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Ya gotta watch out, tho—some of ‘em are crafty. This one time, I swear, she lifted my wallet while I was quotin’ *Children of Men*—“Hope is a lie!”—and I didn’t even notice ‘til I went to pay. Surprised the hell outta me, her nimble fingers. I didn’t eat her liver, nah, too much respect for the game. But I did think, damn, she’d survive Cuarón’s fucked-up world.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Blendecques.

The neighborhoods? Oh, man. Old town’s a labyrinth of crooked alleys and hideouts. Ever heard of Rue des Fleurs? Sounds sweet, but it’s a den of secret trysts and whispered scandals. One night, I followed a trail of laughter and stumbled upon a clandestine meet-up. I stood there, thinkin’ "Hey, that's just like that scene in Inherent Vice, ain’t it?" like a cult scene at a drug-fueled protest.

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