Robot Ponygirls
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Bar Girl Ch. 13 free porn video
Chapter 13. ‘Miss Butt-Slut.’
Angel’s Wand Raid. Blen meets the President. Typhoon Cimaron. Bombs? Stag Night Party. Miss Butt-Slut and the Masters of Uranus.
In mid-evening, there was an alarm. Near the top of Fields Ave, there had been a raid. Angel’s Wand was sealed off by police, and no one was allowed to enter or leave. Mama quickly enforced strict adherence to the guidelines. Customers finished their drinks and walked up the street to watch, as did Daddy Don. Mama hurried to the back to check all paperwork was in order and hide, in a specially prepared hiding place, any unsecured documents which might prove embarrassing – like Blen’s contract – and cash money. Cash rarely survived a police search.
The remainder of the evening passed in tension. No one believed there would be a second raid, but if the man next to you is struck by lightning, the fear lasts as long as you hear thunder.
On Friday, the details had become clear, and Mama and Daddy endlessly mulled over the implications. Daddy had received an account, literally from the horse’s mouth: the executive vice president of the Tourism Association of Angeles City (TAAC), Humphrey. He had attended during the raid, and been himself arrested and abused by NBI officers. Humphrey was the proprietor of small pension house with a bar/restaurant and small staff of five or six GROs. He was actively involved in the bar proprietor’s association, and was well connected.
Having heard of the raid, his wife had driven him to Angel’s Wand, where NBI personnel were still present. On speaking to the officer in charge, he found that the officer had not heard of TAAC, and suspected that he, Humphrey, was a wanted person. The officer explained that the raid was a rescue mission to recover a girl listed as a minor but working at Angel’s Wand. The girl was not on the premises, but the officer had ordered three other girls to be ‘rescued’ as minors, girls about whom he had no information, and whose paperwork was in order. These three girls, together with Mama-san and two supervisors, who were arrested for human trafficking, had been taken to the NBI office.
When told that Humphrey wished to update the president of TAAC, and who that president was, the officer lost control and became abusive. He ordered his officers to arrest Humphrey for obstructing the investigation and take him to NBI headquarters. On the way to the headquarters, sited near the airport, there was a cat and mouse game with Humphrey’s cell phone. When he first tried to use it, the officer in charge, who continued to fulminate, smacked him in the face and confiscated it. Sometimes it was confiscated, and sometimes given back. At one point, he was given it and told to call the president of TAAC and bring him to NBI headquarters. Humphrey got no reply, so he called a government Secretary, who was an advisor to President Arroyo. This gentleman took particulars and said he would see what he could do. When told who had been called, the officer defamed this Secretary, and again confiscated the cell phone. So it was that Humphrey came to be locked up at midnight.
Having been booked in and fingerprinted, he was locked in a cell. Just as he settled to sleep, his door was opened, and he was let out into the holding area, where the three Mama-sans and three ‘rescued’ girls also waited. The officer in charge had returned to Angel’s Wand. Humphrey was told that the NBI required assistance with one of the three Mama-sans, who would not cooperate. If he could persuade her to cooperate, he would be released. Humphrey spoke with the Mama-sans, and was able to determine that the girl in question did not work in the bar, but she was known to one of the Mama-sans, and that a friend of the girl, who had been working that night, might know her whereabouts.
A second team of officers returned to the bar, but the friend had left.
In the morning, Humphrey was released, and his cell phone returned. It transpired that the Secretary had ordered his release the previous evening, and was upset that he had been disobeyed. The Secretary, the President of TAAC and the TAAC lawyer travelled up from Manila that day, and the NBI Director in Angeles was summoned to see them at the Holiday Inn. He was very apologetic about the slapping incident, and the disrespectful references to the Secretary and TAAC President. He undertook to take administrative action against the responsible officers.
Humphrey had not been asked for a bribe, but before the call came through to release him there had already been suggestions that when charges were laid, the US embassy would be informed, and he would lose his retirement pay. It was fiction, but it was the standard prelude to soliciting a bribe. Humphrey’s ordeal had been relatively brief, he was well connected, he had pull. Most foreigners did not, and once fallen into the clutches of the NBI, police or Immigration it was difficult to escape.
As of Friday evening, the three Mama-sans remained locked up. They had been charged with trafficking in relation to the three ‘rescued’ girls, and trafficking was a non-bailable offence. That evening, only one of the girls turned up for work, and she had to be taken to hospital for treatment. Apparently, the girls were all adults, and the NBI officers had then beaten them to compel them to swear affidavits saying that they were engaged in prostitution. This girl was willing to retract her affidavit, but the other two girls were in fear of the NBI, and had fled Angeles.
‘If there is a raid, do not make any affidavit,’ Mama warned the girls, ‘You must wait our lawyer and he will speak with you.’
‘But, what if they beat us like they do with the Angel’s Wand girls?’ asked one.
‘Do not make an affidavit. Ask for our lawyer. If they think you are ignorant provincial girls, they will beat you. If you say you have a lawyer they will leave you alone. Say you will wait the lawyer, and then you make the affidavit. They do not want you to make an affidavit that they beat you.’
The other piece of news that evening was that President Arroyo was to visit Angeles. She would open a prestigious new hotel and casino complex, the Raphael, on the Mimosa estate, a recognition of the hoped for prosperity conferred by the Special Economic Zone status.
‘I want to see the President,’ said Blen. ‘I will go to the hotel and I will shout, maybe she will hear my voice.’
‘We can all go,’ said Amor. ‘I would like to see the President also. When we go home we can say that we have seen the President.’
That night, Nick and Blen lay on his bed, intertwined, and lost in their own thoughts.
‘Why can’t you be like a normal girl and lose your cherry to a hairbrush? Why did I fall in love with a girl who can choose between a sadistic Nazi, a balloon catheter, and a unicorn?’ murmured Nick.
‘Because God punish you, because you go in the church to pick up girls,’ Blen murmured back.
‘Do you think, if I promised to put a lot of money in the Charity Box, he would remove his curse?’
‘If God is a Filipino he will take your bribe,’ said Blen, ‘but I do not think he is a Filipino.’
As they assembled in the lady-house to go to see the President, the girls grew quite excited. Desbilla was remote from everywhere. The highest public officer they would ever see was the barangay captain. Now they were close to the heart of the government. They had seen the president on TV, but to see her in real life, to stand close to her, maybe to appear in the same photograph as her, that would be a tale to tell when they went home.
Nick had his camera to record the event, and promised to try to capture them in the same shot with the President. This would be the first time they had visited the Mimosa Leisure Estate to the north west of the airport. There, there were casinos, golf courses, and tech-parks, and all the infrastructure of a tiger economy coiled to take off and transform Angeles City into a modern commercial and
technocratic hub. This coiled spring had however remained coiled, and after failed investments, the plan had morphed into marrying high-end rest and recreation structures on Mimosa, to the low-end rest and recreation infrastructure of Balibago. The airport had attracted new flights, but they carried investors who headed for the bars of Balibago rather than the tech-parks.
‘What will you say to the President?’ asked Girlie.
‘I will ask why she just go in Mimosa to open a casino, why she does not go in St Nino to open a clinic, or a barangay well. Why is there a golf course for foreigners but no house for the Filipinos? Who can we ask if she does not keep her promise? She is President. If she cannot make our life better, why is she there? Anyone can steal my money. I do not need a President for that.’
‘Maybe it is best if we will not go too close,’ said Girlie.
Travelling by trike and jeepney, they made their way up past Air Force City to the new hotel complex. Security was strict, clearly, a large gathering was discouraged, and, had they not been with Nick, they would have been turned away hundreds of yards from the hotel. They joined a small and orderly throng – many were press photographers – and waited. The President was already inside, and the opening ceremony was taking place out of public view. The clouds drew in, and it grew dark. Another typhoon was heading towards Luzon, and the dark skies, which began to let fall a steady rain, presaged its approach. Soon the crowd stood in puddles.
Suddenly the police and guards bristled, standing alert and looking around. The President was coming out. Nick prepared his camera, and stood back, waving the girls to a good vantage point. Blen spotted a gap in the security, and stepped into it to pose. But, as Nick raised his camera to take the shot, a large hand pushed Blen backwards, sprawling into a puddle.
Nick got his shot. As the president waved toward her, Blen splashed in the mud, unseen and unheard.
The following evening, Typhoon Cimaron, the second super-typhoon in two months, made landfall on northeast Luzon. On Monday, it tracked over the mountainous and more sparsely populated districts to the north, so the destruction and loss of life was less than for Milenyo. Angeles was further from its centre than it had been from Milenyo’s, and the winds were less fierce, but the inundations were much the same.
On Tuesday, as the girls assembled in the sala at the beginning of their day, the clouds began to break up, and beams of sunshine penetrated the soft rain shed by the drying atmosphere, sending a rainbow arcing across the sky. The major electrical generation plant had not failed on this occasion, and the brownouts were local and of short duration, typical of the rainy season.
Pots and pans were emptied, puddled water mopped up, and soon the house was restored to its normal comfort. Blen arrived with Nick, it was now their habit to come over in late morning bringing a contribution to breakfast. Since Nick was hoarding every peso, he refrained from any activity involving expense, and this visit to the lady-house was the social highlight of his day. The girls liked him, but he thought it wise always to bring something to share with Blen’s housemates, by way of rent, in return for their forbearance. After Blen had exchanged gossip and clothes, and made plans with the others, she and Nick would walk – anywhere and everywhere – taking in the sights, exploring the city. Often, Amor would accompany them.
As they walked up Malabanias Road, there was a loud explosion. People in the street stopped and scanned the horizon for rising smoke, but none appeared.
‘That sounded like a bomb,’ said Nick.
‘But there is no Abu Sayyaf here,’ said Blen.
‘There have been many bombs in Mindanao,’ said Amor.
‘I’ve been reading in the papers that there have been threats to target tourist areas,’ said Nick, ‘maybe they’ve begun.’
They scanned the horizon towards Balibago, but there was no telltale puff of smoke dissolving into the sky. The three continued on their walk, looping around, and walking back down Perimeter Road towards Field’s Avenue. They passed down the top of Field’s at about five, passing Angel’s Wand, and as they approached the fork there were police erecting barriers to prevent traffic from entering. Passing down towards MacArthur Highway there was general confusion and consternation.
Daddy Don stood outside Talent Spot. ‘I have no fucking idea what’s happening. No one’s been told about this. We don’t know why, we don’t know for how long,’ he blustered.
‘Maybe it was that bomb,’ said Blen.
‘People are talking about a fucking bomb, I haven’t heard a bomb, or seen any sign of a fucking bomb.’
‘We hear the bomb when we are up on Malabanias. It was maybe two hours ago.’
‘What did you see?’ asked Daddy.
‘Nothing. We hear the bang.’
‘It may have been a car backfiring then. Don’t go talking about a fucking bomb you haven’t fucking seen, you’ll scare all the fucking customers away. If a customer asks, just say it’s been on the cards for a long time, a walking area for tourists.’
Nick and Amor continued on to the bottom of Fields, and then the lady-house. An hour later they walked back up to MacArthur, where Nick turned left to his hotel, and the gaggle of girls crossed and headed for Talent Spot.
By the time they started work, the rumour mill had picked up, exaggerated, and was circulating the most lurid explanations. Apparently, the closure of the entertainment area to traffic had been ordered from Manila that afternoon. The mayor had formulated an emergency plan with the Angeles police and some TAAC members, who had been summoned on short notice. Now, police of the Regional Mobile Group were arriving to provide a heavily armed guard to man the barriers and scrutinise the pedestrians passing through.
No official would confirm or deny it, so the assumption was that there was hard evidence of an intended bomb attack against the tourist district of Balibago. Customers found this explanation more consistent with today’s events than it being a sudden implementation of a long planned pedestrianisation project. For three days, the customers stayed away, preferring to take their chances up Perimeter Road where normality prevailed. It was the worse period Daddy had ever experienced, and he made serious plans to lay off girls and run Talent Spot as a shoestring operation until the future became clear. But, by Friday night, the explosion had been explained, an illegal firecracker factory had exploded, injuring six but killing none, a common enough event in the Philippines. Once the traffic had been reorganised, and the barriers given a more permanent form that did not smack of panic, the security measures gave a feeling of reassurance, and the customers were glad to return to their old haunts.
Although, at the weekend, Talent Spot returned to its normal level of low season business, there were many businesses that were more dependent on customers having transport, and because no provision had been made for local parking, they continued to suffer. Talent Spot had traditionally been reached on foot by bar hoppers, so the effect was minimal.
Two clouds now hung over the entertainment district, the belief that terrorists had chosen Balibago as a target, with the disruption to trade that that entailed, and the continued detention of the three Mama-sans from Angel’s Wand. Feelings ran high in the hospitality trade on account of both issues. The bar managers were dead against any measures which further depressed trade, and the Mama-san’s were outraged that they could be targeted for extortion by the NBI, beating their girls to fabricate affidavits when they were found completely in compliance with the guidelines. Although both groups preferred to work discretely through back channels, on this occasion, both felt it necessary to act openly, through the civic processes.
Hal
loween provided a lift in the mood on Field’s Avenue. Every bar had a Halloween party, and was decked out in pumpkins, witches paraphernalia and ghostly balloons. Halloween had a great appeal for customers and the girls. It was a national festival, being a religious event also, and the imagery and costumes drew the customers out in droves to enjoy the gala event.
Blen and Amor were dressed as little devils, and assigned to dance centre stage.
Since the guidelines were still being strictly followed, their costumes were prepared with great care to ensure that, without actually displaying nipples or pussy, as little of their bodies as possible was covered. With horns worn on their heads, in one hand they carried a triton, and in the other, the arrowhead end of a tail attached to the back of their thongs. Short capes hung from their shoulders, tiny flame shaped pieces of fabric covered their nipples and their thongs plunged to the base of their smoothly shaven pudendas, stopping just short of their vaginas. All the costume was in red, and they wore matching red boots.
Mama felt that this was as much visual interest as she could provide without falling foul of the guidelines. She instructed Amor and Blen to dance all their set, without sitting out for ladies drinks or early release bar-fines, in return they would get an extra ladies share. Two girls from Set B were revealingly clad as witches and given similar instructions.
It was a long evening, but profitable for Talent Spot. The customers came out in numbers, and were in a festive mood, ladies drinks flowed, and some girls were bar-fined. Blen and Amor’s costumes proved very popular, and between sets, they would pose with customers who wanted a photograph of themselves with the girls for their holiday scrapbooks.
A couple of nights later, Daddy scored another coup. A party of twelve rowdy young men in their early thirties came in. Daddy went over to glad-hand them, and found they had come from Canada for a stag party. One of their number was getting married, and they chose Angeles as the ideal venue for this event. The organiser confided that he was a little disappointed because Angeles was not like he remembered it from his previous visit a few years before and he had built up the guys’ expectations, only for things to fall a little flat.
Daddy had a word with Mama to see if there was something they could do. He offered this deal: if the guys partied in Talent Spot until closing time he would lock everyone in, then they could have a no holds barred party, and they could all take back one of his girls for the usual bar-fine. After a talk among themselves they agreed, and proved to be an open-handed bunch, there to celebrate and make the ladies drinks flow.
At two-am the signage was taken in, the door girls withdrawn and, with ‘Closed’ marked across it, the front door was shut and locked from within. From outside, Talent Spot appeared closed, and the music was masked by the music from the late bars.
Inside, Daddy took the microphone to wish the prospective groom well, and declare his stag party open. Mama moved among the girls, instructing them to go topless. Some took off their tops, some just lifted their breasts out of their cups.
Blen, back in her role as shooters girl, stripped off her top.
As she approached, the first table to invite body shots’ Daddy spoke to her. ‘The waitress’ll fetch a couple more bottles and glasses. Tell them it’s body shots on Daddy Don. Get some girls lined up, some of theses guys are newbies, so show them how to do a body shot.’
Blen enlisted Amor to help, and with difficulty got the attention of the first partying group. ‘This game is called body shot,’ she called, ‘I will show you how to do it.’ She poured a tequila shot and gave it to Amor, then took the lemon slice and juiced her own nipples. ‘Now you watch with Amor.’
Amor salted the upturned surface of her left fist, and with her right hand slammed the shot glass on the table, and shot-gunned it, immediately licking the salt off her fist and fastening her mouth onto Blen’s nipple, first her left then her right, slowly and sensuously sucking away the lemon juice. As they moved to the next group for a second demonstration, the waitresses were already placing glasses on the table and pouring shots as girls queued excitedly.
India
- 22.11.2020
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