Ewe Paik Leong, The Wordslinger: How to spot a horny woman and take one home, according to Jessica and Wati of Hot Legs Niteclub

“Who’s that new GRO talking with Mamasan Lulu?” asks Chow Kah. “Pretty face but dressed like an officer worker. Must be boring to have her as company.” Mid-thirties and well-heeled, my drinking buddy is wearing black loafers with tassels on them, a bluish polo shirt hanging out of his gray slacks, and a thick gold watch that gleams like soft butter on his wrist.

Seated beside Chow Kah, Jessica is dropping crushed ice cubes into glasses with a pair of thongs. Braless, her cleavage is peeping out of her strap top and her long legs are encumbered by a brief pair of shorts.

“Don’t judge an apple by its outer skin,” I say, leaning back on the velvety settee.

“It’s true,” Hussein grunts, both hands resting on his beer belly. “Last month, a girl who wears a tudong started working in my office. Weeks later, her character was revealed. She’s got four boyfriends, keeps four separate handphones for each boyfriend.” The middle-aged playboy’s eyes are two mahogany marbles that are almost lost behind the puffy pouches that buttress them.

Wati adjusts her the strap of her brown top. “Exterior clothes are not important, it’s the lingerie that reveals a girl's sexuality." Her 36-34-38 figure is packed in her five-feet-seven frame, and her smooth hands with slender fingers ending in long varnished nails are resting on Hussein’s lap.

I toss my gaze from Wati’s face to Jessica chewing her thumbnail, her legs on the sofa. “Like how?” I ask, swivelling my eyes back to Wati’s bronzed shoulders kissed by loose strands of silky cinnamon-colour, down a curvy figure that always drives patrons wild.

“If she loves to wear sexy panty and bras, she's highly sexed. If they’re plain white or plain black, she's as cold as frozen meat.” Wati picks a stick of satay from a platter and feeds Hussein.

“Has your theory been tested?” I ask.

“From my experience with spa girls, it’s true,” Hussein says, chewing a chunk of chicken meat. “When a spa girl undresses and she’s in sexy undergarments, I know I’m in for a good time. If she’s wearing plain white bra and panty, I know it’s wham-bam, thank you-maam.”

“Yes, girls who wear sexy panty’re easier to sleep with," Wati says.

“I also heard about this theory before,” Chow Kah says. “But what an experience I had testing it.” He slides sideways to entwine an arm around Jessica’s waist and they become a pair of Siamese twins.

“Share the story.” I take a sip of my Singapore Sling.

Chow Kah’s small eyes hop-scotch from face to face in the KTV room. “Last time, I was a dating a colleague. She stays alone with her father, her mother had passed away. I went to her condo to see what kind of lingerie she wears. I pretended I wanted to smoke and went to the balcony. To my excitement, I saw a silk, lacy leopard-spot panty with matching brasserie and another hot set of frilly undergarments hanging to dry. Full steam ahead I went to court her. One evening after watching a movie, I drove her to Titiwangsa, stopped in the car park.” The veteran night-clubber’s shoulders slump as he continues. “We chatted and I leaned forward to kiss her. She slapped me. I was so embarrassed and apologized profusely."

“Tough luck, end of friendship?” Jessica asks, decanting red wine into Chow Kah’s glass.

Chow Kah fills his mouth with crushed ice and red wine, and chews while he studies my face. He takes a big swallow. “Lucky, we remained as friends. Couple weeks later, I cooked up an excuse to go to her condo again to double-check what I had seen earlier.” He puts his glass down and points to it for a re-fill. “This time, I saw plain bras and panty hanging in the balcony. I couldn’t resist asking her about the sexy lingerie. ‘Sorry, are those undergarments yours?’ I asked her. Why you ask, she replied. Weeks ago, I remember having seen frilly panties? I told her. She explained that those frilly panties belong to her 80-year old grandmother. Sometimes she visits her family. That day, the crone was sleeping in her room, that’s why I didn’t see her.” The philanderer casts his gaze about the furniture. “Where’s the song menu?

“Now I remember.” Eyes squinted in thought, Wati puts a finger to her chin. “The Journal of Psychohealth published the first documented case of a 20-year-old Bangaldesh married woman who’s oversexed. She and her husband had sex five or six times in the early days of their marriage. A year later, he couldn’t continue the rigor, so she divorced him. Year 2020, Volume 2, Issue 1.” The hottie hunches her shoulders in a giggle. “Why don’t you contact the journal to get to know her?”

“Cheh!” Chow Kah makes a face. “Too far, Bangla girls are not my taste, too. Any other local sources?” Jessica slides the menu from the bottom rack of the coffee table, places it on her darling’s lap, who delivers a quick peck on her cheek. “Thanks, dear.”

“There’s Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous Malaysia.” Wati grabs her handphone from the coffee table and fiddles with it. “Try your luck there, become a member, and hook up with over-sexed women. But these're people trying to cure their sex addiction, not seeking sex, so your shenanigan may backfire.” The Indonesian bombshell springs to her feet, takes a step forward and shows her handphone to Chow Kah. “Look, here’s their website. Good luck!”