TENSHE LOOKED ABOUT 20, unmistakably Chinese, and like she didn’t want to be in this room. She walked in front of the bar and around the main floor area, head looking down, not making eye contact with anybody. Like many of the other girls, she wore a short Lycra skirt, constantly adjusting it down a little. She also looked uncomfortable in the knee-high black boots she had on.
I asked my new friend if he had her name. He didn’t, but he did appear to know the name of one of the so-called hostesses. The same blonde woman we had seen earlier. He raised his hand to get her attention, and she met his gaze, and mine, with a well-trained smile. The smile that women who worked in this kind of establishment had collectively perfected over the past several millennia.
She came over and put the clip
