Sex Tourist Ch. 06
A diminutive waitress in T-shirt and shorts took their order. Jake and Evan enthused over the Thai curry; Trevor took their advice. Soon, he was gulping down chilled beer to cool his burning mouth. Jake and Evan knowledgeably appraised the passing girls, who in turn cast sly glimpses at the array of potential clients seated at Kokomo's wall, seeking an inviting face.
Jake's eyes met those of one girl, walking arm in arm with a friend, and they locked, "Hey, you're cute. Come over here," he called.
She and her companion, veered over towards the wall.
"Where're you girls off to?"
"We go to work now," one replied to Jake.
Her friend first sought Trevor's eyes then, when he looked away, Evan's. The girls were pretty and coquettish.
"Where's work?" asked Jake.
"Top Hat."
"Dancer or waitress?"
"We are dancers, me and my cousin."
"Can I get you girls a drink before work?"
"We start in twenty minutes," Jake was told.
"Come and have a chat, maybe we can walk down with you."
The girls walked around, into Kokomo's. The one who had been talking came right up next to Jake and he passed his arm around her. Her cousin stood back a little looking from Trevor to Evan. Evan slapped his thigh and nodded at her, and she walked up and clasped his waist. Names were exchanged, drinks ordered, and the girls smiled and fawned on their prospective beau's.
Jake and Evan were large, middle aged, in disrepair, loud and presumptive, hugging and stroking the youthful - no more than twenty - elegant, diminutive girls, who returned their caresses enthusiastically. Jake drew his captive's head towards him, and whispered in her ear; she nodded; he whispered a couple more times, on each occasion she nodded.
"OK. I'm gonna pay your bar-fine and we can go bar-hop," announced Jake.
"Me and my cousin, we are a team," the girl said, looking at Evan.
Evan pulled his girl to him, and a second intimate conversation took place, the girl again nodding enthusiastically.
"OK, We're fine," confirmed Evan.
One of the girls flagged another, passing in the street, "Tell Mama, me and my cousin are bar-fine. We will come in later to pay."
Now that that was settled, Jake remembered Trevor.
"We're gonna go down to Top Hat and settle up, maybe have a few beers, then go bar-hop. You're welcome to come with us. Unlucky there was only two of them, but there's plenty more to choose from, but choose early on a Friday, or only the dogs'll be left."
Trevor, burning on the outside, burning on the inside, with his senses blurred by alcohol, and aroused by the upbeat music coming from all quarters, no longer wished for an early night. This was the first time in years he had been out, drinking with companions on a Friday night - never mind picking up girls. Yes, he knew what the girls were, but they were young, beautiful and available, and that yearning, so long suppressed, had resurfaced. He wanted to be a part of the action. He, however, did not want to be a gooseberry, and felt uncomfortable with the instant, public intimacy struck up between his companions and their pick-ups.
"You guy's have a good time. I'll catch you tomorrow," he said, "I'm going to take a walk up the road, look in a few clubs, and have a few beers."
He called the waitress and settled up. With shakes of the hand, and best wishes all round, he parted and headed up what he now knew was called Fields Avenue. After dark, it was much cooler, though still humid, but pleasantly warm. Trevor walked slowly, taking in the raucous street-scene.
Nearly every roadside premises appeared to be a bar, and at the door of each stood a group of girls, calling and cajoling, some taking passers-by by the arm and attempting to pull them inside. It was all new, and confused by the number and similarity, he failed to choose, and continued upward. Then he saw Roadhouse. That name he knew. 'Great bar. Great girls,' Jake had said, and the two nymphs who had left the swimming pool a few hours earlier were a testimony to the later assertion.
He entered, passing through a door, then through a curtain into the twilight interior pulsing with rock music. To the left, on a stage, a line up of dainty Filipinas in brightly fluorescing white bikinis, with cute garters on their right leg, and white, skirted ankle-socks under red, low-heeled, shoes, shuffled synchronously to the music. Their high-hip bikinis were kept high by an elasticated, red suspender passing from one hip, up around the back of their neck and descending to the other hip. The dry, cool, air-conditioned atmosphere brought a refreshing sense of comfort, though the odour of stale cigarette smoke lent a rank edge to the atmosphere.
A waitress attired in a black dress appeared before him and pointed to available seats. He took a seat to the right, high up against the wall, which provided a good view of the girls. The waitress offered him a drinks menu. Red wine was available, which he thought would make a nice change from the gassy beer. After ordering, he sat back to look around and take in a girly bar.
In front of the stage, which ran three quarters of the way down the wall facing him, was a row of stools on which sat several guys interacting with some of the girls, who welcomed the distraction, but still tried to keep step with the others dancers. Behind the stools was a clearway through which people could come and go. Beyond the clearway were floating bars, at which people sat on stools. From there, in two ascending levels, were tables at which customers could sit on bench seats facing the stage.
Besides customers sitting alone, with friends, or with girls, the seats were dressed by dancers in their cutesy outfits, waiting their turn on stage.
Trevor sat at the highest level, furthest back from the stage, enjoying the view. As he looked around, eyes sought his. Dark, pretty eyes, in tanned, snub-nosed faces, below which the inviting curves of their voluptuous brown bodies, wrapped in the fluorescent white bikinis, were picked out like neon lights.
The waitress placed two glasses of red wine and a plate of nibbles before him.
"I only ordered a glass of wine," he protested mildly, suspecting some sort of, clip-joint rip-off.
"It is two-for-one, Sir. We have Happy-Hour until eight-o'clock. The finger-food is complimentary. You pay for one glass of wine only."
He sipped the wine and ran it round his tongue. It was rough, dry and sharp, with a bitter after taste, but full-bodied, as full-bodied as the lovely girls seeking his eyes across the twilight of the bar. Soon, his face glowed, not now from overexposure to the sun, but from the blood loaded capillaries in his skin, dilated by alcohol. He started on his second glass.
A pair of eyes across the floor fenced briefly with his, rose, and moved towards him. He thought the eyes were fixed on him, but he was unsure. But, step by step, she came in his direction, then up the bank of seats, till she was next to him.
Turning, she dropped onto the seat beside him. She looked directly into his eyes, then spoke - in that gentle, sing-song, Filipina accent - barely audible above the music, "Hello. You stay in Tropicana? Correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Oh! You do not remember me. It was me with Jake in the swimming pool today."
"Of course," Trevor un-frowned in recognition, "My eyes are useless in the dark. So ... this is where you work?"
"Yes ... here," she said, "Is Jake coming in tonight?"
"Not tonight, he has some business I believe."
"I know. Some monkey business," she pouted.
The waitress appeared, "Do you want to buy the girl a drink?"
Politely, Trevor asked the girl if she would like a drink. Some words in Tagalog were exchanged.
"Sir, we are near the end of Happy-Hour; do you like one more drink for yourself," the waitress prompted.
Seeing his glass near-empty, Trevor agreed.
A few minutes later, two more fully-charged glasses of red wine were on his table, and a Margarita for the girl, whose name Trevor had established was Jolina.
Jolina turned towards Trevor, allowing her crossed leg to swing around and brush against his, leaned forwards, said, "Thank you," raised her glass, and clinked it against his.
Touching it to her lips, she turned her head back and sipped from it, arching her back and pushing the curves of her plump breasts toward him. As she hoped, his eyes broke away from her steady gaze and lingered admiringly over her proffered bosom.
"Do you have a girl for tonight?" she asked.
"No. This is my first day in town."
Trevor could see which way the conversation was going.
She tilted her head forward and screwing her eyes in mock supplication, "I am lonely. Can I be your company tonight?"
Trevor wavered, he had seen her in the pool, he had seen her in her street clothes, he would love to walk down the street with her, to take her into the swimming pool - but he was new to this. What would happen if he was with her and bumped into Jake in the hotel? Trevor prevaricated, and she continued to press suggestively. Then the bell rang.
"I must go and dance now."
As she stepped down to the floor, she looked back at him and waved. A minute later she was on the stage, in line, doing the synchronised shuffle.
The wine was heady and Trevor, now drunk, resolved to bar-fine Jolina as soon as she finished dancing. He nursed his wine, waiting to buy another round with her. After twenty minutes the bell sounded again and Jolina exited the stage and paraded through the bar with the other girls. As she got half way down the floor, an arm reached out from a stool and a middle-aged gentleman scooped her up into his lap. There was some wriggling and laughing, and the waitress came over. Jolina left and went into the rear. As Trevor finished his wine, Jolina emerged again, in street clothes, collected the gentleman, and they walked, arm-in-arm, out of the bar.
Trevor paid his tab and left.
Jake had warned him that the line can get very picked over if you wait too late on a Friday night. Now he was in no doubt that here in Angeles City it was, first-come first-served.
He wandered back down Field's Avenue, slightly unsteady on his feet, his vision narrowed, no longer aware of the discomfort of his sunburnt skin. All around there was loud music and laughter, and the sound of enjoyment unconfined. Across the road a large neon butterfly caught his inebriated fancy and he swang towards it.
Through the door he found the dance floor at ground level in the corner to his right, and the seating arranged radially back from the dance floor. There was an unoccupied table to the rear where he sat and was served with a San Miguel Light in insulated wrap. A napkin was twisted around the opening of the bottle.
"What's the napkin for?" Trevor asked the waitress.
She pulled it out and wiped around the opening of the bottle, "Just in case, Sir."
Trevor decided the beer would taste better if he did not know - just in case of what?
He immersed himself in the rock music. For the first time in many years music had moved him. He relaxed and looked over the girls, now he wanted a girl. Jolina had caused hormones to be released into his alcohol charged blood, and his penis bulged, semi-tumescent, in his pants. Painfully, he now compared each girl to Jolina, but none had those pouting lips and inviting curves in quite that killer combination.
A Filipina woman of about fifty approached him.
His blood ran cold, and he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to pass up Jolina.
"Hi. I am Mama-San Teresa; I do not see you here before."
Relieved, Trevor said, "No. This is my first night in Angeles."
"Welcome to Angeles," she waved at the dance floor, "Pick your girl."
"Just window-shopping tonight," he replied evasively.
Mama-San Teresa leaned towards him and spoke confidentially, "If you come to me, I will get you the right girl. Whatever your pleasure, I can get the girl for you."
"Thank you. I'll remember that."
He was sure his speech was slightly slurred.
"Do you see the girl in the silver boots?"
She nodded in the direction of a girl on stage, and Trevor followed her gaze. The girl, seeing she was being noticed, stepped forward, pulled herself erect and smiled towards them.
"My customer always recommend her. She is a very, very good girl for a bar-fine ... a very nice blow-job ... and she enjoy to let you in the back-door. No problem."
He was surprised to hear such activities discussed, let alone have them hawked to him. Trevor examined the girl with more interest. He was not interested in bar-fining her, simply looking to see how she differed from the others, but she differed in no material respect. She was pretty enough, with a nice body and nice smile. Back in London, he could not dream that she would kiss him, but here, for 700 pesos, he could enjoy her in ways he had never enjoyed a girl before, and never expected to. Tonight, he would have passed up such exotic pleasures just to lay with the beautiful Jolina, and enjoy her in simple and straight forward intercourse.
"Very pretty. Maybe another night," Trevor said.
"Just don't forget ... I can always get the right girl for you." Mama-San Teresa, then drifted away.
The girl, seeing she was not required, subsided back into the throng of dancers.
Trevor finished his drink, and left.
rn"
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