Sex Tourist Ch 04

Next day, carefully shaven, with his salt and pepper hair combed neatly, casually dressed in a brightly coloured shirt, baggy slacks and sandals, he was picked up by Marivic.

"Oh Trevor, I almost did not recognise you. You are so smart today. Our ladies will be very pleased in meeting you."

He sat waiting in the air-conditioned office for half an hour before Marivic entered with the first lady. He stood.

"Belinda. This is Trevor. Trevor, this is Belinda. Her friends call her Binki."

Binki smiled nervously, and Trevor offered his hand, which she shook, limply.

"Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable." Marivic indicated the seats, "I'll leave you to get to know one another; take as long as you like." Smiling ingratiatingly, she backed out of the room.

Trevor and Binki stared hesitantly at one another for a few seconds. Binki continued to force a smile, though she sat formally on the edge of her seat, back straight, legs drawn together, her hands clasped in the lap of her dress being wrung nervously. Trevor sat back studying Binki, his legs apart, hands on thighs, hoping to project confidence. Small and slight, Binki's face was pretty, her body more slender than he expected, and she seemed intimidated by him. He felt large and awkward.

Deciding to kick off by telling her about himself, he leaned forward, pulled his trousers loose over his knees and began, "It's very nice to meet you Binki. You probably know I'm fifty-nine, sixty in a week or so, and I work in an office in London. I was married, but divorced twenty-five years ago. I have two sons. I live alone and I'm looking for someone to share my life."

"Oh... Really! You do not live with your sons?"

"No. I don't have much contact with them; they went to live with their mother when we divorced. We became estranged. For years I've rattled around in my house by myself."

"Really ... You have a house, and you are the only one in it? How big is your house?"

"It has three bedrooms, two living rooms and a kitchen, with a small garden to the front, and a large one at the rear."

"You are very lucky. We live in two rooms ... there are ten of us."

"Oh. Who do you live with?"

"My mother and father, my father's mother, and I have four sisters and two brothers. I am the eldest daughter."

He paused and digested this.

"You're only twenty-seven, I'm sixty; why would you want to marry a man of my age?"

He thought this would be a difficult question.

Binki replied immediately and with complete candour, "I only care that you have a good heart and will help my family." No artificial confabulations about the merits of older men.

"And what would you expect in the way of help?"

"If I come in your country I can get a job and send money home each month. If we marry, my family will be your family also. You will want to help them."

"And, is there a particular reason why you are looking abroad for a husband?"

She gripped her hands tightly together and her voice was tremulous.

"I just pray to God that he will send me a good man to help me and my family, so I seek a man from a good country. Our country is not good. We are poor and the government is corrupt. We do not have jobs and wages are low. I look for a man from a country that is not like ours."

Binki was pretty, petite, and simply dressed. He pictured her in chic, expensive clothing. It would not be wasted on her; she could rival those mince, French brunettes he had admired on youthful holidays. Then he imagined her in translucent lingerie, her lithe figure outlined against the light, and decided he could make love to her with passion. For her part, he believed she would cooperate, but doubted that she could return his passion.

Their conversation proceeded amiably, Trevor did most of the talking, and when Binki spoke it was of her family, with frequent references to God. When they had said all they wanted to say, Trevor stood and she echoed. He walked her to the door. As they parted he offered his hand, which she shook, looking into his eyes, almost pleadingly, saying, "Thank you, Sir. I hope you find me suitable."

A few minutes later, while Trevor was still thoughtfully appraising what he had learned from this first contact, Marivic entered.

"Binki likes you," she said cheerfully. "That is a good start, but before you choose you have many more ladies to see, Next is Lanie Cruz; she should be here in half an hour."

"Then I'll just go for a short walk."

Marivic gave him directions to a nearby market area.

On leaving the air-conditioned room, the heat and humidity immediately struck. Making his way along the irregular pavement, perspiration welled, and he slowed his pace until he felt he was walking unnaturally slowly. At home, striding purposefully kept him warm and hurried him out of the cold. Here, to maintain physical comfort everything needed to be done in slow motion. Even so, he could feel perspiration trickle down his face.

Above street-level, he could see broken windows from which washing lines straggled. Pausing for a moment at a corner to allow himself to cool, he looked down a side street. A woman was sitting with a tub, hand-washing clothes. Nearby, a girl in T-shirt and shorts ladled water from a bucket using a tin, and poured it over her head, then lathered her head and body with soap before rinsing off the suds in the same way. As he proceeded, having absorbed this street scene, he contrasted the seedy appearance of the roadside business with the bright and modern presentation of the franchised outlets in Robinson's Mall. The ladies, he knew, were not choosing him; they were choosing between these two worlds, choosing Robinson's Mall. That was what he represented to them, a route to the paradise of consumption promised in the Mall.

Salt burned on his cheeks as perspiration evaporated, and the image of the hot-and-bothered, red-faced white man, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, came to mind - not the image he wanted to project. Turning, he slowly made his way back towards the sanctuary of the air-conditioning. He paused only to buy a towel with which to dry his face, hoping that he would resume his cool-and-collected appearance before Lanie arrived.

Lanie, however, already awaited him, and when they shook hands a ruddy faced Trevor noticed how cold her hands felt. Looking down, he saw that his hands were damp, plump and crimson, and wondered how his face, which he could feel glowing, must appear to her. It troubled her not at all.

By the end of the day the uncomfortable suspicion he had when he contacted the agency; that these women chose foreigners, indifferent to their age, appearance or character, from force of circumstance, was fleshed out in detail. Unable to see any way to achieve better lives for themselves at home, they sought any foreigner who would accept them, provided they would treat them kindly and accept their own families as deserving dependents.

These women would accept. They would care, physically. They would submit and offer their bodies in return for kindness and support; but for them, neither love, nor the physical passion he required was a precondition.

Trevor declined transport back to his hotel and went slowly, on foot, navigating by his street map, taking advantage of the security of daylight to absorb the sights, sounds and smells of Manila, gauging the realities of daily life for his prospective partners.

Back in his room, showered and refreshed, Trevor lay, melancholy and dispirited, on his bed, . He had met three women, any of whom would light up his life, but whose lives he felt he would blight. He would always feel a disappointment to them, never be sure of their love, never really knowing if, below the surface, they disliked him, maybe even viewed him with contempt. They would stick to the deal. The deal did not include love and passion.

Thursday brought three more ladies. After he had interviewed them Marivic reminded him that there were places to go and things to see in Manila, and he must chose a lady for company.

"You must be getting bored in your hotel. Which ladies do you like to take out? Is there one you prefer?"

He had chatted pleasantly through the day with the ladies, keenly seeking some way to detect a 'chemistry,' other than 'the deal.' But, the ladies were too willing, none ever expressing any reservation or betraying some reluctance, even by an involuntary wince in the corner of the eye. Provided he accepted 'the deal', they would accept him. He would be the little fish in their net, but he wanted to be the big fish.

Unprepared for this, unsure how to inveigle his way into their affection, and baffled by how to test it, he temporised, "All your ladies are lovely. I'm overwhelmed. I didn't expect to make such hard choices. I'm anxious not to raise anybody's hopes just to dash them. I'm going to go away for a few days to think carefully. I'll know what I want to do when I return."

Marivic's tone rose an octave, "Trevor, the ladies will be waiting. If none of these ladies will suit you, we have many more, but I must tell these ladies something."

Trevor replied decisively, "This isn't a decision I can hurry. So, tell them No. If I want to take them out later, I don't think they'll refuse."

"But, when do you think you will know? Where will you go?"

"Maybe on Monday, I've got something important to do. I'm taking flying lessons. I'll be away for the weekend. I'll call you on Monday."

At this, Marivic became agitated, but Trevor was adamant, and wishing to quit her presence declined transport back to the hotel, then quickly left on foot. He meandered by Robinson's Mall, entering to buy a small hold-all. On arrival at his hotel, he pulled out his Lonely Planet Guide, looked up the highlighted hotels, went to Reception and asked for use of the phone. First in preference was the Tropicana Hotel. Two minutes later he was booked in for three nights.

Returning to his room, he packed the hold-all for travelling light and, with street map and Lonely Planet open on the bed, planned his journey to Angeles.