Sex Tourist Ch. 28-29

"Have you met everyone?" he asked.

"Yes, we are all friends now," said Boxi.

"Good. I need to pop out for a while. Here's some money for drinks, I'll leave you with your new friends."

"How long will you be?" asked Boxi shrilly.

"Uhmmm ... Maybe twenty minutes .... Maybe a bit longer ... You'll be fine with Alma."

Trevor took a trike to Rick's Café and watched a movie, returning almost two hours later. When he re-entered, Boxi and Alma were sitting on the laps of two customers amongst a group of four. Boxi's guy had his arm around her waist, and was stroking her pubis. Someone telegraphed Trevor's arrival, and Boxi turned, and started to rise. He flagged her down and came over, addressing the slightly nervous looking guy beneath her.

"Thanks for keeping Boxi entertained ... let me buy you a drink."

" Ahh ...Well ... Thanks. You're Trevor?"

"Yes."

" I'm Arnold, Al to my friends. You're a lucky guy. Boxi's one hell of a girl."

"Thanks. Can I take a photo."

"No problem, snap away," said Al.

"Let's get Alma in the picture too."

Trevor arranged the group, with Alma facing Boxi, both laid back in grateful laps with their legs raised, and bent in a stagger to display their stockings to the best advantage. He then sat with them to chat for an hour or so, buying and accepting drinks while watching Arnold stroke and fondle Boxi.

Finally, he said, "It's time for us to be getting along."

"OK. I change now," said Boxi.

"First, can I get a photo of you and Alma showing your legs as on the bar sign?"

"Good idea,' said Alma.

He arranged them, laid over a table, facing the camera, with their near legs cocked so their ankles just crossed their rear knee. He took shots from a few angles.

"Can I look?" asked Alma.

He held up the camera, and replayed the shots for she and Boxi.

"Can you send the photos to Grant. I will give you his email," said Alma.

"I'll certainly do that."

Before Boxi had changed back into her street clothes, Alma had brought Grant's email address, written on a sheet of paper.

"I'll send your photos to Grant, and here is my thank-you for taking care of Boxi." He handed her 1000 pesos.

Back at the hotel, both were tired, drowsy with alcohol. Boxi quickly stripped and flopped on the bed. Trevor lay beside her, admiring her body until he fell asleep.

They woke before midnight, and had leisurely sex till they tired, and once more fell asleep, waking again early on Sunday morning. Trevor let Boxi choose the TV channel, and he lay back against the headboard with her torso between his legs, her back against his chest. He placed one hand on the breasts, and the other on the pubis, Al had so recently fondled, breathing in the smell of her hair, enjoying the warmth, scent and texture of her body and savouring the piquant pleasure of sharing her intimate beauty.

It was Sunday, the last day of Boxi's bar-fine, and only one more week until he flew back to Enfield-in-December. He would photograph Boxi in her school uniform today, and pay her bar-fine from Thursday to Sunday next. Monday to Wednesday would see him qualify for his light sports aircraft certificate, and he would also be free to butterfly.

But what about Allyza? What could he do?

After a swim and breakfast by the pool, they returned to his room. Boxi changed into the school uniform, and Trevor took a long sequence of photos as she was transformed from, coy schoolgirl, into, predatory, stocking-clad vamp. They had sex, and bar-hopped, ending the evening in Niftys. Trevor paid Boxi's bar-fine from Thursday to Sunday.

Back at the hotel they had sex before and after sleep, and on Monday morning Trevor took her to McDonalds for breakfast, before dropping her off, with a big tip, at her house.

On the way to the flying club he composed a text to Allyza. It took some time as he changed his mind and made amendments. Finally he read:

'Hi. U know I luv n miss u. I go home Sun. I lik 2 c u 1 more time. I still like 2 b ur frend n keep n touch.'

He pressed 'Send.'

At the flying club the news was good. Tomorrow, he could take his test, and if all went well, his flying certificate would be issued. He returned to his hotel to spend the evening studying his manual. Mid-evening, he received a text.

'I know but u like many grls not 1 grl 2 mary maybe I do not love with Tony but he want 1 girl only 2 mary'

'...I do not love with Tony...' These words gave Trevor a flicker of hope, which was quickly extinguished, 'but he want 1 girl only 2 mary...' That was the clincher. He knew the girls, above all things, wanted a husband to transform their lives and that of their family. That was why they allowed themselves to be seen on the arms of unexceptional old men like himself. He could not offer himself as that prize, not yet ... and, for now, could aspire to be nothing more than a customer.

He would do the decent thing, and let Allyza pursue her happiness without complicating her life.

On Tuesday, he received his light aircraft sports flying certificate.

That evening, he ate at Margarita Station, then walked down to Camelot to start his bar-hop. The bars seemed subdued, perhaps because it was a Tuesday, not a big partying night. He bought a few ladies drinks, but none of the girls stood comparison to Allyza or Boxi, or even Honey, who were now his benchmark for personality and beauty. As he consumed more beer, his vision narrowed, his speech slowed, his gait became unsteady and his judgement unsure.

When passing La Bamba, the door girls pounced, seizing his arms, imploring him to enter and drawing him in. Half hoping he would see Allyza on stage, he allowed himself to be propelled through the curtains into the dim interior. As a waitress ushered him to a seat, he searched the stage but, as he knew would be the case, she was not there. He sat alone, disappointed and stupefied, sipping yet another beer.

A hand came to rest on his right knee. "Hi Trevor. Why you look so sad?"

It was Regine. And Regine was Allyza's friend.

"Oh ... hello Regine ... you're back from your trip. How are you? Would you like a drink?"

Regine insinuated herself beside him and ordered a Margarita. She told him about her Italian customer who had taken her to Puerta Princessa and El Nido, and who had promised to collect her on his next diving trip. Then they sat in silence for a while, she knowing he wanted news of Allyza, but was reluctant to sound so needy. He craved to know where she was, and who she was with, and eventually the location and the closeness of her friend overwhelmed his better judgement.

"Have you seen Allyza recently?"

"Yes ... I see her." She was cautious.

"I hope she is happy with her new friend."

"Yes, she is happy now. But why do you not like to marry with her?"

"The main thing is, she is happy."

"Yes. You always make her cry, because she love you, but you do not love her."

"Welll ... her new friend will give her what she wants."

"Anyway, you have a new girlfriend now," said Regine.

"No. What makes you think that?"

"Oh Allyza tell me, you have a new girlfriend, a very sexy girl."

"No. No. I don't have a girlfriend, just bar-fines."

"But you don't like bar-fine tonight."

It may have been meant as a rhetorical question, but to Trevor it sounded like the familiar bar-girl solicitation.

"Oh yes, ... a bar-fine every night." He unpeeled some notes. "Here, pay Mama-San and we'll go bar-hopping."

Regine was startled. "But what about Allyza? She is my friend."

"Allyza? I'm not Allyza's customer any more. She has a boyfriend she's going to marry. It's over between me and Allyza. I'm not her boyfriend and I'm not her customer. I'm available."

Regine briefly conferred with Mama-San, then returned, "OK, I come with you. I change now."

After stopping at a few bars on Perimeter Road, they arrived back at the hotel. Trevor was tired and over intoxicated. He realised that he'd bar-fined Regine simply because being close to her made him feel close to Allyza. But, naked, she had little to compare with Allyza. Regine had a pleasant face, Allyza's was vivacious, Regine's body, rounded and soft, Allyza's lean and muscular. Regine's manner was compliant and submissive, Allyza's provocative and enthusiastic.

Regine allowed herself to be arranged for his convenience, sighing faintly when he pulled her crotch to his face to inflict oral pleasure, and panting rhythmically as his thrusting pelvis set the skin on her buttocks and belly quivering.

These comparisons dulled his ardour and he brought himself quickly to a climax. He wriggled up over her body in time to ejaculate over her face, his semen lodging in her left nostril, then laying in a streak up the side of her nose and across her upper eyelash. Regine screwed up her face, and reached for the towel.

"Wait!" cried Trevor, "I want a photo."

Her decorated face, reminded him of the photos of Kim her boyfriend posted on the forum.

Regine halted. "Why you want a photo?"

Trevor scrambled for his camera. "Because you look so sexy. I want a remembrance. Lay back on the bed."

Trevor adjusted her, and raised her chin to stabilise his liquidising seed. It ran into her nostril, and as she exhaled her nostril inflated a bubble.

"Hold that. Stay absolutely still."

Having taken the shots, he tossed Regine the towel. She pressed it to her face and ran into the shower. Face cleaned, she returned and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Can I see your photos."

"Of course." Trevor entered playback mode and handed the camera to Regine.

"Just press these buttons to move back and forward."

When he returned from the shower, Regine was still sitting on the bed, scrolling.

"She is very sexy ... your new girlfriend."

" Oh ... You've been looking at all my photos. She's not my girlfriend."

"You take many photos of her for remembrance."

"I'm making a photo story, so I need lots of photos."

"A photo story? What you do with a photo story?"

"I share it on the internet with some friends who like Filipina girls as much as I do."

"Internet! ... Will you share my photo? ... I do not like you to share my photo."

"OK. If you don't want me to. But it's a very sexy photo. Only guys, who like Filipina girls, will see it."

"No. I don't like."

Trevor slept late, lingering in bed while his body metabolised the alcohol, and only rose when he could no longer suppress the need quench his dry mouth with water. Regine, who had lain motionless beside him, stirred.

"I've got a bugger of a hangover," he told her in polite dismissal. "I won't be very good company. You can go when you've showered."

He gave her 500p tip. As she left she pecked him on the cheek.

"Promise you do not put my photo on the internet."

"Promise."

Trevor lay back on his bed, relieved, feeling as though he had flown too close to the sun but had now returned unharmed. At dusk he rose, and deciding that he needed some fallow time following the previous night's alcoholic excess, took a trike to Rick's café to eat, and quietly watch a movie. Leaving at about nine in the evening, he walked up Fields Avenue, intending to find a bar to hole-up in, but, in his subdued mood, passed them one by one, until he reached Perimeter Road. Just one visit to a bar and then back to my hotel, he told himself, but no bar appealed, and he found himself walking straight back to the hotel.