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Roadhouse

Carl led the way to one of the little round tables just in front of the stage and indicated to his companion to sit down. A waitress came to take their order, but Lucian was too busy watching the girls to notice her. Carl smiled to himself and ordered two San Mig Lights.

The girls were well worth watching, reflected Carl, as he followed his nephew’s glance to the stage. There was something about Roadhouse uniforms that was sexier than the skimpy bikinis seen in most gogo bars. ‘Fantasy schoolgirl’ would describe them. Real schoolgirls might wear white blouses, but not as short as these – so short, in fact, that the lower half of the girls’ breasts (and sometimes more) peeked out beneath. The buttoned-up collars and short red ties were almost sexier than low necklines and deep cleavage – but that would depend on your tastes. After what seemed like acres of midriff came the short red skirts – so short that the question of whether they wore anything underneath was not hard to determine (most didn’t). And if all that wasn’t enough to get you hot under the collar, there was the cute red garter just above the knee on the right leg – though, wait – some wore it on the left leg. Carl pondered a moment. Veteran though he was, he couldn’t remember if that meant anything? Did it mean they were cherry, or cherry ass – or was it just a random choice? Never mind, the real clincher for the Roadhouse girls was the white bobby sox and bright red patent leather shoes, which, moving together in choreographed dance routines, had a mesmerising effect. Carl had seen it many times before, but it never failed to impress, and this time he was enjoying the experience of introducing it to a newbie.

The decision to bring his nephew to Angeles had not been taken lightly, but when his brother had asked him to give Lucian a start in his Call Centre business in Manila, Carl had thought it wisest to introduce Lucian to the bar scene himself. He reasoned that he would have found his way into it sooner or later (probably sooner) and that it was much better if he could keep an eye on him. That way he could prevent him from being taken to the cleaners by some avaricious rice farmer’s daughter with a family of ten to support back in Samar or Mindanao.

Carl noticed that Lucian’s eyes seemed to be fixed on one girl in particular.

“See anything you like?” he said.

“That one,” said Lucian, “third from the left.”

Good choice, thought Carl. Young and sweet – not too hard-bitten. She’ll not do him any harm. “She’s probably a cherry girl,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“A virgin.”

“What! Really?”

“Yes really. If she is, she’ll cost you a fortune – and believe me it’s not worth it. The sex will be terrible – if it happens at all! Well, there’s one way to find out...”

Carl said something to a waitress, and within moments the girl was by his side.

“Kamusta ka?” he said, “Anong pangalan mo?”

“Ako ay Esther,” replied the girl.

“Ilang taon ka na?”

“Labingwalo.”

“Cherry ikaw?”

“Hindi.”

After a few more exchanges in Tagalog, Carl suddenly laughed, and said, “Hindi! Not with me – with my nephew! This is Lucian. Lucian, Esther. She’s 18, she’s only been working for six months, and she’s not a cherry.”

Esther turned and looked at Lucian. Her eyes lit up. Though ‘lit up’ is an understatement. It was more like the look of a shipwrecked sailor sighting land, or a man dying of thirst finding an oasis.

Carl smiled to himself. He had forgotten. Of course, young girls preferred young men with hair and flat stomachs (at least); Leonardo DiCaprio ‘pretty boy’ looks and firm, muscular bodies (at best). Glancing around, Carl was reminded that those qualities were in short supply in the gogo bars of Angeles; most of the pretty boys being in places like Ibiza making out for free.

“Guwapo!” she exclaimed under her breath.

“She likes you,” said Carl, translating loosely.

Lucian seemed equally impressed, and, Carl guessed, was also probably scared out of his wits. He therefore ordered another round of drinks to loosen his inhibitions, and a lady drink for Esther.

“Do you speak English?” Lucian began shyly.

“Little bit,” said Esther, “I learn at school.”

Now that Esther was talking to Lucian, Carl had an opportunity to look at her properly. She had long, layered, glossy black hair which framed a round face, still almost baby-like with the puppy-fat of youth. Her eyes were black limpid pools in which a more experienced man than Lucian could drown. Her skin was the beautiful kayumanggi – the characteristic Filipina honey-gold, though a bit paler than the norm because bar work meant she worked most of the night and slept most of the day. Her body was petite: about five foot, Carl guessed, and of a type that could be described as willowy – in other words, slender, firm and curvy. Her only flaw was the tattoo of a scorpion on her left shoulder. Her personality had a natural melting sweetness, like honey – and as sticky (easy to fall in love with/ hard to get rid of). Carl felt a twinge of anxiety – he knew from experience that the loving sweety can be more of a problem than the hard-bitten ho.

It was clear that the two were getting on like a house on fire, so when the drinks arrived Carl asked the waitress, “Barfine, magkano ito?”

At 1200 pesos (half for the bar, half for the girl) it was a lot cheaper than anywhere in Manila, especially Makati, where prices were sky high. That, of course, was the reason why Carl had brought Lucian here.

“We’re going barhopping,” said Lucian, when Esther had gone to get changed. “Why don’t you get a girl and come with us?”

“No, I think you’ll be better off on your own now. Stick to the Field Avenue area and you’ll be OK. Take her back to the hotel and give her a tip in the morning. 500 should do it. I’ll see you in Kokomo’s about 10 o’clock for breakfast.”

“Are you sure you won’t take a girl?”

Carl looked at the girls on stage and laughed. “No thanks,” he said, “not here – I’ve got – shall we say – special tastes.”

© Rob 2007