Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer
Maharajah and MayAnne
Well you could have struck me down with a feather, I just couldn’t believe that MayAnne was standing before me in the Maharajah Hotel. “How did you get up here” I asked haltingly, and in response she simply smiled and replied, “I follow to you, MayAnne have trike driver friend so he give free ride”. I looked at her in abject amazement and said, “so you followed me all the way to the hotel. I thought you were going home”? With this May Anne simply smiled and replied “MayAnne stay Martin hotel”.
Obviously I wasn’t going to get any more information from MayAnne and even though it felt like I had my own little stalker I couldn’t get the images of her in bed out of my head so I capitulated and said ‘come on then let’s go look at my room”.
Even back in 1991 the rooms in the Maharajah had obviously seen better days and yet despite the signs of wear and tear there was something about them that just made people feel at home. It might have been the golden heavy drapes that kept the sunlight and noise out, it might have been the carpeting on the floor (which in those days was a rarity in Angeles hotels), it might have been the close proximity to the pool, it might have been the super comfortable beds or it might have been the air of sex that seemed to pervade the entire hotel. Whatever the reason, the Maharajah just automatically felt like a home away from home, and this is exactly what it would become in years to come.
Prior to the Pinatubo explosion the Maharajah had obviously been a booming short time hotel. They had over 100 rooms in this hotel and it was plain to see its previous market had been people coming off the base for short time. At this stage there was only 1 swimming pool and most of the good rooms fronted onto the swimming pool. In years to come I was to stay at the Maharajah literally hundreds of times and a group of us developed a loose and casual friendship with the key being our occupancy of the Maharajah Hotel.
As we entered the room MayAnne switched on the lights, explored the room a little bit which included bouncing on the bed and then pronounced her decision, “hotel good MayAnne like”. At this time there was no cable TV which didn’t seem to phase May Anne at all and it wasn’t long before she was comfortably lying on the bed watching an old tagalog movie on the rickety old television that looked like it had escaped from a 1980’s movie set.
Seeing MayAnne had made herself right at home and was not to be disturbed I unpacked my bag, changed into some shorts and made my way to the pool which lay shimmering in the sun. For me there has always been something special about the Maharajah swimming pool that separates it from other pools. In current times there are two pools one out front of the hotel facing Don Juico Road and one out the back. In those days there was only one and this was the pool in the back.
Looking at it on surface value there is nothing particularly special about the Maharajah courtyard and pool. I really cannot put my finger on it why this pool area was so special, but for me I automatically felt relaxed and at home. Around the pool it is all concrete except for the flower beds which boast a basic foliage including the hotel owners prized orchids. There are good old fashioned sun chairs which are perfect for the sun worshipers and the pool itself is about 25 meters long, maybe a bit less, and always seemed clean and refreshing.
Another features I really liked about this area was that it was so quiet. One could sit by the pool for literally hours basking in the sunshine then dipping in the pool when the heat became to much. It was so quiet almost verging on serene and with a little imagination, hotel patrons could easily forget they were in Angeles. The pool area is also adjacent to the kitchen/restaurant area and although the food at the Maharajah sucks patrons would invariably order snacks which they and their girl would enjoy poolside.
Last but not least, I really liked the fact that after leaving the pool it was only a short stroll, or in some cases a stumble, to ones room. This of course is nothing new in today’s environment with many modern day hotels having poolside rooms but back then it was almost like the hallmark of the Maharajah. The Maharajah has always played second fiddle to the Oasis but for me this just made it more attractive because it was a cheaper price, it was less pretentious and there was always a room there.
I strolled out of my hotel room leaving MayAnne to watch TV and procured one of the sun chairs right next to the far end of the pool. I had been lying there for about half an hour just relaxing and letting my mind wander reveling in the silence when suddenly I looked up and there was a waiter delivering a tray of food to my room. Knowing that I hadn’t ordered anything I was a bit confused and then it hit me MayAnne had figured out how to use the telephone and get room service. This was my first experience of the Filipina just helping herself but it certainly wasn’t going to be my last.
With the Filipina there is almost a sense of entitlement, and in most cases they seem to have no idea of expenditure. For many of them money is something which grows on trees in the foreigners home land. They automatically perceive foreigners as having unlimited funds, and as such it is no problem spending it, because there is always more where that came from.
There are also several social ideals attached to the consumption of food. For starters it sends a psychological message that all is okay in the world. If you have a full stomach then you have access to money and can survive for another day. This may sound silly but consider where they come from in a situation where anything more than fish with a bowl of rice is a luxury, and you begin to understand. Secondly eating is a social occasion and because food is a luxury it is often shared. This is something like the Filipinas sharing their blessings or their good fortune. I saw this logic in action last year when I walked past the TV and there was Manny Pacquiao showering people with money on some sort of game show. Out of interest I asked the instant Filipino family what was going on and they replied that this was Manny’s way of “sharing his blessings”. Obviously this sharing did not work particularly well as the tax man is now after Pacquiao for his share but it was an interesting insight into Filipino culture.
I sat there in the sun chair and watched the tray of food disappear and pondered the situation for a while then made up my mind to go and talk with MayAnne about her taking me for granted. I walked into the room and was about to give MayAnne a little lecture but all thoughts of lecturing her left my head as she smiled up at me and said, “hi hon you like pood”? Taken aback and with all anger evaporated I simply smiled and shook my head and turned around top walk out the door, but as my hand touched the door handle I had a sudden stroke of inspiration. Turning back to MayAnne I said, “no food for me but I wouldn’t mind a blow job”. Straight away this bought a look of fake disgust onto MayAnne’s face and after she had swallowed her food she replied, “bastos Martin talaga”, then with a mischievous smile and a sparkling glint in her eye she looked me in the eyes and said, “why not”. Right then and there I decided I loved the Philippines and had no intention of leaving well at least not in the short term.
Upon observing MayAnne’s simple reaction I couldn’t help but compare it to that of a woman in my own country. Here in the Philippines, well at least in the bar world, sex was approached in a very matter of fact way and these girls had none of the inhibitions or angst that was so common among the white women I had known. Rather than being women’s liberationists that seemed to be against men and were hung up about sex these girls used it and their femininity as a means to get what they want, as well as a means to get physical gratification. This was certainly a world I was more comfortable in and in a way even though I hadn’t been bought up with Filipinas I could relate to their point of view more than that of women in my own country.
It took MayAnne another 15 minutes to polish off the Pancit Bihon, one of the few things the Maharajah made well, and then after a quick trip to the bathroom supposedly to wash her mouth, she pulled my shorts down and proceeded to suck on my dick like a true professional. For me I have always appreciated a good blow job and it never ceased to amaze me how the angelic brown skinned Filipinas could suck on a mans dick like it was something perfectly natural and there was no sense of the recipient owing anything to the giver. So unlike my world where if a woman gave you a blow job she acted like you owed her a favor for ever more as she had made the ultimate sacrifice.
After an extremely satisfying blow job I decided it was time for a little afternoon nap and this is where the Maharajah really came into its own. The room was delightfully chilled by the air-conditioning unit, the drapes kept the light out and the bed was awesomely comfortable. It wasn’t ten minutes before I was fast asleep while somewhere in the distance I could hear MayAnne giggling at something which was funny for her but which eluded me totally.
I think I must have slept for a couple of hours because next thing I knew I was being gently shaken awake by May Anne who announced, “I work now but come back hotel later”. Still slightly drowsy from the deep sleep I nodded and replied “sure babe I’ll see you later”. MayAnne smiled and headed towards the door but as she reached it she turned to me and with a serious look on her face she said, “no girls for you, you have girl I kill you talaga”. Before I could respond she had opened the door and disappeared down the corridor leaving me to contemplate how I had managed to get myself in yet another cock blocked situation.