
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Vagabond Heart
ISBN #978-0-85715-335-7
©Copyright A.J. Llewellyn
Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright November 2010
Edited by Delaney Sullivan
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln,

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
Pearl Harbor
VAGABOND HEART
A.J. Llewellyn
Author's Note
Although this is a work of fiction, it is based on fact. The two-hundred women who serviced thousands of US service men passing in an out of Honolulu during and after World War II, remain a fascinating subject for historical study. Though it seems impossible now, details here such as their cloistered, police-controlled existence and the demeaning, very strict rules imposed upon them as described here, are all true.
Inspired by the History Channel's documentary Sex In World War II: The Pacific Front, I researched this story and created the character of Tinder McCartney, a gay male prostitute. There is no historical evidence of anyone like Tinder working in Hawaii during this time period, but I am certain there had to have been at least one man servicing the constant stream of men who streamed into the islands.
Though he is fictional, the details of daily life in Honolulu in the months leading up to the bombing of Pearl Harbor are as close to accurate as possible.
My thanks go to the wonderful staff of the Honolulu Historical Society and to my professors at the University of Hawaii (Manoa) for making so many invaluable archives available to me, for free. They indulged my many questions, sought to help me with names, dates, times and a good deal of Aloha.
The Hawaiian Journal of History, which proved to be a wondrous source of information, led me to the discovery of Richard Greer's excellent essay, Dousing Honolulu's Red Lights and, Mr. Ted Chernin. His report, My Experiences in the Honolulu Chinatown Red-Light District, fueled my imagination.
I created Tinder McCartney as an homage to the two-hundred women who, when Pearl Harbor was bombed, gave up their beds for injured servicemen and worked side by side with hospital nurses to heal them. Both before and after the attack, these women were heroic.
It is with profound respect and love that I dedicate Vagabond Heart to the memory of these women and to Ted Chernin who never stopped loving his own special, Honolulu harlot, "Bobbie."
Mr. Chernin left this life shortly after we began corresponding.
It is my hope that he and Bobbie found one another again in Heaven.

- A.J. Llewellyn

Dedication
Dedicated to the 900 US war heroes who remain trapped in the wreckage of the USS Arizona, an established War Grave in Pearl Harbor.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Three Little Fishes: Glenn Miller
Dole: Dole Food Company, Inc.
Life: Time, Inc.
Delahaye: Terry Cook
Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy: Andrew Sisters
Quote from Samuel M. Clemens (Mark Twain), Paradise of the Pacific, April 1910
Honolulu, Hawaii. Monday, July 7, 1941
He looked so nervous. He licked his lips, his glance shifting from me to the sparse furnishings and back again. I knew he wanted me. He'd been waiting for hours. Now he was here, it was as if he felt too big when the room was so small. He kept his shoulders stooped when there was no need. My cubicle was half of a divided room, the other half partitioned by thin wood and curtains. Outside, I could hear the noises made by the rowdy men still waiting in line, competing with the hucksters of Chinatown trying to hawk everything from jewellery to photos with hula girls.
Curfew was coming.
The sense of urgency gave an edge to the restless laughter. The smell of charbroiled pork wafted up to us from the Chinese café opposite my room on River Street. I stepped towards Howard, his heated gaze stayed on me.
I was nervous too. I could feel his tension, but also his excitement. I heard the radio go on from somewhere downstairs. Glenn Miller performed Three Little Fishes.
"It's all right, Howard," I said, drawing down the blind a little more. "You're with me now."
He jumped when I said his name. I'd only been trying to relax him. I was pleased at least that it appeared to be his real name. The darkened room hid a lot of things, except the strong smell of disinfectant. I'd tried to disguise it with waterlilies I'd picked after my morning swim at the Natatorium. All I could smell now was pork. There was nothing I could do about that. He put his glass down on the small chest of drawers beside the bed. I was worried it would leave a ring mark, but was more worried about him. His cock looked hard in his pants. I didn't want him to leave unsatisfied.
Howard licked his lips again.
I ran my hand down the front of his white duck pants. I was relieved he had such a nice big one.
As I got to my knees, I looked up at him. "Oh, Howard, this is such a surprise."
He grinned then, giving me his full attention. It didn't take long to liberate him from his pants. His cock leaked as I lightly ran my thumb over the tip. I squeezed. Outside, I could hear new music...from the saloon across the street. When the bar music kicked up, it meant it was time for the four-drink dose of Island Gin. The lethal, imitation brew was handed out to US servicemen every hour as they stood in line. It kept them buzzed, kept them spending, kept them in line.
There were lines for food, lines for booze, lines for sex...
Howard jumped when I leant closer to his thighs and went to work. He didn't smell clean, but I didn't care. I had three minutes and this boy was ready to pop. I fondled his balls, licked his shaft and he gasped when I smothered that huge cock head with my whole mouth.
"Oh God!" he yelled.
Somebody from the cubicle next door also used the Lord's name in vain. I milked Howard for all he was worth. His knees trembled and I released him, swallowing his load.
"Thank you, Terry," he said, a tear in his eye. "You're a nice man."
I held him back until the man from the cubicle next door shuffled down the stairs and out to Hotel Street.
Milaina, the housekeeper, knocked softly at my door. She made herself scarce as we approached. I let Howard out.
"I'll be back," he said. "Next pay day. You'll see, Terry." He mouthed thank you again.
I handed him his glass. Not that he needed his horrible gin, he was pretty liquored up still, but damn it, he'd paid for it.
I didn't respond in case anyone was listening. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the guys still waiting to come up were none the wiser that Howard, the Marine, had just spent his three bucks on a male whore.
And for me, my first trick ever wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all.
I had three clients that first day. Not bad, but hardly great when the eight women also working the rooms of the Midway Hotel serviced a hundred men a day each. Milaina said that once news got around that a man was in town servicing the 'deviants' as she liked to call them, I'd be busy, just as the only black female prostitute had become the most popular prostitute on Hotel Street.
We had chosen my working name of Terry together. We picked it because it was a unisex name, which Milaina felt was important. I was the only male whore operating under the legal watch of the US Military and the Honolulu Police, and she felt we still needed to be discreet. I might not make as much as the girls would, but being a man and being a white one at that, I had some privileges the female whores didn't. I was able to walk around the neighbourhood without fear of being arrested. The women were under virtual house arrest from ten-thirty p.m. until seven a.m., when the lines would start forming for them again.
Rifling through my clothes back in my own room downstairs, I chose a working-man's outfit. Pants and a long shirt. I could have been one of the guys working in the cannery. I slipped out the back way, the staff exit. Milaina knew I wouldn't be out late and she knew I wouldn't come back drunk or stoned. Not only was it illegal for whores to get drunk or stoned, but I didn't want to start spending my hard-earned money my first day on the job.
The evening air was cool down by the river. I paused a moment to stare at the battleships lining the harbour. It was a constant sight. They'd pull in, empty their freedom-crazed men for a few days and pull out. Then the next ship would take its place.
I glanced up the end of the street. The Bronx Rooms was one of the biggest brothels. It was still taking in men, even though they weren't supposed to at this hour. Guys roamed the streets, some pausing to buy watches, souvenirs, or to try their luck hitting Hitler between the eyes with a slingshot---eight shots for ten cents---at the penny arcade in Tin Can Alley right opposite my rooms.
The Midway was an active brothel, the second biggest on River Street. The brothel district here in the heart of Chinatown was where the servicemen headed the second their feet touched dry land. River Street, which overlooked the often smelly Nu'uanu River, had businesses only on one side, which made it a little quieter, but during the day, shoeshine boys, lei sellers and hucksters hawking everything from popcorn to imaginary rendezvous with hula girls, lined the riverfront.
I walked uptown a few blocks, nodding to a couple of guys coming out of Miller's Tattoo Parlor on Hotel Street. They both nursed gigantic pads of gauze on their upper arms. They looked young. I wondered which tattoos they'd picked. Across the street, I saw a couple of handsome black servicemen coming out of the Two Jacks saloon. I regretted that I'd never get a chance to service them, even if they were homosexual. Segregation had been forced on the islands ever since the war started.
Locals of foreign extraction were now banned from patronising prostitutes to accommodate the two-hundred-and fifty thousand servicemen streaming into the islands each month. To keep the peace, the local police who controlled the whore business, had declared black servicemen off limits. It was a shame. I liked men of colour and was more attracted to them than men of my own race.
My lover, Lauro, was a tattoo artist at Miller's. There were thirty-three tattoo artists in eight parlours along Hotel Street, all of whom were Filipinos. Each one did between three and five hundred tattoos a day. Sex, tattoos and that horrible, imitation rum went hand in hand in Chinatown.
Though the prostitutes were now officially off-limits for the day, there was still another half hour before all the servicemen and workers would need to be off the street. I waited at the back door in the alley behind Miller's for Lauro.
He came out looking tired and thin.
"My father wants you to come to lunch on Sunday," he said.
I was pleased. I found his family traditions a little strange, but I adored Lauro. He knew what I did for a living. It had been his idea. I'd met him within a day of being back in the islands three months ago. A local kid, I'd been born and raised here, but had gone to college in California. It had always been my dream to build big, beautiful houses along the beach at Waikiki.
With the war going on, I'd found that my opportunities were non-existent. My father had led me to expect I'd get plenty of work but there wasn't much call for an architect when the threat of bombs was not an idle one.
Though I'd graduated from Boston College and had my degree, I'd found it hard to get work there. I'd moved to San Francisco to work with McCarthy, one of the most successful building empires on the mainland.
They sent me to Anchorage, Alaska, where I helped design the city's first post office. Back in San Francisco, the company found it hard to get projects off the ground due to the war. Most of their assignments were civic ones and I was happy to get anything they tossed my way. What they tossed mostly were bones.
Then came my father's call that my mother was very sick. I had to quit my job to get leave. My father assured me it was worth it. I wasn't so sure about that. By the time I'd docked on Boat Day in Honolulu Harbor, I learnt my mother had died and work in the islands was hard to come by.
I'd tried working in the Dole pineapple cannery. I'd tried the sugar cane farms. I wanted something easier...something fun. I was a twenty-four-year-old man with a college degree, and I liked to think, some smarts.
It was Lauro who'd suggested I become a whore.
To be honest, I think it kept him off the hook. He said I was oversexed and although he loved me, being gay was not an option in his culture. He had told me right from the start that he was expected to get married and raise a family. Like me, he was earning three dollars per customer.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Not bad."
"How many?"
"Three."
He looked surprised. "That's great for your first day."
"Yeah."
"Nobody got rough?"
I smiled. "No."
"You're gonna do great," he said.
Lauro was cute. Damned cute. His heavy Filipino accent was sometimes difficult to understand, but I'd learnt to assemble a sentence out of three-quarters of what he said. I was accepted by his family, even though I was haole, white. They thought we were just friends. They liked Lauro having a local friend. Of all the races in the islands, the Filipinos were the most abused and it tore at my heart. His family might have been country folk but they were good people. I looked forward to seeing them Sunday.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked. "I'm really hungry. Mind if we get soup?"
I shook my head. We walked across the street and into Wo Fat, the oldest restaurant in the islands. It had been here since 1882 and each of its five floors was packed. There was a table on the third floor right near the kitchen. We sat down and our knees touched under the table.
"You did them with your mouth or your..." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Mouth," I said.
He grinned. "Word's gonna spread real fast, Tinder. "None of the wimmins wants ta suck the man candy."
"Yeah."
I didn't tell him that I'd already discovered some of them did, just to get the lines moving. I'd already decided I wouldn't tell him much about my new line of work. I never wanted to hurt his feelings. So far, he didn't seem jealous, however. He was more concerned about my money.
"Did she pay you yet?"
I shook my head.
He ordered the house special, chop sui, for both of us from the waiter who seemed twitchy. He'd probably been on his feet all day. I toyed with the fork on my napkin---Wo Fat didn't give you chopsticks unless you asked for them, or unless you were Chinese. They did before the war, but like the bars, they were into a fast turnover. Not customer service.
"She gave me poker chips for each client," I said, as soon as we were alone.
It was still weird getting used to seeing no women anywhere. Female prostitutes were not allowed to eat in restaurants. There was a lot they were not allowed to do. By evening time, the local women in Chinatown were stashed away by their families for fear that drunk and angry servicemen would rape them. Sometimes it was hard for me, a child of the islands, to get used to this kind of restriction. The Hawaii of my youth was a free and loving place.
Our soup bowls arrived and we ate quickly. As usual, it was good. I loved the mix of flavours of chop sui. Wo Fat didn't swamp their broth with char-sui pork. The strong taste was there but I could still savour the crisp snow peas, the whole egg poached in the boiling broth. Juice dribbled down my chin as I bit into some baby corn. I felt Lauro's hot gaze on my face and I felt warm and tingly inside, as if he'd just licked it from my chin.
He bit into a plump piece of mushroom. Our quick evening meal had become the most sensual part of our day. I wanted to linger, to enjoy my brief time with my man but a police officer had just passed out a warning flyer in English, Hawaiian and Japanese that there would be a blackout at nine o'clock to simulate an enemy attack. Lauro needed to get home before curfew.
"When will she give you the cash?" Lauro asked.
"End of the week."
"And you are keeping the chips safe?"
I nodded. As a prostitute, I wasn't allowed legally to own a bank account. None of us were. However, I was born and raised in Waikiki and I would find a way around this rule. I'd find a way around all the restrictions.
Lauro and I paid for our soup and we went outside. Back at Miller's, he retrieved his bicycle from behind the store's garbage bins. He lived in the Filipino community of Hawaii Kai, a few miles east, all the way past the end of Waikiki. It was a long bike ride but he was used to it. Careful that no one could see us, he leant in and kissed me. I felt his sweet cock hardening against my thigh. I wanted the kiss to deepen. He pulled away when he got too excited.
"You always do it to me, Tinder."
"Let me do it, please. Let me suck you."
He let out a hiss. He was getting more and more jumpy about wanting sex with a man.
"Mahal kita," he whispered against my lips.
"I love you, too," I whispered back.
Back at the Midway, I reached my room, bumping and banging into things because I didn't know my way around yet. All the lights had been doused. I could still smell kerosene from the lamps we used in the hotel. Things were dark and quiet. I lay on my bed, my poker chips sewn into the stuffing of my pillow. I'd keep moving them over the coming days. I'd already been warned by the girls working in the house that Milaina, like the other brothel keepers, wasn't to be trusted. At the end of the week, she'd trade me chips for dollar bills. We charged three dollars for three minutes. She kept a dollar for every three. The dollar took care of her and taxes, or hush money, which she paid the police.
Curfew took over and the sounds of life evaporated. I lay awake thinking how word on the street was that the Japanese would attack us, yet opinion was deeply divided on this score. Everybody feared it. The government said it was impossible, yet we had curfew and frequent blackout practices. We were committed to darkness.
I couldn't see my room but knew it contained only what I needed. My few touches of personal comfort were my clothes, books and sketchpads. I constantly drew. I longed to light a candle and draw but none of us were allowed light in case the enemy got funny ideas.
It took me a long time to fall asleep.
Morning couldn't come fast enough for me. I heard cocks crowing. Most of them would probably be dead within the hour, their entire bodies used in different foods. I washed myself, slipped on my haole businessman clothes and greeted Milaina who was busy shouting to one of the men who'd come around too early for sexual services.
"You can't climb the stairs now," she yelled.
I took the back exit. Her voice was so loud I could hear every word.
"Melody? You can't see her anyway. She's having her flowers."
I already knew this was trade speak for menstruation.
I raced out onto River Street. I didn't have much time, but I planned to enjoy it. Well some of it, anyway. Chinatown was a different place by day. It was my hometown again. I stood out front, smiling as I watched the women of the neighbourhood preparing for the day. The older Chinese women carried vegetables home from the stalls on Market Street. They shuffled in tiny, awkward steps. Most of them lived in constant pain from having their feet bound as infants to keep them small. Still, they kept up a fast clip.
The Korean women always intrigued me with their big, boxy, colourful dresses that were as ornate as the Japanese women's traditional kimonos but huge. Simply huge. The Japanese women, however, wore the most ornate outfits, their kimono a lot more formfitting, their zori slippers revealing pretty ankles and toes.
The neighbourhood was waking up. I turned the corner and walked up to Hotel Street. The brothel district comprised only a few square blocks bordered by River at one end and Beretania and Nu'uanu at the other. Though Hotel Street was the predominant location of the district's brothels, the other streets had them too. It was amazing to me how even the new guys, fresh off the ships, knew where to line up.
Before the war started, some of these had been half-decent hotels but now they had been stripped down to bare essentials. A few hard chairs for the 'bull pens' the prostitutes needed to keep the men as they went from room to room. A bed. A washbasin. That was it.
I walked up to King Street where the lei sellers stood in a long line, holding deliciously long leis, hoping that the sailors wanted fresh flowers. A few local women selected leis. Hawaiian women always liked the haku or head leis and I found these beautiful to behold. I picked an orchid lei. It had no scent but would last longer than some of the others. I wanted it for my room. One of the beautiful young Hawaiian girls, who roamed Chinatown all day long with leis for sale draped over both arms, wore a pink hibiscus tucked behind her left ear. She smiled at me.
The gesture was lost on me. The flower let me know she was single. Had she been a boy, I'd have asked her to marry me.
I took my lei, bought some oranges at the Yuen Yuen Company Limited, a big grocery store. It was the only one that wasn't crammed and also, when it was closed, I never saw rats crawling all over the produce. I looked in at Miller's. Lauro wasn't in yet. Eugene Miller who owned the place was a kid. As in, he was about twelve years old, but told the law he was older. He paid his 'taxes' like everybody else and was considered the most talented tattoo artist in all the islands. A sign on his shop window advertised his services, touting him as the youngest and most talented tattoo artist. He sure didn't lack confidence. He often commanded a few bucks more than the three-dollar standard. It meant more tax for the officials and more money in his pocket. I knew Eugene's exalted position hurt Lauro tremendously.
Eugene was tattooing an American eagle on a sailor's arm. The guy was laughing. Six-thirty in the morning and the sailor was already drunk.
The loud music funnelling out of the Trade Winds bar meant gin and rum was on its way. Guys stormed the bars for their four drinks. Some kept shooting pool, others played pinball. For those who were really bored, drink was the thing. They were each only allowed four before they were turned out for the next load of customers. To speed things up, the bartenders usually served all four shots together. The booze was nasty to taste, but effective.
I raced over one block to the prophylaxis station squeezed between a bar and a penny arcade. Set up the US Army, the stations were mandatory for servicemen, and, according to the police department where I got my licence, especially for me. I'd been told to come each Wednesday. I'd only been in business a day, but I didn't want to start making waves by skipping appointments already. This was my first experience and I was a little nervous.
The man at the desk didn't know me. He took my name and seemed to assume I'd seen a whore.
"Urinate into this jar," he said, thrusting it at me.
I stepped into a cubicle that had no curtain or door and peed. He took it from me and pointed to a basin and told me to wash my exposed parts. I assumed he meant my hands and elbows and wondered if they were dirty.
"No, no. Your wick and balls," he boomed.
I started washing, but the soap smelt terrible. It was like washing myself with tar.
He handed me another jar, which he told me contained colloidal silver solution. I had to, as he put it, dip my wick into it and swab it and my balls with ointment. Oh, hell no. The stuff was like thick, gooey, paste and would be impossible to wash off. I had clients to service. As soon as his back was turned, I stuffed my cock back into my pants. I'd only come here as a last resort in future.
"Your urinalysis is clean," he said. He held some litmus paper just above the rim of the jar. "Any sign of the disease and your acid levels shoot up."
You don't say? "Thank you."
I guess I didn't look scared enough, because from under a large piece of blotting paper on his desk, he withdrew a large colour photograph.
"This is what VD looks like, son."
I felt the bile rising in my throat when I saw the red, raw penis in the photograph he slid towards me. Two hairy, chubby male fingers held the flaccid tool to the camera. The head oozed thick, yellow pus. I turned my face away.
He put the photo back under his blotter, a smug expression on his face. I raced back to my room, noticing a little old Hawaiian lady lined up with a bunch of servicemen. I caught the joking and teasing, to which she was oblivious.
"Tutu, auntie," I said, taking her arm, "You're in the wrong line."
"I am?" She looked puzzled. "Isn't this the line for bread?"
Shaking my head, I led her down the block. She'd been standing in line for a hooker. It happened all the time. At the bakery, I was relieved to see she wouldn't have to wait long. I stood a moment, making sure she was okay.
"Thank you." She gripped my arm. She looked lost and frightened.
I realised like a lot of older locals, she feared even the daylight hours of the frenzied, drink-infused fervour of Chinatown.
My room was ready. A clean sheet on the bed, a clean towel at the washbasin. I could smell the silver solution on my hands and cursed the rigours of the health regime. I draped my lei over the bedside table and washed up quickly, reminding myself Hawaii prided itself on being the least VD-infected military service in the United States. Milaina had taught me how to detect the clap in a client but I'd been lucky so far. I would be even more careful now I'd seen that horrible photograph.
She tapped at my door. I was ready for my first customer of the day.
He was a half-American, half-Chinese serviceman. I got a big kick out of dealing with him. American Chinese and Japanese servicemen were not off-limits to prostitutes, but a few had been turned away by brothel madams, mistaking them for local workers.
"Howard said you were the best," my new client said.
I thanked him and got to work, fiddling with his pants.
"Can you suck it? Will you suck it?" he asked.
"Of course."
"I just got in," he said. "I was stationed here before the war...oh...that's so good."
I had gently led him to the bed, unzipped his pants and went for it. When I got busier, my three-minute rule would be enforced.
Next door, another man moaned.
I didn't know the name of my client, but he went on talking as I sucked on his slender, hardening pole.
"Junior engineer," he was saying. "I ship out at Christmas. I'll be back. Oh..."
He came hard. I cleaned him up. He gave me an impulsive hug and as soon as he was gone I spat out his semen. It had tasted weird and I couldn't bear to swallow it.
Man, the female prostitutes always said they could service more men than a guy could. So far nobody had asked me to fuck them. I hoped they would. I wouldn't have minded a dick in my ass either, but the second guy wanted head, too.
"A friend of Howard's?" I asked, trying to be friendly.
"Who?"
He was not as talkative as Junior Engineer but tasted a whole lot better. My morning went fast when I pretended all my clients were all my sweet and loving Lauro. By the late afternoon, I'd taken care of seven men. I was a little dazed. I didn't find the work erotic. I found it...therapeutic. For the men, that is. Most seemed lonely. It was hard being homosexual on a ship where the motto seemed to be, "Men Who Won't Fuck, Won't Fight," so they all pretended to be climbing the stairs to see one of the women.
Climbing the stairs. That was the euphemism everybody used for visiting a whore. By the end of the day, I'd had eleven clients, but I craved sex. Real, actual, loving, passionate sex. Now that I thought about it, Lauro had denied me for a couple of weeks. We'd almost been caught by my father, and since then, he'd been petrified. I missed Lauro so much. I couldn't wait to tell him about my increased business and how, in spite of everything he said, I didn't just crave cock. I only craved his.
There was a lull in business around seven o'clock and the women in the house begged me to go out and buy them food. I took a list of things they wanted and ran out to the street. It was jammed as usual. I looked into Miller's and was surprised to see Lauro's chair empty.
"Any idea where he is?" his friend and closest ally Nestor asked me.
I shook my head. I was starting to worry. It wasn't like him to miss a whole day of work. He was supporting his entire family. A huge family. I finished shopping for the ladies and felt suddenly adrift. I'd taken up my work thinking that, between us, Lauro and I could make a lot more money than we could with any other work. We'd told each other a year. Most female prostitutes lasted a few months of the grueling, cloistered work. I was certain that I could take the pressure because I'd have a little more freedom than they did. I was supposed to work twenty out of twenty-eight days.
Lauro and I had promised those eight days to each other. I took a deep breath and walked back to the Midway. I was about to turn the corner when I saw him. He was coming out of the Ritz Rooms on Beretania Street. He was with his dad. My heart clenched. He'd clearly been climbing the stairs...to see a woman. Lauro's gaze caught mine and he glanced away. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed.
I went to meet him in the alley behind Miller's as usual the following night. It had been a long day for me, made more difficult by not being able to talk to him. I'd tried to tell myself all night that Lauro had to put up with me fooling around with other men, I could put up with him fucking a whore. Better a whore than a wife. The reality that his family would start putting pressure on him to find a woman and get married had never been so real until I'd caught him outside the Ritz. I glimpsed him inside the tattoo parlour and was glad he'd showed up to work.
He came outside and seemed happy to see me. He smiled and touched my arm.
"Sorry about yesterday. My father...he wanted to...you know, visit a girl for his birthday. It was important to him."
"I'm sure your mother thought so, too."
He gave me an odd look. I realised women in his family's culture had less significance than even their livestock. Having a good horse or cow seemed more important than a good wife. A horse had no say in decisions affecting its life. Neither did Lauro's mother.
For a moment, he stared at the ground.
"He wanted to sleep with Jean O'Hara."
I was surprised. She was the most famous whore in all the islands. Men said she was one of the few Hotel Street workers who wasn't a bum fuck. They said she did pretty good things to a man in three minutes.
"Wait," I said. "She's at the Rex Rooms though, not the Ritz."
"Yeah, so we found out."
He sighed. "I have to go. My dad...he doesn't hold his liquor well. He had a bad night. I'm worried about how he'll act at home. You'll come Sunday, won't you?"
"Who did you fuck?" I had to know.
"Does it matter?"
I shrugged. "I want to know."
"She said her name was Suzette." He said it with a glint in his eye that alarmed me.
"You enjoyed it." I was surprised.
He looked sheepish. "Very, very much."
I wanted to make sure I hadn't misunderstood.
"You had sex with a woman and you enjoyed it."
He shrugged. "Yes."
"Have you had sex with a woman before?"
"Of course?"
I was so shocked I couldn't respond. I must have misunderstood when he told me he loved men but felt family pressure to marry a woman.
"Look, my father likes hookers, honey. I go with him. It's something we do together. Cockfighting, drinking...and then a nice, hot fuck."
"With a woman."
I couldn't imagine in a million years having sex with a woman to make my father or anybody else happy. I felt miserable and foolish. "What were all our plans for then?"
"Tinder..." His hand reached for my cheek and fell away as if he'd been singed. "I missed you. I..." He pulled at a loose thread on his T-shirt. "She wasn't you, Tinder, but yeah. It was nice."
Lauro leant into me and kissed my cheek with a loud smack. He took hold of his bicycle and threw his leg over it.
"I'll see you Sunday."
"But that's two days from now."
He didn't respond.
So I asked, "What should I bring?"
"Food. My father likes anything...uncommon."
He took off before I could question him further. I wandered back to my room, feeling very sad and very hungry. I turned around and walked back to Wo Fat's. I found a stool by the counter on the first floor and ordered chop sui. As usual, I ate it quickly. As I walked back along the street, I glanced inside Bill Ledderes' saloon, about the most popular bar in Chinatown because it had a fake grass hut and tons of décor one associated with the South Seas. The music wafting from it was pure honky-tonk. I missed the sound of true Hawaiian music.
At the end of the block stood the Black Cat saloon, another favourite with the servicemen who filled the place up day after day. I threaded my way through the crowd on the street and saw a couple of kanakas, locals, beating up a drunken sailor. This happened all the time thanks to overcrowding, cheap, rough booze and the sense of invasion some locals felt. I thought about intervening, but knew I was outnumbered.
I hated any sense of injustice but I couldn't get all bruised up and work. I was about to change my mind when I saw a couple of sailors run to their friend's rescue. I was relieved to be off the hook and walked back to my room.
As I climbed the back stairs, Milaina was waiting for me. She pointed to Melody's room.
"She got da clap bad. She in da hospital."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is she okay?"
"She will be." She inclined her head towards the kitchen.
I followed her in there.
"Are you getting a check up next week? You know you have to."
"I went yesterday."
She shook her head. "Dat no good. You gotta get checked again. Now Melody is in trouble, all my girls gotta go again lickety-split."
Her gaze on me was sharp. I really didn't want to go through it again, but I had known tests were mandatory. I told her how humiliating the routine had been at the station the previous day.
"Better that than VD. You gotta go. Lickety-split." Milaina enjoyed learning funny English expressions and using them as often as possible.
"I know a good doctor. He treat all the girls. You gots to go ev'ry week. Thirteen dollars. You wants to stay in business, yeah?"
Yeah, I did.
It was a steep chunk of change. My licence to sell my body had cost me a dollar for a whole year. Keeping clean was a lot more expensive. My first day off was Sunday. As soon as she gave me my cash for the week, I'd handle stashing it safely.
"You know why they call VD da clap?"
"No, Milaina, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
"You one cheeky boy." She wagged a finger at me. "If you get da infection, the doctor clap both sides of your penis. Hard. It hurts. All the men say so. Betta you get 'em checked lickety-split."
"I will, I promise."
Milaina had been happy to have me come and work with her. She was hungry for money and had a spare room. She was right to insist I follow the rules. I just wasn't thrilled about the nasty silver solution.
"Yes, you go Tuesday morning. I already told him."
It was a long haul for me until Sunday. I cashed out with Milaina who point-blank asked me where I stashed my poker chips.
"In my room," I said, trying to look innocent.
"Mo betta you keep it in the safe, Tinder."
"It's okay. I like hanging onto my chips."
She gave me a hug after we settled up and I felt a pang of guilt that she was nicer to me than the ladies. They had a rough time of it. There were so many things they couldn't do. I walked past Melody's room. She was lying on her bed, smoking a cigarette and reading a copy of Life magazine. I had my swimming trunks on under my nice gentleman's clothing, my beach towel rolled up under my arm and a bag of passion fruit and cherimoya for Lauro's dad.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
She fixed me with her large blue peepers. "Like somebody shoved a lit match inside me."
Wow. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can I bring you back anything?"
She looked surprised. "Can you bring me some oranges and cherries?"
I smiled. "Of course."
"Thanks." She brightened a little and went back to reading.
Outside, the day was cool and crisp. Things were as hectic as ever. I walked up to Nu'uanu and took the streetcar. The motorized streetcar was a far cry from the mule-led ones my father rode as a boy growing up in Honolulu. He had always felt sorry for the mules that worked up to sixteen hours a day. Now, mules were still used on outer islands for plantation work. I hoped they led better lives than their streetcar brethren. I squeezed into a seat next to a well-groomed family. The little girls wore pretty frocks, white cotton gloves, white ankle socks and shiny, patent leather black shoes. I felt their stares and it made me very uncomfortable. Did they know I was a whore?
The streetcar was packed with good, solid citizens. I didn't see any sailors. They were discouraged from heading uptown, unless they wanted to swim at the beach at Waikiki. I was glad I'd dressed up. We took the Ala Moana boulevard that ran along the oceanfront. Honolulu Harbor glistened, in spite of the heavy battleship presence. Some hula girls were doing a dance on the stretch of grass between the sand and the street. A couple of musicians were playing gourd drums and ukulele to a crowd of grinning sailors.
They say when you're watching the hula, you should keep your eyes on the dancer's hands. Let me tell you, these sailors...they were looking everywhere but the dancers' hands.
We kept heading towards Diamond Head and the atmosphere changed. Many of the passengers disembarked on Fort Street. I watched the nice, neat family walking up towards the churches that lined both sides of Queen Street.
As we passed the Crossroads of the Pacific sign at the Kau Kau Korner, I saw that business was brisk at the twenty-four-hour café, judging by the cars parked around it. You could get anything you wanted there, all day long. Charbroiled meat and chicken, waffles, salad. Standing on the corner of Kapiolani Boulevard and Kalakaua Avenue, Kau Kau shared space with Lippy Espinada's service station and used car lot, but most people came for the sign.
At any time of the day you could see servicemen posing for photos beneath it. Hawaii was called the Crossroads of the Pacific and the sign bore several more beneath it pointing in different directions; London, New York, Tokyo, Los Angeles, Tahiti, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro...I think I was the only guy in town who had no interest in posing underneath the sign. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I disembarked at the corner and walked over to the Liberty House store. My family home was nearby, up towards the mountains on Queen Kapiloani, but my dad was one of the shipment officers here. I walked towards the back where he had his office in one corner. I'd always loved coming to Liberty House as a kid. You could find things from England, China and the US mainland and I noticed the shelves looked under stocked. There were a lot of clothes for working, a huge shortage of toys. It was hard to get things shipped over to the island that weren't deemed essential.
The only military people browsing the racks were ranked officers. They were the ones with money, as were some of the older, more established islanders.
My father came to his office door and greeted me. He looked thin and a little grey. He'd looked that way since my mom passed just over three months ago. Her death had brought me home. I stood in the doorway, nodding to his associates. My dad's gaze took in my appearance and I could tell I hadn't embarrassed him.
"Bill, Charlie, you remember my son, Tinder."
I stepped forward and shook their hands.
"Look at this." My father reached across his desk for a long green pole, which was leaning against the wall. "What do you think of it?"
I studied at it. It was about six-feet tall and filled with pre-drilled holes all around it.
"What is it?" I truly had no idea.
My father's expression soured. "A Christmas pole."
I stared at him, perplexed.
"Christmas trees are forbidden to be imported because they're not deemed important. So, we came up with this substitute."
"A pole." I couldn't believe it.
"We've got a huge shipment coming just in time for Christmas."
"Of green poles." I wanted to make sure I was hearing him correctly.
"Tinder, for an architect, you have no imagination. The customer builds his own Christmas tree. The holes allow him to stick the greenery in of his choice. Can't you see it? Bowers and branches, glass ornaments, an angel on top. A bargain at four-dollars apiece, don't you think?"
"I...ah...yes. You're right, Dad."
We had our weekly cup of coffee at his desk. I didn't get him to myself. He kept talking shop with his co-workers and I drank the weak, lukewarm liquid in silence. Liberty House was even cutting back on the amount of coffee they gave their staff.
His co-workers left us alone just as I'd been ready to give up. I wanted to talk to my father, but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of my income. I needed a bank account, though legally, I wasn't supposed to own one.
"Next Sunday, we'll meet for breakfast at the Moana, okay?" He patted my hand. "It would have been your mother's forty-seventh birthday."
"Yes, I know."
Some days it hurt to talk about her. Some days, the thought of her made me smile. My mother loved violets, duck figurines and the movies of Gary Cooper. She always said he reminded her of my dad. She'd died a horrible death due to colon cancer, but it happened so fast. She'd died four weeks after her diagnosis.
"How is work?" he asked me finally, a serious look on his face.
Before I could respond, his voice dropped.
"It's so weird, Tinder. Speaking as many languages as I do has meant I'm assured employment here when they've released so many other employees, and yet, I can't use my language skills on the phone. It makes it very difficult."
"I'm not following, Dad."
"It's illegal to speak any language on the phone other than English now. It's almost impossible talking to my counterparts in China and Japan. It's illegal to even say aloha on the phone now."
This was news to me. I expressed sympathy for his situation and left him in his office, playing with his Christmas pole. It worried me. If there was no Japanese invasion coming, then why was everyone acting as if there was? No toys for kids, no Christmas trees...no Hawaiian. No aloha.
My dad had followed me outside. He touched my arm. "Is everything okay, Tinder?"
"Yes, Dad." I wanted to reassure him.
He led me outside. "I know these tough times are hard. I wish I'd been able to get you a job here."
"Yes, dad, I know you tried."
He gave me a quick handshake and pointed to me. "Remember now, next Sunday."
"I won't forget."
Outside there was another stark reminder that we were at war and in spite of all protestations, invasion was feared. Rolls and rolls of barbed wire stretched along Waikiki Beach.
The thinking, according to the newspaper reports, was that should any Japanese soldiers reach Waikiki via submarine, they'd be in for a rude awakening should they swim to the shoreline. The two grand hotels of the island, the Royal Hawaiian and the Moana, had commanded high room rates before the war for visiting tourists. Now they functioned as places of rest and recreation for high-ranking military officials. Lowly military men couldn't afford the tariffs, but the few businessmen who were still able to get passages to the islands also sought rooms here. Very well-to-do businessmen were also able to dine at the outdoor tables by the large banyan tree, the pride of Waikiki due to its beauty and humungous size.
I walked past the lanai where elegant men and women sat in the sun drinking coffee. I moved between the lanai of the Royal Hawaiian and its luxurious, tropical gardens.
It felt surreal to watch genteel men and women learning archery, playing miniature golf and croquet. It was as if there was a determination to be normal, yet none of these pursuits were normal in Hawaii. I saw a woman playing ukulele and laughing as she stumbled over the strings with clumsy fingers. I walked out onto the sand. I almost laughed. It had been raked, as if it were a zen garden. I felt bad stepping onto the careful lines, but I had no choice if I wanted to get to the ocean.
The sense of freedom I felt when my toes squelched in the fine yellow grains was almost as good as the moment I dived into the cool, frothy water. I splashed around a bit, aware of a darkening above my head as I dipped down to observe shells at the bottom of the sea.
I came up for air, worried the fin near my head was a shark until I saw the black legs on either side of what I knew now was a surfboard. I was very happy to see it was Duke Kahanamoku, Hawaii's most famous surfer and our greatest Olympic champion with five gold medals to his credit. He was around fifty years old but still the handsomest man ever. His body was hard, tight, muscular and beautifully defined. His teeth were perfect and white, his laugh...oh his laugh sounded like a merry waterfall.
He wasn't gay, not at all. But I found myself treading water, swallowing a bunch as I gaped at him.
"How are you, Tinder?"
"Duke. Wow...look at you."
He laughed again as I spat out a mouthful of water.
"Where's your board, brah?" he asked.
My board. Wow...it had been a long time since I'd surfed.
"Duke, it's so good to see you."
"And you, kid."
"Hey, I heard you got married," I said.
His laughter lit up his whole face. "Nothing like the love of a good woman."
His skin was black, a beautiful colour. Pure Hawaiian, I knew it was his natural colour, deeply enhanced by many hours in the sun.
I turned to check the waves. I didn't want to be dumped with such a sea god hovering above me.
He reached out a hand and pulled me behind him onto his board. We paddled out to sea, hopping over baby waves. I longed to hold him from behind. The man was magnificent.
"Did you hear I'm in the military police force now?" he asked.
"No." I sure hadn't. I was surprised.
Duke always seemed an ambassador for peace and aloha. Not arresting people.
"It's only during this wartime period." He flipped the board around and scanned the horizon with a practiced eye. "I hate seeing the barbed wire on the beach...all the shit in Chinatown."
"I hate seeing the sand raked outside the hotels."
He laughed. "Hey, it gives our people jobs."
This was true. I had to get going. I slipped off his board and swam back to shore. I turned to raise my hand in greeting
"Never turn your back on the ocean," he called out as he took a big, deep wave.
We'd had fun together, Duke and I. I wished I could have stayed but I had just enough time for a quick wash before I had to leave for Lauro's family home. The water was lovely and cool. I felt a little guilty that my female co-workers were banned from Waikiki.
The truth was, I felt very lonely. I rinsed off at one of the kiosks near the hotel, dried off, got dressed and combed my hair. As I passed the hotel again, I was surprised to see an Asian family taking seats at a table on the lanai. The woman was beautiful. She looked Chinese, her husband was white and a younger man I assumed was her son looked directly at me. He was about the most handsome man I'd ever seen. We stared at each other for a long moment. I wanted to throw myself at him. He was magnificent. There was something of a movie star-like quality to him.
I was just like my mother. I loved beautiful-looking people.
The streetcar that arrived as I walked out onto Kalakaua Avenue was packed. I grabbed one of the metal poles and stood on the outside rudder as we rounded the curve at the end of the road at Diamond Head and continued towards Hawaii Kai.
One of the oldest neighbourhoods in the islands, it was a source of frustration for true Hawaiians since the buildings that kept springing up, or had, until war had broken out, were right on top of the ancient Maunalua fishponds that had once fed the entire island.
Some of the fishpond remained, in small patches, but there was a lot of resentment from locals who'd relied on the ponds feeding them and their families for generations. The resentment struck me as a little racist considering that the housing that had been built in the area was to accommodate almost all the Filipino and Portuguese workers who'd been brought here to work in the sugar and pineapple plantations. Lauro's dad worked for Dole Pineapple, but in the cane-harvesting season, took part in that. Lauro's family was dirt poor and several families shared their land. I had met his father many times and he seemed to genuinely like me.
His family home was on the outskirts of Waimanalo, home of the Bellows Air Force Base that had just been declared a permanent military post. Lauro's family firmly believed an attack was coming and that Bellows would be a target. Opinion was strongly divided on that topic, too.
I got off the streetcar, passed Lee's store where two Chinese women were busy selling boiled peanuts and shave ice to local kids. I found Lauro's family home but it was empty of men. His mom pointed down the road and I got a bad feeling. The last time I'd come here, Lauro was attending a cock fight. I wasn't particularly fond of chickens, but I hated animal cruelty. Chickens and dogs ran all over the property and into the next door's yard.
The squawking I heard from what I recognised as the pit I'd visited before was heartbreaking. The men screamed and yelled, placing bets on two roosters in a ring. One seemed especially aggressive and I couldn't stand watching the way he dominated and struck his opponent. The fight was over, and soon Lauro and his father came away with a couple of dead roosters in their arms.
"Lunch," Lauro said, shrugging.
I wished his father a happy birthday. He'd gotten me the job at Dole and wasn't upset when I stopped working there. He believed I'd gone into business and liked that I still wanted to be friends with Lauro.
"Good see you," he said in broken English.
He was harder to understand than Lauro but I could usually make out his words. He said the letter p for the letter f and b for d. I agreed it was a pine day and tried not to react to the twisted, feathered bodies in his hands. I sure didn't salivate at the idea of chicken for lunch.
Lauro always slipped into his father's style of speech when he was home. I'd realised within days of meeting him that he made a special effort to speak better English when he was with me. As we sat in the kitchen watching his parents prepare lunch, he was quiet. He seemed to be sweating a lot. He coughed, claiming he was pine, but as soon as I got him alone, he became agitated when I tried to unbutton his shirt. He'd been scratching at his skin all through the start of his father's birthday celebration. Lunch was still being prepared when I cornered him.
I caught a glimpse of his skin. I was horrified.
"My God," I said. "What are those sores?"
We were at the back of his father's tool shed. We'd had sex there a couple of times and I wanted Lauro badly. I'd missed him so much. This was the first time I didn't have sex on the brain. Well, I did, but I had also been concerned about his weird behaviour.
"I don't know," he said, his voice low.
"They're all over your body."
"Only my chest and back."
"How is your penis?"
"My...can't you think of anything else?"
I had a bad feeling now. I knew all the signs of untreated gonorrhea. Milaina and the local police force had drilled them into me.
Lauro winced as I unzipped his pants. What I saw was horrifying. His penis had leaked pus all over his underpants.
"My God. You went to see a whore in this condition?"
He shook his head, tears flying down his face. "No. Two weeks ago."
"Two...?" I couldn't finish the question. No wonder he'd avoided sexual contact with me. "You saw a whore two weeks ago? What about when I saw you at the Ritz?"
"I pretended. I couldn't let my father know."
"Are you crazy? You could die from this, Lauro."
"No...no. I'll be okay."
"No, you will not be okay. Lauro. You need help."
"You can't help."
The smell from his penis was pretty bad.
"What is this?"
We both jumped. His father had caught us. My initial instinct to protect the man I loved by jumping in front of him gave way to common sense. Lauro needed urgent medical attention. Without it, the infection raging through his body would poison his vital organs.
His father stared at his pants, looking up into his face.
"You no say nothing to me. Why?"
Before Lauro could reply, his father ran from us. I followed, hoping he wasn't going to settle this with a gun. Instead, he came back with an old man in a robe. They exchanged rapid-fire Tagalog.
"They're getting a dog," Lauro said. "I told you not to say anything."
"A dog?" First the Christmas pole and now this.
I heard dogs whining and barking. Lauro and I joined the family in the backyard. The barbecue fire raged in the background. The old man was circling a black dog that barked at him. He stepped forward, kicking the dog in the head. It went down. It was a she, judging by the lack of balls. He screamed to Lauro's dad who came back with a rope. The dog breathed heavily, her eyes fluttering. Wrapping all four paws together, he hoisted the dog up to a tree, where she hung, upside down.
To my horror, he nicked at her throat. Blood squirted out. I watched the sweet, wonderful man I loved sucking the neck of the dying dog. Blood covered his face and chest. I couldn't watch anymore. His male family members took turns. I heard them shouting my name.
"Tell him I will bring him medicine," I told Lauro's cousin, Salvern. "Please tell him that."
He nodded. I left the house, trying not to be repulsed by what I'd just seen, but it was hard. I couldn't help it. I had seen chickens used in kahuna magic as a boy, but that had been a long time ago. I remembered a white chicken being sacrificed to save a young boy's life. It had worked, but the kill was quick, clean and far as I could see, painless. There had seemed a reverence, too, for the bird's gift. The hanging dog and Lauro sucking her blood would always haunt me. I staggered back down the hill and waited for the streetcar to take me back home.
Lauro didn't show up to work the next day. I asked at the prophylaxis station about taking some of their silver solution to him.
There was a different officer on duty and he was very kind.
"If what you observed is accurate then the solution won't work. Your friend requires immediate hospitalisation."
"I don't know if I can talk him into it," I said.
"Which unit is he in?"
"He's not a serviceman. He's a tattoo artist on Hotel Street."
The officer gaped at me. "He's Filipino? Why do you even care?"
"He's a friend."
The officer lifted a hand. "He's using tattoo needles and working at close quarters with enlisted men. Blood is involved. You're right. Write down his name and address for me."
Lauro's work with needles hadn't been my concern. His life and possible death were my biggest concern, but whatever got him immediate help worked for me.
All day, I worried about him. I had no idea how things were going for him. I slipped out a couple of times and went to Miller's. Nobody there had heard from him. I wanted to go see him but curfew made this impossible. I would have risked breaking curfew but realised if the officer had succeeded in getting him into a hospital, then Lauro wouldn't be home.
For four long days, there was no word and then he showed up at Miller's again.
I went right in and saw the frosty look in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I am pine."
"Lauro, I was so worried about you."
"I'm pine!" he shrieked.
"Tell me what happened."
"Are you my prend?" he asked.
His prend? Oh, friend. "Of course I am your friend."
"No, you no prend." He spat at the ground near my foot. He pushed me away from him.
I tried to grab his hands, the movement lifting his T-shirt. The awful, raw red sores on his torso had become even more infected.
"You go," he said. "You go. Now!"
I left, not wanting to make a scene, but I couldn't leave this alone. I asked Milaina to help me.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
I could see the dollar signs in her eyes. I described my plan. I needed two big guys and a car.
That night, as Lauro came out to the alley, I was relieved when he didn't look angry to see me. He seemed surprised when I introduced him to the two men. They bundled him into the back of the car. We drove him to Queen's Hospital. I knew they saw no colour barrier and would take him. My two helpers were in front, Lauro beside me in the backseat, his body running very hot.
He was delirious by the time we arrived.
"I scared," he whispered, his eyes glassy, his lips dry and cracked.
"I know, sweetheart," I said.
One of the men carried him inside for me and by the time I left, one of Lauro's kidneys had started to fail but the nurses promised me he would be okay.
I was forced to return to Chinatown because of curfew.
"He's going to be here for a long time," one of the nurses told me. "We'll take good care of your friend. Go home and get some sleep. You did the right thing. I promise you, he is in good hands now."
It had been worth almost a week's wages getting Lauro the help he needed. I slept better than I had in days, and the next morning, I asked Milaina if she would call the hospital for me. She had the only phone in the building and she was glad to do it, of course---for a price. Brothel madams enjoyed keeping their charges under their control. Some introduced them to morphine, which though illegal for whores to use, had flooded the island. Keeping the girls hooked kept them broke and therefore on their backs servicing men. Me, my addiction was Lauro. She called the hospital and they said he was in serious, but stable condition.
She knew Lauro, who had introduced me to her in the first place, so I knew her concern was genuine. Islanders, true islanders, had a different attitude towards race that visiting white people didn't share. To us, anyone who worked the land, anyone who kept the cycle of life going was Hawaiian. One race. We didn't care what colour they were. Lauro was one of us and she cared.
That afternoon, I had an unusual visit. It was the half-American, half-Chinese junior airplane mechanic who had been one of my first customers.
"I've been at sea," he said. "Ship needed repairs. I'm so happy to be back. You're all I thought about, Terry."
It felt good to see him, too. He seemed to be genuinely happy to see me, so I hugged him. The impulsive gesture must have unlocked some pent-up desire in him.
"I...I want to suck your cock," he said.
In two weeks of work, this was a first.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
His glazed eyes were not the fever I'd seen in Lauro's. This was sheer, naked lust.
"Please. It's all I think about. You have to show me how. I think about the men on the ship and if I ever tried anything on board, I'd be court-martialled."
"I understand." I was worried we were using up our three minutes. It had been a week since I'd had any release and that was by my own hand. Each and every man I'd serviced had wanted me to suck their cocks, and I had.
Shucking down my pants, I sat on the bed and the junior mechanic fell to his knees, his head burrowing between my legs. For the first time since I'd worked the cubicle, I was the one afraid of being heard. The junior mechanic sucked my cock hard, making me jump. I had to show him how to make an O of his mouth so I wouldn't feel his teeth. He learnt fast. His mouth bobbed up and down on me and I began to feel the pleasure spike in my tailbone. I felt his fingers gripping the base of my shaft. I was going to come. I began to panic that our three minutes would be up and I was certain they already were but to my great relief, no knock came at the door.
I started to come and I felt the bliss wash over me in great tides. I felt it all the way to my toes. My feet came off the floor and I humped the junior mechanic's face. Poor guy. He wasn't used to it. He took his mouth from me, but stayed with me, his fingers milking my cock.
"You liked it huh?" He looked adorable and sweet with my juices all over his face.
"Oh, yeah. Very much." I touched his cheek.
He looked damned happy. "Thank you, Terry." He reached up and kissed me. He left the room as soon Milaina knocked.
"I hope I see you again," I croaked. I wanted to ask his name, but he left before anybody saw him. I washed up quickly and heard the next arrival coming in for Melody who was back at work. I closed my eyes to the images of the ravages of gonorrhea. I hoped she was all right.
"Terry, are you ready?" Milaina asked at the door, her voice soft.
"Ready."
She poked her head in. "They all lined up for you today, boy." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Move 'em out lickety-split and I'll get 'em out the back way."
I was surprised to find that Howard, my very first customer, was back. His broad grin matched my own. I was so lust-crazed after my ecstatic orgasm that he got the blow job of a lifetime. I hoped there would now be at least one man on Hotel Street not complaining about getting a bum fuck.
My day was busier than usual, but, as Milaina observed, my business picked up by the day.
"I have a request for you to make a call to another hotel," she said.
That was unusual. "Which hotel?"
"The Moana."
That wasn't just unusual, it was surreal.
"I didn't think the Moana was available to anybody except military right now," I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "He isn't just anybody. He's a very important businessman. He wants to see you Saturday night. He will have somebody pick you up at eight forty-five. He wants you to meet him at his room at nine o'clock. He's paying you forty-five dollars. He's taking care of the arrangements for the room, too."
"For three minutes?"
"No, funny boy. He wants you for one hour."
Nice. I thought about it. "What about curfew? I'm afraid of running late."
She shook her head. "He says you can stay there. He is only renting the room for you. He must return to his family." She paused. "He called me and asked me all about you, then said he wanted to see you lickety-split."
I smothered a smile. She sure was in love with that expression.
"Terry, if he wants more sex, he must pay you. You have any problems, you call me. I will take care of it. He's bringing the money to me later."
The dollar signs in her eyes sparkled like polished diamonds. I understood in that moment why she'd agreed to my spending the night in the hotel room at no extra charge. She hoped to make this a regular date.
I couldn't help feeling excited. I wondered how this businessman knew about me and couldn't help feeling aroused at the idea of a little more time in luxurious surroundings with someone I hoped was nice.
That evening, around dusk, business had slowed and I went down to my room for a longer wash and to change my clothes. Melody knocked at my door, excited. She was a beautiful woman, dressed now in filmy nightwear. Her long, pale legs tore at me. I always felt guilty that I could frequent Waikiki beach and the girls could not.
"Terry, your fancy man is here bringing Milaina his money for Saturday night."
There were few secrets in our house.
I ran to join her at the window. I saw a sleek black Delahaye 135 convertible at the back entrance. These were rare vehicles on the island and I knew the man must have money. I knew about the cars after seeing a documentary at the Waikiki Theater about how the French government had allowed a few American dignitaries to ship them out of the country. Of course, I'd instantly coveted the vehicle. I saw the man walking back to his car and felt the smile at my lips lighting up my entire soul. Until he turned around. I thought it was the Asian man I'd seen at the Moana with what I assumed were his parents. It was, in fact, the older man. He gazed back at the hotel, but he didn't see me.
Melody gasped.
"You know him?" I asked. I felt such bitter disappointment it was hard for me to feel the same excitement.
"Sure I do. That's Dingxiang Qui."
"You say that like I'm supposed to know who he is."
"He is a very wealthy businessman. Owns most of Chinatown." She gave me an appraising look.
"He is quite attractive for a Chinese man," she said. "There's something about him."
I felt my stomach muscles relaxing. Listening to all the girls talk, the only men they ever complained about were the Portuguese workers who were now off-limits to them anyway. Maybe Dingxiang Qui would be okay. Oh! But I'd hoped it was the younger man...
She stared out the window again. We watched the car pull away.
"You're so darn lucky," she said. She turned to me. "Can I trust you to keep a secret?"
"Of course."
She put her mouth to my ear. "I'm arranging passage back to San Francisco. I'm getting out of here."
"I'll miss you, Melody."
She smiled. "If you want, I'll write to you. If you ever want to come and visit, you'd be welcome."
She looked happy. The happiest I'd ever seen her.
Maybe it was true that being a prostitute was a long, hard life for these girls, so hard the average one gave up after a few months. Some, I'd been told, made a bunch of money then returned to a normal life on the mainland. None were allowed to stay once they gave up their works, but I would miss Melody.
The following morning, Saturday, I got up very early. I was very tired from a busy week of work and the emotional stress of worrying about Lauro. Melody waylaid me.
"Are you going to the beach?"
I shook my head. "Visiting a friend in the hospital."
"Oh." She looked disappointed. "They're letting us swim at the beach down at the end of the pier. It's not Waikiki but it's the beach."
"How wonderful," I said.
"Please come with me."
I shook my head. "I can't."
"But---"
She coloured suddenly. She'd just realised, I guess, and she was very upset.
"Honey, I'm a whore, same as you but you can't be seen out with me. You can't be seen out with any man. Remember?"
Hot tears flew down her cheeks.
"I hate this life!" She ran down the hall to her room.
I sighed. There was nothing I could do. The rules of the sex game were deliberately cruel. I slipped out the back door and ran to Hotel Street. At the back of Miller's, I was surprised to find Lauro's bicycle still stashed behind the garbage. I took it, dusted it off and pedaled fast, all the way to the hospital on Punchbowl Street.
Queen's was the only hospital on the island that treated native Hawaiians and the workers who did the jobs no white man wanted. Created and almost entirely financed by King Kamehameha IV and his incredible wife, Queen Emma, it was their dream to protect their own when foreigners brought in new and rampant diseases, which kept killing our people.
In my lifetime, I'd seen smallpox, leprosy, bubonic plague, syphilis, typhoid fever and measles decimate our population. Though the hospital had been built in 1854, our people still struggled. It always galled me that foreigners brought such catastrophic illnesses to us, yet didn't want to share hospitals with us.
A kahuna was in the building when I arrived. There was great excitement as he moved from bed to bed. I followed the nurse who led me to Lauro's bedside. I turned and watched the kahuna, who radiated power and mystery. I watched him taking his time with a man's bed sheets. He sniffed the top sheet, then the bottom. He started muttering some kind of incantation.
"That's how he can tell what's wrong with the person," the nurse told me. "He is a very great healer."
The kahuna's gaze flew to my face.
I didn't doubt it. Something about him enthralled and yet terrified me.
I smiled at him. He did not return my smile. His gaze felt as if it could see right through me. He resumed his chant.
Lauro looked so frail lying on his side. His hair looked dirty and damp. His eyes opened as I approached and wariness seeped into them.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I came to see you."
"You must go. My father is very angry that I am here."
"He saved your life," the nurse said.
"My father is still angry." Lauro's eyes looked yellow.
"His liver and kidneys keep giving him trouble." The nurse stroked a wet lock away from Lauro's eye. I felt a shimmer of energy and was not surprised to see the kahuna in the doorway.
He did the sheet-sniffing thing again and frowned.
"You have worked some magic," he said, in fairly decent English.
Lauro nodded. He tried to turn around to look at the kahuna who kept his hand on Lauro's brow.
"My father got help from the albularyo."
"This is not a curse. It is a sickness. Will you allow me to help you?"
Lauro swallowed. His breathing became shallow. I was almost sick with fright.
"Please, Lauro, please," I begged. "Let the kahuna help you."
"You won't tell my father?" Lauro's eyes leaked tears that his shaky hand tried to blot.
"No," the kahuna said. "Nobody here will tell him."
"I give permission." Lauro's tears increased. "Please don't tell him," he whimpered.
Within seconds he was asleep.
"You need to let him rest," the kahuna said. He gave instructions to the nurse in a low voice.
I left the room quietly. The nurse came up to me and said, "The kahuna senses danger around you. He said to be careful of anybody who knows your name."
"What? What do you mean?"
"That's all he said. I'm sorry. I promised I'd give you his message."
She went off to answer somebody's screams for a nurse. I tried to find the kahuna to clarify his cryptic message, but he seemed to have vanished.
Who knew my name? Lots of people. Danger? What kind of danger? By the time I rode back home in the brilliant sunshine, I wasn't frightened anymore.
Milaina had the radio playing in her office. It was The Three Little Fishes again, I seemed to hear that song everywhere.
I'd arrived just in time for my first client.
"What are you doing with a bicycle?" she asked me. "You know you can't bring that here. What if somebody thinks one of the girls rode it?"
"Sorry, Milaina."
"Hmph."
"I borrowed it from a friend and I forgot to take it back."
She wheeled it into her office and hid it behind the door.
"What are you going to wear tonight?" she asked, all smiles again.
I knew she was excited about my appointment with Dingxiang Qui. Now, I was excited. I was going to ride and fuck in high style for a change.
It was hard getting through the day. I kept thinking about my client and when it came time to get ready, I dithered over everything, selecting my best black suit and a white dress shirt.
His car arrived at eight forty-five and I climbed into the front seat beside the man who'd, well, bought and paid for me.
"How are you this evening?" he asked.
"I'm fine, thank you." I kept thinking of Lauro insisting he was pine. It hurt thinking about Lauro. I brushed his face away from my mind.
Dingxiang Qui drove very fast, the wind whipping our faces in an exhilarating way. By the time we arrived at the hotel, I felt high, as if I'd been sipping champagne, swinging from a chandelier all night. He drove into the garage, stopping at the short staircase that led up to the lobby.
"It's room two-eleven," he said.
"Aren't you coming with me?"
He gave me an odd look. "No. Why would I do that?"
I stepped out of the car.
"Just knock at the door as soon as you get to the room," he said and immediately reversed, swerving out of the driveway again.
How weird. I walked up the stairs to the lobby level. The hotel was still sumptuous and gorgeous, in spite of being overrun my military personnel. I'd heard from friends that 'Iolani Palace, our most beautiful treasure, had been almost destroyed by years of abuse by government officials using it as a base after overthrowing our monarchy and imprisoning our last ruling queen, Lili'uokalani.
It warmed my heart to see the Moana looking so lovely. She was well-lit, in spite of invasion fears. Outside however, was the stark reminder. There were no tiki torches in the sand or grass and I could see clouds of barbed wire lining the beach out front.
Turning left, I debated taking the marble stairway upstairs to the second floor. The elevator, the first that had ever been installed in the islands, opened and I moved towards it. My footsteps seemed to echo and I felt my cheeks flaming, as if everybody would know why I was here. Plush red carpeting inside the elevator cushioned my footfall. I was relieved to reach the second floor and stepped away from the chattering, giggling couples who'd been kissing each other right next to me.
I glanced to my left, but walked to the right once I figured out the room number progression.
I knocked at the door.
My heart skittered when it opened and I found myself facing the young man I'd glimpsed at the Moana with his family.
"Thank you for coming," he said, taking my hand and leading me into the room.
We could not let go of one another's fingers, or so it seemed to me. He closed the door, keeping his hold on me very light.
He was a few inches taller than me. His lean masculinity was a major turn-on for me. I couldn't guess his age but was desperate to touch his pale-almond coloured skin.
"I...I was afraid you wouldn't come."
That surprised me. "Why? I saw you on the lanai days ago and thought you were the most handsome man I'd ever seen." I paused. "Next to Duke Kahanamoku," I blurted.
He laughed, his face even more delicate and beautiful when he looked happy. "You think I'm as handsome as Duke? That's quite a compliment."
Finally releasing my hand, he said, "I didn't think you'd want to be with a Chinese man."
"You were wrong."
"Clearly." His lovely, coffee-coloured eyes bored into mine.
"I saw you too. I asked around. It took me a while but my uncle found you."
"Dingxiang is your uncle?"
He nodded. "My name is Jason Qui. What is your name?" Before I could respond, giving him my trade name, he spoke.
"Your real name."
I suspected he already knew it. After all, either he or Dingxiang had interrogated Milaina on the phone and Dingxiang had turned up and paid cash for me.
"Tinder," I said. "Tinder McCartney."
"Good," he said. "I already knew this but I wanted to make sure you would be honest with me. Now, take off all your clothes."
That surprised me. I realised this was the first time I'd been with a man for money where the sex would not be hurried, furtive...almost shamefully dirty.
I stripped to my boxer shorts.
"Leave them," he said. "I want to see my surprise."
He circled me and I started to feel like the last piece of steak left on the butcher's serving tray being inspected for fat.
"Very nice."
His hand touched my middle back. "You skin is very soft, and yet, I know you've worked in the cane fields. Even your hands are so soft." He took them into his, turning them over and back again.
"You're lovely, Tinder McCartney."
He knelt before me, sliding my shorts down. I felt his warm breath on my belly button and he made my cock harden instantly. He palmed the sides of my shorts, lowering them down my sides until they pooled at my feet. His nose ran the length of my shaft. His tongue followed the trail back up again. His licks were tender, short, and yet wickedly erotic. His licking began to speed up. Like a man hungry for food, he lapped and sucked along the shaft, his lips leaving a most trail to the base of my cock. He finally swept his tongue back to the head.
"You have a potent j+b," he said. "The life force is strong, yet sensitive. I wish to suck your j+b now."
He could have whatever he wanted. I was his. I stared down, watching his own cock tenting his pants at an awkward angle. I wanted him naked but could barely speak as he reverently sucked on me. His mouth worked magic. I'd never had a blow job like it. I was aware of falling back on the bed. His tongue worked my cock, his fingers fluttering over my balls.
I came so hard, extra hard, because he kept his mouth on me and I bit down on the urge to scream out, Yes!
He stayed on me until the last ripple of pleasure fled my body. He released me, it seemed with great reluctance.
"As soon as you undress me, I want to fuck you," he said, depositing a kiss on my ball sac.
I lost no time sitting up and undressing him. I couldn't wait to see him naked. He laughed at how excited I got.
"You're hard again?" He gazed into my eyes. "Are you like this with all your tricks, Tinder McCartney?"
"No. I'm never with them long enough."
I took all his clothes off, excited by his silk shorts. They were a deep blue and I couldn't help tracing the outline of the crimson dragon etched on them. The dragon's fire-breath crossed the vertical opening of his shorts. His cock yearned for release and I sucked it out through the neatly stitched hole. He had a nice cock, not too big, not too small.
"This will feel incredible when you put it inside me," I said.
"I will make your chrysanthemum---that is how the Mandarin people refer to the anus---explode. When I am deep inside you, you will experience a release you have never known before. We call it bàojúhu."
Holy shit. I wanted him in my ass that very moment. He spoke with a sense of arrogance, but the promise in his simple statement had me really worked up.
I grappled with his shorts, trying to get them off him, but he pushed me back, licking at my legs, trying to open my thighs with his jutting chin.
"Just lie there and enjoy what I am going to do with you," he said.
"Please take off your shorts. Don't make me wait. It's been so long since I was naked with a man. I can't wait."
His eyes flickered. "How long?"
I felt ashamed to admit it. "Months."
He stood then, removing his shorts with a downward slide of his hands. It was a thrill to see him, naked and wanting me, his hard cock straining towards me. He moved between my legs.
"Scoot up, Tinder." He knelt between my open thighs on the bed, his hands stroking the backs of my thighs and the cleft of my ass. He looked down at my ass hole for a moment.
"Your body is beautiful," he murmured and began his slow, oral assault on me.
He licked me for several minutes, each passing second sending fresh shafts of pleasure and desire through me. I kept twisting and turning, falling to my side, but still his face stayed glued to me. I hadn't been fucked for a long time and couldn't wait. He slipped a finger inside me as soon as he removed his tongue. He put it in gently at first and took it out, replacing his finger with his tongue again. His finger moved back into me, accompanied by a second.
His mouth moved to my cock head. He swallowed it as I came hard a second time. My legs gripped his head as his fingers scissored in and out of me. He kept his mouth on me again, taking everything I had to give him.
He rolled over on his back. His hard cock stuck up in my face and I took my time savouring the flavour of his juices. He was rich and creamy. It felt so nice to be naked with him. I kept my hands roaming his body as I sucked his sweet dick. It had been a long time since I'd enjoyed giving head like this. I gently rumbled his ball sac in my hand and I felt it pull up in my probing fingers.
With my free hand, I gently slapped on his ass hole. His eyes glazed over. The sensation I wanted to give him was of a man's thighs slapping against him as he fucked him. I kept my hand flat, the slaps light. His ass kept bouncing up to meet my hand and when I glanced at him, his glazed eyes remained half open as he tweaked his nipples. Two more slaps with a little increased pressure and he shot like a cannon deep into my throat.
"Chaofa, chaofa," he shrieked.
I had no idea what it meant, but I knew he wasn't telling me to stop. His body bucked when I took my mouth off him and licked his treasure trail.
"That's so good."
He moaned when I pressed my tongue into his belly button. It had been a wild guess but some men are very sensitive in that area as soon as they come. I wanted to lick his ass and he let me.
"Get my penis ready. I want to fuck you," he commanded.
I did.
His cock was slick with his juices and mine and when he took me, he lay me on my back entering me from above. He didn't kiss me until he was all the way in me.
"Is this good?" he asked, looking into my eyes.
I almost sobbed out, yes, instead, I kept my cool and nodded. He was only the second customer I'd had an orgasm with and this was deep and dreamy. My own orgasm crashed over me as he burst inside me.
"You feel it in your flower?"
"Uh-huh," I gasped.
I felt my body opening up to him, my ass muscles clamping down on his cock. His smile was sweet and so sexy. He stayed in me, his whole shaft twitching. I felt the rush of heat course from him to me.
The intensity passed into a warmth, like rocking in warm ocean water after a wonderful swell. I paddled in his liquid fire, feeling his cock withdraw from me.
"What a tasty dish you are, American whore."
He kissed me again and took himself away from me. I lay on the bed for a moment, watching him move around the room.
"I had them bring me food," he said, wheeling a silver tray covered in a starched white cloth towards us. "I hope you like lobster."
"Yes, I love lobster."
He sat beside me, shy suddenly as he tore a piece from the cracked half on the silver serving dish. He dipped it in butter and held it to my lips. I sucked it in, nibbling at his fingertips.
"I want to fuck you again," he said.
I scooted down so that my head rested on his thigh. "Good, because I can't wait, Jason. You are an incredible lover."
He shrugged, feeding himself some lobster. "With you I am. I never fuck women this way."
"You don't?"
He shook his head.
"You prefer men or women?"
He smiled. "I prefer to fuck men but spend my time with women."
"When was the last time you fucked a man? I think I'm jealous."
He laughed. I'd come to treasure that sound.
"Months. Like you. It was a whore in Hong Kong, from the Wan Chai district."
"Was it good?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
Jason fed me another piece of lobster. "I didn't realise...honestly until about a year ago that I prefer the sexual company of men. I stopped wanting vaginal sex with whores. I preferred milk jobs."
"Milk jobs?" I let my hand trail up and down his spine, stroking in a rhythmic way as I waited for his response.
"Between the breasts. I asked a couple of girls for anal. One said, yes. Then I struck gold. A man dressed as a woman. I've craved men ever since."
"Your uncle seems very...open and understanding."
Jason's laugh was short and sharp. "He wants my money. I inherited my father's business. My parents died last year and my uncle expected to get it all."
"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said. "You lost them both at once?"
"Yes." He got quiet for a moment. "My uncle recently married and if he wants to have a privileged life, he knows he has to take care of me."
"Is she the woman I saw you with the other day?"
"Yes." He pushed the table away. "You are only touching my back and yet, look how I want you terribly. How come no woman can do this to me?"
His eyes seemed bitter, dark and angry.
Yes, his cock was rigid. I could have softened the blow, but it must have been obvious to him.
"Probably because you are naturally attracted to men, Jason."
He frowned. "Yes, I suppose, although until you, I wasn't certain. Now..." His chin jutted towards the silk dragon shorts on the floor. "Now, I can only think of devouring you again and again."
I rolled onto my belly and he crawled between my legs. He slid his cock into me and after fucking me for one hot minute, he placed his legs on either side of mine, forcing my legs shut. At first, it felt as if I was being split in two he was so deeply imbedded in me, then the power surge through the base of my spine turned into utter delight.
"Oh, my God."
"Yes...Tinder...oh...so good."
He fucked me hard, coming right after I did. He collapsed on top of my back. I felt his heartbeat and mine, meeting, merging. He took himself out of me and turned me over. I felt his hot, wet mouth at my nipples, sucking each one until I cried out. He moved down to my cock and licked it.
"I have to go, my beautiful American whore."
He sucked me into his beautiful mouth again and I came, my feet resting on his thighs. As soon as he released me, his mouth moved to the tender space of skin near my thigh. He sucked and licked it, leaving a raspberry-coloured patch.
"Staking my claim, Tinder. I'll be in touch. I want to see you again."
"Oh, God, don't go," I implored.
"I have a companion waiting for me downstairs."
My voice came out in a jealous whisper. "Who is he?"
"Not he, Tinder. She. She is the daughter of a business associate. I'm half-white, half-Chinese. Completely rich. They all try to marry me off." He kissed my face. "Get some rest. You do want to see me again, don't you?"
"Fuck, yes."
He dressed quickly, leaving me lying there on the bed. When I checked my watch, we'd been together for exactly one hour. I think that was the moment I fell in love. He'd paid for an hour and gave as much as he took, an honourable man who'd left me a fine meal of champagne and lobster. I felt decadent and naughty as I popped the bottle and sipped. I wasn't supposed to drink but one glass wouldn't hurt me. After all, I was in for the night.
Now that Jason was gone, I took in my surroundings. He had dwarfed everything with his presence. I nibbled more lobster and bit into a crisp, steamed asparagus spear.
The room was elegantly furnished in the Art Deco style with large pieces of furniture carved from our native koa wood. Though the bedspread was an ornate, heavy gold brocade, there were selected pieces of native art augmenting the large bed and armoire. Delicate feather work leis decorated one wall in keepsake glass frames. A couple of honu---turtles---carved from lava stone decorated the table between the bed and the small chaise. I smiled when I glimpsed a silver-framed portrait of a Hawaiian surfer riding the waves by Diamond Head, circa 1919. It was my friend, Duke Kahanamoku.
Yes, it was an elegant, comfortable room.
Further investigation revealed that I had my own bathroom, which was rare in the island hotels. And a telephone. I wondered who I would call. I then found myself hoping Jason would call me. I picked up the receiver and put it down again. Ah, what a luxury, having my own phone.
From downstairs, I could hear the tinkle of music and laughter. I threw on my clothes and walked out of the room, looking down onto the ballroom dance floor. He was there, dancing with a woman, a smile pasted onto his lips. I realised he must have abandoned her to see me. I wonder if he'd told her he had a meeting. I retreated to my room. I pushed my half-eaten food and barely touched champagne into the hallway just outside my door.
I locked my door feeling a childish rage that he was having fun with somebody else. It hurt me. It was ridiculous. I never even thought twice about my tricks from Hotel Street, even the ones I liked. Hotel Street. With a jolt, I realised, like Cinderella, I'd have to return to my own version of the scullery in the morning.
Why didn't he pay for more time? Why didn't he want me for longer? Will I ever hear from him again?
I tortured myself with ridiculous, unanswerable questions as I took a long, hot bath, soaking in lily of the valley bath salts. I had no toothbrush with me but scrubbed my teeth with my fingertips. I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. I saw disappointment reflected in my eyes.
Forget about him, I told myself. Just enjoy the fact you still like sex.
My father was waiting for me at a table by the banyan tree the next morning. A string quartet played some Anglicised Hawaiian melodies on a raised platform, sandwiched between two palms. Locals called these tunes hapa haole or, half-white. Like so many other Hawaiian things, even our songs were being homogenised. My father stood to greet me, but my gaze was on the young woman beside him. I was certain he'd been holding her hand as I'd neared them, but he dropped it as soon as he saw me. My father shook my hand warmly and introduced me to his companion.
"Tinder, I'd like you to meet Linda Crane."
"Pleasure," she said, reaching up to shake my hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip.
"Tinder, what would you like?" my father asked as I opened the menu.
"Gordon," Linda said, slipping her well-manicured hand on my father's arm, "the iced papaya looks wonderful."
My father nodded. I had a bad feeling about Linda Crane and her perfect hands. Across the courtyard, I glimpsed Jason having breakfast with his aunt and uncle. His gaze fled from my face the second we locked glances. The young lady I'd seen him dancing with the night before was sitting on his other side. Great. Perfect.
The waiter arrived.
"What are poached eggs Vienna?" Linda asked him.
The waiter explained the difference between the hotel's two signature dishes. Eggs Benedict was a poached egg with bacon on an English muffin, topped with béarnaise sauce. Eggs Vienna had no sauce and came on whole wheat toast.
I barely followed the conversation. I was too busy staring at Jason. I had a direct line of sight over Linda's left shoulder. He had to turn slightly to glimpse me, which he did often enough that his family and breakfast date kept turning to see what he was looking at.
The surge of fiendish pleasure I took in knowing it was me, sustained me right through breakfast. I should have known my father had ulterior motives when he didn't balk at an extra seventy-five cents so I could order hotcakes with guava jam.
"How are things?" my father asked me.
"I'm fine, Dad. How is work?"
He told me that he still had hopes that toys and other things that made life pleasant would be allowed to be shipped to the islands by Christmas.
"At least we'll have the Christmas poles," he said, palming the check when it arrived.
I'd hoped to talk to him about my need for a bank account, but it was not to be. I'd just taken a sip of my second cup of coffee when my father spoke.
"There's something you should know, son. Linda and I are in love."
I blinked. The coffee scalded my mouth. "Excuse me?"
"Your mother wanted me to be happy. She didn't want me to be alone. She said I should get married again."
"My mother died three months ago." I heard my voice rising and saw my father's cheeks reddening.
"She wanted me to be happy," he said sullenly.
"And you're telling me this today?"
He opened his mouth, his gaze shifting to Linda, whose stare remained on my face. I knew then that this had been her idea.
"Today is her birthday and this is how you want to remember it, by introducing me to...her?"
I felt such anger towards them both, I was afraid of saying things I would regret.
"She's gone," Linda said.
"She is still my mother. And she had a name." I was aware of people staring at us. I glimpsed Jason half-turning in his chair, staring at me.
"She is still dead," Linda said.
"That's enough," my father said.
She looked surprised.
I sat with my pain, unable to handle my deep feelings of betrayal. I missed my mother terribly and now I was losing my father, too.
"This doesn't change anything, son," he said.
"Yes it does," Linda said. "We're getting married and moving to Maui. We've both got jobs at the new---"
"Not now, Linda." My father glared at her.
"You're moving to Maui?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Son...we're moving soon. In a few months. In the meantime, our house is still your home. You're welcome to come by any time. And I want to see you every Sunday, as usual."
"What is it you do exactly for work?" Linda asked.
I ignored her. "You should have waited, Dad. You just...should have waited." Excusing myself, I left the table. I moved as quickly as I could past the manicured lawns, the raked sand and down to Waikiki beach. Sand slipped into my shoes. I had nobody to talk to. I felt as if there was no point to it all. My father of all people, running around with the likes of Linda Crane.
He surprised me by following me to the beach. "Tinder."
I started to cry. God, it was hopeless. I wasn't a man. I was a marshmallow. "Why are you doing this, Dad? I still miss her."
"Don't you understand? I do, too."
"Then...why?"
"A man doesn't remarry because he hated his first wife. He remarries because he loved her. I loved your mother...and I can't get over her. I won't get over her. I'm not strong like you. I can't be alone. I loved being married."
"But she's awful."
"Not really. I hate to tell you, she's very nice. Not sensitive, maybe, but I hope you will be friends."
He hugged me and I did understand...sort of. I didn't like it, but I understood. I didn't like Linda Crane and didn't think I ever could.
"I have to go, Dad." I pulled myself away from him. "I need to be alone."
His hands fell away from me and he let me go. I bent to remove my shoes and socks and walked across the sand. It was hot. Burning hot. Unfortunately not hot enough to leave blisters, but I still felt like I was in the depths of hell.
The news of my mother's colon cancer had been a shock. My father had called my office to say that the supposed bowel obstruction she had been suffering from turned out to be polyps. They hadn't even told me about the obstruction. In his first call, he said the doctor thought they were benign. His second call days later indicated otherwise.
"Come home," he said. "She's in a lot of pain. They are saying she has three weeks to live."
It had been hard to get permission to travel to the islands unless the US government saw the trip as being important. My father had contacted Matson's shipping company through his contacts at Liberty House. Two days after his call, I boarded the magnificent white Lurline steamship. Until we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge, going home wasn't just a dream, it was a magnificent reality.
Unfortunately, I never saw my mother alive again. It took the ship five days to reach Honolulu, just like the Matson's promised. Our arrival had been spectacular and the journey sublime. It had started with champagne cocktails, and as the white and gold paper streamers hung from the ship to the shore, my journey ended with bad news.
Mom had died the day before I got home. Her funeral at Oahu Cemetery had been well attended. It had been a difficult day for my father and me but we were buoyed by the support of all the people who loved her. That was thing about my mother, Mary McCartney. People didn't just like her, they loved her.
I hadn't been to see her for a few weeks and felt guilty, but to be honest, I wasn't sure I could look at her gravestone knowing I was a three-dollar whore.
Feeling sorry for myself, I took the streetcar to the hospital to visit Lauro. They told me he'd checked out. It was a long trip back to his family home, so I crossed the street to the boardwalk and bought a pikake lei from one of the women there. It was a beautiful lei, about six feet long, two inches thick around. Its scent was intoxicating and called to my mind a childhood spent living in natural splendour. I remembered playing with my cousins, sliding down muddy banks on banana palms, picking coconuts, my father roasting breadfruit from our garden in an underground imu oven. I climbed trees all the time. I remembered my mother bringing me sandwiches and hauling them up to me in a basket pulley my father had created for me.
My mother had been afraid of heights and would never climb the trees with me.
"What do you see that I don't see?" she once asked me.
I told her I could see the Matson's Lurline steamship in the harbour. She'd looked shiny-eyed.
"One day I'd like to go on that ship."
Perhaps there was a small part of me that had known, even as I boarded it, that fate would deem that I took the ship for her, the day I was forced to say goodbye.
I took the long, steep climb up Nu'uanu Avenue towards the pali, cliff, where the Hawaiian Islands' first King, Kamehameha the Great had forced hundreds of vanquished men, women and children to jump to their deaths. I walked through the wrought-iron gates. Many great Hawaiians were buried here. The artist Jules Tavernier, industrialist Benjamin Dillingham, the father of American baseball Alexander J. Cartwright, and my mother.
There were no fresh flowers or leis at her grave. A stone angel looked over her and I plucked a pikake bud near the ribbon tie at the end and put it into the crook of the angel's elbow. I cleaned the grave of faded, worn blooms and draped the new lei across it. In the harbour, I saw a Matson steamship.
"Look, Mama, I see the Lurline," I whispered and walked away crying.
I took the streetcar to Hawaii Kai and walked up the hill past Lee's shop where children sucked heartily on shave ice. Lauro's family was not particularly pleased to see me.
There was a dead dog hanging from the tree. Blood dripped from its neck in hard plops. I tried not to look.
"My son is getting married, he is moving to Hilo, to get away from this curse," Lauro's father said.
At least, this was what I gleaned after some translation from his nephew and Lauro's cousin, Salvern.
"Can I say goodbye to him?" I asked.
The answer was no. I knew Salvern argued for me in their native Tagalog. I saw the sadness in his eyes when he told me that Lauro was moving to Hilo to work the taro patch that belonged to his intended wife's family. I saw the man's pity. Not just for me, but for Lauro.
Lauro was an artist. He would die working a taro patch.
I didn't want Salvern's pity. I wanted to see my friend, my lover, however I had no choice but to leave. I noticed the family dogs were awfully quiet. I always heard them barking. Maybe they were all dead. If they believed there was a curse, they'd probably sacrificed them all. I ran fast all the way back down the bottom of the hill.
It was a long walk back to Waikiki but it was a pleasant one. I passed the shuttered Honolulu Zoo. Though still filled with animals, it was off-limits to the public. I hadn't felt the same about the place since they'd shot dead the sad, beautiful elephant Daisy. I'd been sixteen when, in 1933, she trampled her zookeeper George Conradt. For three years before this, my mother had campaigned heavily to have more suitable housing constructed for the elephant. Confined at night to a tiny, ill-fitting shed, she was cruelly leashed from one leg via a thick chain to a short post.
Before Daisy's death, my mother had encouraged me to design a better home for Hawaii's only elephant. When the elephant lost her temper one evening as her keeper tried to lead her to her shed, police marksmen killed her. My mom and I went to the beach where Daisy's body lay for all of us to see before she was towed out to sea and dumped.
Daisy's death affected me tremendously because as a kid, I gave up my weekly scoops of Noaker's Velvet ice cream to help raise money for Daisy's upkeep. To my mind, she had been mistreated and would never have hurt George unless she'd simply lost her mind.
My mother encouraged me to keep dreaming, to be an architect. She was proud of me. One day, I would resume my career. My first target would be to redesign the Honolulu Zoo.
I tried not to feel sad about the loss of Lauro. The truth was I'd known since I'd met him that he was going to marry a woman. No ifs, ands or buts. I just thought he loved me enough to maybe change his mind.
Just past the zoo, stood the remnants of Ainahau, the once spectacular lands that had belonged to Hawaii's Crown Princess, Kai'ulani. After her untimely death at the age of twenty-four, her father, Archibald Cleghorn, had lived for many years and when he died, his will stipulated that her vast ten acres of property be given to the territory of Hawaii to be used as a park.
The gift was rejected and sold to the highest bidder. Now parcels of her lands were being used to build hotels. There were Princess Kai'ulani cottages and there were rumours of a bigger hotel pending. There were private homes also built into the parceled-off lands. Some of the original coconut groves remained and I walked through, admiring what was left of her teak trees, her pond and Kai'ulani's beloved banyan tree.
A bronze plaque erected on one of the strong roots of the tree commemorated our princess, who had befriended Robert Louis Stevenson. The tree was known as his orphan. I studied the banyan. It truly was spectacular with its roots shooting from the ground up and back again forming new trunks, new life. For old time's sake, I climbed the tree so I could tell my mother what I could see from there.
I saw the ship still in the harbour and wished I could have said goodbye to my mother and to Lauro. I wished in that moment I could have jumped ship and gone anywhere. But wherever I went, the pain would have travelled with me.
Closing my eyes, I leant into the tree branch on which I sat and found that sleep came mercifully fast.
A sound woke me. I had no idea what it was. I realised it was a siren. Curfew was coming. How had I slept so late into the night? I wasn't afraid. I was a child of the land. I was in Kai'ulani's tree. I felt safe. I wondered for a moment what Jason Qui was doing. Why was I thinking about him? My only problem was hunger. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I sighed, leaning a little deeper into the tree. My legs were stiff. Being so close to the ocean, the breeze was chilly. Did I dare risk jumping down and foraging for fruit?
I almost dared until two lovers emerged from between a stand of pines.
"We need to run," the man said to the woman.
"Kiss me, one more time?" she begged.
I watched the way he took her in his arms. Jason had kissed me like that. Lauro had in the beginning. Slowly but surely he'd taken away our love, bit by bit, like pawns in a chess game. I wondered if I would ever in my life see Lauro again. I thought about the dead dogs. There was much about his culture I didn't understand and didn't like, but I'd loved him. Yes, Lauro would always have a piece of my heart.
I waited until light came and grabbed the first streetcar all the way to Chinatown. I walked down King Street, buying warm manapua pastries at the corner bakery on Maunakea Street. I savoured the rich, red bean paste and yellow custard, demolishing six pastries before I reached the Midway.
Milaina and the girls acted like I'd risen from the dead when I came in through the back door.
"Where were you?" they kept asking, taking turns hugging me.
It felt nice to be missed. Milaina was livid until I gave them all a huge bag of pastries. The women oohed and aahed.
"You were supposed to come back yesterday," Milaina said, shoving me into her office. She took a closer look at me. "What happened to you? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She showed uncharacteristic tenderness towards me.
"No, he was lovely."
She arched a brow. "Don't fall in love. Girls aren't allowed to fall for their tricks, neither are you."
"Don't worry," I said. "I won't."
"He called and booked you for next Saturday night."
"Really? At the Moana?"
"No." She frowned. "I'm not sure yet. He is arranging for you to be picked up at seven and you will be back here by nine o'clock. For some reason he wants you to have dinner with him. If I find out there's any extra funny business..."
"There won't be."
"You're in love." Her tone was accusatory.
"No, I'm not. I had a rough day yesterday. My dad has fallen in love. My mom's only been dead three months."
"You are such a sentimental boy. I think you'll find your father was fooling around long before your mother's passing."
The thought had never occurred to me. It was impossible. I kept staring at her.
"It doesn't mean he loved her any less, Tinder. Now, let's settle up." She was all business now. She paid me out, keeping twenty dollars from my booking with Jason Qui.
Technically speaking since I hadn't been using her premises, her fee was high but I was too tired to argue.
"Your first client is waiting," she said. "Sure you don't want to put your cash in the safe?"
"I'm sure."
In my room, I was quick to sew some of my money into the lining of my suitcase and the rest was rolled into the hem seam of my thick pea coat I'd worn onboard the ship. I'd have to move it again in a few days. The eternal game.
Back upstairs in my cubicle, my first client was the junior mechanic. I should have been pleased, because he was a nice kid. This time, he wanted a blow job and I serviced him in three minutes. Or as Milaina would have said, lickety-split. I was preoccupied, worrying about my money. I had a lot of it and wanted to bank it but no longer felt I could ask my father to help me.
As I sucked on the junior mechanic's cock, I heard his excited moans, felt the way he humped my face and took his load. He didn't taste so bad this time.
"I stopped smoking dope, Terry," he said. "I would rather spend my money on you."
He blushed when I hugged him. No wonder he'd started tasting better when I sucked his cock.
"Good news," I said and gave him a pat on the rump as he left.
I felt just a little bit proud that I had anything to do with getting him off drugs. He was the first in a steady stream of clients for the day. I was surprised when one of them asked me to fuck him.
That for me, was a first. He wasn't a bad looking kid. Actually, he was cute in a very muscular, hard kind of way. He had dark eyes and hair and he knew what he wanted, boy.
He lay face down on my bunk, ass in the air and surprised me by asking me to spit on his bottom and fuck him. I was hard right away.
"Who taught you to fuck this way?" I asked him.
"One of my bunkmates. Nothing beats a sweet penis inside you, Terry. I never knew until he did it to me. Now I can't ask anybody else. What if they tell everyone I'm queer? He's fucked me for months but he just got just shipped out to Guam and I miss his dick so much. Please, fuck me. Please."
I bent and sniffed him. He smelt manly and clean. I ran my hands over his ass. He was nice and firm. I spat on him as he requested. I heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Want me to lick you?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
He gasped. "You would do that?"
I responded with my tongue lapping at his ass.
"Sweet Jesus," he moaned. He was jerking on his cock between his upturned thighs. I would have done the honours but we had so little time and I wasn't even in him yet. I entered him as gently as I could and his ass clamped down on me, claiming me. I hadn't been inside a man for so long and I wished it was Jason Qui. The man underneath me came at the same moment I did. I liked to think I did a better job than his bunkmate. His happy shout as he finished stroking himself told me I was at least as good.
"You're amazing." He bit his lip. "You fuck me better than Buck, even. I'll be back."
"I sure hope so," I said. "Next time, I want to play with this." I ran my hand across his cock.
He moaned and left when Milaina knocked at the door. I watched his ass retreat, washing myself off. I felt better for the release and for knowing I would see Jason in just a few days. Maybe things were looking up for me after all.
I had an early dinner alone at Wo Fat that night. I missed my ritual with Lauro. I asked over at Miller's if they'd heard from him.
"Yeah, I have," Eugene told me. He didn't look happy. He was doing a tattoo of the name Sandra on a sailor's arm. The guy wept into his friend's shoulder. I sure hoped Sandra was worth so much pain.
"Lauro got married yesterday."
Sandra's name became entwined with a rose and thorns. Yep, that was love for you. Lauro's swift marriage was a surprise. Well, maybe it hadn't been so swift. Maybe it had been planned for a while but Lauro hadn't told me. Salvern hadn't mentioned he was getting married so soon. No wonder Lauro's father had been so keen to get rid of me.
"I have his bike," I said. "I wanted to return it."
"Oh, is that where it went?" Eugene kept pressing on a bleeding thorn on the tattoo. "Here, hold this," he said to me.
I pressed down on the wound with a piece of gauze. Eugene nudged my hand away and smeared the tattoo with thick ointment.
"You can bring the bike back and leave it in the usual place but Lauro didn't show much interest in coming back for it," Eugene told me. "He's moving to the Big Island."
"So I've been told."
Eugene glanced at me. "Sorry, I know you're close." He took the sailor's money, told him the tattoo looked great, giving me a wink. "Tell you what, you and I can share the bike. Any time you want it, it's yours. If Lauro ever comes for it, he can have it back."
"Sounds good to me, Eugene."
We shook hands and I took a long walk along the river front as night fell. Music and laughter actually hurt my ears. All of it jarred me. I could remember Chinatown as a boy. It had always been crazy, but now it was really wild. A car horn blasted beside me as I stared into the water and I jumped.
"Hey!" Eugene Miller leant out of the passenger seat of a Ford Phaeton. "We're going to check out a new bar in Kane'ohe. Wanna come?"
I almost asked him if he was old enough to go to a bar but the idea of doing something a little different, away from Chinatown, was too good to pass up. The car was in good shape and I found the ride very smooth as we drove over the Nu'uanu Pali into Kane'ohe, a wide, open country kind of town nestled into the foothills of the Ko'olau Mountains lifted my spirits. Eugene's three friends were all tattoo artists and by the sounds of things, we shared some clients.
"They all love you, brah," one of the guys told me.
It seemed to me the mountains and trees were full of powerful mana.
We piled out of the car outside a bar called Honey's.
Eugene nudged me. "What do you think of her?"
"Her? Who do you mean?"
"My car."
"This is yours?"
"Bought her with my own money."
"She's in good shape."
"Of course she is. One previous owner. I love the curtains in back. They're removable you know. I keep it stored in my aunty's garage. In a few years, I can legally drive her. Hey, they're playing some jazz in there. Come on."
Inside the bar, a lovely woman named Honey Ho shook our hands. She offered us all drinks. I accepted one. A fog cutter. If the bar menu was right, I wouldn't need more. I found, as I was sniffing the contents before my first tentative sip, that I was the subject of intense scrutiny. A cute little Hawaiian and Chinese boy stared at me.
"You like music?" he asked me.
"I love music."
He nodded. "So do I. I'm going to be a big musician one day."
Honey laughed. "Don't mind him, this is my son. His name is Don Ho and music is his obsession."
"How old are you, Don?" I asked.
"Ten."
"Then you keep your eye on your goal and you'll get it."
"Thanks," he said and skipped away.
"What's in this drink?" I asked Honey, my head already spinning.
"House secret." She winked.
I felt a tug at my sleeve. I looked down. It was her son, Don.
He ticked the names off his fingers. "Brandy, gin, rum, vodka, sherry, orange juice and---"
"Don!" Honey's warning voice stopped the kid in his tracks.
I however had heard enough. I was glad I wasn't driving.
"Guess we should go," Eugene said, looking disappointed.
I saw him swallow the last of his drink. I had no idea what he'd had, but my fog cutter dimmed my lights. All the way to Chinatown, I slept, thinking about Jason Qui and wishing I wasn't so damned excited about seeing him again.
Friday, August 7, 1941
I'd had a rough week, waiting each day in vain for Jason to make arrangements with Milaina to see me again. Relief came fast when he sent his uncle to pay for my services the following Friday morning. Once again, I watched from the window with Melody who came and warned me. I had a doctor's appointment for my weekly health check and had to run. She seemed very subdued, but when I asked her if everything was all right, she insisted that it was.
A few of the girls were complaining to one another about not being allowed to send their money to the mainland. Voices rose and Milaina argued that there was nothing wrong with her office safe. The money could be stored there.
"What if there is a breakin?" one of the girls asked her.
It was a fair question and one I'd thought of many times.
"The police protect us," she said, which was probably true.
Out of each dollar we gave her, she funnelled some of it to the police for those purposes. Still, I wasn't convinced and I was running out of sewing thread. I kept sewing up my money in various places. A couple of times I was certain money was missing, but it was just my paranoia.
I walked to the doctor's office on King Street and got checked out. As I was leaving, I noticed a forlorn-looking Melody in the waiting room. She glanced up, and when she realised it was me, she seemed ready to run. We were the only ones in there, the doctor and his nurse busy dealing with a screaming toddler who had been brought in with chicken pox, judging by the loud shouting. Our island people had no defences against these foreign diseases and quite often, not enough remedies.
Melody let out a sigh when I kept asking her what was wrong.
"I'm pregnant."
"Well, I know that's a bad thing for business, but what about for you? Is it a good or bad thing?"
"I don't know. Milaina will kill me."
"No, she won't. You can't be the first girl who got pregnant."
She was stroking her belly in a dreamy way.
"The thing is, I...I want to keep my baby." She glanced away from me. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
I reached over and took her hand, squeezing it. We were officially breaking all kinds of laws for prostitutes but I didn't care. Melody was my friend and she was in trouble.
"Do you think I am a terribly bad person?" she asked.
"Of course not. I think you would be a wonderful mother."
She kept chewing her lip.
"Do you know who the father is?"
"No, and I don't care. This is my baby."
"Of course it is."
She seemed surprised. "Terry..." her voice dropped, "I have made so much money, more than I ever dreamt possible. Would it...would I be a terrible woman if I went back to the mainland and raised my baby alone?"
"No, you would not."
"I want to so much. I...I can get on the Matson ship today. It's the Monterey. I can go home to San Francisco...I can tell people I was married and my husband was lost in battle. There are plenty of war widows."
"That's true."
Her fingers tightened in mine. "You won't say anything to Milaina?"
"Not a word."
She let out a breath and her eyes shone. She looked lighter, younger. "Don't say a word, please. She won't let me go. I'm her busiest girl."
"I won't say anything. I promise. I'm going to miss you."
"Terry, I will write to you."
"You'd better."
"Here." In two short steps she was at the nurse's desk. She wrote an address using the ink pen in the well and blotted it. "I never was very good with these things. This is my address back home. I know you won't stay at the Midway so as soon as you have a new place, write to me, okay?"
I hugged her quickly and let her leave the doctor's office first. It wouldn't be good for her to be seen on the street with a man, any man, and get arrested before she could make her bid for freedom.
"Have you seen Melody?"
Milaina burst into my room as I finished sewing up my money inside my mattress. I hid the needle and thread in my hand.
"No, I haven't."
She glared at me. "The doctor just told me she never made her appointment and her suitcase is here but I just checked her closet. All her things are gone."
"Really?"
"That girl has been acting very weird for weeks. You know, I have a feeling she's in love. That officer has been to see her almost every day. She hasn't said anything to you?"
The surprise must have shown on my face. I didn't know about any officer.
"You two are thick as thieves," she said. "She never said anything to you?"
"No." My palms started to sweat.
Thieves. She really was a piece of work. I felt the piece of paper with Melody's mainland address burning a hole in my pocket.
"Don't make an enemy of me, Tinder McCartney," Milaina warned. "I am a dangerous woman when crossed."
Her words worried me all day and I began to be concerned more and more about my money. The matter of a bank account was unexpectedly settled that night. I went to meet Eugene and his friends. Once again, we drove to Kane'ohe and after one cocktail, I blabbed to Eugene who laughed when I told him of my predicament.
"Are you crazy?"
"No, why?"
"Come and meet me in the morning. Make up some excuse to your landlady. I'll take you to my bank. It's Cantonese. They are very nice. I will personally see to it that you have a safe place for your money. You are one lolo, crazy guy hanging on to all that cash."
I hardly slept all night, worrying about meeting Eugene. I was worried about being caught, getting into trouble and being arrested. I got up and paced my room a couple of times. By dawn I was up, unpicking money from all my hiding places. I counted it out. I had two thousand dollars in dollar bills. My God. I was rich. I put it all in the inside lining of my pea coat. It weighed a ton but it worked. I left the hotel as soon as curfew was lifted, leaving a note for Milaina that I had a family emergency but I would be back by noon.
Eugene was waiting for me and he put his hand on my shoulder. "You look like you've hardly slept."
"I haven't."
"You should have said something sooner. Let's go, I made an appointment with Mr. Qui. He's expecting us."
"Mr. Qui?"
"Yes. He's a very nice man."
"I think I know him."
Eugene shrugged. "All the better then."
"I don't think so. It's illegal for me to own a bank account."
Eugene smiled. "I asked. The rules apply to the women only."
"That doesn't seem fair."
Eugene shrugged again. "That's life, baby."
The bank, which I'd never noticed before, was right near Wo Fat. I was surprised at how ornate its exterior was and inside, it was just as opulent. I clung to my pea coat as Dingxiang Qui approached us.
"Mr. McCartney, how nice to see you again."
Polished hardwood floors, gleaming gold fixtures and his kind smile all took my breath away. A young woman brought us green jasmine tea and as we sipped, I recovered my equilibrium.
"This bank was created to prevent discrimination against Chinese entrepreneurs as well as the workers," Dingxiang said. "We take pride in servicing all the people who work hard for their money."
I let out a breath, holding up my coat. "It's all in here."
Dingxiang raised a brow. "And none of it's been stolen yet?"
I shook my head. "I keep moving it."
He stared at me a moment. I glanced at Eugene who worked hard to smother his smile.
"Sorry, baby, but you make me laugh."
Dingxiang reached for the coat. "Exactly how much is in here?"
"Two thousand dollars."
"Very good." He handed it back. "We will open a savings account for you. If you are concerned about keeping your bank book in your room, we can open a safety deposit box for you. The key is quite small, easily hidden. You are welcome to come in any time and deposit funds into your account and you can also put money in there."
Our transaction didn't take long. As I left the bank, I curled my fingers around my key. I felt a sense of freedom and accomplishment.
"I don't know how I will ever repay you," I told Eugene.
"Your friendship is payment enough," he told me.
We walked back to our lives in companionable silence.
When I returned to the Midway, I was pretty certain somebody had been through my room. Nothing jumped out at me to indicate that it had...it was just a feeling. Then I realised. The closet. I always closed the doors flush. One was not quite closed. Hmmph. I'd interrupted somebody. Who?
A knock at my door and Milaina barked at me.
"Client upstairs, Terry. Get to work, lickety-split."
Out in the hallway, she stood, hands on hips, looking me up and down.
"What was the family emergency?"
"My mother's family," I said. "I had to go deal with that, now my father's got a girlfriend."
She said nothing. I was my mother's family, so it wasn't a lie and I couldn't trust my father to help me. I climbed the stairs, taking a deep breath. I wished I could just take a break today, but it was not to be. As if God was punishing me, the first guy was a very handsome Nisei, or Japanese-American, who wanted to fuck me. He seemed angry and I felt as if he wanted to punish some haole ass. I had no choice but to let him. It was my fault that I had nothing to lubricate myself with since his was an unusual request and I had no time to go to my room and get some.
I lay on the bed after stripping off my pants and undershorts and he poked and stabbed at me with his thin cock. He entered me and I tried to relax. It was hard to do that so I pretended he was Jason. My ass muscles eased up on him and he slid deeper into me. The sound of his balls slapping against my ass and thighs was normally a sound I craved. He fucked me very hard and came quickly. He pulled himself off me and I let him wash himself at the basin. My ass hurt, and for the first time, I really hated what I was doing. I thought about the money in the bank and my little gold key and I forced a smile to my face.
Milaina knocked at the door. The man zipped up his pants and looked at me.
"I apologise for being so rough with you," he said. "I just learnt the United States government is planning to remove all Japanese-Americans out of service."
"Maybe it's only a rumour," I said, trying to soothe him. "There's been no invasion."
"Yes, but they think it's coming."
He straightened his uniform. "At least they're not putting my family in internment camps...yet." His gaze fell and he shuffled out of the room.
Milaina poked her head in and she asked in a rare moment of genuine caring, "Did he hurt you?"
I nodded. "I'll be okay."
"Get cleaned up," she said, showing unusual warmth. "Take your time."
Thankfully, none of my other clients wanted a piece of my ass that day and I started to feel better as they day went on.
Eugene was busy when I dropped by his store in the early evening. Eight US battleships and the carrier, Yorktown, were tied up in Ford Island. Their crewmembers had swarmed the island and business was brisk. I debated where to have dinner and decided to skip it. I borrowed the bicycle and cycled into Waikiki. My family home, up a short hill above Ainahau, was on the street locally called Roundtop because you had to circle around and around an ever-decreasing circle to reach the top.
My mother had loved our house. It had been shipped here by my father's family from Connecticut a hundred years ago. Built of stone and wood, it had been her pride and joy. The lights were on and I let myself in. I was not surprised to see that Linda Crane was there with my father. I was surprised that the house was almost stripped bare.
"Where are all our things?" I asked.
My father shot me a guilty look. "We sold them."
I gaped at him. "You sold them?"
"Linda wanted to start fresh."
She stared at me from over the top of a cocktail glass.
"Who did you sell them to, Dad?"
"A military family with young children."
"What about her clothes?"
He closed his eyes. "We donated them to the war services. People can't afford new clothes and she had so many nice things, Tinder."
I went into my bedroom, or what had been my bedroom. I'd moved out when I'd gone to harvest sugar cane in Maui and never came back. It was empty. My mother's favourite things were gone from all over the house.
My father found me in the living room staring at the only thing left, a family photograph.
"I kept it for you," he said. "I'm sorry, son. I know this is hard for you."
I took the framed picture. My first thought was that it was all I had left of her. My second thought was that it would be a good place to hide my key.
"We're moving next weekend. We sold the house."
I couldn't get over the we.
"Linda got us a wonderful opportunity to take over a store in Kona. I hope you'll come and visit us there."
"Sure. I can do that." Not in a million years.
Gripping the photograph in my hands, I leant against the wall since there was no furniture. I tried not to think of my father and mother's beautiful things...all gone.
"Can I ask you something?"
My father nodded.
"Were you involved with Linda when Mom was still alive?"
"Tinder..."
"Just tell me."
"Yes. I was."
So, Milaina had been right.
"Did she know?"
"No, she didn't. She had been sick for so long and...I...got lonely. You do understand, don't you?"
"Not really. Dad...is this all I have left of her?"
He glanced at the photograph. "There are a couple of duck figurines. Linda quite likes those..."
He coloured under the weight of my incredulous stare.
"I'll give them to you."
At the door of his bedroom, he closed the door on me and came back out, the tiny figurines in his hand.
"Thank you."
"Will you meet us for breakfast Sunday?"
"I don't think so."
He didn't seem surprised, just sad.
"Have a nice trip," I said.
I walked outside, glancing at the plumeria trees on either side of the front steps. My mom had planted them when I was a child. Their scent was strong, spicy. I inhaled the sharp fragrance of the red-leafed blossoms and plucked one. The red flower was not the typical plumeria one found on the islands. My mom had loved them. I slipped the bloom into the basket on the front of the bike with the frame and duck figurines, wrapped in the sweater I'd brought with me. I did not turn around to look at the house. I never did like saying goodbye.
On Saturday night, Jason collected me, himself, in his snazzy car and I couldn't keep the grin from my face as he held the door open for me.
He looked so handsome and elegant in his suit and I could tell he'd just had a haircut. His tapered fingers held the wheel with a light touch. I couldn't help staring at everything he did. He exuded so much sexiness and male beauty.
Jason, however, didn't smile at me until we were on the road to Waikiki.
"I'm taking you somewhere special tonight. We're going to pick up the girls---"
"Girls?"
He laughed then. "You make it sound like I'm suggesting we pick up man-eating sharks. We need to be presentable. We need to keep up a front. You're a very handsome man, Tinder, but I can't dance with you."
"Of course not," I said. "Not in public." My brain screamed, But I don't want to dance with girls. I want to be alone with you.
"As soon dinner is over, we'll drop them home and then you and I will have some fun."
"How much fun?"
He smiled. "This time I have to drop you home. But we will have a couple of hours alone together, okay?"
It was very okay. The two girls turned out to be two young white women who worked in Waikiki for the war office. They were chatty, giggly and sweet, but I had no interest in women. Kathy and Sherry came outside with Jason who picked them up at the house they shared with two other women on Kalakaua Avenue.
I sat in the back with Sherry and tried to focus on her zigzagging stream of talk as Jason seemed deeply focused on Kathy's conversation. He drove us all the way to the end of Waikiki to Diamond Head.
"Tonight," Jason announced, "we dine in style. We're having dinner at Queen's Surf."
"I always thought it was the summer residence of the Fleischmann's Yeast heir, Chris Holmes," I said.
"It is," Jason said, pulling into the stone driveway of the gigantic mansion. "He's leased the grounds to a friend of mine who's opened a restaurant here."
I think we were all excited as we rounded the corner of a tiki-torch lit path and saw the outdoor tables decorated with fresh flowers and small candles. I heard the exotic music coming from the Hawaiian band playing on a stage between two huge monkey pod trees.
Jason danced with Kathy and I felt compelled to ask Sherry for a dance. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but the approving smile I got from Jason egged me on. It was clear to me that both women were gaga over Jason. Kathy spent a lot of time leaning into him, letting him light her cigarette, asking him to order her meal.
The restaurant, called Gam's at Queen's Surf, had an interesting menu that featured more desserts than it did main courses. That was just fine and dandy with me. The girls ordered shrimp salads and broiled lamb chops. Jason and I went for the Saturday night specials of southern fried chicken and we all had the house's special dessert of Niu houhou, sundaes that cost twenty-five cents apiece with our meals.
"You're an island boy," Jason said, "What does it mean?"
"I've never heard of them."
Those sundaes were really something. They consisted of three scoops of vanilla ice cream imbedded with black sesame seeds. Topped with macadamia nuts, chopped island fruits, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I think I found nirvana that night under the stars. I noticed Jason watching me and I started to feel guilty. The only thing I didn't do was pick up the plate and lick it clean.
He danced with Kathy until I was afraid we'd run out of time for sex and finally, he ordered coffee. The girls went to replenish their lipstick at the rest rooms in the mansion's outdoor cabanas.
"You eat the way you fuck," he whispered, as soon as we were alone.
"We're never going to have enough time to be together," I whispered back.
"Would that bother you?"
He lit a cigarette and waited for my response.
"A lot," I admitted.
"You like sex with me?"
"Of course," I said.
"I like sex with you, too. I planned this night to the last detail. I promise you that my cock will be inside your ass very soon."
His words made my own cock leap in my pants. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.
"What do you suppose women do when they go powder their noses?" he mused.
"I have no idea. I don't date women, but I did ask my mother once."
"What did she tell you?"
"They really do powder their noses and blot their lipstick and spend an inordinate amount of time asking one another, 'Do I look okay?'"
He laughed, the sound lighting up my heart.
"You are adorable," he said.
"They're coming," I responded.
Kathy and Sherry seemed happy to be back with Jason and a little tug of war began between them over him. They both wanted to dance with him, then, when he danced with Sherry, I gallantly asked Kathy to dance with me. She huffed and fumed, telling me that Sherry knew that Jason was hers.
"I've been working on him for months," she said, lipstick colouring her teeth, her flashing eyes seeking out our dancing friends.
I don't think she glanced at me once.
We drove them home after dinner. Their disappointment was obvious when he walked them to the front door.
"If you were me, which one of them would you marry?" he asked me when he returned to the car.
It seemed an especially cruel question, but then, I was just his hired whore.
"I'm sure you'll choose the one you like the most," I said, aware of my stiff tone.
"But which one would you choose?"
Why was he pushing this?
"I don't know. I think they're both...vacuous. Which one do you like?"
"Vacuous? Why, Tinder, I think you're jealous. No come on, which of them did you like the most?"
"Neither of them. Maybe Sherry. She doesn't talk so much."
"Hmm. I think Kathy's smarter."
If he hadn't paid for my time, I would have gotten out of the car right then and there and taken the streetcar home.
"It's nine o'clock," I said. "Curfew's in an hour and a half."
"Yes, I know."
He started the car and we drove away from Waikiki in strained silence.
"I did tell you I had to get married."
"Yes, I remember."
"I trust your opinion."
"I have none right now."
"These were the first of my choices. There will be more."
This was too much. I couldn't handle it. More nights like this? I felt betrayed and hurt by my father and Lauro and now...this.
"What did you pay Milaina when you booked me?" I asked.
The question seemed to surprise him. "Seventy-five dollars."
"Okay. I'll make sure you get it all back when I cash out with her tomorrow. Sunday is the day she pays me."
"What are you doing?"
I got out of the car. "I'll also make sure you get the money for my meal."
He reached across for me. "Don't be ridiculous. Tinder, get back in here."
"No, I can't."
"Tinder. Please."
I crossed the street, not even sure where I was going, only that I almost got hit a couple of times. It was dark down here without much activity and no lights from any businesses.
"Tinder!"
I had to get rid of this ache, the bitter disappointment I felt.
He got out of the car and followed me. I ran faster than he did and lost him in Ainahau's vast estate.
He kept calling me, but I knew the park better than he did. I climbed the tree and sat in silence. The cruise ships were all gone. Only battleships lined the harbour. Honolulu had lost its innocence, as had I.
As soon as I saw him leave the park and drive away, I climbed down again. I walked over to Kalakaua Avenue and waited for the streetcar. To my dismay, Jason rolled up in his Phaeton.
"Please get in," he said. "Or else, I'll have you arrested."
I had no choice.
Swallowing my pride, I climbed in beside him. After this night, I would be sure and tell Milaina that I never wanted to see this particular client again. There was a lot to be said for just being a three-dollar whore.
"Why are you so angry with me?" he asked as we drove away. "I thought we were friends."
"I thought we were, too."
"You can't seriously think we could ever...have a relationship."
"No. I guess not."
"I never meant to hurt your feelings, Tinder, but I paid for sex. I expect to get it."
"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry."
My fingers dug into my palms. I just wanted this night to be over. I'd never felt this way about any man, and the jealousy I felt towards Kathy, Sherry and anyone else who had laid claim to him, ate away at me.
"What happened to the Chinese woman you were with at the Manoa last Sunday?"
"She's nice but she's so...subservient. I need someone with a bit of fire. Besides, I have to marry a white woman. It's good for business."
God...
"Tinder, I tried to make it nice for you and now I feel bad about that. I could have just taken you to a hotel room and fucked you."
"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry."
"Help me to understand. Why are you so upset with me?"
"I've had a hard time, Jason. My mom died a few months ago. My dad just got rid of all her things. He's moving to Maui with his new girlfriend. My boyfriend just got married to a woman."
"You...had a boyfriend?"
"Yes, I did."
"Who was he?"
"A tattoo artist."
"A Filipino?"
"Yes."
He was quiet for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry about all those things. I lost my mother, too. It's hard, I know, but I am trying to make our...encounters very nice for you. Will you let me do that?"
"Okay."
He was being so nice and yet that single word hurt me. I felt I was betraying my own heart.
"And you'll help me find a wife?"
"If you want."
Boy, he was killing me. I had to take control of my emotions. I had to think with my head, not my passions. It wasn't his fault that my vagabond heart chose him for a home.
I took a deep breath. Maybe it was for the best. Knowing the boundaries, I wouldn't fall in love with him. The trouble was, it was too late. I was already in love.
I knew before we walked inside his house high up on the Pali that I loved him. No matter how much I knew I could never be with him, I loved him in a way I'd never loved anybody. I was in deep, deep trouble. The knowledge was both tragic and beautiful.
We arrived at his house. It was lovely. I could tell he was very proud of it. Filled with antiques from all over the Orient, he turned on a few house lights and let me walk from room to room, taking it all in as he loosened his tie and took off his suit jacket.
I knew he wanted me and I wanted him, too. Badly. He held me to him and kissed me. I fell into his kiss. It was beautiful, sweet and deep. He kissed me with great tenderness and yearning, and soon he was sucking on my tongue. I felt his cock hardening against my belly. My hand moved between us so I could feel it.
"Do you want me?" he asked, slipping my jacket down my shoulders.
"Oh yes, Jason. I can't wait."
He undid my shirt buttons, kissing my wrists as he took off my cufflinks. God, he was such a sensual man. My clothes were once again strewn all over the floor in this man's presence. He led me to a chaise longue that looked as if it was very old.
"This is made from soft and fragrant rosewood. It is two hundred years old and it is called a lounging pleasure bed. In Chinese homes, it is for the simple pleasure of whoever reclines in it. In whorehouses, however, it has many erotic functions. Would you like me to show you a few?" he asked.
I nodded. He put me in the middle of the bed and told me to swing my legs to the curving head of the chaise. He tugged my feet over the edge. He kept moving me around until he had me exactly where he wanted me. I felt my ball sac caught between two slats of the rising headrest.
I gasped.
"You see, Tinder, I have many pleasures to show you."
He knelt underneath so that my feet landed on his shoulders. He kissed me from my chin to my feet and back to my legs, up to my thighs.
"Put your feet up on the head," he commanded.
It put extra pressure on my balls and I felt my ass exposed to him. He gazed at my cock, which bounced in defiance of all his wishes to be married to a woman. I saw his cock hard and ready for me between his legs as he turned and lay on his back, sliding underneath the bed. He began licking me. His tongue lapped at my balls, his mouth forming into an O, sucking first one, then the other between the slats. I'd never experienced anything like it.
I cried out.
He lifted his face away for a moment.
"Yes, Tinder! I want to hear you. Nobody else is here. I want to hear how good you feel when I lick you."
He ate my ass and balls until I was afraid I would come before he was inside me.
I reached underneath and tried to push his face away from my ass but his hot tongue was buried inside me. He pressed his face deeper into me and I came. He moved up finally, his face flushed as his fingers touched my juices. He put his tongue to my belly and licked, then he took his face away, licking at his fingertips.
"Tinder. I need to be inside you."
"Fuck me," I said, still feeling deep arousal.
He scooted around to the middle of the bed. I turned, too. He knelt, his gorgeous cock jutting upward and pulled me to him. My knees hugged his body as he raced to get his cock into me with shaking fingers.
"Tonight was such sweet torture," he crooned, his mouth at my ear.
He cut right into me and I gripped his sweet body to me, holding him tight.
Jason kissed and licked my lips and throat as I rode him. I rode him in style, moving my hips from side to side, my ass clamping on his spasming cock.
"Oh, God, I'm going to come," he shouted. "Tinder! I love you! I fucking love you!"
He dropped me back at the hotel with minutes to spare.
"What about you?" I fretted. "You'll miss curfew."
"Don't worry about me. I have an apartment over one of my stores here. I'll be fine. Tinder, can I see you next Saturday?"
"Of course."
He seemed relieved.
Neither of us had said a word about his shouted words of love but I believed them in the moment he said them, and afterward, when he lay on top of me, still imbedded in me, I still believed them.
Because I wanted to.
He drove off as I walked inside. I lay on my bed after I took off my clothes and touched myself. I still smelt of him. I could still feel him on me, in me. He'd given me extra kisses to tide me over until next Saturday. He'd said nothing about the future beyond wanting to see me on Saturday. I wondered how he could be with a woman...marry one, when he was so seductive and passionate with me.
I craved sleep but craved dreaming about him more. I touched my ass one last time. Maybe when he married his white woman, he'd still want to keep me as his whore.
In the morning, I was relieved that it was my day off. I didn't want another man to touch me. Not today, when my emotions were still raw and my body still tingling from his touch. I got cleaned up, wondering what he was doing with his Sunday. I dressed in my most comfortable clothes and went to meet Milaina in her office to settle up.
She was in a belligerent mood. She'd now lost two girls.
"Melody went back to the mainland, the war office tells me, and Cassandra...if you can believe it, she's marrying an officer. There goes his career if I have anything to say about it."
I knew it was against the new laws for prostitutes to date military personnel but I wondered where Cassandra could have met an officer.
"She met him at the doctor's office," Milaina said. "Can you credit that? What kind of man picks up a hooker at a doctor's office and then marries her?"
"A lonely one?" I suggested.
She gave me a funny look. She lost count of the dollar bills she'd collected for me and had to start again. She counted out my poker chips, exchanging them for cash. She told me my share for my evening with Jason was forty-five dollars. She was keeping a whopping thirty for herself. I didn't care. Not really. I would have fucked Jason for free at that point.
"What will you do with your day off?" she asked.
"I don't know." The day was mine, to my huge disappointment. I wished I could be spending it with Jason. "I might take a walk."
"That sounds exciting."
I laughed. "I always take exciting walks."
I had no idea how prophetic that statement would be until I'd spent some time hiding my cash before I could deposit it the following day. I'd assembled the things I thought I would need for my hike and walked a few blocks up to Nu'uanu Street. I spotted a new working girl from my hotel shopping for fruit. She stood, examining tamarind pods and after casting a furtive look around to make sure nobody observed her talking to a man, I stopped.
"Don't eat tamarind," I said.
"Why ever not?"
"They have a sour taste that lingers and doesn't mesh well with semen. Besides, they leave a nasty residue on your teeth making them feel sharp. Your clients will hate you for it."
She looked stunned.
"Thank you," she said. "There's so much to remember living here. Everything is so foreign to me."
"Where are you from?"
"San Francisco."
Yes, like so many of the girls here.
A car horn blasted and there was Jason.
"Fancy seeing you here." He grinned at me over the top of his RAF sunglasses.
My knees wobbled when I saw him in his casual shirt. He looked fine no matter what he wore.
"Isn't it your day off?" he asked.
"Yes, it is."
"Would you care to share it with me?"
"Oh, boy!" I cringed when I realised I'd said the words aloud, but he was ecstatic.
"Where to?" he asked.
I got inside. A driver behind us got impatient, pulling around us and zooming up Nu'uanu.
I hesitated. "I had planned to take a walk."
"Really? Where? Around Waikiki?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. I wanted to walk up in the mountains...then I thought I'd go to Queen's Surf for one of those incredible sundaes."
He laughed. "You liked those, huh?"
"I did."
"I've been there twice since the night I took you. If I tell you something I hope you will not read too much into it."
"What's that?"
"It wasn't nearly as much fun as was when I was with you."
Good. "Oh, that's a shame."
He laughed again. "You think so?"
"No, not really."
This time we both laughed.
"Where to?" he asked again.
I was wary of showing him my secret places, the sacred spots my mother had shared with me. I hated the idea of him taking anybody else there, man or woman.
"You really want to do this?" I asked.
"Yes, I do."
"What kind of shoes are you wearing?"
"Old ones."
"You don't mind if they get muddy?"
He thought for a minute. "No. Where are you taking me?"
I thought about it. I would take him to where I'd been planning to go. It would be the one place he would never be able to find again on his own.
"We need to go up the Pali."
"Okay." He turned right onto Kukui Street and merged with the Pali traffic.
We rode for a mile or so in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was wonderful silence, allowing me to just absorb every second of being with him. I felt his fingers creeping over mine and he spoke.
"I think you're right about Kathy. I took her out again and she hardly paused for breath. I think I still have a headache."
He was spoiling our nice day by talking about her.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"King Kamehameha III's summer palace."
He raised his eyebrows. "You mean Queen Emma's summer palace, right?"
I shook my head. "This is a ruin, a relic. An ancient monument."
"And you're sharing it with me?"
I took a deep breath as our rising climb into the Pali brought with it a drop in temperature and a desire for truth. I hunted for the right words. I wanted to say, I don't have anyone else but you.
Self-preservation intervened.
"There's nobody else I'd rather share it with," I said.
His fingers swept across my knuckles and he brought my hand to his lap. Up here in what my ancestors called cloud country, there weren't so many prying eyes. I let my hand rest on his lap, stealing upward to stroke his cock through the confines of his pants until he squirmed against my touch, brushing my fingers away.
I directed him to the Nu'uanu Pali turn-off, which he dutifully took. I then urged him to take the right fork to the Old Pali Road. His car handled the steep mountain road very well.
"I've never been up here," he said.
My fingers moved back to his cock. He was hard. Just how I liked him. I told him to slow down. It was chilly and foggy up here, to his surprise.
"This is just a little bit spooky, Tinder."
"No, it's not. It's wonderful."
"Are there ghosts up here?"
"Of course."
"Bad ones?"
"No. Just nature spirits and some ancestors of the land."
"I feel them. Does that sound...fanciful to you?"
"No. That's why I come here."
He turned and looked at me. "You are an unusual man, Tinder McCartney."
I asked him to park by a small opening between two trees on the side of the road.
"Unzip your pants," I instructed.
I had two reasons for wanting to suck his cock. Firstly, I'd been taunting him the whole way up. Secondly, I wanted him to be so dazzled by my spectacular oral skills that he'd forget all about the opening to the forest.
"Oh, my God, Tinder...why couldn't you be a woman?"
I sucked on his cock, all the way to the base. The only sound in the cool mountain air was what I was doing to him. Pretty soon the other sound was his ecstatic moaning. I squeezed on his ball sac through his pants and he bucked in and out of my mouth. I let my tongue press into the slit in his lovely cock head as I sucked his length into my mouth again and he came, his cock thumping against the back of my throat.
He sank back in his seat.
I finished swallowing. "Ready for that walk now?"
He grinned, shaking his head. Sweat beaded his upper lip and I couldn't resist leaning over and licking it. He took my face in his hands and kissed me.
"That was incredible," he said.
I felt smug. I knew none of his girlfriends, even the fiery ones, could give him head like I could. I felt it was one of the few advantages God gave homosexual men. Most of us had a true and sincere appreciation for sucking another man's cock.
He climbed out of the car and put the top up on his car. Following me through an unmarked, dense trail topped by the biggest, widest trees that were so green and so huge they blocked out all sunlight, he looked up.
"What is this place?"
"You'll see. We call it Kaniakapupu, the place of singing land shells. Watch the roots of these trees. It's easy to trip."
He stuck close to me, as I led the way. The trail became darker and darker as we entered a thick bamboo forest. I knew the terrain well.
"We turn right here."
"How do you know?"
His hands were at my waist now. He'd slipped a couple of times in his shoes. We walked for half a mile and I saw the gigantic tree of legend, planted by King Kamehameha III almost a hundred and fifty years ago.
"Not far now."
"I'm not afraid," he said, "in case you're wondering. I just like holding you."
"The feeling is mutual."
I heard his gasp as we came out into a clearing and in the middle of it, the ruins of the old summer palace.
"It's beautiful," he said. "My God...it's like a medieval relic."
I watched the reverent way he walked around, careful not to step on stones or old foundations.
"What was this area here?" he asked, his arm sweeping to the left. "I get a very weird, unsettled feeling."
"It was a heiau."
"A heiau. That's an altar, isn't it?"
"Yes. He practiced human sacrifice before he changed his ways."
He stepped away from it and moved closer to me. I put my arms around him and kissed his cheek.
"I feel we could touch the clouds here," he said and suddenly turned his lips to mine and kissed me. We both had hard cocks by the time we headed back to the car. I held his hand the whole way. Neither of us said a word, but I was certain in my heart that a man didn't get hard kissing another man unless he had feelings for him.
"You know what?" he asked me as he let me into the car.
"What?"
"I feel like we stepped back in time. I feel like...I feel like the ancients liked us being there, paying respects."
Kissing him quickly, I agreed.
"I am glad the sun's back out," he said. "How do we get back to Waikiki now?"
We drove down, laughing the whole way. He turned on his car radio and sand along to the Andrews Sisters singing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Something had shifted between us but it was good. The intensity between us was still there but some things unspoken had to be left unsaid if we wanted to remain friends.
At Queen's Surf, he indulged my desire for a sundae. He opted for the Sunday special of mud pie.
On the back of the menu, I read the Mark Twain quote I hadn't noticed when we'd come the last time. I read a few lines aloud.
"No alien land in all the world has any deep, but strong charm for me but that one; no other land could so longingly and beseechingly haunt me sleeping and waking, through half a lifetime, as that one has done..."
"That's how I feel about Hawaii," I said.
"That's how I feel about you," he said, lighting a cigarette.
I felt a tremor of pleasure flicker through me. I loved this island and I loved him. To me, they went hand in hand.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
He told me about his life growing up in Canton, his education in England and being brought here as a young teenager. He helped in the family business in his summer holidays and completed his degree at Oxford.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Twenty-seven."
He was three years older than me.
"And you lost both your parents how?"
He sighed. "An accident in Hong Kong. I have no idea how, but he had started construction work on a new hotel and my mother went with him. I was supposed to be there but I wasn't well. I slept in. They went, and I am told they walked on some scaffolding and fell together to their death, three storeys below."
"Oh, my God."
"At least they went together," he said. "They would have wanted it that way."
"And now you're in charge of everything."
"Oh, yes," he said, signalling for the bill. "I'm, how do Americans put it? I am the big cheese."
We drove back towards Chinatown and I saw a line forming outside the Waikiki Theater.
"Do you want to go see a movie?" I asked.
"Not this time." His fingers sneaked towards mine briefly. "Honey, I have a dinner appointment."
"You mean a date."
He grinned. "No, an actual appointment. Can I drop you at the hotel? Please let me. I hate thinking of you walking and riding that damned bicycle...or worse, taking the streetcar."
"There's nothing wrong with the streetcar," I said. "I like it. Not as much as I like riding in your car but still..."
He laughed. All too soon we were back in Chinatown. I didn't feel like going home, but I was tired and it had been a wonderful day.
"I'll see you Saturday," he said.
I got out of his car and he drove away. I wished I'd gotten the chance to kiss him. I walked to the back door of the hotel and a strange feeling came over me. For some reason the face of the kahuna I'd met swam into my mind.
Be careful of people who know your name, he'd said. I shook the thought away. Why was I thinking about this now? I let myself inside and closed the door. For some strange reason my heart was pounding. In my room, I got undressed and washed up, slipping into my bed. For the first time in a long, long time I fell asleep with a smile on my face before curfew even came.
For the next few weeks, I lived for my Saturday evenings with Jason. It seemed on Sunday mornings, he always happened to be driving past just as I was heading out for the day. We spent those days together, filling every second until curfew.
I could have spent every day and night with him. One Monday morning, the day shone clear and bright. I washed again, dressed in my good clothes and bid Milaina a good morning.
She often asked if I had sex with him on Sundays and I told her no. And we usually didn't. We did a lot of kissing, but after that first time I sucked his cock up on the Old Pali Road, we kept our days strictly to fun and laughter.
Milaina cashed out with me. She seemed to be in a strange, pensive mood. I put it down to her dismay that she couldn't make Jason pony up money for spending my free time with me. Her female prostitutes were forbidden from dating clients, but none of their clients paid the kind of money Jason did.
I had a few clients booked but nothing like the girls. First chance I got, I told Milaina I had an errand to run. I retrieved my cash, stuck it in my shoes and was halfway down River Street when a man called me by my real name.
"Hey, Tinder."
I stopped and turned around. I didn't know him, I was certain of it.
"Why are you walking so fast?"
Be careful of people who know your name.
The weirdest thing started happening to me. The man kept talking but the kahuna's face was in my mind. It was as if he was right in front of me. Nothing had happened really, but I knew I was in grave danger. Run! The kahuna screamed in my brain. Run!
I was not aware of other people being around. I was vaguely aware of feet, other voices and I saw another man approaching me from an alleyway. Too late to dodge him, he tackled me from the side. I hit the ground, face first. I tasted blood and felt hands and fists pounding me, feet kicking me. My instinct to protect my head and face resulted in harder kicks to my body. Something broke. My ribs. And then the world went black.
When I awoke, I was aware of two faces, Milaina and a nurse's.
"He has concussion," the nurse said.
"Terry, speak to me."
It took me a second to realise Milaina was talking to me. My mouth tasted foul, my whole body hurt.
"What happened?" she asked. "Who did this to you?"
" Where am I? Am I in Queen's Hospital?"
"Oh, you silly boy, who did you upset?"
"I didn't upset anybody."
"They took your shoes. They must have known you had money."
"All my money's gone?"
"They took it from your socks. People saw them. One of the girls came and told me. It was too late by the time I got there."
Nobody could have known. I hadn't told a soul...unless she'd been watching me. I fretted about the key to the safety deposit box, then I remembered I hadn't taken it with me. I'd forgotten it in my room. I tried sitting up but I was in a lot of pain.
"Two teeth kicked in, a broken rib, swollen jaw and bruises. You look like you got hit by a bus," she said.
"I did. Two of them."
Everything hurt. I couldn't believe it. I'd been so happy. Then...this.
"I thought we were supposed to have police protection," I said. The broken teeth hurt every time I took a breath.
She looked embarrassed. "I thought so, too."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she'd done this to me but I didn't. I had enough problems without her tossing my things out on the street whilst I was stuck in here.
The nurse returned with a doctor.
"I'd like to keep you for the day," he said, "if that's okay?"
He looked to Milaina, who threw her hands up.
"He can't work anyway."
Geez, she was all heart, that woman. She left me there saying she would check on me.
"How did you get me here?" I asked.
But she was already hurrying away. I knew the men lining up outside the hotel would be impatient.
By the end of the day my pain had worsened and the nurse gave me a shot of morphine. I slept hard, bad dreams haunting me. How did people get addicted to this stuff? It was horrible. I kept waking each time I rolled onto my injured side. In the middle of the night I got up, staggering down the hall to the nearest john. I looked horrible. I opened my mouth. Two teeth on the top had been broken in half. Slightly to the side, they still looked bad the second I forced my mouth into a grin.
Jason would never want me now.
I fought hard against being kept in the hospital because I was afraid of my bedroom being ransacked. I took the streetcar back to Chinatown in spite of the nursing staff's wishes. I went by the Florsheim shoe store but I had no money on me to buy some. I couldn't even pick up a pair of penny sandals at Ching's Market, but the old lady at the store on the corner of King Street offered me some zori slippers and told me to pay her later.
"Take an orange too," she said. "I know you like those."
I had no idea who the two men were who'd attacked me but I was now jumpy and nervous. In my mind the orange could double as a weapon and my hold on it strengthened, but my heart pounded so loudly every time I heard footsteps approaching, I was a basket case by the time I reached the hotel. I thought I would have a heart attack.
"Tinder." Milaina looked shocked to see me. "Why did they let you out?"
"I couldn't stay there any longer."
She said I was in no shape to work and if I couldn't work, I couldn't stay there.
"Are you joking?"
"I never joke about money. I can give you twenty-four hours. I'm not completely hard-hearted but I need that room. I have to keep business flowing in and out of here. This isn't a hospital ward, you know."
"All right," I said. I tottered to my room, wondering where I'd go next. I had money saved but I couldn't start hiring myself out as a whore. Not until I got myself fixed up. God, the unfairness of it all just grilled my cheese. In my room, I was relieved to find the key still tucked behind the framed photograph. I slept with it under my pillow. Late in the afternoon, Milaina came to see me.
"Your Chinese friend wants to book you for Saturday night. What should I tell him?"
Man, I thought I would bawl on the spot.
"Tell him no."
"You want me to tell him what happened?"
"No. I don't want him to feel like I'm asking him for anything. And...I don't want him to see me like this."
A couple of hours later I heard his car. I would have known the sound anywhere now. To me, it was a kind of love song. I tensed as I heard voices. It wasn't him. It was his uncle. I stole a look out the window as he left. He glanced curiously over his shoulder as he walked towards the car. I flopped back on the bed. In the morning, I'd have to find new digs.
Milaina greeted me with fury when I walked into the kitchen with my bags packed and my not-so-great shoes on my feet the following morning.
Every inch of me still ached but I no longer felt like I was going to die. My broken teeth started to throb, however.
"You know how many clients I had to turn away yesterday?"
I didn't know and I didn't care.
"It's not like I set out to get beaten up," I told her.
"We had a good thing going here, boy. You get yourself cleaned up, you come back and I will put you right back to work again, lickety-split."
"Thanks, Milaina."
I let her hug me, and as a parting gesture, I drank a cup of coffee with her. Part of my fees to her paid for breakfast but I usually didn't eat it. I did like coffee though. Hers was usually very good. She used a Portuguese blend available in the local markets, but this time the milk tasted a little sour. I didn't complain. I was afraid of her. I was on my own again and the feeling was horrible. I said goodbye to the girls. Only a couple of them spent more than a few seconds with me. The rest were too busy dealing with guys climbing the stairs.
Milaina didn't ask where I was going and since I didn't know, I didn't have much to tell her. I was still certain she'd set me up but I had no proof.
I was halfway down River Street when I heard a voice call my name.
Déjà vu.
I almost peed my pants until a hand clapped my shoulder.
"Tinder, it's only me."
I turned to find Eugene Miller's sorrowful, youthful eyes staring into my face. He indicated I should follow him. I walked to his Hotel Street parlour with him and he handed me my shoes.
"One sock still has your cash, the other one doesn't."
"How did you get it?"
"Never mind. You're a friend to everyone here and nobody liked seeing you get beat up. Especially you being outnumbered. So she tossed you out, huh?"
I was still in shock. Half my money was back. And my good shoes, too.
"Eugene, thank you. Thank you...you'll never know."
"Hey, it's not a problem. Question is what will you do now?"
"No idea."
"You look like you're in a lot of pain. Those teeth bothering you?"
"Yeah, as it happens."
He gave me the number of a good dentist on King Street.
"You might have an infection which is why your face is all puffy. Go see him, he's a good guy. Tell him I sent you. If you need a place to sleep, you're welcome to stay here. I have a room upstairs I've been renting to friends but you're welcome to rest here for a couple of days."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure." He wouldn't take money for the room.
I said I'd buy him dinner. I left my belongings upstairs, minus my safety deposit box key. I stuffed my cash into my wallet. The sock trick obviously hadn't worked. I did as he suggested and walked to King Street. I stopped and paid the old lady who'd kindly give me the zoris and was almost at the dentist's office when I heard a car horn honk. I swallowed. And looked around.
Jason sat in his car, looking at me. "Get in."
His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses.
"Where's your suitcase?"
"At Miller's."
He frowned, but didn't say a word until we reached his Nu'uanu Street house.
"Come in," he said. "I'll go back and get the suitcase later."
Inside his house, he grabbed me as soon as he shut the door.
"Jesus, baby, who did this to you?"
His sunglasses fell to the floor as he took them off. I saw the tears in his eyes. I was so stunned to see him crying, I couldn't speak.
"Your face...Tinder, I can't bear that somebody did this to you."
He kissed and held me, his tears streaming down his face. He got me crying, too.
"You see now why I hide in darkness? Being homosexual makes us outcasts."
His tears subsided. I let him hold me tighter, even though it hurt.
"Have you eaten? Would you like some tea?"
"My teeth ache," I told him.
He released his grip on me, his fingers lifting my chin so he could look at my teeth.
"We'll get you to the dentist this morning."
"I..." God I wanted to say I loved him. Instead, I thanked him.
"You can't go back there, Tinder."
"How did you find out?"
"Milaina told my uncle."
"I told her not to."
"You almost broke my heart, Tinder. Don't you know I would do anything to help you? You know you can't go back there."
"I have to work."
"You can work for me."
I took a deep breath, then winced.
"We'll talk about this later. First, I want to call the dentist and take care of those teeth. Did you get any sleep?"
"A little."
"You really didn't want to see me Saturday night?"
I shook my head. "I didn't want you to see me like this. Nothing else."
"Okay." He looked relieved. He placed a gentle kiss on my swollen cheek.
He made a few calls and I lay on his bed in his elegant bedroom. I must have dozed off because he soon gently shook me awake.
"Come on, baby. The dentist can see you in fifteen minutes."
We zoomed back to Chinatown and we passed a line for the YMCA. That was the first port of call for new servicemen in town. They'd check in at the Y, find out about the local entertainments and then they lined up for every other damned thing in the world.
At King Street, Jason parked his car in a spot behind a vegetable truck.
"You think it will be okay here?" I asked.
"You're more important to me," he responded. "Let's get you fixed up."
His dentist was the same one Eugene had recommended.
"I told him I'd buy him dinner tonight."
Jason frowned. "That little kid sniffing around my turf?"
I laughed and boy did it hurt. "He's my friend."
"Okay, okay."
His dentist was very kind and asked me, "How many rounds did you go? How does the other guy look?"
He made me laugh, making my teeth ache. He fitted me with a nitrous oxide mask over my nose.
"Breathe through your nose, not your mouth. This will make you feel very relaxed and comfortable. Quite euphoric."
He smiled when he saw me smile.
"I'll give you a minute to feel the effects, then we can get started."
"Can you tell I'm nervous?"
"Your teeth look very good. I take it you haven't had to do much dental work before this."
"None."
"Well, today's your lucky day." He told me the pleasant effects of the gas would evaporate as soon as he turned off the machine.
"Don't make a mistake and turn it off yet," I implored.
"I'll try not to."
It turned out one tooth had been cracked near the gum line, making it hurt. He worked on me, talking to me as I lay back, my thoughts spiralling out into the universe. He could have extracted all my teeth and I wouldn't have cared. A couple of times he had to nudge me and tell me to open wider or bite down on a cast he was making, but I was in a filmy dream state where Jason and I were naked together, taking pleasure in one another. An endless, erotic, love dance.
These were the happiest thoughts of my life.
"Okay," the dentist said. "All over. I've put a temporary bridge on those teeth. These should hold until we get the permanent bridge in place. Just don't bite down too hard. I'll call you in three weeks."
"Call me? Where?"
"Mr. Qui said we could reach you through his office. You do work for him, don't you?"
"Er...yes. Thank you."
He showed me my new smile in a small mirror. They didn't look bad at all.
"You're a genius," I said.
"They are porcelain, a new technique we're using. Some of you young bucks like gold, but I'd like to keep your teeth natural looking. You have such pretty teeth."
"Well, I used to."
"You're still gorgeous. Like I said, the bridge is temporary but if you have any problems, just come back in and we'll take care of it."
Out in the waiting room, I tried to pay my bill with the money I'd retrieved from my sock.
"Mr. Qui already took care of it," the nurse said. "We'll call you as soon as the bridge comes in."
For an architect, that sounded funny, but I resisted the impulse to laugh. The nurse gave me a bottle of antibiotics and some pain relieving tablets.
I thanked her and as I turned to leave, I saw a number of servicemen waiting. One guy moaning with pain seemed to agitate the others.
"Was it bad?" a young Marine asked me.
"No. Not at all." I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. Now that the mask wasn't piping euphoric air into my brain, the pain was back, though not as bad as it had been.
I found Jason waiting for me at the door, watching me, his gaze burning into mine.
"You want something to eat?" he asked me as we went back outside.
"Yes," I said. "Can you guess what I want?"
He grinned. "You still want that even the way you're feeling?"
"More than ever. I thought about you the whole time."
"Ah. I hope I get to hear about it."
"I believe in show, don't tell, Mr. Qui."
He laughed.
My suitcase was in the back of his car, a brown paper parcel beside it. He drove us back home.
"I bought some special herbs from the ginseng lady on Maunakea Street. She said I should brew these as a tea for you and you'll be feeling very good in a couple of days."
"Thank you, Jason. I don't know what I would have done without you."
"You would have survived."
"I want to pay you back for the medical bills."
"No. It burns me up that I wasn't there to help you. It's the least I can do."
He switched on the radio. Glenn Miller was singing about those Three Little Fishes again.
Back on Nu'uanu Street, I walked inside, happy to be back. I felt safe here.
Jason and I were all over each other the second the door was closed.
He took off my clothes, his fingers running over the bandages the nurse had put over my shoulder down to my ribs. There wasn't much they could do for broken ribs except add some support.
"Let's have a bath," he said.
"A bath isn't what I had in mind."
He laughed. "I'm here to help you, remember?"
"If you let me suck your cock, then if you fuck me with it, we'll both feel really good."
"We...ah...we can do that."
He steered me to the bedroom. I grappled with his cock as he tore down the silk bedspread. I didn't give him a chance to get comfortable. I wanted him in my mouth. He stroked my head as I knelt between his legs on the bed, suckling ferociously on his cock.
"Oh, God, baby." He shifted around, his cock fucking my mouth. His hands massaged my neck and scalp. It felt so good.
I released him so I could lick the head and the tiny, angry-looking vein at the ridge. He hissed.
"Suck it, baby, please."
He thrust his way back into my mouth and I gently rolled his balls in my hand.
"Oh, God. Tinder!"
He came in thick, ropy spurts. I was shocked how hard he came. I sucked and sucked until his cock stopped pulsing in my mouth. He lay back against the bed as I released him and began licking and kissing his thighs and balls.
"What...what are you doing?" He jumped when I parted his thighs.
"I want to lick your ass."
"Bath time," he said and jumped from the bed. "Wait right here."
I lay on the bed, savouring his taste deep in my throat. I closed my eyes. How nice not to hear those men outside the window, lining up for sex. I had no idea until this moment how stressful the weeks on Hotel Street had been. I opened my eyes again, thinking of Eugene's words and Jason's declaration that I'd been targeted for being homosexual. It stood to reason that I might have been singled out. I thought I'd kept a pretty low profile, but now I realised how vulnerable all the prostitutes were. I was out there, on my own, unlike the girls. Somehow, whoever attacked me knew I'd been paid the day before. Maybe this was common knowledge. Losing two hundred and twelve dollars was a small price to pay for being alive and intact, more or less.
"Come on, baby."
Jason called me from the bathroom. It took me a few moments to find it, but he was crouched beside a claw-footed tub, his hands agitating the steamy water, on top of which floated twigs and dried rose buds.
"All of these have healing properties," he said, rising and taking my hand.
Both our cocks were hard. Hot water and an intoxicating perfume will do that to a man. I stepped in, enjoying the feeling of his hands on me, unwrapping the bandages from my body.
"Sandalwood," I said, inhaling.
"Very good. This is one of my favourite blends."
He sat opposite me, taking the rough end of the tub, with the faucet poking over his shoulder.
"We'll need a bigger bath if we keep doing this together," he said with a smile.
We soaked, our feet and hands rubbing at one another.
"I feel quite sleepy," I said.
"No, baby. That's relaxation. I have no idea how you stood it down on Hotel Street. It's been bothering me since the moment I first found you."
He leant forward and kissed me.
"I don't want to go back," I said. I really, really didn't.
"And you won't. We will talk about this later, okay? I want to fuck you and let you get some sleep, then I need to do some work. Tonight, we'll go have some supper with your friends. I owe Eugene a lot. He apparently saved you from those two thugs."
"He did? Eugene? He didn't say."
"I wish I'd been there. I would have shot them both."
"Don't be angry, Jason. I'm okay."
"I am angry. And I'll stay angry, too." He leant into me. "I've put out the word there's a reward for whoever turns those two cowards into the police."
"You did that...for me?"
He smiled. "Of course. I can't have a broken man in my bed now, can I?"
After drying my body with a soft towel, he wrapped fresh bandages around my torso.
"Hey, you're doing a better job than they did at the hospital."
"I have some skills." He leant in and kissed me.
He let me dry him off but his cock was so hard again, he pulled the towel from my hands. We went back to his bedroom, his hands cupping my ass as he held me to him, kissing me.
"My kissing skills have improved since I met you," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but you are the first man I have ever kissed this way."
"I'm honoured," I said.
"No, it is I who am honoured." His tongue flicked across my throat.
I felt my pulse start to race.
"See how hungry we are for one another?" he asked, grabbing our cocks in his hand, holding them together. "There is a lot of ancient art from the far East that depicts two men together like this. I think there is no more erotic sight than two men naked together."
"I agree with you."
He smiled. "Even as a boy, I found the male form more alluring than the female."
"I didn't until I found myself lusting after a guy in college. Then he sucked my cock in the showers one day and I never looked at another woman again."
"You slept with women?"
"A few years ago, but I never found it gratifying."
"Did you find Hotel Street sex gratifying?"
"No. Not physically."
"What then?"
"I found some of the men...sweet. Some of them were lonely. One guy said he gave up drugs so he could pay to see me...some of them...I'm their first male lover...some are, well..."
"What?"
"Some I know I will never see alive again. Many of those men on Hotel Street are boys. There's a reason the women there are often referred to as comfort women. I see myself as a comfort man. I give them what I can in three minutes. We're sending boys off to battle and most of them will never see their families again."
"You're right. You know, I never looked at it like that."
"The women are still there, Jason. I'm here in your beautiful house with you...a man I genuinely like---"
"You only like me?"
"I love you. I just don't want to push you away."
"You won't. I'd like to keep you here with me. Would you be okay with that?"
"Doing what, exactly?"
"I have some ideas I'd like to discuss, but right now, I'd really like to make love if that's okay with you."
"If we do it my way."
"What's your way?"
I put him back on the bed and licked and sucked his cock. He was eager, quick to respond. I tried to tongue his ass again and he resisted.
"You'll come so hard after I suck your ass and then you can fuck me, I promise."
"Really?"
"Really."
He was so tentative at first but he soon got into the spirit of being licked and sucked in his most private place. Men who like to top often have a hard time with oral attention to their bottoms, but to me, it would have been remiss not to show him such bliss.
Jason was so worked up by the time I ran my tongue back up to his cock that he was eager and ready to fuck.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"Then fuck me from the side."
He took his time, rubbing his moist, leaking head against my hole, getting me ready for him. I loved the way his balls slapped at my ass. He moved deeper and deeper into me, fucking me with a slow, gentle rhythm. The simmering heat was slow to come to a boil in me, but boy did he know what he was doing. He took my cock in his fingers, coaxing me to come as his fingers jerked on me in a determined way.
We came together, a flood of crimson and gold fireworks going off in my brain. He cried out, his hand gripping my cock. He did not stop stroking me until his own pleasure abated.
"Oh, my God. How come no woman ever wanted to suck my ass?" he asked.
"Has a man ever wanted to?"
He shrugged. "One tried...I'm telling you, I am more open with you than anybody."
He lay with his arm slung around my belly. He left me to doze and I was aware of him moving away from me. Sometime later, he was back, dressed for work, a plate of food in his hands.
"Stay in bed," he said, after waking me with kisses. "I want you to drink all the tea. It is kukicha, very healing green tea. On the plate you have salmon and rice, seaweed and spinach. The octopus balls are fresh and full of iron. I'll be home by six to pick you up."
"Okay," I said, kissing him.
"Tell me you love me again, I need to hear it."
"I love you."
He smiled, kissing me again. I wanted to walk him to the door but he seemed to think I was too fragile to get out of bed.
"Stay where you are," he insisted. "See you tonight, handsome."
I lay back, watching him leave. I ate and drank, feeling much better for the sustenance. I soon grew tired again, though. I put the tray on the floor, turned over and went to sleep.
Jason rushed home right on time, eager to take Eugene, a couple of his friends and me to dinner. Eugene and the others were already in the car.
"I was really counting on a quickie," I said as I slipped on my jacket.
Jason laughed. "We can have a quickie or a longie...whatever you like, as soon as we come back home."
Home. I grinned at him. I had no idea how I'd managed to fall into this wonderful man's life, but I was beyond grateful. I felt happier than I had in ages.
He surprised us all by taking us to Waikiki Lau Yee Chai, a wonderful Chinese restaurant on Kuhio Street.
The ornate brass and gold doors, the imposing gold Siamese archway greeting us as we walked to our table, let us know we were in another time and place...another kingdom.
"This is some fancy set-up," Eugene whispered to me. "I better watch my table manners here. Is that waitress batting her eyelids at me, Tinder? I'm sure she's flirting with me."
Eugene was such a cut up. He wasn't even a teenager yet.
"Hey, I'll be thirteen next month," he said. "Think I'm old enough for her?"
"No," we all said in unison.
We studied the menu.
"This beats Wo Fat," Eugene said. "You get two choices there. Chop sui with a lot of grease, or chop sui with not so much grease."
Nothing was hurried. Starched white napkins, dainty cups of tea, dishes brought out at a leisurely pace and much laughter between us all made for one of my most unforgettable dining experiences.
We ate lobster that came infused with a garlic sauce that was delicate and addictive. Boneless, stuffed ducks, crispy, just-tossed baby vegetables and bowls of lychee sorbet washed down the rich, spicy flavourings, cleansing our palates.
This was definitely not Wo Fat.
I saw another side to Jason, the one that emerged when we were alone together. He was not the subdued, stiff Jason I'd seen the night we double dated Sherry and Kathy. He was fun, charming, bright, and I was sorry when our meal ended.
We dropped our friends back to the madness of Chinatown. Eugene, however, was pleased to be there.
"I need bigger pants," he said. "I've run out of notches on my belt. I think I'll have to waddle back to my shop."
Jason and I drove back to Waikiki, watching the waves from the sea wall.
"I want to kiss you," he said, but other couples were around us.
I would have taken the risk but understood his desire for decorum.
"This has been the single most satisfying day for me," he said. "All day, I loved knowing you were in my bed, waiting for me."
"I loved being there."
"Tinder, I don't want you to go back to that life."
"I don't want to, either."
"If I help you get a normal job, will you promise not to go back to Hotel Street?"
"Are you joking? I couldn't imagine in a million years wanting to go back there."
"Good." He leant on the wall, gazing out to sea. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?"
"I want to design and build houses." I shrugged. "Not much call for that in this time of uncertainty."
"Don't be so sure. I think there might be a way." He sighed.
"Jason...sometimes...I feel your thoughts are so far away. Is everything all right?"
"I keep thinking about my mother...and yours. I wish they could have met."
"That's a beautiful thing to think." I waited a beat then asked, "Where are your parents buried?"
"Half their ashes are scattered in Canton, where we are from. I also have some of their ashes interred at the Manoa Cemetery. My mother was from New England. You may not know that. Her grandparents and parents were missionaries. She met my father and married him, despite a lot of family resistance. They wanted her to marry somebody white."
"She must have loved your father very much."
"Yes, she did. I think that's why I want somebody like her. She was strong and principled as well as beautiful."
"She sounds a lot like my mother."
"Do you go to the cemetery a lot?"
"No. I went the other day. I am so sorry you lost both your parents at the same time."
"Thank you. Me, too." He turned and looked at me. "You did, too. I feel bad about this but you may as well know, Linda Crane, your father's girlfriend, is one of my employees. She's the one who told me who you were."
"Oh...I see."
"I think she really loves your father."
"Are they going to work for you in Maui?"
"Not directly. But she is going to do some trade through me. They want to open a shipping business, importing things to the island. I said I would help. Does that bother you?"
"I don't know. I guess not."
There was an awkward silence between us. The first one I'd ever felt with him.
"You know...Schofield Barracks and the new development out at Pearl Harbor will be expanding. I'm sure they could use an architect on some of their projects."
"Jason, are you changing the subject?"
He laughed. "Yes. Is it working?"
"Not really."
He took my hand and held it. "Can we go home and fool around now?"
"You won't get an argument about that particular topic from me."
Back at the house, he brewed some tea as I unpacked my belongings, putting everything in the second bedroom as he requested. I might have been sleeping with him, but he wanted appearances kept up.
"Who comes here?" I asked.
"Cleaning women. I have two who work in my offices and they come here twice a week. I'm warning you now, I like to cook and I like to entertain, but I loathe doing dishes."
"I'll keep that in mind."
In the bedroom, which was illuminated only by candles, we sat naked together on the bed, sipping kukicha tea. We were violating so many laws, starting with curfew. We shouldn't have had any light in the house at all, but Jason assured me nothing could be seen from outside.
"Being naked with you is better than being with a hundred naked dancing girls," he said. "Sip. This tea is better when you drink it very hot."
So, we sipped.
"I've been thinking more about what you should do for work," he said.
"And?"
"I've bought a few houses that are pretty run down and will need to be rebuilt. I am thinking, in spite of the government's protestations, America will be dragged into the war and we'll need reliable, affordable housing. The homes I bought were from locals who were keen to get out. I could show them to you and you can make some sketches."
"That sounds wonderful."
"I would pay you a salary, but technically speaking, I won't be paying you for your personal services any longer but your professional ones."
"Who would these homes be designed for?"
"Officers. Schofield Barracks can't contain all the high-ranking officials who'll be coming here over the next few months and over the next couple of years."
"You think the war will happen? That there will be an invasion?"
"Yes. Don't you?"
"I was certain of it on Hotel Street. The way the military guys on the street talked about it...but here, alone with you, it feels very far away."
He nodded. "I understand. But I've thought about this a lot. The military can't keep the hotels closed to the public forever. If the war progresses, and more and more personnel come to the islands, they will need affordable housing."
"That makes sense."
"Of course it makes sense. I'm a sensible man." He smiled. "How are you feeling?"
"Very good." I glanced down at my fully erect penis. "Can't you tell?"
"Well, I didn't want to assume anything." He licked his lips. "Do you feel good enough to play a little?"
"I always feel good enough for that."
"Whatever happens...Tinder, I don't want you to be with anyone else."
"I won't...until you get married. Then I will have to move on."
"Then I won't get married."
"You're saying that now..."
"Let's just enjoy being together. Tonight was fun, wasn't it?"
"It was one of my favourite evenings in my whole life."
He took the cup out of my hand, putting it on the bedside table. He lay me gently beside him, kissing my face, my throat and down my body. He kept asking if he was hurting me. He wasn't. His hand migrated down to my cock and I felt a surge of pleasure ripple through me.
"I'm so sorry I sprang the double date on you that night at Queen's Surf. I shouldn't have done that to you."
"No, you shouldn't have."
"I can't believe how much I want you. Tinder, we could be like this every day."
"Then let's start right now."
He kissed me. The feeling of his naked body pressed close to mine was intoxicating. I loved the feel of his skin, the scent of his breath, the tiny cries that escaped his lips when I caressed him.
Jason's lips closed over my nipples. In my sexual haze, I was aware that the more time we spent together, the more open he became with exploring all parts of my body. He sucked my left nipple, then the right.
He raised his face, teasing the hard nub with his fingertips. "I find it is as pleasurable to suck you like this as it is a woman. The sensation is very intense for us men, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh."
"I have something I want to give you. I bought them before I met you, but I assure you, they are yours."
"What are they?"
He rose from the bed. I was so aroused from what he'd been doing to me it was hard to focus. He left the room and came back, closing the door again. He sat beside me, handing me a small silk box.
"For you."
I sat up and opened the coil of fine thread wrapped around the toggle of the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of black silk lay two golden balls, the size of marbles, joined by a long thread. Another long thread drifted below the second ball.
When I lifted them, I heard a chiming sound. As I twisted them around in my fingers, the balls opened. Little gold leaves, like tiny tongues sprang from them.
"What are they?"
"Geisha balls."
"What do we do with them?"
"Would you like me to show you?"
"Sure."
He pushed me back on the bed, sucking me off quickly, spitting my juices onto my waiting ass hole. He rubbed his thumb against me, until he started inserting the first ball. I was so excited I almost came again. The first ball moved into me and I felt the chime from it vibrating through my body.
"Are you comfortable?"
"Very."
He kissed my cock and ball sac, working the second ball inside me. He left the string hanging and after giving me a quick, sly smile, he started licking my cock again. I got hard and he sucked a little harder. Reaching under me, he slid his hands under my ass, moving his face down my body.
He licked my hole and raised me a little higher to his face. He tugged on the string with his teeth. I felt the chimes shoot through me.
"Oh, Jason...that's so weird...and so wonderful."
He didn't respond. He moved his mouth back over my cock. I'd never seen a man take such pleasure in sucking his lover this way. I rocked against his face, enjoying the sensations in my ass, ricocheting through my body. He reached down and tugged on the string. I thought he was pulling the geisha balls out of me but oh no, I felt the balls open up, the little tongues flickering inside me. One of them worked at my prostate and I went berserk.
Jason did not stop sucking but moved my body up and down and from side to side, the maddening little tongue prodding insistently deep inside me. I came so hard I saw a fusion of red and yellow sparks and lights behind my eyes.
I was still erupting when he drew the balls from my ass and, at my urging, stuck his cock into me as deeply as he could.
Jason fucked me hard, his mouth glued to mine. Our passions sent the balls tumbling to the ground. He came in me, the sounds of little chimes accompanying our cries.
He rocked inside me long after he stopped coming. I felt safe, protected and also still in the throes of wild desire for the man.
"What an incredible invention," I whispered as he lay on me, still warm and deep inside me.
"I have found many toys but have never wanted to share them before. I'll have to dig the other things out."
"You really never used them on a man...or a woman?"
"No," he started, when he realised how heavy he was on my body.
"Your ribs. Did I hurt you?"
I shook my head.
He rolled off me and lay beside me, his arms reaching to hold me close. The only sound between us was our laboured breathing. And then I heard the flickering of candlelight. I could smell the strong scene of beeswax as the last candle extinguished beside us. We were in complete darkness, soft and sweet, kissing each other. The perfect time for secrets.
"I have something to tell you," he said.
"What is it?"
"Tinder, please don't sound afraid. I hope you'll think it's a good thing."
I let out a breath. "Okay, so what is it?"
"I know for certain now."
"What, baby?"
"I can't get married. Not to any woman. I have no idea how my family will take it...or even if they need to know. But I want...no...I have to be with you. We will find a way."
His words inspired and filled me. I didn't respond because there was nothing I could say. It was enough to know he felt this way in this moment. I leant closer to him and kissed his parted lips. He responded immediately and reached to the floor.
"I want these balls back in you. I want you to come all over again."
He made me laugh and made me happy, the sound of tinkling balls swiftly becoming my favourite tune in the world.
Friday, October 3, 1941
The following morning, I watched Jason making tea for our breakfast. I wanted to learn to brew the way he did it so I could make it in the future. I watched him slice fruit and boil eggs in his gentle way. He scraped a small amount of butter on sesame-seaweed crackers and we sat outside on his lanai, enjoying the cool morning air as we ate.
"When did you speak to your father last?" he asked.
"A few weeks ago."
"He's leaving for Maui this weekend. Did you know that?"
I lifted my shoulders. "I had no idea they were still here."
Jason bit into his last sliver of mango and seemed to weigh his words.
"You should call him and wish him aloha."
Tears stung my eyes.
Jason's hand covered mine and I realised my hand was shaking.
"If you believe anything I say to you, Tinder, believe this. I wish..." He exhaled loudly. "I would give anything...anything in my life just to speak to my father again. I can never hear his voice, I can't ask him for his advice. I can't even argue with him. Your father is a man whose grief has been eating away at him since he first discovered your mother's illness. She loved you both. Please think about calling him."
"I don't want him to see me like this, all banged up."
He looked at me. "Just call him."
I broke a piece of cracker in my fingers and tossed it to the grass for the birds hopping around the garden.
"It's beautiful here, Jason. I think sitting out here, with your hand touching mine, you could talk me into anything."
He stood and leant down and kissed me.
"Can I talk you into a quick roll in the hay before I have to leave for work?"
"Like I said, you could talk me into anything."
As soon as he was gone, I did my best to clean the house so it would look nice when Jason came home at lunchtime to take me to view the houses he'd bought. I was excited to be involved in this project and wanted to design wonderful homes that locals could afford and would want to live in, as well as visiting military officials.
I kept staring at his phone and finally picked up the receiver. It felt cold and heavy to the touch. I called Liberty House and my father seemed as surprised as I was that I had called him.
"Son, I've missed you."
"I missed you too, Dad."
"Two more days and Linda and I are leaving for Maui. If you would ever consider it, I would love you to come and work there with me."
"Thanks, Dad. I'll keep it in mind."
A pause. "Tinder, is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"That you are...prostituting yourself on Hotel Street?"
"No, Dad. It's not true. I admit for a while I was. But I've stopped that now."
He groaned. "Then it is true. Oh, Tinder..."
I cringed. My, how quickly the tide of ugliness had turned.
"People talk," he said. "This has been very embarrassing to me. You're going to find it will haunt you. Remember what I said. You may want to start a new life in Maui. This is our address there. I hope, at least, you'll stay in touch with me."
"Of course I will."
I jotted down his details. My father was ecstatic about their new home in Kihei.
"It's right on the beach near the Ma'alea wetlands. This is an exciting new phase in my life."
He rambled a little longer about his plans for a general store that would double as a boat rental facility and then my father said goodbye. All in all, I was sorry I'd allowed Jason to persuade me to call him. I wondered how long he'd known about my Hotel Street life and hoped that he was wrong. I didn't want it haunting me for the rest of my life.
Jason came home a little before noon with bags of groceries and a bag of makeup.
"We need to cover your bruises and I had this mixed with some ointment so it will heal you as well camouflage."
"Can I have a kiss as well?"
"Only if you keep your hands out of my pants."
"How did you know my plans?"
"I see you looking at my zipper with an expression of bad intentions."
"Huh."
"Did you call your father?"
"Yes."
"It didn't go well?"
"No, it did not."
He stood in front of me in the kitchen where he insisted the light was best and patted on the makeup.
"Much better. We'll take this canister with us."
I spied some plans rolled up in one of the food sacks. As he unpacked his purchases, I studied the plans of the three houses he'd bought in Hawaii Kai.
"Let's go and take a look and then I'll drop you back. I have some meetings this afternoon and then I can't wait to come home and have dinner with you."
"Naked?"
He grinned. "If you insist."
His uncle was surprised when I showed up with Jason at the location for the houses Jason had bought for redevelopment. They overlooked the Maunalua fishpond, where even now, a family was scooping out a locally favourite fish called 'ama 'ama and mullet. They filled large tin tubs with the gigantic, thrashing fish.
I grinned, knowing they'd make the rounds of restaurants and the two military hotels, selling them their bounty.
I'd prepared a rough sketch of how the houses could be built around the pond so nothing needed to be destroyed.
"You drew these?" Dingxiang asked, looking astonished.
"Tinder is an architect." Jason sounded proud.
I tried to brush away the thoughts of my father's dire warning.
As we left the property, Jason asked me if I could drive.
"Sure I can. I had a car but it kind of went to rust when I went to school on the mainland."
"The salt air here is punishing on vehicles," he said. "I was thinking. If you can drive, then maybe you can drop me at my office and pick me up later. Maybe you want to enjoy your first day of freedom."
"That's really swell of you."
He let me drive him back to Chinatown and we listened to the radio. It was The Three Little Fishes again.
"You know what's weird?" he asked.
"No, what?"
"I never heard this song until I met you and now whenever I'm with you, I hear it."
"That's funny. I hear it all the time, too."
He grinned. "Don't forget to pick me up at five."
"I won't."
At the corner of Beretania and Fort Street, I dropped him outside his office. I admired the words Qui Enterprises written in English and Chinese, in gold lettering across the top of the building.
"Tomorrow, I want you to come to work with me and meet everyone," he said. "I want you to get to know the business."
"I would love that."
"Enjoy yourself," he said. "See you in a few hours."
I gripped the wheel of his beautiful car and wished I could have kissed him. He winked at me. It would have to make do...for now.
As I cruised out of Chinatown, I passed a couple of beat cops walking past a long line of sailors waiting for their three-dollar thrills outside the Western Rooms on Beretania. Both officers stopped and stared at me. Their facial expressions froze me. I almost drove into a lamppost. They turned and watched me drive away. My hands shook. I was certain they knew I was a prostitute and prostitutes weren't allowed to own or drive vehicles.
I raced back to Jason's house, fearful of being arrested. My dad had been right. My past was already coming back to haunt me. Back at the house, I paced and fretted. I kept looking outside the window, expecting to see police vehicles coming for me. By four-thirty, I was a wreck. I almost called Jason and told him I couldn't pick him up. I felt like a mouse, not a man, having spent these few hours hiding in his house. I had to grow my balls back and go pick him up.
In spite of all my good intentions, I didn't get very far. I was pulled over by a uniformed patrol on the corner of Kalakaua Avenue. The two officers hauled me out of the car, handcuffed me and pocketed the key to the Phaeton, leaving the car parked on the corner.
"You're under arrest for violating section fifty-seven of the penal code," the first officer told me. He yanked on the cuffs as the tossed me into the backseat of their car. They drove me to the Waikiki station on Beretania Street.
I sat on a bench in the front office room with a line of drunken sailors and a local man who'd been arrested for fishing from his neighbour's koi pond.
When the arresting officers finally came for me, they took me to a small room and removed the cuffs from my hands. What a relief. My left wrist was bruised and bleeding, my right hand throbbed with the freedom for the blood to pump back through my veins.
They told me to sit at a table. Opposite me was another chair.
"Where are you working now?" a third uniformed officer asked me as he entered the room. There was no introduction. He just went straight into battle.
"I just spoke to your...employer, Milaina Malcar, and she said you no longer work for her."
"That's right. I'm no longer a prostitute."
He stared at me. "Then you need to leave this island at once. That's the rules."
"But I'm a local. I was born and raised in Waikiki. As long as I have gainful employment, I'm entitled to live in my hometown, right?"
I had no idea where this burst of confidence came from but it sure had the desired effect.
The smirks left all three officers' faces. The officer asking all the questions glanced from the other two back to me. He was not pleased with them. They both started to look nervous.
"So you're saying you were born here---"
"That's right. You can check with my father. He works for Liberty House. I'm sure he'll be at his desk."
He stared at me a moment and dismissed the other officers.
"And what are you doing for employment now?"
"I work for Jason Qui of Qui Enterprises."
"As a whore?"
"No. As an architect. You can call Mr. Qui and verify this."
"I will. Excuse me a moment."
He got up from the desk and left me there. A piece of paper fell out of his file. He didn't notice it. The door closed behind him and I leant down to read it. I couldn't believe my eyes. Jason's car had been reported stolen...by his uncle, Dingxiang Qui.
The bastard! He had filed the report, citing me for the penal code violation. The unfairness of it all just ripped at me.
Within minutes, the officer was back.
"It looks like your employment has been verified." He looked very disappointed.
"What about Mr. Qui's car?"
"He's outside right now. He has the vehicle in question in his possession."
I cringed as the officer strode out of the room, leaving the door open, his fury evident. Over his retreating shoulder, I glimpsed Jason's troubled gaze. His relief when he saw me was also obvious. I didn't think I could ever love him more than I did in that moment. Once again, he'd come to my rescue.
And all I seemed to do was screw up and cost him money.
Outside, alone with me, his anger became obvious.
"My uncle tried a showdown in the boardroom just now. He tried to take power away from me---"
"Because of me?"
"No, because of me. Who I am. I cannot believe he had you arrested. Tinder, I am so sorry."
"I'm the one who's sorry, Jason."
"Don't you..." His voice trembled with rage. "Don't even think for one minute I will let you take responsibility for this. I will make them accept you and respect you. You see if I don't."
He took the car key from his pocket and handed it to me.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
I drove us home and as soon as we arrived, we ran inside and began mauling one another.
"What will they do to you in your business?" I asked him, fretting for his future.
"I don't want to think about that now. Just let me get your clothes off, baby."
We fell to the floor and I felt his hot breath on my thighs as he worked my trousers and underpants down my legs.
"You're not hard," he said, his tongue flicking at my cock.
"I want you...I'm just upset."
He raised his face. "I've never seen you naked without a happy cock."
"It's happy...it's just...smiling...not laughing."
"I want it to laugh."
He stood, his own cock tenting in his suit pants.
I sat up and started fumbling with the zipper.
"Oh, no. That can wait."
He gave me his hand. "Come on."
I had no idea what he had up his sleeve, but his secretive smile already had me feeling excited.
He kissed me. "Get on the bed, baby."
"No," I said. "This time, I'm going to show you something."
"You think you have some moves?"
"I sure hope so."
I held my arms out to him and he moved right into them. We kissed for a few minutes and I lay him on the bed. I knelt beside him and let my fingers stroke his skin from his chin, down his arms and chest. When I reached his belly button, I let my thumb work it, stroking tiny circles inside it. With my right hand, I held his balls, massaging them in the same clockwise strokes as my thumb in his belly button.
He started breathing hard and his cock hardened.
"Oh, this is the iron crotch technique," he said. "Only one other person ever did this to me and this is...oh...Tinder...so much better. You have the touch, baby."
I frowned. Somebody else had already done this to him? I concentrated on the ritual I'd been taught. Two hundred strokes. Two hundred and then his body would be in alignment. His cock was rigid, yearning for attention and I was just the man to do it.
As soon as I finished the iron crotch, I ordered him to his knees.
"What are you going to do?"
I buried my face in his ass, sucking and licking. He tossed his body around, squirming against me. I scooted down and licked and sucked his cock. He lifted one leg like a dog marking his turf. The poor man was so hungry for release, he babbled.
I kept my mouth on his organ, two fingers stroking at his ass hole. His eyes flew open as I gently inserted a finger inside him. He came hard, his cock erupting in my throat. I stayed the way I was, a finger in him, moving my thumb back to his belly button. He jumped and twitched and I counted to a hundred, releasing him at last.
"How was that?" I asked.
He collapsed beside me. He opened an eye.
"You're trying to kill me."
"Was I better than the last person?"
He chuckled in a dreamy way. "No comparison, baby. I wasn't in love with the other person."
Jason raised his head and kissed me.
"A little nap and then it's your turn."
He was asleep in seconds and I lay awake, listening to his soft breath at my neck. If what I'd been told was true, he'd be desperate to fuck me in an hour or so. The sexual meridians I'd just ignited in him would demand a rematch.
Over the next few days, Jason took me everywhere with him. I attended all his meetings, his business lunches and a few work dinners. I spent some money buying a couple of suits and shirts at the Silk Maker store in Chinatown.
His uncle's efforts to override Jason's authority backfired. Dingxiang was always very courteous to me but I felt sure if he got me in a dark alley alone one night, he'd try his luck at beating me to death.
Jason and I took Sherry and Kathy to dinner one night back to Gam's at Queen's Surf. It was fun. After two cocktails apiece, the girls revealed they'd given up on Jason as a suitor and, after a brief, ill-fated attempt to win me over, they said they'd given up on me, too. We drove them home.
The next day, we steered them towards the weekend dances at the army recreation centre's Club Maluhia dances, where dozens of army officers would clamour for their attentions.
"You think so?" Sherry asked me when I called and suggested it.
"I know so," I assured her.
We had a lot more fun a few nights later with Eugene and his pals. Eugene had discovered a new Korean restaurant, and although Jason was resistant at first to picking his way along thick sea grape vines to get into the unorthodox eatery, he soon found he loved the food. The restaurant was an unofficial one---just three tables---at the back of a Korean gardener's home. The chef grew his own vegetables, fished the local ponds and raised his own chickens. His wife's delicate touch with spices and herbs in their fragrant, delicious offerings impressed Jason.
I knew pretty soon, given half the chance, he'd give them money to open a little restaurant in Chinatown. Two weeks later, he did.
"Do you know how wonderful you are?" I asked him in bed one night.
He grinned. "No...tell me."
"Let me show you instead."
I dived under the covers and sucked his cock. My beautiful man held my head tightly, screaming my name as I sucked and licked his balls and cock. I worked two of my fingers inside him. He hissed his pleasure, his lovely, sweet ass squeezing hard around my probing digits as he started to come.
He panted. "You're driving me crazy. Oh...God."
When he came in a wild final thrust, I thought he'd rip apart my new bridgework.
Dingxiang still didn't like our new arrangement, but even he had to admit, whatever Jason and I did behind closed doors was not publicly evident. Jason worked hard to secure his shipments and I kept working on the plans for the houses. Being a local guy, I knew many of the people involved in the building trade and I had no qualms about calling in favours. Most guys were anxious to get work and the Homestead Office was keen to get money for licences, building plans and application fees.
Word started to spread that Qui Enterprises might have work and Jason let me cultivate a list of all the workers we would need. Our plan was to start work in early January as soon as our shipment of building supplies arrived from my old boss on the mainland. His imported goods had been delayed along with our building materials. They all waited in limbo on shipping pallets pending docking agents to approve their departure to the islands.
The weeks flew by, Jason and I spending all our days and nights together. I was ecstatic to see Christmas lights go up along Nu'uanu Avenue a few days before Thanksgiving.
Jason and I loved seeing them twinkling along the street. Due to leave for San Francisco to personally oversee our stalled shipments, his plans changed when the war office decried all unnecessary travel banned. I was secretly happy. I loved having him home with me. He, understandably, worried about business.
"They keep saying there is no imminent attack, but nobody believes it," Jason told me. "All these restrictions...what does it tell you?"
When the Christmas lights mysteriously came down a few days after they went up, we joined all the neighbours who came out to watch Honolulu City Council workers remove them all.
"Some Christmas," one of the neighbours griped. "No toys in the stores, half the food shelves empty."
Back in the house, Jason and I discussed things.
"If they think an attack is imminent, then they need to tell everybody," he said. "We need to be prepared."
We talked late into the night. Of course, we came to no conclusions but we slept in fits and starts. Invasion. It was all anybody talked about. My father's Christmas poles arrived for Liberty House, along with one pallet of our building materials.
"This is crazy," Jason told me in the dead of night, when a siren sounded.
Once again, we found ourselves outside the house with the neighbours. It was a false alarm.
We tried to take our minds off bad things. We celebrated Thanksgiving with several families, including his aunt and uncle. I was overjoyed when my dad called and wished us a happy day and invited us to Maui for Christmas.
"We would love that, Dad," I said.
Sunday, December 7, 1941
Jason woke me around seven o'clock in the morning.
"Have you ever made love in a boat?"
"No," I said, laughing.
He nuzzled my neck, his hands roaming my body. He had my cock good and hard, the way he always liked it.
"I want you," he whispered. "I keep thinking I need to get you out on the high seas and ravage you for days."
"Be my guest."
He gave me a wonderful kiss and stretched across the bed, turning on the radio. Like everybody else, we lived for radio bulletins. Glenn Miller's Three Little Fishes was playing.
"That song," Jason said with a laugh. "No wonder I keep thinking of having you on a boat. This song puts the idea in my head."
He kissed me, his body moving between my wide-open thighs when we heard the roar of planes.
"What the hell---" he raised his head.
There was a sickening moment when we could smell gunpowder, engine fuel and then---the explosion. The impact of it threw us from the bed and to the floor.
Wave after wave of explosions, the sounds of people screaming, a baby wailing. Lots of babies.
"Help me!" somebody screamed from next door.
We threw on clothes and shoes and ran outside. On our little hill on Nu'uanu Avenue, we could see it all. It was shocking, Our peaceful little piece of paradise was on fire. We looked up, watching the crazed spectacle of hundreds of planes dancing over our heads. We kept whipping around, trying to follow them. Torpedo planes, high-altitude bombers, dive bombers and fighter zeros flew right over us. They jack-knifed back to the beach, bombs going off along the harbour. The shoreline went up in flames.
"Look!" Jason pointed to the beach. Thick clouds of choking, black smoke billowed over Ford Island, racing towards Honolulu, covering everything with smoke.
"Fuck!" I screamed.
From where we stood, we saw Japanese planes zooming directly back over our heads. The aircraft skimmed trees, snapping off branches, sending down power lines. They were so low we could see the pilots' faces.
"They're smiling!" somebody shouted.
It was only then that we all started to run for cover.
The attack, the darting zeros, the sounds, vibrations, the screaming, the explosions went on and on.
There were flames leaping across the ocean water. I'd never seen anything like it. Boats bobbed in and out of the smoke...tugboats, fireboats, liberty boats. We watched people on board the small craft trying to rescue sailors in the water. The fireboats pumped out water in several directions, but still, the harbour burned.
We all stood, with tears in our eyes, watching our paradise being destroyed.
And then the planes all vanished.
I knew I would always remember the smell of the burning oil and the bombs. I would never forget the sound of planes diving down, looking for targets, landing with sickening results.
We were lucky to be alive that day.
Jason and I drove to Chinatown, worried about all the people we knew. Half the streets were covered in debris. We saw two soldiers lying on the side of Ala Moana and picked them up, driving them to the hospital. The full impact of over a thousand soldiers wounded soon hit us. Every bed, every inch of floor space, was full.
"Can you bring us more wounded? They're everywhere," the nurses told us.
We drove around for an hour, bringing men, women, injured children, until finally there was no more room. Civilians opened their houses to the wounded.
All the while, we listened for news. In a single strike, Japanese forces had decimated half the Pacific fleet. Pearl Harbor was destroyed. Over two thousand military personnel had been killed, over a thousand people injured.
We learnt that the first wave of bombs had targeted the military bases, destroying ships, boats and planes that were unmanned since an attack had been unexpected. We drove to Chinatown and found Jason's office building and bank intact. His uncle and his wife had fled to relatives on the windward side of the island the old lady at the corner market told us.
"At least we know he's okay," Jason said.
We found out that the Hotel Street prostitutes had given up their rooms to injured soldiers.
Jean O'Hara, the district's most famous, self-dubbed "Honolulu Harlot," asked us to drive her and a few of the other women to the hospital so they could help take care of the men.
Driving them back, we passed Eugene Miller who was racing to his shop.
"I have room upstairs," he shouted. "I can squeeze in a few more injured."
All day, we worked to get people off the streets.
News reports revealed that the second wave of bombings had targeted other ships and shipyards.
Martial law went into effect with a new sundown to sun-up curfew. We had no choice but to be off the streets, even as we worried there were injured people lying in the streets that we hadn't yet found.
I wondered about Sherry and Kathy. We stuck to radio as if it were a lifeline, and in reality, it was.
Each passing hour brought more bad news. The death toll climbed with over two thousand military personnel and sixty-eight civilians killed. One thousand, one hundred and four men were killed on board the battleship, the USS Arizona.
The radio announcer's voice was sombre as he said, "The Japanese forces used the Hawaiian music station playing at the time as their guiding beam."
It was a long, sad night and I was pleased when the phone rang late. Service had been restored. It was my dad.
"I want you both here. In a few days, you'll get a call from a friend of mine. I want you here, son. Bring Jason with you."
Jason was all for it. "Come here, let me hold you," he whispered. "Tomorrow's going to be another long day."
We were not surprised when we learnt the following day that the United States and Britain had declared war on Japan. Each fresh bulletin brought increasingly ugly news. Japan had set its sights on the Philippines, Guam and Shanghai. Fresh troops flew in, securing the island.
"Talk about locking the stable door after the horses have bolted," Jason muttered.
We went back to the beachfront, looking for injured people, then back to Chinatown, which, while rattled, seemed to be thriving on the new influx of military personnel.
"All the whores have taken their money and rented places in Waikiki," Eugene told us. "They got some smarts, finally." Once again, there were lines for everything, but apart from food and liquor, the only other thing available was tattoos.
"They've been lining up since dawn," Eugene said. "My hands are sore already."
Jason and I worked all day, delivering medical supplies to the former brothels.
"Well, this is a surprise," Milaina said when she saw us bringing her boxes of sterile gauzes and bandages.
"The doctors said they would send somebody down soon. Anyone in need of urgent care?" Jason asked.
She shook her head. "No, thank you. God bless you boys."
We went from hotel to hotel, collected two soldiers in severe pain and drove them back to the hospital.
Our immediate neighbours brought us fish stew in the early evening, which touched us tremendously.
We took the food inside.
"I don't want to listen to the radio. I don't want to hear more bad news," Jason said.
In the silent, safe confines of our house, we ate together, whispering our love for one another.
"Tomorrow," he said, kissing me as he took the empty plate out of my hands, "we're leaving. We've done all we can, but it isn't safe here. I want to get you out of here, start a new life. We'll come back to Honolulu but for now, Honolulu is a target and I want you protected. I love you so much, Tinder."
"Is anywhere really safe?" I asked him.
As he made love to me that night, his urgency filled me, his need for escape the same as everyone else's around us. The next morning, like so many others, we packed what we needed and found a boat in the harbour bound for Maui.
We saw a few people we knew and, of course, many we didn't.
I hated leaving Honolulu but my home was with Jason, wherever that might be.
As we lurched out of the dark, oil-slick waters, the irony was not lost on me that Jason's ancestors had once sailed into this same harbour, calling it the Sandalwood Mountains because of the heady scent from the trees, long since harvested and sold. I smelt no sandalwood, only the ravages of fire and hate. I felt Jason at my back, felt his breath at my neck as we stole one lingering look at the island we loved.
I made a promise to Honolulu that I would one day return, lickety-split, but in the meantime, our vagabond hearts had each found their home. I was and would always be a child of this land. And I would come back one day and help restore my hometown.
As King Kamehameha III once declared, the life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness.
About the Author

A.J. Llewellyn is the author of over fifty published gay erotic romance novels. He lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in his fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refuelled. A.J. loves male/male erotica, has a passion for all animals (especially the dog, the cat and the turtle). A.J. believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

Email: AJ@AJLlewellyn.com.

A.J loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

Also by A.J. Llewellyn
The Mediator
The Bouncer
Stealing My Heart: Stealing Rain
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