Sex Tourist Ch. 11-12

As they moved on, Analyn said, "You come back later and bar-fine with me and Boxi. We will give you a show and you can boom-boom her ass."

"I'll consider that offer."

Trevor kissed her at the steps to the exit, and they parted. As he walked up he glanced back before he disappeared through the door curtain. Analyn already had her hanger blouse on and dress rolled down, and was walking up to a customer, sitting alone, who was greeting her enthusiastically.

On emerging into the street, Trevor felt pumped up. He had enjoyed the interlude in Niftys, and was elated that he had achieved his first blow-job. He enjoyed it, and hoped it would be the first of many. The last thing on his mind was STDs or safe-sex.

Turning left on Perimeter he proceeded up, past a couple of bars, crossed the next road and walked on. Then, on his left, were three bars in a row. In a corner, sandwiched between Honey Kos, and the wall of the adjacent building was Thi-Hi. The sign, featuring a long stockinged leg with suspender exposed, intrigued him.

He entered. There were no dancers. At the rear, on the left, was a bar, and around the floor was plenty of seating, at high and low tables, and plenty of hostesses in revealing, short skirts, with stocking tops and suspenders on view. Trevor chose a stool at a high table and a waitress came to take his order and invite him to choose company.

He looked around at faces turned expectantly towards him, and indicated two girls. She summoned them in a practised manner and they immediately stood and walked over, smiling, switched on, to greet him.

Their drinks were ordered, and Trevor quickly forestalled the preliminaries,

"I'm Trevor. I'm from England, just here for a few days and staying at Sunset Garden. I'm divorced, all my kids are grown up and I'm available."

The girls laughed.

"What you like to talk about?" the shorter one asked.

She was about twenty-seven and dark and pretty, maybe a few pounds over-weight, but in a soft and comfortable way.

"Tell me about yourselves. I'm a good listener," said Trevor.

"She is Pinky. I am Roseann."

The taller girl, though no more than about 5ft 3in, had a resonant voice, as though her throat had experienced too much smoke and spirits. She was slightly older, perhaps thirty, and very neat, with a muscular figure and an elegant, high-cheeked, face.

"And, where are you girls from?"

"I am from Catbalogan in Samar, and Roseann is from Tacloban in Leyte."

"I don't know the geography of the Philippines," said Trevor, "Is that far away."

"It is about one day in the bus to Catbalogan. Tacloban is further. It is a long way."

"What brings you here, to Angeles."

"To support our families. I have two kids, but my husband is gone, and there is no work in Samar."

"Me also, I have five kids and I cannot get work in Tacloban, but here a friend can find me work."

"Are your kids here with you?"

Trevor was beginning to regret being too curious. These were sad stories, not conducive to a good time.

"Our kids are at home with our parents. We send them money for support," said Pinky.

"When do you see them?"

"Sometimes twice a year. When we have save enough, then we can go home."

Roseann sounded sad.

Trevor decided to change the topic.

"Why are there no dancing girls?"

"There has never been in Thi-Hi. It is for conversation. Here, the music is not too loud, and the ladies drinks are cheap, so you can have company with two girls or three girls. It is for when you get tired of the other bars," said Pinky.

As the conversation turned to other matters, Trevor noticed a girl at the bar. She was naked, except for shoes, stockings and suspender belt.

Roseann followed his gaze.

"That is Alma. She is wild again. She has her boyfriend in this afternoon and now she is drunk."

Alma was voluptuous, but her figure was tight, and her black hair was voluminous and spilled down to the middle of her back. Between her legs was a black furry diamond. Roseann called to her and she sauntered nonchalantly over.

"This is Trevor, he like your look."

"Buy me a drink?" Alma asked Trevor.

"Of course," he replied.

Alma called to the waitress then looked at Trevor, held up her arms, and pirouetted, "Now you can look."

She mounted the stool opposite him and sat.

"So, your boyfriend has been in today?"

Trevor was curious who this might be.

"Yes. He has gone bar-hop now, but he will come back for me later."

"Are you bar-fined?"

"Yes. For two weeks."

"Won't he mind you like this," asked Trevor.

The girls all laughed.

"Of course, he like me like this."

"Every day he bring her in so she can get like this," said Pinky, "he enjoy her like this."

"I can understand that. I enjoy you like that."

"Where are you from?" Alma asked, and on being told, added, "Oh. Grant is from Canada."

A four way conversation developed between Trevor and the girls, and he learned a lot about them and their lives by listening to their exchanges. Compared to Alma, Pinky and Roseann were demure. Alma's conversation was racy, and although she based herself at Trevor's table, she would exchange words with girls sat elsewhere, and from time to time, shoot off, stark naked, to other parts of the bar, on some brief item of business.

Eventually, she stood and greeted someone who entered behind Trevor. She waved him over, and introduced him.

"This is my boyfriend, Grant. This is Trevor; he is keeping me and my friends company."

Grant offered his hand. He was a short, wiry guy with cropped grey hair and a thin face, dressed in a regular shirt with rolled up sleeves and a leather belt securing grey slacks at his narrow waist. Trevor took his hand.

"Hi Trevor, thanks for taking care of Alma."

"Hi Grant. It's been my pleasure. She's a gorgeous girl, I've enjoyed her company."

"She's the best. But it's time for home."

"We go eat first?" asked Alma.

"Sure, we'll get something to eat. Now get changed." Alma scampered off, buttocks bobbing charmingly.

"Let me get in some drinks," said Grant, settling onto a stool.

Trevor counter offered, but accepted at Grant's insistence. As they waited for Alma, Grant described his admiration for her.

"Will you be keeping in touch after your holiday," asked Trevor, keen to know more about their relationship.

"Sure. I've known Alma two years. She's my favourite girl. I take her out every time I come here. I don't bother looking for other girls. Just bar-fine her out for my holiday."

"You thinking of taking her back to Canada?"

"That wouldn't work. I couldn't take her in a bar and have her get naked. It wouldn't be the same. In two years I can retire. I'll come to live here, and if we're still getting on, we can see what we can work out."

Alma reappeared in red T-shirt tucked into tight, blue-jean shorts. Her figure pressed against the cotton, filling it impressively.

Grant slipped out of his seat and Alma took his arm. They said their goodbye's and Trevor looked over his shoulder to watch the silhouettes of the small, pneumatic girl on the arm of the stooped stick-like man, pass from the darkness of the bar to the dim brightness of the street lights.

Trevor reflected that Grant was happy with his girl, and he wished to be happy with his own. His thoughts turned to Allyza, and he could not stand the uncertainty of the wait until Monday. He decided to make his way to La Bamba.

By eight-o'clock he was there.

Regine came over. "Allyza is not here tonight," she told him.

"Are you still ON for my birthday on Monday?" he asked.

"I will be there," she reassured.

He did not buy her a drink, but quickly finished his own, and set off up Fields to look in on a club he had seen festooned, and offering free food. It was called Brown Sugar, and was opening that day. On entering, there was no seating available so he changed plan.

Out on Fields he hailed a trike, and made his way back to Niftys in search of consolation.