Though Maier had spent years in Southeast Asia, he’d stayed away from the taxi girls. He wasn’t averse to the looks of Asian women, and he’d communed with a few. But for Maier, s*x had to be an explosive exchange, a kind of celebration of body and soul. If the woman wasn’t hot for it, then neither was Maier.
Taxi girls weren’t hot for it.
And when the occasional hotel receptionist or flight attendant had sought to slip between Maier’s sheets, usually she’d done so in the hope of being able to hang on to him. s*x was weapon and tool in Asia, especially as long as so many women couldn’t emancipate themselves. How often had he looked at a Cambodian woman’s behind and then taken the young lady from Bremen or Santa Barbara who’d been drinking at the next table home with him? As a war correspo
