Through his tunnel vision he spotted Kokomo's a little further down the road and wandered across the road and on towards it, thinking of having a night-cap then retiring to bed. But just short of his goal he was sandwiched by two door girls, one taking each of his arms.
"Sir, try La Bamba. We have many, many beautiful girls for you inside."
Their attention, the warmth of their smiles, and their hot bodies against his, reignited his longing. He allowed himself to be led, smiling, inside. No sooner had they escorted him through the privacy curtain behind the door, than they passed him into a new relay of hands, this time two waitresses. The waitresses waved their hands at vacant seats, and Trevor chose the nearest, a bench seat just to the right of the entrance, facing the end of the stage. They seated him, took his order, and disappeared.
Trevor took in the bar. It was long and thin compared to the first two. The stage ran down the centre. As he faced to the rear, to his left was the bar with seating, and to his right were bench seats against the wall. Around the long, thin stage in the middle were stools. The stage was packed with girls jostling with one another in the confined space, each doing their own dance. The dancers wore assorted shorts, almost hot pants, and thin cotton hanger blouses insecurely concealing their breasts. The larger the breasts, the more they revealed, and in the stage lights the dark pigmentation of their nipples showed through.
From his vantage point Trevor quickly realised that he could see only the girls right at the near end of the stage, but the bar was near full and there was no vacant space to which to move.
A girl moved to the end of the stage facing him, smiled and began to dance energetically. She was dark, black-eyed with long lashes, deeply tanned skin, and long shiny, black hair, tied back. Her body was slender and muscular. She danced for him with great energy, and he smiled back at her, grinning broadly. Encouraged by his interest, she stepped off the stage onto the bar, and using the pole as prop, undulated and pirouetted in her high-heeled, black dancing-boots. He clapped his appreciation.
Seeing this, she stepped forward onto a stool, dropped down to the floor, jumped up to straddle his lap, pulled up the left side of her hanger blouse, and thrust her left breast against his face. Feeling her nipple at his mouth, Trevor sought it and sucked it in through his lips. She held his head there, and proceeded to massage his temples as he fluttered his tongue on her nipple. After fifteen or twenty seconds, she released him, and he sat back to look into her face which beamed delight at him.
A waitress dutifully materialised to ask if he would like to buy a drink for the girl. He would. She continued to sit on his lap, facing him, with her hands on his shoulders.
"What your name?" Her voice was animated and assured.
They swapped names, and there followed a number of questions that were to become very familiar to him.
"Where you from?"
"How old are you?"
[Expressions of disbelief.]
"Where you stay?"
"How long you stay?"
"You have a wife?"
"What your job?"
All the time, her hands rested on his chest or lightly kneaded his shoulders, and her groin squeezed and rubbed against his straddled legs.
It was then Trevor's turn. Allyza was eighteen, from Davao City in Mindanao, had three brothers and four sisters, and had worked in La Bamba for two months.
All the while she exchanged shouted comments with friends on the stage.
"These are my friends, Romie and Regine; they think you are a hansum guy," she explained.
He beamed expansively, "You have very attractive friends."
"Do you like to buy a drink for them?"
Trevor, suffering from a twenty-year deficit of attention from pretty young girls said, "Of course ... let them join the party."
Allyza waved them down, and seated them on each side, where they pressed warmly against him as they leaned across to converse over the loud music. After a re-run of the bar-girl interrogation by her friends, they moved onto another topic that was also to become familiar.
"Do you have a friend at home, that need a girl? I like to go in London," said Romie.
"She HAVE a boyfriend already," said Regine.
"But he do not want to marry with me; I am just his holiday friend," responded Romie, faking indignation.
