepping on the brakes.  I was trying to attract as little attention as possible.  I glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching me from the darkness.  In the daytime, this back street in Kapalama usually bustled.  But now, nearly midnight, it seemed deserted.  Sparse lighting.  No noise.  No traffic.  Only a couple of cars and trucks parked in the shadows.  I chose this place over the others advertised in the PennySaver because of its seclusion.  Most of these “relaxation spas” were in the Keeaumoku Street area.  Lots of light.  Lots of traffic.  Lots of people wandering around.  Too much risk of being seen by someone who knew me.  Here, I wasn’t concerned about being recognized, but I was a bit nervous about the possibility that the police might have this place staked out.
    The building was dark and inconspicuous.  Concrete block construction, two stories, narrow and deep, with a glass office door in front and roll-up warehouse doors at ground level on the side.  Above the warehouse doors, the second floor windows were black.
    I couldn’t see a business name or sign on the building, but I was pretty sure it was the right place.  The address matched the newspaper ad.  Faint light radiated from the office door.  A plastic “OPEN” sign was taped to the inside of the glass.
    I sat motionless in the car, moving only my eyes as I scanned my surroundings through the windshield and in my mirrors.  I wondered if the police were watching me from the darkness.  Were they recording my license number, checking to see who I was?  I didn’t see anyone, so I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.  I was momentarily lightheaded.  Probably the effect of the two drinks I had tossed down at the bar where I stopped on my way over here.
    I closed the car door gently.  It didn’t latch.  I pressed hard against it with my thigh until the click of the latch broke the silence of the street.  I locked the door with the key, but opted not to set the alarm so that it wouldn’t chirp and flash the lights.
    I forced myself to maintain a normal pace and tried to appear nonchalant as I sauntered up to the front door of the building.  I looked through the glass and saw an unoccupied desk straight ahead and a shoji partition to the right.  The overhead fluorescent lights were off, but soft, flickering light emanated from behind the partition.  It gave the place a cozy feel.
    I pushed the door open and stepped inside.  A fluffy little white dog came bounding from behind the screen.  It wagged its stubby tail and sniffed at my shoes as I closed the door behind me.  A middle-aged Korean woman appeared from behind the partition.  She wore bold, black eyeliner, a long, dark skirt, and a tight white T-shirt that barely concealed her heavy breasts.  I could see the dark circles of her areolas through the thin fabric.  As she ambled toward me, her pacifier-like nipples traced crazy patterns in the taught fabric.  She smiled and nodded toward the dog.  “Usually she bark at stranger.  She like you.”
    I leaned over and let the dog sniff the back of my hand.  She seemed friendly, so I stroked her head a couple of times.  “Cute little dog.”
    The woman’s smile widened, sparkling gold.  “She my baby.  She keep me company.”
    The woman walked toward the unoccupied desk.  I followed, glancing behind the partition as I passed it.  I saw two sofas facing each other, a floor lamp, and a television playing softly.  A young Asian woman was lying on one of the sofas, hugging herself as she slept, her arms hiding her breasts.  She had streaks of bright red in her long black hair.  Her nails and lips were painted black.  Five small gold rings pierced her ear.  She wore a skin-tight purple knit dress that had ridden up enough to reveal a spider tattoo high on her inner