Chapter 7. 'Lewd Lottery.'
Opportunities to earn. Bar lore. B.O.W (Bunch of Wankers) meet. Amor becomes the prize. Danny. Jordan.
Precious had a flypaper quality that made customers stick to her on contact. She was more mature, more motherly in her manner than the others, who behaved like the teenage girls they were and were treated accordingly by the customers. Precious, on the other hand, would treat her customers like infants in her care, allowing them to lie back and relax while she would coo and fuss and organise, and take control of all their needs, just like Mum. But, unlike Mum, when she put her customer to bed, after kissing him goodnight, she would climb into bed and fuck him to sleep. Before ten-pm she was again waving goodbye and leaving with a customer.
About this time, Amor began to emerge from her shell, dancing topless and lewdly for the benefit of a group of customers in an advanced state of inebriation, who egged her to further extremes. They called her for a ladies drink, bounced and groped and fingered her, and gleefully lined up drinks. Eventually, one paid her bar-fine, and they left to bar hop. Blen worked assiduously as a headline girl, catching two blow-jobs through her own endeavours, one being Luke, who complimented her on her developing technique. Girlie had a quiet night.
On returning to the lady-house they wondered at Precious's magnetism and worried over Amor. Blen was pleased that Amor was bar-fined, but disconcerted by her uncharacteristically forward behaviour. Anabel told them that Amor had asked her for some shabu, and she had arranged for her to buy some on credit, which she intended to pay off from her tip. Blen was confused, not able to settle in her mind whether it was a good thing or bad. Girlie was not concerned by the shabu, but by Amor's, frankly, crude behaviour.
Amor returned at about three-pm the following day. She could remember setting out bar-hopping, and then nothing until she was awakened by her customer in his hotel room at about one in the afternoon. He had fucked her and taken her for breakfast with his friends, who had all greeted her with great familiarity, after which he thanked her for an outstanding evening, gave her 300p and bade her goodbye. On leaving the hotel, having no idea where she was she had to take a trike back to the lady-house.
Precious did not return to the lady-house at all. Mid-evening, she entered Talent Spot leading a man of about fifty-five, with profuse silver hair swept back like Elvis, and came and sat with Blen and Amor. When Precious introduced her friends, Darren amiably ordered drinks for everyone. Mama came over to glad-hand the customer, and ask if Precious was treating him well. He confirmed he was very happy with her, and said they would spend a few days together. Mama said he could settle with the waitress, and before she wandered off asked Amor to speak to her after her next set.
Blen accompanied Amor to see Mama.
"I'm happy you develop a stage presence. It just take a little time, but be careful not to go beyond sexy ... lewd can be trouble ... I know the customers like it, ... but we do not want the Talent Spot to attract the attention of the inspectors. Now, I want to speak to you about an opportunity that would suit you, and we will not have to worry about inspectors. First, are you a cherry-butt?"
Amor was a little startled. "Yes Mama," she confirmed.
"Good. Bend down and touch your toes with your feet apart."
Amor glanced enquiringly at Blen then leaned forward.
"I'm just going to spread your cheeks and look at your butt rose." Mama prised aside her thong and spread Amor's cheeks to disclose her pristine anus. "Keep still, I insert only a finger." She pushed a forefinger slowly into Amor's ass, and her sphincter clung tightly to it. "I finish ... your ass is good ... you can stand up ... Here is an opportunity for you to earn 5000p."
"How is that? What is it to do with my cherry-butt?"
"All customers have an interest special to them, little fetish that some wife and girlfriends will not entertain, that is a business opportunity for us," explained Mama. "It is all harmless, but it give them great happiness. Some are obsess with the ladies ass. We provide happiness for these also. One time a month, on a Sunday afternoon, a club with this interest, they call themselves The Masters of Uranus, meet at the Old Bore pension house. It is formal. They have ceremonies and rituals to give structure and purpose to their meet, and, very important, to make last and increase their excitement and make them ready for a party. Remember always, sex is ninety-per-cent in the mind, and we will provide sex for the mind as also sex for the body. We have some experience girls who will do a show, but what they enjoy to see is a new girl. Their favourite is to see a cherry-ass girl have her ass-cherry popped. It is silly, but it is all in their mind, and they pay well for their thrill. This is where you come in. You have just the right look, you have a cherry-ass, you would suit well."
"But, what will happen?" asked Amor.
"I will lead you. I will dress you in a nice costume and you do as I say. The Masters have their fantasy that you are their prisoner, and at their mercy to enjoy how they like. I will give you to them and they will tie you. You will be tied on a chair with your ass exposed. Then there is their ritual. The Master will relax your ass. He is very experience, and he will make it pleasurable for you. Then, when he think you are ready, one Master will pop your ass-cherry."
"I do not think I like it." Amor was reluctant. She turned to Blen. "What do you think?"
Blen hesitated. "The pay is good."
"But, do you like to do it?"
Blen paused again, then spoke decisively, keen to encourage her friend to resolve her credit. "Yes, of course I like to do it. You will be satisfaction guaranteed now anyway. We all will be soon, so I will do it now."
"Well, OK ... I must try it then." Amor was resigned rather than content.
Mama addressed Blen. "That is good, Blen, you have the correct attitude. I will offer you for their cherry-ass next month."
Blen's mouth fell open and her eyes batted as she sputtered. "But what about my cherry? I do not go bar-fine."
"That is not a problem. In five weeks, if you still have your cherry-pussy, it will not interfere with this, their interest is the ass. It is just another opportunity to earn."
Mama turned back to Amor. "And you will also find that customers will offer a big tip for this service."
As they re-entered the bar, feeling control of her life slipping from her, Blen remarked to Amor, "I just want to meet a nice guy."
Amor nodded. "Why cannot we be like Precious?"
That night, before she fell asleep, Blen asked herself, If that little ceremony pay 5000p, what will 30,000p require?
By their third week, the girls felt comfortably at home in the nightclub environment, and their former lives seemed to have consisted of inconceivable deprivation. Amor, with the aid of her 'pick-me-up', formed a double act with Blen. She and Amor bought the same costumes, and had their haircut, styled and waved the same. They would parade topless when instructed, distinguishable only in that Amor's breasts now began to fill in response to her improved nutrition. They pushily introduced themselves, "I am Miss Blow-Job. She is Miss Boom-Boom. Which do you like?" or would stand on the stage, looming over a customer, pull their crotches aside and tease, "With or without Sir. What is your choice?" then bend double with laughter.
They became a popular novelty and customers would invite the pair to sit and drink with them. These drinks were converted frequently enough into blow-jobs for Blen, and bar-fines for Amor, and Amor's anxiety about her credit began to dissipate. There was one incidental opportunity they had to forgo for the present. At least once a night, a customer would ask to bar-fine the pair, but Blen was still confined to the bar.
On Tuesday evening, when the girls arrived for work and reported present to Mama, Mama told them that they would be representing Talent Spot at a B.O.W meeting on Thursday afternoon.
"What is B.O.W?" asked Amor.
"It is a special show featuring the headline dancers from many clubs. There are competitions, and a meal is served. There is a cover charge of 650 pesos, but it is very popular, there will be many customers."
"Why B.O.W?" asked Girlie.
"It means Bunch of Wankers, it is a joke, because the customers like to rub themselves off under the table watching the sexy dances," Mama explained.
"If they are horny, can they bar-fine us?" asked Amor.
"Yes, but they take you away at the end of the show. Also, one girl is guarantee a bar-fine, she is the winner of the Dirty Dancing competition. She is the prize in the lottery. The guy who win the lottery has her, one night, on free bar-fine."
"If is free I do not want to go," said Amor.
"The winning girl get a prize of 3000 pesos. It is free to the lottery winner," Mama said.
"Ohhh ... 3000 pesos ... OK, I go ... are there other prizes?"
"For the girls, there is a second prize, 1000 pesos, and third, 500. For the customer, there is many prize, including half-price bar-fines, they just pay the girl share. Also, free drinks, T-shirts, beer-wraps and discount-vouchers for meals. These things are used to promote different sponsors of the meet."
"Is there judges like in the Wet-T?" asked Blen.
"No. Here the customer are the judge. There will be Sampaguita necklaces for sale at 30p each. If a customer like a girl, he will buy a necklace for her, the waitress then take it to the stage and put it on the girl. The girl with most necklaces is the winner. For each necklace a customer buy, he will get a lottery ticket, so the more necklace he buy for the girl he like, the better her chance of her winning the contest, and the better his chance to win her on free bar-fine. If a customer buy you a necklace, encourage him. The waitress will also encourage because she get commission on her sale of necklace."
"Where will it be?" asked Girlie.
"It was plan to be in Daisy Chain, it is a big bar and it need lots of room 'cos there are many girl and many customer. But, the Station 4 police have hear rumours about NBI plans, so it will be in Tropical Island. It has a bar upstairs. The Tropical Island girls and the food will be in both bars, but the Dirty Dancing competition will be on the stage upstairs. If there is a raid, it will take time to go upstairs. This will suit you Amor, it mean your dance can be lewd if you like."
"What about me, can I be in the Dirty Dance competition?" asked Blen.
"No," said Mama, "You cannot be bar-fine. But, you will be in Talent Spot's team of dancers. The team from each bar dance sets, in turns. The sets are short because of many team, so you will do three, maybe four short sets thro the afternoon.
"Oh, and Blen, the Come2AC, the guys who video the Wet-T contest, ask me if you will do a photo-shoot with them. I said I ask, but you do not have a cell phone, so they cannot call you. It is between you and them. They must contact you."
"I do not know," replied Blen. "What is a photo-shoot? Why do they ask me? I suppose I must wait them then."
Tuesdays and Wednesdays were always the quietest nights of the week. The till rolls confirmed this in high season, but in the rainy season there was no need to consult the roll. The atmosphere in the bar was as if the doors had been locked with the girls inside. It takes a certain number of customers to create the buzz of excitement that feeds on its self, so, even when there were one or two customers present, the customers could not lift the girls, and the girls could not lift the customers to the point where excitement feeds on excitement and a self-sustaining party atmosphere is achieved. The girls went through the motions, like the hostess of a dinner party when most of the guests did not turn up, disconsolately serving up their tasty dishes in the knowledge that they would be returned to the larder unsampled.
Daddy consulted the till roll, nonetheless, and he could tell that if the bar shut on Tuesday and Wednesday, his deficit would be cut by seventy-two-per-cent. He knew, however, that when he reopened on Thursday he would have no girls. They would be working in Girls'R Us or some other bar. Retaining a reasonable stable of girls through the rainy season was an essential part of the strategy for a successful high season, but the loss grieved Daddy Don, who was an owner as well as a manager, and his grumpiness was less well controlled. Every half an hour he would emerge from the back into a bar bereft of customers, and like a desperate general rallying his despondent troops, urge the girls to dance with greater urgency, smile more broadly, and stay alert for any engagement, then order one or two futile initiatives before striding to the door to peer up and down the street, seeking to conjure customers into existence.
With no customers to glad-hand, the managers would relieve their boredom by visiting other bars to commiserate with their peers, and exchange gossip, rumours, opinions and jokes. The managers of The Horny Toad and Front Bumper sloped in on Wednesday evening, lowered their umbrellas, gave them into the custody of the door guard, sauntered over to where Daddy Don slumped dejectedly before the stage, shook his hand, and occupied the stools either side of him. Blen filtered to the front of the stage, waved and gave them the blow-job invitation. She knew it was pointless, but thought, since Daddy was there, she had better show willing. They gave her polite, but tired smiles. There being not a lot else happening, Blen hovered close to eavesdrop.
Jock, the manager of The Horny Toad, a short, sandy haired Scotsman, kicked off. "Now we'll be getting an influx of Russians. There's a small Russian start up airline that's applied to fly into Clark."
"Any new, fucking custom is welcome at this time of year," said Daddy, "but do we need any more Mafia types? Who will these guys be? New money? And in Russia new money means crime. Next thing is they'll be putting muscle on us."
"There is too much big money sloshing about already," said Gunter, the Manager of Front Bumper, a German with a good track record as a manager of several clubs. "Between Town Hall redevelopment plans, and these mysterious investors, land and rental prices are being pushed through the roof."
"Yeah. I got in just in time," said Daddy, "I couldn't buy this lot now. Fact is though, if I sold now, I could get a good price, and it would bear no relation to the profit I generate. Don't know how long that'll last. If I sold up, what would I do? I'm not going home, and this keeps me gainfully occupied. Best job I've ever had. I don't want to be a manger. Been my own boss for too long, couldn't do things someone else's way anymore."
"That was my intention," said Gunter, "I thought I would learn the business at someone else's expense, then buy my own bar. But the reasonably priced lots have disappeared, and I do not wish to rent. Now I am employed while a bar stays profitable. When it closes, I have to move on. It is very uncertain."
"Well, you could lease, if you think you can make the bar pay," said Daddy.
"I lease," said Jock, "and I wouldn't recommend it. The market in land is rising, and on a rising market, rent chases profits. When the rent is reviewed your profits disappear, and you start again. You're always chasing a moving target. I wish I'd bought years ago. At least I would have a nest egg. Now my landlord has my nest egg."
"Do you have a proper lease, or just Rights?" asked Daddy.
"It's a proper lease, but with review breaks. It ends in 2011, and I have an option to renew, but I doubt I will. That'll be end for me."
"Have you ever considered taking Rights, there's still a few bars available, Rights Only, off the main drag," Daddy asked Gunter.
"I've seen the adverts stuck up in the urinals," said Gunter, "that tells you all you need to know about Rights. If the owner is desperate enough to advertise his business in the urinal, he thinks the deal would only be attractive to a drunk. Anyone who wants the Rights can wait until the business folds and get them from the landlord, free of any premium."
Daddy said, "Well, you could partner with an entrant, like you-know-who. They put up the finance, and you manage for a salary and cut of the monthly profits. Come June, when the profits cease, you pull out, and three months later the bar folds. You can then start fresh with a new sucker in December."
"That is not ethical business. If I do not think it can succeed, I will not invest my time. I must leave the suckers to others," said Gunter.
"Very laudable," said Daddy, "but ethics are becoming rarer in business here. It's like a pyramid of suckers here. The trick is to stay off the bottom of the pyramid."
"The first time I came here, it was cosy and friendly," said Gunter, "the bars were small and wild. You would get up close with the girls, and they would plead to be bar-fined. Everyone had a good time. If the girls got a little wild no one cared, the local police and officials weren't interested, and small sums greased palms to ensure trade continued smoothly. I thought I could run a bar here, I thought I could organise a bar better, and I can, but now we all have been overtaken by big money."
"Yeah, it's no longer a lifestyle business," moaned Daddy, "The big money is taking over, and turning the girls into commercial prostitutes. That's fine for the Japs, but it's not the business I got into. Sitting watching girls, goldfish bowl style, in these big bars just isn't the same experience. You may as well go to a strip club. The whole idea was that you could sit up by the girls; you could talk and touch. That was the fun. Big money has driven out the fun."
"The police and NBI have turned against fun. Times change," said Jock.
"The police and NBI do nothing unless they're paid," said Daddy, "If you're the victim of crime, they won't do anything but take your complaint, unless you pay. If you pay, they swing into action. Ten years ago, a few thousand pesos would guarantee inactivity. Now, my fucking government is paying them to take action against my business."
"Yes, it's ironic that the United States turned Angeles into a brothel for its servicemen, in the tradition of your famous general Hooker, and ran it as such for fifty years. As soon as the Philippines had kicked your bases out, and the Filipinos practised prostitution on their own account, it became an evil. It is human trafficking. No action, no aid. So the government is forced to pass a Human Trafficking Act, and assign funds to persecute us in return for their aid. There is a case of hypocrisy here," observed Gunter.
"We don't practice prostitution," said Daddy, knowingly, "There's no prostitution and no trafficking. The TAAC has bought the best legal advice, and we have guidelines to follow which keep us within the law. We check that all the girls are over eighteen, and they are all recruited specifically to work in hospitality establishments. They are all licensed to work here by Angeles City Social Health and Welfare Department. They are all paid on salary, plus sales commission. We observe the dress code. If the girls are a bit pushy with the customers, or a bit unruly, we keep things in hand. That is legal. We don't require them to take early release if they make their quota of sales, and we don't require them to accompany anyone if they achieve early release. No prostitution. No lewd displays."
"Ha Ha Ha," said Jock, "and how often do the girls not leave with the customer who buys her quota."
"As often as they want," said Daddy, "that's all that matters. They may have their reasons for going with their customer, but that's between them and their customer. We don't get involved. That's all the law requires, and that's what we observe."
"But we still get more and more raids," said Jock, "A raid will close a small bar, even if there are no charges."
"It's been before the court dozens of times in the past years," said Daddy, "and there have never been any successful prosecutions, but with the big money now involved, they keep grafting. They get their bribes, win or lose."
"I wonder how they will get on with the Russians," said Gunter. "They will pay a hit man before they pay a bribe, or at least afterwards."
"The Koreans and Japanese seem to have an easy ride," said Jock.
"That's because there's no fun in their bars. It's antiseptic and discrete. Not a place you'd want to go even to collect a bribe," said Daddy.
"I think, the best days of Angeles are behind it," said Jock. "It looks as though in ten years it will be a rest and recreation resort for Asian businessmen. They'll arrive with vouchers, and be allocated a room and a girl from a list, something to occupy them when they're not playing golf ... efficient and joyless."
Blen had followed the conversation with interest. "What about satisfaction guaranteed girls Daddy?" she interjected, "We have to go with the customers?"
"You never have to go with any customer, Blen," replied Daddy, "Satisfaction guaranteed is a private arrangement between you and the customer, we're not involved. As long as you sell drinks, we're happy, and we leave you to promote sales to your customer. Once you achieve your quota for the day, you can leave if you want. You're on job and finish."
"But, the customer can get his bar-fine back if we do not meet his requirement," countered Blen.
"We only refund prepayments made for drinks which the customer doesn't consume," said Daddy, "If they've drunk their beers, they can't get their money back, we just consult our records."
"What about short-times?" asked Blen.
"Is that what you get up to in the booth?" answered Daddy, "We'll have to put a stop to that," and he and his companions laughed. "You like working here don't you Blen?" he asked.
"Yes I do."
"You like having fun with the customers don't you?"
"Of course Daddy."
"Would you rather be here or back in the province?"
"Oh Daddy, I do not want to go back in the province, I like a job, I like to be here, I must support my family," said Blen emotionally.
Daddy turned to his friends, "So every body's fucking happy. Why does the fucking government want to interfere?"
His companions nodded in agreement.
Blen filtered back into the dancers.
"Why are they talking about prostitution and trafficking?" asked Amor.
"They are worried about the raids."
"But we are not prostitutes, are we?"
"No, of course we are not," Blen assured her, "The girlfriend experience is different; we are looking for husbands. It is the same here as in the province, it is not prostitution. Guys like sexy girls, so we are sexy for them, that is all. What else can we do to get our husband? "
On Thursday, just after midday Mama assembled her team in Tropical Island for the B.O.W meet. The bar had been open since noon, but, just for today admission was by ticket only. The tickets were available in advance or could be bought at the door. Because of the limited capacity, customers in the know turned up early to buy the few remaining tickets and claim the best seats.
Tropical Island had the footprint of a smaller bar, being long and oblong with a stage on the left hand side and the bar and toilet to the rear. Unlike the other small bars it had a spiral staircase at the back which led to a similar floor space upstairs. The layout was the same, except there was no bar or toilets, allowing a larger number of customers to be accommodated. It was a favourite location for private functions and private shows to which the normal rules of decorum did not apply. The B.O.W was not a private function since anyone could buy a ticket, but closed doors and the relative inaccessibility of the upstairs bar lent it the feel of a private function and the participants behaved accordingly.
While the girls changed and were organised, the Tropical Island girls occupied both the upstairs and downstairs stages. They were in high spirits, anticipating a fun afternoon, and were already in the party mood. Greetings, insults, girlish banter and bursts of laughter ricocheted, quick fire, back and forth across both bars, piercing the upbeat dance music.
The early-bird customers made their way to the back of the downstairs bar, up the narrow spiral staircase and to the stage side stools at the upstairs bar. A little later, the bench seats filled, and then the tables. By half-past-one customers were arriving at the top of the staircase, looking around, and finding all the seating filled, turning around and going back to the downstairs bar. Here, the seating tended to fill in the reverse order. The customers preferred the comfort of the bench seats, then the tables, where it would be easier to eat, lastly the bar stools, which pressed close up against the stage.
Mama-san explained to the girls that all the guys on the stage-side stools upstairs were regulars who lived in Angeles. They were the same faces who turned up every time, and they knew to arrive early and get the best seats. The guys who ended up in the downstairs bar were newbies, and tourists, who didn't know the ropes.
Just before two, Belle entered and looked around for a seat on the ground floor. A waitress took her in hand and helped pack her in between two large gentlemen who eased apart to make space for her on a bench seat. They seemed pleased to have this attractive young woman sandwiched between them. Catching sight of her, Girlie raced over, and they embraced and kissed. Belle sat Girlie on her lap and ordered a ladies drink.
The large gentlemen introduced themselves. "It looks like we're going to be buddies for a few hours," the one to her right drawled. "I'm Al, this is Dave."
"Hi, I'm Belle, this is my girlfriend Girlie," she replied.
Girlie was thrilled to hear she was a girlfriend.
Belle, Al and Dave, fell into an easy, vacation conversation, helped by the fact that Al and Dave were former US servicemen; they were all Americans on holiday in a foreign land looking for a good time, and whatever views they may have ever held about women, let alone gays, in the services, they wouldn't ask and she wouldn't tell.
As two-pm arrived, the compère checked that the communications between upper and lower floors worked, and kicked off proceedings. The bar was packed tightly on both floors, the customers squeezed into the seating, girls standing between them, anxious to occupy any welcoming lap. The customers, keen to have something sexy to dandle in their laps while they watched the show readily obliged, and the girls sucked up their ladies drinks. Drink flowed copiously, the free drink vouchers included in the cover price being changed up in rapid succession. Waitresses threaded back and forth, busily fuelling the bonhomie; the air-con laboured, but managed to keep the atmosphere comfortable, if not a cold as it normally would be. Outside, on the pavement, preparation of a barbecue meal began. By ten-past-two, the "Sold Out" sign went up, and the doors closed.
On the stage, the best offerings from many bars performed in turn, dancing provocatively and energetically.
The Mama-sans cautioned the girls, "No wardrobe accidents when you are downstairs. Keep your costume on, nothing bold. Do not get us arrested," and were careful to remind the excited girls again, as they mounted the stage.
The atmosphere in the downstairs bar was fun. In the upstairs bar, it became positively louche.
In the ladies, Anabel and Amor took their little pick-me-up, and washed it down with a local drink provided by the management. Amor took two, just to be sure.
Talent Spot danced their first set on the ground floor. When the compère announced the running order for the next couple of sets, Girlie kissed Belle, and promising to return, slipped off her lap and moved toward the rear to gather with the other girls around Mama-san. Elsewhere, when Talent Spot girls vacated laps they were promptly filled by other eager occupants, keen to plant their plump bottoms on welcoming crotches, and receive a ladies drink from the delighted occupants.
Blen and Amor had made a special effort to look like one another today, and to the tourists unpractised in differentiating Malay features, they could easily pass as twins. Taking the centre of the line-up, they danced in the steps they had practised, presenting as a novelty, which helped them stand out from the crowd.
A respectably dressed customer, sitting at the stage, leaned over the bar and called, "Hey. Are you two twins?"
"Yes we are twins," replied a dis-inhibited Amor.
"What are your names?"
"I am Miss Boom-Boom, and this is Miss Blow-Job ... which do you like?"
Without breaking step, in response to Amor's introduction Blen dutifully gave him the blow-job sign.
"As you can see from her cherry badge, Miss Blow-Job is a cherry girl," came the compère's ironic comment over the PA.
Mama-san appeared in front of the stage, looking stern, and waving her finger.
The customer called back, "Oh, I think I prefer Boom-Boom."
Amor looked at Mama, and shimmied over to where the customer sat, and kneeling on the bar, pulled his head forward into her crotch and massaged his head. When she allowed him up, he grinned broadly and raising his thumb, called "Bar-fine". Amor promptly nodded her agreement. The chatter of the bar was punctured by congratulatory noises.
She rejoined Blen, but now her attention and her dancing focused on this customer. Seeing Mama make her way over, she drew close to the customer again. Mama spoke to them both. "Amor is in the Dirty Dance contest, so you can bar-fine her at the end, but she is working until we finish this afternoon ... Do you understand Amor."
Her customer said, "Great, that's something to look forward to. She can sit with me, can't she?"
"Of course. When she is not dancing ... buy her a lady drink."
After the ten minute set, Amor strode off the stage, walked round to her customer, straddled his lap and kissed him, flamboyantly claiming possession. He looked like the cat that got the cream. His friend beckoned to Blen, and she went over. He patted his lap. "Better make it book-ends." Blen straddled his lap in the same manner as Amor.
He introduced himself as Aidan, and Amor's customer as Danny. While Blen flirted amiably with her customer, Amor subjected hers to an unbridled amorous assault, hugging him close, simpering and smiling, staring into his eyes and subjecting him to long kisses, inserting her tongue deep into his mouth. This pleased him greatly.
When called away for a set upstairs, Amor held his hand and walked away holding it, staring doe-eyed back at him, until their hands pulled apart. As the girls struggled up the spiral staircase, squeezing past traffic coming in the opposite direction, Blen asked Amor, "Do you like Danny then?"
"You know, he has stealed my heart already," Amor replied.
"Is he available?" Blen, came to the point immediately.
"I do not know. Today, I do not care."
"Where is he from?"
"I do not know."
"What is his job?" continued Blen.
"I do not know"
"Then, what do you talk about?"
"We do not talk," answered Amor.
"Then why does he steal your heart?" Blen was puzzled.
"Because he is in love to me," answered Amor.
"But if he does not talk with you, how do you know he is in love to you?" pursued Blen.
"It is in his eyes. It is how he hold me."
They were now reaching the top of the stairs, and Amor stopped and looked down. Blen followed her gaze. Sure enough, Danny was looking back over his shoulder, following Amor's progress. He blew her a kiss. She returned it. They waved, and she turned and continued out of his sight, onto the upper floor.
"You see, I tell you," Amor said to Blen.
Blen was in awe of Amor's confidence, based on such a brief and flimsy acquaintance.
On the upper floor, at the top of the stairs a floor manager stood guard. The crowd was far more raucous, and the dancers more prone to wardrobe accidents. The old hands, on the stage stools, encouraged the girls with bawdy requests, and waved 50 peso notes as an inducement. Breasts and pussies flashed, and the dancers came right up to the customers, allowing themselves to be fondled as a prelude to receiving their tip. The old hands knew and were known by most of the girls, and there was a history between them, the repetition of which added salt to the badinage, and advertised the various girls advantages to the onlookers.
When the Talent Spot girls again took to the stage, Blen and Amor's twin act immediately made them the object of front row solicitations. 50 peso notes were waved, and Blen and Amor pulled their breasts out over the top of their costumes, they then went to either end of the stage and worked back towards the centre, allowing the customers, in turn, to fondle and kiss their breasts, before slipping their 50p note into the side of the bra cup. When they met in the middle, they paused to pull out the tips and insert them into the garter on their right thigh, spread in a fan. The pitch of the excited chatter had increased notably.
"Show us your cooze," shouted someone at the back, and this was taken up in the front row.
A man made his way forward, waving a 100-peso note. He waved it at Amor. "Let's have a look at your honey pot, honey," he called.
Amor shimmied over, and briefly pulling the gusset of her thong to one side gave him a flash.
"Come on, give me 100 pesos worth," he cajoled, waving the note.
Amor pulled her thong to one side, and continued to snake in front of him. He beckoned her closer. She moved in. He took off his spectacles, cleaned and replaced them, then leaned forward, to take a close up look. Amor stopped snaking, and thrust her pelvis forward for his inspection.
"Oh that's just beautiful," he said, and reached out ran his fingers over her pubis, "that's an excellent shave." He rose, bent forward, and planted a kiss on her pussy. He signalled for her to wait, then he rolled the note tightly longwise, and pushed one end into her pussy.
"Thank you Sir," said Amor, and she shimmied slowly backwards, pelvis thrust out, the 100p note protruding, and turned right and left so all the crowd could see.
The excited cacophony blipped higher in appreciation. She finally pulled out her note and allowed her thong to snap back. Now, other customers came forward, waving 100 peso notes at the girl of their choice. Soon there was a crowd at the stage bar, and the girls were queuing in front of them.
Blen sidled up to the customer who singled her out. She pulled her thong taught and wriggled it until the gusset, clasped between her labia, disappeared into her vagina. Her customer took hold of her labia with the fingers of each hand, and pulled them out, into elastic wings, before bestowing an admiring kiss, and inserting his 100-peso note.
When they left the stage, the Talent Spot girls were very happy. The trip to the upper floor had proved remunerative, and the girls were now importuned with invitations to sit and have a ladies drink. The man with the spectacles tapped Amor on and the shoulder and extended an invitation.
"Sorreee Sir, my boyfriend is downstairs," she told him, and nodded towards Blen. "Blen will sit with you."
He looked a little disappointed, but when he turned to Blen, Blen beamed invitingly, and he graciously accepted the arrangement. As Blen settled into his lap, Amor and Girlie disappeared down the staircase and out of her view. Anabel insinuated herself through the crush, having her bum felt along the way, to squash up by Blen.
"Is that guy Amor's boyfriend?" she asked, incredulously.
"Yes. Instant boyfriend, just add beer," said Blen, dubiously.
"Where is my instant boyfriend?" wondered Anabel.
As the afternoon passed, the girls moved from upstairs to downstairs and back up again, Girlie and Amor returning to the laps of their intimate friends between sets, and the other girls slipping onto any welcoming lap. As drink was consumed, the atmosphere became yet more ribald. Blen, having been plied with ladies drinks, had a glow on. With difficulty, the waitresses transported plates of barbecue from the street, through the crush, to the customers.
The second set of the Talent Spot girls on the upstairs stage was greeted with applause. Emboldened by this reception, Blen immediately went thong down, top up, exposing her breasts and pussy. Cheers filled the small bar. Taking her cue, and responding to the enthusiasm of the crowd, all the girls rapidly followed suit, and in this manner danced energetically for the next ten minutes. When the compère announced the end of the set, and invited applause, a shower of screwed up notes and coins were thrown onto the stage. The girls scurried to pick up the money before leaving the stage.
As evening approached, the Dirty Dancing competition was announced. All girls, except those on stage, were asked to make their way downstairs. When that was done, the paying customers on the ground floor were invited to make their way upstairs. Danny parted from Amor, and Belle from Girlie. When all the customers were on the upper floor, the waitresses, laden with Sampaguita necklaces, followed, their wares filling the air with a delightful fragrance.
The contestants were queued up the staircase. Blen joined Amor, though she was not in the contest. She did not want to languish on the ground floor, and decided to infiltrate the upper floor and find a discrete hiding place from which to watch the action. The girls were called on stage in groups of ten, and danced two numbers before giving way to the next ten. The music was upbeat and energetic, and lent itself to wild gyrations rather than sensual undulations. This favoured the smaller, tauter breasted girls who were slender and more agile. The larger breasted girls looked inelegant in rapid motion, and Amor and the more acrobatic dancers began to receive Sampaguita necklaces.
In three quarters of an hour, Amor had danced three times, and her burden of Sampaguita gradually increased. Danny bought multiple necklaces, but other customers also bought her necklaces, including her bespectacled admirer. Amor became aware that she was a front-runner, and smiled encouragingly at Danny, but it gradually dawned on both of them the amorous tryst they had planned would be forestalled if she won the contest. The odds were stacked against Danny holding the winning ticket.
Amor began to throttle back. She covered her breasts, and was more restrained in her dance. The flow of necklaces to her slowed. Danny ceased buying immediately. A glance around confirmed that the garlands at her neck placed her in the top three. Whispered enquiries were made through the waitress, and the record of donations was reviewed. Numbers 8, 25 and 32 were the top three, with 23, 32 and 25 necklaces. Amor was No 32. She was in the final group of ten, and she was in second place with just one round of dances to go. Provided she received no more necklaces than No 25, she was safe.
She made her way to Danny, and instructed him to buy her no more Sampaguita. He nodded in understanding, and she moved back to join the queuing contestants.
No 8 garnered ten more necklaces in her final dance, placing her well ahead of Amor. A couple more girls, in the second group, nosed ahead of her. In the third group, No 25 received ten necklaces, taking her well clear of Amor.
When she mounted the stage for her last dance, Amor was confident that No 25 had won. She slouched listlessly for 90 seconds, and with 90 seconds to go was basking in the prospect of her first evening with Danny. A hand flagged in her peripheral vision. The waitress was holding a huge garland of Sampaguita. Amor looked stunned.
"Twenty necklaces," said the waitress, pointing at the man with the spectacles, who waved amiably at Amor.
His expression dropped when he saw the look of horror on Amor's face. Amor looked desperately at Danny.
He looked blank for a few seconds, then jumped up, pointed at No 25, and waved a bundle of notes in the air. "All the Sampaguita you have, for that girl."
He looked from waitress to waitress. One by one they, raised their hands and shook, and called, "Wala."
The whole bar tuned in to the drama.
"Anyone with Sampaguita?" he called.
The waitresses looked from one to another, and shook their heads.
As the number meandered to its end, and the contest was completed, the bespectacled man was looking around, asking, "What's wrong ... have I done something wrong?"
Blen slipped from her hiding place, and slid up to him. "She has her boyfriend..." She pointed to Danny. "... but now she is the prize."
"Aw shit," he responded, "What a fuck up. Here, give him my tickets."
The whole floor was by now, riveted by the unfolding events.
"Here, take my tickets," the bespectacled man called to Danny.
Danny immediately called out, "Any lottery ticket for 30 pesos. All you've got."
"Here, take mine. Don't worry about the pesos," called a voice.
Several more joined in. Blen, taking the bespectacled man's tickets, rushed around collecting the proffered tickets, even the compère offered his. Some parleyed with Danny for his tickets, others sat pat on theirs, considering the chance of a night with Amor not to be passed up for a few trifling pesos.
The compère made a tardy introduction to the result while Danny got in as many tickets as he could. "Well, we have to bring proceedings to an end, so now, in the traditional manner, in reverse order, these are our winners today."
Blen had gone to sit with Danny, and they were attempting to put the tickets in some sort of order.
"Third prize goes to No 8 with 33 necklaces. Come up and get your prize No 8," called the compère.
He interviewed No 8 briefly - name and club - and presented her prize of 500p.
"In second place, No 25 with 42 Sampaguita, come up No 25," he called.
No 25, delighted, climbed onto the stage to accept her 1000p.
At last, he announced, "And finally, in first place with 45 Sampaguita, No 32. Step up No 32."
Amor stepped up, looking dejected.
"I've never seen such a miserable winner," said the compère, "If 3000p can't make you smile, I don't know what can."
He asked her name and bar, and then said, "Well, there's just one more event before we wrap up this evening. Amor is not just the winner of our Dirty Dancing contest, she's also the first prize in tonight's prize draw. The lucky winner will have a free night with Amor to bar-hop, or watch TV, or whatever he can think of to pass the time. But I can tell you this, I overheard Amor introduce herself downstairs as Miss Boom-Boom. Is that right Amor?"
"Well, that's the way she plans to spend the evening. And, who will be the lucky guy to put his boom into Miss Boom-Boom tonight. I can tell you this; we have sold all our necklaces this afternoon, that's 1000 pieces. Nearly everyone here has a ticket, and has a chance to take the lovely Miss Amor away."
Danny looked down at the tickets massed in front of him. At most, 200, he thought. The odds were four to one against. He looked up at Amor, and shrugged hopelessly.
The counterparts of the draw tickets were all deposited in a large glass bowl, which was placed in front of the compère. He placed his hand in the bowl, and wriggled it around.
"OK, I'm closing my eyes," he said.
Round and round went his hand, and the counterparts flew about in the jar, then he closed his fingers, and pulled one out. He handed it to Amor.
"Would you read out the number of the winning ticket?"
Amor read haltingly, "Five, four, seven."
"Would the person holding ticket 547 come forward and claim your prize," he intoned dramatically.
Around the bar, customers riffled through their tickets. Blen helped Danny, because he was holding more than anyone else. No one claimed the prize. The compère waited patiently.
After a few minutes, he looked up at Danny, "Have you finished checking your tickets, Sir."
"The rules of the draw are, that holders of the ticket must be present and in possession of the ticket at the time of the draw, and must claim their prize within two minutes. If no valid claim is made, a second ticket is drawn, and so on, until we get a winner. The two minutes are up. Last time of calling, does anyone have ticket 547?"
There was no response.
"I will now draw again," he put his hand back into the bowl.
As before, with closed eyes he twirled his hand, drew out a ticket, and handed it to Amor.
"Two, three, six," read Amor.
"Whoever is holding ticket 236, you have two minutes, starting now, to claim your prize, the lovely Miss Amor, also known as Miss Boom-Boom. Would the lucky guy please claim his prize, now?"
Again, tickets riffled, and time passed.
"You have one minute left to claim your prize," intoned the compère.
" 10... 9 ... 8 ... 7 ... 6 ..."
A high pitched scream shredded the nerves of everyone in the bar. All heads turned. Blen was jumping up and down with her arms in the air, a ticket clamped between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
"There's a lady on the right, at the back screaming," announced the compère, "I'm pausing the countdown at 5, to see if this is significant."
Blen continued to shriek, and ran toward the stage, the crowd parting in front of her. She hopped up onto the stage, and handed the ticket to Amor. Amor looked at it, and screamed. She hugged Blen, and they both screamed, and jumped up and down. Amor broke free, and following Blen's route in reverse, ran over and claimed Danny.
"I think we have a winner," announced the compère. "For the remainder of the draws, could you just raise your hand if you hold a winning ticket."
Blen settled up beside Amor and Danny.
After much hugging, and mutual congratulation, Danny turned to Blen. "That was a ticket you were given, wasn't it? If you can remember who's it was I'd like to buy him a drink."
"It was a blue ticket. I think the blue tickets were given to me by..." she paused, frowning quizzically, "... by the compère, I think."
Three heads turned towards the stage. The compère looked over and gave them a theatrical wink.
As the minor prizes were distributed the Tropical Island girls resumed the stages, and the guest dancers changed and made their way back to their home bars.
Outside Tropical Island, Blen said goodbye to Amor who had been bar-fined by Danny, and Girlie who had been bar-fined by Belle, and walked back down Fields to Talent Spot. As she changed again for her evenings work, she reflected with a twinge of jealousy that Precious, Girlie and now Amor were forming attachments while she languished in Talent Spot as resident blow-job girl. She felt lonely and yearned for a boyfriend.
Shortly after beginning her first set, a guy sat up at the stage and flagged her. She bent forward to see what he wanted.
"Hi Blen, I'm Jordan, you may remember me from the Wet-T. I was the videographer."
"Yes, I remember, Siir."
"I'd like to do a photo-shoot with you. Well, with you and your twin actually, I've just seen you both at B.O.W. I think you'd do a good shoot."
"What sort of photo-shoot is it Siir?" queried Blen.
"It's a glamour shoot. We make you look very pretty, and we use the sets on our web sites. Our members like to see shots of pretty Filipina girls, so we do portfolios of one or two girls from various bars every month. I think our members would like to see you."
Blen was reticent. "Is it bold photos?"
"It's very tasteful, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, they're the sort of shots we use to promote tourism," Jordan assured her.
"Where is it?" asked Blen.
"We have a house with a big photo studio, and garden, and a nice swimming pool, we'll do the shoot there. We arrange a car to pick you up and bring you back, and you get 1500p each. Does Monday week suit you, the 2nd of October?"
"Amor has Hygiene on Monday, Siir," said Blen.
"What time does she get back?"
"Well, by two."
"We'll pick you up at two at the lady-house. Tell your twin we would like her too."
"I will ask her, Siir," said Blen, and Jordan bade farewell.
The events at B.O.W had successfully raised awareness of Talent Spot. The dance team, with 'the twins' featuring prominently, had provided the biggest collective tease of the afternoon. A Talent Spot girl had won the dirty dancing contest, and the drama of the prize draw served only to promote the image of Talent Spot girls to the customers. This reflected itself in footfall, and the evening proved busy enough to make Daddy less grumpy.
When Blen returned from the booth with her second customer, Amor and Danny were sitting at a table with Girlie and Belle. They called her over. She waved in recognition, then walked her customer back to his seat, and when he was settled, made her excuses, and went and sat with the two couples.
On one side, Amor leaned into Danny, and he draped his arm around her, and in a mirror image, on the other side, Girlie leaned into Belle, and Belle draped her arm around her. All their eyes shone mistily from glowing faces. For the first time Blen felt a little excluded by her friends. She would have expected to have been sucked into a sisterly clique with Amor and Girlie, but they clearly felt they were part of a couple, and their attention was primarily directed to their partners.
Blen was burning to know the reason for this outbreak of unconfined contentment, but the conversation did not steer itself in that direction. In fact, the conversation positively flagged as the couples basked in the pleasure of each other's companionship. Blen began to feel she was a gooseberry, only there for politeness sake. She finished her drink, and indicated she had business in the rear. She was offered another drink, and for the first time since she started work in the bar, refused it.
As she walked off, Amor and Girlie bestirred themselves, realising that Blen was upset. They made excuses to their partners, and followed Blen into the changing area.
"Blen," called Amor, as they caught up with her, "we have news for you."
She was embraced by her friends in the familiar way, and they squatted down together to exchange gossip.
Girlie went first. "Belle wants me to be her wife."
"But you are not a tomboy," was Blen's startled response.
"She does not want a tomboy. She like me because I am not a tomboy," Girlie explained.
"So what does it mean? How will you be her wife?"
"She will rent an apartment for me, and she will support me, and I will keep a home for her. She will come to stay with me in her vacation."
"And will you work also?"
"Yes, I tell her I like to be with my friends, and she says it is OK," said Girlie.
"When will she rent your house?"
"At Christmas. She will go home tomorrow, but next time."
"Congratulations," said Blen, "but what if you meet a guy?"
"I do not know..." Girlie shrugged her shoulders. "... he must be a nice guy, Belle is nice, and she is so good to me."
"And do you have news also?" Blen turned to Amor.
"Yes. Danny is my boyfriend."
"Oh," said Blen, "Did he tell you?"
"No, but he taked me in his hotel and give me boom-boom. Twice."
"Does that mean he is your boyfriend?" asked Blen, doubtfully.
"It is the way he do it," Amor told her, "He make love to me."
"How do you know that?" Blen remained doubtful.
"You are a cherry girl, you do not understand," Amor said, abruptly.
"Oh!" Blen felt wrong footed, once more, by her virginity. "Then will you want to be in a photo-shoot. It is one week on Monday after Hygiene."
She explained the proposal to Amor, who thought for a few moments. "I will ask Danny," she said.
For the next few days, Blen saw little of her confidant Amor. Amor had captivated Danny and he kept her close. The happy couple would drop into Talent Spot every other night during their daily barhop, but Amor did not return to the lady-house. On Monday evening, they lingered longer than usual in Talent Spot, and Danny bought a couple of ladies drinks for all Amor's house mates. He was leaving on Tuesday.
Girlie's relationship with Belle proved less simple. Belle did not keep Girlie close. Some nights she would bar-fine her, some nights she would invite her to a sneak out after work, but Belle continued her promiscuous enjoyment of her tomboy friends.
Blen kept company with Precious, who returned to the lady-house the day after the B.O.W party. She had accompanied Darren to Manila airport to kiss him passionately farewell as a true girlfriend would, on the hard stand outside departures, while the taxi controllers tried to hustle her away. The taxi had then born her back to the lady-house with her neatly packaged acquisitions, which she locked safely in her locker, together with the gifts showered on her by Klaus.
Blen's locker remained occupied by the few possessions she had brought from Desbilla. She was aware that while Precious and Girlie, and even Amor, with the encouragement and aid of their customers, had begun to adapt their attire to their new lives, her own street dress remained that of a simple provincial girl. Precious sported a watch given her by Darren, and a necklace, and most importantly, a cell phone given her by Klaus.
It seemed ironic to Blen that Precious had had only two customers, which had resulted in two boyfriends, whereas she, who had, had over fifty customers, had not achieved a hint of a relationship. She pined for the day when she was no longer a virgin and could offer complete fulfilment to a chosen customer, as Amor had done to Danny.
Several times the sleeping girls had been disturbed in the night as Precious's phone rang. She had hurried downstairs to chat with Klaus. The following morning Blen would look forward with curiosity to hearing the details of the call.
On Sunday morning, Blen rose early to make her way to morning Mass. While she changed downstairs to avoid disturbing the others, Precious joined her.
"Was that Klaus last night?" Blen asked.
"Yes. He was came home from work and he was lonely, so he called to me. He is missing me."
"Why does he call so late?"
"Because in Europe it is day when it is night here and he is lonely in the evening," said Precious.
"Will he bring you in Europe, then he will not be lonely?"
"He is thinking. He like to be with me, but he does not yet know how?"
"But, he can marry with you. Will you marry with him?"
"He telled to me, that it is not simple like that. He want to be with me, but he has a family at home and there may be jealousy. He has a ex-wife, and he has children. So I must wait his plan."
Blen reflected that even for the most lucky the path to their goal was not smooth or easy.
"I have send a postcard to my mother," said Precious, "she will respond with the Digi-Tel number of Rozel's store, so we can call to our families on my cell phone."
This news lifted Blen's spirits as she badly missed Jesusa and wished to hear how she was benefiting from her remittance.
When Blen left for church, Precious went back to bed.
Blen lit candles, and prayed for Jesusa and her family. She prayed that Klaus would take Precious, Danny would take Amor, and Belle would take Girlie, and she prayed that God would send a good-hearted foreigner to take her away to a better life. Again, when she pressed a 1000p note into the charity box, she wondered, guiltily, how such a small contribution could bring about the transformation of even one miserable life.
Mar 11, 2018 in romance