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smile.

Of course, we weren't in the United States of America.

"Well, ok," I replied dumbly.

"Ok, good."

The Cubana paused for a moment and then leaned in closer to my ear.

"There's something I wanted to ask you."

Oh God, here it comes

"Yes?"

"You know, I've been kinda short on money lately-"

"Uh huh."

"-and I was wondering if you could, you know, help me out."

I pretended to be puzzled.

"'Help you out'?"

"Yeah, you know, just a few bucks to help me get by"

I was surprised by the hooker's modesty. She wasn't naming a price- in fact, she wasn't even making it seem like I was buying anything from her. She just wanted some help, that's all. We'd hook-up, I'd give a few bucks to help her out', and that'd be it. What a good scheme this was! Pull-in unsuspecting tourists who would normally never pay for sex by making it seem as if they were contributing to a good cause! Ha! A more foolish man would be tempted by this bait but not me!

"How much?" I asked.

"I don't know thirty dollars?"

"Oh, honey, that's too expensive. I'm thinking more like ten."

"But that's how much I paid to get in here!"

"Oh? Ok. Twelve then!"

"That's hardly anything! I'll give it to you for twenty five!"

"Now you're being greedy!"

"Twenty then!"

"Twenty?"

"Twenty, honey, and I'll make sure you won't regret it."

The rum was really making her aggressive. Now she reached down to my crotch and ran her smooth fingers over the growing lump down there. I closed my eyes and smiled.

"Twenty?"

"Twenty," she breathed and leaned in to my ear. She bit my earlobe softly. "Just twenty, that's all, a little help. Just a little help."

"A little help," I muttered, my eyes still closed.

"Just a little help. Just a little help."

And then my conscious kicked-in. This was the problem with having good morals. Or maybe it was guilt. Or maybe it was fear. In my head I suddenly saw my classmates whispering to our other classmates back at home: Hey, you know David? Yeah, he slept with a hooker in Cuba. Can you believe that? Can you honestly believe that?

"I'll tell you what," I said and started to get up.

The hooker moved her leg from my own and looked at me, puzzled.

"What?"

"Here." I reached in my pocket and produced 20 Cuban convertibles. "Take this to help you pay for your cover. It's a little help, right?"

The Cubana's puzzled face disappeared with the appearance of the money and she quickly snatched it out of my hands. She shoved it into one of her tight jean pockets and smiled.

"You're very kind, David. But what do you want?"

I nodded towards the salsa band on-stage. "I never learned how to salsa," I explained. "Always wanted to but just never had the time."

The Cubana scrunched her eyebrow and nodded to the half-empty bottle of Havana Club on the table. "How about we have another drink first?" she suggested, smiling.

I laughed. She may be a hooker but, at heart, she was still a girl who wanted to go out and party. Hell, she probably made like ten bucks a month from the Communist government. How often could she go out and have a good time without worrying about money?

I plopped down next to her and she wrapped her leg around mine again. With her free hand she grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

"Welcome to Cuba," she said and offered me the bottle.

I took a swig and leaned my head back.

"Yes," I replied. "I feel very welcome."

Learn more about this author, David Law.
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