The disco square is a kind of hookers' corral, with the girls lining up on the sides to entice pay-for-play suitors.
At least two dozen women are on the dancefloor: blondes and brunettes, Asians and Caucasians, all tarted up in their sexiest clubgear, whether it's perms or ponytails, tube tops or bikini tops, miniskirts or maxiskirts, all with an eyecatching array of slits, straps, stripes and colors.
'Do the girls come to your table?'
'No, that's not the way it works here.'
If a man is interested, it's up to him to approach her; the hookers can't hassle the clientele. So even here, in a hotel de whore, the sexes are separated and the men very much in control.
THEY MAY NOT BE VIRGINS
Initially, this seems like a straight man's dream: a club where all the women want you, and if you want one (or more) of them, all you have to do is ask. No need to chat them up, buy them a drink, or pretend they're interesting. Just 'how much?' and you're in.
Or if you're not in the mood, you can just drink with your friends and ogle the girls for free.
Some are sexier than others, and some look downright bored, but most are smiling and making goo-goo eyes at you—yes, you!—blowing you kisses while grinding their hips and shaking their cleavage.
They may not be virgins, but they're a verisimilitude of paradise. It's like having your own harem.
And at first, I can't stop grinning—albeit nervously.
Soon enough, though, all the staring starts to get to me. The hookers have obviously clocked me as a foreigner (ka-ching!), so they gravitate over to my side of the floor, and having that many women pouting at you all at once is more than a little off-putting.
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