The bare essentials

» Kaimuki

Though she was his eternal consort, Bodhicita Guzman had never seen the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa undressed. At least not in this life yet. Thus far their tantalizing tantric canoodling had been fully clothed. But now ...

"I said I don't want to ruin your clothes, dammit, so take 'em off, your uh, lamaness," Fon Du repeated from the driver's seat, waving the Tokarek 9mm. "Now."

The young lama nodded, understanding that the Chinese secret police agent intended to kill them here at Diamond Head Memorial Park.

"Are we trading? Do I get that lovely pink robe you're wearing in exchange?"

The pink velour bathrobe from the Royal Hawaiian Hotel.

If that's what he wanted to die in, it was OK with Fon Du.

"No offense," the lama continued, a smile in his voice, "considering my costume, I think I'm getting the better end of the deal."

He would be giving up the garish chartreuse aloha shirt and the plaid Bermuda shorts.

The lama unbuttoned the shirt, pulled it off, handed it forward between the front seats.

Bodhicita shuddered. She'd seen Lama Jey without a shirt before, that day at Kamasami Khan's house in Kaneohe, playing basketball in the driveway, glistening with sweat. His skin was almost golden, his body so perfect, so beautiful. All she wanted to do was hold him. Well, maybe more than that ...

The pistol in Fon Du's left hand wavered, Bodhicita tensed, prepared to throw herself in front of Jey before he fired.

"The pants too," Fon Du growled. "And hurry it up."

In the dark Bodhicita heard the zipper going down.

"Ow," the lama said. "I'm not used to these things."

"Oh, are you alright?!" Bodhicita said, started to reach, stopped.

"Could have been worse. I'm sorry, Fon Du, I'm having a hard time back here. May I just step outside?"

Fon Du turned, saw the lama struggling to get the pants off in the cramped rear seat. "If it speeds things up, yes. I'll go first."

Fon Du opened the door, stepped down from the driver's seat, pulling the pink robe tighter around him, keeping the pistol pointed at the lama through the window.

Stepping back so they couldn't try the old open-the-door-really-fast-and-knock-the-gun-out-of-his-hand ploy, Fon Du beckoned them to open the door.

The lama stepped outside, wriggled out of the shorts, leaving him in just white BVDs.

"Those too," Fon Du said, untying the robe.

Perched on the edge of the rear seat, facing out the door, Bodhicita couldn't help thinking that, if it weren't for the gun, this would pretty cool.