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Cebu City and a tale of did-he.


StandIn

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In July 2006, I spent a weekend in Cebu City.

 

Exchange rate was a little over 52 pesos for a US dollar. Rajah Park Hotel, located on Fuente Osmena, a traffic circle, has a special room rate of 888 pesos plus government tax, which came out to under $20 for one person. Add 600 pesos plus tax for a second person in the room with breakfast. A manager at Cebu Midtown Hotel said that a Cebu Pacific Air (CPA to the accounting types) boarding pass shown at check -in could get a deluxe room for under 2,000 pesos, which was about $38. The Rajah room was called a studio and was clean and newish with a tile floor and a queen-sized bed, which had a snug but not closed-in feel without a window.

 

Food was cheap too. Food court in the basement of the same building as the Midtown Hotel had about a dozen stalls with a place of white rice and a meat dish starting about 65 pesos (about $1.25). An eat-all-you-can (not all-you-can-eat) buffet restaurant called Joven located three blocks from the circle on Osmena across from the hospital offered lunch for 135 pesos (about $2.60). There I stuffed myself on roast pork, sausage on a stick, roasted chicken, dim sum, fish, mixed vegetable, noodles, white rice, soup, pickled sea weed, sliced fruits, pastries, etc and drank fountain soda. On the street during the day there were food stalls. The best was Chicken Butterfly, that had golden-brown fried breaded chicken parts, at various prices from 7 pesos (about 15 cents) for neck to 30 pesos (about 60 cents) for breast.

 

Good clubs were Sisters, which was next to the Black Hole on Mango Street, and Temptation, which was about 50 meters down the street after you take a right at the gasoline station on the corner. Easy walking between the two clubs. A beer at Sisters cost 60 pesos (about $1.20) and at Temptation cost 50 pesos (about $1). My favorite place was the Cobra Bar, a second-floor club with a pool table on the first floor, located on Frutoso Ramos about a block pass the Holiday Plaza away from the Midtown. On the glass entrance door of Cobra was a poster for Rev's Driving School, a name more suited for race driving. Imagine a slogan for this place like drink, drive, and shoot pool. A beer cost 60 pesos (about $1.20) which included the price of the entertainment. It was a small place, but audience participation was allowed since a 300-pound German guy in liderhosen with a whale belly got up and showed off his dance moves in competition with a female performer, who looked almost like a dwarf dancing next to the G-man. Other optional costs related to a companion generally ranged around 700 pesos for the club and 1,000 to 1,500 pesos for extras.

 

In a club, I met Juanita who was 20 year old, single, and had been working there for a year. She was medium size with a firm build, luscious tatas and lavish booty, and a Spanish cast to her Polynesian looks and long eyelashes. Dream of long-haired island girl in grass skirt with castanets in hands. Having visited Buenos Aires (by the way, attended one of Jackson's thanksgiving dinners), I am partial to the Latin look and found the Latin-flavored Cebu girls to be attractive in a darkish flavor. Being a 50-plus pudgy, below-average looking guy on a budget, I felt especially fortunate to be the attention of a young girl in spite of the competition of all the other guys, most were lean studs in their 30s from Australia and Europe and their bulging pockets with enough money to buy lots of lady drinks (around 150 pesos or $3). Truth be said, I had not been with a girl for a long time and had some misgivings on whether I could perform or not. Guys tell that it is like riding a bicycle, in that you never forget and your body will remember how.

 

As I gazed into Juanita's beautiful dark eyes and we embraced in my hotel room, I had this feeling that she was the right one for me. This feeling was tripled when her soft lips and mouth tenderly massaged my bare fob of throb. Looking back, I recognized my feeling was tainted with long-term abstinence. Without thinking after donning protection, I grasped her upper arms like bike handles and positioned myself missionary-wise. Then a moment of panic hit me. How could I pedal if I was on both my knees? I was ready to launch, but did not know where to go. It was like reving up a car engine, but it would not kick start into action. I tried rocking from one knee to the other knee to sort of simulate pedaling a bike. It was no help. Juanita gave me an odd look of what is this guy doing. Finally, she grabbed me and we were doing it. I looked at her laying on her back and saw that she was pumping her legs up and down alternately. Now I understood what went wrong. The trick to riding a bicycle was for me to be the bicycle and let her do the riding.

 

Luckily, I found her hot spot. It was a vampiric kiss to the side of her neck. All I can say about my kiss is that eating Chicken Butterfly neck was good practice for doing it. As she approached her pinnacle, I felt a moment of pride. Such moments were, of course, indoctrinated by American feminists that a decent man should give priority to his woman and that his satisfaction means nothing unless she has her satisfaction regardless of his. After years of such indoctrination, I could not help but feel pride like Captain Ahab standing on a peg leg atop the bridge of his ship the Herman Melville as he spied the great white whale raising its head above the ocean waves. Thar she blows.

 

I did a good job, because Juanita said it was good and even gave me a pet native name, Ling. Her exact words when she pinocled were, good-Ling good-Ling. Afterwards, Juanita said she had to leave. But, I said you committed to staying with me for three hours until 3 am when the club closes and when you had to return home to your parents. She said that she had to return to the club to check out before it closes. I said there were still another two hours for that and time enough for an encounter of a second kind. She said that I could return to the club for her tomorrow for seconds.

 

Wondering if we would ever meet again, I reached for my camera and took her photo. She told me to not show her photo to my friends. I said that would make you my secret girl friend. She asked increduously with disbelief you want a girl friend who works in a club? I had not seriously consider having her as a girl friend meaning a serious relationship, but at the same time I was seriously subconsciously hoping for her to become my girl friend meaning a regular companion for at least the time I was there and maybe then some. The best I could respond at that moment was to say was my girl friend would no longer be a companion to other guys at least in a biological sense. When I said this, I started to stutter and mumble and silently called myself a blithering idiot.

 

The next day, I pondered what was said, what could be done, and future possibilities. I walked around Cebu trying to clear my head and encountered a building under construction, the Crown Plaza Hotel. A sign sign said something about a model available for viewing, so I walked up the driveway which led to a second building in back of the first building. There was a sales office for Club Ultima which offered membership for a sports club, restaurant, and second hotel and with club membership the possibility to buy a condo in a third building starting about $50,000 for a basic unit of 50 square meters without flooring or fixtures. No details were given on its web site of the same name, because it was in the pre-selling (the sales lady pronounced it pray-sa-lyn) phase with prices to increase next week and almost two-thirds of the 300 condo units already sold with construction to be completed in three years. I wondered if I were to buy a condo, would it impress Juanita? Would she wait three years or longer for installation of the flooring, fixtures, and interior design for furniture and decorations? Was learning how to ride a bicycle again worth these mental ups and downs?

 

I guess I better close this note. I hope it provides some new information for dudes interested in this city and maybe a facet of personal experiences.

 

Stand In (on a corner and watching all the girls go by).

Stand In (a substitute for somebody else)

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