Sexy nightclub girl warns of entrapment by China dolls

{Pixs of models for illustration purpose only]

Weeks have passed since I wrote about my tippling at Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke with Hussein – almost a clone of Bob Tutupoly in looks -- and Chow Kah, Malaysia’s pale version of ageing-cum-declining Hongkie star Leon Lai. Not that I’ve become an angelic bloke, but I had wanted to discontinue because riffraff bloggers pinched my articles, putting them in their blogs without credit to me. Why write "juicy" stuff for others to copy? I thought. After getting lambasted by me, most of these clowns have removed the plagiarized pieces. So I’ve decided to write again.

Well, tonight’s story is born on a rainy evening –- we’re in the VIP Room of Hot Legs, Jalan Bukit Bintang, brimming with lavender fragrance (the captain has sprayed air freshener) intermingling with the base notes of women’s perfumes. The women are Jessica and Wati – favourite sing-song girls of Chow Kah and Hussein respectively. Jessica is pouring Japanese Asahi for Chow Kah; Wati is cracking Shandong groundnuts between her manicured thumb and forefinger and putting them on a porcelain platter; I’m looking for the latest songs in the leather-bound song menu: these rituals are a prelude to karaoke singing.

Jessica gulps a rivulet of apple juice and begins her story-telling. “Guys, Jimmy, our mutual friend, is now a father.” She’s wearing a lacy, two-feet long dress over her five-feet-seven curvaceous body that always exposes her Victoria’s Secret when she sits.

Wati is disinterested. “So? What’s the big deal?”

Jessica nods repeatedly as she explains. "He’s 45. His son's mother is a China girl. Only 23. She measures 36-23-36. Five feet, six inches. Milky skinned. Face looks like Carina Lau in her younger days. I've seen them together before."

“Lucky man! Are they married?” Hussein asks, his right arm wrapped around the waist of Wati. Wati’s hand rests gently on his lap, creating an intimacy as powerful as black magic, assuring future repeat visits by Hussein.

“Jimmy’s married with three daughters; how can he marry this China girl?” I say, popping some pretzels into my mouth. “He’s keeping her as a mistress, rite?”

“Sort of,” says Jessica. “He’s happy and sad at the same time. In a predicament, he told me. The son was not in his plan during his short fling with this prostitute from China.”

“What happened?” asks Hussein. “The GFE got the better of him huh?”

“Well, a year after this China doll returned to Guilin, she called him. She had not kept in touch with him for several months. She broke the news she had given birth to his child. A few days later, Jimmy received a digital photo in his email. His eyes widened when he saw the baby –- it was a spitting image of him. The girl claims she has no money to raise the baby. She will dump him in an orphanage, unless Jimmy helps her.

“Now, the poor fella’s paying maintenance for his illegitimate son. Last I heard from him was he’s planning to see his son. But first, he needs to create an excuse to his missus to go to China alone. He loves children, can’t blame him.”

Wati sips her air bandung. “This guy’s life is screwed up. Kasihan. How could he be so careless?”

“Actually, he had been tricked, he told me,” says Jessica. “Upon thinking back, now he realized the reason for the girl’s odd behavior before their intimate sessions. She would always go to the bathroom to get condoms. Jimmy’s a lau jiao [veteran] in whoring. He knows condoms are placed in the side-table drawer. Or the girl carries them in her handbag. With this girl, he got careless and didn’t think much of her behaviour. A few times, he saw sewing needles on the marble sink in the bathroom. Can you put two and two together?”

“The girl knows Jimmy’s well-off. She used needles to pierce holes in the condoms,” Hussein speculates, “so that she could get pregnant and blackmail him for maintenance.”

“Pandai!” Wati smiles. Smart.


/end