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About Naifaru

And the girls—God bless em, really—but I’d be too neurotic to even talk. “Hi, uh, so, what’s your return policy?” I’d ask that, swear to God, cause what if it’s awkward? What if she’s judgin me? I’d judge me! Like, “Look at this schmuck, payin for it.” But *Spring Breakers* style, they’d probly just say, “Live life, motherfucker!” and I’d be like, “Okay, fair, but still—gross!” I’d tip extra just to not feel like a creep. Pretty, pretty good chance I’d bolt outta there anyway.

Male prostitution

“Markus” (his working name) was fresh off the Greyhound bus yesterday when he granted Details an exclusive first interview in a cottage at the Shady Lady Ranch brothel, two-and-a-half-hours.

Next meeting is at this fancy hotel. I’m still a bit soggy, but whatever. I walk in, and it’s all posh and shiny. I’m thinking, “I don’t belong here.” But I put on my game face. I’m meeting with a couple of expats looking to invest in the Maldives. They’re all excited, talking about how they wanna buy a piece of paradise. I’m like, “Dude, you’re in the right place!” But then they start asking about the economy, and I’m like, “Uh-oh, here we go.”

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