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A couple of months ago, an old friend of mine, Christopher V. from Boston, came down to Trinidad for what he called ‘rest and relaxation”.  

We had worked together at a company for a long time, we socialized together and we had become really good friends.   He was single at the time, later he would get married and settle down.  He had recently become single again, his wife died in a tragic car accident eight months ago. 

I met him at the airport and you would not know from his demeanor that he was still carrying memories of his wife with him.  I learned later that it had really taken a toll on him.  

I knew as soon as he had told me on the phone what had happened and that he was looking for somewhere where he could see different things and have different experiences; he wanted to forget. 

When I say him at the airport he had a grin from ear to ear with a large toothy smile.  “Puck” he shouted. “How the hell have you been”?  Grabbing my hands and pulling my body to his in a great bear hug.  He really took me by surprise.  Here I was thinking I would have to be a nurse maid to a grown man because he lost his wife and he looked happier than me.

For the few days that he spent here we had a blast, visiting many national historical sites as we could and hanging out at night.  It is the hanging out at night that prompted me to write this piece.  After a couple of nights checking out a concert and visiting the most popular night clubs in Port of Spain he asked me.  “Hey, Puck” he asked, “You know where we can get some women?”. 

“I don’t think you asking me, what I just heard you say”.   

He knows he knew that back in Boston we would never do anything like that.  We thought alike when it came to women, if we could not charm you with our good looks and suave personality, then you just belonged somewhere else.  We would never ever even consider paying for female entertainment.  And, while that was racing through my mind, I’m thinking that life really changes people, some of the things they felt was so important at one point is no longer important. 

He had suffered a great loss and I could not deny my friend what he wanted.  I knew one thing though; I was not taking him on the streets, Port of Spain, St James or anywhere else where I had heard that three were street walkers.  Prostitution is illegal in Trinidad and Tobago; in fact it is illegal in most countries, even in the US. 

Chris had changed but I was still the same, I’m married now and it would take a huge change for me to ever consider looking outside for any sort of gratification.  But I was not going to let that stand in the way of my best friend in a previous life time getting what he asked for, within reason.   His request was within reason.

“OK” I said, "where will we start to look". 

“You have no friends you can ask?” he suggested.

“Sure do” I called my friend Jack.  He was busy, too busy to accompany us, (I didn't want him to either because he drinks too much).   I ask that he just point me in the direction.  He said he knew of places in San Fernando, San Juan, Barataria and two in St James.  

“Whoa” I said, “We don’t need all those, which one you would go to if money was not a problem?”

”Well”, he quickly responded, “I would go down South; they have the baddest places down there.  Pretty women and they come with options”     

“Nothing in Port of Spain, I really don’t feel that long drive down South?” I objected.  

“Well,” he said, “you can go to a place in St James, real hot women, but it’s not better than down South”. 

“No problem”, I answered.  While thinking it really did not matter, I just did not want to drive to the South because the drive was long.

There are too many crazy drivers on the death highway late at night. The only highway law enforcement you will ever see on the road at that time are the ones cleaning up after an accident.  I took the directions to a place in St James.

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Right after speaking to him, I jumped on my PC to search.   I goggled “exotic massage parlor in Trinidad and Tobago”.









 On the first page;   one possibility loomed with three spots on the first page.  It was called the Executive Honey Comb.

It was labeled as the “#1Massage Center in Trinidad”, opening 24 hours a day.  That’s the place Jack had mentioned. Wrote down the details and continued searching.

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