“So…ahem…could you tell me…would you…aha…” Chip was rambling nervously to one of the hotel staff. It wasn’t easy asking a stranger where to find hookers.

“Where do we find hookers?” Greg eventually chimed in, once Chip’s feeble attempts had become too painful.

The hotel worker looked slightly shocked, but quickly regained his composure. “Hindley Street,” he mumbled.

“And that would be?” Greg asked.

“Straight down from the mall,” the worker replied.

“Thank you,” Greg smiled and dragged Chip away.

They joined the others in a secluded corner of the lobby.

“Well?” Ryan asked.

“Hindley Street, apparently,” Greg replied, sitting down on a leather sofa next to Brad.

At that point Wayne appeared, smiling broadly. “Ok guys, the train leaves at nine.”

“Well that should give us plenty of time to chat to some street walkers,” Brad chirped.

“I might stay behind,” Drew piped up.

“Why? Don’t fancy the walk?” Ryan mused.

“Nothing like that…I just think one of us should stay here,” Drew said unconvincingly.

“Drew, it’s your fault we have to talk to the hookers in the first place, you shouldn’t get out of it,” Wayne grumbled.

“Oh, let him stay, let’s go and get it over and done with,” Colin sighed.

“This is gonna be fun,” Ryan breathed.

Hindley Street was seedy, grotty and smelt like a mix of beer and piss. It was where the freakiest of the freaks hung out, and if a drunk didn’t approach you within thirty seconds of entering it, you were bloody lucky.

“Where do we start?” Brad asked Greg as they wandered past a tall Aborigine man in nothing but a pair of gumboots and speedos.

“What, you think I’m an expert at picking up hookers or something?” Greg cussed.

“Nothing of the sort, it was a general question,” Brad grumbled.

“I dunno. Oh, Club X, that could be a start,” Greg mused.

Brad and Greg wandered into the dark building, and while Greg decided to check out what was on in the cinema, Brad found himself cornered by a feisty young woman in nothing but a corset and thigh-high boots.

“Hmm, you must be new here,” she purred.

“Must I?” Brad peeped as the woman ran a hand from his shoulder down.

“Ohh, is that an American accent?”

Brad swallowed. “Would you like it to be?”

She tutted. “You’re a hard one to get straight answers from aren’t you.”

Brad managed to break away and looked helplessly around for Greg.

“So, ah, what’s your name?” asked the woman.

“Ah…ah…Chesterfield,” Brad coughed.

“Cute. I’m Devine,” cooed the woman as she moved back over to Brad.

“I’m sure you are,” Brad said, looking around frantically.

The woman backed him against the wall. “You know Chester…I could make you VERY happy,” Devine smiled, her hand making its way lower, and lower.

Brad could feel sweat forming on his forehead.

“Look what happens when I leave you alone for five minutes.”

Brad had never been so happy to hear Greg Proops’ voice in his entire life. He hurriedly moved away while Devine was distracted and dashed out of Club X.

Greg sauntered after Brad and found him looking quite pale outside.

“Aw, did you just learn all about the birds and the bees?” Greg giggled.

“Don’t start,” Brad sighed, walking away.

“It happens to us all at some time,” Greg continued as he sped up to catch Brad.

Wayne and Chip looked as lost as each other. Where do you start looking for hookers, and how do you approach them?

“Hey what about those girls?” Chip asked, pointing out a group of three women standing on the kerb.

“Well, they look like hookers,” Wayne nodded noting the girls’ short skirts and barley there tops.

The two men sidled over together, gaining dubious looks from the girls.

“Hi…ah…I, we were wondering if we could ask you ladies a few questions,” Wayne perked.

“Are you journalists?” asked one.

“No, we just think we might have met before,” Chip chimed in.

“Oi! Are you chatting up our girls?”

Wayne and Chip turned around to see three large biker blokes glaring at them.

“Oh no, no, no…we thought they might be hookers,” even as Wayne said it he knew he’d made a huge mistake.

“Oh, great one Brady. I really need an another black eye,” Chip snapped and began backing away.

“No one calls our girls hookers,” snarled one of the bikers as he cracked his knuckles.

“We’re so sorry about that. They’re beautiful girls, it’s just Wayne here is an idiot, a stupid, stupid goddamn idiot,” hissed Chip.

“I make a little mistake and you just can’t let go, can you,” Wayne sulked.

“No, but I tell you what I am gonna do…I’m gonna RUN,” Chip announced and then bolted as fast as he could away from the biker blokes. Wayne apologised to the girls again and then caught up with Chip. Unfortunately for Chip and Wayne, the biker blokes didn’t let the issue drop and were soon gaining on them.

“Ok, now how do we lose them?” Chip screamed as they ran.

“Quick, down this side street,” Wayne yelled.

They bolted down the side street, through a small alleyway and then hit a dead end.

“I’m too young to die,” Wayne wailed.

Chip looked around frantically. “Up here,” he panted and clambered up a rickety fire escape.

Wayne followed and they ended up on the roof of the building.

“You think we’re safe?” Wayne asked.

“Oh, we better be,” Chip hissed.

“Hey, I’m sorry, ok, it just kinda slipped out,” Wayne pleaded.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Chip mused, lightening up.

“Bastard,” Wayne grumbled.

“Hey, you’re the one who nearly got us killed,” Chip scorned.

“Oh let it go, will ya,” Wayne spat as he looked down at the ally way to see if the coast was clear.

Ryan and Colin had made slight progress and had eventually been directed not to Hindley Street but to a club called the Mars Bar.

“Well this looks interesting,” Ryan mused as he and Colin took a seat at the bar.

“Ryan, has it occurred to you that this club is essentially full of men?” Colin asked.

“Yes but I was trying not to think about it,” Ryan replied, sipping his beer.

“Do you feel uncomfortable in here?” Colin asked, looking slightly worried.

“Not unless I start getting chatted up,” Ryan smiled.

They were soon approached by a transvestite who was as tall as Ryan and had the makeup of Mimi Bobeck.

“Hi boys, you’re new here, aren’t you?” smiled the transvestite.

“We hadn’t planned on it,” Ryan perked.

“Oh, a funny one. I’m Ambrosia,” she purred, holding out her hand.

“I’m Ryan and that’s Colin,” Ryan grinned shaking Ambrosia’s hand.

“American, hey,” Ambrosia cooed.

“I am, Col’s Canadian,” Ryan nodded

“Same thing, isn’t it?” Ambrosia stated.

“Not even close,” Colin piped up.

“Hey, maybe you can help us,” Ryan began. “The other day me and Col and another friend of ours went to Maslins’ beach and…”

“I thought I recognised you, darling! The photos have been doing the rounds,” Ambrosia laughed.

Ryan shook off a mortified look to continue “We apparently went with a group of women, and we’re looking for those women again. We think they might be…ah…hookers.”

“Oh they were hookers alright, from what I’ve heard on the rumour mill. Which you men seem to be on the top of at the moment. It always happens when a large group of foreign gay men come into the country,” laughed Ambrosia.

“We’re not gay…we’re married,” Colin chimed in.

“Yes honey, that’s what they all say. Anyway, as I was saying, the hookers are after one of your lot – Ritz Crispin, dealer and pimp extraordinaire.”

“Ritz Crispin? We don’t know any Ritz Crispin,” Ryan spat.

“Oh come on, the guy with the glasses, looks like that cartoon character…Dilbert. He looks so inconspicuous,” Ambrosia beamed.

Ryan and Colin looked at each other, gobsmacked, before Ryan had to stifle a giggle.

“What else can you tell us?” Colin asked.

“Well, I think the hookers that you went with just took you to Maslins for a laugh as you were so inebriated. The remaining hookers and your friends and Mr Crispin played a rather poor game of charades before Mr Crispin convinced the girls to put on a special show…if you know what I mean.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Ryan replied automatically.

Drew went straight to his hotel room, drank several mini bottles of vodka from the bar fridge, and the removed the small purple phone from where he’d shoved it in the drawer. There were more messages on the phone and Drew began to read them before the phone began to ring. This in turn was quite disturbing, as the ring tone was Mambo No. 5.

“Hello?” Drew peeped.

“Crispin?”

“Er yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“In a hotel.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“I’m serious.”

“Don’t fuck with me Crispin.”

“I wouldn’t fuck with you if you paid me.”

There was silence and heavy breathing.

“I’m gonna get you Crispin, I’m gonna rip your body from limb to limb and shit down your throat.”

“Won’t that be hard if I’ve been torn limb from limb?”

“Before I tear you limb from limb I will shit down your throat.”

“Isn’t that a bit unhygienic?”

More silence and heavy breathing

“Better watch your back, Crispin.”

“I can’t even watch my feet, let alone my back.”

There was a growl on the other end of the phone and then the dial tone. Drew ended the call and chucked the phone onto the bed. He really hoped he didn’t meet up with that guy. Drew wanted to replace the sudden fear with beer and pizza, but checking his watch he realised he’d have to meet the others at the train station soon.