rhythmic, sensuous gyrations. Howie stared, unable to take his eyes off
her.
“Ai!” Rodriguez exclaimed. “ital tetas!”
“I’ll stick with this one here,” Bentley said, leering as he pulled his
girl closer and toyed with her bra. “She’s got class! You can tell
…”
Paterowski’s girl grinned as she rubbed her hand down his shirt front
toward his crotch. “And you horny sailor men,” she said. “We know.”
“Right you are, babe,” Bentley said. He took another swallow of Mekong.
“Best in the fleet!”
Howard wondered how she’d known the four of them were sailors. They
were all wearing civies and looked like typical tourists, as far as he
could tell.
“You all Jefferson men?” one of the girls wanted to know.
“Sure are,” Paterowski said. “You heard of us?”
“I think we want find out!” The girls giggled, as though sharing a
secret.
Number 21 pressed herself close to Howard, nuzzling his ear. Her
perfume threatened to overwhelm him. “So what you do, sailor?” She
laughed. “On ship, I mean.”
“Uh … actually, I’m a message runner,” Howie said. Number 21’s breast
was rubbing against his arm, each movement threatening to dislodge the
scrap of material covering it. “I … uh … run messages.”
“Hey, don’t be so modest, Howie!” Rodriguez said. “Don’t let him fool
you, chica. He’s right up there in CATCC with the rest of us.”
“This cat-see,” Bentley’s girl said. Her number was 15. “Is what?”
“The heart of the carrier, babe. The center of the whole damned show.”
“Like radar? We know radar. Very important on ship.”
“Right you are, honey,” Paterowski said. “We run the radar. The
flyboys couldn’t even land without us there to help ’em. But hey, we
didn’t come here to talk shop!”
“We like big, important guys,” Bentley’s girl said. “For you, very,
very special treatment! Sanuk!”
“What’s sanuk?”
The girls laughed and Howard’s girl explained. “Is fun!”
“Hey, I like the sound of that!” Rodriguez said.
“Yeah,” Paterowski said. “What say we go someplace where we can enjoy
some sanuk in private?”
“You wait.” Number 15 pulled away from Bentley. “Wait here minute. I
call, get special place. We go have fun.”
“Whoa!” Paterowski said, watching her go. “We got some hot numbers
here, hey, Bent?”
“Told you Patpong was a great place. Wonder what she has in mind?”
Number 15 didn’t return for nearly fifteen minutes. When she
reappeared, she was wearing a leather miniskirt and a fire-red silk
blouse and carried a pocketbook. She snapped something at the other
girls in That.
Howard’s girl replied with a machine gun-like barrage in the same
language. He felt her stiffen next to him and sensed that she was angry
though he couldn’t tell what the argument was about. The first girl
spoke again, her tone imperious as she gestured toward the front of the
bar. The others seemed to give in, then. All three stood up gracefully
and walked away, not even looking back or saying good-bye.
“Hey,” Rodriguez demanded. “Where’re they going?”
“You think they go on street dressed like that?” She held out her hand
for Bentley. “They meet us at special place. I call friend, all fix.
You see!”
“What do you say, guys?” Bentley said, smirking. “Let’s party!”
“I’m with you, man!” Paterowski said, rising.
The drinks already paid for, they trooped out of the Golden Coast,
following the girl. Howie wondered what her name was. The number
seemed so … degrading, somehow.
On the street, Bentley’s girl led the way along the crowded sidewalk.
“Hey, where we going’, chica?” Rodriguez asked.
“Not far. You see.”
“What about the other girls?” Rodriguez asked.
“They come. You see!”
She led them across the street, then turned a corner into a narrow alley
between a topless bar and an establishment which billed itself as a
short-time hotel.
Howard pulled back. He didn’t like the tawdry feel to the whole scene,
didn’t like the numbers, the open advances. It made him feel dirty.
“This isn’t for me, guys,” he said suddenly. “You all go on without
me.”
“Howie!” Rodriguez said. “Shit, don’t lose it now, man! I mean,
these girls are hot!”
“Uh-uh.” Fear … and denial turned to resolve. This was wrong. “You