One More Night In Angeles
one night in angeles: part two.
i awoke in the lewis grand hotel poolside room snuggled up to lydia, my 18 year-old spotlight dancer. she stirred next to me, jumped up to use the cr, then returned beneath the covers for our usual morning activities. i always loved the way she kissed me, and the way she juiced up. and the way she tasted. as i later lay in a post-coital daze she propped herself up on one elbow and asked if i would come by her fields club later, to see her first modeling show. i agreed, but immediately regretted it. i was here in angeles to butterfly, not to spend both of my free nights with her. bugger.
i sent her home and settled in for a few hours of internet work time. the poolside rooms in the lewis grand hotel are not to be recommended, despite the obvious benefits to them being on the ground floor close to the bar, and to the kitchen. when you need to use these, it's great, but other guests will party, play pool and dance music long into the night, and won't give a toss about you needing some sleep. a better choice at tlg are the non-pool-side executive rooms. in any event, once my computer work was done around 5 pm it was time to head back into fields again. i was seriously considering standing lydia up, and blaming it on being too drunk, or another lame or pathetic excuse.
first stop at 6 pm on this, my second night, was the one-eyed wench. i sat down next to a pleasant german tourist en route to pattaya, and we chatted for a while. then, a sexy young thing in the dancer lineup caught my eye. soon she was sitting by me, and we were having a nice conversation. manila born, some good education in her thus far, and i quickly warmed up to her. barfine, baby? oh, she blinked. only barhop, and sleeping. no boom-boom. i'm cherry girl.
damn. i glanced down at her tag, but no virgin alert label was visible. what am i supposed to be. psychic? disappointed, i switched on good father mode, and wished her well in hawking her hymen. she was a bright girl, and had plans to use her cherry money to finish her schooling. how much did she want, i asked out of curiosity. 50, 000 pesos was the reply. not beyond my budget but virgins are not my thing. i prefer my cherries sitting on whipped cream, or floating in a cocktail. i asked her about her experience in sex thus far. had she had a boyfriend? no, she lied to me. hmmm. 1000 usd for a girl with no experience. well, if a man was willing to pay that amount of money i'm sure that's the story he would like to hear from her. i stuffed 100 peso note (a chatting tip) into her tiny palm, wished her good hunting, and scooted out the door.
now i'm over at the nile, where i had discovered small girls dancing on tables last night. table dancing is a personal weakness of mine. the girl that had caught my eye last night was still there, oscillating deliciously in a black bikini. i was not any rush, so i struck up a conversation with the waitress who, after kindly offering to let me barfine her (because i am, apparently, guwapo) told me a little about tiny girl over there in the black bikini. in retrospect she told me a bunch of hooey, but there it is. soon tiny girl was sitting to me, and i began my interview process. everyone has their style of talking to their prospective barfine. mine has evolved over time from a list of practical requirements (menstruation, do you give head, how long can you stay, and so on) to a more rapport-building approach. these days i smile and introduce myself, and then i ask about her life. where does she hail from, how long she has been working in the bar, how many siblings in her family, and such. as she happily talks about herself i get to feel her personality and, hopefully, detect some chemistry and potential fun factor. it's far from fool-proof, but it works for me. i really don't expect her to be interested in me (other than the usual how-old-are-you, and where-are-you-staying, and are-you-married standard ice-breaking enquiries) and i'm certainly not looking for stimulating conversation about global economics. the bar girl interview is about connection, and about sporty short-term potential between mutual parties. i don't even really care if she turns out to be a runner because i can always ride back into town and find a replacement within 30 minutes. i do care about having a nice time with the girl, and i put effort into treating her well, but i do want to minimizing scammers and runners. gunga's rule two: if she is not enthusiastic about being barfined, move on. if she is close to her menses, move on. if she seems cold and distant despite all your boyish charm. that's right, you know what to do.
tiny girl proved to be very chatty, the mark of many a manila girl who is more comfy with english language than girls from the provinces. so, in spite of a little roseacre thing she had on her cheeks, i barfined her and we moved on to the dollhouse for a little barhop. she had a girlfriend dancing on the stage and so, to please her, i bought the friend a ladies drink so the two of them could chat. they playfully simulated sex with each other using one of those sausage balloons, and i almost made the mistake of ponying up for a threesome. but my generosity towards tiny girl ended up being a mistake, i now realize. gunga's rule three: never be overly generous with a new girl, because it will not guarantee a good end result. (only spoil the girls that have proved to give you 100, or more). but up to know i liked tiny girl, so i broke rule three. did i mention gunga's rule one? don't break the rules unless you are prepared to pay the fine.
back at the lewis grand tiny girl promptly stripped and showered, showing no shyness and appearing confident. she also showed off the nicest little rack on a small body that i've seen for a while. if god really loves a filippina he gives her titties. but once we slid between the sheets her incessant talking proved mostly to be a defensive maneuver. she wanted to tell me about all sorts of things. baby, i'm not your best friend; you are in my bed to party. but the party was not going to happen.
so, she's naked in my bed and suddenly laying out a whole set of conditions. no rough stuff and no blow job. and i was still no nearer to getting even a peck on the lips. what am i, her husband? now, i appreciate a good negotiator and also i was in total agreement about her request for non-violence, but her timing needed some work. after ten minutes i started to lose interest in her, and got up to get dressed."why are you putting your clothes on?", she asked, more than a little startled."well, i don't' think you really want to boom-boom, baby, so i'll take you back to your club. why don't you get dressed." my mind was already moving on to plan b. then ten minutes later she confessed to a horrific experience with a european customer a few months ago, where he pretty much raped her, and degrade her in other ways. like forcing himself down her small throat, and literally throwing a pittance of a tip at her. a terrible few hours that had scarred her, and broken her sense of personal safety. i felt bad for her, and genuinely expressed my regret at her experience. then she insisted on trying to break through her resistance. i'm all-in at this point, so i think why not give her a chance. she gave me a five-minute blow job that was promising, but unmemorable, when we moved into missionary i had to go in slowly; she was amazingly tight but her pussy was not very welcoming. i gently persevered, but it seemed my initial insight was correct. she was still shell-shocked from her almost-[url=http://isgprohibitedwords.info?CodeWord=CodeWord123][CodeWord123][/url] experience, and she needed time and emotional healing to get over it. i pulled out of the snuggest fit since, well, since i could remember, and told her as kindly as i could to get dressed. thanks for the effort, sweetheart, but no thanks.
it did occur to me that this could have been one of several scams some smart filippinas will pull, in order to either generate "sympathy" money, or as a way to get back in the bar quickly in order to make some more money that night. or to ditch a customer they don't like. maybe i'm not so guwapo after all. low-level scam variations include "oh-my-god-my-menstruation-just-started" (girl displays red-ink stained bathrug or panty-liner as proof) as well as mid-level scams are "i'm-so-upset-because-i-need-money-for-something-life-threatening / essential" (cue tears, and other appeals to the man who appears besotted to them). other isg members are invited to post variations on the current scams, or the old chestnuts. generous and inexperienced players are most at risk to scams, but after the first two that bite you a pattern starts to form. we all need to stay vigilant, and be ready to cut our losses, as many scams are hard to verify in the moment of pleasure-seeking, especially so under pre- or post-sex relaxed moments. the key red flag is. you realize you are handing over a lot of money for zero product and with only the girls word for it. if a scam tractor beam is pulling you in keep your donations low enough so as not feel the pain if cheated. most of the girls are honest and hardworking, and some deserve a little extra. but the scammers and runners come in under the radar, and can spoil your whole trip. no one likes feeling cheated.
i dropped tiny girl off at her club, low-level scam or no scam, and decided i would make good on my reluctant promise to lydia. i was an hour later than she had requested, and she was pretty indifferent towards me. but it was late, and i wanted to head back to the lewis grand for some trip-closure boom-boom, and a good nights sleep. i wasn't in the mood to break in a new girl so late at night. she let me barfing her, of course, but it was seeming clear that this would be our last "date" night. lydia was limited in her english language skills, and easily disconnected from her feelings, so there was little hope in creating an on-going deal. and, let's face it: she's 18. no blame needs to go towards her, for being young. back at the hotel we did have a nice session, and we chatted a little about her life afterwards. she finally confessed to not liking to give blow jobs, something i had noticed but had not made an issue about as her kissing alone got me hard as a rock. as we fell asleep i mused that perhaps her coolness towards me was that curious filippina mystical decision that rears its head whenever they are done with you. an i'm done with you event is usually marked by a 180 degree turnaround of emotional warmth towards you when she works out you are not going to rescue her / give her any more money / are probably fucking someone else, and is usually followed up by the one final score sob-story scam ("i need a lot of money for fill-in-the-blank"). i guess i will see what kind of story she gives me in the morning, and we can go from there.
dawn broke, and my soon-to-be-ex took her time to kiss me, and roll on top of me for a very wet morning fuck. all very nice. then she pulled herself gently out of me, and vanished beneath the sheets. i felt her tugging off the condom. what the f. and then her mouth enveloped my dick, and she began to gently suck. baby, what a nice present you are giving me, i told her. she kept on sucking with all the experience of, well, an 18-year old who has never seen a porn movie in her life. well-intentioned, but unexciting. but god bless her heart, though, because she was trying to make me happy.
i sent her home with her usual generous tip, but i won't see her again. right now, i have two more hours to kill, before i head to dmia. santos street? yes. santos street, for a take-away bj back to my room. got to get some kind of release before i leave here. and santos street girls are world-class in those essential tension releasing skills. they should give lessons to regular women, and the planet would be a happier place.
