Friday, September 14, 2012
Nightclub hostess Wati teaches lecherous security guard a lesson
[Pix of model for illustration purpose only]
GRO Wati [left pix] goes to the changing room with her tote bag containing her miniskirt and halter top. She unzips her jeans and wiggles her 38-inch butt out of it. As she starts to fold her jeans, she notices the keyhole of the door has turned dark, though outside is lighted.
She slips into her miniskirt, discreetly moves away from the line of sight through the keyhole, quickly unlatches the door and flings it open. A Gurkha security guard is striding away.
“Hei! Come here!” Wati shouts. “How dare you peep through the keyhole just now?”
The guard stops in his tracks, turns around to face Wati. She recalls his name is Sukbahadur. “Hic! Miss Wati, Good evening, you’re very sexy. Hic! I wasn’t peeping. I was -– hic!”
“What’s this smell?” She sniffs a few times. “Samsu! Goodness, you’re drinking samsu while on duty!”
“Can I be your bodyguard? Buuuuurrrp..." He raises a hand to cover his mouth. “I wish to follow you home every night in your car. But I must put my Raleigh bicycle in your car boot. Then I can cycle home from your place.”
Sukbahadur pouts his lips and leans forward towards Wati. She grabs his right wrist, turns his arm behind his back and pulls it upward.
“Aaaaaaaargh! Let go, please!” the guard gasps. “It’s painful.”
Wati pushes him to Mummy Lulu’s office, and explains what happened. Using a walkie-talkie, Mummy Lulu summons Ah Lek, the bouncer, to her office.
A burly man with close-cropped hair steps in. “Sukbahadur is a Peeping Tom,” Mummy Lulu says. “Wati caught him red-handed. Our hostesses are our most important staff. They must feel secure working here. Sukbahadur must be taught a lesson so that others don’t follow.”
“Come, let’s go to the storeroom for a while.” Ah Lek drags the guard out of the room by the collar. Ten minutes later, Sukbahadur [pix below] emerges, methodically counting his teeth, one of his eyes blue-black.
In the VIP Karaoke Room, I am waiting for Chow Kah and Hussein. Wati enters and, after the social niceties, tells me about the incident.
“I’m not a timid person,” she says. “I’m neither scared of man nor mouse.”
“Great! That’s the way it should be. “ I catch a whiff of jasmine and rose.
“I’ve a black belt in karate.”
She squats to take a magazine from the underneath shelf of the coffee table.
“Eeeeeeeeeeek!” Wati -- wearing four-inch stilettos -- jumps on the coffee table. “It’s a cockroach! I saw a cockroach under the table!”