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Bar Girl Ch. 01

By: XerXesXu



A romantic thriller in 15 chapters.

This is a story of a maiden in moral hazard. For some, no Apocalypse is needed to deliver them into a corrupt, dog eat dog world. Blen, is one such. Surrounded on all sides by dangerous people, facing the ultimate sacrifice to secure the future of her family, with cunning and artifice she employs her opponents' weapons to defeat them. But, not without highly erotic misadventures along the way.

*****

Chapter 1. "Wala."

The Land of Wala. Poverty and Provincial life. Amor. Precious. Girlie. Blen. Jesusa. Political backdrop. Mama Mutia and recruitment.

In the Land of Wala, with money you are fireproof, without it you are lost; without the love and protection of family you are nothing at all.

The rice seeds had germinated in the incubation fields and it was time to transplant these seedlings into the rice fields; backbreaking work, done by hand. Deep in the Land of Wala, on one of the hundreds of islands in the Visayan Sea, a group of day labourers dressed in straw hats secured by scarves, and cloaks made from palm leaves, their only shelter from the oppressive sun, sat down beside a paddy to eat a bowl of rice provided by the farmer. 

Five teenage girls, bare foot and thin as sticks, settled in the shade of a palm.

Precious, Girlie and Amor were cousins, and Jesusa was the younger sister of Blen. Snub nosed, high cheeked and tanned, in the Malay way, the girls' shining black hair, never cut, hung to their waists, except for Blen's, whose hair was waved, voluminous, and fell only to her shoulders. 

In a land where four out of ten lived on less than a dollar a day, they had the misfortune to count as unfortunate even to the unfortunate, each member of their families consuming about thirty cents of the world's abundance daily. Today, these girl-labourers would eat well; bellies full of sticky rice would be their payment for a long day labouring under the sun.

At first, they squatted silently, busy filling their mouths with balls of rice, then, as hunger waned, they gossiped.

"Lola says there is another bomb in Mindanao," said Girlie, the chatterbox, knowing this would excite Blen.

Precious, their emotional leader seeing a provocation, attempted to blunt it. "But, maybe there is no damage?" 

"It is bad. There is five dead and ten injured, just bystanders, they try to blow up Ampatuan," asserted Girlie.

Blen's face coloured with anger. "Ampatuan!" She hurled a rock at some unseen target and watched it splash harmlessly in the paddy. "Where is God? Five innocents are dead and Ampatuan live. Why do God protect the rich and abandon the poor?" 

"Maybe there is no God," said Amor, seeking to explain this injustice to her close friend, "maybe it is just a poor guy with a bad aim?"

Blen wilted a little. "Then, if there is no God, who is to rescue us?" 

"Do not blaspheme." Precious now sought to smooth this wrinkle in the fabric of divine providence. "And do not despair, that is the great sin. God will help those who will help themselves."

Blen sat up abruptly, her face hard, her voice harsh. "That is why he protect Ampatuan. Ampatuan help himself. He help himself to our land, our crops, our labour and our votes. That God is the God of thieves. Why do we have that God? He is not in other lands. He is not in America."

"I want to live in California," said Jesusa, with child-like indifference allowing her dream to intrude on others' reality. "When I grow up, I will go in America."

Hearing this, Blen felt the weight of familial responsibility crush down on her shoulders. At fourteen, Jesusa was working in the fields for a meal. How could she, Blen, who was unable to provide for herself, provide a future for her little sister? It was time to enrol in school for the next school year, but there was no money to enrol in even the state schools, so Jesusa would go another year without formal education.

"Florita have buy a fridge." Girlie presented her second morsel for consideration. "She have electric now, and she buy appliances."

Behind her long, dark lashes, Amor's eyes brightened with anticipation. "Maybe we will go over and watch TV tonight." 

"See, God help some of us," said Precious, vindicating her belief in a divine plan.

Girlie garnished her morsel. "It is her daughter, Marisol, sending a remittance. She have gone in Angeles. She work in the bar."

The group fell silent as they considered the implication for themselves. Remittances came from either the vaunted Filipino Overseas Worker, working as maids in Saudi and Hong Kong, or the bar girls working in Angeles City. The girls knew they were unqualified even to work as maids.

Girlie, Amor, Precious and Blen were eighteen, the watershed age for the girls of their barangay. If they were unable to change the direction of their lives now, the opportunity would pass, and they would become unwanted dependants, vulnerable to exploitation by anyone able to offer them a meal.

Girlie again broke the silence. "She is to be marry."

"Marisol?" queried Precious.

"Yes, she is to marry with a German guy, she will go to live in Germany this year."

"I like to marry with a foreigner," said Blen.

The girls laughed.

"We all like to marry with a foreigner," Precious chided. "We must all pray that God send us our foreigner."

Blen had little faith in prayer unsupported by action. "God help those who help themselves," she reminded Precious. "We must find our own foreigner."

The 'Land of Wala', is what poor Filipinos call their homeland. 'Wala' means 'the absence of', or 'nothing'. If one desires something, and there is none, the response is 'wala'. For far too many Filipinos, whatever they wish for, the answer is 'wala', thus, this word accurately describes their land, where everything seems absent. No shoes. No clothes. No food. No education. No job. No money. No future. No hope. The only prospect is a life of destitution, mitigated solely by the love and support of family.

The last President of the Land of Wala was now on trial for Plunder. As a popular action-movie actor, in a country where the rural poor vote for the dreams they see in the movies, 'Erap' Estrada's high recognition factor had made him a shoo-in for the presidency. In office, his binge drinking brought civil administration at the highest levels to a standstill, and the political classes were so scandalised that a palace coup was arranged. 

The Supreme Court readily agreed that intoxication in office amounted to constructive resignation, and the Vice President, in line with the constitution, succeeded to the Presidency. To rub salt into the wound, Estrada was charged with Plunder, on the basis that he had accepted the large bribes always paid to the President by the organisers of the numbers racket, an immensely popular, technically illegal gambling game, available on any street corner.

He was succeeded by President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who, in turn, though she had subsequently legitimised her Presidency through re-election, offended some members of the plutocracy. In February 2006, a planned military coup had leaked and been foiled. A state of emergency was briefly declared while many of the plotters were rounded up. So, a few months later, simultaneously, the last President, the plotters against the present President and the present President herself were on trial; Estrada in a specially constituted corruption court, the generals before the criminal courts, and Arroyo before Congress.

Twenty years before, the poor had risen up to cast out the Marcos regime, which had sustained itself in power by the use of Martial Law. Hopes of material improvement through improved government had diminished over the years and, when in February 2006 the 20th anniversary celebrations were cancelled due to a State of Emergency declared to forestall the military coup, there was little surprise, and little disappointment as there was precious little to celebrate.

The poor, who constituted three quarters of the rural population, saw their standard of living decline further and despaired of their dysfunctional political class ever delivering an improving standard of living. The political mood music was punctuated by the explosions of terror bombs set off in public places by Moro separatists in the south, the random assassination of local functionaries by the New Peoples' Army (NPA) in the east and north, and the targeted murder of journalists as a routine part of political campaigning throughout the country.

Now, in June, the rains were about to arrive in earnest. The sun had reached its highest and hottest in a deep blue sky that stretched like a velour canopy over neat water meadows, and the lush palms that fringed the paddies stood green and erect against the hills shimmering mysteriously in the heat haze beyond. This centuries old scene, of order, abundance and beauty, concealed in its detail, misery and despair. 

In 1990, the two-year-old Blen and her parents had been resettled in the barangay of Desbilla on the remote island of San Fernando because distant relatives lived there. She and her parents had been displaced as a result of fighting between the Muslim Ampatuan clan and Christian militias. The Ampatuans had swept through the small farming settlement killing all those present. Blen's parents, on their return, had scoured the huts and fields to find and bury the bodies of their own parents and other extended family. On hearing her parents' calls, Blen had emerged, quivering with fear, from the broken water butt into which she had been dropped by her grandmother.

As soon as the bodies were buried in shallow graves, and they had bagged up what possessions they could, the family abandoned its land to the Ampatuans and left for the relative safety of the Displaced Persons Settlement.

Years later, when Blen was twelve, her parents had travelled by boat to the provincial capital to claim some public land to farm. On the return trip, a typhoon had passed. Many small boats were lost, including the one on which her parents travelled. Blen and Jesusa had since lived in the care of neighbours, as foster children. The foster parents were dutiful, but the girls were a burden on a poor family.

Now eighteen, with a patchy education reflecting the scanty money available to pay the school fees of forced dependants, working in the fields for her food but bringing nothing home for the pot, Blen knew she must contribute or leave. This meant parting from her one blood relative, Jesusa - but to fulfil her familial obligation of support, she must leave. With Blen sending remittances, Jesusa would go to school - the private school - and get qualifications. She would wear new clothes, would have pocket money, and could mix with any child in the barangay on equal terms. Jesusa, at eighteen, could then go to nursing school, and, from there, to jobs in America or Europe. She would have a future. 

Blen, herself, now faced the future with great anxiety. Cash jobs were scarce, the preserve of the well educated and connected. There was only one well recognised route to paid employment for the destitute girls of her barangay, provided they were pretty, young and happy to excite and then indulge the libidos of those who might desire them. For Blen, there was no alternative. When she considered this prospect, it was with apprehension, but not because of the life it would entail. When she looked at her friends, who looked like her, it was with apprehension that her drab, emaciated appearance may make her unfit, even for that calling. 

She wished, and wished, and wished, and prayed that this opportunity would not escape her, because if it did, she and her sister had no hope, ever, of anything. If given this opportunity, she was determined to embrace it without flinching, and do whatever was necessary to become the most marriageable girl in Angeles City.

Each year, in July or August, shortly after the start of the rainy season, Mama Mutia would return for a few weeks to her smart, brick house in the barangay . While there, she would recruit a fresh cohort of girls to work in her nightclub in Angeles City. For two or three generations girls had followed this route. Some had returned, as had Mama Mutia, to build their own house and buy rice farms and coconut plantations. Some came with their boyfriends or husbands - foreigners - Americans, Australians and Europeans - who, at a moment's notice could reach into their pockets and pull out more money than some villagers had earned in their lives.

It is also true that, after five or ten years, many returned alone to resume their previous lives. But, at least for that time, they had supported their families, and put younger siblings through school.

Tales of the girls, and the bars, and the foreigners, were part of the village folklore, and news from Angeles was eagerly sought from returnees. Just as war veterans regale en-rapt youngsters with tales of derring-do, the veteran bar girls would regale fascinated teenagers with their high adventures in Angeles. Among Blen's circle of friends, this prospect had been a favoured topic of conversation since they were sixteen.

Who was pretty enough to be chosen? Who could ensnare a foreigner? Who could attract most customers? How could they please them? How generously would the customers tip? How much could the girls send home? All these topics were examined repeatedly, and in depth.

Some of the local girls had boyfriends, and would become rice farmers' wives. Some had embraced a promiscuous life style, and used their appetite for recreational sex as a condiment to add flavour to their, otherwise meagre, diet of life. Though considered attractive, Blen was never considered marriageable by the locals on account of her desperate poverty, having no land, no inheritance, and no prospects. She was a target for casual relationships, but resisted these insulting proposals, and consequently remained a virgin. 

By eighteen, however, nature had ignited in her a craving to be with a man that was held in check only by her right hand. Each night, before sleep, her hand would creep down her belly and insinuate itself between her thighs, there to give rhythmic accompaniment to increasingly vivid fantasies of ravishment. Consonant with the teenage chatter, the ravishment was by foreign men.

A month later, on 24th July, having just watched the President make her State of the Nation speech on Florita's television, the four girls sat one final time to discuss the allure of Angeles City. 

Two weeks before, some renegade army officers had been arrested, and in their possession was found evidence of a plot to storm Congress during the State of the Nation speech and take the congressmen and senators hostage. This year, an unprecedented part of the population had watched the speech, anticipating that a drama would unfold. Sixteen thousand police and soldiers, however, had been deployed around the legislature, and the speech passed without mishap.

President Arroyo had chosen the economy as her major theme. Her bullet points were:

-There would be more money for education, health and infrastructure. 

-Food and electricity would remain affordable.

-Corrupt officials would be punished.

-Funds would be made available to stamp out lawlessness.

Girlie cast an exasperated look at her companions. "Then what is it she did before?"

"It is as before," said Amor reflecting a general cynicism about government, "good words to hide bad deeds."

Blen's face froze with indignation. "There is nothing for us - not even one word of hope. We are forgotten. We do not have electric. We cannot buy food. We cannot pay school fees. We cannot afford a doctor, and we do not have a road. We cannot even pay a bribe. We have no money and we do not exist."

"Then we must get money," said Precious, who remained purposeful, unperturbed by another disappointing presidential performance, "I will go in Angeles and try my luck."

"Me also, I must go," Blen immediately added.

Amor's eyebrows rose and she cocked her head to look sideways at Blen. "You are a virgin. Are you really prepared?"

"Like I am prepared to die in battle, I will flinch at nothing. If I do not succeed, I will hope for death."

The other girls exchanged glances, impressed by Blen's unexpected resolution.

Amor, who would have been to content to live in a wooden hut and raise kids with a humble farmer, betrayed resignation rather than resolution. "I have no boyfriend; I suppose I must go too. Here, I cannot even be a labourer's wife."

"I want to be fucked by a guy who will marry me," said Girlie, who had cast her bread liberally on the water, but hooked no fish, "Here, if I give a guy his pleasure, he does not love me, and he does not make a gift, it is joy for joy only."

Precious was under no illusion about the nature of the life she and her friends were choosing. "Maybe it will be joy for the foreigner, but not for you. Their joy is not normality only."

"I will submit, like to my husband," declared Girlie," and learn joy in submission."

"It is our fate," said Blen. "We cannot chose our fate, but we must make with it the best we can. We must ask Mama Mutia when she come. If she will not help, I do not know what will become of me. I will have no life."

"She will come soon," said Precious. "We must pray."

When, in August, Mama Mutia returned, Blen and her three friends approached her.

After breakfast, consisting of a ball of boiled rice, and before the day grew too hot, they stood at her gate and called out. Mama Mutia emerged to greet and admit them, as she had many others before. Knowing they would ask to work, she examined them with a professional eye as they filed into her kitchen, picturing them cleaned up, dressed up, and fattened up. They all passed muster.

Precious acted as spokesperson. "Mama, we like to work in Angeles, do you need girls?"

Mama seated the girls, fetched each a cold drink from the fridge, then launched into her well-practised recruitment patter. 

She described a new start, as a new person, with a new name, in a new place, and the freedom that would bring to do as they wanted and be their own person.

She described the opportunity to send money home to support their families. 

There would be new friends, nightlife, music, costumes, the chance to meet eligible men, especially foreign men.

As familiar examples, she named the local girls who now lived in foreign lands, identified the smart houses they owned in the barangay.

She described their brothers and sisters who had been educated on their remittances, listed the relatives who had received life enhancing, indeed life saving, medicines or surgery.

She listed the fields bought, the motorised ploughs, the boat engines, the videoke machines, and the small businesses launched.

She described the gratitude of the families and the prestige the girls had acquired.

She listed the present barangay officials who had taken this route and returned with new ideas and attitudes to assume roles of leadership in the local community.

When the girls were totally enthused, Mama Mutia hurried through the disadvantages, though, by now the girls were disposed to dismiss these. 

They would lose the immediate support of their families, though she would be a surrogate mother to them. 

They would need to work hard to succeed.

Finally, the nature of their work would entail some risks. There would be a risk of Sexually Transmitted Diseases and pregnancy, but condoms would be made available as a prophylactic against both. Also, weekly health checks would be arranged to detect any STD early. In the event of infection, they would have a short break to complete a course of antibiotics.

What the girls were keenest to hear about was the opportunity to earn money.


Bar Girl Ch. 01



There would be a salary, but not a lot, most of their income would come from commission earned for sales of drinks. 

First, there were ladies drinks. For each drink bought for them by a customer, they would receive half. 

Secondly, there would be the big earner, bar-fines. If a customer enjoyed a girl's company and wished to take her out for the evening, he could pay up front to compensate the bar for the lost sales the girl would have achieved; she would be released from her employment for the evening and entitled to half the bar-fine in commission. As the patrons of the clubs were keen for companionship, this could happen several times a month. There was no compulsion; they could decline a bar-fine, so, in effect, the girls could choose their own companions. After leaving the club, what a girl and her companion did would be their own business.

Then she touched upon what the girls knew would be the key to their success.

"You girls will like to meet with a foreigner for marriage - correct?"

The girls agreed.

"But, before you can be a wife you must be a girlfriend. So, many of the guys you meet will want a girlfriend, but they may be here for one week only. You must act fast to hook your guy, you must show him you can be a good wife. You must make him happy, and what make a man happy is passion in his bed. Many customers will seek this girlfriend experience, and if you can give this, there is the possibility of generous tips, repeat bar-fines, expensive gifts, well-paid holidays with your companion, sometimes abroad, and, if you are a very good girlfriend for the guy - marriage. So girls, will you accept to provide a girlfriend experience for your customers?"

"It is like I do now," said Girlie.

"Me also," added Amor.

"And me," said Precious, "but Blen is a virgin."

Mama's gaze snapped to Blen. "Is that correct?"

Blen's heart thumped as she suddenly saw this opportunity being snatched away on account of her virginity. "Yes. But I do not want to be. I want to meet the right guy. A foreign guy," she blurted.

Mama placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, her voice becoming light and motherly. "Do not worry. It is not a problem. Many foreign guys prefer a virgin and I will make it my business to help you meet the right guy for you."

When the alarm had faded from Blen's face, Mama continued. "Now, you will all need documents and money for travel and new clothes. I will help you there. I will advance you the credit you will need and you can then pay me back when you start to earn."

"But Mama, will we be safe there?" asked Blen. "Are there bombs? Are there insurgents?" 

"There are no Abu Sayyaf," replied Mama, "There are some NPA, but they never come in Angeles City. There is an international airport and security is good. The government protect the tourists because they bring money to the country. And the President is to set up a special Commission to investigate assassinations, so things will only get better."

Blen, who harboured a deep fear of sudden and arbitrary violence, allowed herself to be reassured because she wanted to be reassured.

A date was set for departure, and the girls went home with hope, ambition and expectation of a better future - their lives utterly transformed. 

The next few weeks were busied with retrieving, or obtaining, birth and baptismal certificates.

A few years back, there had been a notorious incident when the mayor's thirteen-year-old niece had run away to Angeles, and worked there for nine months before being found and hauled back to school. Now, birth certificates were mandatory.

As a result of the flight from Mindanao and the loss of her parents, Blen was an undocumented person, not knowing where she was baptised, or where or if her birth was registered. Mama Mutia was able to arrange these documents from local sources, but at a cost. 

The crushing oppression of provincial life lifted and the final couple of weeks passed in almost unbearable anticipation. Friends and neighbours wished them good luck; the girls forgot their cares, laughed and chatted, and looked forward to life.



Bar Girl Ch. 02



Chapter 2. "Girlopolis."

Angeles City, America, and "the Girlfriend Experience." Talent Spot. Opportunities and city life. Luke, Tyson, and Blen's first Blow-job. Mr Hirohito. 

The story of how Angeles City became a world-renowned hospitality destination is complicated, resulting from the juxtaposition of wealth and poverty - wealthy men and poor girls. This corrupting mix, which usually results in the prostitution of venal women to desperate men, in Angeles spawned the licensed entertainer and, uniquely, the vaunted 'girlfriend experience'. Colonisation, war, corruption and poverty rarely produce anything of worth, but, exceptionally, in Angeles City, it did. 

Following the outbreak of the Spanish American War in 1898, the Philippines Republican government withdrew before the invading Americans along the northern railway, temporarily to Angeles, and then to Tarlac. An army camp was established at Angeles, bringing large numbers of single young men there for first time. These lonely, sexually active young men were exposed to poor, sexually active Filipina girls, and each grew to appreciate the virtues of the other.

In 1917 aircraft hangers were built at the site of the base. In 1919, a dedicated airstrip was laid out, and the 3rd Aero Squadron formed. The airbase became the central pillar for the defence of the Philippines. On the outbreak of WW2 Japanese bombers flying from Taiwan caught all the American aircraft lined up on the ground and destroyed them. 

The Japanese occupied Clark Field from 1942 to January 1945 and from nearby Mabalacat operated their Kamikaze squadrons. 

After the war, in 1946, the Philippines became independent for the second time. Clark Field however, remained a sovereign American base. The municipality of Angeles became a City, Angeles City, and subsequently expanded to become the city it is today. In 1956, Philippine sovereignty over the air base was acknowledged, but to little effect, owing to Visiting Forces Agreements.

During the Vietnam War, from 1964, Clark Field became an important logistics and support base in for their combat forces.

From this period, Angeles City became a popular rest and recreation facility for the combatants. The many young, single men created a demand for drink and girls, which led to a proliferation of hotels and bars along Perimeter Road, down and around Fields Avenue, along MacArthur Highway, and on to Mabalacat.

The bars became a magnet for girls who wished to meet and marry American men. Angeles City received a major economic impetus from providing services to the base, and, of course, services to the service men. It became a huge centre, dependent on the hospitality industry, and local businesses, politicians and functionaries made comfortable livings from it. As a public health measure a Hygeine department was set up to register hospitality workers and test them weekly for STD's. Their registered ID could be produced to tourists as an assurance of quality.

Angeles gained notoriety as a resort for single men.

The American's had required a certain standard of service, quality and price, including the girlfriend experience, and the marriage minded Filipinas had the disposition to provide it. Many Rest and Recreation romances resulted in marriage. This produced a win-win scenario. After Pinatubo, and the closure of Clark Base, the hospitality trade slowly rebuilt itself over the next twenty years, widening its client base to Australia and Europe, then Asia, but preserving its unique ethos. Fun and raucous girly bars have slowly given way to more sophisticated, nightclub venues and value hotels to luxury hotels. 

The hospitality industry in Angeles City continues to be a major economic force, providing employment directly and in construction, and channels large amounts of overseas investment into the economy. The girls who entertain in the clubs, and provide the municipally regulated and quality controlled girlfriend experience for the visitor, are as much front line heroes of the Philippine economy as the lauded Overseas Worker, but without the recognition.

For now, much of the fun, the friendly atmosphere, and the opportunity for an advantageous marriage, still survives in venues like Talent Spot.

The twenty-four hour journey by boat and coach proved an exhilarating adventure for girls who had never travelled further than ten miles from their barangay. It was but a small step on the cultural journey which arrival in Angeles City would entail.

For that first night Mama Mutia took them to her own house, telling them that, tomorrow, she would take them to their permanent accommodation. She was anxious to put them to work as soon as possible, and enable them to spend their yet unearned wages. 

When rested and refreshed, Mama produced her catalogue and invited the girls to buy toilet essentials, make-up and clothing - on credit. Set free in Aladdin's Cave, they spent eagerly and foolishly, the anguish of payment being postponed to another day. 

A luxuriant shower together followed; a real shower in hot water, with real, scented soap and creamy shampoo that left their hair a lustrous black. When dried off, they spent some time before a mirror, learning how to apply make-up to good effect, and then, less than three hours after they had arrived in Angeles, they were off to Talent Spot, to a new life - a life of work, money and opportunities. 

At a time when, before, they had been extinguishing oil lamps and retiring to bed, they were, now, abroad in Angeles club land, which was raucous, garish and bursting with life. The lights, the music, the street life, the foreigners who frequented the pavements, the street bars and cafes were new and utterly fascinating, but intimidating, to the provincial girls. 

The building that housed the club was modest; appearing unimposing to its customers, nevertheless, it was the most magnificent the girls had ever entered. Ushered through the bar, they felt they were walking onto a film set. The lighting was crazily colourful but dim, the music loud and upbeat, and the air smoky but mercifully dry from the air-conditioning. 

It took a short while for their eyes and ears to adjust. On their left they could see a circle of scantily clad girls, whose reflections appeared in wall and ceiling mirrors in whichever direction they looked, gyrating to the rhythmic music, competing between themselves to catch the attention of the, mostly western, men sat in groups or alone before them. Soon they would join them. 

Mama Mutia led them into the cramped changing area, where they changed for the first time into the boots and costumes bought from her on credit. She inspected and adjusted them, then handed each a licence belonging to an absent girl to clip to their costume.

"Use these tonight. Do not let the customers look at the photo. You will go on with the next set," she told the girls. "Dance like in the disco, enjoy yourself and smile. Look in the mirrored wall to see your look and your dance."

Over the babble of voices raised to pierce the wall of music, Blen could hear her heart beat. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her chest was tight, and she felt dizzy as the minutes to the next set ticked away. Mama Mutia clapped her hands and Blen and her friends, who had attached themselves to end of the line of girls, shuffled on their unaccustomed high heels out to queue at the end of the stage. When the number ended, Mama clapped again, and as the last set filed off at the far end, Blen filed on with the new set, up the steps, onto the stage, into the lights, and across the bridge of no return. She turned, shyly avoided the faces of the couple of customers scrutinising the new line-up, and sought her reflection in the wall mirrors opposite. 

Such was the transformation that she could not at first pick herself out, but like a child noting than when she moved, her reflection moved also, she identified herself. 

What she saw in the mirror surprised, delighted, shocked and fascinated her. The shiny knee length boots, with three-inch heels, made her appear tall and slender. Not only did the heels add three inches to her height, but, to balance in the boots and maintain aplomb, she needed to draw herself straight and erect. Her immediate impression was of one of those catwalk models she had seen on Marisol's TV. 

As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the bar, through her diaphanous camisole she could see that her pert breasts were visible, and that the darted garment accentuated the feminine curve to her flat, exposed waist. From her camisole, suspenders passed vertically down, under the thong clinging tightly to her hips and thighs, to support her black stockings. Around her right thigh clung a red garter.

She could not help but smile with delight at her look. Never had she dreamed she could be so glamorous, appearing to herself the epitome of seduction. Carefully studying the way she danced, she found that moving in half time to the music she was able to maintain her poise and elegance, even in her high-heeled dancing boots. Gradually, she adopted a universally recognised, languorous seductive motion - that stylised courtship display that comes instinctively to teenage girls.

Back in the barangay Blen had felt the impulse to pose and preen when in the company of young men she secretly admired, but had to bottle up the urge. Now, that bottled impulse was uncorked, and she revelled in the freedom, dancing to seek the attention of these desirable foreign men. Absorption in this brief interlude of self-discovery had calmed her jangling nerves, which were smothered by a blanket of elation. Her focus narrowed on the lovely creature she manipulated in the mirror and she exulted in her undulating reflection.

Blen had been on stage only ten minutes when a tap on her leg returned her to the world of nervous confusion.

"What is your name?" asked the waitress, and having been told, continued, "Well Blen, the customer in the blue shirt like to buy you a drink." 

Blen's nerves returned with a shudder and the pitch of her voice rose in panic. "What do I do?" 

The waitress rolled her eyes. "Only go and sit at his table and say Hello." Her tone was deadpan, that of a person unexpectedly having to state the obvious.

Moving slowly to retain her balance, Blen dismounted from the stage and walked to the table where she sat down and smiled. The waitress placed a glass of cola and ice before her, filled out some vouchers, placed one in the customers tab, and gave the other to Blen. "Keep that to claim your commission," she explained. 

Her customer introduced himself and asked her name.

"Blen, Siir," she replied coyly, then tongue-tied, could only smile and leave her customer to lead the conversation. 

He was an Australian, a balding, grey haired man with bright eyes and a direct but pleasant manner. "I haven't seen you before, wer've you been?" he asked. 

English was a very second language to Blen, not used much outside her truncated schooling, and she struggled to understand, taken aback also by the rapidity and ebullience of his speech. But she got the drift. "Me I am a new girl." 

"When d'ja start?" 

"Oh, just today Siir, just now." 

"This dance?" 

"Yes Siir," she confirmed.

"Is that why y'were grinning at y'rself in the mirror?" he teased.

She giggled; embarrassed that it had been noticed. "Yes Siir," she repeated.

"Did y'like what y'saw?" 

She giggled again, and drew her shoulders up around her neck, but made no reply. 

"I like what you saw. When you smiled I thought to myself, I'm going to fuck that girl." 

Blen giggled some more, uneasily this time, her smile wan. Such suddenness and frankness shocked her.

Seeing her unease, he changed tack. "Don't mind me, I'm just a loud mouth who speaks his mind, but y'are a lovely girl, and I like to fuck lovely girls. Wer're y'from?" 

As he began the slow process of eliciting her story, the waitress who sat nearby, slipped away. 

Moments later, Mama Mutia appeared beside the table. "Hello Luke, you have met Blen."

"Hi Mutia, yeah me and Blen are friends already." 

"Blen is a cherry girl you know."

He turned to Blen, "A cherry? Is that right?" 

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. 

"And so beautiful," he added. 

"You can bar-fine her, but no boom-boom," Mama Mutia cautioned, "unless, you'd like to buy her cherry!" 

Luke was dismissively casual. "Oh, I can't afford cherries, and I can't afford bar-fine with no boom-boom." 

Mutia turned to Blen. "Luke's a regular customer. You will see a lot of him. Take him to the back booth. If you give him a blow-job he will give you a big tip." She turned to Luke, adding, "Won't you?" 

" 'Strewth, a blow-job from a cherry girl, that's worth a few dollars."

Barely were the words spoken than the waitress had lifted the drinks and tab-jar from the table, and was bearing them off to the rear. Luke stood, and followed. For a moment, Blen sat perplexed by what was happening. Mama Mutia took her by the arm and led her after Luke.

In Bisaya she instructed, "Give Luke a good time. This is your first customer, and Luke is a good one, do not go too fast, keep him happy and he will tip well." 

"What do I do?" 

"Just make him happy for half an hour, go under the table and give him a blow-job, but tease him first."

The waitress seated them in the booth, called out, "Party time!" and pulled the curtains. 

Luke sat back in his seat and cocked his head, wide-eyed, ready to admire her unsheathed charms. "Let me look at you. Take off your camisole."

Since reaching puberty at the age of thirteen, and thereby losing the capacity to be both naked and innocent at the same time, Blen had modestly guarded her budding breasts and sparse pubic hair from the eyes of others. She did not feel shame, but she understood her naked body was a billboard, advertising her availability. The camisole was a coy fig-leaf, taming and attenuating the message, but with it removed, her body would brazenly shout its invitation to feast on her. 

With heart fluttering and hands quivering, she slipped the shoulder straps of her camisole down her arms and lifted it off. Head bowed and shoulders hunched she sat tensely, staring at her fig-leaf gripped in her hands, pushing away distracting thoughts and mentally preparing herself like an athlete about to compete.

"Sit up, and show me that lovely smile," said Luke.

Blen took a deep breath, embraced her new life, lifted her shoulders, jutted her breasts, raised her chin, and looking Luke in the eyes, dazzled him with her smile.

He beamed lustfully back, and thus rewarded, she relaxed while his admiring eyes made a leisurely pass over her body, the delighted grin on his face telegraphing his satisfaction. 

"Y'know y'have a lovely body. No bullshit. Y'have. In Aus I only see bodies like that, in wank mags." 

She did not quite understand, but she could see and hear that he liked what he saw, and felt flattered. He reached over and stroked her left breast, the touch of his work-hardened fingers unfamiliar against her skin, but not unpleasing. He pulled and milled her nipples in turn. Whatever Blen might have thought, they had a mind of their own and stiffened in response. 

"Do you like that?" 

Blen sat silent. 

"Do you like that?" he insisted. 

Her faltering voice returned. "Yes Siir ... I ... I like it." 

"Come and sit next to me." 

When she settled, he took hold of her hand, placed it on his groin, and began to rub up and down. "Do y'know what that is?" 

She giggled and nodded. Having consented to touch a few youthful boyfriends in this manner, she was familiar with the feel of manly excitement in her hand.

"It's my one eyed monster, his name is Tyson, I named him after my dog, the randy bugger, I'll introduce you in a minute. This is good ... keep rubbing." 

His groin swelled, grew long and hardened under her hand, until his trouser tented so much it filled her hand, and she could feel its length and girth. The same had happened with the two or three boys she had consented to give a hand-job back in the barangay.

"Tyson wants to come out to play, why don't you let him out?" 

Blen looked puzzled. Luke mimed unzipping and releasing his penis and pointed to his groin. She understood. Pulling down his zip, she reached in, pulled away his shorts, and freed Tyson from the pants. Tyson sprang to a rubbery attention. 

"Do you know how I do that?" 

"How Siir?" Blen asked. 

"Viagra." 

"Viagra?" she echoed, quizzically. 

"Yes Viagra. I'm good for twelve hours and I'm going to use it tonight. It's Tyson's birthday and you're his first present."

"First? So, how many presents, Siir?" 

"He'll be the filling in a Filipina sandwich tonight. I'm taking two girls out. He'll be like this 'til lunch tomorrow." 

Luke wrapped her hand around Tyson and moved it up and down, then left her to continue. "Not too fast, not too hard, just keep him interested, don't want any accidents." 

The boys at home had wanted her to pump hard and fast, and to bring them to ejaculation as soon as possible; clearly Luke was going to be different kettle of fish.

He told her a little bit about himself, then asked her to sit in his lap. 

"No. Face towards me. Like this." 

He manoeuvred her so she faced him, with his penis threaded up through her thong and held tight against her pussy. For the first time Blen felt the heat of an engorged penis pressed against her pudenda. As Tyson pulsed gently against her soft intimate flesh Blen noted that a new chapter in her life was now truly beginning.

Pulling her thong away from her belly Luke looked down, "What's this? You've got hair all over yer pussy. What's happened there?"

"It is ... just ... just normality Siir," replied Blen, surprised at his surprise. 

"Oh, I don't like normality, I like bald ... a kalbo kiki. If you came back with me, I'd take me razor to that ... OK, now just grip Tyson with your thighs, and grind yer bum." 

Using hand signs, he soon got her in motion, then leaned forward to lick her breasts and suck her nipples. Aroused by this first simultaneous stimulation of her erogenous zones, the friction of Tyson against her pussy induced a reflexive response, her pussy began to weep, and she felt the desire to abandon herself to her partner's pleasure.

Feeling the dampness, Luke said, "You're enjoying this more than me. You like this don't you?" 

Panting rhythmically, Blen admitted, to herself as well as to Luke, "Yes Siir - I like it - of course." Of course - of course I like it, it is what I dream when I pleasure myself.

From the other side of the curtain, the waitress called, "Next set, ten minutes." 

Luke released Blen from his embrace. "OK, time to give Tyson his birthday present." 

Blen now needed to make the leap from being the passive recipient of Luke's admiration to actively bestowing on him the voluptuous pleasures that were in her gift. It took her a few moments to transition from pleasure receiver to pleasure giver and she unhurriedly disengaged Tyson from her thong, then crouching, slid back under the table and knelt at Luke's lap, fumbling with Tyson. Her face had never been so close to a penis; close enough to feel its heat on her cheek, and smell beneath the deodorant, that manly, musky, exciting smell. She breathed it in deeply, willing herself to enjoy this new experience, and finding no resistance, welcomed the knowledge that it would become a frequent and important part of her life. 

Although, at home there had been much talk of blow-jobs and how to do them, and Blen had listened with interest, she had never had a man in her mouth before, and was not sure how to proceed. She slowly pumped a few times, watching the bell end of Luke's penis being sheathed and unsheathed. Deciding to start with the soft pink, slightly glistening, skin immediately below the bell, she extended her tongue to gently lick it, her tongue sliding easily over the soft, warm flesh. When she withdrew her tongue into her mouth, she appreciated the slightly salt and savoury taste. Holding him like a cornet, she began to lick around its base, as though eating an ice cream.




Bar Girl Ch. 02



Seeing her uncertainty, Luke guided her through the sequence of a good blow-job. "You must look into my eyes. Always look into yer customer's eye. Lick me balls, and suck 'em first, nice and wet, nice and slow, start slow, more vigour later." 

Grateful for the guidance, Blen followed his instructions with care. Their eyes locked, and with deliberation, she began to learn her trade. His eyes would brighten when she applied herself to a pleasure point, and she quickly discovered which arts provoked the best effect. Using this feedback, she honed her ministrations to maximise his pleasure.

"Get it right into your mouth, as far as you can, right to the back," Luke instructed.

Blen drew him to her mouth, and opened up to envelop Tyson, surprised at how wide she needed to open her jaws to admit him. Lining her head along his erection she allowed him to slide back to touch the entrance to her throat. 

This was another new experience. Her mouth was completely full, the fullest it had ever been, encasing Luke's penis so tightly that to breathe, she sucked air effortfully through her nose, bathing in his intimate scent. To hold in Tyson, who was warm, alive, and twitched, she closed her lips and sucked, and she noted how perfectly he fitted into her mouth, how he lay naturally on the cushion of her tongue, which easily accommodated itself to its shape like a foot fitting into a well-worn, favourite shoe. The smooth, circular muscles of her lips, and her rough agile tongue, were ideally suited to gently grip and pleasingly caress Tyson, and Blen began to experiment, savouring his taste and texture.

For all their talk, the girls back in the barangay had not described this perfect match of tools to material - and she realised how much better than her vagina, her mouth was adapted to pleasuring a penis. In that moment she understood that, for bestowing the pleasure her customers would seek, her mouth, tongue and lips would be an incomparable tool-set.

"Suck gently, use your lips, wank me with your lips, right up my knob," Luke directed, "then gently graze your teeth over me bell."

Blen followed his instruction conscientiously, looking into his eyes, looking for those small contortions and little sighs, which signalled his particular appreciation. Making sure to repeat what he liked on each cycle, quickly learning to vary her sequence unpredictably, she soon slowed down the flow of instructions from Luke, and finally he expressed only his appreciation.

"Yes ... good ... that's very good ... that's it," he breathed jerkily.

Finally, he tensed with excitement, and panted urgently. "I'm gonna' squirt. Open yer mouth." 

He gaped his mouth in instruction. She mimicked him, and he jerked briskly until he ejaculated five or six successive pearlescent streaks, which laid a crazy lattice across her face. 

He relaxed back into his seat. "Very pretty. Now you look very pretty. Look in the mirror." 

Blen drew herself out from under the table, and looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bench seats. The criss-crossed steaks of sperm began to slide down her face leaving glistening trails, and she could understand why this profuse evidence of his manhood pleased him.

"That was good ... definitely good." His voice now mellow; he used his finger to scoop gobbets of semen from her face into her mouth, indicating that she should swallow. "Tell me what that tastes like." 

She did, and nodded approvingly.

"When a guy asks you if you spit or swallow, what should you say?" 

Blen pondered for a moment. "I do not know, Siir."

"Always, swallow. Guys prefer girls who swallow.

Tell me now; was that your first blow-job?" 

"Yes Siir, I did not do it before," she admitted. 

"Well, you did well, very well, I'll be back for more. Here - ," he pulled a 500-peso note from his roll, "that's for giving Tyson ye'r cherry mouth for his birthday." 

"Blen!" It was Mama Mutia's voice calling from beyond the curtain. 

"My time's up. Gotta go, but I'll see you again," said Luke. 

Mama Mutia pulled back the curtain. "Did you enjoy yourself?" 

Luke congratulated Mama. "Bloody well did, I'll be back for more of that. I owe you one, good steer. Blen's a great find."

As he left, Blen started to pull on her camisole, but Mama intervened. "Leave that. The customer will like you like that. Roll your stockings down to your boots." She showed her how. Looking into Blen's face, Mama broke into a grin. "I can see Luke enjoy himself - there are his cum on your face." She chuckled. "How much do he give?" 

Blen showed the 500-peso-note. 

"Good. You gave good service, and tell me true, did you enjoy to give it?"

"Yes Mama ... I enjoy," Blen replied tentatively.

"Truly. Not only like to earn. Do you enjoy to blow-job?"

"Yes. It excite me to do it," admitted Blen.

"Me also. It excite me," said Mama, "but it will not excite all girls, so it is a gift, and you can earn for it. Now I have another customer I think you will suit. Wash your face, brush your teeth, and come back dress like this." 

"Another oready."

She had worked for less than an hour and Blen was surprised at the rapidity with which she had been initiated into her new life, and was moving from her first to her second customer.

"We have many customer who ask me for a good girl, and I think maybe you will a good girlfriend for a customer to enjoy. Quick now." Mama was brisk, keen to make the most of her new asset.

As she cleaned her face, and brushed her teeth, Blen reflected on her first blow-job, considering she had done well, and surprised and pleased how well Nature had equipped her for this task. Of all the ways Nature has provided for men and women to give each other joy, she guessed this must be the best. The insistent pleas of the youths she had dismissed with a flick of the wrist were now much more understandable.

Looking in the mirror at her lips, she pursed and extended them, and for the first time observed them through their full range of mobility. Next, she opened her mouth and performed a similar exercise with her tongue. Her young lips and tongue were plump, and pink, and pretty, and she was determined to employ them to a better and more profitable end than forming waspish words and crushing put-downs. They were designed to communicate pleasantries and pleasure but it seemed to her, they could communicate best in silence.

When Blen returned, there was a gentleman of about seventy sitting in the booth. Mama Mutia took her by the hand, whispered, "Smile," and turned her towards the gentleman, waving her hand in front of Blen in demonstration. 

Blen beamed at him, he beamed back, and bowed.

"He is Japanese, Mr Hirohito," Mama Mutia explained, "He speak no Tagalog or English. Just nod and smile, he like to talk. He will order a drink as soon as you will empty your glass, so empty it every ten minute. Make him feel comfortable and happy." 

"OK Mama, I know." She stepped into the booth and the curtains closed.

As instructed, Blen nodded and smiled, and emptied her glass. Not knowing quite what Mr Hirohito required, she decided to follow the route outlined by Luke. As the one sided conversation continued, she moved next to Mr Hirohito, massaged his groin, freed his penis and with some persistence, brought it erect. She then moved into his lap, facing him, with his penis pinned against her pussy by her thong, pulled his face to her breast and offered her nipples to his mouth. This silenced him for a short period, but she continued to nod and smile. Finally, she climbed under the table, fixed his eyes with hers, and using them as her guide sought out his pleasure points. 

Gradually his penis grew firmer, and his conversation more intermittent. Sensing him twitch, she opened her mouth, threw back her head and pumped his penis faster and faster, 'till it expelled a watery jet. She swallowed, and smiled, then tidied him away, and sat back in his lap, stroking and kissing him, nodding and smiling, emptying her glass. 

Still, Mr Hirohito talked on, now in a more animated tone, but looking very happy. Eventually, he indicated he wished to stand. He pulled three notes from his wallet, placed two in his tab-jar and tucked the other in the top of Blen's thong. As he walked off, Mama Mutia passed. He raised his arms and said something no one understood. She stood staring at Blen in surprise.

"What is it?" Blen was confused.

"You have cum on your face, ... but Mr Hirohito like only to talk." 

Blen pulled the note from her thong and held it up. 1000 pesos!

Blen alone, returned with Mama Mutia when the club closed at 2.00 am. All three friends had been bar-fined and Mama Mutia was pleased. 

"Tomorrow we must discuss your cherry," she said as they parted for bed.

As she lay, too excited to sleep, Blen counted her two notes over and over again. She felt so wealthy. 1500 pesos in her hand, and another 750 owed in ladies drinks and wages. This was wealth beyond her expectations, beyond her fantasies. The night before last, she had gone to bed destitute and undesired. Tonight, she would fall asleep a wealthy and desirable woman, no longer the village drab in torn T-shirt and worn flip-flops fit only to work in the fields for her food. Now, she was the beautiful creature she had seen in the mirror, a valued asset to her employer, and an object of desire to her customers. She was convinced that with conscientious work her life, and that of her sister and family, could be very good.



Bar Girl Ch. 03



Chapter 3. "Virginity Contract."

Credit, debt, and the contract for the sale of Blen's cherry. Two-finger test. The lady-house. Gary. Precious and Klaus.

The next day, at 10.30am Blen was shaken awake by Mama Mutia, five hours later than the hour she was accustomed to rise. She joined the other girls in the kitchen. Girlie, Amor and Precious were anxious to exchange tales of their first day of work; all had cash in their pockets, and wages and commission to come.

"My customer will come to barfine me again tonight," boasted Girlie.

"Well, my customer has given my barfine already and ask me to return to his hotel as soon as possible," countered Precious.

Amor had not lucked out. "My guy will come to see me before he go home" 

Blen laid out her two notes, totalling 1500 pesos."This is my tips for last night," she said proudly.

"Have you sell your cherry already?" cried Girlie.

"Noooo ... it is only two blow-jobs," she told her disbelieving friends.

They agreed all foreigners were open-handed millionaires and they would make a fortune.

Mama Mutia brought them back to earth. "You have one first night only. Customers like new girls, but now you must work hard, you must develop regular customers, that is how to earn steady money. And now you are earning you must start to pay back your credit, so I have prepared your accounts." 

She handed each girl a piece of paper. As they looked at the papers, gasps of shock filled the room.

Blen was astonished. "22,242 pesos, I owe that money."

"Of course. Remember I have pay for your birth certificate. You have never been register. I get your birth certificate. I have pay your travel. You have buyed your costume and many nice things from my catalogue, and with the first months interest of 12 ½ % that is what you owe. You can go through the account and check. That is why I give it to you. But do not worry. Now you work, pay it off quick as you can, that way you will not pay so much interest."

Girlie owed 12,742p, and Amor 16,540p. Suddenly, their earnings of last night were put in perspective.

"If you work hard, you keep more commission," Mama explained. "If you exceed 100 ladies drinks a month, that is three a night, you get 60% instead of 50%, that is an extra 500p or more. If you exceed 10 bar-fines a month, that is one night in three, you get 60% instead of 50%, that is an extra 900 pesos or more. You will work fifteen days and then one off, so you will get two days off a month. But, remember, when you go bar-fine it is like a night off, and your customer will buy your food and drink; give good service and you will get lots of breaks.

"Now, you did well last, night, just keep it up. Precious have a bar-fine already. Girlie, you expect your customer to bar-fine you out again tonight, so you are fix up. Amor, you will go back dancing also, but you already know how to treat a customer. Blen, you cannot go boom-boom until some guy will buy your cherry, so you will be my special blow-job girl. 

"But also, I have a proposal concerning your cherry. Your cherry fee will maybe clear your credit, but maybe not, and with interest, you will owe more each month. I like to clear your credit today, but in return, I am the one to arrange your partner to take your cherry."

"I do not understand that," said Blen, "how much is a cherry fee?"

"It could be 10,000 or it could be 30,000. It all depend. But you do well last night. You are a good girl. I think we can be a team on this, so I would like to share with you. I will take a chance. I think you can be a popular girl, I think I can trust you, so I will take a chance and give you 22,242 pesos for your cherry, right now," Mama told her.

"And what happen next? Do I not pick the guy?" 

"No, I will choose," said Mama Mutia. "This will be business. We will have a contract. I will pay you a lot of money, so I will make all the arrangements. It will be my job to make a profit. Think of it like an arranged marriage, like the Muslims have. You will marry for just one night, and after that you can choose any guy, and as many as you like."

Blen paused briefly to assess the situation. While she would prefer to choose the man - her fantasy was that some foreigner would fall in love with her, and she with him, and he would buy her cherry - there was this unimaginably large debt accruing interest at 12 ½ % a month. In three months, it would grow by a third, and that would mean she could not pay off the debt, even if she received 30,000p. Three months was a very short period to meet Mr Right. She could try to pay the debt from her earnings but, after rent and food, how much would there be for her to send home? The debt seemed completely unbearable. She made up her mind.

"OK Mama, it is best if I sell to you." 

"That is a good deal. We can cancel your credit right now." 

Mama opened her ledger and took a document from the back, filled in some names and dates, then came to sit beside Blen, placing the document in front of her. "This is the contract form. It is a standard management contract. I will read it to you and you can read it as I go." 

She read out loud, slowly and deliberately:

"I , Blen Baitan, being of full age, declare that I am a virgin with intact hymen, and freely and irrevocably assign to Mutia Patacsil, for the sum of 22,242, pesos, all rights to appoint the time, occasion and means by which my hymen will be breached and my status as a virgin brought to an end, together with the right to keep, sell, assign or otherwise dispose of such right by private treaty, public auction, or otherwise (the Rights). I agree to cooperate in all ways with Mutia Patacsil to perform my obligation under this contract, and further agree to any examination necessary to confirm my status as virgin by any person Mutia Patacsil shall nominate. If at any time before performance of my obligations, such examination shall disclose that my hymen is ruptured and I no longer hold the status of virgin, this contract will be void, and all monies credits and benefits received by me under this contract, and in addition the sum of 10,000 pesos, or such other certain sum as may have been offered for purchase of the Rights, shall be payable, with compound interest accrued at 15% of the full amount due, per month or part of a month, from today's date to the date of full repayment of the amount due."

"Then there is a space for you and me to sign, and a certificate of virginity signed by two witnesses. They will be Girlie and Amor," added Mama.

"How do we know that?" asked Amor who had no reason to believe Blen was not a virgin but, so far as she knew, there may have been some, un-confessed, possibly shameful, event. 

"We will examine Blen before we sign. That is the next thing we do," said Mama. "Do you understand that you are selling me your cherry rights, and you must do what I tell you to help me to sell them, Blen?" 

"Yes I do."

"Mama set about making the arrangements. "We can use the table, and some cushions." She fetched a camera and a newspaper. "First, I want you girls to look at something. Come over to the computer."

She Googled 'Hymen' and clicked on 'Images.' The screen filled with illustrations of vaginas, opened to display the vaginal entrance. She indicated several images.

"These are photos of women who have lose their cherry. See how wide the entrance to their vagina is. Now look here," she indicated some others, "these are virgins. You see the entrance is narrow, and obstructing it is this tattered white skin. It can be more or less complete, but you can still see it there. It may have a hole, big enough for your finger, or maybe two if you try." She pointed again at the images. "Me, Precious and Amor are not virgins, our vaginas are like this, and Blen's will look like this - if she is a virgin. 

"Now we play, I show you mine if you show me yours. I will go first, then Girlie, then Amor - then we will compare our own with Blen's."

"Why do you want to see our pussies also?" objected Amor.

"It will also be an exercise," Mama explained. "I want you girls to learn to be bold. In our work we must be bold to earn well. Some girls are happy to take only ladies drinks and remain cherries while they seek a husband. I like you girls to be business girls and take your work serious. It is necessary to be bold."

She slipped off her briefs, lifted herself onto the table, pulled a cushion under her hips to raise them, and drew her knees back and apart. "Blen, hold my vagina open, like on the computer, for Girlie and Amor to look."

Blen had never touched female genitals other than her own before, and she moved cautiously and gently, as if handling something precious and fragile. Mama felt softer and fleshier than her own body; her labia were large and dry and gripping them in her fingers she drew them apart, peeling her vagina open.

"Pull more ... make it open so they can see inside," urged Mama.

Blen pulled on Mama's elastic labia until they would stretch no further, and her vagina gaped wide. 

"Do you see what image are like me?" Mama prompted.

The girls laughed. 

"No, you are not a virgin," said Amor. 

Mama's vagina was much bigger, fatter, and generally disorderly than those on the computer, but most obviously, she had a capacious entrance, which appeared continuous with her inner labia.

"Amor, press your fingers into my vagina."

Amor hesitated.

"Do not be shy. You must learn to be familiar with the private parts of men, but women also may request service, so learn how they look and what to do with them. It will all help you earn. The more you know, the better you can work."

Amor placed her fingers into the entrance of Mama's vagina while Blen stretched it wide.

"Fold in your thumb ... that is it ... how many is it in?"

"All my fingers."

"Keep to push. Push ... push more."

The girls saw Amor's hand slide easily into Mama's body and then sink in up to the wrist.

Girlie was in awe, she had not expected Amor's hand to penetrate so easily. "But her hand is so big, does it not hurt?" 

"This is another lesson. NO, it is not too big; in fact it is very pleasant. The head of a baby has pass through my vagina. That is the size of the baton you can accept. So, no man's penis is too big for you, but always tell your customer you think he is. When you have had children your vagina become slack so it is a pleasant part of lovemaking if your husband use his fist to make the same feelings he make with his penis when you are newly wed. The vagina of a virgin can only accept a finger or two. That is the two finger test ..

... Girlie. Now, you come on the table."

Girlie replaced Mama Mutia, who indicated that Blen should now hold Girlie's vagina open. Blen gingerly held apart her old friend's somewhat firmer and more moist lips to reveal a much more compact opening.

"It look very different," Mama noted, "but the entrance is quite large, there is no hymen ... and if I try my fingers, and my thumb, I can put them all in quite easily ... See?" 

Girlie jumped a little as Mama wriggled her fingers, then her thumb into her vagina.

When she settled Mama gently pressed on. "Now if I push a little ... there ... it will go right in, but it hold my hand quite tight. Now, if I make a fist..." Mama's hand was enveloped to the base of her thumb, and the margin of Girlie's vagina stretched in a tight red 'O' around the base of her hand.

"Is it comfortable?"

"Yeees ... it is ... I am surprise."

"Is it pleasant?"

"Yes Mama ... Pleasant also."

She withdrew her hand. "You have a very nice vagina Girlie. Now change with Amor." 

Mama helped Amor arrange herself on the table.

When Girlie saw Amor's pubis, she gasped. "What has happen? Where is your hair?" 

"My customer ... he take it ... it is his preference ... he like a remembrance," Amor replied coyly. 

"With experience, you girls will know how your customer prefer," said Mama. "Now Blen, as before."

Blen opened Amor, who was neat and compact like Girlie, and under Mama Mutia's direction, Girlie managed to ease her hand in, to be hugged snugly, as predicted.

"Is it pleasant for you?" asked Mama.

"I ... think so," said Amor.

"I will convince you," said Mama.

She took hold of Girlie's wrist and started to gently pump her hand while rubbing a forefinger over Amor's clitoris. Amor flinched.

"This is how it is done ... Is that better?"

"Yes ... Yes ... it is better ... you can stop Mama," gasped Amor.

But Mama continued. "We will finish. I want you to show me your orgasm."

"Mama... Mama," pleaded Amor, but Mama continued. 

Blen watched as Amor fell silent and fell back, submitting to her senses. Eventually she writhed, grunted and bucked her hips, and Mama stopped.

"Do you see? Amor has been bold, and has received a little reward for her boldness. That is a lesson for you all."

That completed, it was Blen's turn.

"Will you need to see my orgasm also," asked Blen.

"We will see. I will need to give YOUR pussy a special treatment, then you can choose," said Mama, "but first the test. We can now compare our vaginas with yours. Please get on the table and make yourself comfortable." 

Blen was apprehensive. She had never inspected herself closely in that region, and was not sure how she looked. Girlie's and Amor's vaginas were very pretty, and she was afraid hers might turn out to be the ugly duckling. When she was in position, she felt the touch of Mama Mutia's hands, and sensed her body opened for the other girls' inspection. 

The girls saw full-skirted labia that ran round her vaginal entrance and joined at the base to form a shallow tube. As Mama tugged them open, they spread into classic bat-wings. The margins were dark brown and crinkled; inside they were pale pink and shiny. The other girls had half skirt labia; their vaginas were cropped and neat, concealed within their outer pubic lips. Blen more resembled Mama, whose labia were full and generous, and looked as though they had been pressed down into a vagina which was too small to contain them, so the compressed lips protruded like clothes from an over-packed suitcase. Mama's vagina was set in a plump, towering vulva, whereas Blen's vulva was lean, if not bony, and her lips spread sideways, like butterfly's wings unfolding for the first time. 

The most obvious difference between her and the others was a thin, pale sheath below her urethra which stretched across the narrow entrance to her vagina. In the centre was a neat circular hole a few millimetres wide, giving it the appearance of a squashed polo mint. 

Mama Mutia, pleased with her purchase, pointed to the small white seal of virginity imprinted on Blen's vagina. "That is the hymen. Blen's is the prettiest I have seen, much less tattered than those on the computer." 

Blen was relieved. She would not disappoint any customers who wished to inspect her intimate parts.

Mama then inserted a finger through the centre. It stretched. She then inserted a second. Blen could feel the unfamiliar touch against her vaginal walls, which contracted gently with pleasure to cling to Mama Mutia's fingers.

"Now you girls try, but do not push hard, we do not want to tear her hymen."

Girlie, then Amor repeated what Mama Mutia had done, and to her embarrassment Blen's vagina welled up into a syrupy mess.

"That is good ... if you respond easily to the touch," Mama assured her.

She then asked Girlie and Amor, "Is Blen's vagina different to ours?"

"Yes, we can see her hymen," said Girlie.

"Do you find her vagina tight for two fingers?"

"Yes. Blen is a cherry girl," said Amor.

"Then we can all sign. But first I need photo evidence. I need to prepare you for the photo, Blen." Mama produced a vibrator, which buzzed into life when twisted. 

Blen had heard of such devices, but not seen one, and she eyed this mechanical mosquito suspiciously.

"This will feel very pleasant, just relax and let yourself respond." She applied the end of the vibrator to Blen's clitoris and moved in small, firm circles. 

Blen, jumped a little at the sensation of her intimate flesh moving with a rapid and penetrating vibration. "Ahhh, it is tickling."

"Just relax and wait it a few seconds."

Blen relaxed and waited for these unnatural motions to take effect. Sure enough, after ten or fifteen seconds the tickle gave way to a deep and powerful stimulation; her eyes widened. "Ohhh Mama." It felt as though someone had taken hold of her clitoris and was shaking it violently, sending microwaves of pleasure radiating down and out from her fluttering labia.

"It feels good now?" asked Mama.

"Oooohhh Mama." said Blen.

Mama continued until Blen's face coloured, and she began to strain against the vibrator. She used the vibrator to coat her clitoris, labia and outer lips with her copious vaginal secretions. Blen's pussy was tumescent, red and glistening, ready for her photos.

"Do you like to show us your orgasm, or do I stop," Mama teased.

"Do not stop ... Do not stop," sighed Blen.

"Watch," she told Amor and Girlie. "This is how to use a vibrator." 

She skillfully used her experience to bring Blen to a convulsing orgasm.

"There, you also have a nice orgasm," she told Blen, "but now my photos."

Girlie and Amor were positioned on either side, and told to take a vaginal lip each, and pull Blen's vagina open as wide as possible to display her exceptional labia. Filling the frame of her camera with Blen's vagina, Mama took several shots, some with flash, some without, reviewing each photo. Standing back, she told Blen to lean forward and hold up the newspaper with the date visible, and the two girls to lean in towards her.

"OK girls, this is also the shot I will use for the promo, so give me your best come-on smile." She took several photos. "And again ... And again ... And again." 

A dozen shots were necessary to ensure she had the picture she wanted. "Now we are done. Come and look at the photos." 

They gathered around as Mama transferred the memory card from camera to computer. Opening the files, she scrolled through the pictures. "This is your pussy. Can you see your hymen?" 

"Ahhh yes. I can see." Blen also noticed the plump crimson cushion, framed by glinting pink wings, on which it was presented, like a jewel laid before a king.

"And here is the witness shot."

This picture comprised three beaming faces framing Blen's gaping vagina, blush pink and puffy, with the pale, taut hymen, enclosed in labia still glossy with the slippery shine of love dew. This photo had a magnetic quality, which held the eyes of those who beheld it. 

A quiet moment ensued while the three girls admired it, entranced by its sensuality.

"That is your fortune Blen. If you are wise, it will bring you great pleasure, and great wealth." Mama's unspoken expectation was that it would also bring her great wealth.

"I really hope it," said Blen optimistically, still enchanted by the sensual tableau secreted between her thighs.

The contract was then signed by Blen and Mama Mutia as parties, and Girlie and Amor, as witnesses.

"I will give you a photocopy of the contract later, and from now you must protect your virginity. You must be careful when you masturbate. No toys. Do not put your fingers into your pussy, just rub outside, and especially, do not let customers finger your pussy. I will show you what to do tonight."

That formality finished, the girls packed their few belongings, and those of Precious, and Mama Mutia took them to the lady-house where they would live. She summoned a trike, a motorcycle with a high roofed sidecar attached. 

Sitting in the trike, Blen felt a little uneasy but elated. She had enjoyed all the attention paid to her pussy and felt that Mama had singled her out for special favour. The health, vitality and erotic potential emanating from the images of her vagina had pleased and aroused her. She looked upon that part of her body with new prestige. After all, she thought, how many girls had their pussy photographed, and incorporated in legal documents.




Bar Girl Ch. 03



The route to the lady-house took them parallel to Fields Avenue, the epicentre of the Balibago entertainment district. Talent Spot was situated on Fields, and could be seen from the contra-flow road. 

Mama pointed it out. "There is Talent Spot. You will see how near you will be. You can walk there easily." 

A little after the nightclub was obscured from view, the trike turned right on MacArthur Highway, then almost immediately, across it into a side road. Shortly they entered a volcanic ash road lined by masonry walled houses. The trike finally turned into a narrow opening between lots, and arrived in a small courtyard edged by small dwellings, where children played, and girls and women sat in plastic chairs supervising lines of drying washing. As they alighted, some of the girls called and waved to Mama. 

Mama introduced Blen and her friends. "These are our new girls. They will be staying here."

Waves and greetings were exchanged, and they entered the lady-house. The ground floor consisted of one living room, the sala, with table, chairs and a sofa, all in bamboo. In a front corner on a small table stood a small television showing a games show.

"You can cook here," said Mama, showing them an alcove at the rear with a well used, two ring, gas cooker, a sink, and storage cupboards. Next to the alcove was a door, which she opened to reveal a lavatory and shower. "Here you shower. Now come upstairs, and I will show you your room." She led them up the staircase, which stood opposite the front door. 

There was a landing off which opened two rooms. She showed them into the one immediately at the top of the stairs. It contained a double bed, which took up a great deal of the floor space and faced a jalousied window. On it lay two sleeping girls. Against the far wall stood a row of six lockers, and three chairs hung with clothing were against the wall inside the door. 

"This will be your room. You will share with Marivic and Anabel." 

The sleeping girls began to stir. 

"Be careful not to disturb each other when you sleep. We sleep in the day because we work at night, often only three or four because some will be bar-fine. I will give you a key for a locker. Always lock up your belongings when you go out. If you do not lock things up, and they go missing, you can only blame yourself." 

The girls marvelled. Beds, showers, electricity and a television, and they would live there.

"We will go downstairs and sign your tenancy agreement." The tour had concluded.

At the bamboo table, Mama produced a form for each girl to sign. "There is a deposit of 1000p and the rent is 1000p a month in advance. That is 2000p. If you do not have that now that is not a problem. This is my lady-house, all the girls here are from Talent Spot, so I can add 2000p to your credit and you can repay me from your commission." 

None of them had 2000p, so a further 2000p was added to their credit. 

Blen, who had cleared her credit an hour earlier owed 2000p, more than the 1500p she had in her pocket and which seemed so much last night.

How easy it is to get in debt when you have a job, she thought. 

The forms were signed and each was given a locker key. 

When all the formalities were finished, Mama broached the girls' first additional earning opportunity. "Are you girls interested in earning an extra 500p tomorrow?"

"I am, Mama." Amor was keen.

All the others added their agreement.

"Monday is Labor Day in the USA and the Americans like to celebrate. Tomorrow there will be a pool party at Poco Jo's pool. Talent Spot enters a team in the Pool Show. If you will take part, it is an extra 500p for three or four hours of fun."

The girls murmured their consent. 

"I will pick you up at midday tomorrow. This evening, come in with the other girls at about half-past-six; in time to change and be ready for your first set, at seven." With that, she left.

Amor wailed, "18540p, I owe 18540p, I am never gonna pay that." 

One of the resident girls came over. "Did you come from Mama's province?" 

" Yes, we come with her yesterday."

"Mama brings some girls every year, then you owe her money, and she ask you favours to clear your credit."

"Favours! What favours?" asked Amor. 

"It depend. 18000p is a big favour." 

"And how much will we earn, only for working in the bar?" 

"2500p a month, basic. The commission, in the high-season months, can be 15000p, in the off-season maybe just 1500p. Now it is off-season, we do not have many customers. After rent, you will have only two or three thousand pesos."

"And how much will be my interest for my credit?" Amor began to sense she would work just to pay her interest.

Another girl produced a cell phone and tapped. "That is 2781p interest a month you will pay. If you do not pay there is interest on the interest."

"But I will not have enough salary." Amor sounded anguished. 

"Then Mama will ask you a favour instead of interest. You will need to do her a favour. It is high-season in three months, then there are lots of bar-fines, but you cannot choose, if any guy will want you, just go with him, then you can pay your credit in three or four months."

It dawned on the girls that the money they dreamed of sending home, would go instead, to Mama Mutia.

"How much is your credit?" A co-resident nodded to Girlie and Blen. 

"14,742 pesos," said Girlie. 

"Mine is 2000 only," said Blen.

"Really.You are lucky. How did Mama let you accept so little credit?"

Blen hesitated. 

Girlie explained. "Blen is a cherry girl, Mama has buy her cherry so her credit is clear, or it is until we pay for rent." 

The girl feigned an exaggerated shock. "You have sell Mama your cherry?"

Blen nodded.

"You must be very careful. Do not trust Mama, she just want your money."

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a rather morose mood. The girls sat in the living room with their bags, engaged in sporadic conversation and becoming familiar with their new housemates who willingly answered their questions about their new life - through the cynical eyes of seasoned professionals.

When Marivic and Anabel came down to eat and shower in readiness for work they greeted their new bed-sisters, and made them welcome as they stowed their meagre possessions into their lockers. At quarter past six, they left in a group, and by half past, entered Talent Spot.

In the changing room, Mama was supervising the new shift. The girls reported to her, to be recorded present. As the established girls wandered away to change, Amor spoke to Mama.

"Mama, I am concern about my credit, I do not know how I will pay." 

"Girls," said Mama, addressing the group, "You have no reason at all to worry. In the province, your credit sound like a lot of money, but here ... there is lots of money ... and many opportunities. I would not have bring you here if I think you cannot make lots of money. Watch carefully tonight, you will see some of these foreigners take more money out of their pockets to pay their bill, than you owe. That is their pocket change. They have so much money, and they want to spend it on you girls. You have no need to worry at all. I will see that you are alright. Forget about these silly cares. Go and smile, and be happy on stage." 

"I was told I will have to do you a favour," said Amor.

"But it is me who do you a favour, Amor," insisted Mama. "I show you how to be bold. From time to time there are opportunities to make a lot of money ... like the Pool Party, but sometimes a lot more. You only need to be bold girls. I already have some ideas, and I will certainly offer the chance first to you girls because you are from my barangay. Be good business girls and you will clear your credit in no time." 

Blen asked, "And when do you sell my cherry?"

"The first thing is to create an interest, we need to talk about it, sit with me and have a chat. You girls, get change." 

They sat at the desk, which comprised Mama's office. Mama explained her plan for Blen. 

"Talent Spot is a dance club, and customers take our girls out on bar-fine, but we have the short-time booth, so customers can have a discrete service on-site. Mostly it is just a blow-job. Your customers, last night, are very satisfied, and I am very pleased with you, so, for now, you will be my blow-job girl, at least until your cherry is selled. I will send any customers who request it, to you; that will be your income, because you cannot go bar-fine. From now, it is 600p for a short-time, and it will go in our account book. You get half for your commission. It is important to promote your service, or the customers do not know. Do it like this. If a customer show an interest in you when you dance, make him this sign..." - she pushed her tongue into her cheek to make it bulge then made a wanking motion to the side of her mouth - "... then they will know that you will give the blow-job. Also we must promote your cherry." 

From her desk, Mama produced a badge in the shape of two cherries on a 'V' shaped stem, over which was sprinkled dollar signs, and handed it to Blen. 

"Pin this to your thong, over your pussy, to show that your cherry is for sale. If anyone ask what it is, or ask if you are a cherry, tell him you are a cherry and that if he like to fuck with you, to ask for Mama-san. I do not want you doing cherry bar-fines either, that is why I will give you all the blow-jobs. You have a nice look, so you can be a headline girl. We need some pretty girls who will dance at all times and keep customers in the bar, also, the customers will see your cherry for sale. If you do not have a customer in the booth, you will work in the bar and dance your sets. Later, I will show you some things I will ask you to do as interest for the customers..

"... Oh, and you must use the wash bowl for hygiene ... from now you must always use it." 

"What is that?" asked Blen. 

"The waitress will put a silver bowl on the table in the booth. Before you put your customer in your mouth, wash him with the wet cloth, make sure he is nice and clean, dry him with the dry cloth and massage him with the rubbing alcohol. That will feel good for the customer and will kill any germs." She glanced at the rota pinned on the wall. "You are set A tonight, so hurry now and change. You are on at seven."

A few minutes later Blen filed onto the stage with the other girls. 

After speaking with Mama, she felt optimistic once more. Of course, Mama was right, she told herself, We are simple provincial girls who had never held a 100p note in our hands; we forget that 20,000p is small change for our customers. They are generous and like the opportunity to give us money as much as we like the opportunity to take it. Again, she sought her reflection in the mirror, and pleased by what she saw, her confidence soared. How, she asked herself, could any man not want me?

Conversation rippled sideways, back and forth along the line-up, as the girls moved in their chosen ways to the music. Soon, all knew Blen's fate. Whenever a girl signalled an invitation to a customer, which was not accepted, she would point at Blen's badge and call, "You like a cherry girl, we have a cherry for sale," and they would all laugh.

When Blen caught the eye of a customer sitting up at the stage, she smiled and gave him the blow-job sign. 

He beckoned her. "Are you a cherry girl?"

"Yes Siir, I am a cherry, but if you like to fuck with me you must ask Mama-san."

"So what's with this?" He made a brief blow-job sign. "You're a cherry girl and you give blow-jobs?"

"Yes Siir, until some guy will buy my cherry, no boom-boom, no bar-fine, just the blow-job."

"I see. That's good ... I may avail myself later."

"I will be here until closing, Siir," Blen told him. 

"Can I put this in your thong?" He waved a 100p note. 

"Of course, Siir." Blen rapidly stepped right up in front of him, delighted to accept an unexpected gift.

"But I'd like to peek at a cherry pussy. Is it OK if I look under your thong?" 

She laughed. "Yes Siir, you can peek, but Mama-san has a photo." 

"Of your pussy?" He looked surprised. 

She laughed again. "Yes Siir. Of my cherry. She take a photo of my cherry for our contract."

"Maybe I'll ask to see it," he said, "but first things first."

Standing on the footrest of his stool so his head was level with her waist, he pulled the top of Blen's thong out and down, and made a play of inspecting her pussy. 

"That looks like Grade 'A' cherry-pie to me ... and if it was shaved I could see even better." 

"Maybe next time, Siir." 

He tucked the note under her thong. 

"Thaaaank you Siiiir," she lilted as she stepped back, and took the note from her thong. 

Anabel immediately scolded her. "Leave it. Leave it. Do like this." She took the note and threaded it back through the strap of Blen's thong, then arranged it neatly. "Keep your tip like this. It will suggest to the other guys."

After twenty minutes, Set A filed off stage to be replaced by Set B. When Mama was satisfied that Set B were all on stage and in order, she called Blen to follow her back to the changing area.

"You have a tip already. Who give to you?"

"That guy." Blen pointed. 

"Do you ask if he like the blow-job?"

"Yes, he tell me, maybe later." 

"Good. Why does he tip you?"

"I show him my pussy, he liked to see my pussy. And he said he like to see my photo of my cherry." 

"Ahh ... you are promoting your cherry ... that is good. I can see you will be a good business woman ... I want to show you some ways to use your costume to tease the customers. They like to see a nice show. That will keep them in the bar, and earn you tips. They like to look at nice sou-sou, so when I make this sign, I want you to take off your camisole and roll down your stockings, the way I show you last night. I will point out the customers I want to interest. If they will stay for one more round of drinks, we make more money. You can also use your thong. Rub it down your thighs like this, and it will roll down." She demonstrated the motion. 

"Try now ... see, it rolls down and will cling to the top of your legs. Now rub them the other way ... and it will roll back up. Give a glimpse when you dance. Also you can hitch the side straps on your shoulders. Slip your hand through and lift with your other hand ... Yes, like that ... Now, the other side."

The thong was now drawn up tightly into the crease of Blen's pussy, and formed a narrow 'V' from her crotch across her belly and breasts, to her shoulders. 

"That is it. Now pull on the middle and rock your hips like a boom-boom."

As she did so the tightly strung gusset cut into her pussy and was drawn taut against her clitoris. "Oohh," trilled Blen, "that is sexy." 

"Yes, and your look is sexy. It make me feel horny, so it will make the customer horny."

At that point, a very tall, thickset gentlemen with a pronounced belly, dressed in shorts, sandals, and a brightly coloured T-shirt came through. "Hello, Hello!" he intoned in an enthusiastic and amiable American accent, addressing the room at large. 

"Hi Daaaddy," chorused several girls. 

He slapped the backside of one, who was bent over adjusting her boots. She jumped, and looked offended. 

"Look at that ass, that's the best ass in Angeles. Out, and show it to the customers, get yourself bar-fined. You won't catch a bar-fine in here." 

"Hi there, Mama." He greeted, and came over. "Who's this lovely lady in such a fetching costume?"

"This is Blen."

"Ahhh. You're Mamas new little sperm-hoover. I hear you sucked the cum out of poor old Hirohito. I'd like to have seen the look on his face. Any customers tonight?" 

"I think there is one soon," said Mama. 

"Who?" asked Blen. 

"You will see."

"While you're so elegantly attired, I'll take your feature shots," said the man.

Mama introduced him. "This is Daddy Don. He is the owner here." 

"Hello Daddy," said Blen. 

"You just do what Mama tells you, and you won't hear from me. She'll put you on the right track to make a fortune. Is that a cherry badge?" 

"Yes, I am a cherry."

"No problem, Mama will help cure you of that. Now let's get those pictures, just stand over there." He indicated a white backdrop board. 

Mama led her to it, and Daddy switched on some spotlights. He dimmed them a little, and produced a camera. 

"OK Mama, show her some of your poses."

Mama struck a pose for Blen to copy, then made adjustments to her posture, and Daddy called for further adjustments. In this manner, he took ten or fifteen shots of her; upright, bending, looking forward, looking back, leaning, leg up, and so on.

When he had finished, Blen enquired, "Why do you have those pictures Daddy?" 

"Sometimes we're asked to provide girls for certain events. I can email photos over to the customers and they can pick the girls they want." 

"Ohhh ...what sort of events?"

"It could be anything. Mostly it's parties. Last year we provided some girls for a movie, so you could be a movie star."

"In my dreams only," replied Blen, sighing and looking up.

Mama interjected. "But now your day job. Let us see if we can catch that blow-job. Come as you are, I want you to see how attractive you can make yourself to a man." 

She picked up Blen's cherry file from her desk. "Come with me to the customer who asked to see your cherry. I will show him your photos ... you go to the other side ... lean on him and smile ... let him see your breasts ... put your hand on his crotch and rub gently. You will see that he will like your blow-job if you are a bold girl." She then led Blen back to the bar.

"Hello sir." He turned towards her. "I'm Mutia, the Mama-san here".

As she finished this introduction, Blen slipped in on his other side and rested her hand on his crotch. His head snapped round to see the cause of this intimate contact.

Blen beamed, and cocked her head. "Hello again." 

"Oh hello." He stared at her bare breasts with her thong straps stretched across them. "That's a great way to wear a thong."

Blen felt a pulse in his crotch, so she began to rub gently.

Mama continued. "This is Blen, our cherry girl. She tells me you are interested to see her cherry."

"Errr ... That's right," he confirmed.

Mama produced two A4 photo prints from the file and held them before him.

"Here you are, Sir. These are the photos of her cherry. I am her agent for the sale."

He took the photos and placed them on the bar side-by-side. The line-up seeing something happening crowded around.

"Jesus ... that's really cute."

Blen felt his penis surge in length and girth. She had to raise herself on the rung of his stool so she could see the photos. On the left was the close up of her vagina, many times actual size, clearly revealing her hymen. On the right, was the shot of her, Girlie and Amor, smiling radiantly, as they framed her stretched pussy. Blen felt an emptiness in her stomach, and her pulse race. She felt shameless, but thrilled by her boldness, thrilled to see her photos, and thrilled by the attention they were receiving.

"You can see her hymen here ..." Mama pointed. " ... and you can see here that it is Blen. Do you like the photos, Sir?"

"I certainly like them." He turned to Blen, and smiled broadly. "Blen, you're very photogenic."

Mama made her move. "If you like to make an offer for Blen's cherry, then you can take her home and enjoy her tonight?"

Blen could feel his engorged penis pump. He looked at her, and she leaned forward to emphasise her breasts.

"I'd love to Blen, but ... sorry ... cherrys are way beyond my budget."

"That is not a problem Sir," said Mama. "You can avail of our 'try-before-you-buy' offer. We have a comfortable booth where you can receive a blow-job while you get to know Blen better." 




Bar Girl Ch. 03



Blen made the blow-job sign and smiled suggestively while griping hard on his penis with her other hand. 

"There is no commitment, it is reasonably priced at 600 pesos, with satisfaction guaranteed. You can afford that. Or, think of it this way, can you afford to miss this chance of a happy remembrance?"

He looked at Blen, smiled, raised his arms. "I give in ... take my money ... take my money."

"There Blen ... you have a customer," said Mama. "The waitress will sort you out, Sir. Now, enjoy yourself. I am sure you will." She gathered the photos and left, and the waitress took the money.

"Bring me a beer, and a ladies drink. We'll just sit here, for a while, first."

He lifted Blen onto his lap and introduced himself. "I'm Gary, Blen. I feel I know you better already than I knew my ex-wife, I've certainly seen more of you." 

She ground her bottom on his erection. "Thaaank you for choosing me, Siiir." 

Anabel suddenly appeared, and resting one foot on the bar, pulled the crotch of her thong to one side. "Would you like to see a shaved pussy? Would you like to take a photo?" she shrieked. All the girls laughed hilariously and stamped their feet. 

When the excitement of the occasion settled down, and Gary had finished his beer, Blen took him by the hand and led him across the bar to the booth. She was aware that all eyes in the club were following her, and raised her chin and swayed her hips to impress. The image reflected in the mirror pleased her. Before pulling the curtain, the waitress put down the silver bowl with a bump. When she got to the part in the routine where she stood Gary's penis erect, she took a sachet from the bowl and opened it to extract a pleasant smelling moist tissue, which she used to thoroughly clean Gary's penis, then another cloth to dry it off. She opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol, poured some into a hand and began to massage Gary's penis.

"Ahhhhhh." Gary sighed contentedly as the pleasing friction of her hand combined with the teasing sensation of evaporating alcohol. Blen then fixed his eyes with hers, and began to seek out his pleasure points, determined to use her lips, tongue, and cheeks in the silent communication of the greatest possible pleasure. While one hand secured his penis, her other slid between her thighs to discharge the excitement aroused by the sight of her photos. She brought herself to a climax as he jetted over her face.

About half-past-ten, while Blen was on stage, Precious entered, dressed smartly in new clothes, and leading a blonde haired, bespectacled guy of about thirty. She and Amor greeted her raucously, having seen little of her over the past two days. She came over, climbed up on the footrest of the bar, and exchanged hugs. 

"This is Klaus." She looked fondly at her companion. "These are my friends from home," she told him. 

He nodded agreeably. The girls started to gossip.

"Would your friends like a drink? We can sit up there." He led the way to his chosen table, and they all settled around it. "A San Miguel light, and drinks for three girls," Klaus told the waitress. 

"Where is Girlie?" asked Precious. 

"Her customer come back for her," said Amor, then asked, "Have you been to the lady-house yet?" 

Precious had not. While they were discussing the lady-house Mama approached. 

"Hello Precious. Are all things good?" 

"All is good," she gushed. 

"We will be going away for a few days," Klaus told Mama, "just a diving trip. We will be back on Friday." He pulled out his wallet and counted some notes. 

"Where are you going?"

"Puerto Galera." Klaus handed the notes to Mama. 

"Oh, that is very nice." Mama counted the money, then looked up to confirm. "Seven days?" 

"Yes, just a short trip, we will travel down on Monday."

The waitress wrote out a chit.

"But we do need to go to Hygiene on Monday morning to register for your licence," Mama reminded Precious.

Klaus was keen to oblige. "I will book the car for the afternoon. We can get a boat at any time from Batangas."

"Do you have some spending money for the trip?" Mama asked Precious. 

Klaus felt she was now his responsibility. "I'll take care of Precious." 

"You are a very lucky girl. Be sure to keep him happy." 

"Oh yes, she does." Klaus sounded smug and content. 

Precious looked at Klaus admiringly. Blen and Amor looked at him, wide-eyed with envy.



Bar Girl Ch. 04



Chapter 4. "Pool Party."

Pool Party at Poco Jo's and aftermath. Chuck. Hygiene. Satisfaction Guaranteed. Papa Adam and Mama Claire. House Robbery, and Nice with Ice.

The next morning, Blen, Amor and Girlie looked forward with excitement to the pool party. Girlie had spent some time by a hotel pool with her customer, though they had not swum. Amor's first night bar-fine had stayed at a hotel with no pool so, like Blen, she had never even seen a swimming pool other than on the TV.

Amor was anxious about what might be expected. "I do not swim. How will I go in the water?"

"It is deep at one end, but shallow at the other," Girlie told her. "Only walk in the shallow end, you can play there."

Blen wanted to put the outing to a good purpose, besides earning money. "I like to learn to swim." 

"Then you will need a teacher," said Amor.

Girlie laughed. "You will have many teachers." She remembered ruefully how she wished her customer had invited her to join the fun in the pool. "All the foreign guys like to teach the girls. They like to play with their girls in the water. You will enjoy it."

"But we have no swim suit. What will we wear? Will Mama give us a swimsuit?" asked Blen. 

"There will be a costume, but I do not know. I expect it will be a bold costume," said Girlie.

Amor suspected it would cover little. "Bold! How bold?"

"It is an entertainment," Girlie reasoned, "The foreigners like bold."

"Is it like in the bar?" asked Blen.

"I do not know, but, it will be for the enjoyment of the foreigners." Girlie was sure of that.

Around midday, Mama collected them. 

Poco Jo's was situated on Fields, not far from Talent Spot, and the girls were already aware of its existence, but had not been inside. They went in through the entrance on the corner of Fields and A. Santos, and passed diagonally through the large, combined bar and restaurant, where a mixed bunch of tourists, mostly westerners, sat drinking, watching TV, playing pool or enjoying a meal, many in the company of their Filipina girlfriends. At the far corner of the floor, they passed though a short passage between the rear bar and the office wall, into the swimming pool.

The pool was smaller than Blen had imagined. The surrounding walls and buildings seemed to close over it, and though a little claustrophobic, it did give a feeling of privacy. Temporary seating was arranged on the concrete walkway around the pool, and also on the balconies of the building forming two sides of the pool area, the other two sides being enclosed by a wall, which was high, but not high enough to prevent some adjacent buildings peering over.

Arching across the centre of the pool, like a concave rope bridge, was a wooden walkway with rope fences on each side. Where they had entered from the restaurant, the bar opened onto the pool. Mama led them to the far side. There, Mama-sans from other bars were also assembling their teams. 

Mama Mutia called her girls together to explain what would happen.

"There is a Wet-T contest today. I have costumes here for you, like you see some of the other girls wearing - a hanger blouse and thong." 

Blen looked around to see girls, each dressed in a bikini bottom and skimpy top, like a sleeveless vest cut away immediately below the bust.

Mama continued, "Many bars have teams, but there is no prize for the team, only for a girl; first, second and third. Each girl will go out on the walkway and dance. Before, take a shower, so your hanger blouse will turn transparent and cling to your breasts, then dance into the middle of the walkway and do your best dance to the music until the compère tell you to move to the judge's panel. They sit at the other end of the walkway, so you move to them, and chat and flirt until the compère say that was – and say your name. Then jump into the pool and join the pool party. The first prize is 1000 pesos and some gifts, so the more wild your dance, the better your chance to win. When you dance on the walkway, remember that everyone like to see you, that is why they pay; move around and dance to all directions. There will be a Come2AC.com cameraman here to make a movie, I will point him. They have the Rights, so make sure you dance to him for a few seconds, so he can get his shot."

"What does that mean?" asked Blen. "Will we be on the internet?"

"It mean that they have the right to sell the video of the party. Many guys will take photos, but Come2AC pay Jo to be the only one who can make a video, and they can sell the video in their web site. Make sure they have a good shot of you. When you move to the judges, remember that they will choose the winners, so be sure to please with them if you like to win. And when you jump in the pool, remember, you are here to make a friend."

Mama pulled bundles of thongs and hanger blouses from her bag, and the girls selected a costume that fitted, and changed into it. 

More girls began to arrive, and customers began to fill the chairs or slip into the pool. Complimentary local drinks were made available to the girls. Each competitor was given a number, and the compère's assistant made a list of numbers, names, home bars, ages, origins and short biographies on individual cards. By two, there were seventy girls spread around the pool, waiting to compete. Customers filled all the chairs at poolside and on the balconies and an overflow of customers stood where they could. A good many were already in the pool, hugging the edge, or hanging onto the play rafts. The compère opened the contest by announcing how many competitors, and from what bars, then introducing the four judges, and calling the first contestant: 

"First up, today, we have Rosalie from Precious Jewels."

The music started up, the crowd cheered, and Rosalie, dripping wet from the shower, advanced, dirty dancing style, onto the walkway. 

"Rosalie is twenty, has no children, and comes from Samar. She's worked in Angeles for three months, and the guy she wants to meet would be aged between thirty-five and fifty, and would be a smiling guy. Well guys, if you have a nice smile, you can meet her in the pool in three minutes." 

Rosalie danced suggestively in the middle of the walkway until the compère said, "And now come and meet the judges," when she shimmied to the end of the walkway where the judges were seated, and hugged, kissed and gyrated before, them, lap dancing, and exchanging banter for a short period. 

After allowing her a reasonable opportunity to impress, the compère concluded, "Thank you Rosalie from Precious Jewels." 

She took a bow and jumped into the pool. 

The next girl was introduced in a similar fashion - and so the afternoon proceeded.

Blen looked around nervously, taking in the scene. She had never seen so many foreigners together in one place. In fact, before she arrived in Angeles she had seen only one or two foreigners - ever. At most, there had been ten in Talent Spot at any one time, but here there were hundreds, all within twenty yards, and they would all be looking at her. The numbness she had felt in her stomach before her first set in Talent Spot returned. 

"Now I am very nervous," she told her friends, "there is so many people. It is not dark, like in the club."

Amor also, was having second thoughts. "I did not know it would be like this, I do not know what I will do."

Doll, who was a veteran of several Wet-T contests, provided the solution. "This why there is free drinks. It will cure your nerves. Drink as many as you can before you are call."

Blen looked resolutely at her friends. "OK. We must enjoy the drinks." 

They immediately set about shot-gunning the free intoxicants. The mood amongst the girls soon became inebriated and wild, matching the mood of their audience.

Alcohol soon dissolved her nerves and Blen's imagination grew bold. Studying the dances of the contestants closely, she began to choreograph her own performance. As the dancers were more daring, the crowd expressed its appreciation more noisily, and the thought of receiving the applause of the crowd excited her. She recognised familiar tingles in her groin and the change in pulse and breathing. The applause was exciting her sexually. While she imagined her performance, she felt a powerful desire to masturbate, but that release was not available in the crowded pool, and her excitement fed on itself, spiralling ever higher.

Time passed, and in turn Girlie and Amor were called. Amor was by now quite drunk, and surprised Blen with the raunchiness of her performance compared to her dancing in Talent Spot. As the afternoon progressed, more alcohol was consumed and the dancing became more uninhibited. Hanger blouses were flipped up to reveal breasts, and thongs were pulled down, revealing a quick glimpse of pussy. Both Girlie and Amor incorporated these flirtatious provocations. Blen, who was by now quite drunk, felt the urge to outperform her friends and receive the adulation of the crowd. She formed a plan to be more daring than any other girl.

At last, the compère announced, "Next, number 58. This is Blen form Talent Spot. Hey, would you believe she is another eighteen year old from Talent Spot who has been in Angeles only three days." 

Blen, who had smoothed her blouse flat against her breasts after her shower, ensuring her nipples showed clearly through the soaked cotton, took a deep breath, steeled herself and repeating the sensual undulations she had practiced in Talent Spot, danced out onto the walkway. In performance of her preconceived plan, she then turned and raised her hanger blouse to flash each section of the crowd in turn. The eruption of drunken cheers encouraged her to proceed. Facing the Come2AC.com cameraman, she shimmied seductively, slowly raised her arms, stripped off her hanger blouse, twirled it around her head, and threw it towards the judges. A gratifying cacophony urged her on. Keen to please her audience, Blen began to pull down her thong and flash her pussy. Someone in the crowd called out, "Off - Off," and the call was taken up generally. Blen thrilled in response, slipped off her thong and threw it after her blouse. Applause burst out and she proceeded to her planned climax.

Previously, girls had used the rope rails as props, some using them to do the splits. Blen's plan was to use them in a most daring way. First, on the right rail, she gripped the upper rope, and stood on the lower, then slid her legs outward and sank into splits, until her legs slopped gently up in a shallow V. To her gratification, this was greeted by thunderous applause. Repeated mirror image on the left rail, it produced a similar response. Finally, she made her play to the judges. Facing them along the walkway, with one hand gripping the top rope on either side and one foot on the lower rope rail on each side, she sank into her deepest splits her bottom resting on the walkway and her heels hauled level with her shoulders by the taut ropes. At the base of her pubic hair a pink notch revealed where her pussy opened. The judges rose in a standing ovation.

As the cheers subsided, the compère intoned lasciviously, "It says on my card here that Blen is a cherry girl. If you look closely, like I'm doing, you can see that's true. Any of you gentlemen wanting to relieve her of that burden can contact Mama Mutia at Talent Spot, but bring your wallet ... Now, Blen, come and say hello to the judges."

Blen twirled round a couple of times as she danced towards them. A press of snappers mover forward and, as she reached the end of the walk way, she was illuminated in the chaotic flash of cameras, like a movie actor arriving at a première. The snappers were shooed back so Blen could work her away along the laps of the judges, kissing and stroking, and grinding her bum.

When she left the last lap, she danced back towards the first judge, and continued until the compère said, "Thank you Blen from Talent Spot."

On moving towards the pool, her way was again blocked by the mass of snappers, keen to get more photos. Flattered by their interest she paused and started to strike poses, carrying on until she heard Mama Mutia's voice above the clamour. Blen turned to see her signalling urgently, indicating she should jump in the pool. Picking some clear water, she jumped.

The water arrested her fall. With bubbles rising around her, she began to buoy slowly toward the surface. Suddenly, the water above her began to foam as fans dived in, like gulls on fish gut, wanting to be the guy to retrieve her. She broke surface, like a wet toy in the arms of a very large, deeply tanned man of about fifty who hefted her in his arms as he would a four-year-old child. 

"Hi Blen, come and have a drink." With that he carried his prize away to a step, where he sat, triumphantly cradling her in his arms. 

Blen was feeling euphoric and horny a result of her reception, but also spent and sleepy as a result of alcohol and the exertion of her spirited dance. The warmth of this man's body was comforting, and she allowed herself to relax into his embrace.

"I'm Chuck. I've done a bit of fishing in my time, but this is the first time I've caught a cherry girl."

Blen snuggled against him, and slipped a hand underneath and began to massage his cock. "Did you enjoy my dance?" she asked, with heavy lidded eyes.

"Everyone enjoyed it, except your competitors." 

"Was I the best, Siir?"

"You'll get my first prize if you keep stroking my dick."

His hand began to caress her body under the water. Blen took hold of it, found his forefinger, and placed it against her clitoris. 

"Just there please, Siir, only outside," she murmured. 

Blen felt more happy than she had ever felt. She was living the dream, wrapped securely in the protective embrace of a wealthy American.

"You don't seem like a cherry girl," observed Chuck.

"I do not want to be a cherry Siir, I want to boom-boom, but I must wait for Mama to sell my cherry first."

"Why don't you just make your own arrangement?" 

"I have sold it to Mama for my credit, Siir. Now I must wait her arrangement. Do you like to offer her?"

"Oh, I can't afford to be buying cherries. My wife goes through our finances pretty carefully, I'd have to explain where the money went. She's more into appliances." 

The word 'wife' caused a little stab of disappointment. She had hoped this guy who had carried her off might be the one, but he was married, and she realised a little of what the girls meant when they referred to Angeles as Heartbreak City. Nevertheless, she decided to enjoy the moment and, heads pressed together so they could hear each over the riotous fun, they lapsed into an intimate disclosure of life histories, and secret and leisurely mutual masturbation. It was secret, except from furtive eyes which followed Blen's movements, including those of Amor. 

"She just come," Amor whispered to Girlie, before she was tossed playfully into the air by the companion who had claimed her in the pool. She splashed down, bobbed to the surface and gasped in air. "I am sure she just come. See the look of her face."

By five, the judges were ready to deliver their verdict. Blen was not among the three winners.

"I thinked they like my dance," she complained to Chuck.

"They liked your dance, but there are unwritten rules at play. The girl with the biggest tits gets first prize, the girl with the second biggest tits gets second prize and the girl with the third biggest tits gets third prize. They loved your dance, your tits just aren't big enough." 

Blen thought of the emaciated creatures who had worked in the fields with her the week before, and she understood the appeal of something more rounded, less androgynous.

Again, Mama's voice broke in. "Come Blen, we must go now, say goodbye to your friend." 

The afternoon had been fun, but the alcohol that fuelled it was beginning to wear off, and Blen felt very tired. "Thank you for rescuing me, Sir." She wriggled from Chuck's grasp and climbed up onto the skirt of the swimming pool.

"The pleasure was all ours," said Chuck hoping Blen would understand his secret meaning, "I'm going to have fun telling tales of the one that got away."

As Blen pulled on her street clothes, Mama told her, "You did very well today. You have excited a lot of interest. Many customers will come in tonight to see you, so be prepared for a busy evening. You can make a lot of commission."

As they made to leave the pool, Chuck intercepted Blen. "Here's MY first prize." He pressed a 500p note into her hand.

"Are you sure your wife will not miss this, Siir?" 

"I have the money's worth in my pants ready for her when I get home, but it's best if she doesn't know it comes courtesy of my little fish."

They parted, exchanging wistful smiles.

By the time the girls took to the stage at seven, the upbeat effects of alcohol had passed, and the negative consequences were beginning to dominate. All the girls who had been at the pool party had sleep on their minds. They moved lethargically on stage, and found it difficult to respond to the customers. As Mama said, potential customers had been noting the girls, and noting the bars, and came in search of them. Blen was soon up and down from the stage, and refuelling on ladies drinks. Slowly her mood again mellowed. Girlie also had her fans. Amor, however, was even more introverted and withdrawn than usual. Her performance at the pool had been appreciated and drew fans to Talent Spot, but they did not recognise the fun person they had seen a few hours earlier, consequently she danced all evening. 

Many customers enquired whether Blen really was a cherry girl, which gave Mama the opportunity to promote her 'try-before-you-buy' service. By midnight, Blen's jaw was too sore to give another blow-job, and she was passing her over-excited customers to Girlie for their coup de grace.

At two-am, the exhausted girls made their way straight back to the lady-house to fling off their clothes, throw themselves down upon the bed like logs in a row, and fall into deep, deep sleep.

A rocking of the bed and Mama Mutia's voice awakened them next morning. 

"Wake up girls, we must go to Hygiene and register for your licences." 

Blen, Amor and Girlie disentangled themselves from Anabel and Marivic, who immediately spread out and went back to sleep. Blen was instantly aware of a soreness between her legs, the legacy of the previous day's extended masturbation session in the pool.

"It will be more convenient at Hygiene if you wear your dress," advised Mama.

The girls selected suitable garments from their lockers, re-secured them, and made their way downstairs to wash and dress. When the last one was cleaned up and presentable to the day, they sat and had breakfast of instant coffee and reheated rice.

Mama was pleased with the way the pool party had gone. "You all did well. It is good publicity for Talent Spot. At this time of year, we live on the custom of the foreign residents because we do not have many tourists. Most of the customers at the pool party live here, so they now know that we have three new girls, including a wild cherry girl. I like your sexy dance Amor, see if you can do like that in Talent Spot, then the customers will pick you out. Be careful with the bold show Blen, it is very popular, but there is a time and place, you must only do it when I tell to you. There will be opportunities and I will tell you when they come. Your short-time service is also very popular. We can attract some customers away from Blow Row. 

"Girlie, you did well in the booth also. Tell me. Are you a cherry-ass?"

"Yes ... I am a cherry-ass ... Why?" 

"I have customers that like a three-hole girl, but I do not have one right now. The customers are very happy with your boom-boom, and last night you do well in the booth. If you like to lose your cherry ass, you can be my three-hole girl. Would you like me to put you up to the customers?"




Bar Girl Ch. 04



"Well ... maybe I like to try it one time, first ... then I decide," replied Girlie.

"Good. From your first customer I will also ask for 3000 peso. That will be for you, no bar share. If you are a girl it suit, and if you are happy, you can then be my satisfaction guaranteed girl. 

"And, I like you other girls to consider also. Soon it will be high season, and the girl who offer her three-holes will always be bar-fine out. You could be bar-fine every night, and it will be good business for Talent Spot to have three pretty, young three-hole girls available for the holidays, so I will look for opportunities for you to increase your experience, and you can increase your earnings."

Blen, who was determined to succeed in Angeles, welcomed the suggestion. "OK I will try it, but what about my cherry Mama, I will need to lose my cherry?" 

"There is already interest," said Mama. "I will have sell your cherry by the holidays."

Amor, who was allowing herself to be carried along by necessity rather than attempting to shape events, found the prospect daunting, but said nothing, anxious that she should do as her friends did.

During breakfast, Precious arrived in a trike. Only Mama and her three friends were about when she entered. Mama stood while she was barely through the door. "OK, we are all here, we can go now. First, we must go to the photographer to get your photo. I have all your documents to show the registrar. You will enrol, and then test swabs will be taken. These are sent for testing and, if you are clear, your licence will be there two days later." 

A trike arrived, and all five boarded, three sitting and one squatting in the sidecar, with Mama sitting side saddle behind the driver. They turned left onto MacArthur Highway, and shortly after passing Johnnie's supermarket, turned left, off the highway, onto the parallel roadway fronting commercial premises, stopping at a photographer's shop. Sets of instant passport photos were taken for each of them. In the trike once more, they returned back across the highway, turned right and then left, just before Johnnie's, and drove up C. Surla Street. Short of A. Santos St, they were deposited outside a door let into a high, grey, concrete wall. Mama Mutia led them through, into the building beyond. She was greeted by name by all the officials, and was obviously well known. 

Tapping on a door, she popped her head in. "I have some new girls."

A voice told her to bring them in. 

The four girls were arranged on chairs before a desk, behind which sat a stern faced, matronly, middle-aged woman. Mama Mutia hovered beside her and proffered photos and documents as the official asked each girl her name, age and town of origin, followed by various health related questions. The details were recorded on a form. The documents proffered by Mama Mutia were examined, and details copied. When this was completed for all the girls, the official gave a little speech. 

"You girls are applying for a licence to be employed in a controlled establishment. The licensing and control measures are a protective measure for you girls and your customers. The history here is that when men and girls meet in entertainment establishments, nature takes its course, and the men want to take the girls out and make love to them. This can be a risky business. You girls can fall pregnant. There is also a risk of disease. Here the population of men, the foreigners, the tourists, is changing all the time. We don't have any control over where they come from or what they might have done before coming here. In two or three weeks, they will be gone, but you will still be here. They may have made you pregnant or passed you a disease, but you are left to fend for yourself. Prevention is better than Cure. We are here to advise you on measures that prevent you becoming pregnant, reduce the risk that you will be passed an infection, and if you are infected, detect it quickly, and take steps to prevent you passing it to anyone else. 

"Because Angeles is a hospitality resort, with many men passing through, this creates an increased risk of sexually transmitted disease, so increased public health measures are necessary. You know what STDs, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, are. Syphilis, gonorrhoea, chlamydia, herpes, genital warts and AIDS, the sorts of diseases that require intimate body contact to be transmitted." 

She described the various illnesses, and handed them leaflets detailing symptoms and drawings of visible lesions. 

"There are two main weapons in safeguarding you and your customer. First, use a condom, this provides a lot of protection against disease and pregnancy, but condoms are not infallible. You must insist your customers use a condom. Second, you must, as a condition of your licence, be tested every week for STDs. If you test positive, the infection is caught early and will be much more easily treated. You will be advised of the necessary treatment that you will need, but you must see a doctor to arrange treatment. Until the infection is cleared, your licence will be suspended, and you cannot work. You should avoid intimate body contact with anyone. That means you should not have sexual contact. When you have completed your treatment, come for your test, and when you have been cleared, your licence will be re-issued and you can return to work. 

"The next step is for you to have your first test. The test is simple. Some swabs are taken and sent for testing, this takes two days. If the test is clear, I will issue you with a licence and you can begin work. Be safe in your work, and take these with you." She pushed a box of condoms towards each girl. "Be sure to use them, they are your best defence against pregnancy and disease. If you need more, just ask when you come in for your test. Now, Mutia will take you for your test." 

She signed each form, which was slipped into a file that she gave to Mama Mutia, who led the girls to a nearby room where other girls already queued. Mama seemed to know most of them. She used the opportunity to target some with offers of employment. They were polite but non-committal. When their turn came, all five went in together, to join a queue of girls who waited for their examination. At the end of the queue was an examination chair, by which sat the nurse.

When they reached the front of the queue, Mama introduced them "These are my new girls," she indicated the next four.

The nurse took their documents, looked at the top one and said, "Blen, you have not had a test before, Blen?" 

"No."

"OK, just slip of your briefs ... can you others girls do that also ... and come and sit here in this chair like you have seen the other girls. Pull up your dress, lean back and put your feet in these rests."

Blen, who had never been to a doctor nor had a medical examination of any sort, felt awed by this procedure, but flattered by the concern for her welfare, which confirmed her new belief in her own importance. She raised her dress to her waist, sat in the chair, raised her legs into the stirrups and sat with her legs splayed. First, the nurse copied some particulars from her file onto a sticker, which she applied to a plastic bag. Shortly, with a thrust of her foot, she rolled her chair between Blen's legs and leaned towards her.

"Open your mouth wide please." 

The nurse shone a light into her mouth, and inspected it for signs of infection.

"That is fine. Now I must take a swab. You will find the speculum feel a little bit cold."

As the nurse took a vaginal speculum from a pile on a tray on an adjacent table, her friends moved forward to see what would happen. 

"Blen is a virgin," said Mama. 

The nurse replaced the speculum, pressed open Blen's vagina and peered in.

"Yes, a virgin. You must come in on Friday. We examine the virgins on Friday when have the virgin retractors and we can confirm you remain a virgin. I will swab you today so you can get your licence, but come back on Friday and every successive Friday. Only while you continue to attend the virgin clinic can you promote yourself to your customer as a virgin and have a virgin code on your licence." 

She took a swab stick and inserted it through the hole in Blen's hymen, circled it around her vaginal wall, and swiped her cervix, before dropping it into the bag. Parting the cheeks of Blen's bottom, she visually inspected her anus, ensuring it looked tight and healthy. 

"That is it, off you get." She sealed the bag and placed it in a crate. "Amor, next."

Amor raised her dress, took the seat, and placed her feet in the supports. Her exposed pubis was now dark with three days growth.

"Oh Amor, you must keep yourself groom," remarked Mama. "Your customer can go unshaved, but you cannot. You must keep shave or grow back, but in between, it will scratch your customer. It is best if you keep shave now." 

"I do not know what is best," said Amor, "and I do not know how to shave, it was my customer that shave me."

"You girls can shave one another; that is the easy way; Anabel and Marivic will show you," said Mama Mutia. "And with customers, for preference western guys like shave, but Japanese like hair, so remember your customer when you chose."

"Many girls choose this look, it is very common," added the nurse.

From the pile, she picked a speculum, inserted it into Amor's vagina, opened and clipped it. Illuminating her cervix with a narrow beam torch, she peered in, examining the interior, ensuring that the colour of her vaginal walls and its secretions looked healthy. With a swab, she deftly took a sample and popped it into the bag before visually examining Amor's anus. The others were similarly processed. 

Examinations were carried out speedily, and on an industrial scale, girls joining the queue as fast as they were processed by the nurse, an experienced girl being examined in about twenty seconds.

"You girls come in next Monday and every Monday thereafter," the nurse instructed them.

Again, Girlie and Amor had had an opportunity to compare adult vaginas, and began to appreciate that they are as diverse as eyes, and equally capable of being groomed to improve appearance, as with tastefully applied make-up. 

Outside, Girlie again raised the question with Mama Mutia. "Is like Amor the best?" 

"Let your customer decide. It will grow again if you want it back, but always keep your pussy tidy. Keep it so it does not show outside of your panties." 

Blen pulled her panties from her bag, where they had remained after the examination, held them in front of her, looked at them and said, "Mine do not show."

They all laughed.

When Blen, Girlie, Amor and Mama dismounted at the lady-house, Precious remained in the trike to be taken back to her customer. Mama Mutia told her, "This is where you will stay. You can sign the agreement when you return. Your bag is here in your locker and you will share your room with the others girls."

The girls hugged, then with calls of, "Good Luck" and "Happy Treep," as the trike drew away, Blen, Amor and Girlie waved an envious farewell to Precious, each hoping it would soon be them who was setting off on holiday with their customer.

While they sat in their sala for a snack and drink, Mama gave them their birth and baptismal certificates. "In two days, it will be me to collect your licences. Meanwhile, I will lend you the licence of absent girls. You must be careful not to show it to your customer and, if inspectors come in, quickly come out to the back and I will show you where to hide until they leave. The waitress will tell you. 

Now, I will pay for your licence and test, but because I am paying, I will keep your licence. You must always give it to me before you leave the club. It is valuable, and I will keep it safe for you. Also, if you want to go to another club, your new Mama-san must pay me for it to compensate for my investment. That is only fair."

They felt unable to disagree.

After spending the afternoon washing and cooking a main meal, they watched television until shortly after dusk. At quarter past six, they set off for work. The air was hot and moist, and rain hissed down, so they carried umbrellas. At the end of the street, they turned right and walked up to MacArthur Highway, waved hands at the heavy but slow moving traffic and, walking between the vehicles, crossed over. Fields Avenue was lit up, loud and lively, lacking only the throngs of foreign tourists that made it really swing. 

By half past six, they had shaken their umbrellas at the door and entered Talent Spot. Immediately, the cold, dry, conditioned air began to suck moisture from their clothes and bodies, and torpidity gave way to freshness. Blen loved that feeling as she entered the club; it marked her transition into a different person in a different world. Tonight she was disappointed to see only two customers chatting together, without girls, as they passed through to the rear. On stage, the dancers chatted amongst themselves, but moved without enthusiasm. The customers did not oggle them, and without hungry eyes to feed, the girls could not respond.

In the rear, girls slouched, napped, toyed with their cell phones or composed texts. The dog-days atmosphere of the rainy season had descended, and everyone was sleepily marking time, eking out an existence until the dry season arrived.

The girls grumbled about the lack of customers as they changed, then shuffled languidly into line for the changeover of sets at seven. At Mama's command, Set B filed off, as Set A filed on. Some immediately fell to chatting while Blen placed herself where she could best see her reflection and examined herself in detail, adjusting her costume until she felt she was presented to her best advantage. When satisfied, she studied her movements in the mirror, and practised moving smoothly and seductively. Some girls started to practise a formation step, and she joined in the line, quickly picking it up. 

Shortly after, the door girls chirruped, a shaft of light presaged the arrival of customers and a man in the company of a middle aged, Filipino woman entered. Blen moved to face the door. Seeing the woman, she decided against making a blow-job sign, uncertain if she would cause offence. The man definitely looked in need of a blow-job. His dejected face lent him the air of having recently been soundly beaten. After he spoke to the waitress, she went through to the rear, and re-emerged with Daddy Don and Mama, who strode over to his table. Daddy greeted him cordially, shook his hand, and ordered drinks for the table. All four then went into a huddle. Blen watched, aware this was not done in the normal course of geniality.

After five minutes, Daddy looked up at the stage, waved his arms and spoke to the waitress, who came over and beckoned to Blen, Girlie and Marivic.

"Go and sit with Daddy. He will have a little party for his friend."

While they crossed to the table, Marivic whispered, "It is Daddy Adam." 

Daddy seated the girls. "You sit up here ... and you here next to Adam." Blen and Marivic sandwiched him. "You sit here where Adam can see you." Girlie was seated immediately opposite. "This will be my little party for Adam, he's going away and I want him to have happy memories of Talent Spot. Make sure he enjoys his last night here, and it's a girl share for each of you. Now the waitress will bring your drinks."

Marivic gave Adam her best smile, took his right hand, and began to knead it in the manner of a hand massage. Blen moved to straddle his lap, as she did in her blow-job routine, then wiped down his face with a hot towel, which still steamed from the microwave, and began a sensuous face massage. 

This was one of the few transferable skills she had acquired in the province. Where entertainment was absent, massage was one of the few non-sexual pleasures with which they could indulge one another. Scalp, face and shoulder massage, which could be given to a friend or relative sitting in a chair, was extremely popular, and Blen had practised it for years.

Adam closed his eyes as the slow but firm strokes and circles of her fingers, prickled the hair on his body, and he inhaled the scent of her perfumed breasts into which Blen would periodically sink his face while working down the back of his neck and shoulders. 

"I shall miss all you girls, but I've had my turn."

Mama and his companion, who turned out to be Adam's Mama-san, Claire, chatted in Bisaya, and all the girls lent an ear to the conversation. Claire, who had just been released from jail that day, recounted their recent history of misfortune.

Adam owned a small bar up Perimeter Road, which had fifteen or twenty girls and opened from midday to ten. He spent all opening hours in the bar, and being very fond of the girls, in an attempt to foster a family atmosphere he provided them with food, and free accommodation with Mama Claire. To the rear of his premises was a small, discrete bar area with a small stage, and the girls liked to take regular customers in there and entertain them with a bold show. The girls made a lot of tips, and the customers enjoyed themselves. Adam felt it was sufficiently discrete not to attract the concern of the authorities. He was aware some of the girls had started giving little pussy shows - playing with bottles, picking them up with their pussy, smoking cigarettes, that sort of thing – but he felt this was a private arrangement between the girls and their customers, and was loath to put his foot down, particularly as the girls relied on their tips at this time of year to make the remittances which supported their children and families. 

Three weeks ago, he had been raided by National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) officers. The bar was quite orderly at the time, and all licences and permits for the business and girls were in order. Nevertheless, the NBI officers had arrested him and Mama-san Claire, and detained all the girls as victims of human trafficking. They were all hauled off to the NBI office at Clark Field, and locked up. While he was detained without being informed of any charge, his home was raided, and later in the afternoon, much to his astonishment, his wife's sister, a student nurse at Angeles University Foundation Hospital, was brought in.

Over the next day, all the girls were released, then he was confronted with affidavits from two of the girls claiming they were minors, and the case was passed to the city prosecutor for prosecution for trafficking a minor. Mama-san was charged as a recruiter. Adam called an experienced lawyer, who had taken the case in hand, and over the next two weeks the two girls retracted their affidavits saying they had been told by the NBI officers that they would not be released until they had told the 'truth'. Subsequent investigation showed that their documents were genuine, and their births recorded in the relevant registry. After two weeks, the case against him was dismissed, and he was released. 

His sister, who was still seventeen, was also cited against him, but the prosecutor was satisfied that she was a minor relative, unconnected with the bar, and she also was discharged after being detained for fifteen days as a rescued minor. For the last week of her detention, she had been eighteen.

Mama-san continued in custody on the charge of recruiting. Two days after his release, Adam was again arrested and detained based on affidavits sworn by two other of his girls. This time, the prosecutor looked at the girls, and would not accept the affidavits as a basis for prosecution without evidence that that their birth certificates were forged, or that their births did not appear in the relevant registry. Adam was released within hours. His bar was now closed and he had no girls, and no Mama-san. 

Mama-san Claire languished a further week, but when she appeared in court, the court would not accept the prosecutor's unsupported assertion of lewd and lascivious displays at the bar. The girls were all entertainers, licensed by Angeles City's Social Health and Welfare Department, and they all testified that they had been recruited as Guest Relations Officers and dancers, and served only in those functions, earning commission on drinks sold to customers. They sometimes could obtain early release from work if a customer had bought their quota of ten drinks for the day, but they were then free for the rest of the evening, and their leisure pursuits were not connected with the bar.




Bar Girl Ch. 04



Mama-san Claire had been discharged that morning. Her girls had by now become attached to other Mama-sans' stables, so she was unable to provide a line-up for Adam. Adam decided to cut his losses, and close the bar. He surrendered the rights to the landlord and handed back the keys. For the moment, he was moving to the province to stay with his wife's family, in the family home he had built.

"Someone had it in for you," said Daddy Don. "Either your landlord wanted the lease back, or maybe you were pulling too much trade from your neighbours. I heard your girls were giving pretty hot shows."

"Tame ... compared to what you see at a private party." Adam's voice, relaxed by the girls' attentions was slow and heavy. "The girls were enjoying geeing-up the customers, the customers loved it, and we were getting quite a few through the door. Have to admit, that was welcome at this time of year. We were covering the rent, drink and energy bills ... just ... but we would have made it through to Christmas. Everybody was happy, things looked balmy and my girls were sending money home ... which isn't true for a lot of girls in low season."

Daddy Don sympathised. "The lease is the killer; I own this lot and building outright. No lease. No Rights. I'd be in trouble if I had to pay rent. We're paying salary to a lot of girls, but only a few are making money for us right now. We have to keep the stage filled and retain the best girls for high season ... like these girls here," he added, "these are my top girls, but they're all dancing tonight. Got a couple out on bar-fine, but no new bar-fine yet today. 

Blen's my top earner this week. She's sucking the customers in, off the street. You've got a magic mouth haven't you Blen?"

"It is just practice, Daddy," replied Blen, as she finished her massage, and settled back into the seat, taking up Adam's left hand. 

"That was very refreshing," said Adam.

"Show Adam what you can do Girlie," said Daddy.

Girlie made her way round and, replacing Blen, straddled Adam's lap, ruffled his hair, kissed his forehead, and commenced her massage.

The party continued for a couple of hours. Daddy and Adam bought the drinks, and Daddy sent out for Pizzas. A couple of pizzas were also put up on the stage for the dancers and a couple sent into the back for the other girls. Then Adam bade farewell, and set off to take his leave of other friends.

When Blen remounted the stage, she was flushed with alcohol. A trickle of revellers in lively mood after a few hours bar-hopping was coming through the door. Though nothing like as rowdy as in high season, the atmosphere in Talent Spot was definitely animated. 

A guy swaggered through the door and Blen immediately turned towards him and gave the blow-job sign. He promptly returned it, and without breaking stride waved her down. She signed me-you to confirm, he nodded, she scampered down the steps, and over to where he sat.

"Are you the oralist everyone is talking about?"

"Oralist, Siir?" Blen, looking uncomprehending.

"The blow-job girl ... the cherry girl?" 

"Oh ... yes Siir ... that is me ... did you see me at the pool party?"

"No. But, there's been talk. They're saying you're the best, and I've decided to treat myself to a little of the best before I die."

Blen guessed he was between sixty and sixty-five, but he looked and moved like a man in good shape. "Well, you will have time to enjoy, you are young yet, Siir."

"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die. Have you heard that?" he asked Blen.

"No Siir, I do not know it."

"Well the Romans, Julius Cesar's people, wrote that to remind themselves that you never know when life will be snatched from you. I almost lost my life last night, so today I'm getting a little ahead on my share of the good things."

"What happen, Siir?" asked Blen.

"Last night, I was sitting in my sala with my wife, her sister, my kid and a couple of maids. There was a ring on the doorbell and my wife went to answer with the baby in her arms. Next thing the baby starts to cry, and I hear a funny noise, like someone trying to call out. 

"I grabbed my baseball bat and ran to the porch. There I find two guys, one with my wife grabbed round the face, and these two point revolvers at me. They shout at me in Tagalog. I start shouting at them to let go my wife, and wave my bat and advance on them. Two motorcycles pull up the path, with four more guys on them, and they all point guns at me. They won't let go of my wife, and I won't back down. Mys and the maids come out with brooms and sticks, and start shouting and screaming. 

"It's getting very tense. There are six guys holding my wife and kid hostage, and pointing guns at us. I thought they would open fire at any moment. I thought, this is it, a massacre. Then, neighbours start coming into the street, shouting. Someone fires a shotgun in the air. Thank fuck, the robbers lost their bottle. They let my wife go, mount up on the bikes, and drive off."

This sort of tale alarmed Blen. "And where is this, Siir? Is this in Angeles?"

"In Anunas, up by Friendship."

"Oh ... near. Did they catch the guys?"

"No. Not yet. Apparently, they're a gang of drug addicts who've been doing house robberies to finance their habit. The police know about them, but by the time they get a report of a sighting, they've gone. Even the bikes are stolen, they have no plates. They've beaten people, but not shot anyone yet. I think they were scared off by the shot gun." 

"In the province, Siir, before we answer the door at night, we load a round into our shotgun so the visitor can hear it. Shuck – Shuck," imitated Blen, "then, if they are a robber, they know we will shoot."

"Maybe I need to buy my wife a shotgun," her customer said, "I've spent all day having secure doors and spy holes and alarms and cameras fitted, so now we know who's outside. Also, my brother has moved in, so there's always a man in the house. Anyway, it reminded me that I'm mortal and I need to do the things I want to do. When the guys were talking about you sucking the chrome off their front bumpers I made a mental note ... but after last night, no more notes ... just do it I say, like on the T-shirt ... so I'm here for a blow-job."

"Well, I hope I do not disappoint, now you want the best, Siir," said Blen

"I'd like it with ice," said the stranger. "Can you do that?"

"You see, Siir, already I do not know that?"

"It's easy, one glass of ice, one cup of hot tea. First, you fill your mouth with ice, when the ice has melted you fill your mouth with hot tea, and away you go, again."

"I will try it, Sir," said Blen. She waved to the waitress. "One blow-job, and one glass of ice and one glass of hot tea, in the booth, please."

"Milk and sugar?"

Blen looked at her customer for an answer.

"No milk, but hot and sweet, just like Blen." 

Blen then took his hand, and led him to the booth.

The first glass of ice was sent back to be broken into smaller pieces, but soon Blen mastered the mouth of ice. Then the waitress was sent to fetch some bar mats to place on the customer's groin, to absorb the leaking fluids. Eventually the technique was perfected. 

As Blen gaped to receive her customer's semen. He said, "Hold still, watch this," and placed a bar-mat over her face. When his balls emptied, he picked the bar-mat off Blen's face, and turned it to her. Pearly white streaks of semen slanted across the mat, contrasting sharply with the black nap. "Have you seen that before?" 

Blen grinned. "No Siir, I have not."

"That's how we used to do it, down Blow Row. We had competitions, four or five of us. Who came first? Who produced the biggest load? We put stakes on the table, and the girl who produced the first blow took the money. The guy who produced the most come, had his bar bill paid by the other guys. It's so quiet now, but that was a blast from the past."

They made their way back to their original table and fell to conversation. 

Mama joined them. "Are you interest in this cherry?"

"Mama," wailed Blen, "he is married. My fate is married men."

"Maybe not. Soon there will be many single guys. There is no hurry."

"He show me some new way, Mama." Blen reported, and recounted her new trick.

Mama smiled at the mention of the bar-mat. "I remember well. I clear the table many times."

The following day, the lady-house was hot and humid. Fat raindrops drummed noisily on the corrugated metal roof all day, and the girls kept house. Thirteen girls in such a small house, showering, cooking and washing, then hanging up clothes to dry, resulted in an in-door humidity approaching saturation. They became irritable and quarrelsome. Some retired to lie sleeplessly on their beds, others sat against the outside wall being splashed by rain, finding this more tolerable than the clinging humidity indoors.

Blen fanned herself with an old newspaper and tried to enjoy the daytime TV, which was still a novelty for her. She was able to engross herself in the alternating games and celebrity chat shows, as the floor fan oscillated back and forth, sharing a little comfort between the TV addicts. 

The headline news story was of fighting in Jolo, resulting in five government soldiers being killed. Jolo was even further into the Sultanate than her parent's home province of Maguindanao. But the story rubbed on raw memories. She was pleased to hear that the army rangers believed they had inflicted a reverse on the Abu Sayyaf, whom she considered extremist brothers in arms of the Ampatuans. She wondered when the Government would repudiate this alliance of political convenience with the Ampatuans, and free her people of their brutal yoke. Inside she seethed. This news washed over her companions, for whom it was normality.

"Just Precious out on bar-fine," sighed Marivic. "It is so boring, I wish the customers were back."

"What is it like in high season?" asked Amor.

"In the holidays we come home only to change. There is not enough girls for the customers. Many customers have a favourite girl, and take her for all the holidays, sometimes away on a trip. Then, until June it is busy, it is easy to make your quota, but when the rain comes, the customers stay away, and we stay in the house."

Amor was mindful of her credit. "How soon now?"

"Another six weeks maybe, when the rain stop, then the customers will come back."

"Many of my customers are old," remarked Blen. "I like to meet a young guy."

"Just now it is retired guys," said Marivic. "They live here on their pension, many with their wife or girlfriend, so they like only the blow-job, because it is cheap and they cannot take a girl in their house. Many tourists are young guys, but many are married at home, so many times it is just marry in the evening, divorce in the morning."

The girls laughed.

"I do not like to fuck around too much," said Girlie, "I would like a boyfriend."

The others laughed again.

"If you are lucky, you will have many boyfriends," said Anabel.

"Will we fuck with a different guy each night?" said Amor.

"Of course, sometimes in the holidays I will fuck with three customers in one day. If I do not like my customer, I try another," boasted Marivic.

"How is that?" asked Amor.

"There are many Japanese guys come here. I pick a Japanese with my eyes, and then he will bar-fine me. But the Japanese guys all stay together. They like their friends for companions, they like girls only for boom-boom. They do not speak English, so it is just go to the hotel and boom-boom, then they like to go back with their friends. It is short-time for a bar-fine, and a big tip. If it is early, then I go back and pick another Japanese for a short-time bar-fine, then back and pick up a guy I like to look at, to go bar-hopping, and all night boom-boom."

"Sometimes, maybe," said Anabel sceptically.

"Yes, sometimes" said Marivic, "but with a Japanese customer there is always opportunity for another customer."

"They are 3x3x3 guys. They have a three inch dick, they bar-fine for three hours only, and give a 3000 peso tip," added Anabel.

The new girls liked the sound of that.

"But you will need to grow fat first, the Japanese like power in their girls, like on me, they like to hammer. You are thin yet, for them," Marivic told them.

"Amor is growing already," said Girlie, "maybe she will be ready for the holidays."

It was true enough. Amor's breasts no longer followed the concave curve of a champagne glass, but curved regularly to the nipple. Her skin looked a little softer, a little less defined. She and Blen still could pass as sisters, even twins at a push, but her skin was softening and thickening, whereas Blen remained lean, and her muscle mass increased.

"Blen is growing also," observed Marivic, "but she is growing muscles. It is the high protein supplement her customer give to her."

"Yes, I get a tip AND a free meal with every short-time," parried Blen.

"What is the taste?" asked Amor curiously.

"It is like cold sinigang, but the cook has add too much salt," Blen told her. "It would be good to dip sour mango."

"I do not think I would like it," said Amor dubiously.

"I remember, in the province you would eat day-old fish-guts, raw," said Blen, "Now, you are so fussy."

"Same-same. It is my pussy still that like to eat the cock," replied Amor.

"But Blen's pussy does not eat the cock," teased Anabel, "that is why she put it in her mouth."

"Soon, my mouth, my pussy and my ass," rejoined Blen.

"You will be a three-hole girl?" Anabel was surprised.

"Yes, me, Amor and Girlie, we will be satisfaction guaranteed girls for Mama."

"But you are ass-cherry girls?"

"Girlie has started now, she just waits her customer, Mama has earmarked Amor and me also, but first I must lose my cherry."

"Then you will not choose your customer. Mama can bar-fine you to any customer who ask for you. It is satisfaction guaranteed," Anabel cautioned.

This came as a surprise to the three girls.

Blen paused for thought. "It is OK. It is my fate, I can accept it."

"But if I refuse my customer because I do not like him, or I will not meet his requirement, Mama can give him to you. That is satisfaction guaranteed. That is why Mama wants satisfaction guaranteed girls, so she does not lose a bar-fine to another bar."

"What requirement?" asked Amor.

"Most is the ass-fuck, or the blow-job," said Marivic, "but many girls do boom-boom only. They will not go with a guy if he has requirements. I like discretion only. I do not go if the guy have a requirement. If I like him, or he is my prospect, then if he makes me horny, I will, but if I am not horny I will not do it." 

"Sometimes it is other requirements," added Anabel, "Many guys like to take your photo ... bold photos ... or make a bold movie. They like to put it on the internet."

"Or they like two girls, or sometimes two guys share one girl," continued Marivic.

"Is it two bar-fines?" interjected Blen.

"Yes, if they ask Mama, but it is satisfaction guaranteed," replied Anabel.

"Another thing is golden showers, some guys like the girl to pee on him or to pee on the girl," said Marivic.

"And some have costumes, some have sex toys, some like bondage," continued Anabel.

"But he can only do bondage with two girls, one is to take care only," said Marivic.

"And other things. I have a customer that like to spank my ass, then boom-boom me doggy style while I bark like a dog," said Anabel, "but I refuse."

"If you are satisfaction guaranteed, and refuse the requirement he has told to Mama, he can take you back and get a refund, even if you gave him boom-boom. But on standard bar-fine he can get a refund only if you refuse to boom-boom," explained Marivic.

"Do you ever refuse to boom-boom?" asked Amor.

"Sometimes, if the guy is a total ass-hole or if he is too drunk, or angry or if I feel sick when I look at him I refuse. Then I tell him I have my menstruation, or say I have an emergency and must go. Sometimes they will take me to Mama and get a refund, but I do not care," said Anabel.

"If he is just a creep or is strange in the bedroom I give him his boom-boom, and then make an excuse, but he cannot get a refund because he has had his boom-boom," said Marivic.

"Many nice guys are strange in the bedroom," Blen said defensively.

"Yes, but so are many creeps, that is why I like discretion."

"My customer shave my pussy," threw in Amor, referring to her only bar-fine so far.

"If you are happy, that is fine, but if you do not want that look, then he cannot shave, unless you are bar-fined, satisfaction guaranteed, and it is a requirement. Most guys like shave, so many girls shave anyway, so if he shave with you it is just fun for foreplay," said Marivic.

"If you shave, ask your customer for Veet, they will always buy you Veet," said Anabel.

She and Marivic laughed.

"What is it?" asked Amor.

"It is a cream to melt the hair on your pussy. It leave the skin smooth. The guys will always buy you Veet; it is a gift for himself."

"Mama said you would show us how to shave."

"It is best with two," said Anabel, "then you can shave each other. But start with scissors, then use a new razor, and use tweezers to pull any stray hairs. If you have Veet you can apply after that."

"I need to shave. My pussy is itching and I scratch now."

"I will show you. Have you scissors, a razor and some moisturiser?"

"Not yet," Amor told her.

"I will lend you, but give me a razor when you buy some."

Anabel went upstairs and returned with a wash bag and towels. 

"This chair is best." She indicated the plastic armchair in which Blen was sitting.

Blen rose and Anabel put a couple of cushions on the seat, draped a towel over them and down the front of the chair, and invited Amor to sit. Anabel disappeared into the shower, and reappeared with a washbowl of water, and a scoop. 

"Take off your shorts and briefs, lean back and hang your legs on the chair arms." 

Amor did so, and found her groin presented in a configuration accessible for shaving.

"This is how to do it. First, cut with the scissor as close as possible," said Anabel "It is easy to shave if the hair is short, the nearer to the skin it is cut, the better it will shave." She clipped away for a few minutes. "Now, I can shave. It is best with gel, or foam, or oil, but soap is OK so I will use soap." 

She poured water over Amor's groin, then rubbed a bar of soap across it, and used the tips of her fingers to agitate the soap into foam. "Always use a new razor, and shave against the slope of the hair, but do not press, just very gentle, do not scrape the skin. A new razor will shave without a press." 

Anabel proceeded to remove rectangular areas of foam, working away from Amor's pussy, revealing shiny, naked skin. The area expanded, first her pubic mound appearing, then the angles of her thighs, and then the septum of her anus. Removing the remaining crown of foam sitting over her labia left her groin hairless, streaked only with little lines of foam. 

"Run your fingers on the skin, so you can feel any unshaved hair," Anabel advised, and demonstrated.

When she felt Amor's skin was perfectly smooth, she doused it with water until it was free of soap, then taking a towel, dabbed it dry. Holding the tweezers, she examined Amor's labia and anus for stray hairs, which she plucked out - to little gasps from Amor.

"This is the good bit." She took a bottle of rubbing alcohol doused some over her pubis.

The alcohol ran down Amor's shaven skin and dripped off her anus. Some trickled into her vagina. Amor felt the, bracing but pleasant, sting of the cool astringent on her shaved skin, then, "Aieeeee," she clamped her legs together, clutching her groin.

Anabel laughed. "Just wait."




Bar Girl Ch. 04



Sure enough, a few seconds later, Amor relaxed as the sting of the alcohol on the sensitive skin of her vaginal entrance turned into a warm and pleasing glow. 

"O0000hhhhh ... Sexxy," she cooed.

When the alcohol had evaporated, Anabel took a tube of moisturiser, squirted a large dollop on Amor's pubis, then rubbed it into her shaven skin until it all but disappeared.

"There, that is it. You have the photo-model look."

Amor stood and looked at her reflection in the wall mirror. Her pubis was moist and she felt the cool eddies from the fan flutter between her legs. A glistening film of moisturiser flattered her nakedness. She admired herself, agreeing that it did lend her the erotic appeal of a photo-model. 

"I think this look suit me best." 

All her friends concurred.



Bar Girl Ch. 05



Chapter 5. "Belle."

Belle. Girlie goes "satisfaction guaranteed" with Belle. Hardcore tomboy sex. Jailbait victim, Paolo.

The afternoon proved so oppressive that, at dusk, the girls left for the air-conditioned refuge of Talent Spot. With umbrellas to keep off the worst of the rain, and dressed in shorts and flip flops, they splashed in puddles and stepped into rivulets, as spray, beaten up by the heavy rain, drifted onto their legs and clothing to condense. At MacArthur Highway, the lights of the many vehicles dazzled against the pitch black beyond, and their beams, refracted into starbursts by the spray, confused and deceived the eye. With trepidation, the girls made their way across, to arrive with relief at the foot of Fields Avenue. 

Door girls and guards huddled back into the doorways of the clubs, and the only foot traffic appeared to be girls making their way to work. Not a single potential customer could be seen in the street. On entering Talent Spot, all faces from the stage flicked towards them, bright with expectation, then turned back, sinking in disappointment as the dancers resumed their desultory conversations, dancing on with the utmost economy of effort. Blen and her friends, seeing the bar empty, sat up on the bench seats in the bar to enjoy the relief of the air-conditioning and let their clothes dry. A waitresses wandered over to gossip.

"How long it been like this?" asked Marivic. 

"Three customer only since we open. And only two ladies drink. No one like to go outside 'cos the rain."

The day had been boring, the evening looked like being worse, and the girls spent half-an-hour chatting before changing. Mama, who was sitting at her desk in the rear doing paperwork, paused to record them all present before going back to her paper. 

While they lounged around in their costumes waiting for their first set, Mama called Blen over. "Here is your copy of the contract." She spread a few sheets of paper in front of Blen. "This is the contract. These are the witness shots. And here are some of the feature shots that Daddy took. They show you off very nicely. And this is a short bio for interested parties."

Blen read the bio.

Blen Baitan

Blen is 18 years old, born 17th July 1988 in Desbilla, San Fernando Island.

Blen has worked in Talent Spot, since 1st September 2006, as a headline dancer.

Blen stands 137 cm tall, and weighs 36 Kg, slender, and light as a feather.

Blen has a lively, friendly personality, and loves to dance and laugh.

Blen is a virgin girl, but is looking forward to womanhood

Blen is pleased to come: 

"Satisfaction Guaranteed"

"Satisfaction guaranteed?" said Blen. "Mama, does that mean there may be requirements?"

"There may be. But you DO want to work satisfaction guaranteed, DON'T YOU? Well ... it will be best if you will start right now."

"I am not sure, Mama."

"Blen, it is in your contract you sign. I am the one to decide if there is a requirement. But, it will not be a problem. I remember, when I am fifteen I start to work in the bar, and after a month I go satisfaction guaranteed. It is my best move, not for money, but also for the joy. Men have strange ways, but they are harmless, and if a man will open up and enjoy his secret desire with you, you will share his great pleasure. If he will share his intimate secret with you, he will trust you. I look forward to a satisfaction guaranteed bar-fine. I start with my husband as a satisfaction guaranteed girl. You will find it tie a man with you and he will love you for it. I still have many friends all over the world, and our friendship start out that way. It will help you find a husband, as well as lose your cherry. In fact, there is one problem only; soon you will always wait the next customer with a requirement."

"But where is your husband now?"

"He die eight year ago. He is seventy-six, but I make him happy in his last years. He leave me with support, and we have two lovely children." 

"So, he was very old than you?" said Blen.

"Forty four years more old, but that is no barrier in love." 

"Still you are young, but now you are alone," observed Blen.

"I am available and I am still satisfaction guaranteed, as you will see. I know I will meet another man soon. Some of my old customers ask me to go to live with them, but I like here; if I go, I miss the adventure of a new man, and a new requirement."

"OK Mama ... It is my contract ... I give my word, so I must try it." Blen was tantalised and alarmed in equal measure by the prospect of requirements, but determined to fulfil her obligations.

No customer appeared in the bar until Blen danced her third set. 

The rule is that unaccompanied ladies are not allowed unless they work there. This customer was unusual, she was a lady, and she was alone. But, she was a blond lady the size of a Filipino man, chunky and athletically built. A sports shirt and shorts, evidently pressed, showed off her taut limbs, and her thigh and calf muscles bulged impressively.

After sitting and ordering, she stared intently, appraising the dancers. Several times Blen met her gaze, either as she glanced curiously across, or as she admired her own reflection in the mirror. Shortly, when Blen eye fenced with her, the woman waved her hand, then pressed two fingers in a V shape to her mouth and darted her tongue in and out through her lips. Blen frowned, paused, then made the you-me sign. The woman nodded. Blen looked around at the other girls, confused.

"She like to eat your pussy. She is a tomboy," explained Marivic.

When Blen looked back, the waitress was waving to her, indicating she was to come and sit with the woman. Blen made her way off the stage, but not with the eager scamper she had adopted for male customers. This gave her time to think, but she was still thinking when she sat down.

"Hi Blen, may I call you Blen? The waitress tells me that's your name. My name's Belle. Can I get you a drink?" The woman spoke garrulously, with an American accent.

"Thank you Maam, of course you call me Blen," she replied.

"You weren't here last year were you?" 

"No Maam, I am here one week only." 

"I was here last year, on an exercise, I made some good friends, but I don't remember you. You're very pretty, I would've remembered you. And please call me Belle, not Mam."

"On what exercise, Maam ... so sorree ... Belle?" asked Blen curiously.

"I'm with the United States Air Force, in communications. We were on a joint exercise out of Air Force City, up at Clark Field last year, so I got some liberty in Angeles. I really like you girls, you're so cute, and so much fun. I think WE could have some fun together. I'd like to pay your bar-fine and take you bar-hopping ... see how it goes."

Blen spread her mouth into a grimace. "Eeeeehhh - I cannot go bar-fine yet, I am a cherry girl." Unhooking her cherry badge, she handed it to Belle.

"What are the dollar signs for?" 

"It means my cherry is for sale, but it is from Mama, not from me because I sell it to her."

"I see. So you just dance for now."

"Just dance and blow-jobs." 

"Blow-jobs?" queried Belle.

"Yes we have a booth, and I can take my customer short-time, but blow-job only."

"Well, that is interesting. Have you ever thought of branching out, do you fancy a little rug-munching?"

"Rug-munching?" repeated Blen. 

"Eating pussy ... you know." Belle again pressed her fingers in a V against her lips and protruded her tongue.

"I do not do it before."

"Well, let's give it a spin."

"But I do not know how," said Blen.

"That's not a problem, I'll eat you. Just relax and enjoy, and when it's your turn you'll know what to do."

Belle's pretty face, winning smile, and young, tight body appealed to Blen, who thought for a moment, and decided she quite liked Belle - liked her better than many of her male customers - indeed found the prospect of intimate contact with Belle's body quite exciting. Furthermore, her heart had jumped when Belle proposed eating her pussy. The thought of those smiling lips pressed against her pussy caused the hairs on her neck to prickle.

"OK ... We can go in the booth."

Blen motioned the waitress over, and indicated the booth. Five ladies drinks were bought, and she took Belle by the hand and led her to the booth - with all eyes in the bar following. Behind the closed curtain, Belle examined the set up.

She indicated her lap. "I know how we'll do it, but first, come here." 

Blen straddled her lap, removing her camisole as she did for her male customers.

Belle took hold of her face, and kissed her long and deeply, her strong, assured tongue searched into Blen's mouth, fencing powerfully with Blen's. Blen loved it. Belle then started at her forehead, and peppered her with butterfly kisses, captivating and arousing her. She worked her way down over Blen's eyes and nose and cheeks, then her lips and chin, and down her neck, onto her breasts. The warm, tender kisses caused Blen to arch and purr silently. Belle sucked her right nipple between her lips, gripped it gently with her teeth and flicked it with her tongue. Blen felt it tingle and stiffen. Sucking the whole breast as far as possible into her mouth, she drew her head back, stretching the breast until it broke free of the vacuum, repeating this several times before turning to the left breast.

Eventually, she leaned over and moved the contents from the table onto the bench seat, lifted Blen on to the table in front of her and continued with butterfly kisses, down her ribcage, and onto her belly. As the kisses tickled downward Blen felt her body begin to glow with anticipation of what was to come. Belle explored her navel with her tongue, then disengaged.

"Just lie back and I will take off your thong."

As Blen lay back, Belle raised her knees to her shoulders, and worked her thong up her legs, and over her boots. She rotated Blen, lifted one leg, and placed it on the back of the bench seat, the other she hung over the side of the table. Blen lay back with legs wide open and eyes tight shut, waiting expectantly for the touch of Belle's lips. Belle now continued with the butterfly kisses, starting again from her belly, and working down to her pubis, then over each inner thigh. Blen tensed excitedly in anticipation. At last, Belle was planting gentle kisses on her plumping labia and Blen sighed with pleasure.

"This is how you eat pussy." Belle eased Blen's vagina open, then with slow and deliberate licks, began to explore between her labia, under her clitoral hood and over her anus. 

Blen quivered with pleasure. Her anus and vagina welcomed the eagerly probing tongue, and her elastic labia were willingly drawn through those gently sucking lips to be gripped and chewed playfully by Belle's pearly white teeth. Belle increased the power and speed of her tongue, and moved from location to location, Blen stirring rhythmically and letting out short deep sighs in response. The exploring tongue moved to the clitoris, pushing under the hood, and pressing it flat with its flickering pressure. Only the waitress, who was sitting nearby, heard above the loud music Blen's first groaning orgasm, as she contracted briefly and fell back in total relaxation, spent by an orgasm more intense than any produced by her own hand.

Belle, kissed her way back up Blen's belly, pleased with the effect she had produced. "Did you like that?" 

Blen raised her head, and stared into Belle's eyes. "Mmmmmmmmm," was all she said.

"Let's do it again," proposed Belle.

"MMMMMMMMM," Blen repeated, her head flopping back, and legs dropping akimbo in invitation.

Once more, Belle worked down to Blen's pussy, and danced her tongue round it in increasingly frenzied circles, settling on her clitoris two more times, on each occasion transporting Blen into ecstasy. Finally, she lifted Blen's limp figure back onto her lap. Blen lay against her, and they chatted until she regained her composure, and leaning back, beamed at Belle, who asked, "Can you remember what to do; you seemed to have your mind on other things."

"I remember. I can do it now."

She lifted Blen back into her seat then wriggled out of her shorts and briefs. Sitting on the table, she swung herself round to face Blen, pulling her knees towards her shoulders, and letting her legs drop out to each side. Belle was hairless, perfectly smooth and evenly tanned, right up to her inner lips.

"Show me what you've learned," she said.

Blen slid forward and ran her hands up to Belles belly, then dipped her head to lick and kiss her stomach. She worked her way back to Belle's pussy, and kissed the opening to her vagina, then parting Belle's labia, set to work with her tongue. Replaying in her head the patterns she had felt passing over her vagina, she tried to reproduce them, varying speed and pressure and location, and teasing, finally moving in, in earnest, on Belles clitoris. Belle stiffened, gasped, and greedily clutched Blen's head to her pussy.

"Keep it going ... Keep it going," she gasped.

Blen continued to buzz and vibrate Belle's clitoris for several minutes, as Belle continued to clasp her head tight against her pussy. Several times Belle contracted and sighed before she began to relax, and at last released Blen's head. While she lay back and recomposed herself, Blen made lazy circles round Belle's vagina with her tongue. 

Finally, Belle sat up. "Gee, that was good, you had me on a roll there, I think I came five times."

"One more time?" asked Blen, flattered, and returning Belle's courtesy.

"Oh sure," said Belle, "but first I need another drink."

The conversation became very girly as they refreshed themselves. Belle described how she came back to see a girl she really liked, but who had disappeared to God knows where. The girl was working until two months ago, but she left the bar to go to her province, and no one knew where. Even her cell phone was now dead. So, Belle was footloose-and-fancy-free in Angeles for two weeks, and looking for a girl. Blen confided how she had come here to marry a foreigner, and was hoping some nice guy would buy her cherry. 

At last, Belle was ready for her second treat. "Just one difference," she said, as she lay back, "push this into my pussy, base first." She handed Blen her fat, stumpy bottle of San Miguel. "It helps if there is something to grip," she explained.

Blen worked it in, base first, and pushed it home until only the spout showed in the entrance to Belle's vagina. Again she succeeded in inducing a rolling orgasm, and on each occasion the bottle would try to squeeze out, and she would rock her head, pushing it in and out with her chin, in a piston like action.

When they returned to their table in the bar, there were now a couple of groups of customers sat about, who took notice of this western girl holding hands with Blen.

Belle lifted Blen into her lap, and kissed and caressed her as they chatted. 

"Introduce me to some of your friends," she suggested. "Are there any tomboys?"

"No tomboys," Blen told her, and asked the waitress to call Amor and Girlie.

They came out, and sat up cautiously with Belle and Blen, but seeing Blen perched happily in Belle's lap, being stroked and kissed, they understood there was no cause for concern, and quickly relaxed. Blen introduced Belle, then introduced her friends telling them Belle was looking for a girlfriend, and described the lover who had disappeared. They immediately sympathised, and once more fell to confessional and girlie conversation. 

"What is it like with a girl?" asked Girlie curiously.

"I've never had a guy. I was into girls when I was ten, so I've never had a boyfriend. I like guys, I work with them, we get on great, I just don't want to have sex with them. But girls ... I've always got hot over girls," explained Belle.

"Me, I've never had a guy also," said Blen, and they all laughed, because she was a cherry girl. "But when Belle eat my pussy, I fall to heaven. When I am married, I will let my husband eat my pussy every day."

"Is it good like that?" asked Girlie.

"Sarap. Now I know why so many guys like the blow-job," said Blen, "If I knew before how good it is I would have raise the price."

The girls laughed.

"Now, you can rug-munch as well," said Belle, and turning to Amor and Girlie, "She is very, very good."

Mama wandered over to see what was happening, greeting Belle and the girls, and asking if everything was satisfactory. Belle confirmed it was, and invited Mama to have a drink. Mama sat with them.

"Blen is now a rug-muncher," said Amor.

"Welcome to the club," said Mama to Blen.

"Are you a rug-muncher?" asked Girlie, surprised.

"Yes, I was rug-munching before you were born," said Mama.

"Are you a tomboy?" asked Girlie, even more surprised.

"When I need to be. Like Blen, I am flexible," replied Mama.

"I wanted to take Blen back and ravish her, but now I'm horny as hell, and she's not on the take out menu," confided Belle to Mama.

"Well, we have other girls," Mama motioned across the bar with her arm. "Pick one. Pick two."

"But, no tomboys, I'm up for some hardcore tomboy action now," said Belle.

"No problem," said Mama, "We have satisfaction guaranteed girls available. There is me, I am always available, you will like my experience. And there is Amor and Girlie here, they are also my satisfaction guaranteed girls."

"Oh. What is that?" asked Belle.

"If you have a particular requirement, we guarantee that it will be met, or you get your money back."

"So I can have the party of my life?" Belle spread her arms.

"If it is agreed first," qualified Mama.

"Let me think about it." Belle sat back, and looked closely at Amor and Girlie in turn, then said, "Blen, why don't you let Girlie take a turn in my lap? Let's see how we get on."

Blen slid out of Belle's lap, and Mama looked at Girlie and pouted in the direction of Belle. Girlie slipped into Belle's lap, and as they chatted Belle felt Girlie relax into her. When her hands began to explore, Girlie did not react. They chatted some more, Belle engaged Girlie, and Girlie responded positively. After a while, she said to Girlie, "Let's just sit over there for a minute."

They moved to nearby seats where they could not be heard. Belle whispered in Girlie's ear and an animated conversation followed. Girlie turned and waved Mama over. There was a brief conversation with Girlie nodding, then Belle nodding. Finally, Mama turned and waved over the waitress, who filled her pad and issued a tab for Belle, and a slip to Girlie. Girlie waved and smiled as she passed the others on the way to change, and Belle and Mama rejoined the table.

Belle addressed the group at large. "Hot shit, satisfaction guaranteed tonight." 

"I am disappoint it cannot be me," said Blen.

"It will be on my next trip, no more cherry then," quipped Belle.

More drinks were ordered, and soon Girlie reappeared in the T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops she had worn to work.

When Belle finished her drink, she settled her tab with a generous tip, handed 100p notes to Blen and Amor and thanked them for their company. With Blen on one arm and Girlie on the other, she was escorted to the door, where she hugged and kissed Blen, and Blen hugged Girlie. Blen watched from the behind the door's curtain as the two girls, one a foot taller than the other and twice as thick, the other tiny, slender and fragile, walked up Fields Avenue hand in hand. She returned to Mama and Amor, who were now standing.

"Mama, what is hardcore tomboy action?" asked Amor. 

"You will find out if she bar-fine you next time," replied Mama. "Now, both of you, back on stage, this is your set." 

They trooped back to the stage, in step, Amor leading, with Blen behind, hands on Amor's shoulders.

The bar was more lively now. The two groups of customers had gaggles of girls sitting at their tables, and loud voices rose exuberantly as serious flirting took place. The girls on the stage moved with a lively step and exchanged raucous comments with seated colleagues.




Bar Girl Ch. 05



Mama signalled to Blen, who moved to the front of the stage, slipped off her camisole, rolled her stockings down to her boots, then rolled her thong to the tops of her thighs. She grabbed a pole, found her reflection in the mirror, and danced for herself. Leaning, hand against the pole, she undulated sinuously, then straddled the pole, and sank on her haunches opening and closing her knees. Pressing her chest against the pole, she clasped her breasts around it, pulled her nipples into points and released them. Finally, she grasped ice from the ice bucket, and rubbed each nipple with ice until it stood proud, then clasped the ice in her hands above her breasts and allowed the melt water to drip over her breasts and trickle onto her belly then down to her pubis and thighs.

While she was still admiring this effect, Mama clapped her hands. Blen grabbed her camisole and lined up with the other girls for the change of set. Again, Mama clapped, and she shuffled of stage with the others.

Blen and Amor lounged together, sitting against the wall of the changing area, boots pulled off, and heels drawn back against thighs, leaning in towards one another in discrete conversation.

"Did you know what Belle will do with Girlie?" asked Amor.

"No, but I like Belle, she was very nice with me, it was my best experience, maybe it will be good like that for Girlie," said Blen.

"Did you like to eat her pussy?"

"I liked it, it was joy for joy." 

"Do you think you will be a tomboy?"

Blen laughed and squealed. "No. Only for my customers, but not my relationship, I want my boyfriend for my relationship."

Mama approached. "That was a very nice dance, Blen. You turn their balls blue. We just have five bar-fines."

"Thank you Mama," said Blen, pleased with herself.

"Did you like Belle?"

"Of course, she is a nice girl."

"Did you enjoy having your rug-munched?" continued Mama.

"Yes, it was my best experience," Blen told her.

"Did you enjoy rug-munching?"

"Yes I enjoy it also."

"And ... I wonder ... did you expect that when Belle first call to you?"

"No, I was nervous; I do not know what will happen."

"Remember what I told you earlier about satisfaction guaranteed," said Mama, "Accept all experiences, and you will discover new friends and new joys. Tell Amor what I tell you. 

"Amor, soon you will have your first satisfaction guaranteed experience and you will need the correct attitude to make it work for you."

She left Amor and Blen huddled together, with Blen relating Mama's experience and advice.

Two more sets, and Blen and Amor headed home together. That night, just these two occupied their bed. Anabel and Marivic were two of the bar-fines resulting from Blen's dance.

The following day, the sun rose into a luminous blue sky. Shortly after six-am, Marivic had crept quietly into the bedroom, undressed, and lay down to sleep. By eleven, all the girls were lying awake and, still curled up, began to chat.

Blen, realising there was an additional body on the bed, raised her head to see it was Marivic. "Marivic, what time did you return?" 

"When it got light, I gave my customer a morning boom-boom, and said I need to change my clothes and go to Hygiene."

"Do you not like him?" asked Amor.

"He get on my nerves, he is a fussy guy, he tells me, do this, do that, sit here, sit there, do not speak with your friends, do not drink too much. Bar-hopping was boring. Then, in the hotel he tell me, do not watch TV, do not take from the fridge, he does not order any food or any drink. He tell me to shower, but he do not shower with me, then he lie on me and give me five minutes boom-boom, but no advance warning, so I do not enjoy it. Then he roll over, go sleeping, and snore so I do not sleep," complained Marivic. "I cannot go with him again. When the cocks crowed I play with his dick to wake him up, then he roll over so I give him a blow-job and he just come when I start, so I keep him hard but he just lied there. I rub my own pussy and pretend he is Aljur Abrenica, so I am ready, then I ride him cowgirl style, and give him a nice show, but he just lied like a dead fish, looking at me. Then I finish him with my hand, and he enjoy it, but he just lied back. I tell him I must go to Hygiene, and he says OK. He give me a tip, 100p only, then has the nerves to say he will bar-fine me tonight. He is a Cheap Charlie as well as a creep."

"Well it is one more bar-fine," said Amor.

"If he come in tonight I will say I have my menstruation. I give him a blow-job and a good boom-boom and he give 100p tip. He is a boss not a boyfriend," said Marivic.

"Amor, maybe you will get your first satisfaction guaranteed tonight," said Blen, teasingly.

"What will be his requirement?" wondered Amor.

"He will require that he annoy you until you scream," said Marivic, and the girls laughed.

Before breakfast, they took the damp clothes from yesterday's big wash, which hung from every vantage point in the house, and moved them to the lines strung across the courtyard. These were now being vacated by the neighbours, who had risen at six-am to wash and hang their laundry. Under the hot, high sun, their clothes dried completely in two hours.

They walked, in a gaggle, up to the main road, and purchased vegetables and ingredients for their meal; the mid-afternoon was spent sharing cooking tips, and preparing a meal, which they ate together, before washing up, and relaxing once more in front of the TV.

Anabel returned in late afternoon. She enjoyed accompanying her customer, but was disappointed when he dismissed her with 300 pesos, and a promise that he would bar-fine her again before he went home.

"He want to be a butterfly on this vacation. So many guys like to bar-fine with me. We have fun. I give them a number one boom-boom, then they like to try another girl. They hope for better," she complained.

"You need a magnetic pussy, like Precious," said Amor.

"Don't tell me about Dreamboat," responded Anabel testily. "What has she got I do not have. Maybe she put some magic powder in their food. I do not know why she is attractive to foreigners. She look like her job is in the field, pulling weeds."

Blen thought to herself that this might be part of her success. Many of the girls looked like gaudy, cheap, disposable toys, and maybe that was the way the tourists used them. Precious dressed in plain, clean, well fitting clothes without any sparkling adornments and was restrained but attentive, in her behaviour. With her customers, she looked like a girlfriend rather than a bar-fine, and when seen walking together in the street, no one would think that she worked in the bar. Blen decided she would try that herself. She would be a slut in the bar, a whore in the bed, but a girlfriend in public.

The day was fresh and balmy, so the girls delayed as long as possible their departure for Talent Spot, then hurried up the road to rush in at the last moment. With fifteen minutes to spare, they entered the changing area, reported to Mama, briskly donned costumes, and preened.

Just before seven, Girlie rushed in. To a chorus of greetings, and barrage of questions, she made her presence known to Mama, pulled off her clothes, pulled on her costume and joined the end of the moving column of girls as they mounted the stage. 

There were two customers, not many, but they were unaccompanied, so there was the potential for a bar-fine. Blen dutifully came to the front of the stage and in turn, caught their eyes and gave the blow-job sign. Both smiled agreeably enough, but continued to sip their beer and quietly contemplate the girls. Having no luck she fell back with Girlie and Amor. 

Girlie was already telling her tale to Amor. The three swayed close together in a little group, heads turned inwards, so they could hear over the loud music. 

Belle had been her best customer yet. They had bar-hopped until two-am, and got very drunk. Belle bought ladies drinks in every bar, and was very popular with the girls. Two, she had bar-fined on her last trip, and Girlie felt that they were a little jealous, and resented her. Their friends confided that they were tomboys also. 

"What happen when you go in her hotel?" asked Amor, anxious to find out what hardcore tomboy action was, "What was her requirement?"

"She like me to fuck her with my hand, and then she fuck me like a boy, with a rubber talon," said Girlie.

"You do not mind it?" 

"She is very strong. In the shower she just pick-me-up, turn me over and eat my pussy so I am already very horny, then she ask me to eat her, so I kneel down and she just stand over me and I can eat her pussy. Then she tell me to put in my hand, she fold my hand, but it just went right in, so my hand is too small. She give me the soap to hold, then it is tight, she like that, and she like me to fuck her with my arm, she like me to go in deep," started Girlie.

"What about the rubber talon?" pressed Amor.

"That is later. First, she lay me on the bed and eat my pussy again, then I eat her pussy. Then she put her fingers in my pussy, she knows a special way, and she rub me inside until I pee when I come. She try it with my fingers, but I do not know this trick."

"What about the rubber talon?"

"That is next. She have a strap-on cock. She put it on, like briefs, and strap it to her so she is like a man, but the cock is much bigger than a man and it is electric. It is moving. So she let me kneel on the bed, and fill my pussy with lube, then fuck me doggy style."

"Is it like a man?" asked Amor.

"No. It is bigger and it is harder and it wriggle, it prickle the inside of the pussy, and there is a piece at the bottom that vibrate on my clit, so I come very quick, and collapse on the bed.

"She pick-me-up, and just hold me under my legs and enter it into me and fuck me again. Then she lay me on the bed and she is kissing me and the cock is inside me wriggling, and the vibrator is on my clit, and I just keep coming. Then she turn it off and cuddle up with me, and she kiss with me, and we fall asleep. Then in the night she take it off."

"Do you enjoy it?" continued Amor in fascination.

"Yes, it make me keep coming."

"It was like that, when Mama gave me the vibrator for the photos," said Blen, "I just want to come."

"Then in the morning she is just hugging me and kissing me, and watching TV," continued Girlie, "and she order room service for breakfast. Then she like to sex with me again. She eat my pussy, then she like me to fuck her with both hands. She sat in the chair and I clasp my hands and enter into her, and she like me to go deep again and fuck her, and she is rubbing her clit and come again. Then I eat her pussy, she like it for a long time."

"And then?" prompted Blen.

"Then, no more boom-boom," said Amor. "She take me in SM Mall and buy me a swimsuit, then we go in Margarita and drink beer and play some pool, then we go back in the hotel and we are swimming, and she like to sunbathe, but I stay in my towel. Then we eat in the hotel. Then we go in the room. She is very sweet to me, she like kissing me, so she gives me 500 pesos."

"Will she bar-fine you tonight?" asked Blen.

"No, she will bar-fine a tomboy tonight." She dropped her voice so as not to be overheard. "But after my shift, I will go to her hotel, she like two girls, and she will give me 1000 peso."

"You will not become a tomboy will you?" asked Amor.

"No, not a tomboy ... just rich," answered Girlie.

There was a trickle of custom through the bar, but Blen's oral skills were not called upon. In late evening, she was sitting on the benches in the bar when a young man, about thirty, well knit and well dressed, came in. He took a seat and ordered a drink, then sat staring at it looking distracted. Blen liked the look of him; she thought he seemed boyfriend material. He did not look around, so she could not catch his eye. The girls conferred and agreed that he would be a nice boom-boom, but he seemed unapproachable.

Blen decided to take the initiative. She wandered over, and stood across the table from him. The table was breast high to her and she fixed him with her gaze, and waited. Sensing a presence, he lifted his head and looked at Blen. She gave him her best, dazzling smile, then stuck her tongue in her cheek and pumped her hand. He looked confused.

"Would you like a blow-job Siiiirrr, very special, nice with ice, satisfaction guaranteed," she trilled seductively.

The man looked hard at her. "How old are you?" he demanded sharply.

"18 years and 3 months, Siir," she trilled.

"You look 16. Where is your licence?" 

Blen unclipped her licence from her boot, and handed it to him. 

He studied it and glanced at her. "Yes, it's your photo anyway," he muttered, and continued to scrutinise the licence, "It's dated yesterday."

"Yes Siir, I am new, I am just come from the province."

The waitress now appeared. "Would you like to buy the girl a drink?"

The customer nodded without enthusiasm and Blen clambered into the seat next to him. Silence ensued, and the customer continued to stare at Blen's licence.

When her drink arrived, Blen took a sip. "Thank you Siir. My name is Blen."

He handed her licence back, and she clipped it back on her boot.

"When did you arrive, Siir?" she tried.

"Three days ago." He was curt.

"So I will see you many times before you go home, Siir. Maybe next time you like my blow-job?" 

"I'm going home in the morning," he snapped.

"Is there a problem Siir?" 

"Yes, there's a problem."

A tense period of silence ensued.

"May I give you a free massage, Siir? Maybe it will help your problem?"

He looked into her eyes, and she softened her expression, trying to look sympathetic. "OoooK," he agreed, only half reluctantly.

She straddled his lap and began to knead his shoulders. "Just relax and lie back, Siir."

He was tense. 

"More relax ... More relax."

He unstiffened a little. Blen pushed his head back, and started to knead his temples with her sharp and precise fingers

.

She dropped her voice to a purr. "Is that nice, Siir?" she cooed.

"Very nice," he accepted.

She worked over his face. "You have a very handsome face, Siir. You have a nice long nose. You have kiss-me lips," Blen's voice was hypnotic and motherly, "Just think good thoughts. Think of your childhood, your happy days, sitting in you grandma's lap, playing in the sun." 

Eventually, she pulled his face forward and rested it against her breast, and began to massage down the back of his head. She could feel his slow breathing; cold air being sucked from the top of her left breast through his nose, and then hot breath being expelled over the bottom of her breast, causing her camisole to billow. His body had ceased fidgeting, and she could feel the tension leaving his muscles.

"Did your girlfriend leave you, Siir?" she suggested. "Never mind, I am available. Many girls are available. Did she fall in love with another guy while you were away?"

"No. I never had a girlfriend here. This is my first time in Angeles, and I've been fucked in a way I never expected," he confided.

"Ohhhh ... How so?"

"Your bloody police fucked me," he said heatedly, tensing his body.

Blen hugged him back into quiescence. "Yes, Siir, the police are bad, but tell me what has happen?" 

"I am staying in a nice hotel on A. Santos," he began, in a slow and deliberate voice - and unfolded his story in fits and starts, with Blen prompting, - "but the area is a dump. There are lots of seedy little bars there. I arrived Monday afternoon, and after I settled in the hotel, I thought I would look around. I walked up A. Santos Street, and the girls were calling me to come into their bars. Near the top, this guy starts to speak to me. He's a transvestite. I've never met a tranny, so I'm curious, I chat with him." He tensed and paused.

"Go on, Siir, I'm listening," soothed Blen.

"He asks if I'm looking for a girl ... and I tell him that's why I've come six thousand miles ... of course I'm looking for a girl. He tells me that I can get girls from the bar, cheap, but girls who are off shift and who breakfast at the eatery around the corner. All the girls go there to eat, he tells me, and I can pick one up for 300 pesos, same girl as you get in the bar but half price or better, and you don't need to buy ladies drinks. I wasn't really interested, I'm not cheap. But I was walking that way. We come up on this eatery. It's called Linda's."

"Yes, I know Linda's, Siir," said Blen.

"Anyway, he points inside at the girls eating, and singles out this real looker. She has a drop-dead figure, but she looks about sixteen. I tell him she can't be a bar girl, but he says he can check. If she has her licence, she works in the bar, and is over eighteen. Before I know it, he goes in and speaks to her, and they come out together. She has a lovely figure, very busty, and nice legs. She gives me a come-on smile, and says she can go with me for 300 pesos." He paused again.

"And?" prompted Blen.

He swallowed to suppress his emotions. "She tells me she works in Talent Spot, and can go short-time with me till six-pm and, if I enjoy her, I can bar-fine her tonight. The tranny asks if she has her licence. She pulls a licence out of the back pocket of her shorts, and gives it to him. He shows it to me, and it's just like yours. It has her photo and name, Gloria Mendes. It all looks correct. Her photo matches and everything. She looks young, but I assume she is eighteen. She's the kind of girl I'm here for, so I agree. I take out 300 pesos, but she says to give it after we have boom-boomed. I give a 100p note to the tranny, who is still hovering, and thank him. Can you believe that?" Her customer was bitter. "I walk back towards my hotel with her, and as we get near she asks if it is my hotel. I say yes, and she says she is not allowed in there, because two men were fighting over her. She says there's a cheap love hotel around the corner that we can use, 300p for six hours."

He paused again. Blen could feel tension return to his body, and his breaths grew deeper.

After she felt this surge of emotion subside, she asked, "And then what happen, Siir?" 

"I sensed something wasn't right. I should have bugged out at that point, but by now, I'm really wanting to fuck her so badly, I'm thinking with my dick. Sure enough, two minutes away is a love hotel, we book in and she asks if we can order food and drink. No problem. She undresses and stands there stark naked. Her body is terrific. I've got wood in a big way. She says she'll take a shower, and goes into the cubicle. Five minutes later, there's a knock on the door. 

"I think its room service, but when I answer the door, two policemen barge in. I protest, and the girl walks out of the shower, still stark naked, screams, then dodges back in. I'm stood there with a towel wrapped around my waist, and it's fucking well tenting because I have a raging hard on. And there's a naked girl in the shower. The police look at the tent in a snide way and say they've been keeping this hotel under observation because of reports that minors are being prostituted here. 

"I tell them the girl is eighteen, and works in the bar, and she has her licence in her pocket. So, now she won't come out of the shower. They pick up her clothes and search through the pockets, and pull out an ID card. I'm feeling very relived, when he holds it up for me to see. Fuck! It's her school ID card with her photo on, and it gives her birthday as 17th May 1993. That makes her thirteen. I now know I've been fucked over, but I think she is being pimped by this tranny. I tell them what happened and ask them to search her clothes again for the fake licence. They search again, and say there is nothing there. I know I'm in deep shit. My heart is pounding and I'm shaking. Everything is a fucking disaster. I can't think."




Bar Girl Ch. 05



His body had now become very tense. Blen used big motions to relax his larger muscles and his tension reduced somewhat after a few seconds.

"Go on now," Blen instructed him.

"Well," he brought his breathing under control, "the girl now comes out of the shower in her towel, and sits on the bed and sobs. A police car turns up. I'm handcuffed and taken away to the police station. In the car, the police tell me that this is paedophilia and is very serious. I'm paralysed. At the police station, the handcuffs are taken off, and I'm put in an officer's room where I sit for an hour. I imagine it's the end of my fucking life. The officer eventually comes in with an affidavit and says the girl has given an affidavit, and has been released into the custody of her mother, since she's a minor. He tells me the mother is upset and wants to file a complaint of trafficking a minor, and the penalty is a mandatory twenty years and 1,000,000 peso fine. I'm nearly in tears. I appeal to him. I tell him my side of the story. He appears to think about it. He tells me he believes me, he is sympathetic. He says that the tranny is well known, but they do not have evidence against him. He believes I was tricked, but the evidence is all against me. He says I need to see a lawyer, but also offers to see if the mother would withdraw all complaints in return for compensation ... if I would consider that."

He pauses to control his emotions again. This time Blen just waits until he is ready to resume.

"This is like a lifeline, I seize it desperately. I ask how much. He tells me that if I think in terms of the 1,000,000 peso fine, a quarter would be reasonable. I do some mental arithmetic and work out that that is about 18,000 dollars. I only think about it for five seconds. I have more than enough to cover that in a cash account, and it's only two months wages to save the rest of my life. I'm fucking desperate to get out of this, so I agree. 

"He goes away, and I sit another hour fucking praying that the mother will accept. He comes back and says the mother will. I start to cry, I'm so relieved. I even thank him. That's not the end. I'm then kept in custody for two days, just driven to the internet café to arrange the transfer and then to the bank to withdraw the transferred funds. Back at the station I give the money to the officer, and he tells me that is the last I will hear of the matter. He tears up the girl's affidavit and drops it in the waste bin. He opens the door and I'm free. I've never felt so relieved in my life as when I left that police station."

"That is bad, but now you can enjoy your vacation with some good girls, Siir." Blen, assured him.

"First thing I did was book the earliest flight home," he said sharply, "I've had enough of this fucking country, I just want out. I'll never come back again. I was going to stay in my hotel until my flight, but, lying on my bed thinking about it, I realised it was all set up. The cops were in on it from the start. I only came out tonight because I wanted to check out Talent Spot. I wanted to see if she did work here. To see if she was eighteen. And you know what, on my way here a car passes, and she is sitting on the back seat. She sees me and smiles, and gives a thumbs up sign. I think I bought that car. So ... is there a girl called Gloria Mendes working here?"

Blen had continued to massage his head and neck as he breathed his story warmly over her breasts. "I do not know the name, Siir, but I can ask Mama." She pushed his head back, and massaged his face until he looked at peace. "Just relax now, and enjoy your beer, and I will ask Mama." 

She slipped off his lap, and disappeared to the rear. A few minutes later, she returned with Mama and Daddy.

"Good evening, Sir," said Mama, "Blen tells me you are looking for a girl, Gloria Mendes?"

"Yes. She said she works here."

"I never had a girl by that name. What did she look like?" 

The customer described her. 

"I do not recognise her. I do not think she tells the truth," Mama told him.

"No. Not a lot of truth. It's all been fake documents and fucking lies. I think her license was fake and her school ID was fake. I think even her mother was fake."

"You're not going to say you've been caught with an underage girl are you?" chipped in Daddy, who had been wondering what it was all about, but was now guessing what was coming.

Blen summarised the story to Daddy.

"Who was the officer? What station?" asked Daddy Don.

The customer gave him a name and station number.

"You were fucked over all the way. They've set it up with the belly boy. Those guys don't police this area. They just come down here to rip off tourists. They even set up a traffic checkpoint on Perimeter Road the other day, and were stopping all the foreign motorcyclists. If they weren't wearing a helmet, or had sandals on they were taking their licences and pretending they would prosecute ... until they were offered bribes. The local police had to go and tell them to piss off. You don't even have to wear a helmet on Perimeter; it's not a national highway."

"This wasn't just a couple of bucks," said the customer, "they said I would go to prison for twenty years, they screwed me for 18,000 dollars."

Daddy Don looked stunned, and remained silent for a second. "That's a big hit."

"Thank fuck I can afford it. I can't imagine what would have happened if I didn't have cash in the bank."

"It would just have taken longer. They would negotiate, and you would have to raise a bank loan, or borrow from friends," Daddy told him.

"And I could lose my job. Imagine what would happen if it was in the papers that I had been arrested as a paedophile," he said, "You're fucked. They have you over a barrel. Even if you get acquitted your life's fucked." 

Daddy agreed. "That's why you should only take a girl from a bar, and pay Mama-san. Mama-san will take care of any problems. She has all the documents to prove the girl's age and can confirm she was on early release from the bar. The prosecutor won't even entertain a complaint of rape from a girl on early release from the bar."

"We have many beautiful girls here. No rip-off guaranteed," said Mama, motioning to the stage.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, I can't wait to go," the customer responded.

"Then take a girl just one night, enjoy yourself and you will come back again. Come in Talent Spot and choose a girl, and I guarantee no problem," cajoled Mama.

"I'm taking no chances; I just want the plane to take off so I feel safe." The customer was emphatic. 

"You will be safe in the bar here, Blen will take you in the booth and give you a number one blow-job," tempted Mama.

"I would like just to sit here and enjoy her massage."

"I will massage your face and my friends can massage your hands, Siir," suggested Blen.

"Sounds good," said the customer, "by the way, call me Paolo."

"Well, enjoy," said Daddy, and he and Mama drifted away as Amor and Girlie arrived at Blen's bidding. 

"This is Paolo. He like a massage."

For the next three hours, the girls sat with him, the ladies drinks arriving at regular intervals as they took turns in his lap, and they told him their stories and chatted and he lay back and let the pleasure roll over him. When he finally paid his tab, they all kissed him, and walked him to the door.

As they re-entered the changing area, Daddy called out to Blen. "Your customer is a fucking idiot. He's giving the cunts $18,000. That's raising the bar for everyone. If he'd got a lawyer it would be $5000 tops. Now the fucking chisellers will think everyone can pay $18,000. They'll be asking us to pay more. Someone ought to whack that fucking belly boy. He's fucking with us using our name. I'll fix his game. It's fuckers like him who scare off our business. If it gets out that guys are being fitted up for $18,000, who the fuck will come to Angeles."

"He is just my customer Daddy," pleaded Blen, taken aback by this tirade.

At closing time, after they left Talent Spot. Girlie peeled off to keep her tomboy assignation and Blen, Amor, Anabel and Marivic walked home together.



Bar Girl Ch. 06



Chapter 6. Bar Girl Routine.

A Bar Girl's world. Fatal Accident. Olav the irrepressible. The girls' first payday. Amor meets shabu. Girlie has a happy encounter.

By the end of her first week at Talent Spot, Blen was well on the way to developing a personal stage image, and by incorporating elements of performance, had established her niche in the bar. When customers entered, she would move to the front of the stage and flamboyantly wave both outstretched arms up and down to attract their attention, then make the BJ sign, and point towards the booth. When Mama signalled, she would drop her camisole and dance directly opposite the indicated customers, in choreographed manoeuvres, using her thong and the bar poles as effective props. Though business was slow, her assiduous soliciting had interested two or three customers sufficiently each evening to result in trips to the booth, and her raunchy displays kept bums fixed in seats for a second or third drink.

Her performance in the Wet-T contest had impressed Blen on the mental map of desirable girls, which many locals kept in their heads, and with her, the route to Talent Spot. Following the rush of custom on Monday night, rumours had filtered through the ex-pat community, who had little to do but play pool and gossip, of this pretty and biddable young oralist at Talent Spot, who tried to hypnotise her customers. Some, not content to recycle this fun to relate piece of tittle-tattle, decided to form their own opinion. Consequently, Blen had spent much of the week bringing contentment to the sunset years the proactive pensioners of Angeles City.

Blen calculated that she was earning about 1250p in commission and salary, and this ensured she began each shift motivated and enthusiastic. She was able to pay her daily living expenses out of her miscellaneous tips. She was even getting return customers already. On Friday night, Mr Hirohito greeted Blen like an old friend.

Blen was no longer worried about credit. In fact, she was confident enough to buy more costumes from Mama's catalogue, and was positively looking forward to sending an impressive remittance to her sister at the end of her first fifteen days when her salary and commission would be paid. Amor, whose credit was much greater, was doing less well. Although more sexually experienced than Blen, she did not have a stage presence. 

Some girls catch the attention of customers by verbal assault, some by outrageous exuberance, some, like Blen, were natural exhibitionists who thrilled in nakedly exposing their teenage charm for consumption by hungry eyes. Amor did not have a strategy that came naturally to her, and tended to fade into the background. If she found herself 'one-on-one' with a customer, her attractions - and she was quite as pretty as Blen - were quickly appreciated, but such occasions were rare in the bar, where all the girls competed keenly for each customer's attention. Apart from one bar-fine, she was averaging 50 pesos a day from ladies drinks earned when a customer would buy drinks for a group of girls and she happened to be in the group, or when a customer rang the bell and bought all the girls a drink. To pay her rent and interest she would need 4800p, and then another 1500p for food. She was on track to come up short, and would need another six bar-fines just to break even on the month. That, with no money remitted home. Six bar-fines seemed unlikely. 

Life had settled into a routine of nights in the bar, and days in the lady-house relaxing and recuperating. Girlie held her own in the competition for clients, and was occasionally away on bar-fine, so it was Blen and Amor who found themselves constant companions and confidants at the bar and lady-house. Blen paid for all Amor's food to make things a little easier for her. 

Amor could see the possibilities of prosperity, but her credit seemed always to move fulfilment beyond her grasp. However, she loved her new life. The lady-house was comfortable and companionable. There was always interesting conversation to be had. Vendors, knowing that the girls had spending power, would frequently call to demonstrate the tempting trinkets they had for sale. The girls, who had been out on bar-fine, would return with tales of their customers; how nice or awful they were, how good they were in bed, or how disappointing, and especially, how well they tipped. Amor compared the comfort and fun of her present life with the arduousness of her life a few weeks before, labouring in the fields under the hot sun all day for several bowls of rice, returning home tired and dirty at dusk, to fall asleep on a mat on the floor. By contrast, dancing to her favourite music in an air-conditioned environment, then sitting and talking with her friends did not seem like work at all. Sleeping on a sprung mattress was a new and pleasurable experience, as was having leisure time to sit and watch television. The girl-talk was upbeat, and always fascinating. In the province, talk was of how bad life would be, now the talk was of how good. She could also see things coming right for the other girls. 

Girlie was earning enough money to clear her credit in a few months. Blen would clear hers on her first payday, and send money home. Precious was doing best of all. She had started referring to Klaus, not as her customer, but as her boyfriend. He had told her he would return to see her again, in a few months. But, for Amor, the heavy burden of her debt cast a very dark shadow over her future.

As the experienced girls discussed their customers, it became clear that the worst put down was that he was "Cheap Charlie". Of course, the bar-fine was an all-inclusive fee, but the girls always tried to give something more than a fuck measured in pesos.

Most customers came simply to gorge on enough sex to last them through the sex famine that awaited them at home for the rest of the year. They lacked a biddable or affordable companion in their own country, and for a brief period wanted to enjoy the warmth of a soft body laid against theirs, and the gentle grasp of a velvet vagina on their dicks, in place of their familiar, coarse hand. But, when a girl provided the full 'girlfriend experience' and not just the hooker experience sometimes available back home, but the full 'fantasy girlfriend experience', love and lust combined; then giving the girl only her trike fare home, or worse, nothing, as a tip, made the girls very angry. Appreciation, crystallised as a generous tip, recognised the girls' special effort, and absolved the customer of many minor faults. 

On Friday, shortly after the sun had ceased to climb in the sky, Precious finally returned to take up her bed at the lady-house. She came bearing bags of booty - gifts bought for her by Klaus while in Puerto Galera - and small gifts she bought for her friends. This was her first real experience of the lady-house and the girls she would live and work with. Customers being so scarce, during the day, the lady-house was crowded with its full complement of boarders. Then, at night, the six roommates would lie in an orderly row across the bed. 

Having paid the trike driver, Precious smiled at the girls sitting on a rank of chairs placed outside the lady-house. Some she had seen at Talent Spot, but owning to her customer appeal she had not had the opportunity to become acquainted with them. She made a tentative entrance into the living room. Amor, who was sitting with Blen watching television, shrieked her name, and a noisy rush to embrace ensued. 

Amor took her hand, and led her back outside. "Come and meet our roommates."

"This is our kababata, Precious," she told the row of seated girls. 

Amor then introduced them individually, concluding, "... and Anabel and Marivic are our roommates, the other girls are in the front bedroom."

Pleasantries were exchanged, then the four girls returned inside and showed Precious up to their bedroom. Amor gave her the key to her locker, and they squatted on the bed. Precious opened her bags and handed a Puerto Galera T-shirt to each of her friends. Then she pulled out beachwear, jeans, shorts and costume jewellery, which Klaus had lavished on her.

"Tell us about Klaus," pleaded Amor, "What is he like?"

"He is available, he is a single guy, he has his house in Germany and his job is from the government."

Amor clasped herself with delight.

"Malibog?" asked Blen, curtly.

"Always horny," confided Precious, "he always gives me boom-boom before sleep and when he wake. Sometimes he like to boom-boom me five times before he is tired."

"Aaiieee. I want boom-boom," cried Blen, "I'm hungry for boom-boom, may I borrow him one night only?"

"Cherry girls last," suggested Amor, "experience girls first. Maybe he would like two girls, Precious. I will go. Ask him."

"I do not allow him two girls," said Precious firmly, "When we marry maybe, but now I do not want distraction."

"Marriage!" chorused the girls.

"Really, he ask you?" asked Amor.

"Not yet ... but I know he enjoy me ... I make him happy ... So ... why not?"

Anabel, who had come into the room, remarked, "You can give one-hundred-per-cent but that is not enough for some guys, they will take your one-hundred-per-cent and butterfly to a new girl."

"Klaus is not like that ... he is a nice guy," replied Precious.

"All the girls like a nice guy, but a nice guy also like all the girls," was Anabel's discouraging response.

"And some nice girls like the girls also." It was Girlie, who was now standing beside Anabel in the doorway.

Precious rushed to hug her, and the other girls waved and greeted her enthusiastically.

"Did you know Girlie is a tomboy now?" Amor said to Precious.

"What is this? What has happen?"

Blen related Girlie's recent adventures in saphism, and when she had brought Precious up to date Amor urged, "Tell us about last night. Did you have three girls in the bed?"

Girlie sat down with them.

"It open my eyes," she began, "I did not know how tomboys enjoy each other before."

Part of each day was passed in gossip between the girls present about those who were absent, often catty venting of resentments and jealousies. Some girls resented Blen's closeness with Mama, and were jealous of her earnings. Picking up Daddy Don's usage, a catty little jibe would be made about 'Mama's little sperm-hoover.'

'Mama's little sperm-hoover has left her toothbrush in the shower. Do not steal it; you may catch a nasty disease.'

Precious was Dreamboat. 

'If Dreamboat tell me how wonderful Klaus is, just one more time, I will scratch her eyes out.'

Amor was Mousey, because of her timidity. 

'Was Mousey working last night? I did not see her, was she hiding under a chair?'

Girlie, who was neither too successful nor too unsuccessful, was a lightning rod for little resentment and fitted in well with most of the girls. 

When not passing time in the lady-house, the girls' favourite way of passing an hour or two before work was 'Malling'. They would go to a local mall or, best of all, the huge SM Mall up at Clark, near the airport. This transported them into a completely different world of affluence, comfort, and conspicuous consumption. Their barangay had mud roads and rickety, wooden buildings lit by oil lamps at night. Such simple appliances as they possessed were either ancient or broken. The Mall contained the promise of their new world. It was air-conditioned, neither too hot nor too cold. The humidity was low, so clothes regained their comfort within minutes of entering. Then there were the awesome arrays of consumables. Every conceivable household appliance, brand spanking new, and energy efficient was available, 40-inch flat screen televisions, designer clothes and shoes, and the most immediately desirable item of all, the prolific displays of cell phones. 

Blen and Amor would pour over these displays, choosing their preferred purchase for when their fortunes turned. They dreamed of the exciting calls and texts from foreign lands, bringing news that a customer was returning, or betters still, that their boyfriend was on his way. Precious had been the first to return with a cell phone, courtesy of Klaus. He wanted to be able to call her when he returned home. It could even take photos, which she could send to him.

The Mall also contained fast food outlets. As a treat, Blen would buy a meal of chicken and rice with a cola drink for herself and Amor at Jollibees, then they would wander back to Talent Spot, taking in the street life, spotting which girls were with which guys, and looking out to see if Mr Right was bar-hopping.

Their new, protein rich diet, began to alter their appearance. The slender, stick-straight bodies, typical of provincial farm girls living on rice and a little vegetable, gave way to more rounded shapes, with slightly heavier breast, more rounded bellies and slightly padded thighs. The careful observer could see that Amor might yet find her unique selling point but, for now, that required a little imagination.

The short trip to Talent Spot became routine, and Blen and her friends had taken an interest in the competing bars ranged up Fields Avenue. Big, brash, new clubs particularly interested them, and the door girls had let them peek inside. Blen was amazed at the interior size, the multi-levelled dance floors and sheer quantity of dancers. Once, the girls had been approached by a Mama-san as they stood looking at an impressive outside edifice.

"I haven't seen you girls before, where do you work?" she had asked. 

When told that they worked in Talent Spot, and were new arrivals, she asked if they would like to work in a major club. They hummed and hawed, and she had asked how much they bar-fined for. When told 1200 pesos, the Mamma-san said she believed she could bar-fine them out at 3000 pesos, and they should consider working with her. 

"You are very pretty girls, and we will present you nicely so you can command a premium," she told them.

"You can ask our Mama, if you like to buy our licence," Amor had replied.

On their second Thursday, the journey from home up as far as MacArthur Highway was uneventful. The traffic on the highway was congested, as ever at this time of day, and the vehicles snatched forward as space appeared in front of them. Horns blared and traffic enforcers, with handkerchiefs tied over their mouth and nose against the haze of exhaust fumes, waved at the traffic ineffectively. 

As they stood at the roadside, waiting for an opportunity to break into the traffic flow and claim right of way with a wave of the hand, off to their left they heard an engine racing. Turning, they saw an SUV stealing part of the sidewalk for its own use and accelerating up the inside of the traffic column towards them. The girls hastily moved backwards out of its path. The SUV was rapidly gathering speed as it advanced, and appeared to be racing to fill a gap in the traffic that had temporarily appeared a little further up the road. At this point, a tragedy unfolded immediately in front of the girls.

By bad luck, two women were negotiating the highway in the opposite direction. Having looked right and left, they moved cautiously forward, waving at the drivers to claim the right to pass. The vehicle to the girls' left pulled forward. The women flagged to the driver of the vehicle to their right, who remained stationary allowing a space to open up into which they hastened at a trot. To the left the girls could see the SUV, which was blocked from the view of the women by the traffic, they could hear its engine torquing violently, a sound lost to the two women in the rumble of the engines around them. The SUV and women closed on a collision course. 

The girls reacted at lightning speed, though to them, as the car sped forward, it seemed they moved in slow motion, their bodies heavy, unresponsive and tardy in the time frame of milliseconds allowed to them. Some, faces expressing alarm, eyes and jaws opening wide, sought the eyes of the SUV driver, as their arms moved slowly up, palm faced out and words of warning forming in their throat. Others, contorted, leaned forward as they attempted to blast a warning through the din that filled the air between them and the women. 

A blur appeared on their right and powered towards the women on the right. As the woman on the left began to turn in the direction of her friend, who had been stopped in her tracks by a body-check and was starting her fall backwards, she stepped past the vehicle to her right. The SUV driver never saw her. He did not even have time to react to the brief appearance in his path of the charging man. There was a very loud and sharp, but hollow, crash, as the blunt left wing of the SUV, made contact, square on, with the woman who was half turned away from it. The SUV careered on its way unslowed, the driver struggling still to comprehend these fast moving events. The body of the woman was cannoned into the air, and appeared to fly, rotating slowly backwards about its long axis, legs and arms disposed in unnatural directions. 

For Blen, time stretched and sound ceased. She froze as she stood watching the spiralling body descend into the traffic ten vehicles further along the road. The SUV had weaved and wobbled momentarily, and as the body descended out of view it had veered towards the gap it sought. As it disappeared, there was a second, louder impact, followed by the secondary spatter of debris. Suddenly, her normal senses resumed, the noise of traffic and sounds of alarm broke back into her consciousness, her head and arms responded to her bidding. She looked ahead to see a man climb from on top of a prostrate woman, and to the right to see car drivers and jeepney passengers dismounting, and streaming into the traffic towards the casualties. Her stomach somersaulted, and she felt she would vomit.

The girls turned towards one another in distress, and clustered together to give each other comfort. They inveighed against the SUV driver. The woman, who had been spared was now on her feet and came seeking her friend. The girls could only point towards the commotion, and she hurried off, distraught, in that direction. Deciding they must bear witness to what they had seen, they followed behind. The gaps between the now stationary vehicles were filled with rubber-neckers, and the girls were compelled to stay on the sidewalk, so they walked towards the gap until they could see what had become of the SUV. It had collided with a road barrier at high speed, completely wrecking its front, and dislodging the concrete barrier. 

The driver, who had climbed clear, appeared almost unharmed, but was bent over and obviously winded. He was supported by a couple of traffic enforcers. The girls approached to scream at him. As he looked up, they were enveloped by the warm, sickly smell of extreme intoxication. The man slurred incomprehensibly at them. The traffic enforcers, alerted by the girls' abuse, understood that there had been another accident. The girls pointed in the direction where the body had landed and explained what had happened; the traffic enforcers gripped the drunk more firmly. 

Some witnesses, who had seen the bloody, broken body of the woman, were now arriving, and the traffic enforcers were forced to interpose themselves between an assembling mob and the drunk. When the scene looked as though it might result in the summary street justice, customarily administered in the Philippines, with the malefactor being beaten to death by the crowd, the police arrived. A shot in the air caused the crowd to draw back and calm down a little. The police and traffic enforcers seized the opportunity to bundle the drunk across the highway, into a trike, and he was driven away in the custody of a policemen. The others returned, and the girls patiently waited and gave their names and addresses and brief accounts as witnesses. As they crossed the highway to resume their way to work, a body was being loaded into an ambulance. 




Bar Girl Ch. 06



They arrived forty minutes late. Mama was quickly mollified when she heard the explanation, stern, but at least silent. Daddy was professionally grumpy. It was the depth of the low season, when costs exceed revenue, and the bar manager tried to minimise the attrition of his reserves.

"You come in when you like, and still expect to be paid for a full shift. We have to pay for fifty girls' salaries and hygiene checks, and most of you don't even earn your cost in bar shares on your sales. You make commission every time you make a sale, we don't make anything until your salary and hygiene fees and the drinks are covered by the bar share. You need to buck your ideas up or we'll be laying the lazy girls off. We don't need fifty girls at this time of year, we can get by with twenty. At the moment we're running at a big loss, so be warned. No customers, no jobs."

"But, Daddy, they have two hundred and fifty girls at Girls'R Us," said Amor, "and they have a nice new building with many stages inside, how can that be. Even with a 3000 peso bar-fine, if there is no customer, how can they pay the salaries?"

"Ha!" said Daddy, "We're an honest bar. These big new fuckers are just money laundering operations. They don't need to make money. If nothing's done about it they'll drive all the honest bars out of business. Those tossers who take a lease on a bar up Perimeter Road, and go bust, are under-capitalised. But they compete fair and square."

"Money laundering, what is that?" asked Blen. 

"It's the way criminals come by money they can use for legitimate investment," Daddy explained. "If you spend money that you can't account for, and hasn't been taxed, the authorities will catch you for tax evasion, if nothing else. That's how they did Al Capone."

"Who?" 

"Just one of our criminals. He ran illegal drinking joints. He made a bundle of illegal money and then spent it freely. When the taxman totalled up his expenditure and compared it to his tax return they were different, he'd spent hell of a lot more money that he'd paid tax on. They sent him down for non-payment of tax. Today the big money is in drugs, but also illegal gambling and half the world's politicians are taking bribes. If they want to enjoy the money, they must be able to show it comes from a legal source and has been taxed. Small amounts of money can be laundered by a bookmaker. If you place $100,000 in bets and win $50,000, the bookmaker gets $50,000 and you get $50,000 and you only have to account for your stake, say $2000. Your winnings are clean money, tax paid by the bookie, and you can show you won it. We would give the bookie $100,000 and he would give us $50,000. Instead of $100,000 we couldn't spend, we had £50,000 we could spend. That's laundering, clean money from dirty. You need a business which provides a strong flow of cash from small receipts, from untraceable customers. These bars are ideal."

"But if there is no customers there is no money, so they will go bust," said Blen.

"Blen, these bars aren't there to attract customers. They don't care if they have no customers. Criminal syndicates put up a small amount of legal money, small to them, a couple of hundred thousand dollars, to build and finance these clubs. If they launder money for other syndicates, for every $1,000,000 they launder, they get to keep $500,000. They easily recover their investment and they keep 100% of their own money that they launder."

"But how does that work, I do not understand?" said Blen.

"There are no customers in town. How many of their two hundred and fifty girls do you think they have out on bar-fine?" Daddy asked her.

"Maybe twenty," Blen guessed.

"Well, they keep two sets of books. One set, the real ones, shows twenty girls out on bar-fine, the other set, a made up set, shows one hundred and twenty out on bar-fine. They design the paperwork to be anonymous, just a record of a receipt of a certain amount on a certain date, so they can generate vouchers by computer, then just tick the right boxes. That way they can create a complete set of vouchers to match any sum of money they require, which is shown as profits in the false books. The difference between twenty girls on bar-fine at 600p bar share, and one hundred and twenty fictitious girls at 1500 bar share ... because they advertise a 3000 peso bar-fine ... is what?" 

"I do not know Daddy," answered Blen.

"Well, it's one hundred and seventy thousand peso a day, or sixty million pesos a year."

The girls covered their mouths with their hands in amazement.

"Clubs like that will be cleaning one or two million dollars a year," he continued," that's why they keep increasing in number. There are no new customers, but there's a new big glitzy club with two hundred plus girls opening every year. That's what we are contending with. The NBI have cottoned on to that so, thankfully, most of their action is against the new money, that's where the big bribes are to be found. Girls'R Us is careful to be as clean as a whistle, all the girls are of full age, there is no nudity, everything is tasteful, but they get more raids and are given a harder time than the small Perimeter Road bars that put on a bold show." 

Daddy concluded his rant with, "Now, get your skinny asses out in the bar, earn your salary, and earn me some honest money."

Though very eager to boost their salaries, without footfall the girls were powerless. No matter how enthusiastically they danced to an empty bar they would earn no commission. Even a single customer worked a dramatic change in the atmosphere. He would give meaning to their motions and the girls would move with purpose, heads up, bodies erect, available to provide companionship.

A tubby man with cropped blonde hair, in T-shirt and shorts, wobbled in. As the line drew themselves up, Blen advanced to the front of the stage, waved, and made the blow-job sign. He smiled broadly, raised his eyebrows, and continued unsteadily towards the bar, where he eased himself onto a stool in front of Blen. He looked up at her, and she beamed back down at him. He looked slowly to left and right, raised his arms as if in a wide embrace.

"Hello lovely ladies," he announced, in strongly accented English.

The girls, anxious for interaction after a long period of customer starvation, returned his greeting and gathered closer, anticipating some amusement.

"My name is Olav," he declaimed. "What are your names? ... You?" He pointed at Blen.

"I am Blen, Siir."

He then proceeded to point to each girl in turn, saying a personal hello to each, when she responded.

The waitress managed to interrupt his progress to take his order. "Would you like to buy drinks for the ladies also?" she asked.

He paused and tapped his nose, then handed a 1000p note to the waitress. Turning to the girls he asked, "Would you like pizza?"

The girls squealed their delight at the suggestion, and he asked the waitress to convert the 1000p into pizza for the bar. "And ..." He paused for thought. "... three ladies drinks."

"For which ladies?" asked the waitress.

"Ahhh, I don't know yet. Just put them on the bar," he told her, then pulled a bag of boiled sweets out of his pocket, tore it open, and strewed the contents across the stage. "There's something to give you energy till the pizzas arrive."

The girls dived noisily to grab as many as they could, only to then divide the sweets equally amongst themselves.

"Where are you from, Sir?" asked Girlie.

He tapped his nose. "Ahhh."

"Where do you stay, Sir?" tried Precious. 

Again, he tapped his nose, and repeated, "Ahhh."

Puzzled, the girls fell silent, but continued to jiggle in front of him, looking expectantly in his direction. He looked around admiringly, with a stupid grin on his face. Then he announced, "There will be a competition, " - he was tripping slightly on his words - "I will ask questions. You will give answers. The girl who gives the correct answer will win a ladies drink."

The girls drew in closer. The waitress arrived, and placed the three ladies drinks on the bar in front of him.

"OK, ladies. Question one. Where do I come from?" asked Olav.

There was a burst of rapid guesses – America – Australia - Germany.

The guesses slowed.

"Go to the north," he urged.

"Canada," suggested one girl.

"No, no, no," he said, "the north of Europe, not the north of America."

Holland, Russia and Sweden were various suggestions.

"Very close to Sweden," he prompted.

The girls muttered between themselves, the geography of Europe did not feature in the little education they had received.

Finally, "Norway?" suggested a girl, who resided in the front bedroom at the lady-house.

Olav jumped in his seat, and slapped the bar with delight. "Yes, I am Norwegian, come and get your drink," he shouted.

The waitress issued the girl with a chit, and she took her drink. Olav raised his bottle, chinked her glass, and shot-gunned his beer while the girl sipped her glass. He glanced at the waitress, and held up a finger. She hurried off to get another beer.

"Question two. Where am I staying? Which hotel?" 

This produced a rapid-fire barrage of guesses, each girl working their way through the hotels in order of their preference. Early guesses centred around Balibago, then worked up Perimeter Road. As they hit Petron someone called out, "Sundown."

Again, Olav leapt in his seat, and slapped the bar, "Correct, correct, collect your drink." He was very noisy.

Again, he chinked his beer bottle against the ladies drink, shot-gunned it, and ordered another. "Final question. How old am I, to the nearest month?"

Some of the answers were flattering, some unflattering.

"42 yrs 7 months," guessed one girl.

He pointed at her. "Warm."

The girls focused in. "44 yrs 2 months," guessed another.

"Very warm," he indicated, and after a short flurry of guesses, one girl called out, "44 yrs 7mths."

He leaped, and clapped, and sank his beer, and ordered another. As he subsided, the waitress who had gone for the pizza arrived back, carrying seven boxes. 

"Put four on the bar. Give those girls a couple..." He indicated the girls sitting in the bar watching the action, "... and take one out back."

As the pizza boxes were opened, another customer entered. He also appeared a little unsteady. Returning Blen's greeting with a blank face, he made his way to the bar and climbed onto a stool one or two seats from Olav. Seeing the open boxes of pizza, he picked a slice, and turned to Olav. "All freebies accepted gratefully." He bit into it.

The girls recognised an American accent. He was of a similar age to Olav, with medium length, dark hair, and a couple of day's growth of stubble. His shirt was colourful and loud, and his shorts long and baggy. Olav raised his beer, and nodded in a good-natured way, and he and the American fell into conversation. 

Seeing them both lifting their beer bottles high to drain them, Mama signalled to Blen, who took station between the customers, removed her camisole and began to adjust her thong provocatively. She rolled it down to the tops of her thighs, shimmied her hips a foot in front of Olav, and then the American. She then turned her back to them and spreading her booted legs, bent forward stiff backed, to take the weight of her body onto her hands. Bending completely forward with her torso hanging between her splayed legs she looked back between her boots, first at Olav, then at the American, making the blow-job sign and nodding invitingly. She then rose, hitched her rolled up thong over each shoulder, then snapped back towards them, revealing her breasts, squeezed provocatively between the two stretched skeins of her thong. Taking hold of the skeins at her waist she pulled them together and jerked upwards. At her crotch, the taut, string thin thong, disappeared into the fold of her outer labia. She pulled it back and forth, and her inner labia peeped down on either side of the gusset. 

By the end of the number, to Mama's relief, the customers had ordered another beer.

Olav expressed his delight at Blen's dance by clapping his hands, then pulling out a 100 peso note and, leaning forward, tucking it into Blen's thong.

"Thank you Siir," she lilted in appreciation.

Olav turned to the American and commented, "That was worth 100 pesos. Where else in the world can you get a show like that for 100 pesos?"

In a drunken, slightly surly tone, the American responded, "I don't give them tips for doing what they're paid to do; they're paid to dance and we pay for the beer; the dancing's included with the price of the beer."

"Oh, it's just a little extra for performance above and beyond the call of duty," said Olav.

"They should be doing a dance worth watching all the time," slurred the American, "look at the others. You couldn't call that dancing. They're not worth the price of the beer. Just because one girl does her job properly isn't a reason to give a tip. If they all danced decently, the bar wouldn't be empty, they'd be selling beer, that's their job, not hitting customers up for tips."

"I just like to share my good fortune with the girls," said Olav, "... to give them a little treat to show my appreciation ... like with the pizza."

"That was your pizza?" queried the American.

"Yes."

"All four? I thought it was supplied by the bar."

"All seven," corrected Olav.

"Shit. How much have you spent on these girls?" The American was astounded.

Olav picked up his tabs and riffled through them. "That's one thousand four hundred and sixty pesos," he confirmed.

"Jesus!" exclaimed the American. He turned to Blen. "Excuse me Miss, how much do you charge for ..." he made the blow-job sign.

"600 pesos ONLY, Siir."

He looked back at Olav. "So, you could have had two treatments from this eager young fellatrice; she's been touting for work all evening, and still have enough left over for a good dinner or a beer or three in another bar."

"I like to make the girls happy ... it makes me happy ... and I can afford it. I shall have my girl tonight, believe me I won' miss out on anything," said Olav with amiable equanimity.

"I don't mean to be offensive," continued the American, "but spending like that spoils it for other people. The girls get used to easy money. They feel they don't need to make an effort. Some of them seem to expect a tip on top of their bar-fine. I don't give tips, I've paid to fuck and I don't pay twice."

"Well, at least you give them their trike fare, I hope? You don't make them walk home do you?" countered Olav.

"No way. That's their employment. I'm expected to pay my travel to and from work out of my salary, and they should pay their trike fares out of their bar-fine. By over-tipping, you just raise the expectations of the girls, and bid up the costs for everyone else. Too much money corrupts them. They used to be very happy with 600 pesos for a fuck, and they had plenty of customers. They could earn 4000 pesos a week. Now their customers are afraid to bar-fine them because they'll be hit for a tip, so they've killed the golden goose. Tipping is a disaster for them, and a disaster for us."

An uneasy silence descended between them. The American handed his tab to the waitress together with a few notes. She returned with his change, about thirty pesos, on a saucer. He drained his beer, scooped the change from the saucer, nodded to Olav and said, "See'Ya," then wobbled from his stool and out of the bar.

The waitress looked into the empty saucer, shook her open hand upright in the air, and loudly called out, "Wala." 

The girls laughed.

While the customers had chatted, the sets had changed a couple of times. Set A was again replaced by Set B, and, for some reason, Olav's humour now began to return. "I have a problem," he announced.

"What's your problem, Sir?" called the girls.

"I took a girl to my hotel last night ... I was very drunk ... but I remember she gave me very good boom-boom..." He paused. "... but, when I woke up this morning ... she was gone ... and I can't remember where I met her."

Some of the girls sympathised. Several claimed it had been them.

"The only way I can trace her is with this," he reached into his pocket, "... she must have dropped it as she was leaving."

He held up a bundled garment and let it drop. It was a lacy, rather deep, quarter cup bra.

"I'll know I've found my girl if this fits her, and I will bar-fine her for more boom-boom tonight."

The girls cheered. They took the bra and examined it. Clearly, to fill it becomingly, a rather full bust would be required. As fate would have it, there were two full-figured ladies in Set B. The other girls pushed them forward.

Olav pointed at one. "She looked a little like you ... could I see how it fits?"

The girl quickly removed her top and slipped on and adjusted the bra. Her breasts were squeezed in and thrust forward in a most appealing display. 

"Let me check the fit," said Olav.

She bent forward, and Olav cupped her breasts, inserted his fingers into the cups and ran them around. "Well, it's a very good fit," he teased, "... but maybe it will fit your friend better." He nodded at the other full-figured girl. "Could you try it?" 

In a trice, the girl's tits were out of her top, and into the bra. Again, Olav closely inspected the fit. He then sat back. "Thank you ladies for your co-operation, but I cannot say for sure that it's either of you girls."

The stage resounded with groans bordering on boos.

"So ... I'll have to bar-fine you both," he blurted out dramatically. "Come and get your ladies drinks."

The groans morphed into celebratory cheers, and four happy bosoms bounced down the steps of the stage, and up onto the stools either side of Olav, to compress him in a fleshy embrace.

When Olav left an hour later, a girl on either arm, the few customers who now populated the bar failed to maintain the bonhomie. Girls were bought drinks, and bounced on knees, but the fun was private and not shared as Olav had shared, with the entire bar.

On the fifteenth and final day of the rotation, a Friday, their salary and commission were totalled up and paid in cash. Blen received 19,050p, Precious 9,060p, Girlie 5,850p and Amor 2,550p. 

Amor had not met any of her targets, so her salary and commission were all paid at the lowest rate. Although she could expect 5,100p for the month, which would have been a satisfactory income under other circumstances, she would have interest and rent of 4,800p to pay, and even if she used the remaining 300p to reducing the principal debt, she would still owe well over 18,000p, and still have no money for food, certainly none to remit home. 

Before they left for the lady-house, Mama told them she would call to see them at about midday.

This would be their first day-off since arriving in Angeles, and the girls excitedly planned what they would do - Go to the cinema! - Go shopping! - Go swimming! - Go to the disco! - Buy cell phones! - all, except Amor, who was very quiet. 

Precious had now moved into the lady-house, since Klaus had returned home having given her four 100 Euro notes as a parting gift. Her plan was to go to Norma's Money Changer in St Maria, first thing, and change them. She did not know how many pesos it would be, but she was sure it would be a great many.

There were five curled up on the bed that night, and as they settled to sleep Blen put a comforting arm around Amor and whispered, "We have more than enough, do not worry."

In a wakeful interlude at dawn, as she lay between Girlie and Amor, listening to their gentle breathing over the fighting cocks responding noisily to first light, she devised her plan. She was excited most by the prospect of remitting money to her sister and foster parents. That would vindicate her decision to go to Angeles, and relieve the tense expectation that settled on the families at home when girls went to seek their fortune. She felt for Amor and her terrible situation. She, Girlie and Precious could send money home; Amor could not. As soon as the remittances arrived, word would ripple through the barangay. The remitters would be the subject of family boasts and neighbourly praise. Blen's sister, Jesusa, would go to school. Amor's little sisters and brothers would not. There would be fish and pork on the table of Blen's family, Amor's would subsist on rice and vegetable. Amor's family would be bitterly disappointed, and think she had forgotten them. She would be dubbed the feckless daughter who abandoned her familial obligations. Blen decided she would share with Amor. Fate had been unfair. But for the fact that Blen remained a cherry, she could have shared the same shame. 




Bar Girl Ch. 06



First, her credit, now 5000p, would be paid. Blen had been horrified by the burden thoughtlessly incurred, and was determined never to fall into debt again. She would pay her way in future, no matter how frugally she might have to live. 4000 pesos, supplemented by her miscellaneous tips, would enable her and Amor to live well, better than they had ever lived before, for the next sixteen days. Of course, she would have to postpone the delight of buying her own cell phone and waiting for those exciting calls and texts, but she was confident that day would soon come. That left 10,000p. 6,000p would be sent to her family, which would impress them without creating undue expectation for the future, and 4000p given to Amor to send to her family. Having settled these things in her mind, she threw an arm back over Amor, and returned to sleep.

When Blen and Amor woke at eleven-am, Precious and Girlie had already left. After they had showered and while they were eating breakfast, Mama Mutia arrived. She greeted everyone and exchanged housekeeping messages with several of the girls, then sat down with Blen and Amor. 

"Are Precious and Girlie here?" 

"They have gone out already," said Blen. "Maybe Precious has gone to change her gift."

"Well, I want to speak to you all about your credit, but specially Amor." 

Amor looked as though she had been pole-axed. 

Mama placed her hand over Amor's hand. "Do not be worried, there will not be a problem, but first I want to ask Blen if she would like to clear her credit now. It is not due until your next payday Blen, but this has been a very good rotation for you. I need to give out the blow-jobs fairly and it will help Amor if she is my blow-job girl for the next rotation, so you will earn less but she will earn more. It may be best to clear your small credit now." 

"Of course," said Blen, anxious to help her friend, "I will pay you now, and Amor will do the blow-jobs." She hugged Amor, saying, "I told you it would work out fine." 

Nonetheless, Amor looked miserable. "I cannot do blow-jobs Mama," she half cried.

"I will teach you. It is not a problem," enthused Blen.

"No. I mean I do not like it. I feel sick," insisted Amor. 

This surprised Blen, who liked it very much. She enjoyed the feel of the penises, and of being in the driving seat when her customer's cock was in her mouth and she was hypnotising him with her eyes. 

"It is a good opportunity," said Blen, rather lamely. 

"I cannot do it, I have tried," emphasised Amor, beginning to sob. 

"There is no need to be upset," said Mama, "I told you I would look after you. Dry your tears. I will just have to think of something else."

At this point, a trike pulled up outside and, as it pulled away again, Girlie and Precious came in.

"27,000 pesos!" announced Precious, jubilantly, "... that was Klaus's gift." 

Mama got up and hugged her. 

"You lucky, lucky girl ... and he's so cute." 

"He will come back in December," added Precious. 

"Well, he had better claim you quickly. There will be many other guys interest in you," Mama warned.

"But, I want only Klaus." 

"I know darling. I hope it will work out, but Klaus has not close his options, so you must remain open to offers. It is first come first served here. Do not let a good guy escape while you wait for someone who will turn out not to be serious. Keep him hooked, but spread your bait for other fish also."

Anabel, who had now come down, chimed in, "This is the city of broken promises and broken hearts. Next time he will go bar hop and see another girl, then you are history. He is a customer or he is your husband. Now he is just a customer," she said venomously. 

Other girls contributed stories of bruised hearts and betrayed promises. 

"Their love lasts only as long as their hard-on," asserted one, ruefully. 

Precious felt deflated. She was a new girl bumping up against the bitter lessons of others' experiences.

As they dressed for their outing, Mama collected monies from the girls, and marked up their accounts accordingly. Precious and Blen were free of debt. Precious was now free of all obligations, and with a cell phone and boyfriend overseas. Her dreams had been realised so quickly. Blen still owed her cherry to Mama, but she was able to help her family and help her friend, which filled her with pride. From dependant drab to glamorous benefactor, in just two weeks, seemed to her a great achievement. Girlie worked out that if she paid 2500 of her credit, remitted 2000 home, and lived frugally, she would pay off her credit in the three months before high season, when the big earning opportunities would arrive. Only Amor found the future difficult to contemplate.

Before they left, Blen led Amor upstairs, and sat with her on the bed. She opened Amor's hand, and placed four 1000p notes in it. "I want you to send this to your family." 

Amor objected, and looked distressed. 

"I have too much," added Blen. 

"But I cannot repay you, my credit is too much." Amor began to sob. 

"It is a gift. You will help me when I am unlucky, that is all. Soon things will change. Mama has said that she will help you. She helped me. She want you to repay her credit ... no? Things will be better in high season, I just know it."

"Thank you so much." Amor yielded, and hugged Blen.

Shortly after, they sat in their sala, one eye on the TV as they waited for the other two to finish their preparations. The newscast began with a dramatic fanfare. The anchor read the lead story; this morning, another journalist had been murdered, the ninth this year in just nine months, as against ten in the previous year.

"What happened with the President's promise?" asked Blen in exasperation, "We all watch her on TV, she tell us that there is money to stamp out this crime, but now it is a record again."

"Who did she give the money?" asked Amor, rhetorically, "It will be in America, Now, it will be somebody's house."

"Why cannot the government do anything, with all the police, with all the military? Why is no murderer ever caught?" lamented Blen. "There is sixteen thousand to guard the President when she make the promise, but where do they go when it is time to protect the people."

"They guard her because she will pay their salary," said Amor, and cynically added, "If we will pay them, they will guard us also."

Precious and Girlie presented themselves, ready to leave, and the four walked out into the ash roadway. Precious clapped her hands and called out, "Trike". A man darted out from the corner at the end of the road, and darted back again. A motorcycle engine sputtered into life, and a trike pulled round the corner and drew up to them. They piled in.

"To Internal Remittance," requested Precious, and off they set.

For thirty minutes, the disorder of the remittance office was increased, as the four semi-literate teenagers struggled to master the forms and protocols necessary to transfer money home. The Postal ID's, one of the documents arranged by Mama, on credit, proved their worth, enabling the transactions eventually to proceed. This would become a feature of their lives from now on, and they contemplated with delirious satisfaction the celebrations back home that would greet these first remittances. 

High on the adrenaline buzz, they piled back into the trike. So sure of her future, and so brimming with wealth, Precious had asked the trike to wait for them and assumed responsibility for the fare. "To SM Mall," she instructed.

The next festivity would be a saunter through the mall, with money in their pockets. Actual purchases still lay in the future, but the thrill of discussing their fantasy purchases was almost as good. Riding up on the escalators, and down in the lift was an entertainment in itself. These novelties were unknown in their province. Blen entertained her companions at Amor's expense, by recalling how, on her first time on the escalator, Amor panicked as she approached the top, unsure how to dismount, and had turned and tried to run back down. They had all felt that apprehension when moving, for the first time, from a stationary surface to a moving one, and then from a moving one to a stationary one. Even such commonplace experiences were a challenge and entertainment to these provincial girls. 

"Let us see a movie," suggested Girlie, and all agreed. 

None had been in a cinema before, and here there was a multiplex featuring films in English and Tagalog. They opted for a sentimental Tagalog comedy. Precious bought a tub of popcorn and they sat down for their first experience of cinema. They were awestruck. The bright screen, with its vivid colours, filled their visual field, and they started and looked round as a vehicle approached on the screen, and their senses were submerged in the 3D sound. No one ever enjoyed cinema more. They sat and stared, completely absorbed in the plot, for an hour and a half escaping into a delightful fantasy.

When the movie ended, and the lights came up, the girls were too full of things to say to actually speak, and in more or less silence, they gravitated to the food hall where they sat to eat a snack. Then the words came, and they relived the movie again. 

It was now after three-pm, and Girlie reminded them that they were to meet Anabel in the swimming pool at the Pampanga Hotel on Perimeter Road. She had told them that entry was free to girls, and it was a fun way to pass the afternoon.

Blen and Amor had never been in a hotel swimming pool, but they imagined it would be like Poco Jo's. They swiftly bought costumes from a swimwear stall and, again, Precious hailed a trike and assumed responsibility for payment. On arrival, they were intimidated by the smart building. Entering the foyer, they hesitated. 

The uniformed receptionist called to them, "Can I help you ladies?"

"We are looking for the swimming pool," said Girlie, and they were invited to walk right through the foyer, and out the other side.

There, a path through a small garden led to the pool. At the end of the path they stood and self-consciously looked round at the clear blue pool, the people cavorting in it, the bodies laid on sun loungers, the costume clad bodies sitting round tables, the busy pool tables and the bar beyond, with dining tables set out under a palm fringe. Then Anabel caught their eyes, and waved them over.

She and Marivic were sat at a low table littered with bottles and plates, where two large men, with beer-bellies that sagged over the swimming briefs clinging tightly to their bulging groins, held court. 

"Hey girls, pull up a seat and chill," one drawled. 

He waived to the waitress. "What are you girls drinking?" he asked, pointing to each girl, then, repeating the order back to the waitress. 

Precious ordered first. She had acquired a taste for vodka and tonic with Klaus, so that was what she ordered. The other girls, unsure of themselves, all ordered the same.

"So, do you girls work at Talent Spot?" he asked. 

Anabel then related that they all worked at Talent Spot, and all lived in the lady-house. She introduced Jim and his companion, John, to the girls.

John, in a similar accent to his friend, called, "Who's going to rub on my lotion?" and held up a tube of suntan lotion.

Anabel took it. "Honeyko, I'll give you a good rub while my girls get changed."

"I'll show you where," said Marivic, and led them to the well-appointed ladies' washroom. 

They changed into swimsuits for the first time. Marivic told them to shower, and step into the footbath. A few minutes later, the four dripping girls, figures hugged by their new swimsuits, arrived back at the table. 

"OK, it's pool time," said Jim, and they all got up and entered the pool. 

The guys, flamboyantly bombed in. The girls, who could not swim, climbed down the steps at the shallow end. The guys powered up and down the pool a couple of times, then returned to play with the girls. They chased them, and ducked them, and threw them in the air, and the girls squealed with delight, until the guys climbed out of the pool and went back to the table, the girls trailing behind them. They enjoyed a pizza and another round of drinks. 

Then John, the quieter guy, tapped Girlie on the shoulder and said, "After that I need a massage. Let's go upstairs," and rose. 

Girlie looked uncertain, but Anabel jerked her head to indicate she should follow him. "Enjoy your massage," she called. 

Girlie walked after John. He turned, put his arm around her, though she reached no higher than the middle of his chest, and led her into the hotel.

As dusk approached, people drifted away from the pool and reappeared dressed, at the bar, or in the restaurant. Jim bought one more round then said to Anabel, "Let's go bar-hop ... see you girls ...thanks for your company." 

Anabel said her goodbyes, and went into the hotel with Jim. Precious, Blen, Amor and Marivic went to the washroom to change, and wondered what had become of Girlie. But, she reappeared smiling and held up three 100p notes. 

"For a massage?" asked Amor, surprised.

"Yes," said Girlie, "I massage his cock with my pussy."

They laughed. The opportunities to earn were indeed endless.

By now, it was dark, and with no direct heat from the sun, the girls decided to walk back down Perimeter Road to Fields Avenue and have a good look at the nightclubs and bars. The smell of barbecue smoke drifted up the road carrying the erratic tunefulness emanating from the small karaoke bars. The pop rhythms to which the go-go girls danced, leaked from every night club door, and horns blared, as the early evening congestion in St Maria slowly cleared itself, punctuated frequently by the putter of a labouring motorbike engine, which rose to a crescendo then abated each time a trike passed by. The girls threaded their way along the uneven and ill-constructed sidewalk, through the crowds, down to Checkpoint, past Tallypopa Market, and beyond, turning left into Raymond Street. They walked down into Real Street, past Linda's, and around to A. Santos Street, inspecting the frontages of the establishments, noting their names, some of which were familiar from lady-house chatter. 

Precious, who had spent several evenings bar-hopping with Klaus, gave descriptions of the interiors of several of the bars. At A. Santos, known colloquially as 'Blow Row' because it was where the traditional, small, blow-job bars concentrated, they turned right. They continued down to the Wild Orchard Hotel, where Precious had stayed with Klaus. Blen and Amor were impressed. Turning, they walked back up towards Fields Avenue, looking into the small blow-job bars, Black Parrot, Blue Pearl and Gosh, etc, where there were no dancers, but girls sat along the frontage waiting for custom, or inside chatting with the customers. Precious teased Blen, saying she should come and work down here, as she would make a fortune. At Poco Jo's they turned right again, and walked down to Talent Spot. They entered, and sat up by the stage, and briefly recounted their adventures to their friends. Girlie pulled out her three 100p notes to show them.

The one entertainment they had occasionally enjoyed at home was the karaoke bar. They decided to visit a small one patronised by locals, often bar girls like themselves, on their night off, while they waited for the disco to get under way. Loud music blasted from the disco as the DJ worked up for Saturday night, but no-one went in until nine-pm, so they sat, drank San Miguel Light, sang a few songs, and waited for nine. The Filipino lads who patronised the disco also used the karaoke bars to load up. They fell into flirtatious conversation. Compared to the village boys at home they were sophisticated, and compared to the customers, were youthful and gallant.

The alcohol relaxed and dis-inhibited the girls, the effect being most noticeable on Amor, who had the least experience of alcoholic drink. She grew voluble and witty, and teased and encouraged the boys, who came over and, uninvited, sat with them. By ten, they were all on first name terms and had cohered into a clique. The boys realised that the girls were unsophisticated newcomers from the province, and adopted an air of worldly sophistication. One of the guys opened a piece of paper on the table, took a lump from it and cutting it into quarters, nodded at the girls. "For you," he indicated. 

"What is that?" said Blen ominously, "Is that shabu?" 

"It is fine," said the guy, "you will need energy to keep going in the disco, it is just a pick-me-up. We all use it." 

Blen and Precious looked at one another doubtfully. 

Girlie said, "Anabel takes it sometimes; she told me." 

Amor simply asked how to take it.

"Just swig it down with a mouthful of beer." 

She did. 

Girlie followed suite, but Blen and Precious declined, saying they would try it another time. 

They went to the disco, where they had a great time dancing to bowel jolting music; none more so than Amor, who danced wildly, and flirted outrageously with the boys. At three-am, they arrived back at the lady-house, utterly exhausted, ecstatically happy, and feeling that the world truly stood at their feet.

Next morning, Blen slipped out of bed at nine-am, careful not to disturb the others. She thought of waking Amor, but Amor had danced to exhaustion the night before, so she walked by herself, down MacArthur Highway to The Church of the Immaculate Conception. There, she bought candles, lit them, and prayed her remittance would bring blessings on her family and friends. During Mass, she put a donation in the collection plate, something she had never been able to do at home, and afterwards, when she pushed a 1000p note into the charity box, she wondered whether that was an insufficient contribution from her good fortune to those that had so little.

Early on Sunday afternoon, the girls squatted around a meal set down on their bed, and reviewed their first day off, loose in town with cash in their pockets - the first such day in their lives. Precious most enjoyed the sentimental movie. Blen basked in the joy of despatching monies home. Girlie talked excitedly about the swimming pool and the happy chance encounter with John. Amor exulted in being the dancing queen of the disco. She was teased by the others about the transformation in her personality. 

Amor was certain of the cause - the little 'pick-me-up' had banished her nerves and inhibitions, and she felt she had been able to express her true-self on an equal footing with everyone else. She had loved being the popular girl, and she saw in the 'pick-me-up' a solution to her financial problems. If she could be her true-self at work, she could rival any of the girls in gaining the attention of the customers. She planned to speak with Anabel.

They returned to work that evening feeling refreshed, rewarded and motivated to work hard.



Bar Girl Ch. 07



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."




Bar Girl Ch. 07



"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."

Amor nodded. 

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. 




Bar Girl Ch. 07



"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?"

Amor nodded.

"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." 

Danny nodded.

"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. 

"30 seconds." 

"15 seconds." 

" 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.



Bar Girl Ch. 08



Chapter 8. 'Meet Miss Ass-fuck.'

The annual cycle. Typhoon Milenyo. Amor meets the Masters of Uranus. Bruno rapes Blen's throat. Blen and Amor's photo-shoot.

In the early days of the following week, a cyclone formed over the Pacific, and moved slowly towards the eastern seaboard of the Philippines. On the rolling news channels the weathermen and girls tracked it, speculating where it would make landfall, and how severe it would be. 

Late on Tuesday afternoon, Amor returned to the lady-house having made her first trip to Manila airport to see off a departing lover. She too came with a plastic bag full of gifts, and a roll of 1000p notes stuffed into her bra. Tipping the taxi driver 100p as instructed by Danny, she hurried into the lady-house, out of the rain. 

Blen hugged her with genuine warmth, delighted to have her friend back once again, and the house mates gathered around to hear her news.

"He will come for me soon, he will come back at Christmas," Amor told them, breathlessly.

Blen felt an involuntary twinge of jealousy. "Will he marry with you?" 

"He does not discuss it yet, but he will talk to me every day." Amor produced from her back pocket a shiny new cell phone. "He have my number, and I have his, and we can call."

To Blen, this sounded familiar. Precious also was a telephone girlfriend to be visited at Christmas, and she wondered whether that might be more convenient for the foreigner than a wife to be welcomed home as an equal and permanent life partner.

The rain continued on Wednesday, and the wind began to gust and drive the rain in under raised umbrellas, making even short journeys outdoors damp and unpleasant.

The Typhoon season profoundly affects the Angeles City hospitality trade. In an annual cycle; beginning in November, when the weather improves and the tourists return, and with the relief of the busy Christmas trade close at hand, understandings are reached between bar managers, from MacArthur Highway all the way up Fields Avenue and Perimeter Road to Friendship Highway, as to the pricing of drinks and bar-fines. New hopefuls enter the bar trade. Closed venues re-open under new names, with new management, the result of a fresh injection of foreign investment, often the retirement savings of the putative Papa-san. There is a flourishing trade in 'Rights', a shell vehicle to operate a bar, sold to naïve Papa-san wannabes, which revert to the shady promoters when business turns down, ready to be marketed again next year. The only 'Right' is the right to underwrite losses, but each year there is a new crop of dupes, hoping to buy the dream. 

The wannabes invest in paint and décor, engage a Mama-san and her girls, then open their doors for the Holiday season. They readily agree to fix prices for ladies drinks and bar-fines, and, for the holidays, everyone stiffs the customer. Demand exceeds supply, the stages are stripped of dancers as customers compete to take out their favourite girl, and ladies drinks flow liberally. Christmas passes and the balmy weather continues to attract tourists for several months. But, June comes, and with it the rainy season. Tourism declines. It continues to decline through July and August, when the rain peaks. But, worse is to come. In September and October the typhoons arrive, bringing with them inundations and brownouts. Now tourists are rare. 

The bars are supported by the expatriate community, those who know the ropes, the pensioners eking out their pension. Room rates are slashed. Price agreements collapse. The Fields Avenue bars attract most custom, so the satellites up Perimeter Road and beyond cut the cost of bar-fines and ladies drinks. To minimise losses, the cuts are made at the expense of the girls. A customer can negotiate a lower price, but the bar keeps its share and the girl takes the reduction. The best girls gravitate to Fields. 

Promotional events are advertised. They compete to be the most raunchy. The more desperate the bar, the raunchier the display. The authorities intervene, some Papa-sans do some jail time while bribes are arranged. Doors close, and are padlocked. Dejected wannabes board flights for home. Rights revert. The promoter looks up the contact details of the new wannabes he cultivated in high season - he gives them a call - he has heard about an opportunity that might interest them. 

Daddy Don had learned his trade as a bar manager in the old days; he knew all the important people, and could pull all necessary strings. Mama Mutia had worked in Balibago for twenty-five years, since she was fifteen, the first ten years as dancer - through the Pinatubo irruption - then five years as a supervisor to a Mama-san, where she learned her present trade and met her husband, who financed her to set up in business on her own. For the last decade, she had been a Mama-san in her own right, recruiting and providing a line-up of girls for bars. Still young and active, since her children were away at school she enjoyed the occasional bar-fine and participated in the speciality events that she facilitated as a lucrative sideline. For six years, she had serviced Talent Spot and worked with Daddy Don. They entered upon the low season campaign as well practised veterans. Dirty dancing contests, participation in B.O.W parties and pool parties provided the opportunity to expose their headline girls to the available customer base. Special events, birthday parties, Halloween, any excuse, would be used as a promotional opportunity. It was vital to maintain a reputation as a fun bar through the rainy season.

On 28th September, the 2006 rainy season reached its nadir. Typhoon Milenyo made landfall on the east coast of Luzon, and by ten-am, it was traversing Manila itself. Angeles, 70 km to the north, was swept all day by gusting winds, and inundated by torrential rains, which drummed loudly on corrugated iron roofs. Gutters overflowed, and water spouted from all four corners of every roof. The unmade roads turned into mud or sludge. On open ground, water grew from puddles, to pools, to ponds, to lakes, and eventually formed a boiling surface which covered all level ground. Fast flowing streams rushed down paved inclines, including Fields Avenue. Roofs lifted and blew away. Signs rocked and swayed crazily until they broke free. Poorly rooted trees were ripped out and dropped on their sides. Advertising hoardings rocked, and were slowly collapsed, flattened by the powerful winds. The flotsam of untethered objects, carried by the wind, was deposited, to be washed away by, or eddy on the vast expanse of water. 

In the lady-house, the girls closed the jalousies and shut and bolted the door. Cloths were stuffed into the gap under the door to prevent water from being blown in, and anything susceptible to water damage was taken off of the floor. A mop and bucket were ready to mop up seepage. As the rain continued to build on the roof, it found ways in, to drip through the bedroom ceilings. Pots and bowls were found to catch the drips and were frequently emptied. The beds were moved, and covered with plastic bags to protect them. Shortly after eleven-am, the lights and TV flicked abruptly off. A battery radio remained the sole entertainment, and by the light of a petrol lamp, over the sound of the powerful winds scouring and buffeting the lady-house, the girls listened to melodic love songs, interspersed with news of the progress of the typhoon.

At first came the news that President Arroyo, who had been on business in the Clark Economic Zone, was returning to Manila to coordinate the response to the emergency. Later, came the news that her convoy had been unable to negotiate the North Luzon Expressway, one of the finest roads in the country, because of wind born debris, and had returned to Clark.

"Will Talent Spot open today?" asked Precious. 

"Talent Spot is open every day," said Anabel, "if you do not go, you do not get pay."

"We will be more comfortable there," suggested Precious.

In mid-afternoon, a group of the girls, covered with plastic bin-bags to protect them from the rain, set off for Talent Spot. With arms linked, and heads bowed, they forced their way forward, the rain stinging their faces when they looked up. Occasionally they would duck in response to a shouted warning, as airborne flotsam flew by. 

MacArthur Highway was free of traffic, and water flowed in the roadside cambers, spilling onto the pavement. At the junction with Fields Avenue, the surface water that ran off had started as a rivulet a mile away, up at Friendship, and gathered volume as it rushed down Perimeter Road into Fields Avenue, finally to gush out over MacArthur Highway like a burst water main. The girls were knee deep at times as they crossed, then splashed up through the puddles on the irregular sidewalk of Fields, as the torrent cascaded by in the roadway. No one was about. Some clubs displayed 'Open' signs, tied firmly in place outside, but the doors were closed, and there was no sign of door girls. All other businesses appeared to be closed. They pushed on the door of Talent Spot and it was pulled open a little from inside by the door girls, who hurried them in, before hastily pushing the door shut behind them.

The atmosphere within was very subdued. The standby generator powered the emergency lighting circuit, sound system and the air conditioning system, which was turned down low, but not quite off. Dancers sat about on the stage, and many girls, in their street clothes, sat about the bar. Precious, Blen and the other girls made their way to the changing area to find towels and dry themselves. A radio was tuned to a news channel. After drying as best they could, the girls squatted down, huddled together for warmth, and listened to the radio. 

The early reports of deaths and damage were coming in. Manila, a city of fifteen million people, containing one in five of the Philippines population, had taken a direct hit. There had been a brief respite of about an hour as the eye of the cyclone passed across the city, then the battering had resumed. The radio reported that the whole of the Island of Luzon was in brownout; the public electricity supply had totally failed. The weather bureau was speculating that this would be one of the most destructive cyclones the Philippines had experienced.

Milenyo passed over Manila, and made its way west towards Zambales. Angeles remained cloaked in the vortex of dense clouds, but late in the evening the winds began to abate. Two customers did come in towards eleven-pm, determined to barhop despite the typhoon, and told how other bars were faring. Up in some of the small bars on Perimeter Road, lit only by dim oil lamps, and free of the threat of police interference, the girls had taken advantage to engage brazenly with the customers, and were openly giving blow-jobs and being fucked over the tables. For the most part, they found the bars much the same as Talent Spot, the girls reluctantly being whipped into action by Mama-san when the customers entered, then dancing without enthusiasm. They were able to take advantage of the unusually dim lighting to have some in-club fun that would not usually be permissible.

When Blen and the others made their way home, the rain still fell, but the wind had dropped, and the rainwater flowed rather than cascaded in the street. During the night, the lights in the house flicked back on and the TV came back to life as the public electricity supply was restored. The lights and appliances were quickly switched off, and the girls returned to sleep. Next morning, the girls followed the news with great interest. Several hundred Filipinos were dead or missing. The economic loss was estimated in billions of pesos, and Milenyo had achieved a top ten ranking for destructiveness.

The following day, Girlie returned in a taxi, at about four-o'clock. She, like Precious and Amor, had now accompanied a lover to the airport. Girlie had ridden out the typhoon with Belle, in her hotel. The previous day, when Manila airport had closed, Belle had become agitated, fearing her flight might be rescheduled. They had been quite comfortable in the hotel, which had a full power generator, so apart from a blip on the changeover from public supply to generator, power had been maintained, and the kitchen provided hot food, and the bar cold beer. After a lazy evening and night spent making love, and monitoring the TV in the interludes, at six in the morning, two hours earlier than originally arranged, the taxi had picked them up for the airport run. The journey south, on the expressway, was slow. Not all the debris had been cleared, and there were bottlenecks to be negotiated. At times, the raised expressway appeared to be the only visible dry land, as water stretched across the Pampangan plain to the horizon, with only the occasional tree protruding. The congestion, once they hit Manila, was greater than usual. Pools of deep water remained in the streets, further delaying traffic. They had reached the airport at ten, and Belle made her flight. 

Girlie then asked the taxi driver to go somewhere to eat, and she had bought him a McDonald's at a mall, then walked around the mall admiring the wares, hoping the street water would meanwhile subside. The return journey was just as slow, as the clear up still continued. It had been a gruelling journey and Girlie was exhausted when she arrived back in the lady-house. Greeting her friends wearily, she immediately excused herself to flop down and get a couple of hours rest before work. Roused at half past six by the others, at seven they were on stage at Talent Spot. 

The sun had not broken through the cloud at all that day, the rain had been continuous and a sense of deflation settled over Fields Avenue. Talent Spot was unusually quiet for a Friday night, even a rainy-season Friday night. This suited Girlie, who found it difficult to maintain her energy through her sets, and settled into a seat, eyes closed, between them. When they arrived home, she was first to hit the bed.

On Saturday morning, the grey cloud turned white and the rain let up. By early afternoon, the sun had broken through, and pooled water ebbed away and evaporated. Normality was returning. 

Girlie was last up. She slept in until two-pm, but when she came down she was refreshed, and in high spirits.

"Now I feel good," she announced, "I need that long sleep."

"What will happen with Belle?" asked Amor.

"She will come back soon. She will rent a house for me," replied Girlie.

"Did she make you a gift?" asked Blen.

"She give me 10,000 pesos, and a toy." 

"What toy is that?"

"It is a vibrator. She take me in Nasty but Nice, and I choose it. When I use it, it is for remembrance of her."

Amor's face brightened with prurient anticipation. "Let us see it." 

The girls went back up to the bedroom. Girlie opened her locker, took out her gift, unpacked it, inserted the batteries, switched it on, and it buzzed into life. For half an hour, they played with it, buzzing it against various parts of their bodies, before pressing it, in pretence, against the gussets of their briefs. Eventually the batteries ran down and the fun ceased.

"I will put it on top of my locker. You must buy your own batteries," said Girlie, "and I will call it Belle."

On Saturday, Amor was listless on stage, apprehensive about tomorrow's engagement with The Masters of Uranus. Before they left for home, Mama reminded Amor that she would collect her at midday, and to make sure she was up. 

On Sunday morning, Blen rose early and went to mass, to return and sit with Amor and her other bedmates as Amor awaited Mama. At midday, a trike drew up outside and sounded its horn. Amor took a glass of water and swallowed a 'pick-me-up.' Her friends then walked her to the trike, wished her good luck, hugged her, and waved her off as the trike turned into the road. They could now only await her return.

About half-past-seven, between sets, while Blen was sitting with Girlie and Anabel, Mama entered Talent Spot followed by a group of customers, Amor, and some girls they did not know. Seeing her friends, Amor rushed over, her face bright, her smile wide.

Stepping forward in greeting, Blen clutched Amor by her shoulders. "Tell me what happen," she demanded. 

"Look," said Amor breathlessly, and turning to the table, she counted out eighteen 1000 peso notes. "That is fourteen guys. It is like a club. And these are some of the guys..." She nodded towards the half dozen guys being shown into seating by Mama. "... and these girls are their regulars..." indicating the girls who accompanied them, "... and, so is ..." she leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, "... Mama!" 

"Mama?" queried Anabel. 

"Mama is one of their regular girls, she does a show."

"What does Mama do?" asked Anabel. 

"First," interrupted Blen, "what did you do for your 13,000 pesos?" 

"Come with me while I change and I will tell," said Amor, and they went to the changing room and huddled in a confidential circle around her while she put on her costume.

"Well," she began, "first is, we go in the CR. Mama squirt water in our butts, and we relieve ourselves. That is to clean our butts. Then we dress in costumes, Mama has a corset, and long boots right up her legs, and a mask. My costume is just straps, lots of straps, and buckles and a collar for a dog. The guys also have their costume.

"Then there is a pussy show, the girls take things out of their pussy and shoot out balloons from their pussy. Mama give a show. She pick up bottles with her pussy and put a coke tin, and things, in her butt. Then I have a gag in my mouth, and Mama put a dog lead on the collar, and I crawl along, and she take me around the room. Then she tie me over on a chair, my ankles to the back legs and my wrists to the front legs. 

"William, the big guy with the long hair and beard - he is really nice - then play with my ass. He slap it and whip it, but it do not hurt. Then he do things to my butt rose to make it open. He rub it, oil it, and lick it, then, he put his finger in. Then, all sorts of things, until I feel it just open. Then he put in a dildo that pump up, and he pump it up until I am stretch wide open. Then he use beads and balls, he push them in and pull them out. 

"Then one of them, I do not know who, take my butt-cherry. I do not know who because I cannot see him. That is the end of the show, and then all the guys butt-fuck all the girls. Mama join in too. It is like a party. After I lose my butt-cherry they leave me on the chair so the other guys can enjoy me, they each leave 1000p!" 

"Do you hurt?" asked Blen. 

"No. William make me relax, then it was easy; but now I am sore, I can feel it is swollen." 

"So, did you like it, I mean, in the ass. What is it like?" 

"It is not the same, but it is nice. For 1000 pesos I like it," said Amor, in a considered tone, and laughed, "Soon I will be able to pay my credit. And I have another service for my customers."

Amor was now in her costume. Blen could see her backside was bright red and striped. 

"And, this is what they give me for my graduation." Amor took a butt plug with a ponytail from her bag. She cocked her hip, turned, slowly pressed the plug into her anus then wagged her tail. 

The girls squealed with delight. 

"Come, I introduce you." 

Amor led her back into the bar. As the two approached the table, side-by-side and holding hands, heads turned towards them. Amor's greeting was a slight variation of their previous routine. "This is Miss Blow-Job; I am Miss Ass-Fuck. Which do you like?" 

William invited them to sit up with the group and ordered ladies drinks. 

Amor grabbed her tail and held it in view. "I'm just standing, Sir." 

William nodded. "I do understand." 

Mama took the opportunity to introduce Blen. "This is Blen; you will see her next month. She will be our next cherry-ass girl," and added, "Her cherry-pussy is also available for offers, it is satisfaction guaranteed. All expression of interest is welcome."




Bar Girl Ch. 08



Sitting stiffly among the group, was a stony-faced man, wearing metal frame spectacles, with short, neatly trimmed grey hair conventionally parted at the side. He was tall and large, dressed in a white shirt and grey slacks, and wearing sandals over stockinged feet. He looked out of place amongst his raffishly dressed companions. 

Lifting his glass of mineral water to his mouth, he took a sip and asked, in an unattractive middle European accent, "How much does the little whore think her cherry is worth?" 

Blen face froze, offended at being referred to as "a little whore," as though she was a puta, a street whore, rather than a licensed entertainer. 

Mama quickly intervened to lighten the awkward atmosphere which had suddenly descended on the group. "Bruno, this is my freshest and most beautiful flower waiting to be plucked. She is a sweet virgin, not a whore."

"Virgins interest me," said Bruno, "but I have not seen a virgin dressed in this way before ... and what is her name? ... did her friend say, Miss Blow-Job?" 

"Blen can dress any way which please you," said Mama, "and her name is just a little joke with her friend. She is cherry-pussy cherry-ass, so, for now, she give only oral service." 

"Well tell her to sit with me," said Bruno. 

Mama looked imperatively at Blen, who walked round and sat in the seat beside Bruno.

"Open your mouth," were his first directed to her. 

He took her chin, tilted her head, peered into her mouth and peeled back her lips.

"You keep your mouth clean?" 

It wasn't clear if this was a statement or question. 

Blen decided it was a question. "I brush my teeth, and I use my mouthwash after every customer." Indignation tinged her voice. 

He reached under her camisole and ran his hand over her small, firm breasts, then addressed Mama, "This girl interests me, but she looks like a slut, I will not pay for a virgin and get a drilled out bar-girl." 

"If I can satisfy you she is a virgin, how much will you offer?" 

"If you can satisfy me, perhaps 20,000, pussy and ass." 

"I already have a good offer for her butt," replied Mama, "you will have to go much higher than that." 

"I will not bid for uncertain goods," muttered Bruno. 

"Wait, I will be back in just a moment." Mama set off for the rear. 

Blen made to dismount from her chair and chase after Mama, but Bruno ordered, "Stay there, I want to inspect you." 

She sat back up on the chair. 

He was thoughtful. "I can see you in a wedding dress, you would look most charming."

"Do you want to marry me?" Blen's voice rose in surprise. 

Bruno laughed harshly. "That would be like marrying a public sewer. No. I mean, when I deflower you, you will bleed until your wedding dress will turn red. You will be a work of art, a ruined whore in a defiled gown. I will enjoy that." His voice was laden with malice.

Blen was confused by Bruno's ambiguous tone. "Do you not like me?"

"You are a slut. I shall enjoy consuming you, like I enjoy consuming my dinner, but my dinner turns into shit, and I will turn you into shit also."

Blen stared at him, tears of rage welling in her eyes, but she dared not speak. This scenario was far from what she had imagined.

At this point, Mama returned with Blen's folder and handed it to Bruno. "Here, these are the witness photos." 

He opened it, and perused the contents carefully for several minutes, then glanced at Mama. "So. You own her virginity?" 

"That is correct."

"22000 pesos?" Bruno looked quizzical.

"That was my purchase price ... so you must offer a good margin on that." 

"And she has assigned to you..." Bruno read from the folder, "... all rights to appoint the time, occasion and means by which my hymen will be breached ..." 

"That is the standard agreement."

"I am an artist," Bruno announced, "This agreement opens up all sorts of possibilities."

"Possibilities?" echoed Mama. 

"Possibilities for the artistic imagination. There must be many ways to deflower, but, I wonder? What would be a fit way to deflower a slut with a sewer for a mouth?"

"Well, before you let your artistic imagination run away with you, you must first make a bid," said Mama.

"I'll give it careful thought, but for now I'll just avail myself of the slut's oral service." 

Mama spoke sternly. "Do not spook the girl with your strange talk." She looked to Blen, "Take him to the booth, and show him what a good girl you are." 

"May I keep the folder for the moment?" Bruno asked, and Mama nodded. 

Blen led Bruno to the booth, wondering whether he was mad, or weird, or malicious. Her customers came in all varieties, but she did not see their eccentricities. They all had in common, a desperation for a small slice of that joy which she generously supplied to the needy, regardless of age, looks, dress sense or potency. Bruno did not seem to fit into the general currency of customers, and for the first time she entered the booth wishing she did not have to render service.

They sat, and Bruno laid her photos on the table. "If I enjoy you, I will buy your cherry."

Blen paused. "Oh." 

"Would you like that?" 

"I do not know." She dreaded the thought. 

"We shall see. Take off your costume; I want to see your body."

Blen did as she was told. 

"Stand up," Bruno directed. "Turn and bend ... show me your ass."

Blen slid her hands down the front of her boots to clasp her ankles whilst peering back round her left knee at him. He peered back, pulling her thong to one side and pulling her ass cheeks apart to inspect her anus, then pressing them together shaping them with his hands and gently pressing with his fingers to test their firmness.

"Good. Now, sit here on the table." He moved her photos to one side.

She perched herself on the table facing him.

Lifting her legs, he then turned her backwards across the table. "Here, hold your legs apart." He wrapped her arms around her legs. 

Leaning forward, so his face was no more than two feet from her pubis, he pressed a thumb each side of her pussy and pulled her open, prising apart her labia to expose her hymen. Peering through her knees Blen was relieved to see the anger fade, and his face break into a smile, and she felt her pink parts glisten in welcome at the intruding eyes.

"Very pretty, very pretty indeed." His voice was light and melodic. He looked into her eyes, and flattered she returned his smile.

But, in an instant his face hardened again, his voice harsh and imperious. "You are truly a slut virgin. I shall enjoy destroying your hymen. Now give me a blow-job."

Intimidated, Blen hurriedly slid off, and under the table. With trepidation, she freed Bruno's penis, somehow expecting it to reflect his deformed personality. To her surprise it was normal, a pink and healthy penis, typically rigid with anticipation. 

"Now, open your foul sewer, and suck the scum out of me." 

Blen took him in her mouth and fixed his eyes with hers, thinking mastery would now shift to her as it had done with all her previous customers. 

Bruno gazed back, and wrestled with his instinct to let go, but determined to retain the upper hand. "You have the compelling eyes of a born whore," he growled.

She worked her craft until he approached fulfilment, at which point he grabbed her head. "Now swallow..." He pulled her face hard onto his penis. "... Swallow..." he ordered, "... Swallow." 

Blen's nose was pressed into his belly, and she could not breathe. She began to struggle. As she tried to pull back, he pulled her further forward, until the tip of his penis nudged into her throat. "Swallow... " he said, "Swallow, swallow, swallow ... and I'll let you go." 

She opened her throat, and the end of his penis entered. She began to choke and coughed convulsively, and tried to pull away, but Bruno pulled her tighter forcing himself further into her throat. He held her there, contorting and convulsing as she struggled to breathe and at the same time expel his penis from her throat. He grunted with contentment as her spasming throat milked his penis, until it in turn spasmed, injecting his come into her. Even when his spasms passed, he continued to hold her, struggling and suffocating, clamped tightly to his groin, in the hope that the exquisite sensations would return. 

After half a minute, he gave up hope and let go. 

As she pulled her head back, Blen vomited out his penis in a thick froth of saliva and semen, then she threw her head and shoulders back, desperately and noisily sucking in air. Her eyes bulged, her face crimson, with a purple tinge on her lips.

. "You ... fucking ... bastard," she managed, barely able to breathe and speak at the same time. "You ... fucking ... bastard." 

She began to sob with rage. 

He laughed, ridiculing her protest. "I did enjoy you; you are a good little whore. I shall also enjoy taking your cherry. I will make Mama an offer." The words were dismissive and calculated to torment.

"Fuck you," was all Blen could manage. 

"Here..." He placed a 1000p note on the table. "... I show you, I like you." 

Blen picked up the note, screwed it into a ball, and threw it at him, spitting her words, "You are ... a fucking asshole ... you will not touch me ... again." Turning, she ran back to the changing room, where she sat and cried with anger and frustration. 

This was her first customer who had been in any way abusive, and she did not understand why he wanted to be with her if he did not like her.

While other girls still comforted her, Daddy Don came in. "What do you think you're doing Blen? You've just been rude to a customer. You're not here to drive business away." 

"But Daddy he does not like me," she sobbed, "I do not know why he wants to be with me?" 

Daddy shrugged. "We don't psychoanalyse here, we just provide service with a smile. Now come and apologise." 

"But Daddy..." she began. 

"No buts. We're in the hospitality business, the customer is always right, now let's go." His manner was uncompromising, and Blen understood he would not be contradicted. 

He led her back to the table. "Now apologise to Bruno." 

Tears welled in her swollen red eyes; her voice was flat, and her apology economic. "I am sorry." 

Nonetheless, Bruno affected magnanimity. "Your eyes look so pretty now, how could I not forgive you. Now take your tip and we will be friends again." He placed the 1000p note on the table. 

She hesitated. 

"Pick up your tip and say thank you," said Daddy.

Blen picked up the note. "Thank you." Her voice remained faint, the words forced through her sore throat. She turned and walked briskly off. As she passed the stage, she threw the screwed up note among the dancers, one of whom, recognising the colour before the others understood what had happened, pounced on it.

That evening, Blen with her sore throat, and Amor with her sore bottom, lay on their bed and reflected on the strangeness of foreign men.

"Maybe it is because western women are so strict," ventured Amor, "maybe because they do not show their men love, it all build up inside and they have to imagine." 

"Maybe some get angry in their imagination." Blen, was thinking of Bruno. "It is like he try to punish me, but I will give him everything."

"Anyway, for us it is an earning opportunity." Amor adopted Mama's manner of expression. "Already I have a customer tomorrow. His name is Tom. He like my pony tail, so he liked to take me, but my butt is sore, so he paid my advance bar-fine, and he will take me tomorrow."

"What about Danny, will he mind if you have a customer?"

"No. He just ask me to be honest to him, and tell him about my customers."

"Did you tell him about The Masters of Uranus?" asked Blen.

"Yes. He is very interest. He is looking forward to ass-fuck with me now."

"If he loves you, why does it interest him? Does he not feel jealous?"

"No. He like to share my experience with me. It is like phone sex. Then I can do it for both of us," explained Amor.

Blen pondered that for a moment. The love of foreign men did seem strange. 

"Do you think Bruno like to hurt me?" 

"No, I think he like you very much. Why will he hurt you?" replied Amor. 

"He frighten me. Suppose he will buy my cherry." 

"Then you will be rich." Amor remained pragmatic. 

"But I do not want to lose my cherry with him, I will not enjoy it."

"I did not enjoy to lose my cherry," reminisced Amor. "It was Blueboy. As soon as my ass touch the tree, he pull up the leg of my shorts, and fuck me through the gap. It is like he is doing push ups. He pull out, and cum on my T-shirt, then sit with me and talk about his trouble with his girlfriend. I do not enjoy it, and it do not change my life. Everything is the same as before. No pleasure, no boyfriend, no money. Losing my butt-cherry is so much better. Maybe I did not enjoy it, but I will not remember it with regret. It is fun, in a way, and it free me from my debt. Now I can repay you, and send home money."

"No, do not repay. That is my gift," said Blen, "send your money home."

"And tomorrow we are photo-models," concluded Amor. "One month ago it is impossible in a dream."

On Monday morning, Blen went with Amor, and they were at Hygiene by eleven. Amor, now familiar with the procedure, was out in twenty minutes, and the girls were back at the lady-house by midday. At one there was a call from outside the lady-house. It was their driver, a tall and smartly dressed Filipino in a barong Pilipino and grey trousers, with polished, black, lace up shoes. 

"Are you Miss Blen and Miss Amor?" 

"Yes, Siir, that is us," said Blen.

"I am Ferdinand, your driver for today. I am to take you to Jordan. Your car is in the street." 

He led them out of the courtyard and down the narrow alleyway into the street. There, stood a large, shiny SUV. Ferdinand opened a rear door, and helped the girls into the capacious seats. He closed the door, walked around to the front, got in, leaned over, and showed the girls how to fasten and adjust their seat belts.

"We want you to arrive safely. Are you comfortable?"

Without consideration, they confirmed that they were.

"Is the air-conditioning as you like it? Too much or too little?" 

The girls again readily accepted that it was fine. Never before had anyone been so solicitous of their comfort, so they had not developed sensitivity to discomfort.

"Would you like music, do you have a preferred station?"

"Oh, Hot FM. Please, Siir." said Amor. 

The driver pulled away, turned up towards, then left onto MacArthur Highway. The traffic moved slowly. For the first time, Blen and Amor passed down the highway in an air-conditioned bubble, comfortably seated, listening to pleasant music, and watching, through tinted glass, the turbulent, hot, dirty and sweaty world pass by, outside. For the first time, they knew what it felt like to be wealthy, and insulated from the hardship of the masses. Journeying down the highway, packed like sardines in a jeepney, they had felt that was something of a luxury. But this was luxury beyond anything they had imagined.

The driver crossed Abacan Bridge, forked left, then turned into an adjacent sub-division weaving his way through the streets, then pulling up outside tall, double gates let into a high wall surrounding a double lot. When he sounded his horn the gates swang open, he drove in and parked under a car-shelter adjacent to the entrance to a three-storied house. Ferdinand got out, came around, and opened the door for Blen and Amor to alight. 

The front door of the house opened, and Jordan stood there to welcome them. "Hi Blen. Nice to see you. And great that you could come as well, Amor. It is Amor isn't it?"

Amor confirmed that she was, indeed, Amor.

"Let's just sit down, and have a drink and a chat while we wait for everyone else to be ready," said Jordan, leading them into a large, well appointed sala, "There's a CR through that door if you need it. What would you like to drink?" 

Shooters were distributed. Amor slipped into the CR, and washed down a 'pick-me-up' with tap water, then rejoined the group.

The sala was spacious, with several sofas arranged on three sides of a low table, and padded armchairs were distributed strategically around, adjacent to convenience tables. The marbled floor was decorated with colourful rugs, and in the nooks stood, attractive, bush size pot plants. Large, vibrant oil paintings decorated the walls. Blen was awed by the beauty and luxury - more luxurious even than Talent Spot, but brightly lit and spotlessly clean. And, it was for the exclusive occupation of just one family. At home, all her family lived in a dark, low, wooden structure that would cover only one quarter the area of this sala.

"Well, you girls are going to be our princesses, for today," Jordan told them, "If there's anything you want, just ask. We're going to make you look really beautiful, and get some great shots."

Other people began to appear. 

"This is Giselle, she will do your make up and costumes," he pointed at one of a pair of billy boys in their thirties, "and this is Candice, she will coach you in modelling." 

The two bakla smiled, and gave circular hand waves.

"This is Jerome, he will sort out the lights." He indicated a white guy in his mid twenties. "And these are Arnel and Ray." He waved towards two Filipinos in their early twenties. "They will provide general help."

"We can have a couple more drinks, and you can get to know us all, and when we're all familiar we can start. I'll talk you through what will happen. I have an idea for a few sets, but I'm flexible, so if something is good, we can follow up with it. We will make you look as beautiful as possible, and give you really glamorous costumes. You'll go on set, and I will look through the camera and give instructions. Candice will help you out with the poses, and Jerome will run around getting the light right. Arnel and Ray will move the heavy stuff, and fetch drinks, towels etcetera. Is there anything you would like to ask?"

"What kind of photos do you like, Siir?" asked Blen.

"We like glamorous but sexy. There will be a lot of nudity, a little pink, and a little girl-girl contact, but nothing you wouldn't do in the bar."

"What do you do with these photos, Sir?" Amor wanted to know who would see her

.

"These sets are exclusively for our web site. We run a website called Come2AC.com. It's for people who have been to Angeles, or would like to come here. They pay for their membership, which enables them to access our web site, so we provide them with content they want to see. What they want to see, most of all, are beautiful Filipinas. That's why you're our stars today. You will be our girls of the month. We'll have a couple of hundred photos of you for them to browse. To keep them engaged and coming back, we need to provide variety and interest, so the more imagination we can put into the photos the better. We also sell our videos, like the one we made at Poco Jo's pool party. We've nearly finished editing that, and it'll be on sale soon. If you like, we can put your emails on the galleries, and members who are interested in you can contact you. Maybe they will be a future customer, maybe even a future husband."

"Well, I like a husband, if you can find me a husband," said Blen.

"My boyfriend ask if he can see some photos," said Amor. "Can I have some for him?"

"Sure," said Jordan, "we can arrange that. Do you have his email? We can send him a few photos later."

"Yes, Sir, I have it on my cell phone." 

"OK girls, go with Giselle and Candice, and they will get you ready."

The girls were led upstairs by the bakla and shown into a huge bedroom containing a large dressing table with a mirror edged by ball lights, and a large wardrobe with mirror-fronted doors, which Giselle opened to reveal a huge collection of lingerie and costumes - through which she began to search for suitable attire. 




Bar Girl Ch. 08



"You will need to tone up first," said Candice, "we do not want you drooping in front of the camera. Take off your shirt and shorts and I will take you through some simple exercises."

When the girls had done this, Candice took them through some star jumps, until they were breathless, then some stretching exercises, then some callisthenics. They tensed and relaxed their major muscle groups.

"Stand up straight now. Do your arms and shoulders seem to float? Is there a hook on your head pulling your back straight and your chin up?"

The girls confirmed these sensations. Candice could see their torsos were inflated, and waists drawn in. 

"That is how to keep your posture," she advised them, "If you begin to droop, just do a few exercises to bring back your muscle tone. 

Now, take a hot shower, let your skin swell, then finish with a cold shower, and give yourselves a good rub with a towel."

The girls went through into the en-suite shower area. Again, the size and luxury astounded them. There were washbasins, and bench seats, and mirrors, and bottles of liquid soaps and scents. Candice allocated them a shower cubicle each, and instructed them how to turn on and adjust the shower. 

"These are power showers. You can use the spray head to direct strong jets of water wherever you like, just turn it up hot, and play with it. Use plenty of shampoo on your hair."

The girls enjoyed the pinprick sensation of the hot jets against their skin, and soaped, and rubbed, and jetted the whole of their bodies. Eventually, they doused their hair with shampoo, and lathered it up, then deluged themselves in water from the fixed spray, as hot as they could bear, until they were soap free. Finally, at Candice's biding, they turned the spray to cold, and shrieked as their skin reacted to the rapid change in temperature. When they jumped out of the shower Candice wrapped them in bath sheets, and helped them rub down vigorously. They then towelled the worst of the wet from their hair, and tied it up in the towels. 

Candice stood them in front of the mirror. "See how your skin glows ... see ... there are no more seat or clothes marks on your skin. Just do some muscle tensing." 

She paused while Blen and Amor went through some of the exercises she had shown them, tensing and relaxing their muscles. 

"There, that is how you should look for your shoot, just keep looking in the mirror and make sure you stay like this."

The girls looked at themselves in the mirror. They stood erect, their skin glowing with health, their slender figures drawn up athletically with their teen breasts gently swelling from perfectly formed torsos.

"Now, it is hair and makeup," said Candice, and she led them back into the bedroom.

"Come and sit here," invited Giselle, directing Blen into the chair in front of the dressing table. Amor sat to her left.

"I see you have pubic hair, Blen," said Giselle, "I shall have to ask Jordan what he want done about that. Now, I'm just going to do your hair and make you up." She turned on the mirror lights. 

After her eyes adjusted, Blen could see her face illuminated very evenly and brightly in the mirror. She could see slight mottling of her skin, and some small pimples, and every unevenness cast a shadow. It was disconcerting - this was not the reflection she was used to seeing.

"I will make you very friendly to the camera," said Giselle, "you will never look more beautiful".

Giselle set about her work. Blen noticed her skin become even, and the features distinct, her eyes larger and more beguiling. As she worked, Giselle looked over at Amor from time to time. Eventually, she finished Blen's make up and Amor took the seat before the mirror. As Giselle worked her magic on Amor, Blen became aware that she and Amor would have the same face. When Amor's make up was complete, Giselle dried and coiffed her hair. Then Blen's hair was coiffed. 

Side by side, in the mirror the two were hard to tell apart, except by the length of their hair.

As Giselle helped them into some clinging, and revealing, lingerie, Jordan came in for a progress check.

"Blen is not shaved," Giselle reported.

"I know. I was thinking of doing some, with and without, shots. We can poll the members on which they prefer. That means we'll have to change back and forth into costumes, so you'll need to keep track of that. We can do the shaving shots in the garden. 

"You're looking really lovely girls. Our best yet. Just have one more drink, and we'll be ready to roll."

Arnel brought in a tray of drinks and an ice bowl, and the girls nervously sipped away.

Ten minutes later the party made their way to the ground floor studio. Blen teetered down the stairs in high heeled, shiny, black, plastic boots, tensing her muscles as she went, anxious to project the right image. In the studio, the girls stood before the mirror while Giselle made final adjustments to hair, makeup and costumes, and finally they were ready. Candice led them over to stand before a white background sheet. Jerome moved around adjusting lights and reflectors. At last, they stood there before the camera, looking like twins, dressed only in black corsets with yellow piping, black suspender belts, and black stockings with the high-heeled boots elongating their legs.

"OK. We'll start with some standard shots to loosen up. If you look at the screen at the back of the studio, you'll see what I see through the camera; make sure you see what I'm calling for."

Jordan then began to shoot. Candice conveyed his instructions in Bisaya, and moved in to demonstrate poses, and adjust limbs. Blen and Amor could see their images on the screen. They did look like twins, with the same face, the same height and similar bodies, similarly clad. In contrast to her reflection in the bar, her image on the screen was bright and sharp, and Blen was absorbed by it. She had one ear for Jordan and Candice's instructions, but she posed for her own admiration, seduced by her own appearance. 

"Let's have a costume change," called Jordan.

Giselle hurried the girls to one side, and helped them change into something more frilly but less revealing. The backdrop was changed, adjustments made to the lights, and props introduced. When the barefoot girls again appeared before backdrop, they could see an entirely different tableau on the screen. Now, they were fresh faced young girls, rather than sultry vamps. The cycle of posing began again. Blen was really enjoying it. Another costume change, into Christmas wear, and a welter of poses, and the studio shots were completed for the moment.

"Let's get out into the garden. We'll start with the shaving set," said Jordan.

Arnel, Rey and Jerome ran about busily moving props and equipment, Jordan cradled his camera and totted his tripod, Giselle and Candice gathered up costumes and make up boxes. They made their way into the garden, where Jordan selected a spot shaded from direct sun, but which could be illuminated with reflectors. A garden seat was set up and prepared. The girls stripped naked.

"Just stand here and compare your pubes" said Jordan, "point to one another's, and lets have some expressions of curiosity, puzzlement, whatever."

Having established a prelude, Jordan invited Blen to sit in the chair. "The camera needs to see the action, so keep your legs well apart at all times. You won't have a screen to look at here, so keep the camera in mind."

Blen sat in the chair, and laid back. Candice organised her legs as Jordan found his frame.

"Looks good," said Jordan, "bring in Amor."

Blen's legs were spread wide once again, and her pussy was exposed to the view of all. In the background she could see, on the balconies of the house, in one group the housemaids, and in another some foreigners, all paused to watch the proceedings in the garden. Arnel and Rey stood behind the camera, eyes fixed on her, and Jerome knelt a few feet off, intently focusing the warm sunlight onto her pussy, which warmed in response.

Amor was arranged, kneeling before Blen, and the necessary instruments laid out before her on a towel. 

"Just pull on a few strands of her pubic hair with your right hand, keep half turned to the left, make a surprised face, a delighted face, a few facial expressions," said Jordan.

So the scene began. Instead of scissors, Amor was provided with an electric razor to shear off Blen's pubic hair. Its friendly buzz tickled Blen, and the delight on her face was captured by the camera. Amor was told to squirt a small amount of gel on Blen's pubis, and massage it into a thin creamy white film, covering all her hairy areas. She then shaved it off, and bathed and dried Blen's groin. 

"Use the talcum powder," instructed Jordan, "it'll make for a good contrast. Pull on her pussy lips, and spread them, first."

Amor pulled open Blen's pussy, and pressed her labia back against her groin. She then dusted her vulva with talcum powder, and blew away the excess.

"Now, back where you started, and compare yourselves to one another again," said Jordan, "Looks of satisfaction, and approval please."

Having concluded the shaving scene, they returned to the studio. Blen stood in front of the mirror, and scrutinised the change in her reflection. Her labia stood out like folds of floured pastry on a rolling block. She thought the look very neat and modern, and one which she should keep.

The talcum was quickly cleaned away, and Blen and Amor went through a breathtakingly swift change of the costumes they had worn before, striking just a few poses, selected by Jordan, in each.

"Next we'll use the living room," said Jordan.

Again, the necessaries were quickly relocated. Blen and Amor were costumed in teen clothes, and their hair parted into two bunches. A variety of pastel coloured soft toys were thrown about as props.

"OK. You're a couple of schoolgirls enjoying a little horseplay. You have a little pillow fight, use the soft toys, then you start to pull at one another's clothes. The clothes will come off. Then you take an interest in each other's bodies, then, you get into a little kissing and cuddling. That's the scenario, let's start with the pillow fight," said Jordan.

He gave instructions, and Jerome bustled around with lights. Candice intervened to present the girls to best advantage to the camera. It was the most active scene so far. Soon, tops and knickers were pulled off, and the girls began to inspect, and feel, one another's breasts.

"Now I want you to kiss passionately," instructed Jordan.

Blen and Amor kissed deeply. Though they had known one another since they were two years old, they had never kissed, except in a platonic way. They had never thought of kissing passionately. Blen, however, realised she enjoyed embracing her friend so intimately. She thought of Belle, and the orgasmic experience she had enjoyed with her, and became aroused. In those few moments, she wondered how it would feel that night, when she curled up to sleep with Amor.

"We can move on to a little girl-girl action," said Jordan. "If you lie back Amor, Blen can come in through your legs. Can you just kiss your way down from her waist to her pussy?"

Blen started to kiss at the bottom of Amor's ribs - the moves Belle had taught her, and the excitement, returned, and she slowly went through same sequence, but remaining conscious of the camera, and the need to play to it. 

"You're doing fine," said Jordan, "just keep going, do your own thing."

Blen arrived at Amor's pussy. She could smell it, and feel the smoothness of Amor's skin. It was as inviting as Belle's. Blen felt the desire to give Amor pleasure. She firmed her tongue, and entered Amor's vagina, probing and licking, feeling Amor's body heave in positive response. There was now silence, Jordan had ceased giving instructions, but his camera continued to flash and hum. Amor's hips thrust up, and Blen pressed back, tongue on clitoris. Then Amor collapsed back. 

"Now nice hug and kiss," said Jordan.

As they hugged, Amor said, "I close my eyes, and it is just like Danny. How did you know to do it?"

"That is what Belle show me," replied Blen.

"I'm sure we're all in the mood for a little more," said Jordan, "let's do the bedroom."

For the bedroom shots, the girls were costumed in basques, and complementary attire.

"We'll continue with the girl-girl theme," Jordan told them, " start off lying on the bed, first cuddling and kissing then, Blen, you will lean over and open the drawer in the bedside table, there's a vibrator in there, take it out show it to Amor, then turn it on, and start to use it." 

Candice showed Blen how to operate the vibrator. As she ran it over the back of her hand, the memory of Mama's vibrator playing on her pussy came back to her, and also the delicious fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. 

Shooting went well. 

Blen leaned over, took out the vibrator, switched it on, and showed it to Amor. First, she applied it to her own breasts, then, she applied it to Amor, starting with her breasts, and working down. She pressed the tip against Amor's clitoris, as Mama had done to her, and she noticed that Amor responded as she had herself.

"Give me a little penetration," called Jordan, "Just slip it in. We'll get a few shots, then, we're finished here."

Candice interpreted into Bisaya for Blen. She slid the squirming vibrator into Amor's vagina. Amor arched with pleasure.

"Tongue on clit," instructed Jordan.

Blen leant forward, and pressed the end of her tongue against Amor's clitoris, moving in small firm circles. Amor writhed. The camera flashed several times.

"Fine, let's do the pool," concluded Jordan.

Outside, the swimming pool, much larger than the one at Poco Jo's, was bathed in sunshine.

"These will be oil and water shots, just group shots," Jordan told them.

Bottles of oil were produced for the girls to rub down. It was heavy, sticky and clear, but pleasantly scented. The girls posed together in various ways, gleaming in the sun, with water spraying over their bodies. 

Finally, Jordan said, "Let's do some stack shots. I want to capture your best assets, then, we're finished."

The girls were arranged one on top of the other, Blen sat in Amor's lap with the pair rocked backwards.

"Show me some pink. I want you to open up as wide as possible," instructed Jordan.

Candice conveyed his meaning, and Blen and Amor stretched open their pussies. 

"Get some light on Blen's pussy," Jordan directed Jerome, who moved a reflector.

In the strong light, Blen's hymen glinted white against the pinkness of her labia. Jordan took several shots.

"Great. Now the other way up," he said.

The girls were arranged with Blen bent forward, and Amor bent forward over her.

"Now, just pull your ass cheeks apart as far as possible," said Jordan.

The girls did so. In response, Amor's anal rose relaxed, and opened up to gape at the camera. Jordan clicked away.

"That's it. All done," he called, and the shoot was over.

The girls returned to the showers to wash away the oil and make up. They changed back into their own clothes, and emerged from the bedroom, having morphed back once more from princesses into paupers. Jordan scrolled through Amor's cell phone to find Danny's email, and promised he would send him a selection of her best shots.

The girls wished everyone goodbye, and they were ushered back into the SUV. Once again, they traversed MacArthur highway, insulated in luxury, with 1500 pesos each in their pockets, earned for three hours easy work. The SUV turned up Fields Avenue and came to a halt outside Talent Spot. The girls felt very grand as Ferdinand walked round to open the door for them and it thrilled them to dismount from this luxurious vehicle as the door girls looked on. Ferdinand even opened an umbrella to shelter them as they crossed the sidewalk to the door.

"Goodbye ladies," he bade them courteously, and they disappeared inside Talent Spot.



Bar Girl Ch. 09



Chapter 9. 'Drugs and Debt Reduction.'

Hu-Fan. Tom's special boom-boom. Mama rings the changes. Chez Mama raided. Ginalyn robbed. Nick. Second Pay-day.

Seeing the girls enter Talent Spot, Mama called Blen over and sat her down. 

"I have good news. I have receive an email from a regular customer. He is a wealthy Chinese called Hu-Fan, and he will come over from Kuala Lumpur every year for a holiday with his friends. This time he will bring his friend who need a virgin, and he ask me to arrange her."

Blen sighed with relief. "Oh Mama, I was afraid it would be Bruno, I do not want Bruno." 

"Well, Bruno has not made an offer," said Mama carefully, "but I believe he is serious, and he is also very rich. William tell to me he is very, very rich. If you can hook him, you will do very well. It will be a good reward for submitting to his strange requirement, so think about that carefully. Anyway, I have email your photos to Fu-Han, and we will wait what he will say." 

"When will he come?" 

"In five weeks." 

Very shortly after Amor took the stage for her first set, her customer entered the bar and waved her down to sit with him. Amor signalled ladies drink for her and Blen, he nodded, and they came and sat with him. 

"Tom, this is my friend Blen, she will chat you while I change." 

"OK. You two look like twins, are you sisters?"

"She is my soul sister only," answered Amor.

"OK. Hurry back, I'm missing you."

Tom had beads of perspiration on his forehead, as if he had arrived in a hurry. Blen took a napkin and wiped his face. He began to ask excitedly about Amor. How long had Blen known her? How long had she been in Angeles? Did she have a husband? A boyfriend? A regular customer? Was she popular? How often was she bar-fined? Is she honest? Does she take drugs? Does she get drunk? What is her favourite kind of guy? Does she like foreign guys? Does she like older guys? What does she like to eat? Where does she like to go bar-hopping? What would she like as a present?

Blen lied only about the drugs and boyfriend.

Amor returned in her street dress.

"You look sooo beautiful," Tom told her, and she flicked her head back and smiled. "I don't know how you could look more beautiful," he added, "but maybe if you were wearing this."

From his pocket he took a box, and from the box, a necklace that sparkled colourfully. With a shriek of delight, Amor bent forward to receive it, then slipped off her stool and stood in front of the mirror wall to admire it.

Returning to Tom's lap, she embraced him and pressed her lips passionately against his. "Thank you ... Thank you ... Thank you." She hugged him tightly. 

Blen sat in silence, and watched. Amor was perched like a pretty doll in Tom's lap, kissing his face, rubbing his arm and caressing his ego as he immersed himself in the pleasure of her attention.

Eventually, Tom asked, "Now where would you like to go?"

Amor kissed him and gazed up into his eyes, "It is up to you. You are the boss."

They left, bidding Blen goodbye. 

Amor led Tom out into Fields Avenue. As they passed through the door, Blen saw Bruno enter. Her heart bounced and she sat, frozen, looking in his direction. He immediately sought her attention, waved, came over, and mounted the stool opposite. While he ordered mineral water, and a ladies drink, Blen remained sullen and silent. 

He sipped his water and looked at her purposefully. "I've decided to buy your cherry."

The anger burning inside Blen must have shone in her eyes.

He blinked and added apologetically, "I've also decided to marry you." 

Blen frowned in puzzlement.

He elaborated, "Yes, I will marry you, and you will be very rich. You will have a big house, a car, and servants, and all your family can come and live with you." 

In the long pause that followed, Bruno could see in Blen's eyes the kaleidoscope of emotions and questions churning inside her head.

"But ... why?" she forced out belatedly. 

Bruno replied with the tone of a man explaining the flatteringly obvious, "You are a goddess whore. You are what the corrupt part of every man desires, and I desire you."

"You said you would turn me into shit," spat back Blen.

Bruno was irritated that Blen had spurned his compliment by reminding him of his rashly honest words. "Either you will consume me, or I will consume you. Now, you are consuming me," he said. 

Their eyes locked in confrontation, until Blen broke the silence. 

"Do you love me?"

"You are a goddess, I worship you," said Bruno. 

"Then why you rape my throat?" she challenged. 

"You made me do that. You have power that you do not understand and cannot control. You looked into my eyes and you hypnotised me. You told me to take my pleasure as it pleased me. You have dangerous eyes, your looks are commands. You commanded me." 

Blen thought of Amor, looking into Tom's eyes, and telling him, "It is up to you. You are the boss," and, in a way, she understood. Tom would never be the boss. He would spend his life guessing what Amor, or his next girl, really wanted; their unspoken wish his command. She paused. "Ring the bell," she ordered. 

Their eyes locked again. Eventually, Bruno's face broke into a wry smile. He walked over and rang the bell, and the dancers and waitresses cheered and shrieked uproariously. 

When all the girls held a glass in their hands, he toasted, "Blen's maidenhead." 

This provoked much vulgarity.

Mama joined them at the table. "I am glad you two have put last night's misunderstanding behind you."

"We understand each other better now," said Bruno. "I will buy her cherry." 

"You can bid ... But I already have an offer," said Mama. 

"The Chinaman?" asked Blen. 

"No. You have a secret admirer. He call me tonight."

"How much has he offered," asked Bruno casually, adding, "I will offer more." 

"50,000 pesos." 

"Who is that?" asked Blen, intrigued. 

"I cannot say. Client confidentiality," said Mama. 

Bruno's face turned stony. After a short silence, he growled, "You have an anonymous man who has offered 50,000, and I am to pay more." 

"Yes," said Mama. "If you give me 50001 pesos, now, you can take Blen home tonight." 

Blen choked on her drink. "Just like that Mama?" 

"If Bruno wants you. Yes."

Bruno's hooded eyes grew darker. "I will not be made a fool. There is no anonymous offer. You are just holding me to ransom because I have money." 

Mama affected frankness. "There is a genuine offer on the table. You can easily afford to beat it. It is pocket fluff to you." 

Bruno was close to losing control. He glared at Mama, stood up, and handed his tabs to the waitress. "I will not be treated fraudulently because I am a foreigner. I will beat any open and certain offer. I am a businessman, I will not be played for a fool." He ostentatiously counted out five 1000 pesos and slipped them in his tab-jar. "Keep the change," he told the overjoyed waitress. He then unfurled ten 1000 peso notes, and placed them in Blen's hand. "There, my little goddess, that is but a drop in the ocean that I keep for you. We can plan more, soon." With a final glare at Mama, he walked stiffly out of the bar. 

Mama's eyes followed him, then turned back to Blen. "What are you planning Blen?" 

"He wants to marry me," Blen said morosely, "but I do not want him ... Who is my secret admirer? Maybe I like him better?"

"He is someone who has seen you and he like your style."

"Was he my customer?" 

"No. You did not meet him. But he saw you. And he think you have possibilities." 

"What sort of possibilities?" 

"He is a movie maker," said Mama. "He want you for a movie." 

"What movie? How can I be in a movie? What does he want?" Blen thrust out her chin as she barked each question.

Mama was exasperated. "I cannot answer your questions. He mention only possibilities. But his offer is firm." 

"Bruno also say my possibilities. But what is it?" Blen wondered out loud.

She danced the evening out, declining blow-jobs while her throat was still sore.

Amor returned to the lady-house in the middle of the following afternoon. Blen was squatting on the bed with Precious. Girlie had gone swimming with Anabel in the hope of fitting in a bonus short-time before work. Amor clambered onto the bed, and they all hugged.

"Congratulations!" said Amor, grinning at Blen.

"For what?" said Blen, dejectedly. 

"For getting married."

"But I am not getting married."

"Not? Everybody is talking that you will marry Bruno. He has paid your bar-fine for one month." 

This was news to Blen. "Who tell to you that?" she asked. "I cannot go bar-fine. He has not bought my cherry."

"Mama herself tell me. She say you cannot go short-time. No more blow-jobs for one month. He just want you for himself."

"Maybe he will want his blow-job every night; maybe he will rape my throat again," Blen contemplated, ruefully. 

"No. Mama said he is gone away in Europe for one month, he just reserve you for his return."

Blen suddenly bounced on the bed and clapped her hands with delight. "He is gone ... he is really gone?"

"Yes, for one month," Amor confirmed.

Blen bounced some more, and then, as she subsided, said in a lighter tone, the tension in her voice dissipated, "And, Precious also have good news."

"Darren also want to support me," said Precious. 

"Also?" queried Amor. 

"Klaus will send me support also."

"But, what about marriage?" asked Amor. 

"Like Mama say, until I am ask, I must secure myself. It is first come, first served. Until then I must accept all interests," explained Precious.

"Do you tell these guys you still work?" asked Amor. 

"I say I will live in the province, but if I do go in the province I may miss a sincere guy. It is too much risk, so I will just take my holiday before they return." 

"And you, Amor. How is your bar-fine?" Blen asked, "He seem to like you a lot." 

"He is very sweet. It is his first time in Angeles; he has save up because his wife give him a hard time."

"Wife! Oh dear, he is not available," said Precious. 

"No, but he love me," said Amor, "he will come back to see me soon, but his wife must think he is somewhere else." 

"Did he enjoy his special boom-boom?" asked Blen meaningfully. 

"Oh yes. He is so excited. The first time he fuck my ass, he is crying. He call his wife a fucking sadistic bitch. He really hate with her. He wish he meet me twenty years ago" 

"It will be your mother twenty years ago," reminded Blen. "Will he bar-fine you again?" 

"Yes," said Amor, "but tonight he will go bar-hop, he like to enjoy Angeles." 

"Go butterfly?" said Precious, "You must not let him go butterfly." 

"He is not available. Let him have his joy." Amor was philosophical. "I like a guy who is available, like you and Blen have. I want Danny. I like to be married."

That evening, at Talent Spot, Mama explained to Blen what had occurred. "It is complicated. But you are a lucky girl. Your pussy is a gold mine. 

"First, Fu-Han has email to me that his friend see your photos and is very happy with you. I email that I have already an offer of 50,000. He call me to say to wait, he will talk with his friend. Then he call me to say his friend will pay an option to bid on your cherry, but he want to meet with you first, he will buy a six-week option. I offer another girl, but he does not like another girl, so he will keep his chance to bid with a 50,000p, no-return deposit. He will transfer the money. I will check my account tomorrow, but it is certain. 

"Then Bruno come in. He say he will buy now for 50,001, because he is to go in Europe. In addition, he like to marry with you when he return. I tell him I have an option. He say he will beat any offer, but I tell him I do not get an offer for six weeks, then he can decide. He is upset because he can buy you last night for 50,001 pesos but he refuse, now he look a fool - but he is willing to be a fool for you. 

"You have hook him. He is jealous even that you give the blow-job. I tell him he can pay your bar-fine while he is away, then you will only dance. He say he do not like you to dance, but I tell him you are my headline girl, so I need you to dance, and anyway, I can guard your cherry if you are in Talent Spot. He has pay a one-month bar-fine. 37200 pesos." 

"What does all this mean?" asked Blen, unable to grasp everything at one telling. 

"It mean," said Mama, with exhilaration in her voice, "you will keep your cherry for another six weeks, then Bruno and Fu-Han will bid against one another. And, just for staying virginal for six weeks, you get 18,600p, the bar gets 18,600 and I get 50,000. That is just for options. Think how much then they will actually bid for your cherry." 

Blen looked down and rubbed her groin. "Why is it my pussy?" Is my pussy different to other girls?" 

"It is not your pussy, Blen," said Mama, "It is your eyes, your smile, the way you move. It is your personality they like to fuck. It is never about the pussy, it is all in the head. You can control their minds and do not know you do it."

"Bruno said that also. But I do not make them do bad things." 

"You make them free to be what they like to be, but you are not responsible for what they like to be," Mama assured her, "And, there is more." She opened a drawer, took out a cell phone, and handed it to Blen. "This is your gift from Bruno. He will like to speak with you while he is away."

Blen held the phone, and stared at it, bug-eyed. It was better than any she had seen at Savers or SM Malls. It was a touch-pad smart-phone with lots of icons and apps. 

"It is subscription. You do not have to pay. Bruno pay. And it is data also, you can internet with it."

Her face fell. "But then, will he call me?"

"He is in love to you. He will marry with you. Of course he will call to you while you are apart. And he has enter his number, so you can call to him." Mama spoke as if admonishing a child to eat its porridge.

Daddy's grumpiness was deflected from the girls by events up Perimeter Road. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than giving vent on the girls, it was giving vent on the authorities. An experienced club owner, Rodney, who Daddy Don knew well, had been locked up on a charge of sexually assaulting his four-year-old daughter.

"Some fucker has sent an anonymous email to the NBI, alleging he's assaulting the girl. That's it. No statement. No affidavit. No evidence. But Rod is locked up, and now and he's being hit for 90,000 pesos for bail. He's lived here for years, he's married with a Filipino wife, he's well connected, but it counts for nothing with these fuckers. One anonymous email and they can wrap him up in red tape. He's in jail, and his daughter is taken away by Welfare. They'll even lock up a four-year-old kid to get some leverage. His wife is trying to raise the bail on security of his properties. But fuck knows how much he'll need to pay to make this go away. The fuckers have asked for 1.5 million pesos to arrange his exit from the country. Well he ain't going. It maybe that someone just wants to take over his clubs. Or maybe get revenge. An anonymous email, an envelope full of cash and the NBI swing into action."

That evening, Blen and Amour developed their double act while on stage, and sat with Precious and Girlie between sets, discovering the workings and delights of Bruno's gift, her new cell phone. 

Customers were now very few. Outside, the rain persisted, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. Lightning flashed through the evening sky, and even when the rain relented, electrical storms silently flickered between the clouds, lighting them up at random, beautiful but menacing. Fields Avenue frequently flowed with rainwater, or was plunged into darkness as the electricity supply failed. Brownouts were now routine, sometimes four or five times a day. Inside Talent Spot, these brownouts were marked only by slurring of the music, and a few seconds on standby lighting while the backup generator kicked in. 

The bar scene, like a perennial plant, passes through an annual cycle of growth, flowering, fruitfulness, die back and hibernation. It was now in hibernation, and Talent Spot, though well positioned on Fields Avenue, needed a strategy to secure its share of the available trade. Daddy Don and Mama Mutia sat in the rear and discussed a program of promotional events. There were two ready standbys, Daddy's birthday and the anniversary of the opening of Talent Spot. Tuesday 17th October was pencilled in for Daddy's birthday and Monday 13th November for the anniversary party.

The following night, Mama introduced the first promotional changes. Amor was to take Blen's position as headline girl. She had mastered all Blen's moves, and bore a striking resemblance to her. Girlie would provide a short-time service, now to be 'a suck n' a fuck', in the booth. Blen was to become a shooters girl. She would wear a cowgirl costume with bottles of tequila in her holsters and glasses in her bandoleer, and limes and salt etc. She would go from customer to customer selling tequila shots. The selling point was that she would provide the customer with a body shot if he bought a drink for her - and he could take a body shot on her if he bought himself a certain number of drinks. The body shot consisted in taking the after-shot, the lime and salt, from the nipples of the customer, or shooters girl, as the case may be. This could be done very sensuously. Mama was satisfied that this came within the limitations imposed by Bruno's bar-fine.

The evening passed slowly. The girls got a gentle practice in their new roles, but business remained flat. Blen wondered how this would affect her earnings. She would need to sell five or ten shots to earn the equivalent of one short-time, twenty to thirty to maintain her previous level of earning, and that seemed very unlikely. She did, however, have 18,600 pesos in advance bar fine to cushion her for the next six weeks, which would be paid pro-rata in her salary over the next month. To fill the long, becalmed periods, she spent time looking at her reflection and developing a dance that did not seem inelegant in her cowgirl costume, and did not spill the bottles or glasses. At least, being a shooters girl meant she had the opportunity to approach and pitch every customer. She knew that the opportunity to speak with the customer was a necessary precondition to a relationship, or even a bar-fine or body shot, so this was an opportunity to select a preferred customer. 

On Thursday night, there was a steady flow, but far from a flood, of customers. By half-past-ten Blen had sold a few shooters, and the evening was ticking over slowly when a Filipino hurried through the door. Seeing Mama, he rushed up, and quickly imparted a message. She pointed to the rear, and as the Filipino made his way back, Mama approached the stage. Waving all the girls to her she began to speak urgently.

As Blen approached to listen, the group was breaking up.

"What is it?" Blen asked Girlie, "What has happened?"

"There have been raids. We must dress properly, no bold shows, no short-times."

Daddy emerged from the rear with the Filipino and came over to Mama. Blen moved in close to listen.

"Mama," said Daddy, "make sure the girls behave tonight. If we get hit, there must be nothing going on, and nothing out of order. Any bar-fined girls must leave the bar. No more bar-fines this evening. Tell the girls that if any of them have anything they don't want the police to find in their bags, to flush it down the CR, now."

Mama turned to the stage, and called out in Tagalog. She gathered the waitresses, and passed the same message, telling then to ensure everybody knew the instructions. Several girls made their way to the rear, including Amor and Anabel. There was one bar-fined girl still in the bar with her customer. Mama approached the customer and explained the situation. He counted his tab, and put several notes in his jar. 




Bar Girl Ch. 09



"If you are caught in a raid, do not say you are on bar-fine, just say you are friends, do not mention Talent Spot," Mama instructed the girl.

Noticing Blen hovering near bye, she called, "No more body shots, sell the drink only."

She returned to Daddy, and as she did so, the door swang open. All eyes turned anxiously. But, it was only two Papa-sans from nearby bars, who were coming in to confer.

"It's Chez Mama," one told Daddy, "a Mom and Pop place up on Perimeter Road. The Mama-san and all her girls have been taken to the lock up."

"Apparently," said the other, "four Filipino guys came in, and started partying, bought some of the girls a few drinks, and so on. After an hour or two, they bar-fined the girls, and left. A couple of hours later, there was a full NBI raid, and all the girls and Mama-san were taken away. The owner, Paddy, wasn't there, so he isn't involved."

"But, I believe his Mama-san is his fiancée. I think they were off to Davao in a few weeks to get married in her province," said the first.

"Oh yes, I've met them," said Daddy, "Paddy and Joline, A nice couple. I hope this doesn't fuck up their wedding plans."

"If they have any money saved for the wedding they're going to need it," said the first Papa-san. "Apparently, the girls who were bar-fined have sworn affidavits saying they were engaged in prostitution."

"Same old. Same old," observed Daddy. "This is the familiar pattern. Money will change hands, the girls will withdraw their affidavits, and the charges will get dropped."

"I wonder if they knew Paddy and Joline were getting married," said Papa-san two. "It puts a bit of pressure on Paddy, what with Joline being his fiancée, and locked up in that shit hole." 

"Well, if they didn't know already, as soon as they find out, Paddy will get a message that if he doesn't pay up soon, she'll be cluster fucked nightly until he does," added Daddy.

Otherwise, the evening proved uneventful. As news of the raids spread, the customers decided to go and stay safely at home, or in their hotels. Mama was watchful, and promptly suppressed any unruly behaviour by the girls. A couple of girls arranged sneak-outs, bar-fines being off the menu. Good order and tedium reigned. The girls' mood matched the grey drizzle that they walked through on the way home.

Friday began with Mama firmly instructing the girls to behave properly at all times. Bar fines were now possible again, but that word was not to be used. The girls were to tell the customer that they could get Early Work Release, if they bought ten ladies drinks, and the waitresses were to be sure that ten ladies drinks appeared on the receipts. No simple, 'BF', or anything like that. Commission must tally with drinks purchased. For the time being, there would be no more short-times in the booth, or body shots, or any lewd exposure in the bar.

During the course of the evening, news began to filter in concerning the fate of Mama-san Joline. Daddy Paddy had retained a lawyer experienced in this kind of case, and it transpired that the girls were ready to withdraw their affidavits. Joline would remain locked up over the weekend, but the prosecutor would consider the matter on Monday, and with the affidavits withdrawn, and evidence from the NBI agents that they had entrapped the girls, it was likely she would be released on Monday. In the meantime, Chez Mama would remain closed, but Paddy hoped to reopen next week.

"We need to keep a central record of how much they're asking," said Daddy, "we need to get a grip on this before it gets out of hand. We're all vulnerable to this gouging behaviour."

Later, some girls returning after popping out for a meal at Linda's in Real Street, reported that there had been a shooting. They had rushed around the corner, to the junction of Vian St and A. Santos, and a few yards down Vian Street there was a body lying in the road. 

"It is two guys on a motorbike," one of the girls told Daddy, "they just drive up and shoot the billy boy, then drive off."

Daddy did not appear shocked. "Probably, just the street cleaning department doing its job," he remarked. "Not before time."

At least there will be a body for the family to bury, thought Blen. On San Fernando, when a score was settled, it was a disappearance. The victim would leave home in the morning, and never be seen again. 

Whatever the purpose of the shooting, it did nothing to deter street crime. The following day, and quite exceptionally, proactive policing - maybe a reaction to a street shooting in the tourist district - resulted in the apprehension of a gang of street robbers. 

A waitress at Talent Spot, Ginalyn, was on her way to work; and as she walked up Teadoro Street in St Maria, towards Fields, she was robbed by a group of youths. Although she may not have looked a particularly attractive target for robbery, she had stopped over at Norma's Money Changer and disappeared behind the awning to ask the current exchange rate for dollars. That may have deceived the robbers into thinking she was changing currency and would emerge with a purse full of pesos. She had merely chatted with the cashier for a few minutes.

Blen, in her cowgirl suit, sat with the coterie, which had gathered around Ginalyn to hear the tale.

Ginalyn told them, "I had just leave Norma, and begin to walk, when I see this big knife pushed at me, by one guy in front. Another, beside me, is pulling at my bag but I do not let go. The guy in front put his knife to my face and tell me, I will cut you, I will cut you, so I let go to my bag, and the guys run away down the street beside. I shout out, but no one help me. The guard from Norma's come over. He cannot leave his post, but he tell me to go to the police station. So I run as fast as I can, up to Fields, and across to the police station.

"The officer ask me how long. I tell him three minutes, so he say, OK, he will see if there is a mobile patrol. He radio, and tell me to go back quick, and meet the patrol car. So I run back as fast as I can.

"I wait five minutes, and I do not think they will come, but they come. I tell them what happen, and Norma's guard tell them where they run to. So one officer say to walk with him, and the other will guard the car.

"We walk down Oak Street, and at the bottom, there is some waste land. There is an old sidecar there, against the wall. Someone is in it, but I cannot see well, because it is behind the building, and it is dark, but it is some boys. The officer call for back-up so we can check the boys. The other officer come in the car, and drive onto the lot. They draw their pistols, and go up to the sidecar, and the boys come out. I do not know if it is the boys who rob me. I say that it is possible, but I am frightened by the knife, I do not remember the faces. One of the officers keep his gun pointed, and the other search the boys. He find a cell phone in the waist of the first one ... it is mine. He then find a knife. I do not recognise it, but he open it, and I see that it is the blade. I remember the blade. The other boy has a screwdriver, but I do not remember that.

"The officer ask where is my bag, and they tell him it is thrown away in Oak Street. We go back to look, but it is gone. The guys are handcuff, and we all go in the car to the police station. They boys are just 15; they come from Agapito. They are not even smart to run away. The officers think they come to rob someone who change their money at Norma's."

"I will be careful next time," said Precious. 

Her 27,000 pesos, changed up from Klaus's gift, would be more than enough to kill for. Next time she would take great precautions. 

Blen remembered that tomorrow was payday, and she determined to carefully conceal her salary before going into the street. She was now prosperous, but prosperity attracted its own problems in a lawless city.

The following morning, being Sunday, Blen rose early and dressed for church. She had scrubbed her best, white T-shirt so it was spotless, and she had put her best jeans under the mattress to be pressed flat. She had also bought a pair of red plimsolls. Blen wanted to dress respectably for Mass and had reserved these garments for church.

Blen did not pay tax. It had never occurred to her that she should. In Desbilla, if a person wished to make a contribution to society, they did so by putting an offering in the Charity Box at church. Blen wished to share her good fortune, so she took her purse from her locker and examined the contents. She had twelve 1000p notes, and several 100p notes. In her head, she made a rough calculation of the salary she would receive tonight. Maybe 10,000 pesos she believed. She had always been told that one tenth of your income was the appropriate amount to give to the poor. On reflection, she decided she would die rather than benefit from Bruno's 10,000 pesos, and would put that also in the Charity Box. Taking eleven 1000p notes and two hundreds, she slipped them in her pocket. 

At half-nine she slipped out of the house, raised her umbrella against the light rainfall, and set off up to MacArthur Highway. She turned left at MacArthur and walked as far as possible towards St Maria II on the left hand side of the highway, which was the easiest pavement to negotiate. Near the church, there was a pedestrian crossing, and there she crossed the highway, though wisely waving at the traffic, because it was not obvious that the traffic paid any attention to the pedestrian crossing.

She bought devotional candles, and found a stand with space to mount and light them, then knelt before them and prayed. She prayed for the same people she had prayed for in Desbilla - her sister, her foster parents, her half siblings, her neighbours, her friends, their parents and their families. Now she added also her housemates, Mama Mutia, Daddy Don, and the girls at Talent Spot. Her prayers were different in one important way. In Desbilla, her prayers were prayers of desperation, the prayers of the impotent. Now she prayed in optimism, as an agent of God, spreading Christian love and charity. She could show her love, and God's love, for her sister and family, by the contributions she made to improving their lives. She could also show God's love for the poor at large by contributing a fair share of her good fortune to the Charity Box. 

As Mass commenced, she made her way to the pews, found a seat and participated in the familiar ritual, but did not receive communion. She had not confessed her sins for several years, not since she had begun to feel the temptations of the flesh, certainly not since she had begun to succumb to them. Her compulsive masturbation was not the sort of sin she felt comfortable confessing to a male priest, and she felt she could not sincerely promise not to do it again. Her compulsion had grown stronger through her teens, and since arriving in Angeles, she had frequently had to leave her bed to rub herself to a climax in the shower cubicle.

At the end of Mass, as the crowd streamed away, she went to the Charity Box and joined the small queue to push her contribution into the box. Folding her 1000p notes, she stepped forward and pushed them through, into the box. 

As she turned away, a figure stepped in front of her. "Excuse me, Miss." 

She looked up into the face of a Western guy. 

"I wonder if you could help me. I'm a visitor to the Philippines, and I don't know what amount is considered appropriate to put in the Charity Box."

"As much as you can afford," said Blen, thinking to herself that he could probably afford to put in as much as the rest of the congregation combined.

"Oh," he said, and paused, "I saw you put in a blue note, would that be 1000p? Is that what people normally put in?"

Blen, felt annoyed. She thought to herself how stupid some foreigners could be. "No, we are poor people, 20 pesos, 50 pesos or 100 pesos are what we can afford."

"Well, maybe I should put in 1000 pesos." He flourished a 1000p note he happened to be holding.

"That will be acceptable," Blen said, and walked by.

A few yards further on she heard him calling, "Miss, Miss."

She stopped and turned as he caught up with her.

"Thank you for your help, you were a great assistance," he gushed.

She fixed him with a look of rebuke. "Do you require any more help to spend your money?"

"No, I don't usually require help to spend money, but I'm new here, it takes a little time to adjust, to know how much to pay for things, how much to tip, even how much to put in the Charity Box," he explained, "but I'm glad I saw you put 1000 pesos in, otherwise I might have short changed the Lord by 900 pesos."

"I am glad then to have help you," said Blen.

"But it can't just have been a coincidence don't you think?" said the man.

"What coincidence?" enquired Blen, baffled.

"If it had been anyone else, I would have seen them put in 100p, even 20p, and the poor would have been short changed. But, it was you I saw. That can't have been a coincidence?"

"You think God send me to guide you along the right path," said Blen, supposing him to be another demented American fundamentalist, and laughed genuinely at the thought of her being sent to guide foreign men along the right path.

"Yes. Nothing happens except the Lord wills it," said the foreigner simply, looking offended.

Blen took pity on him. "I do not laugh at you. I laugh at me."

"I just thought that if, at that very moment, God sent you to give 1000 pesos, he may have sent an example for me. Otherwise, I could easily have happened on a poor person, but I happened on you."

"I am a poor person also," said Blen.

"That clinches it," said the foreigner, "the Lord sent a poor person with a 1000 peso note as my exemplar. He truly moves in mysterious ways. Why else would a poor person, like you, have a 1000 pesos to donate?"

"Me ... I am a student." Blen thinking quickly, borrowed her ambition for Jesusa. "I study to be a nurse." The small lie made her feel good, so she tried a slightly bigger lie. "My money is from my father, he is generous." She felt even better.

The foreigner changed tack. "What happens after church, here? At home it's very social, but here people seem to do their devotions and go home." 

"Yes. Go home," said Blen, encouragingly.

"I'm hungry, I haven't had any breakfast. Is there somewhere I can eat?"

Blen pointed at the Turo-Turos on the corner. 

The foreigner looked dubious. "I'm sure they are good, but I was thinking of something ... more like McDonalds. Is there a McDonalds near here?" 

"Only by the hospital," said Blen. "Take the jeepney for San Fernando terminal, you will see it by the hospital."

"I haven't been able to work out how your public transport works," said the man. "Look, if you would be so kind as to take me there, I would be more than happy to treat you to breakfast."

Blen again fixed him with her accusing, rebuking eye. "Do you try and pick-me-up?"

The foreigner was distraught. "Goodness ... No, no, no. I do hope I haven't given offence. It's that I'm lost and alone in a strange town, and I need help to get breakfast."

Blen thought, He's wet, but harmless, and I'd love to go to McDonalds. "OK, if you promise to behave yourself." She was theatrically stern, enjoying every moment of being the prim, pious virgin for once.

"Of course. I shall be perfectly proper, and I'd be most grateful."

Blen walked him down to MacArthur Highway and flagged a jeepney. 

Developed from the WW2 jeep, elongated and with bench seats down each side in the cramped rear, covered by a canopy, colourfully decorated and emblazoned with the owners name on the front and route stops on the side, the jeepney is the traditional means of public transport in the Philippines. 

They squeezed in the back, crushed up next to one another. Blen handed a note forward, and called "dalawa". The note was handed from passenger to passenger, until the driver reached backwards over his shoulder and took it. He then reached back with a few coins, which travelled the same route in reverse. 

"Let me repay you for the fares," said the man, raising his voice over the revving of the large diesel engine as it laboured to set the over laden vehicle in motion, "I would have paid, but I don't know how."

"What is your name?" called Blen.

He blustered. "I'm terribly sorry, I should have introduced myself, but in all the confusion I overlooked it. My name is Nick. And your name?"

"I am Blen. This trip is a gift from my father," she replied, taking satisfaction that the other passengers noticed that she was paying for the foreigner.

Nick sat, stooping forward, in great discomfort, trying to draw his legs out of the way of passengers getting on and off, until they reached Angeles University Foundation Hospital (AUF). Blen tapped his shoulder, and led him out of the jeepney. She fitted well through the space between the bench seats, but Nick managed to bang his head on the roof several times and catch the knees of every passenger he passed. 

Across the road, he could see McDonalds. There was a pedestrian crossing conveniently nearby, and they crossed, and went up into the restaurant.

Blen had not been in a McDonalds before, but she had heard of the legendary quarter pounder with cheese and fries, and she opted for this, with a coke. As Nick queued for the meals, Blen noticed that there were a lot of student nurses, female and male, in their pristine white uniforms, sitting around the restaurant. She confabulated a response in case Nick asked if she knew any of them. In the event, he did not ask.

He returned with the food, and Blen took hers. He then proceeded to tell her about Sunday 'back home' - the small town church - the Sunday lunch - the visitors - the outings - the series of unremarkable tedia out of which bliss is constructed.

She looked at him carefully. He was about forty years old and an American - that was important. He had not mentioned a wife or family - that was important. He was not what you would consider attractive to women, to other women especially - that was important. He was polite, considerate and did not take himself too seriously. In other circumstances, she would consider him husband material. He wore trousers, and a proper shirt, and his hair was clean and had been cut recently. He talked easily. He smiled easily. He went to church. Why, she thought, does God send these guys only to church, could He not send one or two to Talent Spot?

"I'm sorry to be such a bore," said Nick, "I can see I'm sending you to sleep."

"No. It is OK ," said Blen, "but, why are you here in Angeles?"

"I'm a health tourist. I've come here for some treatment I can't afford at home. There are some cosmetic procedures my insurance doesn't cover, but here I can afford to pay for them myself."

"I hope you are not ill."

"No." Nick showed his teeth. 

They looked fine to her, but clearly, he felt they needed further improvement.

"I'm having a load of dental work done, difficult procedures which take a lot of work. I have to stay here a couple of months, but the work will last the rest of my life."

"In the hospital?" asked Blen.

"No, there's a reputable clinic in St Maria, they are doing the work for me," said Nick.

"So where do you stay while you are here?"

"There's a hotel, just nearby, it's called the Wild Orchard, it's quite comfortable."

"Is there not a lot of bars there?" asked Blen, suspiciously. 

"I couldn't believe it," said Nick, "Whenever I go for a walk, I get all sorts of invitations. It turns out that the street I'm staying on is notorious for ... how can I put this ... oral sex. We don't have anything like that at home."

"Do you try the bars?" 

"Oh no. Oral sex repels me?"

"It interest many foreigners," noted Blen.

"I see that in my hotel," said Nick. "Most of these guys are not here to get their teeth fixed."




Bar Girl Ch. 09



They had now finished their breakfast. 

"I must go home," said Blen.

"You haven't told me about yourself yet," said Nick.

"You just bring me for breakfast, you are not trying to pick me up, remember."

"I remember. I said it, and I meant it. But to be honest, things have changed and I've changed my mind, so I don't mean it anymore," said Nick.

"So, you ARE trying to pick me up." 

"I'm not explaining myself very well. I was just hungry, I just wanted breakfast, I didn't realise I would enjoy your company."

Blen's eyebrows rose. "You did not think you would enjoy my company?" 

"Not so much, I've really enjoyed chatting with you."

"You are chatting, I do not speak," said Blen.

"You have no idea how attractive that can be in a woman. You're a great listener."

Blen's eyebrows rose again.

"I just wondered whether you could spare some time to show me around, I'd enjoy your company, if you wouldn't find me too boring."

"I have my studies," said Blen.

"And you never have a day off?" pressed Nick.

Blen paused, and stared at him for five seconds, trying to resist the temptation. 

"Well, only tomorrow. I am off tomorrow."

"Would you mind, I'd be so grateful, I'm so bored, and there really is no good company at my hotel. Think where you would like to go. You can show me around town, and then it's your call ... You pick the treat."

Blen looked at him carefully. She looked into his dark brown, pleading eyes. She wished she had not lied, but she had. Why act in vain? On the other hand, why not be the girl she wished to be - for just one day - to know how it felt to be such a girl? "We can meet here, at twelve, if you like."

"That's great, just great. Think what you would like to do for a treat," said Nick.

They left McDonalds, and Blen flagged a jeepney. 

Nick gave her a 20p note. "Thank your Dad for the journey out, but I'll pay for the journey back."

Blen put Nick off at Johnnies Supermarket, telling him to cross the road and walk up to A. Santos. He stood and waved as the jeepney pulled away. Blen looked back down MacArthur to ensure that he had disappeared, then jumped off at the bottom of Fields, and made her way back to the lady-house. When she arrived, most of the girls were up and engaged in washing, or cooking, or watching TV.

"How did you enjoy Mass?" asked Girlie.

"I was pick up," said Blen.

"By a nice young man?"

"By an American." 

"In church! Is he one of those strange Americans?" asked Amor.

"Yes. Oral sex repel him."

Amor silently sympathised with his distaste. "So what did you do?" 

"We go to McDonalds for breakfast. I have a quarter pounder with cheese."

"Oooo. That is the oral sex I like," said Amor.

"Will he come into Talent Spot," asked Girlie.

"No. He do not go into bars. He is here for treatment."

"So. Will you see him again?" asked Amor.

"Maybe. Maybe tomorrow." 

Precious's face drooped. "Oh Blen, I expect that you will come out with us tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow evening I will," Blen assured her. "Tomorrow afternoon I will show him around. He will take me for a treat."

"What treat is that?" enquired Girlie, suspiciously.

"I choose. But I do not know what to choose," answered Blen.

"What is expensive?" asked Precious.

The girls passed a pleasant twenty minutes, thinking of expensive treats. 

Blen, Precious, Girlie and Amor grew excited as evening approached, anticipating receiving their salaries.

At the end of the evening they gathered around Mama who totalled their earnings for that day, added that amount to each of the brown Manila envelopes with their names on it, explained the calculation, sorted out any queries, and handed over the envelopes. 

"You girls wait a while, we can look at your credit," said Mama, and they waited while she finalised the salary for the couple of other girls whose payday coincided.

The girls compared their salaries. Blen had received 12,900, a lot less than for her first 15 days. Her blow-jobs had previously provided most of her salary. Now that Girlie was doing the blow-jobs the change was reflected in their incomes. Although Girlie's service had not proved quite as popular as Blen's, with Belle's bar-fines, she received 9000 pesos, a remarkably good salary for the time of year. Blen's salary was as large as it was, because of the pro rata bar-fine paid by Bruno to preclude her from going short-time. Precious and Amor both received 6,100 pesos, largely reflecting their stints with Darren and Danny respectively.

Mama then produced her ledger, saying, "It is rent day today, I'll add that to your credit first," and she finalised her accounts.

"Blen, your credit is 5,250 pesos including rent. You have bought a lot of costumes. Girlie, your credit is 15,742 and Amor yours is 19,540. Precious, you have paid all yours off. Your accounts have now been open for one month, so any unpaid balance today will have 12 ½ % interest added to it. How much do you want to pay off now?"

"Here is my salary Mama," said Amor, "how much is owed after that?"

"Another 13,440p," calculated Mama.

"Still 13000 pesos!" Amor was disappointed. She opened her purse, pulled out a roll of notes, and counted. She proffered a bundle to Mama. "Is that 10,000 pesos?"

Mama counted. "Yes. 10,000. Thank you." She made entries in her ledger. "So with interest you carry forward 3,870 pesos."

"Here is mine," said Blen, and offered the full amount due, taken from her salary envelope.

Girlie took the money from her envelope, added 1000 pesos to it, and handed 10,000 pesos to Mama.

"Thank you. That leaves 6,459 pesos after adding interest. That is just twenty blow-jobs, so you can clear your credit next month.

"Now girls, you have all earn well, most girls will earn far less than you, it is like that at this time of year. You have all had repeat customers. That is the way to earn. If you please a customer, he will bar-fine you out for several times, so make sure you please your customers. You also see that there are other opportunities to earn, so be open to the other opportunities I will offer to you. They will help you pay your credit, and send money home."

As the girls made their way back to the lady-house, Blen asked Amor, "Why do you not pay all your credit, you have 13,000 pesos from the Masters of Uranus, 3000 from the B.O.W, 10,000 from Danny, 1,500 from the photo-shoot and also tips from your customers."

"Yes, but I spend maybe 15,000 pesos on shabu, and I need some money to live," replied Amor.

Blen was horrified. "Amor, how much shabu is that? Maybe you take too much."

"I will take less, just a little bit sometimes," said Amor, shamefaced.

"How much do you have left?" 

"3,500 pesos," said Amor.

"Oh Amor, after you work so hard and earn so well, please be careful, I thought you would be free today."

"I am the most in debt," said Girlie. "I have 7000 pesos left from my tips, but I will send money home tomorrow, that will leave me enough, and I will have more tips. Next month I will be free."

"Tomorrow, I will open a bank account," said Precious. "Mama is correct about the customers. If you keep them until they return home, they will give a big tip. Darren give to me 10,000 pesos. Now I can save money for my future."

The girls were curled up asleep by three-am.



Bar Girl Ch. 10



Chapter 10. 'Bold Star.'

Blen, student nurse. Snatcher at Savers Mall. Girls' second day off. News from Desbilla. Calls from abroad. Blen's BJ movie. Amor's mysterious earning opportunity.

By half-nine in the morning, the girls were all up, looking forward to their day off. The first business was remittances. 

Blen took Amor to one side. "Here is 2000p. Send it home, it is a gift. But I want you to promise with me that you will not spend so much money on shabu. I do not like to help you if I help buy shabu."

Tears welled in Amor's eyes. "I promise. I will spend less. But you know, if I do not have some shabu I am so shy. I would not have Danny if I did not take shabu."

"I know," said Blen, "but I am concern for you. I do not want you to be an addict."

"No. I just take a little bit sometimes for my work," said Amor.

The girls spent less time at the remittance office, having now mastered the procedure. They then took a trike down MacArthur highway, turned off left, just before the church, and drew up in the forecourt of the bank. They went in, in a gaggle, and queued, and watched with fascination as Precious opened her account, deposited 20,000 pesos, was given her receipt, and was told she could collect her ATM card in a few days. She could then draw money from her account at any of the bank's ATMs. With two boyfriends, a cell phone, and a bank account she was the envy of the other three. 

They returned by trike to the lady-house.

It was now eleven-fifteen. Blen began borrowing clothes. She had planned the look she would like to project, and by borrowing here and there was able to approach it. By quarter-to-twelve, she was looking at herself in the mirror. Her reflection, she thought, was how students looked on the TV. She wore a baggy yellow cotton T-shirt over a white, tight vest. Jeans with rolled up bottoms were held at her waist by a chunky leather belt. On her feet she wore basketball boots. Promising to take care of her friends' best clothes she set off, under her umbrella, for the jeepney. Trapped in traffic, the jeepney crept slowly down MacArthur and across Abacan Bridge, and it was not until it forked left towards the hospital that it began to move freely. By quarter-past-twelve, it had arrived at AUF. She got out, and while crossing the road, morphed from 'Blen, blow-job girl' into 'Blen, student nurse'. 

Just through the door of McDonalds, she looked around - there was no sign of Nick. Looking around again, this time with great care, still revealed no sign. She had given up her day-off to meet this jerk and been stood up. She felt foolish, angry, and imagined people watching her standing alone in the doorway - the girl who had been stood up. She blushed in humiliation, and as unimaginably evil thoughts formed in her mind, the door opened behind her.

"Hello there," panted a breathless voice. 

Blen snapped around. 

"I've just run up the road after you. I was on my way back, when I saw you crossing the road." 

Blen still prickled from her imagined humiliation. "Why do you go back? Do you not want to see me?" 

"I was here at quarter-to-twelve. I waited until quarter past. I thought you'd changed your mind."

"I say that I will be here at twelve," said Blen.

Nick pointed at the clock, "It's twenty past now."

"twelve-o'clock, twelve-twenty. Same, same, I do not have a watch." 

The expression on her face telegraphed that appeals to the clock might prove unprofitable, so Nick changed tack.

"Shall we sit down? You look very nice today. Would you like breakfast?"

"No. I like only a coffee. We will eat later, that is my treat." Blen sounded somewhat mollified now that it had been seen that she had not been stood up. "And you look nice, also."

"Why thank you. I'm glad you've thought about your treat. I'll just get the coffees."

Over a T-shirt, Nick wore an open necked, colourful, check shirt, with long sleeves rolled up. His trousers were straw-coloured chinos, and on his feet, he wore leather loafers. Blen thought she complemented his East-Coast casual look perfectly - they could pass as a couple. In another country onlookers would have taken them for father and daughter. In Angeles a pretty, respectably-dressed young girl with a middle-aged foreigner, would be taken for man and wife.

A couple of student nurses in their white uniforms passing the table paused. "Asawa mo, siya?" asked one.

"Boyfriend lang," replied Blen.

They looked over, towards Nick, who looked back, and grinned. "Hansuum," said one, and they moved off. 

They had asked if Nick was her husband.

"Friends of yours?" asked Nick, putting the coffees on the table.

"Yes, they are classmates," lied Blen, "they think you are handsome."

"And you, do you think I'm handsome?" 

Blen studied him for a moment. "Not too handsome."

"Well, you are too beautiful to hide in McDonalds. Drink your coffee and you can show me around town." 

As Blen flagged at a jeepney, Nick protested. "Today, we'll take a trike, just tell the driver where you want to go. Surprise me."

Blen clapped her hands, a trike drew up, and she jumped in. Nick climbed in after her. The cab dwarfed him, and, as he squeezed onto the seat he sandwiched Blen up against the side of the cab. 

He slipped his arm over her shoulders. "Excuse me. I think this is the only way we will fit in."

She felt quite content, nestled up against Nick's chest with his arm around her, being thrown gently against him by the motion of the trike as it vibrated and bumped down the road. Blen considered that she could happily take a long journey in this manner. 

Blen's idea of showing Nick the sights of Angeles consisted of taking him on a tour of the malls and pointing out the fabulous consumer goods. It was as much an exploration for her as for him. She threw in Angeles City market, where Nick took hold of her hand to prevent them being parted in the throng. Blen was puffed up with the pride of a show-off, knowing people were casting envious glances at the girl whose hand was held by the eligible foreigner. She also took him to visit the nearby, central church, and its shrine. Nick was good-humoured and content with her company, appearing to enjoy the tour, no matter how much it resembled a Saturday shopping trip back home. After a trike ride from the market, during which Blen nodded off contentedly with her head on Nick's chest, they arrived at Savers Mall.

As they dismounted from the trike, there was a commotion to their right where cars were parked in a rank along the front of the mall. The guard at the ATMs looked over, but did not move. While their idle eyes still sought the source, a man holding a pistol in one hand and a handbag in the other ran from behind one of the vehicles and sprinted down and through the traffic, crossing MacArthur Highway, then disappearing towards Abacan Bridge. A woman got out of the car, and started shouting. Armed guards gathered round her. Blen and Nick walked slowly past on their way to the entrance, and Blen listened while the woman berated the guards.

"She have been rob," whispered Blen. "It is a snatcher. He snatch her bag when she is getting out her car."

"In front of all those guards?" said Nick. "He must be stupid, he could have been shot."

"We can be shot, if the guards start to shoot, not the snatcher. They do not shoot good. It is best if they do not shoot."

Leaving the excited group behind, they entered the store. An armed guard patted them down. 

"I'm going to buy you a gift," said Nick, "Come with me."

He walked briskly, towing her by the hand, eventually stopping at a jeweller. "Chose a watch. I don't want you to be late again."

"Nick, I do not need a watch," she said, starting to inspect the display.

After a little persuading, she made her choice. It was fitted to her wrist, and they left the jewellers. 

"Now it's time for your treat. What's it to be?" declared Nick.

"My friend tell me that there is this restaurant, it is Chinese, it is by the casino. I like to eat there."

"I think I know where you mean, I've seen it on MacArthur Highway."

Another dreamy trike ride and they were at the restaurant. Nick and Blen were greeted at the door, and graciously ushered to a table by the Chinoy staff. The restaurant was tastefully draped in Chinese themes, Blen was delighted. They were settled at their tables, and Nick ordered drinks. 

"I'm having Tsing Tao beer; it's a delicious Chinese beer. Do you drink beer?"

"I will try it also," replied Blen. 

It did taste delicious, far better than San Miguel.

"What would you like to order?"

"I do not know. It is Chinese. You must order."

"I can get a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, all sorts of tasty pieces which can be eaten with rice." 

Blen sampled the various dishes with pleasure.

"When do you qualify as a nurse?" asked Nick.

"Ahh. In two years."

"And what will you do when you qualify?" 

"I will go in America."

"Will you get a green card?"

Unsure what this meant, Blen answered, "I will go to my uncle."

"And where does he live?"

"In California." 

"I lived in California for a few years," said Nick. "Where does your uncle live?"

As Blen thought about this, she unexpectedly felt her back pocket vibrate causing her to jump, then a polyphonic tune started to play.

"I think that's your phone," said Nick.

Blen pulled it from her pocket, awkwardly punched at it, and held it to her ear.

"Hello Blen," said the caller.

She recognised Bruno's voice, and her face fell, she looked around for a private place. "In a while," she muttered to Nick, and headed for the door.

In the noisy street, she held the phone close to her ear, and said, "Yes."

"You did not call me. Why not?" asked Bruno.

"I do not call you. You call me." 

"I am missing you," Bruno told her, "I am looking forward to taking your cherry."

"There is another who is interest also," Blen told him with satisfaction.

"Do not worry, I have deep pockets. You will be mine. Are you being a good girl?"

Blen, who was for one day only being a good girl, growled. "Why do you like me to be good, you like a whore?" 

"I want you for my own private whore, for my pleasure alone. I spend my lonely moments planning how you will pleasure me. I look forward to possessing you. Very soon, we will be together. Keep your cherry safe for me," said Bruno.

"Mama will keep my cherry safe, I do not care," said Blen.

"Well, goodbye for now, call me soon."

"Goodbye."

Bruno hung up and Blen made her way back to the table, her face creased in thought.

"Is there a problem," enquired Nick.

"It is just my aunt, she is sick."

Her dread of Bruno blighted the remainder of her meal. She was pensive, and though Nick tried to engage her, she responded in monosyllables. The meal was completed and paid for, and they stepped out of the restaurant onto MacArthur Highway. 

Blen turned to Nick. "I must go now."

Nick was taken aback by this abrupt announcement. "The day stretches ahead of us; we could go to the cinema." 

"No. I must go." 

"When can we meet again?" 

"I have my studies."

Nick realised he was being shown the stone wall. "Then can I have your phone number?" 

"No. I do not give my number to guys."

"Well. I can give you mine." Nick took out his pocket book, wrote his name and a number on a sheet of paper, tore it off, and handed it to Blen. "That's my number. Give me a call, just to say Hi. I'll wait for your call. It's up to you."

She pushed the piece of paper into her back pocket and wondered, Why was Bruno her fate? Why could it not be Nick? She wanted to kiss him. She would not see him again. This was her last chance. Tears welled in her eyes. On impulse, she threw her arms around Nick's neck and pulled him down, towards her, and kissed him virgin style on the lips.

When she released him, a perplexed Nick looked foolishly pleased. His mouth opened. Blen turned and ran off sobbing before he could speak. She could hear his footsteps hurrying after her as he called her name.

"Blen, Blen, wait Blen. Blen, what's wrong?" Nick's voice was confused and agitated.

Blen turned right, and recklessly fled through the heavy traffic across the highway, leaving Nick, intimidated by the traffic, isolated on the other side. He followed her from the far-side of the highway until she disappeared down a side road. When she reached the lady-house, she hurried upstairs, and flung herself down on the bed, and sobbed. 

Anabel, who had followed her upstairs asked, "What is wrong Blen. Why are you crying?"

"It is Bruno. He called to me. I hate him."

She lay, turning matters over in her head. She did not regret her deception. She enjoyed being 'Blen, student nurse', for just one day. Better, one day, than never. But how lucky are those who can be such a person all their lives. Hugging a pillow, she fell asleep.

Awakened by a vibration in her pocket, hatred welled up inside her as she pulled out the phone and pressed the button. "Hello," she rasped belligerently.

"It is me Blen. What is wrong?" It was Precious's voice.

"Ohhh ... Sorree ... I think you are Bruno again. He call to me today."

"Well, do not answer to your phone like that, you will frighten him. I call to ask you to come to the movies with us."

"Oh yes, where are you?" Blen's spirits suddenly revived.

"We are at SM Mall, we will wait you. Call to me when you get here." 

"I come right now," Blen said, already on her feet. 

She quickly changed into T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and left.

At the cinema, the girls again immersed themselves in a romantic comedy, and escaped the complications of their lives for a couple of hours. When they came out the other girls wished to eat, so they made their way back to Perimeter Road, walked down to Raymond Street and turned into Real Street, expecting to eat in Linda's. But Linda's was gone, as were the other corrugated and boarding structures that had faced the bars. A fence was being erected and a new development was under way.

The girls made their way back up to Teodoro Street, and crossed to a Turo-Turo on the far side. There, they ate a cheap but filling meal, all but Blen, who graphically described the meal she had eaten with Nick.

"When do you see him again?" asked Girlie.

"No more."

"Does he not like you?"

"He like me, but I cannot send a free meal home. He is a boyfriend for church only." 

Precious looked at Blen's wrist. "Did he give you your watch?" 

"Yes. I can pawn the watch," said Blen.

Having eaten, they made their way to the karaoke bar and sipped Red Horse while they waited for ten, when the action would get under way at the disco. Blen looked disapprovingly at Amor as she swallowed some shabu. They then spent three hours in the disco, which was very much less packed than on their last visit. Today was Monday, last time it had been Saturday. 

After an eventful day for Blen, the girls were all in bed by two. This was now an early night.

The following morning, Blen washed the clothes she had borrowed. While checking the pockets of the jeans, she pulled out the sheet of paper with Nick's number on it. For a few seconds she was tempted to put it in her purse, but good sense prevailed. It would only be a temptation and a torment; yesterday had been a one off, she must now put it behind her and live in reality. Going over to the gas ring, where rice was simmering, she burned it.

She heard the news headlines being read on the TV, This is my reality, she thought.

The anchor announced that two bombs had gone off in Mindanao. In a bar in Makilala, adjacent to Blen's home province, a bomb had exploded during a festival killing six people. Elsewhere, another bomb had claimed four victims, though no fatalities. The police did not know if the explosions were related, they could not even guess who was trying to blow up whom. To all intents and purposes, these were random acts of terrorism, spreading fear among all factions.

Just escape from that world, Blen told herself. That will be enough. Do not be ambitious. Over-ambition only brings unhappiness.

Late in the morning, some good news arrived. A motor cycle drew up outside, and the rider called out. It was the postman. He brought a response to Precious's postcard. The letter from Precious's mother contained the number of Rozel's store.

"We can speak soon, with our families," said Precious, "we can try tomorrow." 

The girls celebrated and hugged one another. 

That evening, Blen re-entered Talent Spot with the others and effortlessly fell back into bar girl mode. It was a long, slow Tuesday evening, with periods of sluggishness punctuated by bursts of enthusiastic activity when customers entered. Blen's thoughts alternated between bittersweet recollections of yesterday, and joyful anticipation of tomorrow when she would speak with Jesusa.

The following morning, the girls from Desbilla rose early - early for their new life. At nine, they gathered in the sala, and Precious called Rozel's store. Rozel answered, and after a brief exchange of greetings and news, a procedure for communication was worked out. Rozel would take the girls' numbers, and messages would be passed to the girls' families that the girls wished to talk with them. When they came to the store, they would give a missed call to the girl's cell phone, that is, they would call, and when the cell phone rang, immediately hang up, the girl would then call back to Rozel's number. Rozel would charge for the use of her phone, but now the families had the money to pay. 

Finally, Rozel told the girls to wait, and news that they wished to speak with their families, would be passed on.

Precious helped her friends enter Rozel's number in their contact lists, then they returned to bed, having ensured that their phones were charged and not muted.

Now, all the girls had cell phones given them by customers who wished to keep in touch. As yet, they had few numbers in their contact lists. The boyfriends had entered their own numbers in their home countries. The housemates had exchanged numbers. Some had a few other numbers, workmates and one or two customers. Some customers had given their numbers, and suggested that they contact them after work, for a sneak-out. These customers had, by and large, not impressed the girls, who were looking for open-handed and eligible customers who wanted the full girlfriend experience - the type of customers who offered the prospect of a more permanent relationship. Those soliciting sneak-outs were Cheap Charlies, seeking a quickie for the price of a tip, before kicking the girls back into the street again. The Cheap Charlies were not held in high regard, and were kept in reserve for emergencies - when the rent was due - or the girls were broke.

During the day, there were several false alarms. Each time a phone rang, the girls would gather around expectantly. 

First, at about midday, Precious's phone rang. It was Klaus. He was lying in bed and thinking of her. He missed her. He wished she was there with him. She missed him back. She wished she was there with him. Yes, business was slow. No, she had not been bar-fined. No, she had no money. Yes, she could go back to the province if he sent her some money. Yes, she had a bank account. Yes, these were the particulars. She thanked him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she was waiting for him. Yes, she looked forward to seeing him at Christmas.

"He will send me money," said Precious triumphantly as soon as she hung up, "he does not like me to go bar-fine. He will pay it in my bank."

"Congratulations," said Girlie, "First Blen has a customer who will pay for her not to be fucked; now you have a customer who will pay for you not to be fucked. Maybe we all will need a bank account, and we just take customers who like to pay us not to be fucked."




Bar Girl Ch. 10



"That is a good plan," said Amor. "If a guy pay to fuck you, you can only fuck one guy at a time. But, if he will pay you not to fuck, you can, not fuck, with many at the same time, and they will all pay you."

The girls laughed.

"I start my collection, I have two guys who will pay me not to fuck," said Precious.

"Me also, I have two, and I am still a virgin," sighed Blen, whose defloration had been reserved by Bruno and Hu-Fan.

An hour later, Amor's phone rang. It was Danny. He was lying in bed, and thinking of her. He missed her. He wished she was there with him. She missed him back. She wished she was there with him. Yes, business was slow. Yes, she had been bar-fined. No, she did not like the customer. Yes, she loved only him. Yes, the customer fucked her. Yes, he liked to boom-boom her ass. Yes, she wished it was Danny. Yes, she thought of him when she was being fucked. Yes, she would promise to tell him about all her customers. Yes, she would stay, and wait him in Angeles if he sent her some money. Yes, he could send it door to door. Yes, these were the particulars. She thanked him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she was waiting for him. Yes, she looked forward to seeing him at Christmas.

"He will send me money," said Amor triumphantly as soon as she hung up "and he likes if I will fuck around. He will send it here to the lady-house."

"Which is best, a guy who will pay you to fuck around, or a guy who will pay you not to fuck around?" asked Girlie.

"I enjoy to fuck around," said Amor.

"I like not to fuck around," said Precious.

"I do not know. I am still a virgin," said Blen.

The afternoon passed quietly. At five, Precious's phone rang, just twice, and stopped. The other girls hurried over as she checked the caller ID.

"It is Rozel," she said, and pressed the green button.

Precious's mother took the call. News was exchanged. Everyone was well in Desbilla. The remittances had been received. Her sisters and brothers were enrolled in school. They had a new gas ring to cook with. Shoes had been bought. Aunty Cor had seen the doctor, and had medicine. Her father and siblings were there. She could speak with them. She spoke to several members of her family. 

However, there were no members of families other than hers at Rozel's. They had heard that remittances had been received. As far as they knew, all was well with the other families. Finally, the call concluded.

Precious repeated her news back to the others who became even more eager to speak with their own families.

About an hour later, Blen's phone rang. She snatched it up, and waited for it to stop ringing. It rang twice - three times - four times - it did not stop ringing. She looked closely. It was Bruno. She reluctantly pressed the green button, and held the cell phone to her ear. "Hello," she said flatly.

"Hello Blen. It's nice to hear your voice again. How are you today?" 

"I am fine," Blen remained unenthusiastic.

"Good. I've been making plans. I want to buy some clothes for you. I need your measurements."

"OK. Just send me money, and I can buy the clothes."

He laughed. "Nice try, but I'm not stupid enough to send money to a girl. Anyway, the clothes I am buying are boudoir clothes, you cannot buy them there. I must bring them with me."

"What is boudoir clothes?" asked Blen.

"They are sexy clothes, to wear in the bedroom. I know just how I want you to dress when I deflower you, and I shall bring the clothes with me, for our wedding."

"Before, you said you like me to bleed in my wedding dress."

"I have been making detailed plans. I want you to bleed on your wedding dress, but I want you dressed as my whore-goddess when I deflower you. I will lay you on your wedding dress, and take your cherry there," Bruno explained.

"Maybe you will not win my cherry." Blen, hoped to needle him

"Blen. You do not know me. I am a man who gets what he wants. I always have. Now I want you. I shall have you. I have made plans, and nothing will stop me. I can buy Mama. I can buy Talent Spot. I can buy Angeles. So, I will buy you, and I will take your cherry, and you will be my whore-goddess, and I will worship you as often, and as long, as I like. Now, what are your measurements?"

"I will text to you." Blen hung up. "Asshole!" she exclaimed immediately, "I will kill him before he can take my cherry."

No sooner had she said this than Precious's phone rang again.

It was Darren. He had just woken. He was lying in bed and thinking of her. He missed her. He wished she was there with him. She missed him back. She wished she was there with him. Yes, business was slow. No, she had not been bar-fined. No, she had no money. Yes, she could go back to the province if he sent her some money. Yes, she had a bank account. Yes, these were the particulars. She thanked him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she was waiting for him. Yes, she looked forward to seeing him at Christmas.

"He will send me money," said Precious triumphantly, as soon as she hung up, "he does not like me to go bar-fine. He will pay it in my bank."

Time came to go to work, and they made their way through the damping rain, towards Talent Spot. Just as they had crossed MacArthur Highway, they could see a police vehicle parked on the forecourt. 

"It is the officer we give our statement," said Amor.

"They did not speak with us yet, we will ask what has happen," suggested Blen.

They walked over to the vehicle, where two officers sat slumped out of the weather.

"Hello. Do you remember us?" she asked, "We are the witness, when the lady is killed."

The officer stirred, sat upright and leaned into the window. "Yes I remember you. Thank you for your help."

"What has happen?" asked Blen, "No one ask for our story."

"The driver has disappear," she was told. "There was no complaint, so when he is sober we release him."

"He kill the lady and there is no complaint?" Blen was shocked.

"Next day, her husband come to make a compliant, but the driver is already release," said the officer, "When we go to arrest him, he has disappear. We cannot trace him yet."

"But why do you let him go if he kill the lady?" insisted Blen.

The officer shrugged. "It is the Major in charge that release him. That is the rule, if there is no complaint."

The girls expressed their horror to the unconcerned policemen. 

As they moved away, Girlie said in disgust, "That guy just pay the Major to let him go. They have a body, they have a witness, why do they need a complaint? It is just a bribe."

An hour later, as Blen sat on a bench seat waiting for customers, a waitress came up and told her that her phone had rung. She went out to the back, and checked to find she had received a missed call from Rozel. She called back, and her stepfather answered, but against the loud music she could not understand what he said, even with the phone pressed tight against her ear. It was no better when she went into the CR, so she made her way into Fields, and walked a few yards. The background music reduced considerably, and a conversation began, but even in Fields, words and sentences were obliterated as jeepneys or trikes passed noisily by.

Her stepfather was very happy, and everyone was well - there was a problem - but every time he tried to explain it a noisy vehicle would pass. It was to do with Jesusa, with her education. Blen asked to speak to Jesusa and they exchanged sisterly delight at speaking together once again. Blen kept moving up and down Fields, seeking a quiet spot, but there was none. Finally, she was forced to affirm her love for her sister, and ask her to call back next day, before five-pm. They exchanged phone kisses. Blen hung up, then returned in frustration to Talent Spot.

On Thursday afternoon, from three, Blen looked at her phone and fiddled repeatedly, while she watched the TV. A phone rang, but it was not Blen's. Amor received a missed call from Rozel, called back, and chatted with animation for half an hour. Before she hung up, she asked if Jesusa, or any of Blen's family, were at Rozel's. None were.

At ten to five, Blen's phone rang twice, then stopped. She checked the caller ID; it was Rozel. Running up to the bedroom, she closed the door, and rang back to hear Jesusa answer.

"Can you hear me?" Blen shouted into the phone.

"Yes, but do not shout," said Jesusa, in a perfectly audible voice.

"I am missing you so much, and all the family also," said Blen, "Is everybody fine?"

"We are all fine; thank you for your remittance."

"I am happy to send. And I am still a cherry girl." Blen knew this would intrigue Jesusa.

"How do you send so much, if you are a cherry?" 

"There are many foreigners who like me. There is one who like to marry with me, he is very rich," boasted Blen, "they like to buy me presents, and give me gifts of money." She first painted a rose tinted picture of her life for her sister, then she bit the bullet. "But last night you say there is a problem. What is your problem?" 

"It is school," replied Jesusa, "I go to enrol in the private school, like you say, but I do not have the budget. It is 5000 one semester and there is three uniforms I must have, and my books. That is OK. But also, because I miss my school before, there is another 5000 for remedials. I must have an extra tutor to keep with the class. And there is our sister and brothers. There is no fee for them to go to school. If I go in the barangay school, there is enough, but not if I go in the private school."

"Oooohh. How much do you need?" asked Blen.

"Sorreee. Daddy says 10,000 pesos," Jesusa told her.

Blen recalled that she had 10,500 pesos left after paying her credit on payday. She had remitted 5000 and given 2000 to Amor to remit, leaving her about 3000 to last her to the next payday. There would be tips, but since the raids, Mama-san had prohibited nudity and body shots, and nudity and body shots were what she was tipped for, so her tips had dried up. It would be possible to live on 500p and send 2500, she reckoned, but 2500 is no good when 10,000 is needed.

"When do you need the money?" 

"I must complete the remedial by 5 November. It is the next term. Else, I cannot enrol this year. So I must start the remedial now, it is only one month." 

Blen was flustered. She did not expect this. She had sent 11,000 pesos and it was not enough. 

"Call me tomorrow, I must think. I will try. I love you Jesusa," she told her sister.

Once more, the cares of the world weighed heavily on her shoulders. She had 2,500 pesos, but where could she get another 7,500 by tomorrow? The possibility of having to borrow 7,500 from Mama, at 12 ½ % a month, unnerved her. With interest, she would immediately owe about 8,500. Her burden of debt-bondage had already turned her virginity into a curse, and she did not wish to feel that desperation to be free of debt, ever again.

Her next salary would be about 11,000 pesos, because Bruno had bar-fined her, but that was not due for two weeks, and that would be too late. She could repay the 8,500p needed from her next salary if she borrowed from Mama, but she would then have only 2,500. Not enough to send a next remittance. Supporting her family was going to be much more expensive than she had ever imagined, but she was determined that Jesusa would go to the private school.

At the first chance, she raised the matter with Mama. "Mama, is it possible I have an advance on my next salary?"

"Of course Blen, I will advance you against your credit. How much do you want?"

"Bruno has pay my advance bar-fine. You have his money; will it need to be on credit?" 

"That is not how it work Blen. If Bruno call tomorrow, he can cancel your bar-fine, and I will have to give back his unused days. I cannot give you his money in advance, but I will happily lend to you my money. You can borrow as much as you like. When he marry with you, Bruno will pay off all your credit."

"I do not want to marry Bruno. He want to dress me up as a whore-goddess, and lay me on my wedding dress, and deflower me." 

"Blen, you really are a cherry girl. That sound so sweet. What do you expect on your wedding night? It is suppose to be special."

"Then, is there any earning opportunity?" asked Blen.

Mama paused. "For 10,000 pesos there is always an opportunity. But you are still a cherry girl, and you will not need earning opportunities, if you marry Bruno."

"No. I will not marry Bruno," Blen insisted.

"Then we can talk again, when he has take your cherry. But if you do not enjoy Bruno's romantic foolishness, you will not enjoy this opportunity for 10,000 peso."

"What is it that can be worse than Bruno?" 

"When you are ready, if you are ready, I will tell you," said Mama.

Blen sat brooding on the bench seats. She was so absorbed that some customers came and went, and she never saw them, let alone offered them a tequila. Amor came and joined her between sets. 

"I am sorry. If you did not give me, you would have no problem," she said to Blen. "I will give you back. I can borrow from Mama."

"It is a gift, I told you. You do not need to give me back. And do not borrow from Mama. You will have the same debt that you start with." 

"Maybe there is an earning opportunity then," said Amor.

"Only one that is worse than Bruno, I ask with Mama already."

"What is it?" Amor was interested.

"She will not tell, but she say that next to it, being rape by Bruno is nice." 

"Maybe I will like it. I like Bruno to rape with me."

"How could I know, I am just a cherry girl," said Blen, adding, "Tomorrow I will sell my watch."

"How much is it?" asked Amor.

"I do not know, but I must sell it."

Late in the evening, Jordan came into Talent Spot. Blen approached him, and asked if he would like a shooter.

"Sure, and have one yourself, sit down," he said.

Blen sat up with him.

"Your shoot came out great. Thank you for that," Jordan told Blen. "We've emailed some shots to Amor's boyfriend." He looked around. "I don't see her."

"She will be in the back. Shall I call her?" 

"Not just yet. I want a word with you. Would you like to do some more work?"

"Yes, I need an earning opportunity, Siir," said Blen eagerly. 

"Good. I understand you give a great blow-job. Have you ever done a blow-bang?"

"What is that, Siir?" 

"It's a blow-job, but for more than one customer," explained Jordan. 

"No Siir, I have never done that."

"That's what we'd like you to do. We have a group of guys and you blow them off. We make a video and you get paid."

"How much is that, Siir?" asked Blen quickly.

"If we say, 1000p for each guy, and 5000p for the video, for ten guys, that would be 15,000 pesos. How does that sound?" 

Blen clasped her hands in gratitude for this fortuitous solution to her money problems, attributing it to divine providence. "Oh ... Thank you Lord ... OK ... that is good ... but please, Siir, it must be tomorrow." 

"WOW! That's short notice. Why the rush?" 

"I need my money now, Siir. You must give me the money tomorrow," pressed Blen.

Jordan was used to the girls' constant requirement for money to meet personal and family needs, and was willing to be flexible.

"I'll see what I can do. Give me your number, and I'll call in the morning. It's short notice to round up ten guys, but I'll do what I can, and call you. If I can arrange it, Ferdinand will pick you up." 

Blen leaned towards him and spoke confidentially. "Thank you, Siir, but do not tell Mama. I am not allowed to give blow-jobs because a customer has pay my bar-fine. It is a secret OK. Do not tell anyone."

"It'll be our little secret, don't worry," Jordan assured her.

Amor wandered out from the rear, and seeing Blen sitting with Jordan, hurried over.

"Thank you so much for the photos, Sir. Danny is very happy," she gushed.

"They came out very well. We only sent them a couple of hours ago. I'm glad Danny likes them. Did he call already to tell you?"

"I called to him and he telled to me. He will email to me also." Amor said.

They had a round of ladies drinks, and Jordan left. Amor's mood had been boosted by her talk with Danny, and Blen's conversation had lifted a weight from her own shoulders. She returned to her old self, and confidently pitched the few customers who passed through in the early hours.

The following morning, Blen's phone rang at half-eight, waking the whole room before she had answered it. She slipped downstairs. It was Jordan. Ferdinand was on his way. 

"Tell him to wait at MacArthur. If he text to me, I will come up," said Blen.

She went upstairs and took some clothes from her locker. 

Amor got up, and came down with her. "You are up early today, Blen." 

"Yes, I am not tired. You are up early also."

"Me, I am not tired, also," responded Amor, who went into the shower.

Blen thought she had better take this opportunity to leave the house. She did not want to explain, or make excuses to Amor. As she approached MacArthur Ferdinand was turning off, and she flagged him. 

He pulled up adjacent to her, got out, and greeted her. "Good morning Miss Blen. It's nice to see you again."

"Good morning, Ferdinand," said Blen, grandly, as she mounted the vehicle.

Once more, she travelled in luxury down MacArthur to Marisol, and on to the three-storied house. Ferdinand opened her door, and she disembarked. Jordan opened the front door to greet her, and introduced her once more to his crew. Giselle, Candice, Jerome, Arnel and Rey were all there. Jerome stood behind Jordan, to his right, with a video-cam, and videoed her entry and welcome. The bakla hugged and kissed her and Jordan invited Blen to go with them to the bedroom to make up. Blen made her way upstairs, and her retinue followed. Arnel brought a tray of drinks, glasses, mixers and an ice bowl. 

He poured Blen a strong vodka mixer, and offered it to her. "Your drink Miss Blen." 

"A few shots always help to relax," advised Giselle.

"Do you remember your exercises?" asked Candice.

"I remember."

"It's much the same as last time, a little exercise, a hot and cold shower, and a rub down, then Giselle will do your make up."

"And then, lots of lovely cocks, you lucky girl," added Giselle.

"All to yourself, do you not want to share with me?" teased Candice. 

"There is always enough cocks to share," said Blen.

"Oh my. You are a lucky cherry girl," said Candice, "We had better start with your exercise."

When Blen stripped to enter the shower, Candice remarked, "Oh dear, I will need to tidy up your pubes, just sit over here."

Blen sat in a plastic armchair, and Candice arranged her, then, expertly shaved her pubic area smooth. Blen took her shower and rubbed down. By the time she sat for her makeup, she was on her fourth stiff drink, and had a glow on. 

Jerome hovered in the background, recording. Downstairs, the doorbell rang periodically. A low-pitched babble, which gradually grew more animated, came from below, and ripples of deep laughter broke out more and more frequently. In the hiatus, Blen managed another two drinks, and she felt the onset of that feeling of dis-inhibition and exhibitionism which overtook her so quickly when she went on stage in Talent Spot. 

Giselle helped her into a costume, and she stood before the mirror. "This costume is by request. It is classic, and it will be good for today," she said.

Blen thought the look very sophisticated. It was the costume she had worn first for the photo-shoot, with a few additions. Attired all in black, Giselle had put her hair up, and pinned it into a veiled, miniature top hat. It was the same black corset, with yellow piping, but Giselle had laced her until she achieved a wasp waist. Blen's bowels were squeezed up and down, shaping her, making her torso and hips flare seductively. Suspenders from the corset held classic, black stockings, and she wore high-heeled, granny-boots on her feet. Blen posed before the mirror and admired her reflection, thinking she looked very beautiful, and feeling very pleased with the image Giselle had created for her.




Bar Girl Ch. 10



"I like it. Who request it?"

"It is the person who orders the video," said Giselle, "he liked the look in your photos."

"Is he from the website?" 

"Not Jordan's website. This customer has many websites. He is a millionaire. He is a porn baron. Jordan provide some videos to him."

"And, will anyone see my video?" 

"Anyone who can pay. It is adults only. It is in California." 

"I would like to go to California," said Blen, "even in a video."

Blen was still admiring herself when Jordan came in.

"We have ten," he called, "It was touch and go but we made it. We've been pulling guys out of bed and out of bars this morning, but we've done it. All your co-stars are here.

"And Blen. What can I say? As beautiful as ever. More beautiful than ever. Neither does you justice. You're a master piece."

It was transparent flattery, but to Blen it rang true, and she thrilled to those words.

Jordan explained the procedure. "To put it very simply, there are ten nice guys downstairs, and you are going to suck all their pricks 'til they come. It'll be a lot of fun, but we're being paid, so it can't just be fun. We've got to do it with style. We'll start shooting the main event soon. The first shot will be Blen coming out of the bedroom door. Turn left, and you will see Jerome at the top of the stairs filming you. Candice will be beside or behind him. Just watch her. You walk out of the door, turn to the stairs, stop and pause. Watch Candice and follow her poses. When she beckons, walk slowly toward the stairs, rock your hips, you'll see Candice walking backwards doing it. Come slowly down the stairs, you're still watching Candice remember. When she puts her hand up, stop. You'll be half way down the stairs. Then look round at all the guys, who'll be stood in an arc around the room. Look at them all, smile, wave and say Hi.

"I'll come over and greet you. I'll call you Zara, that can be your name for today. I'll hold out my hand, and you take it, and I'll take you from there, just do what I tell you. I'll introduce you to the guys, they'll come and shake hands, and kiss. Then I take you to the sofa and I'll interview you. Just answer my questions. I'll need to show your cherry, but that will take only a few moments, then you'll kneel on a rug and do what comes naturally. All these guys have done it before, they know what to do, and they will walk you through it. After twenty or thirty minutes, we do the nut shots. Just open wide and the guys will jack off over your face and tits. When the last guy has nutted, rub the jism over your face and tits and stand up and I'll chat with you. All Clear?"

"All Clear, Siir," said Blen.

"We'll just rehearse with a walk through, then, we should be ready to roll," said Jordan.

They did a walk through, and sorted out the wrinkles.

When all was set, Blen readied herself. She told herself that all she had to do was imitate Candice until she was half way down the staircase, and then just do as she was told. She went through the tension exercises Candice had taught her, and felt herself float erect. 

"Action," called Jordan.

Blen stepped through the bedroom door, and turned to the staircase, paused and smiled. A very bright light shone from a boom on the ceiling of the living room. She looked directly at Candice, who struck a series of poses, which she copied. When Candice beckoned, she kept her gaze straight and level, with her back straight and chin up, and slowly swang leg round past leg, rocking her hips, and moved slowly forward. Jerome began to retreat down the stairs, and she followed. As she stepped down, applause rippled round the room. She was aware that the room was crowded, but she kept her eyes on the camera until Candice raised her hand. She paused and looked around.

A cross-section of mankind was arrayed before her, in nothing but boxer shorts with 10 2 BEAT printed on them. The age range was from mid-twenties to mid-sixties - longhaired, shorthaired, and bald - hairy, and shaven slick - mostly white, but a couple of black guys, and an Asian. Some of the faces she recognised. Two, she had blown off in the booth. She looked from one to the other, and greeted them. Their faces beamed back. They liked what they saw.

Jordan stepped forward. Raised his hand, and she took it.

"Hi, Miss Zara. Welcome to Ten to Beat. Now tell me why you're here today?" 

"I am here for the video, and to blow-job your friends," said Blen.

"What do you think of this bunch of bums then; they're the best we could get on short notice?" 

"They look nice guys."

"Do you think you will enjoy blowing them off?"

"Always," responded Blen.

"Have you met any of them before?" asked Jordan.

"Two only." 

"I'll ask you about that in just a minute. First let me introduce you, just step down here."

He led her to the bottom of the stairs, and the arc formed into a queue, and Jordan introduced them one by one. 

"This is Hank, I wonder where his wife thinks he is this morning."

"Hi Zara."

"Hi Hank."

They shook hands, and bent forward and kissed one another on the cheek.

After the ten had been introduced, Jordan said, "Now, before we begin, come and have a chat, and tell the guys a little bit about yourself. They're a bit shy about putting their cocks in the mouths of strange girls."

"I do not bite," said Blen.

Jordan led her to the sofa, and sat her down beside him. "I know that. A couple of the guys have told me. You've blown off a couple of them before, is that right?" 

"Correct." 

"So how many guys do you think you have blown off, now?" 

"Maybe seventy, now." 

"And what's your birth date?" said Jordan.

"17 July 1988," Blen told him.

"So you're 18. 18 years and 3 months. Is that right?"

"Correct."

"And, this is an interesting rumour I've heard. Are you a cherry girl?"

"Yes I am a cherry still."

"For the record, I'd just like to check that. Can I move you just a little ... just your leg over here ... lay back ... I'm just going to part your lovely lips ...Yes ... No doubt about it ... you're a virgin ... Get the camera in here."

Jerome came close and lingered on her.

"Fill the screen ... get as close up as you can."

"Let's give our end users a good long look at this," said Jordan.

He lifted Blen and sat her down in his lap, tilted her backwards, and held her legs wide.

"Now spread your pussy for the camera." 

As she opened her pussy Blen giggled. "You make me shy."

"You're not ashamed of your cherry are you?" he asked.

"No," she giggled.

"Well, show the paying customer."

Blen sheepishly stretched her lips.

"Spread it wide Zara, our customers like to see the pink."

Blen giggled, and stretched her pussy as wide open as she could. "I cannot open no more."

"OK. Hold That."

Under the intense video light, her white hymen contrasted visibly with her deep pink labia.

"The big question. Why is a beautiful girl like you a cherry?" 

"I do not meet the right guy yet," said Blen, giggling.

"Are you saving yourself 'till you're married?" Jordan asked.

"I like a husband."

"So you've blown seventy guys but you've not yet met Mr Right?" 

"Correct," said Blen.

"Well, maybe the old adage is true; you have to blow a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Anyway, you may get lucky tonight. We have another ten frogs for you to blow, so good luck, maybe one will be your Mr Right. You guys come close and look at this. This is the prize, all you have to do is turn into a handsome prince when Zara sucks your dick, and this cherry will be all yours."

Jordan let go of Blen's legs and lifted her onto her feet.

"Come over here, and kneel on this rug ... Are you comfortable?"

Blen indicated that she was. 

"Then let's get this show on the road. It's Miss Zara and you have ten to Beat. Who's going to be first? Just put your 1000p on the table and show your cock to Miss Zara."

The cocks all moved forward together, throwing notes onto the table.

"Everybody gets a turn," called Jordan, "can we just have two or three at a time."

Blen took hold of the first two penises offered, pulled one forward, looked up into the guy's eyes, and started to lick from his balls up his cock. She could smell and taste the perfumed soap and deodorant. He stiffened further. She turned and pulled the other guy to her and did the same, while still working the first guy with her hand. She then turned back and flicked her tongue on the silky bell end of the first guy's dick, then took it into her mouth and sucked the taut rubbery member. As her co-stars rotated through, she compared their penises, their feel in the hand, their firmness, their colour, their shape, their size, their taste and their smell. She weighed their testicles, and noted their location, high strung or low hung, taut or baggy, hairy or sparsely covered. She matched the genitals to the eyes, to the grunty breathing, to the arterial pulses coming from their hearts. 

Each dick had its own personality, its own charm. Some were hard and unyielding, some were worn and exhausted and excited her sympathy, some curved with a crazy sense of humour, some were thick and solid, and full of gravitas, and some flared at the end like the ears of a charging elephant. The thing this ragbag assortment had in common, and the reason why she loved them all, was that they saw her beauty and desired her. Every one came to her stiff with admiration. None came indifferent, none required encouragement. 

She was still engrossed in her labour when Jordan interrupted.

"Well, this is the best event I've hosted. It's been such a good day I'm going to treat myself and my staff, without whom this event would not have been possible. Zara, tonight I'm putting another 6000 pesos on the table, and treating the crew. Now, if you guys stand back and get set to finish, I'll kick off for the crew."

Jordan stepped forward and presented his penis and Arnel joined him. Jordan was big and heavy and straight, and pulsed slowly. Arnel was smaller and thinner, and twitched eagerly upwards. Rey replaced Jordan. He was similar to Arnel, but curved to the side. Jerome stepped in, relieved from the camera by Jordan. He was taut in dick and balls, high strung and in a hurry. Blen gripped him firmly round the base of his penis until he regained control. Last, came the bakla. Blen did not know what to expect. Did bakla desire her? They turned out rather small and thin, but firm as rods. And when she looked into their eyes, they beamed admiration.

Voices in the background indicated that her co-stars were coming to a climax. The bakla withdrew, and others hurried forward. Blen sat up, opened her mouth and leaned back. One by one, they came up and ejaculated on her. Some on her face, some on her breasts, some jetted into her hair. Some oozed thickly onto her cheeks. Finally, the bakla jetted thinly, onto her chin.

"Would you stand up Zara," said Jordan.

Blen stood. As she straightened up, a small avalanche of sperm slid from her forehead, down her face and dripped from her chin onto her breasts. As the slather of cum carried on down to her stomach, the sperm that had been deposited on her tits, dripped from the tips of her nipples. Blen faced the camera, and smeared sperm evenly over her face, then did the same to her breasts. In the video lights she glistened like a glazed bun.

"Wow. That was outstanding. Did you enjoy that Zara?" asked Jordan.

"Yes, I did. I enjoy to blow you," said Blen, smiling into the camera.

"Will you come back, and do a video for us again?" he asked.

"Of course. I want to," said Blen.

"Well, have look on the table." He threw on a further wad of notes onto it as the camera panned towards it. "That's all yours, and you were worth every cent. Thanks for coming, cherry girl Zara, I'm sorry you didn't find your prince today, I'm sorry it wasn't me, but keep trying, and I'm sure you'll blow your Mr Right very soon. Say goodbye to the viewers."

Blen smiled into the camera, and gave a little wave. "Good bye."

The room burst into applause, and Giselle wrapped a bath sheet round her.

"That was great Blen, I'm going to take care of your money, there should be 21,000 here," said Jordan. 

He counted the money, and followed her up the stairs to the bedroom. As she took her heavily soiled costume off, Giselle made to put it in the trash can. 

"Will you throw it away?" asked Blen.

"Yes it is dirty now." 

"Can I keep it? I will clean it."

"What will you use it for?" asked Jordan.

"For my special guy," said Blen.

"OK. And I do want you to do more videos for us, if you'd like that."

"Oh yes, I do like to do more videos, you have saved my sister's education today. Thank you for that. But, who will see my videos?"

"People all over the world will see it," said Jordan.

"How many people?" 

"Hundreds of thousands. In time maybe millions. I think you will be popular." Jordan was optimistic for her.

"Will I be a star?" 

"Yes, a bold star, would you like that?" 

"Yes, a bold star," Blen echoed wistfully.

"Anything is possible," said Jordan.

With her 21,000 pesos in her pocket, Blen climbed back into the SUV. "Please will you take me to the remittance?" she asked Ferdinand.

She was dropped off, said goodbye to Ferdinand, remitted 10,000 to her stepfather and walked home. 

On entering the lady-house, Amor greeted her. "Where have you been, you do not answer your call."

Blen pulled out her phone. "Oh, it is switch off." She switched it back on immediately.

"Come upstairs, I have something to show you," said Amor, and they went up into the bedroom.

Amor closed the door, and pulled a roll of notes out of her pocket. "For you to remit," she declared.

"How much is that?" asked Blen, amazed.

"Ten ... thousand ... pesos." Amor was triumphant.

Blen pulled out her bundle of notes and held it up. "Eleven ... thousand ... pesos ... and I have send my remittance of 10,000 pesos already," she said, carefully.

"But how do you pay?" Now Amor was astonished.

Blen dropped her voice, "Promise you do not tell."

"I promise," agreed Amor.

"I do a video for Jordan, but it is blow-jobs, so Mama must not know." 

"For 21,000 pesos?" Amor sounded sceptical.

"It is sixteen guys. Millions of guys will see my video. They like that I will do more," explained Blen, "But, how do you get your 10,000 pesos, Amor?"

"It is Mamas earning opportunity. I ask her last night. She take me today."

"What is the earning opportunity?" asked Blen suspiciously.

"Come here, it is a secret also." She whispered in Blen's ear. 

Blen's eyes grew round, her jaw dropped and she put her hand over her mouth. She stared at Amor. "I do not think I can do it. Not even for Jesusa."

"I cannot do the blow-job. But you can do the blow-job, it is the same," countered Amor.

"But, do you enjoy it?" 

"I take shabu, so I am wild. I enjoy it with shabu."

"You must not take shabu Amor, think of Danny, what if Danny know you take this opportunity?" 

"He know it. When Mama offer me last night, I telephone to Danny to ask to him. He is excited. He said he like if I do it. He said he will send me money also if I will do it, condition only that I will call to him tonight for phone sex." 

Blen thought a little and asked, "And if he marry with you, and take you home, and he like you to do it, what then?"

"If he will marry with me, I will do it every day. I do not care," replied Amor.

"I do not know which is worst to marry, Bruno or Danny?" said Blen.

"But you do not love Bruno. I love Danny. It is different," said Amor.

Shortly after, Blen's phone rang twice and stopped. She called back and spoke to Jesusa.

"It is all arrange. Daddy can collect the money tomorrow, and you can enrol."

Blen felt proud that her sister would go to private school and her half-siblings would also receive an education. But, she wondered, how much would it cost to see them all achieve what they were capable of achieving? It might require a very great deal of money.

As they walked to Talent Spot, Amor warned Blen that Mama had picked her up and dropped her off, and the girls told Mama they did not know where Blen was. After they changed, and the other girls were on stage, Mama called Blen, and led her to the changing area.

"Nobody know where you go today. Where do you go?" she demanded.

"I just go walking with a friend."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" 

"No. No boyfriend." 

"You understand you must take care of your cherry until it is sold, yes?" said Mama.

"Of course Mama, I keep my cherry for you," protested Blen.

"Then, just to be sure, take of your brief and sit on the table." 

Blen did as she was bid. 

Mama gently pushed her back, and raised her legs. "Just hold them apart." 

Blen held her legs, and Mama opened her vagina to inspect her hymen.

"It is all still there," said Mama, relieved, "But do not be tempted, Blen. I know you want to boom-boom, and I know there are lots of guys who like to boom-boom with you. If you wait only a few more weeks, you can boom-boom as many as you like. Now you are pay to be a virgin girl, and you earn more than those girls who pray for a bar-fine. Just be patient and we will all make money."

"I understand Mama, I will guard my cherry," said Blen.

Around midnight, Amor's phone rang, and she was called into the back to answer it. She emerged, and headed out into the street with it pressed against her ear, returning after forty minutes to sit with Blen. 

Mama came over, and chided her. "Amor, where have you been for so long, you are suppose to be dancing?" 

"I have talk with Danny. I tell him about today." 

Mama paused. "You must not talk about today. It is best not talked about. Do not even tell Blen. But, what did Danny say when you tell him?" 

"He like me to tell him all about it. I give him phone sex, that is why I am so long."

"Is that his interest?" asked Mama.

"Yes. He is very interest. He like it."

"Well ... tell him that next time he come here, it is not phone sex ... I will make the arrangement ... he can come in my house and it is real for him." 

"Oh yes," said Amor with delight, "he will accept to. I will tell him. " As Mama wandered off, she added to Blen, "Mama enjoy to do it also. It is the interest of her husband."

"Will you do it again?" asked Blen.

"Yes, of course ... for Danny," said Amor.



Bar Girl Ch. 11



Chapter 11. 'Two-Tit Body-shot.'

Remittances from abroad. Hotel on Perimeter Road robbed. Daddy's birthday party. Tequila shooters. More Nick. The first two rules.

The following morning, Blen carefully washed her heavily stained costume. Taking the laces from the corset and the veil from the hat, she laid them flat in the basin to soak in soapy water for a couple of hours. Then, with great care, she rinsed them thoroughly, gently rubbing where necessary. Pulling them into shape, she laid them flat on a towel placed on the bed, to dry. In early afternoon when the sun broke through, she hung them outside and the hot sun completely dried the flimsy material in an hour. Finally, she folded the costume carefully, doused it with her favourite perfume, and placed it in the back of her locker. 

"What will you do with those clothes?" asked Anabel.

"I do not know. I like them. I will keep them for special," Blen told her.

In the afternoon, there was a caller. A smartly dressed man, accompanied by a thick set, inscrutable-faced gentleman, asked for Amor. It was her door-to-door remittance. ID was required, she then counted her remittance, signed for receipt, and showed the others. 

"Danny has send me 10,000 pesos."

The weather relented that Friday, and the sky was clear and starry as the girls went to work. Even as they walked up Field's Avenue a lift in the mood was apparent. Foreigners frequented the streets and the door girls stood outside the bars encouraging them to come in. Street vendors were out in force, insistently peddling their wares. Viagra, porn videos, umbrellas, sunglasses, sandals, knives, bows, cigarettes and chewing gum were popular offerings. Other goods and services were either on offer, or could be obtained on request. An early foretaste of high season was in the air, and the girls burst into Talent Spot with high-hopes of bar-fines. Several clusters of customers already sat in the bar.

Daddy had picked up the vibe. He walked back and forth in the changing room, encouraging the girls. "It looks like it'll be a good Friday night. Smile at the customers, make them feel welcome. If you land a bar-fine tonight, you may well be set up 'till Monday. It'll be a good weekends work for you. Be good girls and fill my till, fill my till." 

Mama approached Girlie. "You can start to use the booth again. But be discrete. I will place two waitresses to warn you, just in case there is trouble. No blow-job signs, but you can approach westerners at their tables. Just whisper. Do not approach Asians. If there are Japanese, I will speak with them."

She then reminded all the girls that there was to be no nudity or lewdness in the bar. The word bar-fine was not to be used and no offers to provide sexual services were to be shouted from the stage. Any offending girl would be sent home, without pay.

The evening was orderly and busy. Blen diligently approached every customer and, with a smile, delivered her sales patter. Since there was a party mood, if rather subdued, she made some sales to the more festive customers - but without the offer of body shots, it was a more difficult sale. Several of her customers came in, and she explained that she was not giving blow-jobs for the time being, and instead promoted Girlie's suck n' fuck service. One or two asked for Girlie to be brought to their table. 

In mid-evening, a couple of customers entered. When they were settled and the waitress had bought them their drinks, Blen approached with the offer of inexpensive tequila shots.

"Line us up two each," the fat one told her, "I need a few stiff drinks."

"It has been a hard day, Siir?" enquired Blen, as she prepared the shots.

"We've just come from the police station, been there for hours."

"Have you been arrest?" Blen suspected they had been ripped off.

"No. We've been making statements, for what that's worth. We've been robbed." 

She remembered the statement she had given as witness to the fatal accident, so she knew the worth of a statement. "Is it the snatchers in St Maria, Siir?" 

"No. Not a street robbery. We were robbed in our hotel. Just where we thought we would be safe?" said the fat man. 

"In your hotel. Which is that?" 

"We're at the Amerigo, up Perimeter Road," 

"But it is a big hotel. I know it. It has a guard. How can you be robbed?" 

The fat man took his first shot, then continued, "It was highly organised. There were eight of them. They were in police uniforms and carrying M16 carbines. They walked the guard inside before he realised it was a trick, and disarmed him. Lucky for him. They had a lot of firepower. They locked the doors and herded the staff into a room. They then went from room to room knocking, and brought all the guests into the same room. There were fourteen of us. The first thing they did was demand our cell phones, so we couldn't call for help."

His thin companion said, "Just as well. If the police had turned up while they were there, there would have been a shoot out with automatic weapons. We would have been hostages." 

"I was shitting myself," said the fat man, "I was waiting for the firing to start. They were in no hurry. They took their time and demanded that we empty our pockets. They took us to our rooms, one at a time, to turn out our possessions. They took all our valuables, but left our credit cards and passports, they were smart and didn't want anything traceable, thank God."

"Must have been an hour, hour and a half," added the thin man, "they just left us all locked in the room. We were let out by the late shift staff. By the time the alarm was raised they were long gone."

The fat man continued, "Then the police took us all to the station to make statements ... that was chaos. After all that, they tell us that this gang is known. They're professional robbers working mostly around Manila. They had a description of one of their vehicles, and a partial plate number, which may have been fake, but at least we have a crime report and crime number for our insurance."

"I don't think the local police intend to do much. They were just happy that no one was hurt, and said they will pass the report to the Manila police who are after the gang," added his friend.

"I've still got an adrenaline rush," said the fat man, "I've got a survivor's high. Now I have some cash, I want to party. You're a pretty girl. Can we get a body shot or two?"

"There is a problem tonight, Siir. There is no body shots, because of the police?" Blen told them. 

"Aw heck, I was hoping to have a little fun, to take my mind of this afternoon." 

"It is possible," said Blen leaning forward. "See that girl there." She pointed out Girlie. "She can go with you in the booth in the back. She will do short-time ... a suck n'fuck ... it is five ladies drinks only. Would you like her to sit with you?"

"Sure, bring her over," said the fat man, "she looks cute, I could have fun with her."

Blen waved Girlie over. "This is Girlie. Girlie, these guys like to sit with you." 

They left for home without Precious, who had worked her adhesive charm on another customer. Amor had a quiet evening, deciding against shabu because she might get too wild for Mama if she took it, and lingered inconspicuously at the back of the line-up. Anyway, she had paid off her credit, and still had 13000 pesos in her locker. She felt no need to strive. For the first time since she had arrived in Angeles, she was free of financial worries. 

That morning, when Blen curled up with Amor, both fell into a contented and peaceful sleep.

Over the weekend the weather stayed dry and sunny; the late afternoon rain lasted only an hour or two before the sky cleared. Saturday and Sunday nights were busier than usual for the time of year without bursting into life. Mama-san Joline still languished in jail. The NBI officers were ambiguous in their statements, and the prosecutor decided to leave the matter to be decided by the court. A cloud still hung over Field's Avenue, and the guidelines were, more or less, adhered to. 

On Saturday, Blen received two calls. 

The first was from Bruno, angry that she had not texted her measurements. She, reluctantly, promised again, and with the help of the other girls and a tape measure, sent the required information.

The second was from Jesusa, who confirmed that her father had received the remittance, and all necessary school fees had been paid. She had bought her uniforms today, and would attend her first day at the private school on Monday.

On Monday, the smart gentleman with the menacing friend turned up again at the lady-house, bringing another remittance for Amor.

"Another 10,000 pesos!" she waved the notes for her housemates to see. She confided to Blen, "That is for last Thursday, Danny send me extra." 

"Now you need a bank account, like Precious," suggested Girlie.

"I do. I will open it today." 

Amor, Girlie and Blen, set off down MacArthur Highway in the jeepney, and got off opposite the bank. They crossed the road, and entered. Amor followed the same procedure as precious had, and deposited 20,000 pesos, leaving 10,000 jingling in her pocket. She earmarked 5000 to remit home. They took the jeepney back to Fields.

"What is the time?" asked Girlie.

Blen looked at her watch. It reminded her of Nick. She had tried to put him out of her thoughts, but whenever she sneaked into the shower to masturbate, and the face of the foreigner who ravished her became distinct, it was Nick's face. "It is half-past-three."

"Then we can cook."

They discussed what to eat, and Girlie and Blen went to buy meat and vegetables from the stalls, Amor headed back to Johnnie's Supermarket to buy some sweet luxuries to celebrate her bank account.

A large pot of rice was prepared, together with a selection of fish, pork and chicken dishes to accompany it. All their housemates were invited to join in the meal. Afterwards, Amor passed around boxes of chocolates and other sweets. Never, in Desbilla, had they enjoyed such a feast. Three meat dishes and chocolates. But, with the help of their remittances, the girls knew that their families would eat some meat with their vegetables and rice, as well as buying an education for the children and medicine for their grandparents.

The evening also brought good news. Mama-san Joline had been released. Details filtered in throughout the evening as news was carried back and forth, up and down Fields and Perimeter. Joline had appeared in court and her counsel had moved to dismiss for want of evidence. The girls had retracted their affidavits and he submitted that the agents had entrapped the girls. The judge read the statements from the NBI officers and the girls. She concluded that there was conflicting evidence, so she could not be satisfied that the girls were not entrapped. The officers' evidence could not be admitted, and there was no case to answer. The case was dismissed.

Papa-san Rod and Mama-san Joline were leaving for her province tomorrow and would be married next week. Chez Mama would remain closed for the time being, but would reopen in November. The bar owners and managers were relieved at this news, and almost immediately the guidelines began to be circumvented in small ways, as business-as-usual resumed.

Tomorrow was Daddy's Birthday Party, and banners were hung at the front of the bar advertising free food, cheap drinks, and various entertainments. Every customer was handed a flyer, and girls were despatched into Fields Avenue to walk up and down distributing them.

By Tuesday, the rains had returned again. The morning and early afternoon were fine, but the sky clouded over and the cloud thickened until late afternoon when heavy rain fell for a couple hours, then eased. However, the cloud remained, and fine drops of rain continued to drift down.

Talent Spot's door girls were dressed in party hats, and blew kazoos. Balloons and streamers decked the door, and a large banner, proclaiming Happy Birthday Daddy Don, hung above it. A colourful chalkboard, set up adjacent to the door, listed the evening's offerings: extended happy-hour, free drinks, free food, and competitions for the girls. Inside, a well-practised crew had transformed the bar into party mode. Balloons, streamers, mobiles and lanterns hung from the ceilings. The waitresses all wore party accessories - hats, and badges bearing the legend, Happy Birthday. Arranged on a table were trays of buffet food wrapped in cling film.

It was the freebies that drew in the customers. In order for the evening to be profitable, it was necessary that customers arrived early, stayed late, bought a lot of drinks, and left with a girl. Daddy would put himself about greeting and glad-handing the customers, and striking up an instant familiarity. The freebies would draw the customers in, but it was the personal connection, even if of short duration, which would keep the customers there to celebrate Daddy's Birthday, and Daddy has mastered the necessary skills many years ago. That was step one. But, the customers would not stay if there was nothing else to keep them. After they had had their freebies, there needed to be something more. They had to believe that the experience in Talent Spot would be better than the experience down the road. The extended happy-hour, when they could buy half price drinks, kept them seated longer, and drinking more. Daddy would distribute free drinks personally, confiding in the customers, reinforcing the bond. Once the customers had drunk enough to get a glow-on, a virtuous cycle would set in. They would see the girls through beer goggles, and develop a maudlin attachment to Daddy. They would become dis-inhibited, and anxious to demonstrate their appreciation of their new friend, Daddy, and these beautiful girls. Daddy would casually talk about the girls, and point them out. He would offer to make introductions. The girls would come and sit with the customers. They would be bought ladies drinks. If all went well, they would leave with the customer at the end of the evening.

The bottom line, however, was that the customers were there to have fun with the girls. They came to look at the girls, and choose a partner. That is the reason why the costumes were skimpy, and the dances consisted of simple, but classic, invitations to court. This invitation to look, piques interest, and stimulates a desire to see more, and then, inevitably, to the desire to touch. This suited the customers, and it suited the girls. It did not suit the authorities. So far, and no further, was the rule. Such rules suppress the party spirit, and can turn a promotional event from a profit into a loss.

Mama was relieved that Joline had been discharged, and reviewed the house rules. For the party to succeed, some relaxation was necessary. Through back channels, she had ascertained that no activity was to be expected from the local officials and police, and there was no indication of planned NBI activity. 

When Blen and her friends entered there were a good number of customers present. Daddy stood schmoozing with a group sitting at a table. 

"Haappeee Biiirthdaay Daddeee," the girls chorused, as they approached.

"Hi girls," he greeted them, then turning to the customers said, "This is the night shift, there're some gems here."

As they passed, the girls smiled and waved flirtatiously at the customers, each picking out the guy who interested her most as a focus. These little contacts, these little expressions of interest, were important tools in the bar girls' art of seduction.

Mama called all the late shift girls together. 

"So far, the party is going well. We have happy-hour for another two hours, and you must keep the customers here. That is your job. Joline has been release from jail, so we can relax a little now. If you have a wardrobe accident you will not be sent home. Blen, you can start doing body shots again, and I want you, Amor, to be a shooters girl also, for tonight. We will have a lot of customers, so try and sell a lot of shots. A quarter-of-an-hour before the end of happy-hour ... I will tell you when ... I want you to take of your tops. Keep moving around from table to table. Make sure all the customers see you. Then they will think there is more to come, and the next event is the competitions after ten. Girls, if you are ask for a ladies drink, tell the customer that there are competitions later, let them believe it will be very sexy. Remember you are selling the promise of things to come. Tell them that after midnight there will be dirty dancing, but do not tell them what it is. You must keep them in the bar." 

With this brief, the night shift went to work.

Blen and Amor stood before the mirror and transformed themselves into twin cowgirls, then spread out around the bar to pitch the customers.

The economics of tequila shooters was very simple. Local tequila was very cheap and tasted every bit as bad as the Mexican variety, since the Spanish had shuttled between Mexico and the Philippines for several hundred years bringing their acquired tastes with them. Tequila shots are shot-gunned, the idea being that the alcohol is passed through the mouth before the taste buds can protest, the after-taste is then cloaked by sucking a piece of lemon or lime coated with salt. All the ingredients are very cheap, and it provides a way to get a glow-on very quickly. This practice, of rapidly downing shots of alcohol to suppress social anxiety, is common in the alcohol-drinking world. It is disguised as a social ritual, so no stigma is attached. There are many recipes and many rituals, and it is a common element of teenage parties. 

In the bar, it was the shooters girl who afforded the socially anxious, who wanted to come out of their shell, the opportunity to do so without incurring any stigma. By shot-gunning shooters, not only did they get loaded quickly, they visibly entered into the party spirit, and if they took a body shot, they became the party spirit itself.

Amor had her own way of shedding social anxiety. She downed a couple of 'pick-me-ups' in the CR.

Blen and Amor had the task of facilitating the transition from cold customer, to party animal. They would greet the customers warmly and ask if they were enjoying their evening. After establishing a little rapport, they would describe their offer.

"Are you ready for a shooter yet," Blen would ask, "They are 50 pesos only.

"If you buy four for 150, you can take a body shot on me, also. "If you buy one for me, for 100p, I will take a body shot on you. "If you buy the girl a ladies drink, you can have a body shot with any girl of your choice. Is there a lady that interest you?" She would wave her hand across the stage.

Business was brisk. 'four and a body shot', was her best seller. Undoing her top to expose her breasts, she would line up four glasses and pour the shots, then prepare the lemon and salt. The customer would take his first three shots, licking his salt and biting his slice of lemon, after each. This would shock and heighten his senses. When he was fully alert, Blen would rub the lemon on each of her nipples, and sprinkle them with salt. The customer would take his last shot, and then clamp his mouth on one of Blen's nipples and lick off the salty juice, then move to the other and repeat the process. There was no hurry, he could take as long as he liked.

Blen and Amor kept circulating. As the customers became a little less uptight, they became more receptive, so a second or third visit to their table might prove productive. A shooters girl did, however, require a good head for alcohol. 

For many customers, it was the thought of Blen's lips and tongue working on their nipples which appealed, and they would buy a shot for her. Blen would lift their shirt, sensuously rub the lemon onto their nipples, and salt them. After taking her shot, she then licked this off, with a practised technique. Count to fifteen on each nipple. Suck first, then flick the nipple with stiffened tongue, then big round circles around the nipple with her tongue and repeat, and finally take the nipple gently between the teeth and tug it.




Bar Girl Ch. 11



As the waitresses fanned out to the tables to remind the customers that happy-hour was coming to an end, Mama told Blen and Amor to take off their tops and walk through the bar. The four pert breasts, framed in the horizontal quadrants formed by the bandoleers, drew all eyes, and suggested promise of things to come. The customers all ordered a last round of happy-hour drinks that would take them beyond happy-hour. Once those drinks were consumed, the shooters were the best value in the bar. Between nine and ten, after several customers had bought shots from them, Blen and Amor were quite intoxicated, and their approaches became flirtatious and ribald. The more intoxicated they were, and the more intoxicated the customers were, the more shots were sold. Mama and Daddy were happy. 

Blen approached a table, and now was selling body shots, not drinks.

"Hi guys do you like a body shot ... me or you? Which do you like? You are 100 and I am 150."

A couple of the guys were up for a body shot on her.

"OK. I do you two at once," she offered.

The drinks were poured, and the guys took their first two shots. Blen then prepared her nipples, and they took their third. Each then latched onto a nipple and suckled. There were catcalls from the stage, and a surge in the hum of conversation, as attention was directed to this free show. 

Urged on by the spectators, Blen raised herself on the barstool's footrests so the whole bar could see. She rubbed the lemon on her nipples and sprinkled the salt. The customers then slammed their fourth shots, shot-gunned them down, and immediately each latched onto a nipple. Blen grabbed their heads and held them at her breasts to calls of encouragement from the stage. She looked in the mirror to acknowledge the onlookers who were enjoying this entertainment. As she looked around, she glimpsed a familiar face. The lights were dim, she was drunk and her vision was blurred, as it was when she masturbated. She blinked and effortfully focused, as she also did when she masturbated, and forced the features to emerge.

She saw Nick's face, and for an instant this did not surprise her, but then she realised she was in the bar not the shower. I was not her imagination. It really was Nick. He was sitting on a stool at the stage, staring blankly at her.

Blen's blood ran cold. The effect of the alcohol seemed to dissipate suddenly. She was able to feel shame. She could feel her face flush. It was as if she had bitten the apple offered by the wicked serpent.

Releasing the captive heads, she dropped to the floor and silently holstered her bottles, then turned, and looking down at the floor, walked past Nick, ignoring his call, out into the changing area. Slumping down against the wall, she began to cry into her hands. Other girls gathered around in concern, but she did not respond to them. 

Amor entered. "Blen what is wrong? There is people waiting for you. Your friend is asking for you."

"The guy sitting at the stage?" sobbed Blen.

"Yes, he have come in to see you." 

"How do he know to come here?" asked Blen rhetorically, but Amor answered.

"I tell him to come here. He ask me yesterday in Johnnies."

"You see him in Johnnies?" spat Blen.

"Yes, when I am in Johnnies buying chocolate, he speak to me. He think I am you. I tell him I am your sister, and he asked where he can see you. I tell him you are always here, because you cannot go bar-fine."

"I do not want to see him. I will stay here until he go. Tell him go away." 

"I cannot tell him. It is not our job to send a customer away," answered Amor. "He look a nice guy ... where do you know him from? The video?"

"He is the guy in church." Blen continued to sob.

"He does not look too strange."

"Then you take him. If he like me, he will like you also. I do not want to see him again." 

Amor shrugged, unable to answer Blen's anger, and left. 

After five minutes, she reappeared with Daddy. "What are you playing at, Blen. There's a customer waiting for you, and you send him Amor. What's going on?"

"I do not want to see him," said Blen.

"Amor tells me he's your boyfriend, why don't you want to see him? This is no time for a lovers tiff. Get out and sell drinks."

"I cannot," said Blen.

"Well, let me help you," said Daddy.

He grabbed Blen by the arm, pulled her up, and marched her, feet dragging, into the bar. He stopped in front of Nick, and let go of her arm.

"Here she is," he said to Nick, "she's a little bit ass-holed, the shots have been selling well, but she's OK to give you a good time."

"Thanks," Nick said to Daddy

"No problem." Daddy walked off.

Blen stood in front of Nick, looking at the floor.

"Hello. I'm really glad to have caught up with you."

Blen continued to look at the floor.

"Won't you even look at me," challenged Nick.

Blen raised steely, tear-stained, eyes, and stared belligerently, into his face.

"Blen, you're angry with me. Why?" 

"Why do you come here?" Blen said fiercely.

Nick was conscious that their little drama was becoming part of the entertainment. 

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" 

"Follow me," said Blen, and she walked off, leaving him trailing.

He hurried after her and caught up, just as she reached the booth. She entered and sat down, and as he joined her, a waitress appeared.

The waitress looked at Nick and asked, "Blow-job?"

"No Blow-job," retorted Blen angrily, and she snatched at the curtain, pulling it shut.

"I am just working, Blen," said the waitress, plaintively.

"Why do you come here?" she repeated to Nick

"You didn't call me, I wanted to see you. Your sister told me you worked here."

"Do you think they employ a nurse in Talent Spot? Do you think you find a student nurse in here?" her voice was angry, and sarcastic.

Nick remained even-tempered. "I just wanted to find the lovely girl who kissed me, a week ago, on MacArthur Highway." 

Mama's voice sounded from the other side of the curtain, "Blen, I hope you are not giving a blow-job in there. Remember, you are not to give the blow-job until Bruno return."

"No Mama, I remember, no blow-job," said Blen, pointedly.

"You see," she addressed Nick, "that girl who kiss you is a liar, she do not exist."

"Let's look into that a bit," said Nick.

"Who was the girl who bought the candles and knelt down to pray? Was that you?

"Who was the girl that sat in prayer through that dreary Mass? Was that you?

"Who was the girl that put 1000 pesos in the charity box? Was that you?

"Who was the girl who went out of her way to help a stranger? Was that you?

"Who was the girl with the dazzling smile who listened to me drone on about nothing in particular? Was that you?

"Who was the girl who kissed me on MacArthur highway? Was that you?

"Because, that's the girl I've come here to see and that girl IS you." 

"I am not a student nurse, I do not have a generous father," asserted Blen.

"So, who's 1000 pesos did you put in the Charity Box?" 

"That was mine ... three blow-jobs only," said Blen, contemptuously.

"You're one up on me then," said Nick. "You remember my 1000 peso note"

"Of course." 

"Since you were turned the other way, I put it back in my pocket," said Nick.

Blen was horrified. She could hardly speak the words. Her opinion of his moral superiority evaporated. 

"You put the money in your pocket? You are rich. You have everything, and you trick me so I think you are a nice guy. You do not care about the poor. Why does a guy like you come in church?"

"Because I follow pretty girls in the street, and if they go into church, I go into church." 

Blen's opinion of Nick plummeted still lower.

"You follow young girls like your daughter in the street, and try and pick her up in church. Are you a pervert?"

"No. I'm just an ordinary Joe, like the two who were hanging off you tits, earlier. No better, but no worse."

"And, will you like to hang off my tits also?" 

"Yes I would," said Nick calmly, "Give me four."

"I will get my things." Blen was defiant. She sprang to the floor, turned in a flounce, and strode off.

Returning with the essentials, she banged the four glasses down on the table, sat and pulled the curtain, and poured the shooters. Nick took his shots.

After the first, he coughed.

After the second, his face flushed.

After the third, he looked at Blen through blood shot eyes. 

She glared menacingly back for a few seconds, then picked up the lemon. Nick caught her hand and took it from her. He rubbed it on her lips, and then applied salt. Blen sat motionless. He threw back his shot, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, and held the kiss. When he leaned back, Blen continued to stare at him, now through soft, damp eyes.

"To clear the air, there are two more lies I told you," said Nick.

"Yes?" said Blen.

"Oral sex does not repel me."

"I forgive you," said Blen.

"And I did put that 1000 peso note in the Charity Box."

Blen slid onto his lap and threw her arms around him.

"I am so glad you are a nice guy." 

They embraced in silence for several minutes.

"Can we meet somewhere and talk?" asked Nick.

"Can we go in McDonalds again?" 

"Two- o'clock tomorrow?" suggested Nick.

"Maybe two, maybe two-thirty, just wait me."

"You've got your watch."

"Just wait me next time," said Blen.

"I'll leave you to it for now, but I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," said Nick.

He paid his tab, and left as the banana eating competition got under way.

Blen, psychologically concussed by the evening's events, floated around with a distracted air until a few shots dulled her senses, and she reverted once more to a party girl. She could have been bar-fined five times over if she had not been a cherry. The evening was a success, and she walked unsteadily home by herself, all her roommates were bar-fined. 

Before she slept, she lay alone on the bed, and fantasising about Nick, employed Girlie's vibrator to bring herself to successive orgasms, until she subsided, exhausted, onto the mattress.

On Wednesday morning, when she came down into the sala, it was like entering a ghost ship. There were signs of occupation, but no one was there. Blen wanted to talk, but there was no one to talk to. She wanted to talk about Nick. She wanted to ask about Nick, and to tell everyone how wonderful he was. That was all she had to say, but she wanted to say it a lot. Her head was a little hazy, and her memory patchy, so she wondered how much had really happened, and how much she had imagined.

Blen busied herself with routine chores, and checked her watch frequently. Eventually, two girls emerged from the front bedroom. They were menstruating, so had missed out on the bar-fine rush. They remembered Blen taking two body shots at once, and they remembered her giving a customer a hard time by the stage. But, customers were customers. It was difficult to tell which was more wonderful than the other. Blen told them anyway. They listened with good humour, having heard it many times before.

Before she left at one-thirty, one or two more girls returned with stories of disappointing customers who just wanted to fuck them, tip them, say thank you, and goodbye. The others appeared to have succeeded in being retained as companions.

When she arrived at McDonalds, at two-o'clock prompt, Nick was waiting. He greeted her with her with a peck on the cheek. She wanted to hug him, and kiss him, but McDonalds was not the place. They sat, and agreed their orders, which Nick went to buy. Blen had a large coffee. She needed to chase away the after effects of the previous night. They exchanged smiles, and ate, but neither could think of a way to open the conversation that they needed to have. Eventually Blen bit the bullet.

"So, what is your plan for me?" 

"I want to get to know you better, that's my plan today. See where we go from there. One step at a time, and see where that leads," said Nick.

"Do you think you can marry with me? If it is, No, say me now. I am a simple girl from the province. Do not play with my heart."

"We've met just three times ... four now ... so I can only tell you what I want for tomorrow, for next week. But I want to see you every day. I think I would like to see you every day, for a long time."

"Will you marry a bar-girl?" Blen asked.

"That's not a problem. When I look at you, I see the girl I met in church. I don't care much for virgins anyway. I prefer my girls experienced, less to teach them."

"Oh ... So sorry, I am a cherry girl. You will have to teach me."

Nick sat up, startled. 

"But ... last night ... you didn't look like a cherry girl." His mouth moved, but no further words came.

"I do not want to be a cherry girl, but I sell my cherry to Mama, so now I must wait."

"Wait for what?" 

"For Mama to sell my cherry."

"Can I buy it? How much is it?" asked Nick.

"You must ask Mama, but she has an offer of 50,000 and there are three customers who are interest. She will sell me next month," Blen told him.

Nick did some quick calculations in his head, "I will speak with Mama tonight."

"There is another guy who is interest in me," said Blen, "He want to marry with me. He is coming next month. He is very rich. He said he will pay any money for me." 

At this, Nick subsided into thought. "I'm not rich. I'm in and out of work. I'm not a steady guy. Maybe you should marry this rich guy. Maybe I should not have interfered. I'm sorry. I didn't know you already had plans."

"I do not have plans. He have plans. I hate him. He raped my throat," Blen told Nick.

"How did he do that?" 

"I am the blow-job girl in Talent Spot. Mama gave him 'try-before-you-buy', but he rape my throat. He says it is my fault."

Nick paused again to reflect on this. 

"What about the other two guys?"

"I do not know the other guys. One is Chinese. He is coming next month. Mama wait him to sell me. He want to meet with me before his offer. The other is from California. He know me, but I do not know him."

"You're full of surprises," said Nick, "every time I meet you, you become more and more interesting. This is a lot to take in so suddenly. I'll speak with Mama tonight. We can talk about our future, or lack of it, tomorrow. For now, let's go to the movies and hold hands."

They took a trike to the mall and sat happily, with their arms around each other, watching other people acting at being thwarted in love, but against all the odds ending up in one another's arms. They left the cinema inspired, and chugged up to Talent Spot in a trike. Nick dropped Blen off with a parting kiss, and promised he would come in later, after he had thought things over.

Blen started work with mixed feelings. She had a boyfriend. She had a relationship. She had placed her trust in Nick, but her world was so uncertain. Nick was not a brother or uncle; he was a stranger. He could disappear overnight. He could have a wife. He might find another girl, but for now she was not troubled by thoughts of Bruno, or her cherry. That was now Nick's problem. If he loved her, he would sort it out.

Amor and Girlie were back at Talent Spot. They had been bar-fined by resident ex-pats, who had married, brought up kids, been widowed, passed their worldly goods to their offspring and retired to Angeles to end their days eking out their pensions as playboys. They enjoyed the girls, and the girls enjoyed them. But, the most a girl would ever be to them was a good value fuck-buddy, who would give them a full 1500 pesos worth once a fortnight. It was good to have a circle of such customers for fun and remuneration, but they would never be life partners.

The three girls went into a girly huddle to discuss Nick.

"Is he the guy you never want to see again?" asked Amor.

"He behave now," said Blen, "He is interest to marry me, he will talk with Mama tonight."

"What happen?"

"He apologise to me."

"For what?"

"He shock me last night. I do not expect him," said Blen.

"Will you divorce him, if he walk in the CR, and you do not expect him?" asked Girlie.

"It is not a joke, he shock me, but he is a nice guy so I forgive him."

"What will happen about Bruno?" asked Amor.

"Nick will make a plan." Blen was confident.

Just as doubts began to surface in Blen's mind, Nick reappeared. He took a seat and Blen hurried over to drape herself on him. 

"Give me four," he ordered.

Blen set up the shooters, and Nick gallantly took his body shot on her lips as her friends followed the touching scene. 

"OK. I will speak with Mama now." 

Blen led him through to the back. "Mama, this is Nick, my boyfriend, he want to speak with you."

"Your boyfriend, Blen? Well .. hello Nick." Mama looked quizzically at him. "What can I do for you?"

"I understand Blen's cherry is for sale, I'd like to buy it."

"I understand," said Mama, "Has Blen tell to you the current position?"

"There is an offer of 50,000 on the table. I can give you 60,000 cash now," said Nick.

"That is a good offer. I like to accept, because the girl is daft, I am sure she will like to give you her cherry. But I cannot. Did Blen tell you that there is an option? I cannot sell her cherry until Fu-Han come here; he has paid 50,000 to keep open the option to bid. When he has met with her I can accept bids, but the friend of Fu-Han is rich, and Bruno also is rich."

"That is pie-in-the-sky," said Nick, "it may never happen. This guy may not like Blen, particularly if Blen doesn't want to be liked. Then there's only one rich guy. He may not return. He may die. He may meet another girl. Angeles is full of pretty cherry-girls. I will give you 75,000 pesos cash now, in your hand. That is certain money."

Mama thought for a moment. "Are you a rich man?" 

"I am a man with 75,000 pesos in my pocket," snapped Nick, "that is all you need to know."

"Of course, I do not mean to pry. But, if I suppose you are not a rich man, if you will pay 75,000, a rich man will pay more."

"May pay more," reminded Nick. "How many people have turned away a great deal, because they believe there is a better one further down the road, only to be disappointed, and miss the best price."

"That is true. What is your best offer?"

"100,000 pesos," said Nick.

"Is that what you have in your pocket?"

"I'll throw in the pocket fluff as well."

"OK, just wait," said Mama, and she walked out.

"She seems to be thinking about it at least?" Nick said to Blen, who waited patiently.

Mama returned. "I have just spoken to one rich man. He offer 150,000 straight away."

"Those are words. It is a promise that can evaporate like the morning mist. I have money now, in my pocket. No dodgy promises. Real money now," said Nick.

"Then I must choose if will place a bet. Can I bet your 100,000?" said Mama, thoughtfully.

She stared at Nick for a few seconds. 

"For all I know, you are a rich man. You may be sounding me to see if you can buy Blen cheap by cutting out your rivals. There are now four interests. I think Blen will go up in value. Go up a lot. I do not think she will go down. I will bet against you. I am sorry, but you must wait, and bid with the others, if they come."

"OK then, you say I must bid, how does that work. What are the rules?" asked Nick.

"I do not know yet. Nothing is arranged. Bruno requires that it is transparent, that he must see the cash; that is all."

"Let me think a moment."

"I will be here all night," said Mama, and she sat down at her desk.

Nick paced back and forth in the changing room, deep in thought, unconscious of Blen's trusting eyes following his every movement. After ten or twelve turns, he returned to Mama.

"Hu-Fan paid 50,000 for an option, right?" 

"Yes, he did." 

"And, there are no rules?"

"There will be." 





Bar Girl Ch. 11



"I would like to suggest a rule, and buy an option," said Nick.

"Go on," said Mama.

"The rule is that there shall be a right of first-refusal. And my option is the right of first-refusal, at the winning bid."

"That is interesting, Maybe Bruno will like that option, he is very keen on Blen. Why should I not offer first-refusal to him?"

"Because, if he had first-refusal, there would be no reason for him to bid. You would take a rich man out of the bidding. That'll drive the bidding down. Call him now. He will pay for first-refusal. He's no fool. To sell it to a poor man won't drag the bidding down, he would be outbid anyway. But, when the bidding stops, you can remind the highest bidder that it's not in the bag. Whatever his bid, the other man still has the right of first-refusal at that price, then give the bidder the opportunity to use his deeper pocket to put the matter beyond doubt by offering a higher price."

Mama thought for a moment. "That is good," she said," and how much will you pay?"

"50,000 cash, now, in your hand."

"We do not need to go through that again. Give me your 50,000. I will write you an option for first-refusal, and I will start the rules."

She took out Blen's file, asked Nick's name, and wrote on a sheet of paper:

Rules for the sale of the cherry of Blen Baitan. 

1. Nicholas Carter shall have first-refusal at the winning bidder's highest offer.

2. All bids shall be transparent and certain and payable immediately in cash.

She then wrote out two identical first-refusal agreements, which she receipted, and they both signed each of them, keeping one each. Mama slipped hers, together with the first two rules, into Blen's file. She then entered the 50,000 pesos in her ledger, and locked it in her cash tin.

"Have you seen the product?" Mama asked Nick, fanning Blen's witness shots on the desk.

Nick peered at them intently. He had never seen so much pink. The photos beguiled him, and the more so since it was his girlfriend and he felt a proud entitlement to ownership of the beauty spread before him. Having never seen a hymen before, he examined the pale seal closely, finding it far less attractive than what lay around or beneath it. And, why do people pay for it, only to immediately destroy it, he wondered. He did not care whether Blen came as a virgin or not, he wanted only her smile and her affection - and her shiny pink parts. He couldn't give a damn for that unprepossessing, white skin tag - but he would buy it as a gift for her, it was not for himself. 

Mama also wondered, pretty as it was, why the hymen of such an unremarkable girl, should attract such interest. Already it was her best ever purchase. She had 100,000 in her pocket from options alone, and just this evening the starting bid had risen from 50,000 to 150,000. Who knew how high the bids would go?

As they walked out from the rear, Blen looped her arm through Nick's, and took hold of him with both hands. Amor leant down from the stage, and asked what had happened.

"Nick will buy my cherry," Blen replied.

When they sat down, Nick said, "That may have just made things worse, I had 100,000, now I only have 50,000."

"But, you can buy my cherry, whatever the other guys bid?"

"Only, if I have a lot of money. I don't know how much, but a lot. No matter how much I raise I can't be certain. But we have a holding position."

"It is not until next month. I know you will get the money," Blen said.

Nick finished his drink. "You can't work, with me here, and I can't buy you ladies drinks all night. I'll meet you tomorrow, on the corner of Fields and MacArthur. Is one-o'clock fine."

"I see you tomorrow then," said Blen.

She escorted Nick to the door, and kissed him goodnight.



Bar Girl Ch. 12



Chapter 12. 'Faithless Filipinas.'

The Cheap Charlie life. Cherry pop choices. Nick's next offer. Foreign husband murdered. Hu-Fan's unicorn.

When they met next day, Nick suggested that they go to his hotel.

"I like to go in Wild Orchard," said Blen.

"No more Wild Orchard," Nick told her, "That was when I was a poor man. Now I'm destitute, I have to live within my means."

They crossed back over MacArthur, and walked towards Abacan Bridge. After a couple of hundred meters, they stood outside Nick's hotel.

"This is a Cheap Charlie hotel," said Blen.

"Just one step up from sleeping in Bayanihan Park. From now on, no expensive hotels, no bar-fines, no ladies' drinks, no bar-hopping. I must sit in my room, like a Cheap Charlie, with a bottle of rice whisky and a sneak out girl."

"I will be your sneak out girl."

"Just my luck, you're a cherry."

"My mouth is not a cherry," said Blen.

"I've got a bottle of tequila in my room," said Nick.

The small room, illuminated by a fifteen-watt lamp, had no window, and no air-conditioning. A fan hummed in the corner circulating air, humid from the en-suite shower. An old television showed ghosted and snowy pictures of local channels picked up from a poorly set-up roof-aerial.

Blen undressed, folded her clothes, then lay on the bed. She watched Nick fiddle with the TV, move the fan to a better position and pour some drinks, before he stripped off his clothes and lay on the bed beside her. She rolled against him, one leg over his hips, one arm over his chest, and her head resting on his shoulder. She began to stroke his chest. Nick's penis stiffened against the back of her leg.

"Would you like my massage?" she asked.

"What about an ass-fuck?" said Nick.

"My cherry ass is already promise." 

Nick raised his head. "Promised! Who is it promised to?"

"The Masters of Uranus."

"Who the fuck are the Masters of Uranus?" 

"They are guys who like the ass; they will buy my ass cherry."

"Well ... maybe an ear fuck ... or a nose fuck?" said Nick.

"Sorry Siir, the mouth only," said Blen.

"So, how much for your ass cherry, then?"

"5000 pesos."

"OK. Maybe I should buy your ass cherry, I can afford that."

"Save your money for my pussy, I do not care about my ass." 

"And, why is your ass so cheap and your pussy so expensive?" 

"Because the ass is for recreation, and the pussy is for procreation."

"Personally, I would prefer a little recreation."

"That is not romantic," Blen told him.

"Let's hope I can afford romance," said Nick.

Blen moved up on top of Nick and kissed him, her tongue lingering long and deep. Then she knelt beside him and bent her head forward, so her hair hung down, and brushed it up and down his body. His penis strained to its fullest height. Blen folded it, safe from harm, against his stomach, rolled him over, straddled his buttocks, and once more brushed her hair over his body. Next, beginning at his shoulders, she massaged her way down to his feet, then rolled him back, and lay over him and kissed him deeply again. Finally, as she would with a customer, she began her butterfly dance towards his groin.

Blen lay between Nick's legs and looked up at his towering penis, twitching above his taut balls. He pointed straight. She examined him closely. His balls were firm and egg shaped under his crinkled scrotum. His pubic hair was curled and unkempt, but not too matted, and grew close around the base of his penis. As she smelt his balls and penis, he felt her warm breath on him. She took hold of his penis, and it filled her hand. The touch was firm, and when she moved it, it resisted firmly, seeking to stand straight. A dignified, homely penis she concluded, one she would be happy to do business with.

Blen moved above Nick's penis, and lowered her head, enveloping it in her open mouth. She sought his eyes, but Nick lay flat on the bed so their eyes could not meet. Turning her attention to his testicles, she licked and sucked, and worked diligently away, rising up his penis, until he started to spasm, then taking his penis into her mouth, she sucked gently as he expelled his semen. She gathered it in her mouth, and when his spasm subsided, she slid up Nick's body, looked into his eyes, allowed his semen to spill onto her lips, then locked lips with him once more, and their tongues twisted together, bathed in his salty seed.

After their embrace, Blen wriggled back onto his chest, and lay on him, her arms and legs embracing him, her head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, she fell into a contented sleep.

When they stirred again, Nick gathered Blen up, laid her on her back, placed pillows by the end of the bed, lifted her buttocks onto them, and knelt before her.

"Now it's your turn."

He parted her legs, and spread her pussy. By the fifteen-watt lamp, there was little colour, and the hues were hard to distinguish. Her labia glowed dimly around her grey hymen, and in the gloaming, he could see a small black circle in the middle. Leaning forward, with his tongue he explored Blen's hymen, probing at the central hole. 

He lifted his head, "That's the most expensive snack I'll ever taste."

"Finish your meal," gasped Blen.

Nick continued to apply his mouth to her pussy, licking and sucking teasingly, rocking her back to probe into her anus, nibbling and pulling at her labia with his teeth. He read the rise in her hips, and clenching of her thighs, and delayed her climax until he had entertained her for a considerate period, then moved in to suddenly and persistently assault her clitoris with all his arts, until Blen bucked her hips, clenched her thighs, and hung there arched, impaled against his tongue. Still he continued, keeping her contorted, with her ass lifted off the bed, until her cervix collapsed exhausted to her vaginal floor, and she unravelled to lie motionless, apart from her heaving chest. He waited until her breathing grew shallow, then moved in to worship her pussy once more.

After bringing Blen to climax three times, Nick lifted her back to the centre of the bed, and lying face to face with her, they exchanged butterfly kisses and stared into one another's eyes.

"When we are marry, we will do this every day," murmured Blen.

"Maybe I'll have second thoughts," said Nick, "I heard a cautionary tale today."

"What is that?" asked Blen.

"It's a sad story about a foreigner married to a Filipina girl."

"Tell me."

"He was an older guy like me. He married a younger girl like you. He bought her a house here in Angeles ... in her name, because he was a foreigner. They had two kids and he loved his family very much. He went abroad to work, and give his family a good life. His wife got bored and started taking shabu. She started to run wild when he was away, and she found a Filipino boyfriend. Her husband came home and discovered she was on shabu. He insisted that she went into rehab, but she wouldn't go. They fell out. He came back from a stint at work yesterday, and his house was locked up. His wife had sold it. He made enquiries, and was told she was leaving for Cebu today. She was taking their children and running away with the boyfriend. He's been left sitting on the curb side, with nothing to show for ten years. He still loves his wife. He still loves his children. All he can do is sit and cry."

"I will never leave you if you take me to your work with you. I do not want to be without you. And I will never leave you if you eat my pussy every day," said Blen.

That evening, in the changing area, Mama pumped Blen for details of her assignation with Nick. "Does Nick have a plan to pay for your cherry?"

"He will save, and I will save." 

"You will pay for your own cherry? You are a strange girl."

"We will share everything," Blen told Mama.

"Do not build up your hope. I do not think Nick can pay for your cherry, even with your help. Be ready to hold your nose for at least one day while you humour with Bruno. He is a stupid man, and it is now a point of honour for him. He have lose his judgement. He will pay, even an unreasonable amount."

"I know Nick will win," replied Blen.

Blen redoubled her efforts to sell shooters, but her commission accumulated slowly as Talent Spot suffered from the customer drought. She now returned to Nick's hotel each evening to sleep through to the next morning. Then, they would canoodle, practising their oral skills for an hour or so, before going to eat. Blen knew all the cheap karenderia where they could sit and chat with her friends. 

Saturday evening brought a further development. Blen's secret admirer showed his hand.

Jordan came into Talent Spot, returned Blen's cordial greeting and walked through to the rear. Half an hour later, he came out with Mama, and they invited Blen to sit with them.

Mama began, "Blen, Jordan bring me the offer for your cherry for 50,000 pesos. It is not from him, but from a man he work with. He see you at the Wet-T and take an interest in you. His interest is to fuck you, but now his interest is commercial. He like your photos, he like your video ... Jordan have tell me about that ... and he want to make an offer. It is interesting, but it is up to you. It will help you to escape from Bruno."

Jordan cut in, "We placed your photos and they were very popular. There's been a lot of comment. The members are fascinated because you're a virgin. They want to see more of you. My friend, the guy who runs the hard-core sites, let's call him Jack, saw possibilities too. That's why he ordered the 10 2 Beat video. That's been up for three days and on each day it's been the highest rated video by far. His members like your style; the virgin porn-actress also fascinates them. He'd like you to make another video."

"I will do it. When will it be?" agreed Blen, immediately.

"Not for a few weeks. It isn't quite as straight forward as your last video. Jack wants to buy your cherry to use in the video."

"How?" asked Blen, puzzled, "How can he do that?"

"First, he would have to win you cherry. Mama tells me she has decided to auction it, so he will bid in the auction, but only if you agree. Without your cooperation the video will be no good."

"My boyfriend will buy my cherry. He have first-refusal," said Blen blithely.

Mama broke in, "I have warn you Blen, you must not rely on Nick. He will try his best, but it is not realistic to expect him to raise enough money. You need a fall back plan if you do not want Bruno to deflower you. Listen to Jordan's proposition. If you do not agree, Jack will drop out, and it will just be between the Chinese and Bruno."

Jordan carried on, "Jack is launching a web-cast service. The idea is that his members can subscribe for events that are web-cast live. It is a sort of pay-per-view. He wants a strong launch, something that will be talked about and pull in more subscribers. The reason why he's willing to pay a high price for your cherry is so he can use it on his first web-cast. You have a high recognition factor among his members, and they like you, they're intrigued by your cherry. Jack is sure he could attract a big audience to watch you being deflowered."

"So maybe Nick could fuck me?" suggested Blen.

"The problem is, that if Nick, or anyone else deflowers you, it will not be very visual, not much for the subscribers to see. Jack wants something very different, very visual and dramatic, that highlights your virginity. If you're deflowered from the outside in, there's nothing to see. He wants to deflower you from the inside out, so the subscribers can see your hymen ruptured," said Jordan.

"But ... How could that happen?" asked Blen.

"Jack has come up with a method. He's done some research, and worked out that he can adapt a balloon catheter."

"What is that?"

"It's a balloon on a nozzle used for medical purposes, it can be inserted into narrow spaces. It can be inserted through the hole in your hymen, and when it's inside your vagina it can be inflated. When the balloon is blown up, it can be pulled back through your vaginal entrance and tear away your hymen as it comes through. Everything can be caught on camera. Jack has ideas for attaching some little spikes to the top of the balloon, like a reverse umbrella. As the balloon is withdrawn, the umbrella will open, and the first thing the viewer would see is the spikes pierce through your hymen. That would look very dramatic. The balloon would then tear away the remnants. Then Nick could fuck you."

"So nobody would take my cherry?" said Blen.

"Correct," said Mama, "and that means Bruno would not take your cherry, and Nick would be the first man to fuck you."

Blen thought for a while. "But that is not romantic. I like Nick to take my cherry."

"That is not all, listen to Jordan," said Mama.

"This is the good part of the offer. We want you to enjoy the experience, so we will pay you 30% of the price Mama gets for your cherry. But you must tell us that you are happy with the deal or Jack won't bid."

"I will guess that you will get more than 60,000 pesos," said Mama, "just think, 60,000 pesos, and no Bruno."

Blen considered. "I will ask Nick what is best."

"We will need a decision within a week," added Jordan, "this would be a live event, and Jack would need to make preparations, promote the event, and launch his web-cast service. It will take a lot of technical coordination, but if you agree, Jack will bid big. He'll have to win."

"OK, I will tell you soon my decision," said Blen.

Blen waited for the right moment to broach this proposal with Nick. As it was Sunday, she rose early to go to Mass, taking Nick with her. She made her usual devotions, and after they deposited their offerings in the Charity Box, walked back to Nick's hotel, where they returned to bed to enjoy their morning tryst. 

It was when Nick began to bestir himself from his post-orgiastic rest that Blen pulled him to her, and spoke, "I have another offer. What do you think I will do?" 

"Tell me." 

He listened, eyes growing wider as she repeated Jordan's proposal. "I can't believe this. How do they think these things up?"

"I do not know. It is not my imagination, it is his. He is a rich guy and he know how to make money."

"And are you willing to do it?"

"If I have two cherries I am happy. If it is pleasure for some guys, and they will pay, I like them to have their pleasure, and me to have their money. Pleasure is not bad. But I have only one cherry, I want it for you."

Nick lay in thought, calculating how to approach this.

"Which would you prefer, the balloon or Bruno?"

"I like the balloon. I hate Bruno."

"Is that what you want?" 

"I want to give you my cherry. You must buy it."

"But, how am I to do that?" Nick wondered, out loud.

"You have been in school. It is up to you," said Blen.

"Suppose there is the remotest possibility that I could equal the highest offer, and that is unlikely, but suppose I could; would it be an advantage to have Jack in or out of the bidding?" 

"Out," said Blen, "there is less people to bid so the price is less."

"All other things being equal, but they are not equal. There is a preferred bidder, and you can only increase the chance of getting first-refusal by removing the preferred bidder. The chance of our first choice outcome can only be optimised by foregoing our second choice outcome. But maximising our first choice outcome also maximises our third choice outcome. We must choose. Should our strategy be to maximise our first choice outcome or minimise our third choice outcome. Do you follow?"

"No," said Blen.

"What would upset you most, me being the first man to fuck you, but you having no hymen, or Bruno taking your cherry?" 

"Bruno," replied Blen emphatically.

"Then our strategy must be to minimise the worst outcome. Accept Jordan's offer. We will be in the driving seat at the last bid, and the chance of the worst outcome is minimised"

"I trust you," said Blen.

On Monday evening, she informed Mama of her decision. 

Mama hugged and kissed her. "I knew you would be a good girl. That is a very sensible decision. We are all going to make a lot of money. It is a shame that Nick is not rich, but this is the best outcome, even if it is not a fairy tale."

"Nick does not need to be rich. He is clever. He has a strategy. He will buy my cherry," replied Blen, adamantly.

As Blen sat in the lady-house with Nick and her friends, eating a meal and excitedly discussing payday, her phone rang. 

She looked at it. "It is Bruno."

The room fell silent as Blen answered. "Yes," she said curtly.

"Good afternoon my little Goddess, how wonderful it is to speak to you again. I have good news for you." The words were honeyed, but that made Bruno's voice seem all the more sinister.

"What is that?"

"I have bought your garments for you. They are beautiful, fit for a Goddess, and on you they will look more beautiful. I am so looking forward to dressing you, and laying you on my bed, and, especially, worshipping you."

"Me, I have good news also."

"And what is your good news?"

"You do not need your garments. I will never wear them. I have a boyfriend. He will buy my cherry," said Blen.

"Do not be a foolish girl," Bruno's voice was now, deliberately menacing, "I will have you the nice way, or I will have you the nasty way. I prefer the nasty way. I am nice only to oblige you. Do not cross me, or I will take you the nasty way."

"Do not call me again. My boyfriend will be angry," said Blen, and hung up.

The girls all laughed on hearing this.

As Blen recounted the conversation to Nick, her phone rang again. She looked at it and rejected the call. "It is Bruno."

This happened several times, to the merriment of the girls. Eventually, Marivic asked for the phone and blocked Bruno's number. Fifteen minutes passed and Blen's phone rang again, an unknown number. Blen answered. It was Bruno's voice, screaming down the phone, demented and violent, but not in English. 

Blen listened to the abuse for several seconds, then calmly hung up. "He is angry. I will get a new SIM." She switched the phone off.

"Maybe you should try to keep him sweet," advised Nick, "the smart money is still on you having to spend a night with him. It could be very unpleasant if you wind him up."

"You must save me," Blen told him.

When she arrived for work, Mama immediately took Blen to one side. "What have you say to Bruno? He has call me today. He think we plot against him. Do you tell him you have a boyfriend?" 

"Yes, I tell him. I tell him Nick will buy my cherry."

"He think this is a story I have thought up with you to take money from him."

"Good," said Blen, "maybe he will not bid."

"He is more determine than ever. I have assure him that there are rules, and that all bids will be transparent and certain, and he will be able to see them. He has better his offer."

"How can he do that, he does not know his bid yet," asked Blen.

"I tell him of Jack's offer, how he will pay to you 30% for agreement. He say he will pay to you 50%, if you will agree to him. He do not like you to be angry with him, but he will like your cherry whether you agree or not. Maybe it is best now if you are nice to him. It will be him to take your cherry unless there is a miracle. Think, you will get 100,000 pesos, maybe more, and Bruno will be just another guy. All the other girls will fuck with him for 600 pesos. It is time to be reasonable, Blen."

"I have my miracle, Nick is my miracle," replied Blen.

"Shall I tell him you agree to him?" 

"No. Never. I will never agree to him. If he is to win, he must rape with me. He say that is his preference. He is an ass-hole and I will never agree to him."

Precious had come into Talent Spot to collect her salary, leaving her customer to his own devices for an hour. At the end of the shift, the girls gathered around Mama's desk to collect their salaries for the last fortnight. Blen, with the benefit of Bruno's bar-fine, earned 13,050p. Girlie, now that she was offering the in house 'suck n' fuck' service earned 10,220p. Precious, who spent most time out on bar-fine netted 7030p and Amor 6450p. Girlie paid off her credit, and determined to live frugally for another fortnight, but free of debt. With tips from the clients, the girls were relatively prosperous.




Bar Girl Ch. 12



"I earn much more in my tips than in my salary," remarked Precious.

"If a customer want to give you money he will be very generous," said Mama, "so give him good service, and take him to the airport, and he will give a big tip and send you money for support. There are also many earning opportunities beside your salary. Amor, you should learn to give the blow-job, I cannot recommend you satisfaction guaranteed if you do not. It is what many customers want. You also, Girlie, you are a cherry ass. You will need to be a three-hole girl soon. Blen, you will be a three-holer in one month. I want all you girls to think about one month. Be ready by then, so when the customers return you will be my best girls. You will be bar-fine every night, and you will have good tips from your customers. Your tips will be much more than your salary if you are a top girl."

When they left Talent Spot, before heading off up Fields Avenue, Precious said she would come to the lady-house in the morning, and they would decide how to spend their day-off. The remaining three walked down to MacArthur Highway and crossed. Having said she and Nick would come around in the morning, Blen turned right towards Nick's hotel, and Girlie and Amor continued to the lady-house.

On Wednesday morning, Blen and Nick shopped for rice, meat and vegetables on their way to the lady-house, and Blen busied herself cooking while Nick watched the TV. By the time her housemates had risen and Precious arrived, a large pot of sticky rice, a pan of vegetables and chicken sinigang were prepared. Jugs of pomelo juice were made up from powder, and breakfast overflowed into the courtyard as everybody took their share and found somewhere to sit and eat.

"What is your plan now?" Precious asked Blen.

"Nick has a plan." Blen looked at Nick.

"Will you buy Blen's cherry?" Precious asked him.

"I have the right of first-refusal. Now it's just a matter of raising the money."

"How much will that be?" 

"Five to ten thousand dollars seems to be the ball park figure, at the moment." 

"What is that in pesos?" said Precious.

"250,000 to 500,000," Nick told her.

All the girls, except Blen, expressed horror.

"Blen why is your cherry so much?" asked Girlie, "You sell it to Mama for 22,000."

"It is because of Bruno, he is crazy. I am his whore-goddess, and he is rich."

"But cannot Mama take 100,000 from Nick, then she has a fair price?" asked Precious.

"I'm not sure Mama would be happy with a fair price ," said Nick, "but she has an excuse to decline it, she has accepted 50,000 from one person for an option to bid, and she would have to give that back. I do not think Mama gives money back."

"Are you not rich also?" asked Amor.

"We're all fortunate in the West, but we're not all rich," said Nick. "I'm just fortunate ... Bruno is rich."

"Can you not get 10,000 dollars?" asked Girlie.

"I have to work and save. All my savings have been spent, or are earmarked. I only made provision to come here for a couple of months. I've paid for my treatment. I have to leave money in my bank account to pay my mortgage and feed my business accounts. Until I start work again, I've no more disposable cash. I just have what's left of my vacation allowance after paying 50,000p for first-refusal. I've already scraped around for any spare cash. I can max out on my credit card, but that'll only be about 2,500 dollars. Anyway, I'll need to wait to nearer the time to see how much I actually have."

"How much do you have now?" asked Precious.

"About 100,000." 

"You must ask Mama," said Amor, "I will give you 20,000p, if we all give, you will have 150,000 and you can ask."

"I will give you also," said Precious.

"I have 2000, you can have that also," added Girlie.

"Thank you, but I can't accept your money. That is for your families," said Nick.

"It is not a gift for you it is for our sister, together we can save her," said Amor.

Nick repeated, and increased, his protests.

"But, you think Mama will not accept," said Amor.

"I don't think she would."

"Then you must ask and we will know." 

"Yes, ask," said Precious, "We will bring our money and if she will accept we help you to pay."

Nick turned to Blen. "Would you ask this of your friends?" 

Blen stared into his face. "It is my friends who offer, it is up to you if you accept."

The tone of her voice conveyed that a refusal would be a personal betrayal. 

Nick thought briefly. He was certain Mama would refuse. "OK, I will ask. First send your remittances, then have ready what you wish to contribute, I'll ask today."

After sending their remittances, the girls went together to the bank. Amor collected her ATM card, then she and Precious went to the ATM and left only minimal balances to keep open the accounts. They secreted their wads securely, and walked back up MacArthur to Nick's hotel. Once safely in his room, they all produced their contributions. One by one, they were counted, and a record made. The pot was then totalled. 

Blen had put in 5,000, Girlie 2,000, Precious 25,000 and Amor 23,000. Added to Nick's 98,000 this totalled 153,000 pesos.

"Let's go and see what Mama says," said Nick.

They walked up together and entered Talent Spot like a delegation. Mama, who was completing the organisation of the early shift, saw them enter, and looked at them expectantly as they approached her.

"Good afternoon Mama, can I have a word?" said Nick.

"We had better go into the back." Mama led the little procession through.

"I have another proposal," said Nick.

"For Blen's cherry?" Mama clarified.

Nick confirmed that it was, and got straight to the point.

"I can improve my offer. I can give you 150,000 cash today. You can repay Hu-fan his option fee; you have my option fee of 50,000, so you will receive 150,000 for Blen's cherry. That's top dollar. Have you ever received so much for a cherry before?"

"No, I have not, receive 150,000. But, as you know Nick, Blen is a very special girl who deserve a special price."

"I do not like to be special Mama," said Blen, "my cherry is not special, only for me. I like Nick to have it."

"Remember Blen, these romantic notions are very recent," replied Mama. "You did not have them two months ago. You did not have them when you work in the rice fields. You come to me and ask me for an opportunity. Now you have a job. You support your family. You have your choice of foreign boyfriends. I give you this opportunity. When I pay for your cherry, I do not know if I will make money or lose money. Now you have a good life you forget the promises you made when you want an opportunity. Let us ask Precious, Girlie, and Amor how they lose their cherries. If any of them has lose their cherry romantically, to a man they love, I will accept Nick's offer."

At fourteen, Precious had been seduced by her uncle when she was working in the fields. Amor, out of curiosity more than anything, had allowed herself to be fucked perfunctorily up against a tree by someone else's boyfriend when she was sixteen. Girlie, when she was seventeen, had been casually gang-raped by three former classmates, while she was drunk.

"I also was not fortunate," added Mama, "I am a cherry girl of fifteen. I go cherry bar-fine with a customer. He know my cherry is for sale, but when he eat my pussy I cannot resist, I think he will love me, I like him to fuck me, and he do. He do not pay for my cherry, and I never see him again. He rob me of my cherry, and leave me with a broken heart. If you do not like to be special, do not be romantic. Count the good fortune you have, and let others have their good fortune also."

"I will give you 150,000 today, and 150,000 in one week," said Nick.

"You also have a slice of pie-in-the-sky," said Mama.

"300,000 for Blen's cherry, paid in seven days. You'll be able to go to the bank next Wednesday and pay it in." 

"Remember last time you make me an offer I call to Bruno. I will not do so now. Already he has offer 150,000 and 50% for Blen. He offer without hesitation, without thinking. Jack and Hu-Fan will push him high, very high. 300,000 in seven days, or 500,000 in, maybe fourteen days. It is soon now. Which will you choose?" 

"Mama, that is not fair. You are from our barangay, you should help Blen," said Amor.

"I have help, I can help no more. I bring you from our barangay, so you can earn money. Earning money is about taking your opportunity, not fairness. I have been fair. Now Blen has her chance to earn 100,000 pesos for one night, and I will earn also, but she will refuse that money, and refuse me my opportunity. That is not fair."

"I see you are not minded to cut a deal today, but I'll leave the offer open. If you change your mind, let me know," Nick said.

The party returned to Nick's room, monies were redistributed, and they made their way back to the bank where Precious and Amor once more deposited their savings.

Back outside, Nick said, "Thanks for trying. Now you girls go and enjoy your day-off." 

"I will come with you," said Blen to Nick.

"No, you go and enjoy yourself with the others. Have a good time. I'll take a walk and have a think. I need to be alone. I'll see you tonight."

They walked back to the hotel, where Nick and Blen kissed, and parted. The girls then continued onwards, and crossed into Fields Avenue. 

Blen and her friends found a little karaoke bar off Perimeter Road and settled down to drink, sing and flirt with the trike drivers, who frittered their earnings on Red Horse. A trike driver arriving from Villa-Sol Subdivision, further up Perimeter Road, brought news which fascinated his colleagues. 

He had regularly transported a German man and his Filipina wife up to Perimeter Road, or into town or to the market. A couple of months earlier, the wife had struggled from her house, bound and with a shirt tied over her head. Her story was that at four in the morning, several men had barged into her bedroom, hog-tied her, and tied a shirt over her head. When she heard all commotion cease and she believed they had gone, she freed herself and went into the sala, where she found her husband collapsed, stabbed, and apparently dead. She went outside and cried out to raise the alarm. Neighbours came and released her and the police were summoned. 

Some months had now elapsed, and the police had today returned seeking information on the whereabouts of the wife. It transpired that the police had received an anonymous call to say that the caller had been asked by a security guard, called Roland, who worked at a certain KTV bar, to kill a foreign resident in Villa-sol. The anonymous tipster had refused, but when he heard of this crime, he felt he should report the conversation to the police. The police had enquired into the background of the wife, and found that she went to the gym adjacent to the KTV bar. 

They then made enquiries in Roland's neighbourhood. Roland had boasted of having a girlfriend who was the abused wife of a foreign resident. Some of Roland's acquaintances recognised the wife's photo as Roland's girl friend. Roland had also said his girlfriend gave him 20,000 pesos to redeem his house, which had been mortgaged to a private moneylender. 

The wife had moved in with her sister following the murder, but when investigators went to the sister's house they were told that, shortly before, the occupants furtively evacuated with all their possessions at midnight, and left leaving no forwarding address. Examination of the crime scene had led investigators to believe that the husband had been killed in the bedroom while he slept, and his body moved to the sala. He was an ex-bouncer and karate black belt, but there was no sign that he had tried to defend himself. Now, Roland and the wife had disappeared, and the trail had gone cold.

"Why did she want to kill her foreigner?" asked Amor.

"She was depress. She do not like her life with him. He is very strict with her, but he like to butterfly. He bring back young girls and make her join in the orgy. There are many photos found by the police," said the trike driver.

"Why not leave him, why kill him?" 

"Maybe she hate him. Maybe she is jealous with the young girls. Maybe he do not let her leave. I do not know. He is not a nice guy."

"If I marry with Bruno, I will kill him," said Blen, "Maybe the guy is like Bruno."

"You must wait until Jesusa finish in school," said Amor.

"Then, that will be my fate; I must wait her to graduate school. But, I will have a lover to keep my soul alive."

The girls got drunk, and sang the evening away. At midnight, they returned to their beds, Amor and Girlie to the lady-house, Precious and Blen, to their companions' hotels.

Nick came to reception to welcome Blen with a kiss, and with his arm around her waist led her to his room. Blen was maudlin. She undressed, then pulled Nick onto the bed with her.

"If you do not buy my cherry, I will marry with Bruno," she told him, "but you will be my lover. When Jesusa is graduate, you will kill him, then you will have me, and we will have his money."

"Why would you want to marry Bruno, you hate him?" asked Nick, casually.

"Because -"

"Because what?" 

"Because, you do not offer me. Bruno has offer me. Because you are a poor guy. Bruno is rich. Because it is my fate. I must do it for Jesusa. I do not like it, but I can do it." 

Nick considered his reply with care. Here and now, he loved Blen. More than anything in the world, he wished to be with her. But she was from a different world. Could she live with him in his world? Would he be happy? Would she be happy? She believed in fate. Maybe it was their fate to be lovers passing in the night, a brief and blissful romance that would corrupt into something ugly back in his real world. This black-eyed beauty, who stared mournfully into his eyes, silently pleading, "Offer me - offer me," not only seduced him, she frightened him.

This girl had steel in her soul. He knew she had, because it had been tested. She had never had the easy option, yet she had faced her fate and accepted it, she had endured a fate worse than death, lived through it, and smiled. He had never had that iron determination, and he felt she could see the weakness in him, the pliability, the tendency to bend to the expectations of others. Now she was forcing him to admit his weakness.

He thought for too long.

"If Bruno win my cherry I will marry with him. I do not want you for my lover." Blen rolled over.

Nick lay and listened to her sob, unable to find careful words, and lacking that courage which Blen possessed, to leap fearlessly into the dark.

When they woke on Thursday morning, Nick and Blen lay side-by-side, each aware that the other was awake, but unsure of their new relationship, unsure what to say.

"I never expected I would meet a girl like you. I just came to fix my teeth," Nick offered, by way of partial explanation, or excuse.

"I know. It is just my dream, but I have cry away my dream now," said Blen.

"It was my dream also, it still is my dream. But it's a dream without a plan. A dream without a plan is fantasy. What we need is a plan." 

"Then what is a dream with a plan, it is still a dream," said Blen disconsolately.

"A dream with a plan is a possibility."

"So, it is possible you may marry with me?" 

"That depends on the plan. We share the dream. If our plan is a good plan our dream will come true," said Nick.

"What is our plan?" asked Blen.

"I'm still working on that." 

"Work quick. There is not much time. If Bruno win my cherry I cannot marry with you. I will marry with him. I will know that is my fate."

"Good. I work best under pressure?" said Nick.

Blen rolled onto Nick and kissed him, "You can eat my pussy now."

That evening, Mama had more news for Blen.

"I have two contacts from interested parties today. The 10th November will be a big day for you. Bruno will return. He want to speak with you. And Hu-Fan and Mr Chew will arrive. Mr Chew will interview you next day."

"I do not want to speak with Bruno," said Blen. "If he will win my cherry I will marry with him. I cannot marry Nick if he do not take my cherry. But I do not want to speak with Bruno, I just enjoy my time with Nick, so I have a remembrance. Do not tell Bruno, I do not want to give him joy."

"That is best. He will give you a good life; he will educate your sister. He can send her to university, maybe in America. It is not so much he ask you in return. Just a little joy."

"I also will have only a little joy. I dream of joy forever. There is no joy forever for the poor, only for the rich. I was foolish," said Blen.

"There will be very many with a harder life. But, Mr Chew may be the one. He also is very rich. He is old and he is dying, his is a strange request also."

"What is his request?" asked Blen wearily.

"He seek a cure for his illness. He is Chinese, and superstitious. He believe a story, that if he eat the semen of a unicorn he will return to youth. Only a virgin can catch a unicorn. He need you to catch the unicorn."

"A unicorn. What is a unicorn? Is he a crazy man?"

"It is a spirit animal, he believe in magic," Mama told her.

Blen laughed, "How will I catch a spirit? I do not think he is serious."

Mama explained further, "He believe that when he will smoke opium he will enter the spirit world. You will enter with him, and you must accept the unicorn and after it take your cherry, he will eat the semen from your pussy. That will restore his body to health and youth."

"I do not understand how I can do that, if there is no unicorn," said Blen.

"Mr Hu-Fan will arrange it, he will explain everything." 

"The man is a fool. Even rich men must die. They cannot pay money to escape death."

"Mr Hu-Fan will part the fool from his money, and he will give some of it to me. Maybe, also to you. I think he will also have a proposal for you, but you must wait until he come."

Blen spent the evening in a despondent mood. She knew her fate. She regretted having gone to McDonalds with Nick, to having the presumption to be a student nurse for even one day. If she had not known how that felt, she could not feel her present misery. Now, she understood why it is said that Man is the only creature capable of unhappiness, because he knows not only what is, but also what could have been.



Bar Girl Ch. 13



Chapter 13. 'Miss Butt-Slut.'

Angel's Wand Raid. Blen meets the President. Typhoon Cimaron. Bombs? Stag Night Party. Miss Butt-Slut and the Masters of Uranus.

In mid-evening, there was an alarm. Near the top of Fields Ave, there had been a raid. Angel's Wand was sealed off by police, and no one was allowed to enter or leave. Mama quickly enforced strict adherence to the guidelines. Customers finished their drinks and walked up the street to watch, as did Daddy Don. Mama hurried to the back to check all paperwork was in order and hide, in a specially prepared hiding place, any unsecured documents which might prove embarrassing - like Blen's contract - and cash money. Cash rarely survived a police search.

The remainder of the evening passed in tension. No one believed there would be a second raid, but if the man next to you is struck by lightning, the fear lasts as long as you hear thunder.

On Friday, the details had become clear, and Mama and Daddy endlessly mulled over the implications. Daddy had received an account, literally from the horse's mouth: the executive vice president of the Tourism Association of Angeles City (TAAC), Humphrey. He had attended during the raid, and been himself arrested and abused by NBI officers. Humphrey was the proprietor of small pension house with a bar/restaurant and small staff of five or six GROs. He was actively involved in the bar proprietor's association, and was well connected.

Having heard of the raid, his wife had driven him to Angel's Wand, where NBI personnel were still present. On speaking to the officer in charge, he found that the officer had not heard of TAAC, and suspected that he, Humphrey, was a wanted person. The officer explained that the raid was a rescue mission to recover a girl listed as a minor but working at Angel's Wand. The girl was not on the premises, but the officer had ordered three other girls to be 'rescued' as minors; girls about whom he had no information, and whose paperwork was in order. These three girls, together with Mama-san and two supervisors, who were arrested for human trafficking, had been taken to the NBI office.

When told that Humphrey wished to update the president of TAAC, and who that president was, the officer lost control and became abusive. He ordered his officers to arrest Humphrey for obstructing the investigation and take him to NBI headquarters. On the way to the headquarters, sited near the airport, there was a cat and mouse game with Humphrey's cell phone. When he first tried to use it, the officer in charge, who continued to fulminate, smacked him in the face and confiscated it. Sometimes it was confiscated, and sometimes given back. At one point, he was given it and told to call the president of TAAC and bring him to NBI headquarters. Humphrey got no reply, so he called a government Secretary, who was an advisor to President Arroyo. This gentleman took particulars and said he would see what he could do. When told who had been called, the officer defamed this Secretary, and again confiscated the cell phone. So it was that Humphrey came to be locked up at midnight. 

Having been booked in and fingerprinted, he was locked in a cell. Just as he settled to sleep, his door was opened, and he was let out into the holding area, where the three Mama-sans and three 'rescued' girls also waited. The officer in charge had returned to Angel's Wand. Humphrey was told that the NBI required assistance with one of the three Mama-sans, who would not cooperate. If he could persuade her to cooperate, he would be released. Humphrey spoke with the Mama-sans, and was able to determine that the girl in question did not work in the bar, but she was known to one of the Mama-sans, and that a friend of the girl, who had been working that night, might know her whereabouts.

A second team of officers returned to the bar, but the friend had left.

In the morning, Humphrey was released, and his cell phone returned. It transpired that the Secretary had ordered his release the previous evening, and was upset that he had been disobeyed. The Secretary, the President of TAAC and the TAAC lawyer travelled up from Manila that day, and the NBI Director in Angeles was summoned to see them at the Holiday Inn. He was very apologetic about the slapping incident, and the disrespectful references to the Secretary and TAAC President. He undertook to take administrative action against the responsible officers.

Humphrey had not been asked for a bribe, but before the call came through to release him there had already been suggestions that when charges were laid, the US embassy would be informed, and he would lose his retirement pay. It was fiction, but it was the standard prelude to soliciting a bribe. Humphrey's ordeal had been relatively brief; he was well connected; he had pull. Most foreigners did not, and once fallen into the clutches of the NBI, police or Immigration it was difficult to escape.

As of Friday evening, the three Mama-sans remained locked up. They had been charged with trafficking in relation to the three 'rescued' girls, and trafficking was a non-bailable offence. That evening, only one of the girls turned up for work, and she had to be taken to hospital for treatment. Apparently, the girls were all adults, and the NBI officers had then beaten them to compel them to swear affidavits saying that they were engaged in prostitution. This girl was willing to retract her affidavit, but the other two girls were in fear of the NBI, and had fled Angeles. 

"If there is a raid, do not make any affidavit," Mama warned the girls, "You must wait our lawyer and he will speak with you."

"But, what if they beat us like they do with the Angel's Wand girls?" asked one.

"Do not make an affidavit. Ask for our lawyer. If they think you are ignorant provincial girls, they will beat you. If you say you have a lawyer they will leave you alone. Say you will wait the lawyer, and then you make the affidavit. They do not want you to make an affidavit that they beat you."

The other piece of news that evening was that President Arroyo was to visit Angeles. She would open a prestigious new hotel and casino complex, the Raphael, on the Mimosa estate, a recognition of the hoped for prosperity conferred by the Special Economic Zone status.

"I want to see the President," said Blen. "I will go to the hotel and I will shout, maybe she will hear my voice."

"We can all go," said Amor. "I would like to see the President also. When we go home we can say that we have seen the President."

That night, Nick and Blen lay on his bed, intertwined, and lost in their own thoughts.

"Why can't you be like a normal girl and lose your cherry to a hairbrush? Why did I fall in love with a girl who can choose between a sadistic Nazi, a balloon catheter, and a unicorn?" murmured Nick.

"Because God punish you, because you go in the church to pick up girls," Blen murmured back.

"Do you think, if I promised to put a lot of money in the Charity Box, he would remove his curse?" 

"If God is a Filipino he will take your bribe," said Blen, "but I do not think he is a Filipino."

As they assembled in the lady-house to go to see the President, the girls grew quite excited. Desbilla was remote from everywhere. The highest public officer they would ever see was the barangay captain. Now they were close to the heart of the government. They had seen the president on TV, but to see her in real life, to stand close to her, maybe to appear in the same photograph as her, that would be a tale to tell when they went home. 

Nick had his camera to record the event, and promised to try to capture them in the same shot with the President. This would be the first time they had visited the Mimosa Leisure Estate to the north west of the airport. There, there were casinos, golf courses, and tech-parks, and all the infrastructure of a tiger economy coiled to take off and transform Angeles City into a modern commercial and technocratic hub. This coiled spring had however remained coiled, and after failed investments, the plan had morphed into marrying high-end rest and recreation structures on Mimosa, to the low-end rest and recreation infrastructure of Balibago. The airport had attracted new flights, but they carried investors who headed for the bars of Balibago rather than the tech-parks. 

"What will you say to the President?" asked Girlie.

"I will ask why she just go in Mimosa to open a casino, why she does not go in St Nino to open a clinic, or a barangay well. Why is there a golf course for foreigners but no house for the Filipinos? Who can we ask if she does not keep her promise? She is President. If she cannot make our life better, why is she there? Anyone can steal my money. I do not need a President for that."

"Maybe it is best if we will not go too close," said Girlie.

Travelling by trike and jeepney, they made their way up past Air Force City to the new hotel complex. Security was strict, clearly, a large gathering was discouraged, and, had they not been with Nick, they would have been turned away hundreds of yards from the hotel. They joined a small and orderly throng - many were press photographers - and waited. The President was already inside, and the opening ceremony was taking place out of public view. The clouds drew in, and it grew dark. Another typhoon was heading towards Luzon, and the dark skies, which began to let fall a steady rain, presaged its approach. Soon the crowd stood in puddles.

Suddenly the police and guards bristled, standing alert and looking around. The President was coming out. Nick prepared his camera, and stood back, waving the girls to a good vantage point. Blen spotted a gap in the security, and stepped into it to pose. But, as Nick raised his camera to take the shot, a large hand pushed Blen backwards, sprawling into a puddle.

Nick got his shot. As the president waved toward her, Blen splashed in the mud, unseen and unheard.

The following evening, Typhoon Cimaron, the second super-typhoon in two months, made landfall on northeast Luzon. On Monday, it tracked over the mountainous and more sparsely populated districts to the north, so the destruction and loss of life was less than for Milenyo. Angeles was further from its centre than it had been from Milenyo's, and the winds were less fierce, but the inundations were much the same.

On Tuesday, as the girls assembled in the sala at the beginning of their day, the clouds began to break up, and beams of sunshine penetrated the soft rain shed by the drying atmosphere, sending a rainbow arcing across the sky. The major electrical generation plant had not failed on this occasion, and the brownouts were local and of short duration, typical of the rainy season. 

Pots and pans were emptied, puddled water mopped up, and soon the house was restored to its normal comfort. Blen arrived with Nick; it was now their habit to come over in late morning bringing a contribution to breakfast. Since Nick was hoarding every peso, he refrained from any activity involving expense, and this visit to the lady-house was the social highlight of his day. The girls liked him, but he thought it wise always to bring something to share with Blen's housemates, by way of rent, in return for their forbearance. After Blen had exchanged gossip and clothes, and made plans with the others, she and Nick would walk - anywhere and everywhere - taking in the sights, exploring the city. Often, Amor would accompany them.

As they walked up Malabanias Road, there was a loud explosion. People in the street stopped and scanned the horizon for rising smoke, but none appeared.

"That sounded like a bomb," said Nick.

"But there is no Abu Sayyaf here," said Blen.

"There have been many bombs in Mindanao," said Amor.

"I've been reading in the papers that there have been threats to target tourist areas," said Nick, "maybe they've begun."

They scanned the horizon towards Balibago, but there was no telltale puff of smoke dissolving into the sky. The three continued on their walk, looping around, and walking back down Perimeter Road towards Field's Avenue. They passed down the top of Field's at about five, passing Angel's Wand, and as they approached the fork there were police erecting barriers to prevent traffic from entering. Passing down towards MacArthur Highway there was general confusion and consternation. 

Daddy Don stood outside Talent Spot. "I have no fucking idea what's happening. No one's been told about this. We don't know why, we don't know for how long," he blustered.

"Maybe it was that bomb," said Blen.

"People are talking about a fucking bomb; I haven't heard a bomb, or seen any sign of a fucking bomb."

"We hear the bomb when we are up on Malabanias. It was maybe two hours ago."

"What did you see?" asked Daddy.

"Nothing. We hear the bang."

"It may have been a car backfiring then. Don't go talking about a fucking bomb you haven't fucking seen, you'll scare all the fucking customers away. If a customer asks, just say it's been on the cards for a long time, a walking area for tourists."

Nick and Amor continued on to the bottom of Fields, and then the lady-house. An hour later they walked back up to MacArthur, where Nick turned left to his hotel, and the gaggle of girls crossed and headed for Talent Spot.

By the time they started work, the rumour mill had picked up, exaggerated, and was circulating the most lurid explanations. Apparently, the closure of the entertainment area to traffic had been ordered from Manila that afternoon. The mayor had formulated an emergency plan with the Angeles police and some TAAC members, who had been summoned on short notice. Now, police of the Regional Mobile Group were arriving to provide a heavily armed guard to man the barriers and scrutinise the pedestrians passing through.

No official would confirm or deny it, so the assumption was that there was hard evidence of an intended bomb attack against the tourist district of Balibago. Customers found this explanation more consistent with today's events than it being a sudden implementation of a long planned pedestrianisation project. For three days, the customers stayed away, preferring to take their chances up Perimeter Road where normality prevailed. It was the worse period Daddy had ever experienced, and he made serious plans to lay off girls and run Talent Spot as a shoestring operation until the future became clear. But, by Friday night, the explosion had been explained; an illegal firecracker factory had exploded, injuring six but killing none, a common enough event in the Philippines. Once the traffic had been reorganised, and the barriers given a more permanent form that did not smack of panic, the security measures gave a feeling of reassurance, and the customers were glad to return to their old haunts.

Although, at the weekend, Talent Spot returned to its normal level of low season business, there were many businesses that were more dependent on customers having transport, and because no provision had been made for local parking, they continued to suffer. Talent Spot had traditionally been reached on foot by bar hoppers, so the effect was minimal.

Two clouds now hung over the entertainment district; the belief that terrorists had chosen Balibago as a target, with the disruption to trade that that entailed, and the continued detention of the three Mama-sans from Angel's Wand. Feelings ran high in the hospitality trade on account of both issues. The bar managers were dead against any measures which further depressed trade, and the Mama-san's were outraged that they could be targeted for extortion by the NBI, beating their girls to fabricate affidavits when they were found completely in compliance with the guidelines. Although both groups preferred to work discretely through back channels, on this occasion, both felt it necessary to act openly, through the civic processes. 

Halloween provided a lift in the mood on Field's Avenue. Every bar had a Halloween party, and was decked out in pumpkins, witches paraphernalia and ghostly balloons. Halloween had a great appeal for customers and the girls. It was a national festival, being a religious event also, and the imagery and costumes drew the customers out in droves to enjoy the gala event. 

Blen and Amor were dressed as little devils, and assigned to dance centre stage. 

Since the guidelines were still being strictly followed, their costumes were prepared with great care to ensure that, without actually displaying nipples or pussy, as little of their bodies as possible was covered. With horns worn on their heads, in one hand they carried a triton, and in the other, the arrowhead end of a tail attached to the back of their thongs. Short capes hung from their shoulders, tiny flame shaped pieces of fabric covered their nipples and their thongs plunged to the base of their smoothly shaven pudendas, stopping just short of their vaginas. All the costume was in red, and they wore matching red boots. 

Mama felt that this was as much visual interest as she could provide without falling foul of the guidelines. She instructed Amor and Blen to dance all their set, without sitting out for ladies drinks or early release bar-fines; in return they would get an extra ladies share. Two girls from Set B were revealingly clad as witches and given similar instructions.

It was a long evening, but profitable for Talent Spot. The customers came out in numbers, and were in a festive mood; ladies drinks flowed, and some girls were bar-fined. Blen and Amor's costumes proved very popular, and between sets, they would pose with customers who wanted a photograph of themselves with the girls for their holiday scrapbooks.

A couple of nights later, Daddy scored another coup. A party of twelve rowdy young men in their early thirties came in. Daddy went over to glad-hand them, and found they had come from Canada for a stag party. One of their number was getting married, and they chose Angeles as the ideal venue for this event. The organiser confided that he was a little disappointed because Angeles was not like he remembered it from his previous visit a few years before and he had built up the guys' expectations, only for things to fall a little flat.

Daddy had a word with Mama to see if there was something they could do. He offered this deal: if the guys partied in Talent Spot until closing time he would lock everyone in, then they could have a no holds barred party, and they could all take back one of his girls for the usual bar-fine. After a talk among themselves they agreed, and proved to be an open-handed bunch, there to celebrate and make the ladies drinks flow. 

At two-am the signage was taken in, the door girls withdrawn and, with 'Closed' marked across it, the front door was shut and locked from within. From outside, Talent Spot appeared closed, and the music was masked by the music from the late bars.

Inside, Daddy took the microphone to wish the prospective groom well, and declare his stag party open. Mama moved among the girls, instructing them to go topless. Some took off their tops, some just lifted their breasts out of their cups.

Blen, back in her role as shooters girl, stripped off her top. 

As she approached, the first table to invite body shots' Daddy spoke to her. "The waitress'll fetch a couple more bottles and glasses. Tell them it's body shots on Daddy Don. Get some girls lined up; some of theses guys are newbies, so show them how to do a body shot."

Blen enlisted Amor to help, and with difficulty got the attention of the first partying group. "This game is called body shot," she called, "I will show you how to do it." She poured a tequila shot and gave it to Amor, then took the lemon slice and juiced her own nipples. "Now you watch with Amor."

Amor salted the upturned surface of her left fist, and with her right hand slammed the shot glass on the table, and shot-gunned it, immediately licking the salt off her fist and fastening her mouth onto Blen's nipple, first her left then her right, slowly and sensuously sucking away the lemon juice. As they moved to the next group for a second demonstration, the waitresses were already placing glasses on the table and pouring shots as girls queued excitedly.




Bar Girl Ch. 13



The body shots proved immensely popular, twenty minutes later six tequila bottles were empty and every girl in the bar had received a body shot. This rapid intake of alcohol by a party who were already inebriated led to greater excess.

Mama told Blen and Amor to change into their twin costumes and do their headline dancing. When they arrived on stage, some girls were already naked. As Blen wriggled her gusset into her vulva, to expose the crinkly brown margins of her inner lips, one of the partygoers leaned towards her, tongue hanging out.

"Eat.. Eat.. Eat," his friends began to chant.

Blen teased him, moving near, then away; then she removed her thong and moved towards him and, with one knee propped against the stage bar and the other foot placed on top of it, she pulled his face into her crotch. As he lapped away at her pussy, to the delight of the audience she feigned ecstasy. A number of his friends came over and queued; other girls hurried up to the edge of the stage, and offered themselves. Soon twelve heads were bobbing on twelve crotches.

After this, the atmosphere grew licentious. The guys groped and fingered the girls, and the girls flaunted themselves, some pulling out the guys' penises to play with, some licking them or briefly sucking on them teasingly. As they sat there with their penises poking up, girls offered to sit on their laps for only 100 pesos. Money changed hands, and soft bums slipped onto eager laps, enveloping the twitching penises in their warm wet vaginas. To titillate, but not stimulate to ejaculation, the girls sat absolutely still, teasingly clenching and unclenching their vaginal muscles.

One of the guys called for a sex show. His companions seized the prospective groom and carried him to the stage; a chair was passed up and he was seated in it, not far from unconscious, still aware and blissful, but unable to resist. Marivic took up the baton, and danced around him, garment by garment removing his clothes. With the assistance of a couple of other girls, she removed his shorts and briefs, and he sat there, bashful and naked, with his penis pointing at the ceiling.

Marivic continued to dance around him, stroking and teasing, touching his penis and moving away. Finally, she knelt before him and took him into her mouth, gripping him firmly at the base of the penis. Before he approached orgasm, she tightened her grip to suppress ejaculation, then resumed her dance. Stepping across his knees, she sat facing him on his lap, sliding her vagina over his penis, then raised and lowered her hips, fast enough to promise, but not fast enough to fulfil. Leaving him inflamed, she resumed dancing flirtatiously around him for a while before straddling his lap one more time, now facing the front, again sheathing his tumescence with her velvet vagina. She moved slowly up and down, rubbing her clitoris delicately with her forefinger, panting and pouting at her audience. This was her finale; she faked orgasm, and slumped forward onto the stage, leaving her victim sitting priapic behind her. Her performance was received with a cacophony of cheers and calls for more from the girls as well as the guys.

Others then proffered themselves or were pushed forward, and several girls lined up to imitate Marivic's dance.

"Do not let them come," Marivic quietly advised her colleagues, "if they come they will not bar-fine."

By 6am in the morning the guys were burnt out, but frustrated and unfulfilled. Fifteen girls were taken out by the lads; one was not enough, for some of them. Blen left to join Nick, and Girlie and Amor went with their bar-fines to their hotels.

After the excesses of the stag party, the weekend appeared tame. On Saturday night, Mama reminded Blen that the Masters of Uranus met the following day and arranged to collect her from the lady-house. With Amor, Blen again went through her experience with the Masters, Amor advising her that the best way was to relax and submit. Little would be required of her, except to be pleasured after the fashion of the Masters. 

"It is like Mama tell you, it is a game, it is their fantasy, they want you to enjoy."

That night, in Nick's room, Blen said to him, "When I come tomorrow night you can fuck my ass. I will not be a cherry ass no more. Will you enjoy it?" 

"Enjoy it, I'll give you 10,000 pesos and fuck your ass right now."

"Why do you like the ass?" asked Blen.

"Because the ass is for recreation," Nick, echoed her own words, "and I'd like to spend some quality time with you. I love to eat your pussy, and I love to have you give me head, but my body craves to fuck you. I want to mount you, and hump you, and empty my balls into you." 

"But, in the ass you cannot make babies."

"No, but you can practise in safety, and I want to start practising to make babies with you," said Nick.

"When will we make babies?" asked Blen.

"When we are married."

"Then you must buy my cherry," Blen reminded him.

"I have a plan," Nick assured her, "I still have first-refusal, remember. All I need is cash, for one minute, for the minute when payment is due."

"I hope it is a good plan."

"It's foolproof." Nick spoke confidently.

By midday on Sunday, Blen had been to Mass, returned to the lady-house, and Mama had collected her. As they drew away in the trike Mama sought to reassure her.

"I have organise the Masters for four years. When my husband die, I miss him so much ... and his little preferences. But, the Masters is like the excitement he give to me. My husband treasure me. These guys are the same, they treasure their girls. They are silly, but they are happy, and they are generous. It is therapy for their minds. Their minds are injure somewhere in their life, these practises comfort their injuries and make them happy. You will see, there are girls also who enjoy to comfort the Masters this way."

"I would like to be a nurse, but not to comfort the mind," said Blen.

"I also have to accept my second best, that is the fate of the poor, but do not resent it, accept your opportunities and enjoy it. If you can eat straw and enjoy, you will have more happiness than a rich man that can eat pork, and complain it is not beef."

"I will try," said Blen.

"We do not go to the Old Bore today. We must be careful. We go to a place which is close a long time. The NBI will not raid there," Mama told her.

...The trike arrived at a boarded building that had been a hotel or club in the past. Mama knocked and waited. The door to the darkened interior was opened by a Filipino. A dull light glowed in the corridor opposite. The Filipino pointed, and Mama and Blen followed the corridor, emerging into a large bright room. Tables and seating were being erected, and other girls, mostly older than those who worked in the bars, waited. Blen recognised some of them as having accompanied Amor back to Talent Spot..

William was organising the preparations and welcomed Mama and Blen. "So you're our special lady tonight. I'll see you enjoy our ceremony as much as we do ... and maybe you'll come back again and be one of our regular girls."

"OK," said Blen, still nervous, though a little emboldened by the sight of the other girls, who appeared happy to indulge the Masters.

He indicated a side room, "Mama, get the girls costumed, everything is through there;I have Blen's costume, I'll bring it through shortly."

Mama clapped her hands to summon the girls, and led them through to the side room which contained a hamper and a dressing mirror. Mama opened the hamper and began to distribute costumes to some of the girls. Others had brought their own garments and props.

"This is important, for this enjoyment it is necessary to clean the bowel," Mama told Blen, "You must use this. I will show you how." She produced an anal douche still in its package, and took Blen to the CR, where other girls were already preparing themselves. "This will be yours, it is a gift. You must take it when you go with your 3-hole customers." Mama removed it from the packaging, filled a hand basin with water, immersed the douche, and squeezed to fill and empty it. Having given it a good wash, she emptied and refilled the basin. "Now it is ready to use. Squeeze the bulb and put it under the water, then let go of the bulb, it will suck in water, keep doing it until it is full - then we will go into the CR." Mama took her into a cubicle. "Take off you jeans and briefs, and stand in front of the CR, and bend forward."

Blen did.

"Now take the douche and press the nozzle into your anus, then squeeze the bulb."

Blen complied. The nozzle of the douche was hard, and was the first object ever to pass into her anus. It passed through easily and slid in a couple of inches. When the bulb was squeezed Blen felt the cold jet tickle against her bowel, and the pleasure of controlled retention as her bowel filled.

"Now, sit down and empty your bowel," Mama continued, "If the water is not clean do it again."

After the pleasure of retention Blen enjoyed the pleasure of release.

Thus prepared, they returned to the changing room.

Blen listened to the chatter. It was of husbands and children and schools, and all the small change of life. The girls were light hearted and unconcerned, and Blen noticed the incongruity as these girls transformed themselves from typical young housewives into exotic sex robots. They made up their faces extravagantly, or wore masks and donned revealing costumes in leather or PVC. Metal studs peppered their attire, or studded the collars around their necks, breasts were compressed or clamped, some bound by ligatures pulled tight, causing them to swell into taut blue and red mottled spheres jutting flamboyantly from their chests. Some clamped their nipples with pegs, or gripped coat hangers onto them by their crocodile clips, some even sported piercings in their breasts and labia.

One engaged Blen in conversation. She had worked in Talent Spot, and had married three years ago. She had two children, and this was her first Masters' meet since giving birth to her second child.

"I rotate with my husband. One month he will come and the next month I will come."

"Are you happy to be married?" asked Blen.

"Of course. My husband is so kind to me. We have a nice house and now two beautiful kids. My life is complete."

Blen paused to picture herself, in a few years time, living with Nick and their children, sharing visits to the Masters.

Eventually William came through.

He handed a grip to Mama, "This is Blen's costume for today, I'll help you with it, I know exactly how I like these things."

"Undress now, Blen," instructed Mama, and Blen disrobed.

The first item William took from the grip was a corset sheathed with vertically overlapping polished chrome plates. It fitted between Blen's hips and ribs, like a metal can. Inside the plates was a conventional cloth corset, which conformed to the shape of Blen's waist. Mama laced it tight, and the chrome plates pulled together. William then attached a hand pump to the end of a protruding nozzle, and pumped. Blen felt bladders expand between the corset and plates, pressing in on her intestines, and out against the plates, fixing them rigid. Next she was given high heeled boots with a shiny metallic finish up to the knees, but with soft extensions that enclosed her thighs and laced up three inches below her crotch.

William then produced a yoke with extensions on either side. He closed and locked it around Blen's neck where it rested on a soft leather collar. Blen's arms were stretched out on either side, and her wrists locked into the cuffs at each end of the yoke. When Blen relaxed her arms, they hung comfortably, with the weight distributed to her shoulders by the soft collar. Then he produced a complicated harness, which he pulled over her head, and buckled under her chin.

William adjusted the component parts. He inserted the ball gag into Blen's mouth, and pulled it tight. The ball was perforated, and Blen could easily breathe through it. He inserted hooks into the corners of her mouth, and fastened them back, pulling her mouth wide. Hooks were inserted into her nostrils, and again adjusted to pull her button nose up and widen her nostrils.

The last items he produced were two clear plastic cones and a test tube shaped tube, with airlines protruding from the apex of each. After a metre, the airlines joined and led to a hand pump. William asked Mama to press one cone over each of Blen's breasts. He placed the tube over Blen's clitoris, and pumped. This time, air was sucked from the cones and tube, to form vacuums. Blen felt her breasts being sucked forward and expanding, and her clitoris creep from under its hood. Mama could see Blen's nipples darken, expand and lengthen. In the tube she saw Blen's clitoral hood rise, and peel back, to reveal her clitoris, which enlarged and strained outward.

When William completed his final adjustments, Mama faced her toward the mirror.

Blen looked curiously at her reflection; her face was distorted into a piggish grimace, with the ball gag placed like the traditional apple, in the mouth of the pig. Her outstretched arms carried her shoulders high, which in turn raised her breasts, which bulged softly beyond the flesh sucked hard against the clear plastic. Her clitoris was extruded into the tube, the curvature magnifying it, so it seemed to be one inch thick. This clear plastic, penis-like appendage, was joined by one of three tubular loops, which arced back to her waist, where William had secured the union. From there, a single tube led to a holster on the left of the chrome-plated corset, where the hand pump was placed.

William took the pump from its holster, and squeezed it a few times. "If the vacuum starts to fail, just pump a few times like that, until it is restored," he told Mama.

Blen could not speak, but she could see the other girls gathered around, admiring her. They had costumes which rendered them strange and alien, perhaps their alter egos, but none was as strange and compelling to the eye as hers.

William was pleased, "I think that works well. You look sensational Blen."

Now that Mama knew the set up, Blen was released from her costume until nearer the time for her appearance.

While waiting for their turns, the girls chatted. Most of the girls had worked in the bars, and were now married or had boyfriends. Most had children. One or two had worked inJapan. All enjoyed the Masters meets. They looked forward to them as social outings, because they knew the Masters, and it was as much a club for the girls as the Masters. They also liked the money. It was rare to be able to pick up a couple of thousand pesos for a couple of hours work. The girls, who had learned specialist skills, recommended this to Blen. There was always a demand for pussy shows, and one who had lived inEuropesaid she could have worked seven days a week. In two years, she had bought two houses and a farm in the province, and amassed a fortune in her bank account. She was caught with an expired visa, and sent home. But, she never needed to work again, and now lived with her boyfriend in Angeles, and only did the Masters' meet for her own amusement.

"Why is it you make up like that, and wear the costumes?" asked Blen.

"That is because we are different people. When we come here, we are different people, we transform, the costume help us transform our mind. Also we have different names. It set us free. Here we do not need permission, we do what we like, and no one to criticise. I have my makeup, my costume, my charms and my name, then I am a different person, and when it is finish, I change back."

"Do you like my costume?" asked Blen.

"Yes, it is beautiful," the girl agreed.

"But my face is ugly, I look alien."

"It is not beauty of the body; it is beauty of the soul. Here there is no, more beautiful, or less beautiful, here we are all beautiful, the same beauty. That is why we transform. It is transformation of the mind."

"Do you have a new name for your new person?" asked another.

"I have not thought," said Blen.

"If you have a name, it will help you, then you can be that person."

When Mama came to prepare her, she told her, "Today, I am Princess Butt-Slut."

"That is a good name. Today will go well," said Mama.

Mama tightened Blen's corset, and then, as Blen held the cones over her breasts, applied the tube, and pumped the hand pump until Blen's organs were sucked securely into the evacuated vessels. She fastened the yoke around Blen's neck, and secured her hands in the cuffs. Finally, she fastened the harness over her head, inserted the ball gag in her mouth, and hooks into mouth and nostrils, pulling her face out of shape.

"Just walk slowly where I lead you, and do exactly what you are told. I will lead you around the room for the Masters to examine, then deliver you to William, who will prepare your to lose your ass cherry."

She clipped a chain to the yoke, and led her towards the doorway. Blen moved very slowly, step by deliberate step. Her heels were high, and she raised her head and straightened her back to move her weight into balance over the heels. She feared falling; with her arms yoked, she could not break her fall. Her anxiety showed in her eyes, and her breathing through the ball gag and and distorted nostrils was laboured.

As they entered, Blen could see tables arranged in a crescent on the long axis of the room, and behind the tables sat twenty or so, identically white robed and hooded men. Each man wore a different mask, some elaborate and grotesque, some blank with eyeholes, some simply of reflective material, like reflective sunglasses. Her appearance was greeted by appreciative applause. Blen's nervously darting eyes, heaving chest, and hesitant steps, were the perfect complement to her costume, which epitomised enslavement and exploitation. Mama led her to the centre of their view.

"This is Princess Butt-Slut - your cherry ass girl."

She then rotated Blen slowly, for all to see. Next, she was led to one end of the crescent and presented to the table, then led around to where the Masters sat. They examined her closely, stroking and slapping her buttocks, running their fingers over her distorted face, or pumping the hand pump. In this manner, she passed from table to table down the crescent. While she was at the last table, the other Masters moved to make preparations.

Two tables were moved into the centre of the room, and chairs were arranged in front of it. Cushions were piled on one table, and a variety of devices and tubes were arranged on the other.

As the Masters sat themselves before the tables, Mama led Blen to stand in front of the table on which lay the cushions. "Now, Master William will train you," Mama whispered, and unclipped the lead, then moved away.

Blen looked around at the beings ranged before her. As with the girls, they did not have gradations of age or beauty. The robes and hoods were simple and white, only the masks gave them separate identity. The masks did not change expression, so, as they examined Blen, she could read only dispassionate curiosity, whatever the lustful or greedy eyes that lurked behind the masks. She felt like one alien specimen, captured, and prepared for examination by other aliens.

William took charge of her. He was a large and charismatic man with a deep, relaxing voice, and strong hands. Even in her high-heeled boots, Blen did not reach to his shoulders, and standing next to him she felt small and vulnerable.

"Today we have Princess Butt-slut," said William, "She has consented to sacrifice her butt cherry to us. Let the ceremony begin." He rotated Blen to face the table, and arranged cushions before her. He then pushed her to the edge and bent her forward, laying her torso on the cushions which he adjusted so her plastic encased breasts fitted into the spaces between them. They comfortably supported her head, arms and ribcage. Her naked buttocks faced the Masters, and Blen closed her eyes and readied herself to endure the unseen impertinances to be perpetrated against the nether end of her body.




Bar Girl Ch. 13



She felt her right ankle being cuffed, then her legs forced apart, and her left ankle also secured. They were now held apart, she guessed, like her hands, by a spar. . Almost immediately, hands grasped her buttocks and she felt her ass cheeks stretched apart to expose her anus to her public.

How neat, how tight, is that?" intoned William, "But, how can we make this ass even prettier and more inviting? I think some colour." He proceeded to deliverd a well-aimed slap to her buttocks and the loud crack of iron hand on soft flesh echoed through the room to the appreciative murmur of his audience. Blen started at the noise, but was surprised that, although the slap produced a loud report, she felt no pain or discomfort, merely a tingle in her buttocks, which warmed pleasantly. For several minutes William continued to spank her with great deliberation, each blow arriving at irregular intervals so she could not anticipate its impact. After twenty or thirty slaps she could feel the warm glow from her red, inflamed flesh. He then parted her buttocks again, and this time sought out her anus and began to massage it with his finger. He pressed until she clenched her reddening buttocks

"See how little our Princes blushes," said William, "We deserve more. We confer on her the most shameful improprities and she blushes only a little. This girl deserves the whip." Blen tensed at the sound of the tails swishing menacingly through the air, but when they cut her flesh, they were light and caressing, and served only to enliven the nerve endings in her skin. He worked from the top of her thighs to the pit of her spine, covering every inch of flesh.

"Now you do us justice. There's no rosier apple in city market," said William, "but still we need a pattern."

Blen could hear the vicious sound of a cane whipped back and forth. As it grew closer she felt the disturbance of the air against her rump. There was a pause, then a violent "Whuuump." Blen grunted, jerked and tried to pull away. Her back arched and her torso jerked upward a foot then fell back., but her struggle served only to rock the table a little. The initial stroke passed within a millimetre of her flesh. This was repeated two, three, four times, Blen reacting less on each occasion, beginning to think this was only theatre. On the fifth stroke William struck home. Blen convulsed, throwing her torso violently upward causing the table to bounce, her cry stifled by the gag. There was a pause before the next cut. Again Blen convulsed. Now the strokes arrived at regular intervals of about five seconds. Blen could count the interval and anticipate the blow, convulsing before cane met flesh, and again after, the table tapping out a double beat against the floor. These strokes were firm and stingy, numbing the flesh, but causing only psychological pain and heightening her senses as if cold water had been poured over her. The streaks of numbness gave way to streaks of warmth, and Blen became aware that welts were being systematically raised. She was also aware from the appreciative murmurs how much her writhing entertained the Masters. Swish - grunt - tap - thwack - grunt - tap. Before and after each stroke Blen screamed through the ball gag, bucked, clenched and wriggled her buttocks, but her pinioned limbs prevented her from avoiding the strokes. 

William continued to deliver strokes for what seemed to Blen an interminable time. The effort of straining against her fetters exhausted her, her convulsions became weaker and a thick layer of perspiration glistened on her body. When finally she lay still, to weak even to flinch, William ceased.

"Now, that our Princess's ass looks beautiful in its new makeup, I shall open her eye," he announced.

Blen felt cool and gelatinous lotion extruded onto her arse, and William's finger massage it around her rose. As he circled, the pressure of his finger increased, and slowly it began to sink into her anus, which parted, then clung to his fingertip. Working it back and forth, he applied more lubricant, and it edged its way through her sphincter until, emerging at the other side, the passage ahead being clear, his finger slid right in. She felt her anal sphincter relax to adjust to this intrusion. William then started with a second finger and worked his way in. Again, Blen's sphincter adjusted to comfortably accommodate William's fingers. William moved his fingers slowly, allowing her sphincter time to accommodate painlessly, circling, pulling and pushing.

Blen focused on controlling her sphincter. As she learned that the intrusions were friendly and not painful, she willed her sphincter to relax. Before an insertion, William would ease her buttock cheeks apart to telegraph his intent. When he introduced anal beads, she relaxed her sphincter as each bead passed in and out, allowing it to close up as the bead passed. The objects grew larger and larger. An anal plug passed in with difficulty, but passed out more easily. Blen's anus grew sensitised, and as she focused, she strained against the objects willing her sphincter to relax, and as they pressed through, enjoyed the strange new tinglings that radiated to parts of her body never previously stimulated.

Finally, William inserted a well-lubricated rubbery object, which lodged against Blen's anus, held by an external collar. She then heard the hissing of compressed air, as William pumped. The object began to grow. Blen relaxed. William continued to pump. The object continued to swell, and prise open her anus. Blen felt it continue to fill and enlarge, until it fully occupied her rectum. Try as she might, she could relax her sphincter no more, and it would stretch no further; she anxiously twitched her hips, and William stopped.

"We are ready. The Princess is prepared," he said.

For what seemed minutes, he left Blen to control her sphincter at its limits, seeking to relax it, resisting the reflexive impulse to spit it out until she lay still having discovered the pleasure of controlled retention. He then pressed the release button, and the object deflated, allowing him to pull it, effortlessly, from her anus.

"I can now show you the Princess's eye, in full make up."

Blen's felt her cheeks pulled apart and her sphincter push and relax reflexively in response. Without her needing to will it, her anus opened. The Masters gazed approvingly as her moist, plum coloured eye opened at the centre of her red, vividly welted, ass. Blen felt cool air on her rectum, and a thrilling frisson raised the hair on her neck as butterflies rose as a cloud in her stomach.

"Master Thor, you have been elected, come forward and consummate the ceremony," said William.

"Blen heard shifting of seats and feet, and then footsteps approached her up-tilted rear. Lubricant was poured on her anus, and worked in by expert fingers. She felt the tip of a warm fleshen rod nestle against her, and appreciated how much more natural it felt than the hard cool objects that had previously invaded her, bringing its own heat, and its own pulse. Her rectum readily accepted and enclosed it, and it began to move rhythmically in the rising crescendo typical of coitus. The faster he moved, rocking her against the table, the more intense the stimulation of the nerves in her anus, and the further these strange new tingles radiated into her bowels. The table rocked as Master Thor's groin bounced off her bottom. Captivated by the motion and rhythm Blen lost herself in these new, strange, yet pleasurable sensations.

The rocking table began to hop backwards as Master Thor's groin impacted increasingly forcefully on her. He jerked his hips several times, clutching the table to prevent Blen being pushed clear of his penis and she felt him spasm in her rectum, then he relaxed and withdrew. The Masters applauded and cheered, and congratulated Master Thor, and for the moment, Blen seemed to be forgotten. She lay turning over events in her mind, with her pouting anus dribbling semen, powerless to move, experiencing mixed feelings of triumph and relief, like a student after a final exam,

After a few minutes, attention again turned to her.

"And, now, Princess Butt-Slut, we award you, this emblem of your new status. Wear this tail with pride," intoned William.

Blen felt a plug press into, and lodge in her anus, and the brush of strands against her thighs. She realised she had been awarded a tail, as Amor had been.

Then the cuff was removed from her left ankle, and she was raised from the table, again back in the charge of Mama, who clipped the chain back on her collar.

"The Masters wish to see your face when they enjoy you. It is unusual," said Mama, "We will arrange you specially, today."

Mama led Blen, teetering, into the CR. Several girls with cushions accompanied her. Blen was taken into a cubicle, and cushions placed on the closed seat. Her corset was deflated and loosened to allow her waist to bend, then she was seated, and tipped backwards, cushions being inserted to support her. The spacer, which had been attached to her legs, was passed behind the downpipe above her, and her ankles again secured in the cuffs,leaving her legs now doubled back over her body. Mama arranged the spacer, and tied it to the down pipe. She then adjusted Blen's costume, cinching the corset in its new position, and pumping to restore the fading vacuum. She ensured that the vessels enclosing Blen's breasts and clitoris fitted well and were symmetrically arranged, then tidied the air lines and secured them in place. When she felt Blen was presented in an aesthetic tableaux, she stood back to admire her work.

Blen's spread legs were secured, spaced apart, above her head. Her grotesque face appeared between her knees, and before her face, her bluing breast stretched into the evacuated cones. Either side of her knees, her yoked arms stretched out. In the foreground, the test tube containing her bloated and magnified clitoris stood erect like a flag above her vulva. Beneath her vulva, a crimson tail hung down from the butt plug lodged in the centre of her bright red, blue and purple welted cheeks. Satisfied that this scene would meet the approval of the Masters, Mama stepped forward and eased the plug from Blen's anus and watched it gape eagerly. Satisfied, she replaced it.

"There is one more thing," said Mama.

She took a panty liner, tore off a length, and applied it over Blen's vulva. With a red marker pen, she then drew a 'No Entry' sign on it. "I do not want an accident. Now you are ready. Princess Butt-Slut, you will make a lot of money today."

Confined and unable to move, with no sensory diversion, Blen could only close her eyes and drift off into a shallow slumber that was periodically interrupted as her butt plug was removed.

Over the next couple of hours, one by one, sixteen of the Masters stood before Blen, threw a 1000p note on the floor, lubricated their penis, bent to uncork her anus and impaled themselves in her welcoming bowel. Finally Mama came to announce the end of the event. She removed her butt plug and Blen clenched her buttocks extruding a foaming slurry of semen that ran down onto the toilet cover and overflowed onto the floor. Once her costume was removed, she returned to the changing room , no longer a cherry-ass, but nursing her sore anus which she planned to put to profitable use.



Bar Girl Ch. 14



Chapter 14. 'Miss Cherry-Pie.'

Master Thor's cunning. Bar Girl Murdered. Miss Cherry-Pie and Mr Chew. Typhoon Queenie. A Wu-pu, an illusionist and a unicorn.

After returning with Mama to Talent Spot, Blen compared experiences with Amor. 

"Seventeen guys," said Amor in amazement, as Blen counted out her notes, "I am sore for two days with fourteen guys; how will you sit down? I could not sit down." 

In fact, Blen avoided sitting for the rest of the evening. 

"Soon I will be a three-holer," said Blen. "When will you learn the blow-job?"

"How will I learn? I do not like it."

"Bit by bit, like with the ass. I do not think I will like the ass, but bit by bit, and I like it. I will ask Nick. We can practise together."

"I will try it," agreed Amor. "We can practise at the lady-house."

When Nick collected her from reception, Blen could see the curiosity in his eyes.

After she had showered, and settled with him on the bed, he could contain himself no longer.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Very good," said Blen. "Now I am Princess Butt-Slut. But you must wait my ass. I am sore. I am very busy today."

"How busy?" 

Blen leaned over, took her roll from her pocket and counted the notes as she placed them on the bed.

"Jesus! Seventeen guys! No wonder you're sore. Can I see?"

"Be careful. Just part my ass open, but do not touch." Blen knelt on the bed and raised her hips.

"Fuck. What have they done? Have they hurt you?" Nick exclaimed on seeing her glowing red and vividly welted buttocks.

"No, it do not hurt, it feel good, but just part my ass."

Nick knelt behind her, and parted her cheeks. Blen felt her sphincter relax and, as her anus opened, the cool air on her exposed rectal tissue once more. Nick whistled as her crimson anus yawned toothlessly at him.

"Do you like?" asked Blen.

He took her trailing arm and wrapped her hand around his engorged and stiffened penis. "That's how much I like it."

"You like it a lot. Maybe tomorrow you can try. Now I give you a blow-job."

"First tell me about your seventeen guys. What happened?" said Nick.

As they lay back in an intimate embrace, Blen began, "I was an alien today, and I have alien sex, with alien guys," and continued, with his erection gripped in her hand, pulsing and straining at each turn, until the story was complete.

On Monday morning, they were roused by Blen's cell phone. She answered with a sleepy Hello, but was jolted into alertness by the voice.

"Good morning Blen, I hope you woke as happy today, as I did." It was Bruno.

"I am happy. Why are you happy?" Blen snapped, suspecting that nothing good would make him happy.

"Did you like my garments?" 

Filled with foreboding Blen snapped, "What garments? I do not have your garments."

"Princess Butt-Sluts garments, they are also my garments, the garments I bought for you and which you said you would never wear," crowed Bruno.

Blen remained silent, her mind racing.

"You see, you enjoyed wearing those garments, and I have kept them for you, you will wear them for me many times, Princess Butt-Slut, my whore-goddess."

"But ... but ... you are in Europe," blustered Blen.

"I returned, especially for yesterday. I explained to William that we will marry, and that I wanted to take your cherry-ass, and the Masters, the sentimental bunch, agreed. I took your ass-cherry, and I enjoyed you so much I took you once more in the CR. You looked so cute, the perfect slut, with an elegant tail, packaged and presented for her Master's enjoyment. I looked into your beautiful eyes while I pumped my filth into your bowels, and I knew I could never find a better girl. Soon we will be married, and I can have you every day."

Blen could not speak. She ended the call, and sat with tears welling in her eyes.

Alerted by her silence, Nick opened his eyes and glanced at her. Seeing her tearing up, he asked, "Has something bad happened?"

"It was Bruno. He has trick me. He was Master Thor, he take my ass cherry."

Monday, was also Jesusa's first day of term in the private school. She had studied hard with her tutor for the past month, and today she was thrown into class on equal terms with the other girls. Blen had arranged to speak with Jesusa after school, and awaited a call from Rozel. Although very upset at the true nature of yesterday's events as revealed by Bruno, the knowledge that Jesusa was starting at the private school and embarking on a better life lifted her mood and dulled her anger. Whatever happened to her was unimportant. Jesusa's future was the only important thing. The 21,000 pesos she had earned yesterday would be paid into the bank to secure Jesusa's education, and Bruno's evil machinations would, in the end, improve her sister's life.

As dusk fell, her phone rang twice and stopped. It was Rozel. 

Blen called back, and Jesusa answered. After exchanging sisterly greetings, Blen got straight to the point. "How was school?" 

"It is hard, but I try," said Jesusa, "I am absent so much school. There is much I do not know." 

"But they will teach you? The teacher?"

"Yes, but I must study extra at home, the teacher cannot treat me special."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Blen grew concerned that her plan was already being derailled.

"Only if I have a private tutor, then I catch up more."

"That is what we must do. Tell me how much, and I will arrange," said a determined Blen.

When she finished the call, she imagined the 21,000 pesos already evaporating, but decided that she must do whatever was needed to fund Jesusa.

When she reported to Mama that evening, she asked accusingly, "Do you arrange for Bruno?" 

"Arrange what? What is this about Bruno?" replied Mama.

"He is back, he is there yesterday. He is Master Thor, he take my ass-cherry. He have my number."

Mama paused thoughtfully. "He is a devious man, he tell me he will return next Friday. I do not know he is here in Angeles. Master Thor is not his name before. He has plan well. I give your number to William, maybe he give it to Bruno. But consider ... you were content when he is Master Thor, maybe because he has a different name. If you are sweet with him when he is Master Thor, why will you not be content also when he is Bruno? His strange sex will bring you close. Why not give him a try?"

"Now, it is too late. Now, I am in love to Nick, I cannot love Bruno," said Blen.

The rumour mill carried gruesome news to Talent Spot that night. Members of staff from a hotel up Perimeter Road were saying that the dismembered body of a girl had been found in plastic bags placed in the refuse area of the hotel. A stray dog, smelling meat, had pulled open a bag, and had left body parts strewn on the refuse pile. The police were investigating, and were asking that any girls who had gone unexpectedly absent in the last few days be reported to them.

Mama-san checked her attendance sheets, and enquired of friends as to the whereabouts of girls unaccounted for. Most had been seen by friends, or were in hotels with their customers. Precious had not been seen for a few days, but she was on bar-fine at another hotel. A phone call confirmed that she was alive and happy. Mama had no names to report to the police.

There was also news of the three Mama-sans from Angel's Wand; they were due in court tomorrow, and the Mama-sans, including Mama Mutia, were going to the court to demonstrate. They wished to show support for the Mama-sans, and their opposition to extortion by false prosecution. It was unusual for Mama-sans to express a public voice, but the unjust treatment of the three Mama-sans, and the beating of their girls, had incensed opinion amongst them. If unopposed, they would end up as servants of the NBI, permanently subject to the threat of fabricated prosecutions.

The following evening, Mama was able to report a success. About seventy Mama-sans had assembled outside the Regional Trial Court, and the Angel's Wand Mama-sans were represented by the TAAC lawyer. No NBI officers attended court and with the three coerced affidavits retracted the charges had been dismissed.

The news concerning the dismembered body was less good. A girl from Lilliput bar had been reported missing, and could not be traced. She had been identified from the photo on her licence. It transpired that the girl had not been bar-fined, she was on a sneak-out, and her friends could only say that she had described the man she was meeting as a German. The field had narrowed to two or three suspects, but the evidence was circumstantial, and no arrests had been made. 

On Thursday, two more developments in Angeles City law enforcement were reported.

After the débâcle of the Angel's Wand prosecution, and the arrest of Humphrey, the Director of the NBI office in Angeles was replaced. One Attorney Lazario was to take the helm, and the feedback, through back channels, was that he was handpicked for his rectitude.

The other development was that the investigation into the murder of the girl from Lilliput was de-prioritised, there being no leads to follow. Officially, it was being said that the refuse area of the hotel was accessible from outside, and it appeared that the body could have been placed there to divert suspicion onto an occupant of the hotel. No evidence of such a grisly murder and dismemberment had been found at the hotel. 

The rumour spreading from hotel staff close to the investigation, on the contrary, was that a hotel guest had been officially interviewed and unofficial meetings between the hotel owner, his lawyer, the guest, and the police had taken place. The guest, who was of the same nationality as the owner and was rumoured to be related, had left suddenly and was now back in his own country. The hotel owner, unusually, had supervised the thorough cleaning of the guest's room after all the movable contents had been removed and disposed off. The belief was that the investigation had been pre-empted by a bribe, and the file would remain open and unsolved for a year or so before being archived, like the file on the billy boy murdered on Blow Row.

The girls were disturbed by these rumours. The hotel had its own bar and its own girls and the hotel owner was effectively their Papa-san, yet he was indifferent to the fate of a bar girl, willing to treat her as a disposable asset from whom murderous foreigners should be protected if the girl should inconveniently die in the course of her trade.

On Friday, the girls' fourth payday came around. It was not only payday; Friday was Blen's Hygiene day. Nick walked from his hotel to Hygiene with Blen, sheltering together under his umbrella as the winds tried to wrest it from his grasp. After she attended the Virgin Clinic, they made their way back to MacArthur, and on to the lady-house. 

The girls were now becoming accustomed to having money, yet to feel the same thrill as they felt six weeks ago when, for the first time in their lives, they had held cash in their hands, required cash in ever-increasing quantities. Then, to hold 3000 pesos was ecstasy, now, when 10,000 pesos could be earned in a day, and disappear in a day, the anxiety that what they earned would not be enough crept back into their minds. When they spoke to their families in Desbilla they received requests for larger and more frequent remittances, there was always an urgent item of expenditure required somewhere in the family; the needs of the family seemed to expand to absorb the girl's income, and then always grow a little more. The pressure on the girls to earn increased with each call.

This time, Girlie, as short-time girl, had earned the highest salary, taking home 11,150 pesos. Precious, with her magnetic bar-fines received 10,560. Blen received 8,850. Bruno's advance bar-fine did not cover the whole period. She was no longer the short-time girl, and she could still not go bar-fine. Amor earned 6,250, but this without the aid of shabu. Blen felt disappointed to see her salary continue to fall. Amor, though she earned the lowest salary was content. She had turned the corner. She had paid off her credit and she was earning a good salary for the time of year. She earned much more in tips than in salary, and as Miss Ass-Fuck, she provided a service which was in demand, but for which there was limited availability. 

When Blen collected her salary, Mama told her, "Hu-Fan and Mr Chew arrived today. Mr Chew is anxious to meet you. I will collect you tomorrow at midday. Be presentable. Dress like a cherry-girl."

"Tomorrow is my day off, I go with Nick," protested Blen.

"I will give you 1000 pesos for your time, you can then treat Nick," said Mama, "but, now, we must be quick, everyone is here and it is time to sell your cherry."

"How long?" 

"By the end of the week, probably."

"It is one week now, until Mama sell my cherry," were the first words Blen said to Nick. "Is your plan ready?"

"I shall get all my cash together. I've got together a little more than I thought, and I've arranged a few loans."

"Will there be enough?" 

"I hope so," said Nick, but both believed in their hearts that it would not be enough, not by a long way.

"Tomorrow I will see Mr Chew, Mama will collect me," Blen told him.

"It'll get you out of the house," quipped Nick.

Outside the rain lashed down as Typhoon Queenie approached.

On Saturday, by the time Mama collected Blen from the lady-house, the typhoon was passing several hundred kilometres to the north. The wind was gusting strongly, and the rain was heavy and continuous. On Mama's arrival, the door was unsealed and opened briefly to allow her to enter, then immediately pushed closed. 

"Let me see how you look," said Mama, "Mr Chew will like to see a virgin."

She then set about presenting Blen as virginal. 

Blen's hair was pulled back from her face and knotted with a handkerchief. She was dressed in a loose, spotlessly white T-shirt and baggy shorts that hung to her knees, with flip-flops on her feet. When Mama was satisfied that she looked like a fresh-faced sixteen-year-old, they embarked in the trike. Nick made his way back to his hotel to await events.

On the way, Blen called to Mama over the roar of the motorbike engine and the howl of the wind, "Mama, today I am Miss Cherry-Pie."

As they battled through the remote effects of the typhoon, Blen recognised the route. They were heading for the Mimosa Estate; she had been here at the beginning of the last typhoon. Eventually they halted. To Blen's surprise, she was again at the Raphael Hotel complex. Blen had been impressed by the sumptuous exterior, but the splendour of the interior took her breath away. Clean and elegant, spacious and beautifully decorated, this was a standard of luxury Blen had not previously experienced. Even Mama seemed uncomfortable and out of place. She spoke nervously with the receptionist, and sat on the edge of the sofa, awaiting Hu-Fan.

Hu-Fan arrived ten minutes later, and greeted Mama and Blen. He was a well-groomed and suited Chinese man, who smiled ingratiatingly and spoke in good English. His pleasant manner put Blen at ease. He invited Blen and Mama to come with him. 

After they had walked a few paces out of hearing of the persons in reception, he stopped and spoke quietly. "I shall take you to meet Mr Chew now. He is in the restaurant. We will lunch together. We cannot take you to our rooms, we do not want to be seen taking young girls to our room for obvious reasons, but we can discuss matters over lunch with Mr Chew. His nurse will be present as a chaperone. She knows the purpose of our visit, so we can speak freely." 

He looked at Blen. "I am sure you will please him, you look just the girl we require."

"But, I do not understand about the unicorn," said Blen.

"I will explain all that later, but first, just meet Mr Chew, I am sure he will approve you. It is best not to speak too much. If Mr Chew asks a question, answer, but do not ask questions, I will answer your questions and talk about money later. Just look at him and smile. He does not speak English, I will translate, but look at Mr Chew, he is your customer. You must charm him."

He led them into the restaurant, where Mr Chew sat with his nurse by his side, at a table for six. As Mr Chew looked up, he caught Blen's eyes, and his face brightened with a satisfied smile. Blen grinned shyly back. Their eyes remained locked as Hu-Fan seated them, Blen opposite Mr Chew, Mama opposite the nurse, and himself on the short side between Mr Chew and Blen.

To Blen, Mr Chew seemed like an older version of Mr Hirohito, with his hair a little whiter and thinner, his skin paler, more wrinkled and blotched, his body more hunched, and his smile more gummy. He looked at her, and spoke for some time, nodding his head. 

When he finished, Hu-Fan spoke. "Mr Chew is very pleased. You exceed his expectations. He believes you are the girl who will catch his unicorn. He has seen your photos, and he believes you are a perfect virgin with a perfect hymen. He wishes only to confirm that you remain so. He would like you to go with his nurse, to confirm."

"I am the same," said Blen, "I will go."

Hu-Fan passed a file to the nurse, who rose, and indicated to Blen to follow. As Blen caught up with her, she took her by the arm, and guided her. It was apparent that the nurse and Blen did not share a common language.

In her room, the nurse took the witness shots from the file, and studied them. She placed them on the bed, and indicated to Blen that she should take off her shorts and briefs, and lie down. As Blen did this, the nurse took some latex gloves from a bag, and pulled them on, then bent up Blen's knees, and parted them. Leaning forward, she drew open Blen's labia, and inspected her hymen. Looking up at Blen, she spoke in a language she did not understand, but the tone was positive. The nurse then leaned forward, and for several seconds sniffed deeply at Blen's hymen. Again, she spoke; again, the tone was positive. Finally, she took a borescope, a digital camera with a micro lens on a long, flexible, optical microfiber neck, and using a USB cable, connected it to her cell phone. When she switched it on, a light shone from the lens, which she then inserted through the hole in the centre of Blen's hymen. It was cold and hard, and Blen could feel it being moved around inside her vagina as the nurse manipulated it, making her incomprehensible observations and recording them on her cell phone.

The nurse withdrew the camera and stood. Her manner was now more relaxed, and her chatter animated. As Blen made to rise, she held up her hand to indicate she should remain as she was. From her bag, she took two hook retractors and offered them to Blen, one to each hand, moving Blen's hands to indicate what she required. Blen understood, and with the nurse guiding her, she used the retractors to draw and hold open her vagina. The nurse raised her mobile phone, and held it close to Blen's vulva to frame her hymen, then took several shots. She smiled, and indicating she was finished, waved Blen up.

When they arrived back at the table, the nurse nodded assuringly to Mr Chew, producing her cell phone, and showing him her photos of Blen's hymen, and the video of the interior of her vagina. Mr Chew looked intently at the screen, and appeared to ask several questions of the nurse, who answered them shortly. The conversation continued briefly after the phone was replaced, but, eventually, Mr Chew turned again to Blen and beamed his toothy smile on her, and began to speak.

 Hu-Fan translated. "I am very grateful to you for offering to help me," he began, "and I shall reward you well, because I am wealthy and you can save my life. I am an old man of eighty-five years, and I have lived long and seen many things, and now I am ready to die. I have a disease, which my doctor tells me can carry me off at any moment; he does not expect me to live three months. In many ways I welcome death, I have struggled and I have succeeded, I have amassed great wealth, I have supported charities and I support my family. I have many children by many women, but I married late in life, a marriage of love. By my beloved wife, now deceased, I had only one child, a daughter. Almost as my doctor pronounced my death sentence, my daughter announced the glorious news, that she was pregnant. The child is to be a boy. He will be my legitimate heir, and it is to him I will pass the joys and the responsibilities of my wealth. Before I die, I wish to hold him in my arms. My wu-po," he opened his hand toward his nurse, "tells me that the only sure way I can live to hold my grandson, is if I consume the life spirit of a unicorn.




Bar Girl Ch. 14



"She is learned in our ancient wisdom, and has researched what I must do. I must go with you into the spirit world, and you must accept the embrace of a unicorn. A unicorn will only give his seed to a virgin. When you have mated, I shall consume his seed straight from your body, and his life spirit will become mine, and I shall be healed.

"My wu-po tells me that you are a perfect virgin, with a perfect hymen, the most perfect she has seen, that your vagina is healthy and moist, and engenders a wholesome odour that will attract the acute nose of a unicorn. If you succeed in this, I will confer on you great wealth. I will bid for your virginity, but, on one condition. You must consent to the advances of the unicorn. A unicorn cannot take a female against her will, he will know if she does not embrace him willingly. I will give you 1,000,000 pesos to embrace him without reservation. Will you do so?"

"Of course, for 1,000,000 pesos, I will. I will help you see your grandson," Blen replied with alacrity.

The faces around the table, which fixed intently on Blen as the question was put, all suddenly relaxed into broad congratulatory smiles. Food was ordered, a meal was consumed, and the bargain was celebrated. Mr Chew tired, and he spoke to his nurse. 

"Mr Chew will now retire, he thanks you for coming, and believes the auguries are good," translated Hu-Fan.

After Mr Chew had left, Hu-Fan, Mama and Blen, talked among themselves.

"You will be a millionaire," said Mama to Blen.

"I like his story. I like the old man, but he is just imagination, maybe his mind is too old. I cannot have his money because there is no unicorn," said Blen.

"There will be a unicorn. Hu-Fan will explain."

Hu-Fan carefully swallowed the morsel he was chewing, and cleared his throat.

"We can remove a great concern from Mr Chew's shoulders. His last days can be light and happy, but not if he grieves because he will not see his grandson. I wish him to die happy, whenever that may be. When he came to me with his advice from his wu-po, I said I would try to help. I do not believe in spirits. I do not believe in unicorns. But, I do believe I can make Mr Chew happy. He believes, and I can help him see what he wants to believe. After he has bought your cherry, at an auspicious time and place - and I will chose where - Mr Chew's design will be achieved. You and Mr Chew will enter the spirit world together; he believes that this is done through the medium of his opium pipe; he has communed with the spirits by this means since his youth, and believes they have guided him to his great wealth. You will smoke pipes together until it grows dark, then you will be laid out to attract the unicorn, and Mr Chew will hide and watch. A unicorn will come. It will appear, to Mr Chew's intoxicated senses, to be a unicorn. It will harvest your virginity, and its seed will be deposited in you. When the unicorn leaves, Mr Chew can come from his hiding place, and suck the contents from your vagina. He will be happy, and you will be wealthy."

"What will appear to Mr Chew to be a unicorn?" asked Blen.

"We have a white foal. It is a mare," said Hu-Fan, "It is being trained to wear a cosmetically attached horn, and to search out female hormones. Horses have a special gland for this. We shall put a strong dose of female hormones in your vagina, and we shall release the foal, who will come and look for it. When she nuzzles your vagina, you will awake. The foal will also be provided with an artificial phallus; you will then take charge of the foal, and guide the phallus into your vagina; it will tear through your hymen, there will be a mechanism that you will press to inject a sample of semen we have specially prepared, into your vagina; it will be real, fresh semen, with the correct taste and consistency, only we will add a chemical that will make it luminous. When this has been done, we blow a dog whistle, which Mr Chew cannot hear, to recall the foal; you then summon Mr Chew to consume the semen."

"But I do not like to trick Mr Chew," said Blen.

"We cannot make him well, but we can, at least, make him happy," said Hu-Fan.

"And, since Mr Chew is paying for his life, he will pay more than Bruno, and you will be a peso millionaire," added Mama.

"Why is there no honest way to make one million pesos," said Blen, "I do not like to be dishonest. He is a nice man."

"He is a nice man, and you will give him happiness for the remainder of his life. That is not a trick, and a million pesos for him is as a peso would be to you. Would you trade a peso for happiness for the remainder of your life? He will get a better bargain than he imagines, that is all," said Hu-Fan.

"Where will this be?"

"We are looking at some places in the mountains; we are working with an illusionist to find the best location."

Hu-Fan drove them back in his hire car, dropping Mama near Talent Spot, and Blen at MacArthur Highway. Blen emerged from the comfort and protection of the car to be buffeted and blasted by the wind, and sprayed with driven rain, as she made her way to Nick's hotel.

Nick listened incredulously to her story. "A million pesos?" 

"Yes," confirmed Blen.

"Do you still want me to take your cherry?" he asked.

"Yes. Have you made your plan?"

Nick hesitated. "There are still some details to be ironed out," he announced with faked confidence.

When Blen's phone rang, and she saw it was Bruno, she answered with relish.

"How is my little goddess today?" he asked solicitously.

"Little goddess is very happy. Today she is not Princess Butt-Slut; she is Miss Cherry-Pie."

"I adored you even when you were Miss Blow-Job," said Bruno.

"Enjoy your memory, you will have no more. Today I meet the man who will buy my cherry." Blen's tone was saccharine sweet.

But harshness returned to Bruno's voice. "Not another fool who thinks his whim will outbid my passion."

"No. A man who will pay for his life, not just a passion. He is wealthy and he will pay anything. He will outbid you."

Blen thought she heard his teeth grind.

"Do not underestimate me you little tramp," he hissed through clenched jaws, and hung up.

When Blen turned up for work, Mama had further news.

"I have spoke with all interest parties, and we will meet tomorrow to agree the bidding rules. We all meet here at two-pm." 

Blen looked puzzled, as Nick had said nothing to her. "Did you speak to Nick?"

"I mean all bidders. I know he is interest, but he is not a bidder. He can come if you like. It will not make a difference. I am sorry, but the truth is all the bidders have much deeper pocket than Nick."

"He will come. He has a plan," said Blen.



Bar Girl Ch. 15



'A Grand Climax.'

The Rules. The Treasure Chests. The Auction. The Resolution. 

By midday on Sunday, the typhoon had moved to the west, and the sky was white with thinning cloud. Soft rain fell through the still air. Blen and Nick set off from the hotel at half-past-one, and walked towards Blow Row, up Surla St, where Blen spotted Precious's customer sitting in a trike outside Hygiene, and popped in to speak with her.

Precious said her customer would fly home at midnight, and she would accompany him to the airport that evening, then return directly to Talent Spot to share any good news. Blen explained that they were off to Talent Spot to see what rules there would be for the sale of her cherry. With a hug, and mutual best wishes, they parted again. 

Nick and Blen continued up to Blow Row, turned right and walked up towards the pedestrianised zone. The cocktail lounges on Blow Row were well populated, with girls soliciting every foreigner as he made his way along the thoroughfare. A good number of customers sat inside, or at the frontage, ready for their day, sipping coffee or beer, and making a leisurely choice of the girl to take the edge off his libido before he bar-hopped. At Fields Ave, they entered the pedestrianised zone, turned right again and walked down to Talent Spot. Some bars were open, and some were preparing to open. 

Talent Spot was a two-pm bar, so when Nick and Blen entered Mama was making the last preparations before opening. They sat up on the bench seats and watched. The girls clustered below stage in their costumes, and chirruped like a flock of parrots. Various housekeeping tasks were being carried out, and the tables assigned to waitresses. 

Daddy came out from the rear, and looked at his watch. His chin shot up. He bawled, "Why don't we have music? Why aren't the girls dancing? It's two-o'clock."

Mama clapped her hands and called to the girls. The dancers hurried slowly to funnel up the stairs onto the stage, though some clambered straight over the stools. After a short pause, the loud, canned music started up, and the girls moved disinterestedly to the music while continuing their conversations. Daddy walked to the door and shooed the door girls outside, then followed to ensure that Talent Spot appeared open.

Jordan was the first bidder to arrive. He saw Blen and Nick, and came to sit with them.

"Hi Blen, who's here?" 

"Just my boyfriend," said Blen looking at Nick.

"Hi, I'm Jordan," he offered his hand to Nick, "You're a lucky guy. She's some girl. Are you bidding?"

Nick shook his hand. "I'm Nick. I've bought the right of first-refusal."

"Mmmmm. Smart move. But Mama tells me there's some financial heavyweights in the frame. I hope you don't have to mortgage the farm, though she'd be worth it. Good luck."

On seeing an unaccompanied male, some of the dancers lost interest in their collocutors and performed with a little verve, moving to a space where Jordan could see them. When, a few minutes later, Hu-Fan, Mr Chew and his nurse entered, the whole array of dancers blossomed with interest and hope into eager working girls. Mr Chew moved slowly, with the assistance of his nurse. They joined Blen's party, and Blen introduced the Chinese to the other two, and vice versa. Hu-Fan translated, and smiles and nods were exchanged.

Mr Chew spoke earnestly with his nurse, who looked intently from Nick to Jordan and spoke at length in Chinese. Mr Chew nodded his head as she spoke, and eventually smiled.

Mama came over to the table and greeted everyone. "Bruno will arrive shortly, then we will go into the rear, meanwhile please have any complimentary drink of your choice." 

Blen included herself in the invitation, and ordered a Slippery Nipple. The Chinese ordered Jack Daniels, and Jordan and Nick, San Miguel light.

Shortly, Bruno appeared, slinking into the bar looking tense and combative. Perfunctory greetings were exchanged, except with Blen, who did not look at him. A waitress fetched him a bottle of mineral water, and he took an interest in the dancers who brightened in response. Jordan maintained a desultory conversation with Nick, and Hu-Fan with Mr Chew, until Mama came to invite them to the rear, and they all rose in relief and followed her.

A table had been set up for the meeting, but owing to space restrictions and the number of people who needed to be there at any time, there were not enough seats for everyone. Mr Chew, Hu-Fan, Jordan, Nick, Bruno and Mama sat. Blen stood behind Nick, arms on his shoulders, and Mr Chew's nurse stood behind him.

Mama took out the page with the two existing rules on it. "So far, this is what is written down," she said, and read from the sheet.

Mr Chew was disconcerted by the first rule, but Hu-Fan asked some questions to clarify and, after a little conversation, it was agreed.

The second rule encapsulated Bruno's requirements, and was further elaborated, mostly at his insistence.

"When, where and how?" he then demanded, "We do not yet know that."

"Daddy have make this arrangement, subject to your approval," said Mama. "There is a bar on Perimeter Road, which has been close, but reopen on Friday night; it open from twelve-am to ten-pm; it is a secure bar, and the manager have agree to a lock-in at ten. When the bar is close, with all interested parties inside, then an auction will be held. I have decide that a public auction is the fairest way."

"Will you advertise?" asked Bruno.

"Up to the auction," said Mama.

"You must be mad. There should be no more publicity, no attention, nothing to arouse suspicion or invite police attention. A public auction is ridiculous."

"Bruno is right," said Jordan," you have all the real players. If you go public, you'll pull in tire kickers and penny bidders. It should just be between us three. If you invite attention, I for one, am out."

"Very well," said Mama, "there will be no further bidders. It will be a private auction between the three named parties, and there will be no further publicity."

"This must be a cash auction," said Bruno. "Payment must be made, in cash, immediately on conclusion of the auction, by the winning bidder. If full payment is not made, all his bid monies will be forfeit, and the under bidder's bid shall be accepted." 

"How do you arrange that?" enquired Nick.

Bruno thought. "All bidding monies must be held in escrow by Mama-san. No forfeit bid will be returned. Our treasure chests must be handed to Mama before the bidding begins." 

"My treasure chest will not leave my sight," said Hu-Fan.

"We can place them where they can be seen at all times; the bidders will place them there, and no one may touch them until there is a winning bid, then, the winner must immediately count out the amount of the winning bid in the presence of the other bidders," said Mama.

After a short discussion, all agreed to this.

"Can we pay in any currency?" asked Nick.

This discussion took longer. Eventually it was agreed that bidding would be in pesos, but payment could be made in pesos, dollars or Euros, conversion into pesos being made at the rate prevailing at Norma's Money Changer, at six-pm, on the day of the auction.

"We need to decide when," said Hu-Fan, "Mr Chew's health is unstable. He wishes to proceed as soon as possible."

"Will everyone have their money by Friday?" asked Mama.

All nodded.

"OK. Wait, I will speak to Daddy Don." She went outside and a few minutes later, returned. "Daddy has made a call. Saturday is the earliest day." 

They all agreed. The rules were drawn up by Mama and signed by Mama, Bruno, Jordan on behalf of Jack, and Hu-Fan on behalf of Mr Chew. The group then gravitated into the bar and dispersed, leaving just Nick and Blen.

"It seems so long since I've been in a bar," said Nick, "can I just sit here and look at the girls for a while?"

"It is up to you. You are the boss," said Blen, "or, do you want to come in your hotel and look at me," she added meaningfully. 

"OK," said Nick.

Back in Nick's hotel room, Nick and Blen took stock.

"Do you have a plan ready?" asked Blen.

"The plan is simple; I exercise my right of first-refusal. All I lack is the money, but I have six days. I'm working on it."

"Maybe it is too late now. It is 2 million pesos, maybe more," said Blen.

"That's 50,000 dollars. Say, the price of a nice car. I reckon I'd trade a nice car for a bright smile, a generous heart and a pussy with zero miles on the clock. Shit, you can't even fuck a car."

"Why is a pussy with zero miles cost so much. Amor has a bright smile and generous heart. Precious also. Many girls."

"All I can tell you is that it's not worth a bent cent to me. It's what's in their imagination, whatever that is, that has value to them," said Nick.

"Then why will you pay for my cherry?"

"Because, it's my present for you. In your imagination it's as important as it is to Bruno or Mr Chew, so I'll pay for it as a gift for you."

"And it is important to me because it will be my gift to you," said Blen.

"And I would rather have a bent cent."

"With a gift, it is the thought that counts, and I think you will like my cherry." 

"What did you think when you sold it to Mama," asked Nick, "Then you thought it was worth no more than Girlie's or Amor's and you were glad of 22,000 pesos." 

"Then I thought it was a free gift that could pay my sister's education. But I hate Bruno, so then I think it is worth to pay, not to give to him. Then I fall in love, now I think it is worth to pay, to give it to you."

"It's all too complicated for me. I can see why Jack wants your cherry; he can calculate his profit to the cent. Mr Chew believes he will hold his grandson in his arms. Bruno is odd. What's his interest? If it floats his boat, for a few thousand pesos he could find a girl to deflower on a wedding dress every night."

"Bruno love me. He does not love another girl," said Blen, "that is why he like my cherry, that is why you should like my cherry also. Maybe Bruno love me more than you love me."

"He certainly loves you differently. You'll have to be content with that," said Nick, unhappy with the turn the conversation had taken.

Nick's life was now very tedious. Without spending money, not much exciting or interesting happens. His day started well, waking up with Blen to a lovers' tryst. After that, long empty hours stretched before him requiring to be filled, his craving to be purposefully occupied sedated only by Blen's comforting companionship. Often, he would go with Blen to the lady-house for an hour or two, then to an inexpensive karenderia to eat, then walk the streets, the markets, the malls, until darkness approached, finally returning to his hotel. When Blen left for work, he would lie on his bed and watch TV programmes delivered in an unintelligible language, often dozing off, awaiting Blen's return.

After several weeks of repetitious days, the prospect of public controversy was irresistible. At half-past-one on Wednesday, Nick and Blen made their way up Fields Avenue to attend the 'Town Hall' meeting called to discuss the closure to traffic of Fields Avenue and surrounding areas.

By two, a large crowd had assembled in the roadway at the junction of Fields and Blow Row. There were a great many interested parties; the bar owners, their association, the shop owners, the trike drivers and the Trike Owner Drivers Associations. These TODAs, provided transport from Fields, Perimeter and A Santos, and the members paid for the right to earn their living. Their catchments were severely dislocated by the closure. A great many of the idle and the curious, including Nick and Blen also, attended.

The crowd milled restlessly as the street vendors, attracted by the crowd, moved amongst them pushing their wares. Many onlookers took advantage of the proximity of Poco Jo's to grab a cold drink and engage in a private debate. Nick and Blen stood in the street amongst the crowd, and listened to their fears and complaints. No explanation had been given for the sudden closure of Fields. Traffic management in the area had long been discussed, without any significant progress being made. 

Pedestrianisation of Fields Avenue had been proposed as a way making the street safe for inebriated tourists as they bar-hopped, but that had been suggested from dusk, and no traffic diversion plan had been devised. The prevailing belief was that the recent precipitate action had resulted from intelligence that Fields Avenue was targeted for terrorist bombing. 

Different views had developed amongst those whose livelihoods depended on the hospitality industry. The Bar owners and operators, largely ex-pats, were anxious to discount the terrorist threat, which would be fatal to tourism, but wanted to implement reasonable precautions. Their plan was to agree an arrangement which would protect Fields from car bombs, while being capable of being passed off as a long planned improvement for the benefit of tourists. Others, the Filipinos who made their living from providing transport and services ancillary to the bars, whose lives were in any event precarious and for whom the added prospect of being blown up by terror bombs added little to the uncertainty of their existence, wanted little to change.

Two-fifteen came and went, and the mayor and police chief failed to arrive. The crowd still waited at two-thirty, so the TAAC president and lawyer launched a public discussion in their absence, albeit doing no more than facilitating the powerless to speak unto the powerless. At three, the mayor, the police chief, and the new Angeles Office NBI Director, at last appeared. They were reluctant to explain why Fields Ave had been pedestrianised at such short notice, which implicitly confirmed many people's suspicions, but no one felt it in the interest of the hospitality industry to pursue their suspicions too far. A grand, but vague plan, for a pedestrianised tourist precinct was outlined, and when the question of finance was raised, it became even vaguer.

Drinks, and a platter of delicacies, were provided for the eminent guests. Various morsels were set around a side of honey-roasted pork, the traditional Filipino offering to honoured guests. Such was the lack of organisation, that the platter passed the satellites before reaching the guest of honour. The mayor looked resentfully at the police chief and NBI Director, as they chomped on plates of pork crackling, while he and the others chewed on less prized slices of meat and fat.

Little was explained, and little achieved at the meeting, and by four it dispersed. Nick had enjoyed the company and the drama. As a prospective returning tourist, he had been pleased to offer opinions and advice, and had happily glad-handed the civic officials and business people and exchanged his business card for theirs. 9000 miles away, these were people he would have done business with, and he enjoyed rehearsing his business patter, probing and sizing up, sifting and weeding in the network, looking for business and business partners. Blen stood silently, decoratively and dutifully by Nick, listening and watching, impressed at his skill in presenting himself, establishing and defining a relationship, leading the conversation, then without offence, and with mutual complicity, moving on to a new prospect. When they walked back down Fields Avenue, she clutched his arm and held him tight, so as to leave it beyond question to any roving female eyes that he was not just a customer, he was her boyfriend.

When she returned from work, she sat on Nick's bed and said, in a resigned tone, "It is late now, I must accept my fate. I do not mind that you cannot buy my cherry."

Nick sat by her and looped a comforting arm around her. "We haven't yet reached the end of the road. I still have some numbers to call and favours to be returned. Tomorrow'll be a busy day. I'll need to get on the phone and use my charm. We'll get a copy of your contract with Mama and read the small print, we'll just keep pitching, we'll explore every avenue; if I can't buy your cherry it won't be because we left a possibility unexplored."

The following morning, Blen sat and listened as Nick worked his phone, flitting from party to party, charmingly reviving long forgotten obligations, exploring possibilities, obtaining useful contacts, slowly shaping opportunities, and homing in on a strategy. A simple country girl, unfamiliar with the ways of business, Blen was astounded at the brazenness with which Nick would call anyone, whether known to him or not, assume an easy familiarity, and plunge directly into a business proposition involving sums unimaginable to her. The number of ways of putting a value on assets, and raising money against them, amazed her. The number of ways a sum of money could be invested, and the speed at which a return could be achieved, amazed her more. High-risk investments, for large returns, were discussed as ways of leveraging his funds. What seemed like bets, with a little inside information, confided by a friend, became an investment. 

When he had gathered his stake together, Nick phoned an old friend, and called in a long outstanding favour. He needed a share that was highly sensitive to particular information, and if that information was unfavourable, would be destined to fall precipitately in value, overnight. He needed to know the information, and how to plausibly leak it. The friend was wary. It was an old and familiar trick, he could make certain suggestions, but he could not personally participate. As he gave his advice, Nick took careful notes. When he hung up, Nick's plan was complete. It was audacious, but moving swiftly and decisively, as many other successful businessmen had done before him, he could, overnight, secure Blen's cherry, and a comfortable life besides. He did his calculations. He knew the share, he knew the information, he knew how and when to leak it. With a few clicks on his computer, he could trade on margins in a big way.

Nick sat with Blen and explained the plans, and the risks, but also the possible rewards, rewards which, with a little manipulation became certain. Blen listened intently, but became lost in the complexity. 

When Nick finished, all Blen could say was, "That is not the Filipino way."

"Let's go and see Mama," said Nick.

Mama copied off the contract for Nick, and he and Blen went away to study it.

It was a long night. Nick had slept, but woke when Blen arrived at two-thirty-am. Blen then snoozed fitfully while he hunched over his computer and made occasional calls. At dawn, Blen rose and Nick walked with her, down MacArthur, to the church. After prayer, they stood at the Charity Box. Blen, wishing God's blessing on the enterprise, exacted a promise that if successful, ten-per-cent of the proceeds would go in the Charity Box.

Her spirits restored, with a confident heart, Blen instructed Nick to loosen the purse strings, and fill a basket with good things to provide a sumptuous breakfast for the lady-house. It was several hours before the girls rose, and Blen had ample time to prepare a tasty breakfast for all.

When they had eaten, Precious, Amor and Girlie called Blen and Nick into the bedroom, to speak privately. 

"We must go now to the bank," said Precious, "we will draw our savings for you."

"Thank you," said Blen, "but we do not need your money, Nick has make a plan, and I have ask God's blessing ... his share is ten-per-cent. It is now God's will, and your money will not make the difference."

When the meal was finished, Nick called a taxi. First, they went to Hygiene, where Blen attended the Virgin Clinic for the last time, then continued down to Savers Mall where Nick bought a stout suitcase. They then went to a security firm, and procured the services of a 24hr armed guard for the next two days. Next, they went to the bank. Blen sat in the taxi while the guard stood at the bank door, and Nick entered with the suitcase. When he re-emerged, the guard escorted Nick to the taxi, and they were driven to the Wild Orchard hotel, where Nick had booked in for the night. He secured his suitcase, and the armed guard made himself comfortable in the room. 




Bar Girl Ch. 15



Nick and Blen were driven up Perimeter Road. They disembarked at Luscious Lips, the newly opened bar, where a party was in progress, and where, tomorrow, Blen's cherry would be auctioned. It was a small bar with about twenty girls, and managed by the charismatic Lamar. 

Lamar was a veteran of many 'one season' bars and his client/owner was very pleased with the first day's trading. Nick and Blen wanted to see where the auction would take place. It was a small and comfortable venue, and entirely suitable for the purpose.

At half-past-six, a very tired Nick emerged with Blen onto Perimeter Road and drove with her as far towards Talent Spot as possible. Decamping, and paying off the taxi driver generously, they then continued by foot down Fields to Talent Spot. He took a stool at the stage while Blen changed, and she immediately came to sit with him. Nick walked over and rang the bell. The girls cheered, and Mama came over as Nick unpeeled notes from his bundle and handed them to the waitress.

"Do you not save your money for tomorrow?" asked Mama.

"I have money for every day. And more," replied Nick.

"Nick is also a rich man now. His plan has worked," explained Blen, "he can pay my first-refusal now."

"Then you will lose a million pesos," said Mama.

"A million pesos is like a car, you cannot fuck it."

Mama thought Blen's reply rather cryptic.

For the whole of the evening, Nick, who felt like the drunken sailor on shore leave after six months at sea, made free with his newfound largesse. He sat at the bar with Blen and her friends, buying ladies drinks and flirting. Three times during the evening, at Daddy's prompting, the waitress reckoned up Nick's tab and obtained payment. By the end of the evening, he had paid over 32,000 pesos to Talent Spot, disbursed perhaps 5,000 pesos in tips to the girls, and tipped the waitress with a 1000 peso note. As Blen changed, Mama told her to come in at half-past-eight and be ready for the auction.

Next day, Nick and Blen enjoyed the facilities of the Wild Orchard. Nick particularly appreciated cable TV, including English language channels, familiar programmes, and news from home. They frolicked in the pool, drank at the bar and ate in the restaurant. Nick's budget hotel had seemed comfortable and homely to Blen, but this was her first experience of a multi-star hotel, and she loved it.

After an early evening meal, Nick walked Blen to Talent Spot for eight-thirty, then returned to The Wild Orchard to make final checks on his treasure and treasure chest. He then settled with the guard to watch TV until the appointed time approached.

At eight-forty five, Blen was bade an emotional farewell by her friends in the bar, and with their good wishes cheering her on her way, she left with Mama, walked to the top of Fields, and took a trike up Perimeter to Luscious Lips. With one hour to go before closing this bar was beginning to wind down. A couple of customers remained, but most had finished their afternoon's fun, and had made their way down to Fields for an evening's revelry, some taking a Luscious Lips girl with them. The dancers, seeing the chance of a bar-fine receding, were demotivated and merely serving out the remainder of their shift.

Lamar came over and greeted Mama and Blen, and led them to a table to wait. The arrival of a Mama-san and girl piqued the curiosity of the home girls a little, and in the last fifteen minutes, as first Nick, then Bruno and Jordan, and then Hu-Fan arrived, hefting suitcases with them, they sparked back into life. 

At ten, just as Daddy Don arrived, the music stopped, and lights went up. Their Mama-san ushered the dancers from the stage, and all the staff left in the usual manner, glancing curiously at the unexplained assembly, but minding their own business. Lamar looked around outside. Four limousines were parked nearby, lights out, but with the shadows of two persons in each, those of the driver and the armed guard. He checked that all house lights were out, then pulled the door shut, and locked it. 

While he was doing this, Mama had taken Blen into the rear to prepare her.

"Mr Chew like the virgin, and Bruno the whore. I have a costume to please both." 

When Blen had undressed, Mama took a soft black cord about fifteen mm thick and deftly wove it round Blen's body, dividing it into broad flat diamonds and triangles, secured at the bottom by loops through her legs and at the top by loops over the shoulders. Her belly was framed by a diamond with her navel at the centre, and her breast were divided into two triangles, the points meeting between them, and her nipples standing at their centres.

"This will appeal to Bruno," said Mama, "He will like you tied like this. After we prove your virginity, I want you to dance like this, on the stage, behind the suitcases, until the bidding start. Be attentive to Bruno, arouse his lust and give him hope. When the bidding start, you will dress in these. It is like the virgin outfit for Mr Chew," 

Mama handed her a white T-shirt and shorts. "Wear these, until we prove your virginity, then dance in your rope costume. When the bidding start, put back on your virgin costume for Hu-Fan," she emphasised.

Blen reflected that Mama had given careful attention to pressing the right psychological buttons, at the right time, by simple and suggestive costuming.

Lamar, having concluded his closing down procedure, turned to the company. "How do you want to do this, it's up to you from here, I'll keep the lights down and the bar open."

"Let's do it quickly?" said Bruno, "We have too much cash in one place."

"We need a table for your suitcases," said Daddy Don. "Let's place one in front of the bar, where all can be seen. Make your mark on your suitcases, and place them on the table." 

When Mama led Blen, clad in her simple virgin costume, out, Lamar called for last drinks to be ordered before the auction. Mama requested some muted dance music for Blen.

The moment arrived.

"Come and stand here," Mama said to Blen, leading her to front and centre, where she stood before the tier of bidders with the suitcases on the table behind her.

"This is Blen Baitan, a virgin girl, and you are bidding this evening for the right to deflower her in the manner of your choosing. Before the bidding opens I will confirm her virginity. 

Blen, remove your clothes." 

Blen quickly slipped off her T-shirt and shorts to stand naked, except for the slender cord criss-crossing her body.

"Daddy Don, will you show the bidders that Blen remain a virgin?" said Mama.

Daddy came behind Blen, and grabbing the back of her legs, and tilting her back against his chest, he doubled her up against his shoulder, bent knees turned towards the ceiling. With one forefinger on each side of her vulva, he pulled it open to expose her hymen. From her precarious position, Blen could look down at the heads leaning forward and peering between her legs as he offered her to them.

Daddy held her close to each party, in turn, and asked, "Do you agree she's a virgin?"

Each answered "Yes," the final party being Nick, who as soon as he had assented, looked up at Blen and winked, and she smiled back.

Daddy set Blen back on her feet. She moved up onto the stage behind the suitcases, and began to undulate suggestively to the music, singling Bruno out for her gaze as she would do to a preferred customer in Talent Spot. Bruno stirred uncomfortably in his seat, just like a blue-balled customer about to succumb to a bar-fine. She smiled sweetly at him, amused by the thought of his penis being tortured as it strained to break out of his tight briefs. 

Bruno's discomfort became almost intolerable.

Mama was now in front of the bidders. "These are the rules of the auction. If you do not want to be bound by the rules, do not bid." She read the rules, as Blen snaked, like an enchanting nymph, over her shoulder. Having finished, she said, "I now take your treasure chests into escrow under the terms of the auction, to be returned to you, after payment of the winning bid is made, and after any applicable deduction under the rules." She then called on Daddy to take bids.

Daddy came to the centre. "I'll call for an initial bid, and call the amount and name of the bidder. After I call, I will allow 60 seconds to receive a higher bid. When no further bid is received within 60 seconds, the bidding is at an end, and the last bid made, is the winning bid.

Who will make the first bid?"

The bidders looked at one another cautiously, then Bruno broke the silence.

"200,000 pesos," he said, impatiently.

"200,000 pesos from Bruno." Daddy marked his watch.

Blen stopped snaking, and pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, then stood with her hands clasped demurely in front of her.

Jordan bid 250,000, and in increments of 50,000 the two leapfrogged one another to 500,000, the bid then being with Jordan. There was a pause. For 30 seconds no one spoke. 

Bruno made his move. "1 million pesos."

Jordan waved his hands to indicate he was out.

"1 million pesos with Bruno," said Daddy Don, and checked his watch.

All eyes now turned to Hu-Fan, who sat thoughtful and inscrutable, making who knows what calculations in his head. After a dramatic pause, he responded.

"1.5 million pesos."

Bruno immediately bid 2 million.

Mama's heart thrilled.

Blen was flattered by these figures, and Bruno's readiness to bid. She smiled at him again, and he shifted in his seat as he anticipated the delights to come.

Bidding proceeded more slowly now, in increments of half a million. At 3 million Bruno had the bid. Hu-Fan raised the stakes. 

"5 million." 

"6 million," responded Bruno, again without hesitation.

Mama hugged herself with delight at her incredible good luck.

Hu-Fan once more retreated into inscrutability. Thirty seconds passed, then forty, then fifty.

"10 million," bid Hu-Fan.

Mama's sat tensely in her chair, heart fluttering as she began to plan her retirement, and all eyes turned to Bruno. Everyone believed Hu-Fan had bet the bank, and wondered if Bruno had sufficient shot left in his locker. 

Bruno milked the moment. He waited 40 seconds before overbidding.

"10.5 million pesos."

"10.5 million pesos with Bruno," echoed Daddy.

The only sound was the muted music. No one spoke, stirred or even breathed. All those with watches had checked theirs when Daddy checked his, and were counting away the seconds. Hu-Fan no longer looked inscrutable, his face was visibly troubled and his brow furrowed in thought. 

At 10 seconds, he hesitantly spoke. "Within an hour I can bid in gold," he began, "I require only a short ..."

He was cut off by a triumphant Bruno. "You have five seconds to bid. Have you money to bid now?" he insisted.

Briefly, the room went silent again.

"We can enter into a private treaty tomorrow, you will be well rewarded..." wheedled, a now distinctly ill looking, Hu-Fan.

"Fuck your tomorrow," replied Bruno.

As he completed this rebuff, Daddy Don spoke, "60 seconds having expired since the last bid, I declare Bruno the winner at 10.5 million pesos."

Mama sagged happily into her chair as the tension was broken.

Bruno rose, with a malicious grin on his face, and moved towards Blen, but he was halted by Nick's voice. 

"I exercise my right of first-refusal."

Bruno turned, and glared at him. "You will forfeit what you have, if you do not make the bid," he sharply reminded Nick.

"But, if Hu-Fan would kindly advance me the 10 million in his bag, I shall have no problem, and he and I can enter into a private treaty tomorrow." Nick looked towards Hu-Fan.

"I will advance you any shortfall, and pay you 15 million pesos tomorrow," said Hu-Fan hurriedly, suddenly recovering his composure.

Bruno appealed to Mama, "This is not within the rules," and, suddenly everyone was shouting.

Daddy Don stepped over and rang the bell until the voices subsided sufficiently for him to be heard. "Everybody calm down. Mama will go through the rules. We will sort this out."

Mama was once more tense with excitement at the prospect of even more money, but she fumbled, and produced the rules, and everyone crowded around, pressing an opinion on her. She read them through several times, wanting them to read to her own advantage, then she indicated to Daddy that he should ring the bell to bring the bar to order.

"This situation does not appear in the rules," Mama started, and Bruno slapped a table in celebration, "but," she continued, "the rules say only that payment must be made immediately on completion of the auction. It does not specify what, or who the source of the money should be."

Bruno launched into a paranoid tirade, accusing every one of conspiring against him, and swearing revenge. Mama let him rage until he ran out of breath and paused.

"You still have the chance to raise your bid," Mama reminded him excitedly, "the winning bidder still has the right to state his highest bid to defeat the right of first-refusal." 

Bruno controlled his breathing. "This is a trick."

"This is no trick, it is an orderly auction. You have the chance to raise your bid. Do you want to do so?" insisted Mama.

Bruno looked around the bar, meeting the eyes fixed on him. His eyes blazed at Hu-Fan and Nick, and his gaze came to rest on Blen who stared impassively back. He had brought a certain sum of money, this was in his treasure chest, he had brought it to pay for her. It was not a time to be tentative. He knew that Nick must have a sum in his chest, but, had he been listening to Hu-Fan? Had he bet on the fact that Hu-Fan was desperate, and would accept his offer to treat tomorrow? Perhaps he hoped to have the difference to refund by then. Maybe he had accessible funds that he had not brought. It was an all or nothing situation.

"Very well, I bid 20 million pesos," growled Bruno.

Mama involuntarily gasped and clasped her hands.

"I am afraid Mr Hu-Fan is unable to improve my position..." said Nick, and Bruno grinned and began to swell with triumph, "... I can cover the bid without his help," he added.

The whole bar froze, for just a second, while this sank in. 

Mama broke the silence. "You have 20 million pesos in your chest?" 

"I have half a million dollars," said Nick.

"You see," Blen called to Bruno, "I told you my boyfriend would buy my cherry," and she stepped down to embrace Nick.

Recovering from an incapacitating daze, Bruno called out, "No Mama. Beware. These bills will be forgeries. This is not a man worth 50,000 dollars, certainly not half a million. He will trick you as willingly as he will trick me. I demand that all his notes are checked. He has brought forged notes."

The thought had occurred to Mama also, she was puzzled by Nick's sudden, unexplained wealth and she did not want to accept bad dollars in place of good pesos.

"Unless banks in the Philippines issue forged notes, these are all genuine," said Nick calmly, "There are 1000 genuine 500 dollar bills in my suitcase, and by my reckoning 384,615 dollars are Mamas. She can choose any 770 of these bills she wants." 

Nick unlocked, and laid open his suitcase, and inside everyone could see the ten neat piles of 500 dollar bills.

Mama was wide eyed with greed. "Do you have a device to test the bills?" she asked Lamar. 

But before he could reply, they all started back, and covered their ears. A deafening report had ricocheted between wall and ceilings, the sonic waves painfully compressing everyone's eardrums. Through the ringing in their bruised ears, they heard a voice from the rear, and, as their heads turned, they saw an NBI officer standing with his pistol in his upraised arm, the barrel smoking from his warning shot.

"NBI raid. Everyone stand still," he was saying.

Arms reached reflexively to grab the suitcases, and the parties joined Mama, Daddy and Lamar, who were leading the race to the front door. But, that door caved in before anyone reached it, and a file of officers ran at them, quickly knocking them all to the ground. With shrieks, shouts, and abuse, they resisted, but were overwhelmed, and pinned to the floor.

When the prisoners realised that further struggles or words were useless, and fell subdued and silent, the NBI director walked amongst them, and spoke. "I have received information that Human Trafficking has been taking place here this evening, and I am arresting everyone on these premises, apart from this young child," he indicated Blen, "who we will hold as a rescued person."

The officers videoed and photographed the scene, and gathered together the suitcases and documents found on various persons, made notes in notebooks and made entries in an evidence register. Then, the prisoners had their hands secured with plastic ties, and were led outside and placed in a traditional jeepney, with an open back and a bank seat down each side inside, no doubt hired at Checkpoint for the occasion. 

The two Daddies were put in first, followed by Mama and Jordan. These all had previous experience of such situations, and were biding their time. Bruno was creating a scene, demanding to speak confidentially with the director, insisting that there was a way to sort this out. He was eventually bundled in, and Hu-Fan tamely followed him. Blen, who was not a prisoner, and not handcuffed, clung on to Nick, and they were last in, sitting opposite Hu-Fan. An officer then sat on the end of each bench seat, adjacent to the exit.

The diesel engine throbbed into life and, very sedately, the jeepney set off down Perimeter Road towards Checkpoint, where it would enter Clark Field and head back up towards the NBI office. The people on the benches leaned towards each other and spoke just loudly enough to be audible to one another over the engine noise.

"Say nothing until our lawyer arrives," Daddy was advising. 

The others, who had a big financial interest, were concerned about the money as well as their freedom. 

"We must use the money to bargain," said Mama, "that is all it is good for now."

"But I have 20 million pesos," whined Bruno.

"If you end up with a life sentence in a Filipino jail, you won't need the money," Daddy reminded him.

At Checkpoint, the traffic grew congested, and the jeepney became intermixed with the jeepneys manoeuvring to join the ranks of public service jeepneys awaiting passengers. They were going east, the rest were going west. It was necessary to back up. One of the NBI guards dismounted, and walked several yards back to direct the traffic. The other stood at the back of the jeepney, to one side, giving directions to the driver in his mirror.

Blen shook Nick, and nodded urgently towards the opening. He hesitated. First, he looked across at the desperate Hu-Fan, and nodded. Hu-Fan nodded back.

"When I say Go," whispered Nick.

The opportunity was brief, so as soon as the guard at the door started to talk to the driver, he called "Go." 

Blen pushed that guard aside, and Nick and Hu-Fan burst from the rear of the vehicle and fanned out past him. The guard recovered his balance. As he readied himself to give chase, Bruno emerged at the rear of the jeepney; the guard immediately pushed him back, and drawing his pistol, remounted the jeepney, sealing off the avenue of escape.

The other guard, some twenty yards off, ran towards the escapees, who disappeared around the side of one jeepney, then wove their way through the gridlocked vehicles, away from him, emerging on Perimeter Road opposite Teodoro Street. They ran across and Nick looked back. The guard was just starting to cross. 

As they headed down Teodoro Street, Nick called out, "I'll go left, Hu-Fan go right and Blen, go straight on down."

Blen was younger and fitter, and her hands were unencumbered, so she could run fastest.




Bar Girl Ch. 15



At Tinio Street, they split, and the pursuing guard paused momentarily. Blen was the only fugitive left in view, and as he pondered which to pursue, he saw Blen trip and sprawl forward. That decided him. He raced after her. She managed to get to her feet before he arrived, but she limped a few paces, and stopped. He caught hold of her and led her back towards Checkpoint. Blen did not struggle; she was a rescued person after all. The main object had been achieved; Nick was at liberty.

The jeepney with the other prisoners had by this time, been extricated from the traffic, and had proceeded forthwith to the NBI office before any further attempt could be made at escape.

At the NBI office, the prisoners were booked in and locked into cells. Mama had a cell to herself, Daddy Don and Lamar shared, as did Bruno and Jordan. All of their hearts beat fast, and sweat rose on their palms, and all except Bruno retained their self-control. The others knew this might be a long game, but there were rules, and they must be followed. The charge they faced was not bailable and carried a mandatory life sentence, and they knew that patience and money, a lot of money, may be required.

Bruno continued shouting that he was innocent, and asking where his money was, and demanding to see the Director. A scuffle broke out between him and Jordan, and Jordan was removed from the cell while a couple of officers subdued Bruno. When Jordan was returned, Bruno was cut and bruised, but thankfully, now wept quietly in the corner.

At about two in the morning, they were all led once more out into the holding area.

Atty Lazario, the NBI Office Director, had returned, and wished to review the situation with the prisoners. 

"We have conclusive evidence against each of you," he told them.

"Lamar, you have the management and control of the premises where this was taking place.

Mama-san Mutia, I have a contract between you and this girl, photographs, and rules for an auction. I expect these documents can be proved to be in your handwriting. The birth certificate you have for her is dated just two months ago. I suspect it is a false document. 

Daddy Don, you are the employer of Mama Mutia and of the girl, and you were present. I believe you are the controlling hand.

Jordan and Bruno. Your signatures appear on the rules for this auction. There are suitcases, which we believe contain money, with your initials on them. They were taken from your possession at the site, and when we match your keys found in your possession to the suitcases, we expect this to confirm that they contain money.

He concluded. "I believe you are going to need a really good lawyer to escape from this." 

Daddy Don's heart jumped. Recognising the invitation, he cleared his throat. 

"I would like a good lawyer. Is there a lawyer you could recommend?" 

Atty Lazario paused for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. "Well, my cousin is a very good lawyer, experienced in matters of this nature ... If you would like me to call him he could be here in an hour?"

"I would be very grateful," said Daddy, knowingly.

Atty Lazario's attitude changed. "Good. Then I do not think it is necessary to lock you in the cells, I do not think you will be troublesome. You may sit together here in the holding area and watch the television until my cousin arrives."

When he left, Daddy Don gathered them all into a huddle. Mama Mutia, Lamar and Jordan were alive to what had passed, but he elaborated for the benefit of Bruno.

"That's his opening play. We know he wants to negotiate. It's just a question of how much. His cousin will tell us that when he comes. Remember, if we don't take this offer we may remain in custody for months or years before the case is dismissed. Of course, it may not be dismissed, then we'll be in prison for life. Those are the stakes."

"What about our money, can we get our money back?" asked Bruno despairingly. 

"Forget your money, consider it lost. Now it's a question of how much more we can pay. You must persuade them that you're spent out. But, think what further money you can mobilise, and how you can arrange to get hold of it. The faster we can wrap this up and the less notice we attract, the easier it will be, and the fewer people we have to pay."

Lamar supported this view. "We must get it all sorted out by Monday. We don't want it to go to the prosecutor, or to court. We must deal with the evidence before anyone outside the NBI office knows about it."

"We need access to our phones," said Jordan.

"And I will need the internet," added the miserable Bruno.

The Director's cousin did not appear until mid-morning, and then he appeared with Atty Lazario. The prisoners had made themselves as comfortable as they could in the chairs provided, and were napping fitfully.

Atty Lazario called them to attention, and introduced his cousin. "This is Atty Lapsin Florides. He will give you the best possible advice, so listen carefully. Meanwhile, let me bring you up to date with our investigation. We have taken the girl, Blen, back into protective custody. I have interviewed her, and the place of birth she gives does not coincide with place on the birth certificate held by Mama Mutia. This further confirms my suspicion that it is a false document. A forensic dentist has examined her teeth, and his opinion is that her age is about fifteen. We have been in touch with the Department of Social Health and Welfare, who confirm that when she attended Hygiene on Friday morning, this girl was a virgin.

"Hu-Fan, one of the fugitives, was detained by Immigration officials at Manila airport. Nick Carter is still at large, but I am sure we will pick him up soon.

"We can now provide you with a room where you can speak confidentially with your lawyer, and we will speak again later."

The group were taken to a small conference room where Atty Florides sat at the head of the table and the others sat down the sides.

"This is a difficult case," began Atty Florides, "the evidence is cogent. You all appear to have been caught in the act of Human Trafficking. The question is, will there be any evidence to innocently explain, to exonerate? That is the issue now."

"What evidence could that be?" asked Daddy.

"There are still steps to be taken in the investigation. The girl has not yet been examined by a doctor. A female medical examiner will arrive later. If the girl proves not to be a virgin, that would undermine the case against you. If, when your suitcases were opened the contents were innocent, clothes perhaps, that would undermine the case."

Bruno thumped the table and clenched his teeth. All eyes turned to him.

"I think we would all welcome such evidence," said Daddy, "wouldn't you Bruno."

Bruno struck the table again, "Fuck you. Do what you have to do," he rasped.

"Atty Lazario referred to a number of documents; what about those?" asked Daddy.

"I have seen no such documents," said Atty Florides, "I should insist they be shown to me if they are part of the case against you. If they are unable to produce these documents, I should, of course, insist that you be released immediately. But first, I need confirmation that you wish to retain me, and we need to agree my fee."

"What fee did you have in mind?" asked Daddy.

"These are the gravest possible charges, carrying a sentence of imprisonment for life. There are seven of you. Seven million pesos is reasonable," said Atty Florides.

"If we fight the case, you would not earn a quarter of that," interjected Bruno.

"That is my fee for a swift resolution. You can of course choose another, cheaper lawyer, and fight the case out for a year while you remain in custody. This is not a bailable offence, and the outcome by no means certain," he was reminded.

"Can you at least arrange for us to access the money in our suitcases," said Bruno. 

"Of course. If you have money in your suitcase, I will ask that you have access to it when they are opened. They must be opened in front of you, and that will happen shortly," said Atty Florides.

"There are only clothes in mine," said Jordan.

"We need to confer privately," said Daddy to Atty Florides.

"I shall get a coffee. Let me know when you are ready." Atty Florides left the room.

Daddy looked at Bruno. "You're the only one who can pay 7 million. I'm good for half a million at best, and that I can't get 'till tomorrow, or Tuesday."

"Me also, half a million," said Mama.

"Me too," said Jordan.

"These guys have done their research. You are the target, we're the make-weights, but they don't care about us. Can you pay?" Daddy said to Bruno.

"Pay it all?" 

"Pay it all today. Make this go away. NOW." said Daddy.

"But what about you, what will you pay," objected Bruno.

"I'll give you my note for 1 million pesos, I'll write it out now," said Daddy.

"Me also," said Mama.

"Yes, me too." said Jordan.

"Worthless paper," said Bruno.

"Think clearly and quickly," said Daddy, "Can you raise 7 million pesos? If so, how quickly?"

Bruno, saw that there was no room for negotiation. It was, take it or leave it.

"I can do it today. I would need to use the internet," he growled through gritted teeth.

Atty Florides was summoned back, and his fee confirmed.

"We can arrange for your fee to be transferred immediately. Can you confirm that we will be released immediately," said Daddy.

"The formal review of the evidence, and the charging decision should take no more than an hour," Atty Florides informed them.

"What if I pay the money, and we're charged anyway?" asked Bruno.

"Atty Florides is an honourable man, and honourable men do not like to be found dead on a street corner, like a troublesome billy boy," said Daddy.

"Don is correct," said Atty Florides. "We must work together for a mutually satisfactory outcome. Can I offer you the use of my laptop and broadband dongle?"

Bruno and Atty Florides were left at one end of the table to make the necessary arrangements. 

After half an hour Atty Florides rose, and said, "I shall now go and see how the investigation progresses."

Another half hour elapsed before an officer came and asked the company to return to the holding area. When they entered, Blen was sitting against the opposite wall, head in hands, sobbing. 

On seeing Mama, she hurried over and threw her arms around her. "He rape me. He rape me," she sobbed onto her breast. 

"Poor girl, poor girl," comforted Mama, insincerely.

Daddy and Lamar exchanged relieved looks.

Atty Lazario bustled in, accompanied by a number of officers carrying the suitcases, which were laid on the charging desk. 

"The medical examiner has confirmed that the girl is not a virgin, and since she has been in our sight or custody since the raid, I am satisfied she was not a virgin when detained. I now need to search these suitcases, in your presence. We have matched the keys to the suitcases, and will now open them."

Jordan and Bruno were asked to identify their suitcases, and these were the first opened. They contained miscellaneous clothing. The suitcases of Nick and Hu-Fan were then opened, and they also contained clothing.

"Do you have any documentary evidence to offer," asked Atty Florides.

"Unfortunately, during the course of the night there has been a small electrical fire in the evidence room. There were a number of papers seized from the prisoners, but they were destroyed in the fire before we could examine them. This is all that is left." 

He produced a waste bin, half filled with wet ash.

"And what does the girl say?" 

"She is hostile. She will not swear an affidavit, and persists in making vexatious allegations against US."

"Then I insist that you release my clients. There is no evidence of misconduct of any sort by them."

"That is my conclusion also," said Atty Lazario, "both they and we, have been the victims of a malicious hoax. I hope your clients will accept my apology for the inconvenience occasioned them, and I ask their understanding, that with such serious allegations, we must act when we receive information. We shall, of course, issue a press statement to this effect."

Fifteen minutes later, the six left the NBI office, and stood in the sun, free persons. It was difficult for them to believe they had been in custody for only twelve hours. They all felt as though they had served a sentence; the euphoria of relief could not quite overwhelm the effects of adrenalin burnout caused by prolonged and extreme stress, and the mood of the party was flat. Some made their various ways home, to rest before reviewing the last twenty-four hours. Daddy Don and Lamar made their way to their bars to resume business as usual.

Blen made her way back to the lady-house, and, after greeting her friends and reassuring them that all had escaped the clutches of the NBI, flopped on her bed and slept. Amor roused her at six-thirty in the evening, and the girls walked together to Talent Spot. Mama and Daddy Don were back at work. 

As they huddled in the changing area with Blen to review the events of the past day, Amor came in. 

"Nick is in the bar, he is asking for you."

Blen rushed out, and Mama and Daddy followed.

"The policeman rape me," she called to Nick, as she rushed into his arms.

Nick comforted her, as Daddy asked, "Where have you been?"

While Blen sobbed on his shoulder Nick told him, "I've been lying low. But I've heard that everyone's been released, so I've come in to find out what's going on."

"All charges have been dropped. Bruno's paid seven million pesos. The evidence has been destroyed."

"Shit ... seven million pesos ... but, what about my money?" 

"There was no money in your suitcase. It was full of clothes. That was part of the deal we cut."

"Half a million fucking dollars, they've taken half a million of my fucking dollars! If they have, I'm cleaned out. I'm fucked!" exclaimed Nick.

"No more fucked than anyone else. They've also had half-a-million pesos from Jordan, 10 million from Hu-Fan and 20 million from Bruno, besides the 7 million Bruno paid to our attorney," said Daddy.

Nick calculated quickly. "Sweet fucking Jesus, that's a cool 65 million pesos." He was visibly shocked. "So what happens now?"

"Absolutely nothing happens now. We've been comprehensively fucked, but we carry on as before. Business as usual in the Philippines."

"But I have lost my cherry, I am no more a cherry girl," sobbed Blen.

"Sorry Blen. You can't be un-fucked anymore than we can," said Daddy.

"And I've lost everything, except what I have in my pocket," said Nick, pulling out a bundle of 1000p notes, the remainder of his mad money, and adding consolingly to Blen, "Well ... let me pay your first bar-fine anyway."

Nick and Blen sat in Talent Spot and enjoyed the company of Precious, Girlie and Amor at their table for several hours. 

At half-past-eleven, Nick yawned, and looked at his watch. "I'm tired. Let's go. I want to enjoy my bar-fine before I fall asleep," he said.

They left Talent Spot, walked down to MacArthur Highway and hailed a jeepney heading towards Abacan. They disembarked at the Church, and for ten minutes Nick sat with Blen as she prayed. 

He looked at his watch. "It's midnight." 

They walked toward the Charity Box. As they reached it, another figure emerged from the shadows.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Carter, Miss Baitan," said Atty Lazario, "I have your commissions here."

He held an attaché case in each hand, stretched out towards Nick and Blen.

They each took their case, laid it on the ground, and opened it.

"How much?" said Blen, looking at the piles of notes.

"3.75 million pesos. Ten-per-cent of 37.5 million," said Atty Lazario.

"And me?" asked Nick.

"3.375 million. Ten-per-cent after deducting God's ten-per-cent."

"And my dollars?" 

"Of course." 

Atty Lazario took a bundle of notes from his inside pocket, and counted ten 500 dollar bills into Nick's hand. 

"If you should have another proposition, please do contact me."

"I will," replied Blen.

Atty Lazario faded behind a pillar, and disappeared. Blen proceeded to stuff the contents of her case into the Charity Box. When that was done, they walked back towards the highway. 

"What would you like to do now?" asked Nick.

Blen nuzzled against him and giggled. "The same like last night. I will wear my costume again."

"That's the trouble with cherry girls, no imagination. Tonight, I'm going to spank your ass and fuck you doggy style while you bark like a dog."

"Woof -Woof," said Blen.