A rainy Sunday slows the world, mellows the mood.

There's a jazz bar in an old Hong Kong house. Upstairs, 1920s Shanghai recreated. Big bands on Saturday nights. Sunday nights reserved for single vocalists - always women, slinky, husky voiced, cheongsam wearing beauties.

Lonely chap, caught in a bind. Memories turned into fantasies. Seeks a diversion.

Mina sends in Tiffany. Straight from a 1960s communist party poster. Perfect complexion, rosy cheeks, perky youthful body. Dismayed at my rejection.

Waits and waits. Water served, listens as Tiffany's charms win her business.

A face appears. Only a face with a tired smile. "Hello" is offered, "I'm Ada."

My eyes must have widened. She parts the curtain and sneaks around the corner. Ada is wearing black. She has walked off that low stage, back in that old Hong Kong house. I can hear her Peggy Lee renditions.

We slink upstairs. No bonhomie, it's a silent walk. The door closes and we regard each other. No smiles, no words, but we communicate. I hand her $150, she backs out. I shower. She returns.

I'm naked. Ada peals off her black dress. No underwear. We still have not spoken another word as we face each other. I am still back in that old Hong Kong house. Ada is that jazz singer.

We come together. We caress and we kiss. Not the frenzied, tense meeting of lips that usually happens in brothels, but a soft, sensing of each other. My mind is filled with conflicting thoughts: "I must remember, I'm in a brothel and I've just paid this woman....and, how can this woman be reading my memories?....and, just enjoy the moment." She senses my troubles and gently pulls away.

She breaks the silence, but her English is poor. She struggles to understand my mandarin, but enough to tell me she is, indeed, from Hong Kong. I tell her about "Ned Kelly's Last Stand." She knows the place.

I realised that, after all these years, I am finally in the secret life of Suzie Wong. The mellow, rainy Sunday, jazz-listening mood was complete.

Ada seemed to understand my reverie. She took me by the hand and laid me down. Then she made love to me. It was probably just her routine, but to me, in that mood, it seems like she was making love.

I'm never going back to see Ada. I don't want a second meeting to break the magic of that rainy, Sunday.