We’d plowed deep into another night of beer, whiskey and chatter. It was two or three or four when the others had gone. There we sat, B and me, the last peopled table, swaying like child-sailors in dread of our imminent docking.
Both of us lived with our girlfriends back then and on this night, shared a total lack of desire to go home to them. Last I’d seen mine her canines were exposed – in front of them a red object in mid-air quickly approaching.
Recounting this to B created a do-something-crazy-and-get-away-with-it CARD. They pop up, these cards, all over Shanghai at night like mushrooms in a shit patch.
We plucked ours and ate them right up.
I felt immediately set free. B appeared fully charged. His blonde hair standing up toward the moon, his pale eyes twinkling bright – the plan was brewing…
Years ago, a friend from the heartland of my home country devised a way to graph her theory on humans and alcohol consumption: as the blood-alcohol level increases, the behavior reflecting age decreases – size and tolerance of a given human depending. All considered, that put B and me (early thirties in sober years) at about twelve/thirteen tops at this point.
Into the dark morning we flew, up and down black roads on B’s mini-scooter. We might have been lost or just shopping; I can’t say since remaining upright was all I could manage. When we’d come to a complete stop, B lulled sweetly, “Come now, let’s go.”
Inside the whorehouse I let B do all of talking, naturally. As he slurred out the Chinese words for ‘girl on girl’ and ‘lesbian,’ the faces of lined-up ladies moved their eyes to the floor and the pimp stepped in. He quickly walked over to the greasy glass door and waved us over to join him under a nearby tree.
In the middle of a heated back and forth, B looks at me and says, “Just go pick one and they’ll figure it out. I’ll pay.” “No B,” I said, “I’m good. You go ahead though and I’ll wait here.” B would not have it – his hands waved away my words and nudged me back towards the door. That’s when the pimp chimed in with something brave that made B cackle and cover his maniac mouth.
Finally B translated, “He said to pick one and come back tomorrow. He needs to teach her.”