expressions about what fun they were going to have and what a hunk he was.
"What is your name?" he interrupted her.
"Bambi."
A traditional Thai name.
"How old are you?"
"Old enough."
"For what?"
Again, the ice-cream-cone lick.
"To make you happy."
"Why do you do this, Bambi?"
"Do what?"
The oppressive heat was even worse here than downstairs.
They were in the darkened hallway now, the painting chipped, the lighting nearly nonexistent. Max shuddered as they passed the door in the corner with a Do Not Enter sign stapled to it.
He managed not to hesitate.
"Prostitute yourself."
She looked at him.
"Why?"
"Just asking. You seem like an intelligent " For a brief moment the smile disappeared and he could see the naked hatred underneath it. "You going to take me away from all this, Max?" A touch of scorn had slipped into her voice. But then the moment was over. Like a candle that had flickered, the smile came back and seemed to brighten.
"Come," she said.
"I will be your fantasy. Then you go home happy, okay?"
She opened the door. The first thing that hit him was the odor.
Some sort of cherry room freshener had been sprayed in heavy doses, trying to conceal the still unmistakably foul smell of... of sleaze.
Sleaze permeated every part of the room, as if the very acts had nestled into the walls like thousands of tiny cockroaches, rotting the foundations. Max shivered.
Where did his unease come from? he wondered. He had been in bathhouses, even heavy-duty mass orgies and yet something about this room intimidated him. There was just something so... so blatantly dehumanizing.
As far as the physical lay-out, well, suffice to say that room was aptly named the Kink Room. On one wall hung dildoes, lots of them, of shapes and sizes that boggled the imagination. Some were barely phallic. Whips, chains, handcuffs, ropes, straitjackets, leather masks, bondage and submission devices of all sorts covered shelves on his left. And then straight ahead, on a red colored wall... he walked over to get a closer look.
"Jesus."
The red wall.
He spun back toward Bambi who was huddled in a corner now. The smile was still there, but her eyes had suddenly filled with pure terror.
"Red wall extra, Max." Pause.
"You want?"
He looked again, not believing what he was seeing. A stun gun A goddamn police stun-gun. Enough volts of electricity to make a body spasm like an epileptic's during a seizure.
"People use this on you?" he asked.
She did not respond for a few seconds, only smiling.
"Not on me. Other girls."
He put the stun-gun back and picked up a... Jesus Christ... an electric cattle prod. Kinky was one thing, but this went beyond simple sadism.
He had heard about such things, men who enjoyed zapping nipples or even a clitoris, but his mind had dismissed it as mind-boggling fiction.
"Sometimes," Bambi said, "they want me to use."
"Huh?"
"On them," she continued.
Max looked at the prod and tried to imagine it pressed against his balls and prick. His muscles stiffened and something flipped over in his stomach. He continued to look at the shelves in disbelief. Nipple clamps. Sharp, pointed studs. Torture devices that looked like something from the Middle Ages. Nausea swept over him.
The Kink Room? Chamber of Horrors is more like it.
"What you want, Max?"
"I want to tie you up."
"You going to use... the red wall?"
"No."
Her relief was palpable. She started to undress, but Max stopped her.
"Don't strip."
"You don't want me naked?"
He shook his head.
"Lie on the bed," he said, trying to make it sound like a lustful command.
The girl eyed him strangely but obeyed. Max knew plenty about knots and tying people up. He bound her arms and legs three different ways, making sure they were secure but not cutting into her flesh. There was no reason to hurt her.
"Open your mouth," he said.
The young prostitute did as he asked. She was surprised when he stuffed only a cloth into her mouth. He wrapped a rope around her mouth and the back of her head repeatedly, effectively gagging her.
"Can you breathe okay?" he asked.
She nodded.
He wanted to leave with some words of everlasting kindness and wisdom, but he knew it would sound hollow. Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
"Good- bye."
He stepped back toward the door. Bambi's eyes followed him.
He opened the door slightly and glimpsed through the crack.
The corridor was empty. He slipped out and headed toward the room where Frank Reed said Michael was being held. When he reached Michael's door, he grabbed hold of the knob. He turned it and pushed hard.
The door gave way and Max entered.
George