Robot Ponygirls
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Bar Girl Ch. 10 free porn video
Chapter 10. ‘Bold Star.’
Blen, student nurse. Snatcher at Savers Mall. Girls’ second day off. News from Desbilla. Calls from abroad. Blen’s BJ movie. Amor’s mysterious earning opportunity.
By half-nine in the morning, the girls were all up, looking forward to their day off. The first business was remittances.
Blen took Amor to one side. ‘Here is 2000p. Send it home, it is a gift. But I want you to promise with me that you will not spend so much money on shabu. I do not like to help you if I help buy shabu.’
Tears welled in Amor’s eyes. ‘I promise. I will spend less. But you know, if I do not have some shabu I am so shy. I would not have Danny if I did not take shabu.’
‘I know,’ said Blen, ‘but I am concern for you. I do not want you to be an addict.’
‘No. I just take a little bit sometimes for my work,’ said Amor.
The girls spent less time at the remittance office, having now mastered the procedure. They then took a trike down MacArthur highway, turned off left, just before the church, and drew up in the forecourt of the bank. They went in, in a gaggle, and queued, and watched with fascination as Precious opened her account, deposited 20,000 pesos, was given her receipt, and was told she could collect her ATM card in a few days. She could then draw money from her account at any of the bank’s ATMs. With two boyfriends, a cell phone, and a bank account she was the envy of the other three.
They returned by trike to the lady-house.
It was now eleven-fifteen. Blen began borrowing clothes. She had planned the look she would like to project, and by borrowing here and there was able to approach it. By quarter-to-twelve, she was looking at herself in the mirror. Her reflection, she thought, was how students looked on the TV. She wore a baggy yellow cotton T-shirt over a white, tight vest. Jeans with rolled up bottoms were held at her waist by a chunky leather belt. On her feet she wore basketball boots. Promising to take care of her friends’ best clothes she set off, under her umbrella, for the jeepney. Trapped in traffic, the jeepney crept slowly down MacArthur and across Abacan Bridge, and it was not until it forked left towards the hospital that it began to move freely. By quarter-past-twelve, it had arrived at AUF. She got out, and while crossing the road, morphed from ‘Blen, blow-job girl’ into ‘Blen, student nurse’.
Just through the door of McDonalds, she looked around – there was no sign of Nick. Looking around again, this time with great care, still revealed no sign. She had given up her day-off to meet this jerk and been stood up. She felt foolish, angry, and imagined people watching her standing alone in the doorway – the girl who had been stood up. She blushed in humiliation, and as unimaginably evil thoughts formed in her mind, the door opened behind her.
‘Hello there,’ panted a breathless voice.
Blen snapped around.
‘I’ve just run up the road after you. I was on my way back, when I saw you crossing the road.’
Blen still prickled from her imagined humiliation. ‘Why do you go back? Do you not want to see me?’
‘I was here at quarter-to-twelve. I waited until quarter past. I thought you’d changed your mind.’
‘I say that I will be here at twelve,’ said Blen.
Nick pointed at the clock, ‘It’s twenty past now.’
‘twelve-o’clock, twelve-twenty. Same, same, I do not have a watch.’
The expression on her face telegraphed that appeals to the clock might prove unprofitable, so Nick changed tack.
‘Shall we sit down? You look very nice today. Would you like breakfast?’
‘No. I like only a coffee. We will eat later, that is my treat.’ Blen sounded somewhat mollified now that it had been seen that she had not been stood up. ‘And you look nice, also.’
‘Why thank you. I’m glad you’ve thought about your treat. I’ll just get the coffees.’
Over a T-shirt, Nick wore an open necked, colourful, check shirt, with long sleeves rolled up. His trousers were straw-coloured chinos, and on his feet, he wore leather loafers. Blen thought she complemented his East-Coast casual look perfectly – they could pass as a couple. In another country onlookers would have taken them for father and daughter. In Angeles a pretty, respectably-dressed young girl with a middle-aged foreigner, would be taken for man and wife.
A couple of student nurses in their white uniforms passing the table paused. ‘Asawa mo, siya?’ asked one.
‘Boyfriend lang,’ replied Blen.
They looked over, towards Nick, who looked back, and grinned. ‘Hansuum,’ said one, and they moved off.
They had asked if Nick was her husband.
‘Friends of yours?’ asked Nick, putting the coffees on the table.
‘Yes, they are classmates,’ lied Blen, ‘they think you are handsome.’
‘And you, do you think I’m handsome?’
Blen studied him for a moment. ‘Not too handsome.’
‘Well, you are too beautiful to hide in McDonalds. Drink your coffee and you can show me around town.’
As Blen flagged at a jeepney, Nick protested. ‘Today, we’ll take a trike, just tell the driver where you want to go. Surprise me.’
Blen clapped her hands, a trike drew up, and she jumped in. Nick climbed in after her. The cab dwarfed him, and, as he squeezed onto the seat he sandwiched Blen up against the side of the cab.
He slipped his arm over her shoulders. ‘Excuse me. I think this is the only way we will fit in.’
She felt quite content, nestled up against Nick’s chest with his arm around her, being thrown gently against him by the motion of the trike as it vibrated and bumped down the road. Blen considered that she could happily take a long journey in this manner.
Blen’s idea of showing Nick the sights of Angeles consisted of taking him on a tour of the malls and pointing out the fabulous consumer goods. It was as much an exploration for her as for him. She threw in Angeles City market, where Nick took hold of her hand to prevent them being parted in the throng. Blen was puffed up with the pride of a show-off, knowing people were casting envious glances at the girl whose hand was held by the eligible foreigner. She also took him to visit the nearby, central church, and its shrine. Nick was good-humoured and content with her company, appearing to enjoy the tour, no matter how much it resembled a Saturday shopping trip back home. After a trike ride from the market, during which Blen nodded off contentedly with her head on Nick’s chest, they arrived at Savers Mall.
As they dismounted from the trike, there was a commotion to their right where cars were parked in a rank along the front of the mall. The guard at the ATMs looked over, but did not move. While their idle eyes still sought the source, a man holding a pistol in one hand and a handbag in the other ran from behind one of the vehicles and sprinted down and through the traffic, crossing MacArthur Highway, then disappearing towards Abacan Bridge. A woman got out of the car, and started shouting. Armed guards gathered round her. Blen and Nick walked slowly past on their way to the entrance, and Blen listened while the woman berated the guards.
‘She have been rob,’ whispered Blen. ‘It is a snatcher. He snatch her bag when she is getting out her car.’
‘In front of all those guards?’ said Nick. ‘He must be stupid, he could have been shot.’
‘We can be shot, if the guards start to shoot, not the snatcher. They do not shoot good. It is best if they do not shoot.’
Leaving the excited group behind, they entered the store. An armed guard patted them down.
‘I’m going to buy you a gift,’ said Nick, ‘Come with me.’
He walked briskly, towing her by the hand, eventually stopping at a jeweller. ‘Chose a watch. I don’t want you to be late again.’
‘Nick, I do not need a watch,’ she said, starting to inspect the display.
After a little persuading, she made her choice. It was fitte
d to her wrist, and they left the jewellers.
‘Now it’s time for your treat. What’s it to be?’ declared Nick.
‘My friend tell me that there is this restaurant, it is Chinese, it is by the casino. I like to eat there.’
‘I think I know where you mean, I’ve seen it on MacArthur Highway.’
Another dreamy trike ride and they were at the restaurant. Nick and Blen were greeted at the door, and graciously ushered to a table by the Chinoy staff. The restaurant was tastefully draped in Chinese themes, Blen was delighted. They were settled at their tables, and Nick ordered drinks.
‘I’m having Tsing Tao beer, it’s a delicious Chinese beer. Do you drink beer?’
‘I will try it also,’ replied Blen.
It did taste delicious, far better than San Miguel.
‘What would you like to order?’
‘I do not know. It is Chinese. You must order.’
‘I can get a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, all sorts of tasty pieces which can be eaten with rice.’
Blen sampled the various dishes with pleasure.
‘When do you qualify as a nurse?’ asked Nick.
‘Ahh. In two years.’
‘And what will you do when you qualify?’
‘I will go in America.’
‘Will you get a green card?’
Unsure what this meant, Blen answered, ‘I will go to my uncle.’
‘And where does he live?’
‘In California.’
‘I lived in California for a few years,’ said Nick. ‘Where does your uncle live?’
As Blen thought about this, she unexpectedly felt her back pocket vibrate causing her to jump, then a polyphonic tune started to play.
‘I think that’s your phone,’ said Nick.
Blen pulled it from her pocket, awkwardly punched at it, and held it to her ear.
‘Hello Blen,’ said the caller.
She recognised Bruno’s voice, and her face fell, she looked around for a private place. ‘In a while,’ she muttered to Nick, and headed for the door.
In the noisy street, she held the phone close to her ear, and said, ‘Yes.’
‘You did not call me. Why not?’ asked Bruno.
‘I do not call you. You call me.’
‘I am missing you,’ Bruno told her, ‘I am looking forward to taking your cherry.’
‘There is another who is interest also,’ Blen told him with satisfaction.
‘Do not worry, I have deep pockets. You will be mine. Are you being a good girl?’
Blen, who was for one day only being a good girl, growled. ‘Why do you like me to be good, you like a whore?’
‘I want you for my own private whore, for my pleasure alone. I spend my lonely moments planning how you will pleasure me. I look forward to possessing you. Very soon, we will be together. Keep your cherry safe for me,’ said Bruno.
‘Mama will keep my cherry safe, I do not care,’ said Blen.
‘Well, goodbye for now, call me soon.’
‘Goodbye.’
Bruno hung up and Blen made her way back to the table, her face creased in thought.
‘Is there a problem,’ enquired Nick.
‘It is just my aunt, she is sick.’
Her dread of Bruno blighted the remainder of her meal. She was pensive, and though Nick tried to engage her, she responded in monosyllables. The meal was completed and paid for, and they stepped out of the restaurant onto MacArthur Highway.
Blen turned to Nick. ‘I must go now.’
Nick was taken aback by this abrupt announcement. ‘The day stretches ahead of us, we could go to the cinema.’
‘No. I must go.’
‘When can we meet again?’
‘I have my studies.’
Nick realised he was being shown the stone wall. ‘Then can I have your phone number?’
‘No. I do not give my number to guys.’
‘Well. I can give you mine.’ Nick took out his pocket book, wrote his name and a number on a sheet of paper, tore it off, and handed it to Blen. ‘That’s my number. Give me a call, just to say Hi. I’ll wait for your call. It’s up to you.’
She pushed the piece of paper into her back pocket and wondered, Why was Bruno her fate? Why could it not be Nick? She wanted to kiss him. She would not see him again. This was her last chance. Tears welled in her eyes. On impulse, she threw her arms around Nick’s neck and pulled him down, towards her, and kissed him virgin style on the lips.
When she released him, a perplexed Nick looked foolishly pleased. His mouth opened. Blen turned and ran off sobbing before he could speak. She could hear his footsteps hurrying after her as he called her name.
‘Blen, Blen, wait Blen. Blen, what’s wrong?’ Nick’s voice was confused and agitated.
Blen turned right, and recklessly fled through the heavy traffic across the highway, leaving Nick, intimidated by the traffic, isolated on the other side. He followed her from the far-side of the highway until she disappeared down a side road. When she reached the lady-house, she hurried upstairs, and flung herself down on the bed, and sobbed.
Anabel, who had followed her upstairs asked, ‘What is wrong Blen. Why are you crying?’
‘It is Bruno. He called to me. I hate him.’
She lay, turning matters over in her head. She did not regret her deception. She enjoyed being ‘Blen, student nurse’, for just one day. Better, one day, than never. But how lucky are those who can be such a person all their lives. Hugging a pillow, she fell asleep.
Awakened by a vibration in her pocket, hatred welled up inside her as she pulled out the phone and pressed the button. ‘Hello,’ she rasped belligerently.
‘It is me Blen. What is wrong?’ It was Precious’s voice.
‘Ohhh … Sorree … I think you are Bruno again. He call to me today.’
‘Well, do not answer to your phone like that, you will frighten him. I call to ask you to come to the movies with us.’
‘Oh yes, where are you?’ Blen’s spirits suddenly revived.
‘We are at SM Mall, we will wait you. Call to me when you get here.’
‘I come right now,’ Blen said, already on her feet.
She quickly changed into T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and left.
At the cinema, the girls again immersed themselves in a romantic comedy, and escaped the complications of their lives for a couple of hours. When they came out the other girls wished to eat, so they made their way back to Perimeter Road, walked down to Raymond Street and turned into Real Street, expecting to eat in Linda’s. But Linda’s was gone, as were the other corrugated and boarding structures that had faced the bars. A fence was being erected and a new development was under way.
The girls made their way back up to Teodoro Street, and crossed to a Turo-Turo on the far side. There, they ate a cheap but filling meal, all but Blen, who graphically described the meal she had eaten with Nick.
‘When do you see him again?’ asked Girlie.
‘No more.’
‘Does he not like you?’
‘He like me, but I cannot send a free meal home. He is a boyfriend for church only.’
Precious looked at Blen’s wrist. ‘Did he give you your watch?’
‘Yes. I can pawn the watch,’ said Blen.
Having eaten, they made their way to the karaoke bar and sipped Red Horse while they waited for ten, when the action would get under way at the disco. Blen looked disapprovingly at Amor as she swallowed some shabu. They then spent three hours in the disco, which was very much less packed than on their last visit. Today was Monday, last time it had been Saturday.
After an eventful day for Blen, the girls were all in bed by two. This was now an early night.
The following morning, Blen washed the clothes she had borrowed. While checking the pockets of the jeans, she pulled out the sheet of paper with Nick’s number on it. For a few seconds she was tempted to put it in her purse, but good sense prevailed. It would only be a temptation and a torment, yesterday had been a one off, she must now put it behind her and live in reality. Going over to the gas ring, where rice was simmering, she burned it.
She hear
d the news headlines being read on the TV, This is my reality, she thought.
The anchor announced that two bombs had gone off in Mindanao. In a bar in Makilala, adjacent to Blen’s home province, a bomb had exploded during a festival killing six people. Elsewhere, another bomb had claimed four victims, though no fatalities. The police did not know if the explosions were related, they could not even guess who was trying to blow up whom. To all intents and purposes, these were random acts of terrorism, spreading fear among all factions.
Just escape from that world, Blen told herself. That will be enough. Do not be ambitious. Over-ambition only brings unhappiness.
Late in the morning, some good news arrived. A motor cycle drew up outside, and the rider called out. It was the postman. He brought a response to Precious’s postcard. The letter from Precious’s mother contained the number of Rozel’s store.
‘We can speak soon, with our families,’ said Precious, ‘we can try tomorrow.’
The girls celebrated and hugged one another.
That evening, Blen re-entered Talent Spot with the others and effortlessly fell back into bar girl mode. It was a long, slow Tuesday evening, with periods of sluggishness punctuated by bursts of enthusiastic activity when customers entered. Blen’s thoughts alternated between bittersweet recollections of yesterday, and joyful anticipation of tomorrow when she would speak with Jesusa.
The following morning, the girls from Desbilla rose early – early for their new life. At nine, they gathered in the sala, and Precious called Rozel’s store. Rozel answered, and after a brief exchange of greetings and news, a procedure for communication was worked out. Rozel would take the girls’ numbers, and messages would be passed to the girls’ families that the girls wished to talk with them. When they came to the store, they would give a missed call to the girl’s cell phone, that is, they would call, and when the cell phone rang, immediately hang up, the girl would then call back to Rozel’s number. Rozel would charge for the use of her phone, but now the families had the money to pay.
Finally, Rozel told the girls to wait, and news that they wished to speak with their families, would be passed on.
Precious helped her friends enter Rozel’s number in their contact lists, then they returned to bed, having ensured that their phones were charged and not muted.
Now, all the girls had cell phones given them by customers who wished to keep in touch. As yet, they had few numbers in their contact lists. The boyfriends had entered their own numbers in their home countries. The housemates had exchanged numbers. Some had a few other numbers, workmates and one or two customers. Some customers had given their numbers, and suggested that they contact them after work, for a sneak-out. These customers had, by and large, not impressed the girls, who were looking for open-handed and eligible customers who wanted the full girlfriend experience – the type of customers who offered the prospect of a more permanent relationship. Those soliciting sneak-outs were Cheap Charlies, seeking a quickie for the price of a tip, before kicking the girls back into the street again. The Cheap Charlies were not held in high regard, and were kept in reserve for emergencies – when the rent was due – or the girls were broke.
During the day, there were several false alarms. Each time a phone rang, the girls would gather around expectantly.
First, at about midday, Precious’s phone rang. It was Klaus. He was lying in bed and thinking of her. He missed her. He wished she was there with him. She missed him back. She wished she was there with him. Yes, business was slow. No, she had not been bar-fined. No, she had no money. Yes, she could go back to the province if he sent her some money. Yes, she had a bank account. Yes, these were the particulars. She thanked him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she was waiting for him. Yes, she looked forward to seeing him at Christmas.
‘He will send me money,’ said Precious triumphantly as soon as she hung up, ‘he does not like me to go bar-fine. He will pay it in my bank.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Girlie, ‘First Blen has a customer who will pay for her not to be fucked, now you have a customer who will pay for you not to be fucked. Maybe we all will need a bank account, and we just take customers who like to pay us not to be fucked.’
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