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Renee looked around women in uniform sex. Her heart plummeted. It was hopeless. There wasn't a man in the place she'd trust to hold her purse, much less protect her. She turned to go, then realized Fran had started off on her own.

Fran slid onto a stool at the bar next to a burly sailor wearing a string of hash marks down his sleeve.

Renee grabbed Fran's arm and tugged her off the stool before she could get set. The sailor had turned and was looking them both over appreciatively. Renee kept her head turned away, just so he wouldn't get the wrong idea and make something out of a stray glance.

"Well, it's what you want, isn't it? Fran complained. She flashed the sailor a smile and followed Renee outside.

"I did not want rape a sailor!"

"Why not?" Fran pouted. "I thought he was cute. And I'll bet he's tough as leather."

"Because he's a sailor. That's why. We need protection--- not a boards party."

"Maybe that's what you need," Fran shot back.

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Renee ignored the jibe and walked away, leaving Fran to make up her mind whether to follow or not as she wanted to do. What Fran said had hit a nerve, even if she didn't show it. It could well be that what was bothering her was more than just a desire to be safe.

Angry, Renee pushed the thought away. It didn't change her mind. No sailors. And that was that!

Renee pushed the first door she came to and sighed with relief. The sign said "Capri Bar," but it was really a music bar. At one end, water splashed down a cement waterfall. The bar had a few solitary figures sitting at the bar. There were no whores.

Making a snap decision, Renee sat down next to a man near the end of the bar. He was wearing a suit and looked around thirty. Pleasant, but heavily built. He didn't look up when she sat down.

"Excuse me," she said timidly. "But I don't know any Spanish. How do you order a drink here?"

"Try English." The man's voice wasn't exactly encouraging. But Fran was standing gesturing at her wrist, trying to indicate urgency.

Fran's display of impatience made Renee's mind up for her and she decided to drop the facade and phony buildup she planned.

"Look," she said. "You're an American, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately!" The answer was dryly ironic.