Thursday, January 17, 2013
Nightclubber Chow Kah gets invited to a sleazy dangdut lounge
[Pixs of models for illustration purpose only]
Seated at a hawker stall on Alor Road, Chow Kah scans the pedestrian traffic. Foodies and tourists are striding on the pavement, weaving around the tables, while cars are crawling on the tarmac. Using chopsticks, he pincers a beef ball to his mouth. Occasionally, his sight catches a hot babe and his imagination goes wild.
“Can I sit here?” a voice asks him.
He turns to his side to see a man in his mid-twenties. “Sure.”
“Thank you.” The man has hair plastered down with cream and exudes the scent of lavender and orange blossom. He says to the hawker’s Indonesian assistant: “One bowl of beef noodles, please.” He flashes a smile to Chow Kah: “You come here for supper often?”
Chow Kah gazes at his bowl. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“I was supposed to go with a friend for some hot, sexy Malay girls. Best in KL. But last minute, he had to cancel. ” The man is wearing a Hawaii shirt of floral design.
“How sexy is sexy? I know all the places with hot GROs."
“It’s a dangdut lounge. Just fifteen minutes walk from here. Customers can ask the GROs to do strip-tease in the karaoke room. After our supper, why don’t we go there? We can split the bill so it won’t dent our pocket. There’s also billiards and darts.” He extends his right hand. “By the way, I’m Frankie. You are?” He has a flat nose and small eyes.
Eyes glowing with excitement, Chow Kah grips Frankie’s hand like a vice for a moment. “My name’s Ang Chow Kah. I think I should ask my father to come along. He loves strip-tease shows.” He looks at his watch. “Right now, he’s having a massage at Hotel Imperial. His forty-five minute should be over by now.”
The Indonesian waiter returns with a bowl of beef ball noodle.
“Great idea.” Frankie smiles and starts to attack the bowl of beef ball noodles. “I’m a regular there -- Kelab Bokong Semok. I can tell you who the best GROs are. Very heow and fun to play with.”
Chow Kah and Frankie make small talk for another ten minutes.
A man with grey hair and receding hairline ambles to the table. “Ah, here’s my father,” Chow Kah says.
Inside the Bilik Melor of Kelab Bokong Semok, the three men ogle at the six brown-skinned GROs standing in front of them. Sporting a goatee, the papasan introduces the pleasure-givers. “From left to right. This is Mai, she’s can give extra services. Next is Suzie, offers super-high GFE. Tina is the tall one, she’s a sex commando.” He chortles and harrumphs. “Julie speaks good English, she’s very eager to please. Habibah is new in this club -- shy but is full of lust. Last girl is called Anis, former super model."
Chow Kah and his father, Mor Sai, crane their necks like tortoises to gawp at the sex bombs. Licking his lips, Frankie mops sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief and picks two girls. Mor Sai chooses the youngest of the lot and when she sits beside him, he looks old enough to be her Gramps. Chow Kah, who’s a softie for good looks, takes the former model. The papasan and the remaining two girls take their leave.
Frankie, sandwiched between the two loin-twitching sex kittens, scans the menu and tells them: “Order anything you want, darlings.” He looks up at the Bangladeshi waiter, wearing a polka-dot bow tie and a red vest. “Hennesy X.O., sirloin steak and chicken tacos, please.” The waiter nods his head repeatedly as he takes the orders from the GROs and three fun-seekers.
More than three hours roll by with lots of eating and drinking and fondling and petting and french-kissing. Frankie, who ate like a starved lion and drank like a straggler in a desert, gets up from the settee. “Excuse me, darlings, I need to pee.” He leaves the karaoke room to head to the washroom.
After thirty minutes, he still hasn't gone back to the karaoke room. Chow Kah goes to look for him but his new-found friend is not in the men’s washroom or at the bar counter. He asks the receptionist. She says: “That guy wearing Hawaii shirt? He left half an hour ago -- appeared to be in a hurry."