I hate picking up passengers at the Ace of Hearts, no offense to that "erotic" nightclub or its patrons. They seldom talk, and I don't even get them to try. I probably wouldn't want to talk either after having been fucking publicly with a group of people (which I don't really think is a bad thing, just not my thing).

Unfortunately, they always, er, smell like they've been fucking publicly with a group of people. Most vividly. There's been the weasel-faced guy with his wife in blond porn-star wig and trench coat. The young guy with two women 10 years older, half-asleep from exhaustion.

With any fare I check the back seat when people get out to see if they left anything. Doing this from Ace of Hearts induces a certain degree of trepidation. A lube bottle was the best one. I handed it back without comment, only to laugh like hell at their expression once out of earshot.

A notable exception to the talking thing was when I picked up three Navy guys, and man those polyester uniforms held that smell.... I rolled the windows down. This time I couldn't help but ask, "Don't they usually not admit groups of single men?"

"Yeah, but they were running a special for Rose Festival. They handed out cards all along the waterfront." They showed me one. On the back you write your name, and give it to someone you want to "play" with. But oh Christ, when I tried to hand it back, it stuck to my fingers...