Tag Archives: Asian Escapades

C How They Made Me! Chapter 68

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 68:

New friends

By the time I had woken up and MayAnne had departed it was late afternoon and for some reason I was feeling kind of drained so I decided to stay in the hotel that night or if it got to boring to restrict my bar hopping activities to the immediate area around the Maharajah. To be honest I was little worried about running into Wally as his aggravation was something I didn’t need and I was also a bit hesitant to go back to the vicinity of Ziggys where MayAnne could lay claim to me again. This girl had already dug her fingers in and I wasn’t about to help her solidify her position.

At this stage of my short but illustrious mongering career I had decided that single life is the way to go and to forget about these relationships. Of course like most men, in the long run I was in the end unable to live up this creed, but it felt right at the time, and for the next five years I certainly tried to make mongering freedom my reality.

I decided a brisk dip in the pool would wake me up and maybe a few laps would get the blood flowing again, so I grabbed a towel and headed out to the pool. Being after 5 there was literally nobody else in the pool and I decided to make the most of the opportunity and swim a few laps. Growing up near the beach I had always been a competent swimmer and doing laps of a pool or swimming in the surf was a regular occurrence in my youth and I was completely unaware a large number of Filipinos cannot swim.

I dived in the pool and started gently swimming laps and after completing about ten I stopped for a breather and suddenly I felt eyes upon me. I looked around and sure enough there in the restaurant area were three women and two guys just staring at me. Not sure what had them so enthralled I simply smiled at them and waved to which I received a smile back from all of them and then they carried on their conversation with the occasional furtive glance in my direction.

After the swim I was feeling like a new man and I had definitely worked up a hunger, so I headed over to the restaurant area, only to come face to face with two of the women who had been watching me swim. When I saw them I smiled and said, “hello girls is there any chance I can order some food because all that swimming has made me hungry”. Both the young ladies looked away from me and turned their heads as they giggled. Right about now I wasn’t sure what to do so I just took a seat at one of the tables and said, “can I have a menu please”? This bought another series of giggles and both the girls scurried away leaving me sitting in the restaurant by myself.

I had been sitting there for about two minutes and was just about to get out of my seat and berate the staff for their non existent service when from behind some closed doors a man appeared and presented me with a menu. I surveyed the menu and to say it was limited would be an understatement. I looked at the guy who was standing beside me waiting for my order and said can you recommend something as I don’t see anything that really sparks my interest here”. He looked at me with a look of benign amusement on his features and replied, I recommend the pork and chicken adobo. Everybody like that. “Okay” I said, I will have the adobo and to drink I would like a coke please”.

He took my order, took back the menu and exited the restaurant, once again leaving me sitting there with my own thoughts. I had no idea how long the food would take and I was just about to go back to my room to get a book to read when from behind me I heard the giggling again. I turned around and there were the two girls just staring at me and giggling. By this time I was totally perplexed and rather than just ignore the situation I decided to confront them and find out what was so amusing. I got out of my seat and smiled at the girls then I asked, “would you ladies care to join me for a drink”?

The girls looked at me somewhat aghast and both just stood there giggling. Thinking they didn’t understand I made the motions indicating drinking and they both giggled again and slowly made their way towards my table. When they reached me I offered them each a chair which they hesitatingly took and I asked them very slowly, “what can I buy for you ladies to drink”? In response I got another giggle and then one of them replied, “we like sprite”.

With the ice partially broken I thought I was on a roll and I was just about to get up and hunt down a waiter when one of the girls said, “I be the one” and with that she rose and disappeared into the kitchen area. Literally 1 minute later she was back with two sprites which both the girls proceeded to sip on while staring and giggling at me. By this time I was a completely nonplused. I literally had no idea what was going on or why these girls were seemingly fixated with me but not being one to let a challenge like this get the better of me I decided to put in some work and find out what the heck was going on.

While I waited for my food we made halting small talk and I found out both the girls worked at the hotel in the kitchen. These two sweet young women must have been about 22 but both had the childlike sense of humor that made them seem so much younger. It was hard for me to ascertain just how much they understood because they would only speak English sparingly and most of the time would chat with each other in Tagalog and simply giggle.

After about 15 minutes my food was delivered and as the waiter approached our table I thought I detected a sour look on his face so I said to him, “hey mate you have been a really good waiter could I buy you a drink or something just to say thank you”. The waiter seemed a little nonplused by my sudden offer and after a quick chat with the girls he said to me in English, “sure why not but what we would really like is some food”.

Then it hit me, these guys probably see guests pigging out on food all the time while they have bugger all money to buy anything for themselves and as this realization dawned I made what turned out to be a very fortuitous decision. I looked at him squarely in the eyes and replied, “how many of you guys are there in the kitchen” to which he replied, “two more” and I said, “well if it’s allowed, how about I buy a meal for everyone here”. The waiter looked at me seemingly in shock and then as my offer began to sink in he replied, “for a while sir” and went scurrying back into the kitchen.

After what seemed like ages but was probably only a matter of minutes he returned and said, “sir if it’s okay to you we would like crispy pata”. At this stage I had no idea what crispy pata was so I simply smiled and replied, “that’s cool with me man, crispy pata it is”.

From that point on the night began to get interesting. It must have been about half an hour later when three Filipino guys came and joined our table bringing with them a huge dish of what looked like pork but with all the bones and fat still attached. I was in later years to learn this is what is called crispy pata and it is considered a delicacy here in the Philippines but at this stage I was still a ‘newbie’ and just going along with the flow.

The three guys joined our table and before long we were all getting along like a house on fire with everyone telling jokes and me relating stories about my country and also my experiences in the Philippines. The guys certainly seemed friendly enough and after the meal they suggested we have a few beers and play some cards. I asked the girls if they thought this was a good idea and each of them smiled and nodded their ascent. Within seconds there appeared 3 bottles of San Miguel in a bucket of ice and a fourth one that had already been opened along with a glass of ice.

Having come from Australia I considered drinking beer with ice sacrilegious but it was very obvious to me that this was how it was done in the Philippines and not wishing to offend the locals I simply decided to go with the flow and drink the beer over ice like they did.

No sooner had the beer appeared than the dishes were cleared away and a pack of cards produced. The guys told me this was a game called pusoy dos and asked if I knew how to play. I replied in the negative and said I would just watch a few hands first and see if I could pick it up. As it turned out Pusoy Dos is very similar to Jim Rummy but with a few extra twists and rules so it really wasn’t that hard for me to pick up. I watched about five hands as well as partaking in a chug of beer each time the glass was presented and I then felt I had got the basics of the game and it was time for me to join in.

The details of that night are a bit hazy as the beer seemed to be on a never ending tap and every 5 minutes the glass was in my hand with the Filipinos encouraging me to drink it down in one. To this day I am pretty sure I never won a single hand but then again it didn’t seem to matter because we were all having such a great time and the hours seemed to fly by.

Even though the communication barrier was very much in effect that didn’t seem to stop us from becoming friends and understanding each other. I was having a thoroughly enjoyable time with my new found friends when suddenly I noticed it was 1:AM and with the beer buzzing my head I announced that it was past my bedtime and I would see them all tomorrow.

Feeling somewhat drunk I raised myself to a standing position smiled at the girls and said good night politely, then I shook each guys hand and assured them we would play again tomorrow night. With goodbyes said I now stumbled back to my room which luckily for me wasn’t far away, I opened the door, turned on the light and then without even bothering to get undressed flopped on the bed.

I have no idea how long I lay there in a drunken stupor but I remember being woken up by a gentle but consistent knocking on my door. With blurry eyes and my head now throbbing with the beginnings of a massive hangover I made my way to the door, opened it and there standing in the open doorway with a mischievous smile on her face, was one of the girls whom I had been playing cards with.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 67

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 67

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.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 66

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 66

A parting of the ways in AC

As soon as MayAnne spotted me she broke out in a big smile, shouted hello and then breezed over and planted a kiss on my lips right in front of Wally. At this moment I felt like total scum and incredibly embarrassed and all the time, even though I wasn’t looking at him directly, I could tell Wally was seething. In hindsight Wally had no right to be so pissed off , I mean he had gone first and he had just finished giving me a lecture on sharing is caring, but I guess it was hard for him to practice what he preached.

At the time Wally’s hypocrisy didn’t dawn on me, in fact quite the opposite. I was feeling about as low as a snakes belly and I waited in trepidation for the tirade I knew was coming my way. MayAnne although having been with Wally just a few hours before me, seemed completely oblivious to Wally’s presence which must have rubbed salt on his wounded ego, and I could sense his anger about to boil over.

Deciding diplomacy was the better part of valor I gently lifted May Anne of my lap and told her I was sorry but she had to go now as I had to talk with Wally. I held her hand and walked her out through the reception. When we were outside the hotel I hailed a trike and subtly slipped 300 peso into her hand while promising to come and bar fine her later that night. May Anne although a bit miffed at being sent on her way, seemed to accept my promise and she lithely jumped into the trike and headed on her way.

So now it was time to face the music and with a feeling of trepidation I headed back into the hotel to face an angry Wally. As soon as I walked into the restaurant area Wally confronted me saying, “you are a shit head Martin, you’re a fucking slime lower than a snakes cunt”. At this stage I was feeling pretty bad so I decided to take his abuse and let him blow of steam. Then maybe when he had calmed down a bit I would talk with him rationally. This was my thoughts, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out like that. Wally by this time was riled up, he had something to say and he was going to get it off his mind no matter what.

“Listen dickhead” he said, “you knew I liked that girl so why did you have to fuck her, there are so many other sheilas but you have to get her. You are scum Martin and I hope someone belts the shit out of you”. As I have said I wasn’t feeling exactly proud of my actions but Wally was going a little bit far, and despite my resolution to remain silent his latest tirade got under my skin and I was now going to fight back. “Listen mate what was it you were saying before something along the lines of sharing is caring? Seems to me you should practice what you preach”. Wally was momentarily phased by this but recovered quickly to say, “it’s different with May Anne I really like her and you fucking knew that”. “Wait a minute” I replied “I had no idea you really liked her, this wasn’t personal mate, she is working in the bar and besides she chose me, not the other way round”.

Upon hearing this Wally was a little taken aback but recovered quickly to say, “I don’t believe you. I told her I really liked her and was planning to take her out of the bar and when she left me she said she was going home to tell her mum she was stopping work and coming to live with me”. Now it was my turn to be taken aback so I sat down and tried to get my thoughts together then after a moments contemplation I told Wally, “well mate I had no idea about any of this and if I had I never would have gone near her”. He looked at me with smoldering hatred in his eyes and said, “well how thick are you then, you’re a fucking dickhead” and with that said, walked out of the room.

I have observed similar situations as the one between myself and Wally on many occasions and each time I do, I think to myself, why does one guy blame the other guy when at the end of the day it is basically the woman’s fault, as much if not more so, than the other guy. In this particular case it was definitely MayAnne’s fault as she was the one who initiated contact with blatant disregard for Wally’s feelings. Then again, perhaps she like me, had no idea of the intensity of Wally’s feelings for her. All of these thoughts were racing through my head and at the end of the day I was pretty sure I wasn’t to blame totally but the trouble was how could I convince Wally of this.

So now I was left alone in the restaurant with feelings of guilt rushing through my body, feeling just as Wally had described me, a dick head. Yet despite my feelings of guilt somewhere deep inside there was a feeling of righteousness. In the back of my mind I knew that this was an over reaction by Wally and that it was MayAnne who had initiated things, not me. I was kind of tempted to confront Wally with this and explain to him that I wasn’t a mind reader but in the end I chickened out, and deciding discretion is the better part of valor, I finished breakfast, made my way back to my room, packed my gear and headed off to Fields in search of another hotel.

I was walking up Fields Avenue and got to where Philies is now, where a young Filipino guy stepped in front of me and said, “hotel sir”? Normally I would have brushed past this very obvious tout but at the time my bags were beginning to get heavy and the guy assured me this was the best hotel in Angeles at a very good price. In hindsight it was probably a risky proposition following an unknown Filipino guy but luckily for me this guy turned out to be legit and even genuinely helpful.

Once I said to the guy, “okay I will have a look at the hotel” a trike appeared from nowhere and next thing I knew my bags were being packed on top of the trike, then with me tucked inside the minute trike cabin and my new found guide, sitting side saddle on the back seat, we made our way up Fields Avenue onto what is colloquially referred to as Perimeter Road.

I am never quite sure what to expect when a Filipino says a hotel is close. Sometimes it is literally a 5 minute stroll and other times it’s a twenty minute ride in a dilapidated old trike. This turned out to be the later and as we crossed over the railway tracks that mark Checkpoint I was thinking to myself shit, I wonder where these two are taking me but then decided well there’s nothing much I can do about it now so I will just go along for the ride and see what happens.

The trike ride to my new hotel took about twenty minutes as we were literally crawling along at a snails pace, plus the driver had to stop to have a piss by the side of the road. Eventually the trike took a left turn following a big sign saying Maharajah Hotel. The Maharajah sounds fairly opulent, I thought to myself, and I hoped I would be able to afford the place. We pulled up at the big glass doors that mark the entry to the Maharajah and within seconds my guide had my bags off the top of the trike and was standing around with an expectant look on his face. I asked him how much for the trike and he told me 100 piso which in those days was a hefty amount but I didn’t know so I rummaged through me wallet and handed him 100 piso for the trike, plus another hundred for himself. I explained what this was for and I must have done something right because this guy upon receiving my tip suddenly went from guiding stranger to my new best friend. He insisted on accompanying me into the hotel and would help me book in. He grabbed my bags and proceeded into the rather grand reception area of the Maharajah Hotel which unbeknownst to me was to become my home away from home whenever I was to visit Angeles in the coming years.

At first glance the Maharajah is really quite impressive, well at least for those times it was and again I found myself wondering if I would be able to afford to stay there. We proceeded up to the counter where two friendly ladies smiled at me and said in unison, “welcome to the Maharajah Hotel sir”. Okay I thought to myself, this is starting out okay, but I better find out how much this joint is. Before I could respond a piece of cardboard like paper was pushed at me and I was politely asked to fill in the form.

For me this was standard procedure that I was used to when living in Australia so I started filling in the form like a good little tourist. On the form there were all the usual questions name, age, country of origin etc then down the bottom was a space to fill in your rank. When I came to this section I told the ladies, “sorry I am not in the services, I don’t have any rank”. Upon hearing this she seemed a bit shocked but recovered quickly enough to say, “no problem sir, just leave that part” Looking back on it the ‘rank’ request on the form was perfectly natural because previously, 99.9% of their customers had been American military personnel. I however was the new breed of invader, and I like to think I was one of the first Southern hemisphere boys who discovered the Maharajah and I know for many years to come, when I met people in Manila who were coming up to Angeles, I would recommend them to the Maharajah Hotel.

After being told to ignore the rank request I asked the lady how much a night the hotel was and she replied 500 piso which in those days with an exchange rate of about 28 to 1 represented about 18 Australian dollars. I thought to myself well this isn’t to bad but since it is out of the way and I don’t see many other customers, I bet I can make a deal for a lesser price. I looked at the lady and gave her what I thought was one of my best smiles and asked her, “how about a discount for longer staying clients”, to which she replied, “how long do you plan on staying” and when I answered, one week, she replied, “okay sir we can give you a room for 450 piso a night but that’s 2 nights payment in advance please sir”. Once again I gave her my best smile and said, “make it 400 a night and I will give you four days payment in advance”. She looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eye as if to say who does this cheeky young foreigner think he is trying to bargain with me. She looked at my guide and there was a quick exchange in Tagalog, then she turned back to me and said normally our maximum discount is 50 piso sir but because you are staying one week we will give you a room for four hundred a night with four days in advance payment”. I replied you have a deal and after rummaging through my wallet, an occurrence that happens far to often here in the Philippines, I pulled out 1600 peso handed it to her and next thing I knew was being given directions to my room.

My guide wanted to carry my bags into my room but being a bit wary of this seemingly over friendly Filipino I told him thanks for the offer but I am a big boy and can handle my own luggage. With this said I thanked him again for his help, picked up my bags and made my way towards my room.

I did not know it at the time, but the Maharajah was to become my favorite AC hotel and over the coming years I got to know the staff at the Maharajah well. Some of them even became long term friends who I am still close to some 21 years later.

I was just taking my first steps into the outside dinning area by the pool when I heard a girls voice calling out my name. Thinking I had left something behind at the reception I turned around only to be confronted by a perpetually energetic MayAnne.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 65

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 65

Cutting Wally’s Grass

Having just had an awesome blow job from a glamour that supposedly went out very rarely, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I walked out of the toilet trying to hold back my smug contented smile but this was more easily said than done. I don’t think I did a very good job because as I rejoined the group of drinkers one of the guys looked at me and said, “what you so happy about mate, you look like you just won the bloody lottery”. I looked at him and quickly blurted out something about reading the jokes on the toilet wall, and then to take the attention away from me, I hailed a waitress and ordered another round.

With the round of drinks delivered I was soon forgotten and the discussion moved onto Australian sports and the eternal argument, which is better Aussie rules or Rugby League. In my day I was a decent rugby player and was quite knowledgeable about the game so this conversation was something I could easily contribute to. The discussion, as nearly all such discussions do, soon became quite animated with each side expressing their point of view adamantly. I was just about to make a counter point when one the guys said to me, “hey look at that young fella. Isn’t that Carla the one you were buying drinks for, pashing with that bloke”. I followed the direction of his finger and there sure enough was Carla sitting on some guys lap passionately embracing and kissing him.

When I saw this I couldn’t help but break out into a huge smile and have a little chuckle to myself. Images of her sucking my dick ten minutes ago just wouldn’t leave my head and yet here she was kissing this guy like he was the long lost love of her life. I thought to myself I wonder if I should tell the guy but then thought to myself no why bother what he doesn’t know wont hurt him and why spoil his good time anyway. The guy who had originally pointed her actions out saw the smile on my face and said ” that’s the best way to handle it mate, always have a laugh at these shielas. Fuck it you buy her a few drinks and this is how she treats you best thing you can do is laugh at it and never get to serious mate”.

Upon hearing this I couldn’t contain my laughter any more and broke out in a huge chuckle. The guys in the drinking group must have thought I was wacko but they soon moved on from me as the discussion once again changed and they all became instant experts as they argued about who was the greatest boxer ever.

By now the drinks were beginning to take their toll and as much as I was enjoying the chin wag with my new found friends, I thought to myself, if I want to sit around drinking beer talking about anything and everything I can do that at home. I had come to the Philippines to meet girls and sitting in this group was not exactly conducive to this end. I paid my bill, said my goodbyes to the boys and then proceeded to head out the bar. On the way out I walked past Carla who while still sitting on this guys lap, looked over his shoulder and gave me the most lascivious smile I have ever seen on a woman anywhere in the world.

Still dazed at the gall of Carla, I made it to the front door opened it only to bump straight into MayAnne. Little MayAnne looked at me and said, “Martin why you leave now, I come back look to you”. “Wait a minute” I stammered, “Wally barfine you, so why are you back here”? Completely non pulsed MayAnne replied, “I like go you not Wally”. Ordinarily a situation like this would ring alarm bells, but it was getting late, I was half way inebriated and little MayAnne was a really cute spinner who I just couldn’t say no to.

Throwing caution to the wind I said to MayAnne, “okay honey if you want to go with me let’s do it, I am leaving now and if you want to come with me you are more than welcome”. Upon hearing this she gave me a beaming smile and replied “you pay mamasan”. I thought about this and asked her, “why do I have to pay when Wally has already paid” and she replied, “Wally only short time, you long time, so must pay mamasan”. At this stage I really should have known better but the good old little head got the better of me and next thing I knew I was digging through my wallet and handing over 300 peso for the bar fine.

MayAnne dashed off and within an instant she was back and inserting her arm through mine, escorted me out the bar. Once outside we got a trike back to the Bonanza hotel which I think was a massive 30 piso, (yes the trikes were reasonable back then unlike today) and within ten minutes we were walking into the Bonanzas foyer. The front desk lady was fast asleep at the front desk so I gently shook her to wake her up but upon opening her eyes she gave a quizzical look. I followed the direction of her gaze and of course she was having a hard time concealing her contempt of MayAnne. At first I thought to myself , wait a minute aren’t the hotels here supposed to be tourist and girl friendly and then it dawned on me. This lady had probably seen MayAnne a couple of hours before accompanying Wally. I was about to ask her have you got a problem but then I thought better of it, told her my room number and asked politely for the key. My request seemed to bring her attention back to me and as if coming out of a daze she reached behind her, picked up my room key and handed it to me. Barely able to contain my temper of this judgmental bitch I gave her a smirk, grabbed MayAnne by the hand and headed to my room for another torrid sexual encounter.

I have always found it a good sign if the girl indicates that she is attracted to you, invariably these have been the best sexual encounters, but on the other hand, I have also found that if the girl really likes you and has invested serious feelings in you, then she is invariably lousy in the bed. It’s strange how that works in the Philippines, but for some reason when the girl loves you she will often be overcome with a sense of shyness which stops her from performing in the bed.

With MayAnne however there was no such problem. Yes it was obvious that she was attracted to me but this was a far cry from love, and her sexual performance was indicative of this. MayAnne was obviously out to impress and no sooner had we entered the room she dropped to her knees, undid my pants and proceeded to give me an absolutely stupendous blow job. I don’t know who had taught this girl, but whoever it was had done a masterful job. While she was sucking on my dick I must admit I did experience a fleeting pang of guilt when thinking about Wally in the room next door, but as I said this was only fleeting because MayAnne certainly knew what she was doing and it was not exactly easy to concentrate on anything other than the mind blowing orgasm that was rapidly building up in my loins.

May Anne must have been blowing me for only about 5 minutes when all of a sudden I could contain myself no longer and next thing I knew I was exploding in her mouth. Once my seed was inside her mouth MayAnne daintily stood up and walked to the bathroom as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

That night was a memorable one as May Anne was a little pocket rocket and I managed to get in three rounds of energetic sex. At one stage we were doing it doggie style and the bed head was banging against the wall to the extent where I was afraid we would wake Wally up in the room next door. MayAnne was also extremely vocal and often I would burry her head in the pillow while pounding her. I seem to remember it was about 2 and a half hours between rounds and after each one I thought I was spent but MayAnne with her brilliant oral skills would always find a way to make me rise to the occasion.

The next morning at about 10:30 I wandered downstairs feeling a subtle mixture of absolute contentment exhaustion etched on my features and who should be occupying the little restaurant area, you got it none other than my traveling buddy Wally. When he saw me entering the room he smiled broadly and said, “Marty my old mate, you’re the frigging man. Who was that one you had last night mate she was a noisy bitch, must have been a great shag, I couldn’t bloody sleep mate”. At this stage I tried my hardest to keep a straight face and then Wally said, “listen mate if you wouldn’t mind can you tell me who the girl was you had last night and where she works”?

Oh shit I thought to myself, how the fuck am I going to get out of this one. I sat there slowly turning red with beads of sweat dotting my forehead and then carefully replied, “she works in Ziggys but I cant remember her name”. He looked at me quizzically and replied, “geez mate if I had a good one like that I’d share her with my mates, sharing is caring mate”. I looked at him thinking if you only knew Wally if you only knew, then replied, “no I’m serious mate. I really cant remember her name. I’m hopeless with names, really not trying to hide her from you, promise”.

Wally looked at me with a serious expression and replied, “okay Martin I believe you mate but if we go into Ziggys tonight can you introduce me mate if she is there”. With a sigh of relief I replied, “yeah sure” thinking that this would give me time to brief MayAnne and everything would be okay. Wally seemed satisfied with this and turned back to his coffee. Feeling like I had dodged a bullet I felt the tension flow away and just as I was relaxing Wally suddenly sat alert and looking over at the reception said, “what the fuck, that looks like MayAnne my girl from last night. That little bitch short timed me last night and when I asked her to stay she said she had to get back to the bar because she was feeling sick. I reckon the little slut probably did another short time with some guy who was staying here. Tell you what Marty you just cant trust any of the little shit heads”.
Upon hearing Wally I felt a sudden shiver down my spine and followed his gaze to the reception area and there was MayAnne talking with the receptionist. Instantly I turned my head trying my best impression of a turtle pulling it’s head in beneath its shell but I was to late. MayAnne turned around, saw me waved and shouted out, “hello honey”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 64

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 64

Meeting miss Carla.

Wally grabbed MayAnn in a tight hug then placing her back on the ground he turned to me and said “come on mate I will introduce you to some of the boys”. Wally lead me up to the top of the stage where a bunch of older Australians were gathered all seemingly involved in some deep conversation conducted over rounds of beer. I was thinking twice about butting in, since I didn’t know these guy’s, and I knew how I would feel if someone butted into my conversation in my local. But there was no such restraint for Wally who simply marched up to them together with MayAnn and myself and said, “gooday fellas I want you to meet a mate of mine, Marty. He’s come up from Manila and never been to Angeles before”.

My initial reaction upon hearing this introduction was one of embarrassment but the boys soon put me at ease by saying, “hello mate how’s it going, pull up a stool mate, come and have a drink mate”. From out of nowhere a shapely young waitress suddenly produced two chairs and with a bit of shuffling Wally and I inserted ourselves into the group. MayAnn who still had a tight grasp on Wally’s hand was unceremoniously seated on Wally’s lap and proceeded to wiggle her pert little butt against him every time she needed a drink or felt like getting his attention.

The conversation ranged from the Government in Australia, sports and life in the Philippines. This was a bunch of blokes who although proudly Australian seemed as though they had moved on from their country or Australia had moved on from them leaving them behind in Angeles City Philippines. And the irony was they were actually more comfortable living on the fringes of Filipino society than they were living in Australia. As one of the elder blokes said to me, “mate I will always be true-blue Aussie and proud of it, but fair dinkum mate I don’t reckon I could live in the joint anymore”. This comment seemed to be meet general agreement from the group and I found myself wondering if I would ever get like that. Little did I know that moment was just around the corner, because once you get a taste of the Philippines, for most, it’s a long time habit.

Looking back on this I realize that what these guys were telling me is the feelings of expats all over the world, we are literally strangers in a strange land. We are people who don’t fit into either society, not the one we have left and not the one we have adopted, we are fringe dwellers. For me this was all a bit heavy because at that time I was there for the pussy and figured if I wanted to hear some strangers life story I could do that back in the pub in New Zealand or Australia. At the same time I didn’t mean to be rude so I decided it was my round and promptly ordered one for all the guys in the group. This decision was met with much approval and a chorus of good on ya mate and some gentle back slaps, made me realize I had made the right decision.

The conversation ebbed and flowed with everyone getting slowly more and more drunk. After about 80 minutes of this Wally decided he had more important things to do, so grabbing the already changed MayAnn he signaled the waitress, bought one more round, then paid his bill at the same time saying goodbye to all the group. On her way out MayAnn was behind Wally and as she brushed past me she deftly gave my dick a subtle little squeeze and blew me a little kiss. This was both a turn on and a source of embarrassment since the last thing I wanted to do was have a problem with Wally, especially since he was the one who had brought me to Angeles, this was his turf and these were his mates so for me to be with MayAnn would have been really stupid.

Luckily for me my lack of reaction must have been the right thing because Wally was completely unaware of her actions and the guys who had seen it simply chose to give me a knowing smile and continue drinking their beer. About two hours into what was rapidly becoming a mammoth drinking session, I noticed this girl on stage and thought to myself, wow I wouldn’t mind a bit of that. Not being super comfortable as this was a new environment for me, I cut short one of the guys who was reciting yet another yarn and asked them about the girl. They informed me her name was Carla and she was supposedly one of the best performing girls in the bar. She had a reputation as being a bit of a drama queen but when in the mood was a orally skilled and a good performer.

Hearing this was more than enough for me so I made my polite excuses and grabbing my bill I got up and moved closer to the section of the bar where Carla was dancing. Carla saw me coming, smiled at me, then turned her back on me. It has never ceased to amaze me how these girls working the bar can sense your interest even if you have made no indication of it. Carla knew I was interested but she wasn’t about to give in, she was acting stuck up and she was going to make me work for it.
I must have watched Carla for about 3 songs then after trying various means to get her attention and failing miserably I made my way back to the group of guys at the top of the stage only to be greeted by snide little chuckles and the one of them said, “sorry mate we forgot to tell you her nickname. That’s Carla the cunt”. This was greeted by another round of chuckles and then one of the other guys said, “don’t worry buddy, you’re not the first to be rejected by Carla and you sure as shit won’t be the last.

Being an object of pathetic fun was not exactly my idea of a good time and this last statement was like a challenge to me, so I decided then and there, that I would get this Carla girl, no matter what it took. I smiled lightly at the guy who had issued the challenge then ordered another round as I sat back and worked out my strategy. It was then that the wise advise of David Goldshaft came back to me, if a girl is playing stuck up buy her a drink anyway, and if she still isn’t interested buy her one more but on the second one make it something strong, just to show her the balls still in your court”.

With David’s words echoing in my head I called the ever attentive shapely young waitress over and ordered Carla a drink. The waitress smiled and scurried off, to return 3 minutes later then place Carla’s drink on the bar before me. Carla obviously knew what was going on because with a sultry waggle of her hips she turned round and proceeded to walk towards me. She came right up to me, gave me a provocative look which said come and get me big boy, delicately held the drink, said thank you and then proceeded to walk back to where she had been dancing previously.

Of course all the guys had been watching this and Carla’s rebuffing of my advances elicited another round of chuckles. Feeling a little bit crestfallen I managed to put a brave smile on my face and said, “wait fellas, I’m not finished yet”. I called the waitress over once again and ordered 3 tequilas for Carla. Once again the waitress placed them on the bar in front of me and once again Carla sauntered over and looking me straight in the eye said, “thank you”. With this said she then picked up the Calamansi rubbed it on the top of her right hand, sprinkled it with salt, and with a delicate lady like motion, downed the first Tequila. This process was repeated twice more and once again Carla stood up, turned her back to me and sauntered back to where she had been dancing.

Watching the expression on my face was obviously a source of great amusement for the more experienced fellows as they were all chuckling without restraint. Obviously I had bummed out, and the guys laughter was hardly helping the matter, so I decided to pay my bill and leave. I asked the waitress to total my bill, said goodbye to the guys admitting that they had won, and then made my way to the toilet to let some of the beer out. I was standing next to the urinal with my back turned towards the door, when suddenly I felt a presence. I pushed as hard as I could to finish peeing, quickly zipped up my jeans and turned round, only to be confronted by Carla standing by the toilet door, with a cheeky sparkle in her eyes.

You like Carla she asked me and at a total loss for words I mumbled something like, yeah I sure do but before the words were out of my mouth she had grabbed my hand and was leading me inside the toilet cubicle. Carla shut the toilet door and while kissing me let her left hand wander down to my crotch and deftly undid my zipper. Next thing I knew I was standing there with my jeans around my ankles and the vision of unadulterated lust down on her knees giving me a fabulous blow job, the likes of which I have rarely found even after 22 years of living in AC.

I have no idea where Carla learned her techniques but this girl was absolutely fabulous and within minutes I felt the intoxicating effects of orgasm welling up in my body and brain. It was only a few strokes later and I was exploding in Carla’s mouth. To her credit Carla never spilt a drop and swallowed everything.

After the deed was done Carla simply smiled, opened the toilet door and sauntered out acting like nothing had happened. With legs still trembling I reached down picked up my pants and proceeded to exit the toilet. I was trying my best to look perfectly innocent but just had to break out in a huge smile when the CR attendant smiled at me and asked, “you leave tip sir”?

C How They Made Me! Chapter 63

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 63

It had to happen sooner or later.

With her arm firmly entwined round mine Daisy marched me into the bar and sat me down next to Jake. Jake looked at me and with a serious expression said, “listen mate I got some bad news for ya, looks like Daisy has a bit of a problem coz she failed health check today”, I looked at him somewhat incredulously and replied “failed the health check, what does that mean”? Jake looked at me like I had come down in the last shower and replied, “she’s got a dose mate”. Now at this stage I was still somewhat na├»ve and inexperienced when it came to STD’s so I asked Jake, what do you mean she’s got a dose, a dose of what? Once again Jake gave me the, is this kid for real look, then said, “she’s got the clap, the drip, gonorrhea mate”.

And then it dawned on me, if Daisy had it then chances are I also had it. As this realization came crashing down on me I just sat there and turned ghostly white. After about three minutes and a few steadying gulps of Jim Beam I hesitatingly asked Jake, hey Jake your telling me I may have gonorrhea as well, so what do I do about it? Jake smiled and replied, “if I was you I would go pay a visit to the one armed bandit and get a shot in the arse”. Not understanding what Jake was talking about I said who or what is the one armed bandit, to which Jake replied, “oh that’s Doctor DeGuzman he is the local doc, who deals with the clap mate. We call him the one armed bandit because he only has one arm”. With that said Jake gave me directions to the doctors and told me just grab a trike from outside and tell him take me to the doc’s place. They all know where he lives mate and for fucks sake put a smile on your face mate, it’s not the end of the world. All of us have had a dose at sometime mate, and it’s just part of living in Angeles”.

Upon hearing this I gulped down my drink, paid the bill, and headed out the door. Once outside I hailed a nearby trike and told him, “take me to Doc DeGuzman please”. The trike driver gave me a wry little smirk and replied, “walang problemo” and next thing I knew I found myself folded into a rickety old side car. With me feeling much like a sardine in a can we made our way to the doctors. While crammed into the trike I pondered Jakes words and thought to myself, the clap may be a common experience for the likes of Jake but for me this is a big problem and very embarrassing.

The trike driver knew Doctor Deguzmans place and within minutes I found myself standing outside his little house that doubled as a surgery. I paid the trike who then took off leaving me standing there feeling acutely embarrassed. At this stage I wasn’t experiencing any symptoms and I was telling myself, you don’t know if you have any infection so why bother going in, then on the other hand I was thinking, come on Martin it’s only one injection and its better to be safe than sorry.

I entered DeGuzmans house and came face to face with this quirky little one armed bespectacled guy, wearing a white doctors coat. In the Philippines image is always important and obviously Dr DeGuzman felt the jacket was a necessary prerequisite if he was to be seen as a true doctor. At first glance DeGuzman looked like something out of the twilight zone and this whole experience was surreal.

De-Guzman took one look at me and said step into my office sir. The tone of his voice was somehow ominous and I thought to myself, shit is it physically visible that I have a dose. Upon reflection I realize that this was just me being paranoid and that De Guzman in his time had probably seen literally thousands of men with the clap, but back then I was young and inexperienced, so this whole situation gave me the jitters.

I followed De Guzman into his office like a little puppy dog and once I had sat down he smiled and said, “what seems to be the problem”. I explained to him that I had been with a girl who had been found positive for gonorrhea, so I had come to him for a checkup. Upon hearing this De Guzman gave me a knowing look then asked, “have you experienced any symptoms yet”, to which I replied I don’t think so. This time he looked at me questioningly and replied, “sir do you know what the symptoms are”, to which I embarrassingly replied, “actually Doc I have no idea, I have never been exposed to anything like this before”.

When he heard this De Guzman seemed genuinely surprised and next thing I knew he was shoving a book at me saying, “look at the pictures and tell me if you have anything like that”. Suddenly the situation had gone from surreal to downright bizarre. This book was some kind of medical journal and in it were graphic pictures of gonorrhea infected penis’s and vaginas. To this day I am still not 100% sure why De Guzman made me view this book, maybe it was some sort of lesson, maybe he was trying to shock me, or maybe he just wanted me to be aware of the gravity of the situation so he could charge me more.

I skipped through the book with my stomach doing cartwheels, beads of cold sweat dotting my forehead, and my complexion turning ghostly white. This book can only be described as graphic, and at one time my breakfast nearly came up. After paying what I thought was the appropriate amount of time viewing the book, I closed it, and told De Guzman, “luckily for me Doc I am not experiencing any of those symptoms.” De Guzman actually seemed a little bit disappointed when he heard this, but rebounding quickly he responded by saying, “well sir I will give you a shot anyway just to be sure”.

I don’t know about other guys but for me I have always disliked needles, it’s not a morbid fear like most Filipinos have, but it is a strong dislike, and I am never truly comfortable receiving a shot. If I didn’t know better I could have sworn De Guzman somehow sensed my discomfort and he almost seemed to relish it. After having informed me he would give me the shot he proceeded over to a small fridge where he kept the needles and pulling out a large syringe with brownish colored liquid he said, “go over to the table take your pants down and bend over”.

This for me was one of those life pondering moments. If you had of told me five years ago that one day I would be bending over a metal table in the lahar filled backstreets of Angeles City baring my buttocks, while a quirky little one armed guy was preparing to inject me with a huge needle filled with vile brown fluid, I would have said you were mad. Yet despite the bizarreness of the situation, it was happening and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Moments of my life flashed before my eyes and I remember thinking about all the decisions I had made that had lead up to this, then suddenly I felt a sharp prick in my behind, and the sound of Dr De Guzman’s voice as he instructed me to remain still. Instantly I froze and then 5 seconds later Dr De Guzman extracted the needle, announced that we were done and I should pay 1000 piso to his receptionist outside.

I pulled up my pants, thanked the good doctor for his time and proceeded to head outside. The receptionist looked at me with a knowing smile with just a hint of mischieviousness and announced, “that will be 1000 piso please sir”. She was so matter of fact about it and I realized that this procedure was probably played out hundreds of times a year, so for her this was nothing new. With mixed emotions of guilt, shame, embarrassment and even relief, I paid the bill, gave the receptionist a fleeting smile and headed out the door.

When I got back to the hotel I was actually quite tired so I decided a nap was in order but as soon as my head hit the pillow there was a loud knocking on my door and Wally saying in a loud voice ” wake up mate it’s only early and we have some bar hopping to do”. Replying in a sleep laden voice I said just give me a ten minutes to grab a shower, wakeup and I will meet you downstairs.

That night our first port of call was Ziggys where Wally reckoned he had found a real stunner. Ziggys was a weird bar in terms of design and it had certainly seen better days. When it was Ziggys it badly needed a coat of paint, some new stage lighting, new sound system and definitely a new toilet area. Ziggys is now Brown Sugar and in its modern day guise a completely different bar. Back when it was Ziggy’s it can best be described as tired and it was very obvious the owners approach was to run it on basics only, keep the costs down. In those days there really wasn’t enough business to be putting money back into the bar and as a result most bars were run on the basics with minimum expenditure.

The predominant feature in Ziggys was the stage which was in the center of the bar and ran from the front door the entire length of the bar. Back in those days the managers job was fairly simple, he was a draw card and it was his job to drag people in to come and drink with him. In Ziggys there was a raised part at the back of the stage with about six seats and this is where the manager would always hold court. On any given night there would always be about five guys sitting watching the stage quaffing down round after round of San Miguel beer. The topic of conversation would vary from world politics and religion through to a heated discussion of what it was like to live in the Philippines and what was the performance like of the last girl they had been with.

At this stage in Angeles the Australians were predominant and it was common to walk into a bar and hear five or six ACDC songs in a row followed by some Cold Chisel, Men at work Midnight Oil and Australian Crawl. In Ziggys the stage was somewhat stage in that it had the girls change room under the stage and the girls would walk up a kind of tunnel onto the stage. They would then head down to the front of the stage and move up one space each time a new dancer came on. This was actually quite clever because it meant they could run less girls but the stage was always full.

Wally seemed to know his way around Ziggys and as soon as he walked in this dark brown beauty named MayAnne literally jumped off the stage and into Wally’s arms. To say that I was impressed would be an under statement, this girl was absolutely stunning. MayAnne had silky long black hair, pert little breasts with tantalizing flashes of nipples, a rock hard butt and long shapely legs. I think Wally must have sensed my admiration because he turned to me with a Cheshire cat smile and said, “she’s mine tonight but if I cut her lose tomorrow you can grab her”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 62

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 62

Riding Miss Daisy.

After having an enlightening session with Jake, (as you can see a pattern with me and alcohol is beginning to emerge), Daisy and I headed back to the hotel room. At this stage the hotel did not have a hotel service jeepney attached simply because there wasn’t a perceived need. Back then there were very few decent hotels near to Fields Avenue and it was generally accepted that guests would have no catch trikes to their hotels. In today’s environment this has all changed, and with the development of large hotels in close proximity to Fields Avenue, those situated further away have to supply a transportation service as an added reason for patrons to stay there.

On the way back to the hotel room Daisy was a little aloof and very careful not to show me any signs of affection in front of the trike driver. At the time I thought this a little strange because in the bar she had been a totally different person. In the bar she had been like a fly stuck on fly paper, literally all over me, but in the trike she was aloof and distant with a minimal amount of physicality. Looking back on it now I realize the trike driver may have known her and she was a little ashamed of working in the bar, or possibly because he was a distant relation or maybe he knew her boyfriend. It could have been any reason but for me it didn’t really matter as long as it didn’t continue in the bedroom.

And guess what, my hopes were soon to be realized because Daisy was a little fire cracker in the bedroom. We alighted from the trike with Daisy saying something to the driver in Tagalog and me slipping him 40 piso. The trike took off and straight away Daisy was back to being Daisy I had experienced in the bar. Gathering the room key from the hotel receptionist I received a mischievous smile from her that said I know what you two are going to do and boy was she right.

As soon as Daisy entered the room and the door closed, she was down on her knees sucking my knob like a true professional. Jake had hinted at her oral skills in the bar and he was certainly spot on the money. This girl could suck the proverbial golf ball through a garden hose without even trying. I don’t know about you guys but I rate an enthusiastic blow job highly and with this girl enthusiasm was an understatement. Daisy very obviously enjoyed oral sex and she had that intoxicating mixture of professionalism and genuine enjoyment. I have no idea who taught Daisy her oral skills but to this day some 22 years later I have experienced few better. Daisy had this way of licking the entire length just like a lollipop then she would flit her tongue over the head before swallowing the entire length. Obviously she had plenty of experience in this department and within 5 minutes I was exploding in her mouth. Without so much as a wink of an eye she swallowed my entire load then excused herself as she made her way to the bathroom.

So there it was my first sexual encounter in Angeles complete, and boy was it ever a memorable one. I remember feeling absolutely drained so stooping down I picked up my pants from around my ankles and flopped on the bed. Pretty soon Daisy came out of the shower and said, “now round two but I be the one to drive” . With that said she went straight down on me again and even though I was pretty shagged out this girl was an expert and with her gentle manipulations I soon felt the old familiar stirrings rising again.

Once Daisy had gotten me hard she literally stripped of her pants and jumped on my pole. Now I am not one to object to a sexually aggressive woman but this girl made me feel like I was a piece of meat just there for her to use. Once straddled on my dick Daisy was like a little pocket rocket and there was no stopping her. She would grind her body into mine rubbing her clit against me while jerking her pelvis like there was no tomorrow. In some ways I felt like a spectator, who was simply there to provide pleasure for the voracious females sexual appetite and in other ways I felt like a stud because I could supply just what this filly needed and trust me when I say, that was no small achievement.

After Daisy had ridden her way to two momentous orgasms riding on my cock I decided that it was my turn to show this woman just who was in control and with this in mind I gently lifted her off my dick, laid her down in the bed, spread her legs back so her feet were touching close to her ears and proceeded to pound her. Mostly I do not engage in physically demanding sex with small framed apparently fragile Filipinas but Daisy had given me all the signs that she would enjoy a bit of a tumble and I am glad to report my instincts were 100% correct. I inserted myself slowly at first and as each inch went in I could clearly see the look of pleasure that crossed her face. After gently easing my entire length into her and sensing no resistance I decided to get things a little more robust and next thing I knew I was pounding her like a jackhammer.

Daisy had many sexual attributes and her ability to take as well as she gave was definitely one of them. I was literally giving her a pounding and the harder I went the more she cried out for more. Given the size of her, this was an admirable achievement and I can remember admiring her stamina and genuine enthusiasm for a good pounding. After about fifteen minutes of pumping away I decided that it was time for doggy style so I pulled out, flipped her over and proceeded to give it to her from behind. I guess in the back of my mind I was thinking maybe I could find her measure but instead of being submissive Daisy actually seemed to enjoy it and pushed back on my cock as hard as I pushed into her. At one stage her head was banging against the bed-head so I stopped to put a pillow there and she simply turned round and said, “don’t stop Daisy like”. Well I may not be the fastest on the uptake but given a direction like this I wasn’t about to say no and next thing I knew all thoughts of comfort were thrown aside and I was literally pounding her like the piston of a formula one engine.

After about ten minutes of this frantic sexual abandon we were both bathed in sweat but that was inconsequential since both of us were in the proverbial zone and nothing else mattered apart from our carnal lust. I must have pounded away at Daisy for at least fifteen minutes until finally I felt that familiar build up and then my head exploded as wave after wave of orgasmic ecstasy coursed through my entire body. Paroxysms of orgasmic delight were also overtaking Daisy and then as the ultimate rush subsided, both of us literally collapsed in a heap.

In the history of sexual encounters the one between Daisy and myself had to rank highly. I mean over a 12 hour period we must have gone at it at least five times and everything was on the cards. Nothing was a problem for this girl and she was open to just about any suggestion. That morning we met up with Wally in the little cafeteria for breakfast but upon seeing Wally Daisy pretended to be all shy and after discreetly asking me for a “trike fare” gave me a little kiss and said, “you make bar hopping hon you not forget Daisy”. I smiled gave her a little tap on her ass and said “how could I ever forget you Daisy. See you later”.

After Daisy left Wally and I settled down to a nice breakfast and made plans for our bar hopping later on that day. It took us about an hour of planning but after that we were good to go not realizing that our planning was a complete waste of time because as always as soon as you get on Fields all pre made plans go out the window.

Wally and I shared a trike up and our first stop was the Airwolf Inn. The Airwolf Inn was a classic Angeles bar very reminiscent of times gone by. It was basically an open air bar with a pool table, overhead fans, wooden seats placed around wooden tables, about 8 women who seemed to be a mix between GRO’s and waitresses, and music which was a somewhat eclectic mix between Southern Rock and Country. The customers here were locals who had been residing in Angeles for a long time and these guys had seen it all. Over a few beers, which funnily enough I ended up buying, these guys would regale the young kid with wide eyes and an even wider mind, with stories of their Angeles antics in days gone by. Most of these guys were retired military and the highlight of their day was the occasional cigar or cigarette together with a few beers while they sit and reminisce about the good old days when Angeles was a boom town and single mans paradise.

The girls in Airwolf Inn were a mixed bunch ranging in age from about 18 through to 35 but no matter what their age it was clearly obvious each girl knew exactly what she was there for. Some of the old guys seeing my eye wander appreciatively over two of the girls, started giving me the low down on some of the girls performance. In a way I appreciated their candidacy however on the other hand I was still applying Australian ethics to a Filipino situation so I replied, thanks for the info guys but I don’t really want to know how many of you blokes have already been with her. I mean if she is a slut that’s cool but I don’t have to know about it, so if it’s all the same to you guys and no offence meant, I will just do my own homework and I’ll let you know how I get on”. With this little tirade blurted out the wizened old guys looked at me from underneath their baseball caps and glasses and then one of their group who I was to later learn was named Dicky, blew a cloud of smoke at me and said, “caring is sharing kid” then went back to his beer and cigar.

Feeling thoroughly rebuked I motioned to Wally that I was leaving and he promptly paid his bill and we walked up the street to Club Fantastic. Walking up Fields in those days was truly fun. It was very much a small town feel where all the girls would know you and often they would call you by name as they tried to entice you inside their bar. Girls would grab your arm and actually walk with you up the street. Along the way they would often try and get you to buy them something like a dress or a hat from one of the numerous tailoring shops that seemed to proliferate on Fields in those days. There must have been about twenty tailors mostly specializing in American goods such as American football shirts baseball shirts caps and jackets and basketball clothing. Along with the tailoring shops were the leather shops which would specialize in a range of goods from boots and shoes through to little riding crops, leather sex outfits and plush leather jackets. A few of these places still exist but most of them have been replaced by a different kind of shop or a hotel or a bar. These shops were indicative of the small town appeal of Angeles back then and if even for that reason alone I miss them.

Club Fantastic which is now called Owls Nest was pretty much exactly as it is today a dirty dingy mid sized bar with about twenty girls who would shuffle back and forth on stage and were about as inspiring as a wet week. The lighting is always dim in this bar and the emphasis is on keeping the operating costs down. The owner here an Australian who I shall just refer to as T, has been around Angeles for 30 plus years and is very much a reminder of how a certain segment of the Angeles market used to be. For the most part men such as himself have faded into obscurity but there are many like him still here and to find them you just have to know where to look.

Terry has running a bar down to a fine science, basically he leaves everything to his wife and drinks a few beers and plays pool. He is in fact arguably the best pool player in Angeles. He is nothing flash but just shoots the balls and rarely loses. While Terry is playing pool the bar goes on around him which these days he is mostly oblivious to. Back in the day the bar was called Club Fantastic and it was particularly memorable because of its logo which was Mickey Mouse getting a blow job from Mini Mouse while underneath was the writing Club Fantastic Adult Disneyland.

After a couple of games of pool with Terry, a few beers and a good grope of the only two girls that were in my opinion worth groping we said our goodbyes and headed out with the aim of going to Birds Of Paradise for some late lunch curry. Well at least that was the plan until we actually walked out the door and Daisy who was working as a door girl in Happy Hooker spotted me and came running over grabbing my arm and saying, “hon we have problem, need you talk Daddy Jake now”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 61

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 61

The Happy Hooker my introduction to Angeles.

For my first night in Angeles I didn’t even go out preferring instead to stay in the hotel and get a good nights sleep. Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but I was dead tired, didn’t really know my way around, and Wally already had a girl, so there would have been nobody to keep me company or show me the ropes.

After a good nights sleep I woke up at ten and headed downstairs for breakfast. They had a small little restaurant in the Bonanza which served decent enough but basic food and always had a cold beer or a hot coffee. Wally was already there having just said goodbye to his girl so I joined him and we made plans for our bar hop that was going to happen later that day.

Over breakfast Wally gave the basic lowdown on Angeles telling me about Fields Avenue and some of the bars there. At this stage I had no idea of the lay of the land and I could feel my excitement level rise. After Wally had imparted his words of wisdom I was ready to set out and explore Angeles, so summoning up a trike, that seemed to be constantly parked outside the Bonanza, I made my way to Fields Avenue.

Just as I hit Fields some of the bars were opening and as I stumbled into one it was very obvious I was the first customer. My first impression was that these bars were a far cry from Manila. I had gotten used to Visions Firehouse, Superstar, Mistys and bars of this ilk, where there were large numbers of girls and the girls were all dressed in bikinis. Here in Angeles it was totally different. Many of the bars had five or six dancers and I was often the only customer in the bar. This seemed to be a much more simple and relaxed scene, with an emphasis on personal communication between the girls and the customers.

In Manila there was a sense of almost frantic urgency that pervaded the whole scene, everybody was in party mode and it was very much a night scene but here in Angeles the bars started happening a lot earlier and there was a definite afternoon market where the emphasis was as much on drinking as it was on chasing girls.

I wandered into about four bars stopping to have a drink in each buying a few ladies drink and just talking with the girls but not seeing anybody who attracted me I kept on moving. To be honest I was thinking this ain’t bad but it’s nothing compared to Manila and I was giving some thought to checking out tomorrow and heading back to the big smoke. Just as these negative thoughts were beginning to formulate I saw this hot looking girl standing outside a little bar called the Happy Hooker and all thoughts of returning to Manila completely left my head.

I am not sure what it is but I have always found myself attracted to a hard working girl and this girl was certainly that. There she was standing outside Happy Hooker with clingingly tight lurid yellow hot pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I didn’t know it at the time but Daisy and myself were going to develop a sort of relationship. Now when I say relationship I do not mean in the traditional sense, but in a sort of sexual and friendship sense. Daisy was to become a regular sex partner plus a friend. One thing that I really like about the Filipina bar girl, is her ability to combine a sexual relationship with friendship. Very few girls can admit to themselves that they are prostitutes and they live in denial, softening the reality with feelings of attachment and friendship. Sometimes this was real friendship and other times it was an act they put on for whatever reason.

When Daisy saw me her face literally lit up and she ran towards me, grabbed by the arm and said, come inside gwapo. Of course this being a hot girl I wasn’t about to say no, and next thing I knew, I was being pulled into the Happy Hooker. I have often wondered how a small little Filipina can haul a 200 pound plus man into a bar and I always have a quiet little chuckle when I observe it. Whenever I see this happening I always laugh and think to myself, it’s true men really are led around by their dicks.

Anyway back to Daisy the vision of lust whom I eagerly followed into Happy Hooker. To be honest my memories of the Happy Hookers layout are only vague. I think there was a little stage on the left hand side which boasted about 8 girls all of whom looked like this wasn’t their first rodeo and the seating was mainly two tables and chairs and a lounge in the back. Back then they had the little patio just like it does today and on many occasions this was the busiest section of the bar. Since back then it was mostly a daytime trade many customers would enjoy sitting in the patio drinking a cold beer and watching the world go by while playing with some girls. There was little money to be made back then, and indeed, money wasn’t the primary driving force like it is today. Back then it was more about hanging out and having some fun with the girls and your mates. In terms of bar ownership I think a lot of guys just kind of fell in love with the idea of free booze, a constant stream of hot available women and a laid back lifestyle, where if one could make a little bit of money along the way, it was considered an added bonus.

The owner of the Happy Hooker was an Australian guy whose name was Jake but was always referred to as Daddy Jake particularly among the girls. Jake was an older bloke obviously in his late fifties early sixties (yes in those days I considered this old) with a pasty complexion and the beginnings of a classic alcoholics nose. Jake was a retired screw and although this is a position that requires regulations, slavish following of rules and a tough exterior, I never got any indication of these elements from Jake. He always seemed like your classic laid back Aussie who liked a quiet little drink on a regular basis.

The girls all seemed to like Jake and in the case of Daisy I got the impression the feeling was returned. She seemed to be his little favorite and she would flirt outrageously with him, always gently rubbing against his crotch, and giving him titillating and delightfully promiscuous glances. Jake was married and the bar was in his wife’s name, but this never seemed to bother Jake or the girls, in the slightest. When Jake’s wife was in the bar the girls would tone down their flirting a little bit but still they made it perfectly clear that inside the bar they had equal rights when it came to Jakes attention. To be honest I wasn’t privy to any behind the scenes talk between Jake and his wife but I can imagine his wife would have not been to impressed with the girls flirtatiousness being directed towards her husband. On the surface however Jake’s wife always kept a friendly demeanor towards customers and the girls, although it was clearly obvious, she was the boss when it came to her man.

I found out in later years that like so many of the small bars back then most of the girls came from a specific part of Samar where Jakes wife also hailed from and it was merely a semi annual visit back to the province by Jakes wife and the bar would be replenished with five to ten new girls with literally mud between their toes. this same area that supplied a regular flow of girls to work in the bar. Back then there was no big deal about Human Trafficking and it was seen as a perfectly natural happening to send ones daughter to Angeles to earn some money or even better land a foreign husband, move overseas and send money home on a regular basis.

As I got to know Jake and his wife a little better over the next two years I would ask her how she did her recruiting in the province and she would relate pretty much the same story every time. Basically she would get another girl already working in the bar and they would head down to the province together.

Normally her and the girl companion would have some nice jewelry that they would put on prior to entering the village, of course all the local girls would gather round and besiege them with looks of adoration and envy and then ask where did they get this jewelry and how can they get some for themselves. This of course was the lead in that the bar ladies wanted and next thing you know there were stories about the great life in the Angeles bar scene and how easy it was to make money there. Half the time the exact nature of the job was skirted around, with the parents being told their daughter will be a waitress or a GRO and to this day I am not sure if the parents knew exactly what their daughter would be doing or they actually believed the bar peoples tales. Personally I think they have a fairly good idea as to the nature of the job but chose to ignore it and just take the money.

I spent that afternoon chucking back a few beers with Jake and at 5 he asked me to accompany him to the front patio where we sat and talked and drank while Jake watched the happenings on the street. This was a great little voyeurs spot and we willed away about two hours watching the parade of beauties pass by. Jake had been in AC for at least five years and during that time had built a lot of friendships, many of whom would hail him or drop by for a drink. The guy also knew a ton of girls but I got the impression he had to be more careful when it came to approaching the girls because the wife had eyes and ears everywhere. Still being cautious is very different from being monogamous and I am sure wily old Jake got more than his fair share of tail.

While I sat and chat with Jake Daisy was milking ladies drinks from me and at the same time acting as door girl. I am sure she would have much rather gone with me and knocked out a short time but here she was still stuck in the bar, so she had decided to make the most of it. Daisy was one of those girls with an enervating personality that meant she could attract customers with very little work. In days to come I would watch her flirt and play with customers and lure them into the bar like a good door girl should. She had that unique ability to make every man no matter how old or how young, feel like he was the center of her attention and king of the world.

By about 7 Jake was ready to call it a night so I requested Daisy to go bar fine with me to which she eagerly agreed and we headed back to the Bonanza for a good old fashioned romp.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 60

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 60

Americans, Aussies and lahar. Welcome to AC.

So there I was enveloped by pitch black night, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by about twenty Filipinos whom I had no idea how to communicate with. Was this a scary situation, you bet it was, especially since I had absolutely no idea what to do about it. I could see the Filipinos looking at me but luckily I didn’t sense any hostility, so deciding to push my luck I ambled up to one of the guys and asked, “excuse me, could you please tell me how do I get to Dau”? The guy looked at me and replied in perfect English, “I was thinking same as you. Wait here and I will ask someone”. Hearing him say this was such a relief and I gave a silent prayer thanking my lucky stars that I had met a friendly Filipino who spoke my language. Without him things could have gotten quite tricky.

My new found savior approached three other Filipino guys and jabbered away in Tagalog at the end of which he came back to me and said, “those are local guys, they tell me wait here and trike will come, then trike take you hotel”. Upon hearing this I gave a sigh of relief, thanked him profusely, and plonked my ass down on the rucksack to wait for a trike to arrive.

I had waited about thirty five minutes and had been watching the other passengers load themselves onto jeepneys and trikes and then suddenly I looked around to realize that I was the only person left. So now here I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with only pitch black night to keep me company, and just as I was beginning to worry a trike pulled up from nowhere and the driver asked, “hey Joe what hotel you stay”? I was about to reply my name is not Joe it’s Martin, but I realized I was hardly in a position to be picky, so I simply gave him the name of the hotel and then piled myself and my rucksack into the trike.

Back in those days Angeles was very different than what it is today simply because it was a much smaller town and because it had been mostly destroyed due the eruption of Mount Pinatubo. The trike traveled along the main road for what must have been a couple of kilometers and then took a turn of to the right to travel along what was basically a dirt road full of potholes and lahar. We traveled on this road for close on thirty minutes moving at a snails pace as the trike jolted its way in out of bone jarring potholes. From inside the trike I tried to look out and survey my surroundings but all I could see were giant black shapes which I was to later find out were hills of lahar.

Upon reflection I realize these hills were probably only twenty or so feet high but from inside a trike, in the middle of the night and surrounded by a thick film of lahar, making it hard to breath let alone see properly, they sure seemed like mountains. After about thirty minutes the trike driver stopped and informed me that he wanted to talk with a group of guys that had suddenly appeared. I asked him why and he replied, “I get direction Bonanza Hotel”. When I heard this the alarm bells started ringing in my head and I had visions of being mugged and left battered and broken in the middle of the lahar fields.

While the driver talked with the three guys they kept on looking over at me and I was sure this was going to get nasty. To be honest I have had only a few fights in my life preferring instead to walk away and avoid them but I knew instinctively if these guys came for me there would be no walking away.

I sat in the trike for about five minutes sweating my ass off wondering what was the best way to handle this situation when suddenly the driver turned around and proceeded to walk back towards the trike. Here comes the demand for money I thought, but instead of doing anything threatening he merely smiled and said, “I know way now, Bonanza 10 minutes”. The feeling of relief that swept over me must have been visible because the driver looked at me and asked, “you okay Joe” to which I replied, “yes very okay just a little tired so want to get to the hotel”.

After another fifteen minutes of bone jarring travel in the trike we finally pulled up outside the Bonanza Hotel and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. This trip had been a real worry, especially the Angeles half of it, and I fully realized I was extremely lucky to be here in one piece. I paid the trike driver two hundred piso, thanked him profusely then lugged my rucksack over my shoulder and entered the Bonanza Hotel.

The Bonanza in those days was nothing flash but at least it had survived Mount Pinatubo’s explosion relatively unscathed, the rooms were basic but decent, the price of 300 piso a night was perfect, and there was a distinctly Australian feel about it.

The Bonanza in modern times is called the Ponderosa Hotel and you will often see the hotels jeepney delivering patrons to Fields. It is not exactly in a centralized position being positioned in a back street in Mountain View but back in those days the issue of being close to Fields Avenue didn’t really matter because everyone seemed to get a trike or jeepney around, and nobody seemed to care less about a hotels proximity to Fields.

This of course has all changed now and closeness to Fields has become a major selling point for many of the up market hotels in Balibago. Back in the day there were only 5 or 6 major hotels and of these only the Orchid Inn was situated within close proximity to Fields. Just as now the major hotels offered a sort of resort feel and the emphasis was on providing the guest that tropical holiday feeling. Instrumental in creating that feeling was the hotel swimming pool together with the tropical garden surrounding it. The big players then were the Maharajah, the Oasis, the Clarkton, the Premier, the America Hotel and the iconic Aussie hotel, the Swagman. These were then followed by what I call the second string hotels which were establishments like the Executive Hotel, the Orchid Inn, Genesis and the Bonanza.

At that time the American influence was waning as they were getting ready to pull out of the Philippines and the Mount Pinatubo explosion with the destruction it had reeked, was merely the icing on the cake. Everywhere you went mounds of lahar varying in size could be seen and there was always a lahar haze in the air, causing people to cough and wheeze.

In terms of the bars there were only about ten bars on Fields including Dreams, Hobo Bar, Air Wolf, Club Fantastic, Birds of Paradise, the Happy Hooker, Ziggys, Stinger, Legs and Maverick City. There were probably a couple of others but their names escape me. These bars were complemented by numerous smaller bars scattered throughout the entire area including the now delightfully infamous blow road bars.

The general feel of the place was an eclectic mix between American and Australian which was perhaps best summed up by the street vendors who would firstly assume you were American and greet you with the classic, “hey Joe” and then if this didn’t work they would try “gooday mate”. The bars were generally speaking less commercial than they are today and the emphasis was on a bunch of guys just hanging out at their local as much as it was on casual prostitution. This was evidenced by the fact that a lot of bars had pool tables and the various pool leagues represented a regular and steady income for the bars. In fact I think there was probably a greater percentage of excellent pool players in Angeles than anywhere else in the world.

Just as is the case with Perimeter Road bars today the main emphasis was on daytime, early evening trade. Many of the bars would close by ten or at the latest midnight, and the thought of partying all night, or a bar being open 24 hours, was totally unheard of. Back then the scene was a lot smaller in nearly every way. The bars employed less girls and there was significantly less customers, plus the customers who did come had nowhere near as much money. The result was a laid back little town covered in volcanic dust mixed in with some brown skinned, hot blooded Filipinas, who rocked your world day after day with never a complaint.

The result of the smallness was a feeling of the town being less commercial and consequently more friendly. Most of the regulars knew each other and there was very much a social feel about the place. Groups such as the Hash House Harriers predominated and bars would compete with each other for the Hash business. Nowadays the Hashers are seen mainly as ‘Cheap Charlie’s’ and you will mostly find them drinking in the smaller bars or even the outside bars where the beers are cheaper and they can sit and watch the world go by.

As I have said the bars back then had a less commercial feel, it was very much amateur hour with girls wearing a cut off shirt and jean shorts together with high heals and a smattering of garish makeup. In Manila the scene was a lot more sophisticated with the girls wearing classy shoes, the right amount of makeup and bikinis. This was not the case in Angeles. The Angeles bars were somewhat of a time warp harking back to the eighties when America ruled the roost but this was also mixed in with the Aussie influence as more and more Aussies discovered the Philippines and specifically Angeles. The Aussie invasion was to some extent inevitable because their country was closer geographically and the scene in Angeles represented sex with beautiful, hard bodied Filipinas, at a very reasonable price.

In terms of the hotels there were several establishments catering to the Australian market, including the Orchid Inn, the Bonanza, the Executive Hotel and of course the iconic Swagman with it’s big sister hotel in Manila. A number of the bars were also Australian owned including Dreams, Club Fantastic, Ziggys and Stinger. The music in the bars also reflected the mix of American and Australian influence. The emphasis was on music for the customers and a large amount of Rock and Roll was played. Typically one could expect to hear bands like ACDC and INXS through to the classic rock of Led Zepplin, Deep Purple and the newer big bands such as Bon Jovi, Van Halen and Motley Crue. Back then just as today the girls didn’t really relate to this music but nobody seemed to care as the customers were having a great time listening to it and that was all that mattered. Manila bar music was more for the girls with an emphasis on them dancing but Angeles was still very much a rock and roll town where the customer ruled and the girls were there whenever we needed them.

Back then A. Santos Street AKA Blow Road, was in full swing. Bars with blatant names such as Super Head, and Mega Head were common place and some of the girls working in the blow job bars were the biggest earners in town. Some years later when I was working in the bar named Illusions seven girls from an A Santos BlowJob bar came to work in Illusions. The owner at the time predicted they wouldn’t last long because they could make more money in a Blow Job bar. I looked at him as if he was crazy and asked, “why would you say something like that. How can a girl working in a shitty little dive with no air-con and a lousy location make more money than working here in one of the premier bars on Fields Avenue”. Upon hearing this Wolf looked at me and said, “Martin you don’t really understand Angeles. Do the math. Working in Illusions she will get one bar fine a night that equals 400 piso in her pocket throw in a couple of ladies drinks and her salary and she is on about 600 piso. If she works in a BlowJob bar she can have at least five customers in a day and for each customer she will receive 250 guaranteed possibly an extra tip and maybe a ladies drink or two”. I listened to him, promptly did the math and decided as usual old Wolfy was right, and I still had a lot to learn about Angeles.

Another thing I liked about Angeles back then was the fact that the bar managers were definite characters. There was none of these behind the scenes operators and all the managers were up front in your face party guys who liked a drink, were always quick to tell a story and in general larger than life characters. The so called personality managers were predominant and guys would come to drink with them as much they would come for the girls.

In the early nineties Angeles was less vibrant than Manila, it was more laid back, there were less girls, less money to be made and in its own way a much more dated scene but I managed to slip right into it and thoroughly enjoyed myself. For me Manila with its large party clubs, bright neon lights and thousands of girls would always be number one, but when all the partying in Manila became a little bit to much Angeles was a very pleasant laid back alternative.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 59

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 59

Angeles here I come.

Waking up to the sound of someone banging on your door is at best disconcerting and most of the time alarming. And for me this was definitely alarming. All sorts of paranoid thoughts entered my mind, ‘oh no maybe it’s the police again’, maybe I did something wrong in one of my recent benders , maybe someone I know has had an accident etc, etc. With only 3 hours sleep and a throbbing head I gingerly opened the door only to be confronted by Wally’s smiling face, and him saying, “come on mate it’s past nine and time to hit the road for Angeles”.

Shit I thought to myself, I had completely forgotten we were supposedly traveling to Angeles today and I was meant to meet him downstairs for a pre traveling breakfast. My disheveled tired appearance must have tipped Wally that I was in no condition to travel and luckily for me he was an understanding sort of bloke, so after seeing the condition I was in, Wally simply said, “looking at you mate you ain’t traveling anywhere any time soon and I gotta go coz AC is calling mate. You get some sleep mate and I will leave instructions on how to get to AC and where to stay with the front desk” With that said he gave me one last disparaging look, shook his head and proceeded to walk down the hallway.

At first I was kind of tempted to call him back and say, ‘give me 20 minutes to get ready’, but then my head started thumping again and waves of tiredness were overtaking me, so I thanked my lucky stars Wally was so understanding, shut the door, and climbed back into bed with Lisa.

I must have slept for at least five hours because when I woke up the second time I was remarkably refreshed and feeling ready for my next adventure. Lisa was still blissfully snoozing so I decided to grab a shower pack my stuff and begin heading towards Angeles. I made my way to the shower room and as the scolding hot water hit me I closed my eyes and enjoyed a moment of solitude.

I have always enjoyed a hot shower and to be honest I have found many of my best ideas are generated while relaxing in a hot water shower. I closed my eyes and let the water cascade all over me when I heard the bathroom door open and my reverie was interrupted by a pair of soft wet lips engulfing my manhood.

Pleasantly surprised I opened my eyes and there was Lisa sucking on my rapidly hardening penis like there was no tomorrow. Now I was in seventh heaven a hot shower and a blow job at the same time. This was the life and once again I silently congratulated myself on my decision to stay in the Philippines.

After another steamy round in the bathroom Lisa and I both got dressed and with me grabbing my rucksack we made our way down to the hotel reception. I said goodbye to Lisa slipped her 500 piso, picked up the traveling instructions Wally had left me, checked my spare baggage into the Mayfair’s storage area and proceeded to make my way to the Pasay Victory liner bus station.

By this time I was getting quite used to utilizing public transport. I had asking the taxi drivers to turn on their meter, down to an art form, I knew the major arterial roads and was even vaguely familiar with the geographical position of some of the Manila suburbs. However, despite how much you are knowledgeable about your surroundings, traveling in Manila is always an adventure, and one can never get totally used to the living conditions some of the poor endure.

The trip to Pasay from Ermita was only short since they are neighboring suburbs but negotiating the back streets in that taxi as he made his way to the Victory liner bus station was a chilling experience. It was just beginning to get dark yet there was still enough light to see the look of hostility and sometimes naked hatred in the peoples eyes. Admittedly these looks were also mixed with the cheerful laughter of kids playing and the tantalizingly inviting smiles of the Filipinas as they would give passersby that furtive and slightly coy look which hinted at the promise of unbounded sexual delights.

After what seemed like a maze of back streets we arrived at the Victory Liner bus terminal where I unloaded my gear, paid the driver and then as he drove off I looked around and thought to myself, “oh shit what have I gotten myself in for here”. Traveling by public transport is always a risky proposition especially when in a foreign country but it is also a great way to see aspects of a country or a culture that otherwise would be hidden from you. For me the traveling by public transport was an adventure as it offered me a chance to experience Filipino culture and Filipino society, first hand.
Coming from Australia I was used to quality coaches with proper exhaust systems but in Manila exhaust fumes and the resultant smog are a fact of life. Black smoke belching busses are seen as being part of life in Manila and in the bus station it was particularly bad since it was undercover and the exhaust fumes just stayed trapped in the building. Rather than turn off the engines, drivers would just leave the engine running letting the fumes build up with the result of making travelers feel that they had just walked into a poisonous gas oven.

Public transport depots are always crowded but in Manila to call them crowded is an understatement, they are jam packed like sardines in a can and these crowded conditions are then made even worse by the ever present grey haze of exhaust fumes. I made my way through the milling crowd, keeping my back pack in front of me and gently yet purposefully using it to push and prod my way through the crowd who were scrambling to get ion board a b us. Eventually I made my way to what looked like the ticket sellers booth, stood in line for five minutes and then when it was my turn asked for a ticket to Angeles, Dau.

After procuring the ticket I asked the lady how do I know which bus to take and she replied, “look to Dau sign” and then as if that explained it all looked beyond me towards the next waiting customer. I moved aside and as I pondered her meaning “look to Dau sign” a large coach pulled up and their on the right hand side prominently displayed was the sign saying Dau. The sign registered in my brain and I knew this must be the bus that takes me to Angeles. I made my way towards the bus but even before it had stopped completely there was a crowd of people all pushing and jostling to get on board. For me the pushing and jostling was not such a problem because I was larger than 90% of Filipinos and as such never really felt threatened but the safety factor aside, it was all I could do not to just grab some of the rude bastards and pull them back by the scruff of their necks. This experience at the bus station reminded me of the pictures of train stations in India, not quite as bad in terms of the number of people but as far as the pushing and jostling were concerned, it was exactly the same.

By the time I had pondered all that was going on the bus with the Dau sign had filled up and the doors were closing. Darn I thought to myself, this standing in line being polite doesn’t get you anywhere in this country so the next bus I see I am going to push like everybody else and make sure I get on otherwise I am going to be stuck here waiting all night. I must have waited another twenty minutes before another bus with a Dau sign came by and quite unceremoniously I pushed my way through the crowd and embarked on the bus. The inside of the bus was actually quite modern it had air-conditioning vents, a TV monitor that showed videos and the seats were actually large enough to fit the average foreigner rather than being built for the smaller framed Filipinos. I chose a seat as near to the front as I could get reasoning that if I got lost I could always ask the driver to inform me when we are nearing Dau.

The bus sat in the terminal for at least twenty minutes during which time the driver switched on Filipino radio which of course was far to loud and constituted a blathering of tagalog which I had no comprehension of. The radio was also accompanied by various vendors selling everything from bottled water and juices through to peanuts and quail eggs. I don’t know if it is just me but since I was the only foreigner on the bus it seemed like they singled me out and some of these blokes just wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was almost like I was expected to purchase something because I was a foreigner or maybe it was just some kind of bemusement because they had only seen a very limited number of foreigners traveling by bus before . Whatever it was these guys became quite persistent and it was all I could do to keep my cool and politely state that I declined to buy any of their goods. I have since learned to take a girl with me and let her do the talking but this was my first bus trip and the vendor pressure was all part of my learning experience.

The bus trip to Angeles was interesting. As we drove through Manila it was already dark but I got some revealing glimpses of this city albeit from the safety of a Victory bus liner. The thing about Manila is everywhere you look there is people, people and more people. Whether they be driving cars, queuing up for a jeepney, or just wandering the streets with hands stretched out dressed in soiled rags and with vacant expressions in their eyes, it is always about the people, the mass of humanity and the ever increasing level of pollution are indeed hallmarks of Manila one of Asia’s oldest capital cities.

The trip through Manila took about two hours and that was not because of the distance but rather because of the seemingly endless traffic jam that moved at a snails pace. As is the rule in most Asian countries he who is bigger wins so the bus will normally hold sway over the cars but when it comes to traffic jams like this no amount of size makes any difference.

The seats on the bus whilst comparatively new were not exactly comfortable and sometimes I found myself with my knees huddled against my chest. After leaving Edsa road the bus proceeded down what is now NLEX but at that time was little more than a two lane highway with potholes the size of moon craters every half mile. The trip on the Northern Expressway was comparatively uneventful and I found myself marveling at how quickly this bus could travel once wound up. Along the way the bus would pull over to the side of the road leaving some people to exit and others to hop on board including vendors mostly peanut sellers who would get on and off the bus in the middle of nowhere.

After about an hour the bus pulled over and the conductor announced Dau. This was my cue to get off so grabbing my rucksack from the overhead luggage rack I fell in line and exited the bus. I stepped of the bus and realized I was still on the main road. There was no sign of any town there was minimal light, it was beginning to drizzle, I was surrounded by Filipino’s jabbering away in Tagalog, and there I was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a friend or the slightest idea how I was going to find Angeles.