Straight black hair over tanned face fresh white sheet pillows flaps up and out, over the dead red mattress. The colour of a tongue. As it settles she stops and looks up into my eyes and says sixty will cover it. I give her the cash. She says wait. Leaves. So I sit on the bed. The dimmed scarlet carpeted room is bigger than I first noticed. Almost a third bigger, and in one corner is another bed. But this one has a clear plastic sheet descending shower rail like from above it, encircling it. Someone is lying under covers in there. Then the madam comes in. Small cat like eyes close together and mean, a natural instinct to notice this. Evolution says she will be cruel. Short nazi tied up hair. She stares. Then disappears. I get up and go over and lift up the sheet and a man in a gown stares back and says he is in for an operation, he’s happy, and knows he will be hacked up. I say what I came for. He says good and laughs, desperate sick eyes. Now I know that the orgasms and operations are to be conducted simultaneously. And I start thinking of sterile lube, how this business is not healthy. Dirty. Then the madam is back again. I want my money back. Anonymous white shirts wheel in another patient. She says there is no way I can get my money back. At some point I see the first girl back again. But she disappears. Then I say I want my money back and the madam says I’m not getting it. No way. And even though on some level of consciousness I know this is a bad dream, and I am losing nothing. Slight anxious, easing. The money is not real anymore. And I wake up as I walk through the door, half arguing about the money. I wake -sweating- up now.