She shut the door and then closed the red curtains, the only sign one would get that the room and the lady were occupied now.

The space was small, with a sink, toilet, and, of course, a bed. Set next to the sink was a button. It was the one the hookers pushed in an emergency. Then the police would suddenly appear and drag away the customer who’d gone too far to satisfy himself. This was one of the best-patrolled areas in the city – anything to keep the tax revenue coming. Shaw saw a second door in the back wall and then glanced away. In the next room the sounds of another happy customer were coming through loud and clear. Hooker digs were set side by side with cheap drywall or sometimes only a curtain in between. The business clearly did not require much space or frills in which to operate.

“You’re very good-looking,” she said in Dutch. “And large,” she added, gazing up at him. “Are you as big all over? Because I am not so big down there,” she added, now staring pointedly at his crotch.

“Spreekt u Engels?” Shaw said.

She nodded. “I speak English. It’s thirty euros for twenty minutes. But I’ll do an hour for seventy-five. It’s a special, just for you,” she added matter-of-factly. She handed him a list in Dutch but that was also repeated at the bottom of the page in ten different languages including English, French, Japanese, Chinese, and Arabic. It was entitled, “Things I Will and Won’t Do.”

Shaw passed her back the paper. “Is your friend here?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet him.” He glanced toward the second door.

She appraised him in a different way now. “Yes, he is here.”

She turned and led him to the door set in the back wall. Her exposed butt cheeks, though firm, still quivered slightly as she performed an exaggerated model’s sashay in front of him. He didn’t know if she did that out of habit or because the stilettos were too unstable.