Readers' Submissions

A Filipina Called Alice And A Lot Of Angst…




I'd left Alice in a nice apartment in Angeles whilst I'd retreated to Blighty to consider my options and attend the funeral of a widowed aunt. Was I being paranoid or just picking up on some bad vibes – I was having frightening visions of planted drugs and losing all my money. Those damn mobile phones and lots of whispering in the local lingo had my mind going wild with conspiracy theories. I managed to stay with her for near on all of my time in Angeles, not the kind of woman to let out of your sight… she didn't quite edge over into a tampo – a long sulk in which not a word would be uttered that according to other foreigners could last for days or weeks when the woman didn't get her own way – but it was a close run thing.

The apartment block was U-shaped in design with an open balcony running on the inside with entrance doors off it. Two storeys up and overlooking my room, there was this 90-year-old German guy in a wheelchair who was seeing out his last years administered by a pretty twenty-something private Filipina nurse. He wasn't dying of any particular illness just being taken down by old age and figured that this wasn't a bad way to go out compared to a nursing home back in the Fatherland. If you squinted you could see that in the past he had been an attractive guy and still had some of that charm in his manners – he was one of those large, blue-eyed Germans who got Hitler all excited. Anyway, he had decided that he would keep an eye on the comings and goings of the delectable Alice, pointing to a large pair of binoculars that conjured up a vision of him commanding a tank and bombing all before him. Give the old bugger something to do, anyway.

Armed with his mobile number I had a rough way of keeping an eye on Alice. Like Thai Mem she had a disconcerting way of concentrating all her time and energy on your author, trying to burn out any thought of duplicity with an excess of imaginative and highly addictive sex. Both were absolutely convinced that I could not live without them. And a little voice, of course, whispers, what do you expect when consorting with women two decades younger than you deserve – much younger and I'd be breaking the law.

Unfortunately, almost everywhere we went young Filipino guys would give her big smiles and a line of Tagalog chatter, not in the least concerned by my death stares. Many of them loped off in a state of discontent, rejection something few of them seemed to manage. Whilst beating the shit out of them would've made my day, I knew all about the way Asians reacted to threats – rabid dog packs of them out for vengeance and almost every day I was in Angeles there was a report of a foreigner being shot or beaten almost to death. Instead, when they started a conversation I would talk loudly to Alice, drowning out the pleas of the guy – causing both Alice (fearing violence) and the guy to scowl but they eventually got the message. After a few sessions like that Alice changed her expression to a dead eyed glare when some other guy looked at her. In my book, a good result.

Angeles has a couple of shopping malls, a few big Catholic churches and an endless array of bars, not just the go-go joints for foreigners but bars for the Filipino guys who seemed even more addicted to cheap, easy sex than the so-called sex tourists. There were also some discos, Startrax the nearest to Fields and a noisy old place with a terrible grinding music that set my teeth on edge but Alice loved being in places like that so I had to suffer in silence. She usually brought along a female friend – a surprising number had absent sponsors – to dance with as the sight of my beer belly wobbling all over the place didn't inspire her dancing. So I slouched on the edge of things, drinking even more beer than normal, making my poor old belly feel like it was about to explode after a dozen of those sweet tasting San Miguels. To be fair to myself, a lot of the Filipino men were thickset and equally large in the stomach so I don't think the gals cared all that much, or if they did they didn't have much choice in the matter.

These heated nights tended to blur into each other and if you asked me what I was doing on a particular night I probably would not to be able to tell you anything more than supping lots of beer and ending the day with crazy sex with a gal who could pass for a model or movie star. Compared to my days in the UK I could not really complain…

Having lost my job and rented out my house I was lucky to have the family agree that I could house-sit the terraced house that my aunt had left to be split between various family members. It had a dodgy gas fire that almost scorched my leg the first time I turned it on and the original early nineteen hundred's electrics that flickered threateningly when I turned the TV or immersion heater on. It was unlikely that any squatters would be desperate enough to take it on but a free house in Bournemouth wasn't to be sneezed at and the family were, for once, happy with me!

They would've been less happy if the saw me with the black hooker I'd picked up, she reckoned she was from Ethiopia and much more attractive than the usual West Indian type of Africans that you normally see in the UK. Coal black skin, an athletic body with big breasts that stood straight out without any aid from cosmetic surgery and nipples bigger than many a Thai guy's member! After the hour's sex and fifty quid poorer, I looked out the window to see her being driven away by a guy who looked like Idi Amin's younger brother – you soon learn that as far as hookers go the more attractive the woman the uglier the pimp. Fifty quid was very cheap for the UK so I must not complain, just savour the passing moment.

A pattern soon emerged from my German spy, Alice having daily visits from a large Filipino cop who stayed about half an hour each early evening – as if he was stopping off on the way from work to his own family. It did occur to my paranoid mind that the German might be making up stories so that he could get Alice to pleasure him, the wonders of Viagra reinvigorating the elderly and causing all kinds of chaos. The guy was always touching up his nurse who didn't seem to mind, money rules.

I phoned Alice at this time, expecting her phone to be turned off… but no the little darling answered the phone! When I asked what the background noise was she said she was on the bed, pleasuring herself to the sound of my voice and demanded I talk sexy to her. I asked to talk to the Filipino cop who was really pleasuring her and all the joy went out of her day – the cop suddenly shouting down the phone, “I will kill you!” Like many Asian guys, any hint of intelligence on the part of foreigners threatening the whole little world they have built for themselves, his voice actually seeping out evil. Unlike the women, they could not even be bothered to bluff it out!

After two days of texts and phone calls that I did not answer, I finally gave in and listened to Alice's tale of woe. A year before she had been working in Camelot Bar when it was raided by the police and they had all been carted off to the police station. She had agreed to give half her earnings for a year to one of the Angeles cops in return for her freedom but the money had never been enough and he had demanded free sex when she didn't have a customer… now she had a foreigner, the cop wanted her to set me up so they could have a big pay-off and in return she would have her freedom!

She suggested that we meet up in Manila and start all over again, promising all kinds of things to get me sexually motored up. I laughed out loud at this audacity, having visions of her cop friend chasing us down and putting a bullet in my head to assuage his loss of face. Emails, texts and phones calls followed, a barrage that eventually left me so senseless that I gave in and agreed to take her to Cebu – Manila far too easily accessed from Angeles city for my liking.

When I put the phone down I gave myself a good talking to and got the Ethiopian gal to come give me a second session to burn the Filipina out of my mind… she reckoned that Idi Amin was only her driver and if I wanted to get serious about her, the possibilities were endless. I concluded that I must have the face of an imbecile or something, wasn't sure if I should burst into laughter or cry myself to sleep.

When in doubt, toss a coin – the next day I flipped a pound coin and it came up heads, which meant I was off to Cebu… I would toss a coin to see if a gal called Alice was stiff in my life once in Cebu!


Stickman's thoughts:

I don't like the sound of the involvement of that cop. Love triangles with coppers or dating women with a cop in the family can be asking for trouble…