The VIP Room in Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke is ajar. The air is pregnant with cigarette smoke. To let the stuffiness escape, I have opened the door. Chow Kah sits with his butt on the edge of the sofa, jabbing on his mobile phone. Tonight, we are early and are waiting for Hussein. GRO Wati sashays in with Jessica (the “reddest numbers” in Hot Legs), engrossed in small talk.
Kuachi and groundnut shells on the carpet crack under Wati’s high heels. Her top wraps her 38-inch bosom as tightly as a condom on a male organ. Her nipples perk under the chiffon; she is braless. Jessica looks equally ravishing. Round earrings the size of six centimetes in diametre dangle from her ear lobes. The whiff of her Opium Yves Saint Laurent stirs passion in Chow Kah's heart. Her cleavage is as deep as the Grand Canyon. They both sit down. The hems of their little skirts slip upward, briefly revealing their forbidden fruits. Wati is clad in a red G-string; Jessica, whose creamy skin can cure impotence, isn't wearing any panty.
I say to the gurls: “Please wait for Hussein. You want to eat anything?”
Wati smiles at me, shakes her head, and continues to talk with Jessica.
Chow Kah and I overhear her say: “I like those that are six inches. Not too big, not too small, just right for me. When I put my lips over it, it’s like heaven.”
Jessica giggles. “My taste is different. I’d go for the one-foot long anytime. The bigger, the better. So, how was your appointment yesterday? Were you nervous?”
“A little,” says Wati. “But he was gentle with me.”
Jessica slips off her shoes and tucks her satiny, killer legs under her buttocks. “Oh? Like how?”
“Please open wider, he coaxed me. It won’t hurt, he whispered into my ear. Just let me insert it in, and we can finish in fifteen minutes or so.” Wati crosses her legs, and the fullness of her thighs call out to Chow Kah’s lust.
Chow Kah feels the blood pounding in his manhood. Tumbling into the pit of salacity, he asks: “Wati, can we go out after closing time? How much you charge? I’m also six inches.”
Wati’s red lips spread like a blooming rose. “Huahaahaahaa...What’re you talking about? I’m not a prostitute, just a GRO, nothing more. You’re a regular here, you should know that.”
Jessica waves her forefinger. “Chow Kah, you’ve such a dirty mind.” Her shoulders shiver momentarily in uncontrollable laughter. “Even dirtier motives. Wati and I were talking about Subway sandwiches and her appointment with her dentist.”
I enlighten Chow Kah. “Yes, you can either choose the six-inch or one-foot long bread at Subway.” (Pixs of models for illustration purpose only)
/end
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