Hotlegs

It was all over the radio and newspapers. Davao City Mayor Rodrigo Duterte ordered the closure of the girlie bar Hotlegs and softened his stance a few days later after the manager and its owner promised to disallow the entry of minors in the joint and of course, abide by the 2:00 deadline on alcohols.

I wouldn’t even presume to comment about his cartwheel judgment. Though this bit of news made me recollect my early forays into these nude/semi-nude girlie bars. I think only the most hard-core pervert would find looking at naked or semi-naked girls dancing on stage erotic.

Let me walk you through what goes on inside.

We entered this darkened room with monobloc chairs and tables, draped in red cloth for a touch of elegance. I guess the red cloth was in keeping harmony with the red curtains surrounding the bar. Scanning the room, I could see people nursing their drinks (it’s P40-P60 per bottle of beer, after all) with the girls in various states of undress “entertaining” the customers.  

This gaudy theme is pretty much a portent of things to come.

As Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses was played on the background, I saw a solitary girl, in sequins no less, dancing on a platform with a shower head protruding from the makeshift cardboard ceiling and a mirror behind her. Her long bright scarlet boots covered her knees while a skimpy skirt concealed her flabby buttocks. The only thing I could see in between the boots and the skirt was a flash of gigantic thighs that have seen better days.

When I say dance, I was being kind. It was more like thumping and thrashing, really. Like a bad cheerleading routine, the girl was doing somersaults, a series of splits, jumps, pirouettes, stunts and clapping her hands enthusiastically. Come to think of it, it’s pretty amazing how she did all those things in semi-nakedness.

As my attention drifted towards my drink I heard a loud noise.

THUD!

My heart skipped a beat and I turned to where the noise was coming from.

Oh, it was just the girl doing a cartwheel.

Excuse me if my balls got snagged in my throat. The darkened room, the gaudy interior, the kitschy soundtrack… sounds familiar? They’re just the ingredients to all slasher and psycho flicks all over the world!

How could I be aroused if any moment I thought Chuckie the doll would come barging from behind the curtains and ram an electric vibrator up my ass?

THUD!

Okay, the girl was doing splits this time. God, let this hell end.

The manager brought two girls with her to sit with us. One was a small, thin (bulimic?) girl with braces, in midriff; and the other was a buxomy girl with curves in all the wrong places. In my drunken state, I thought the thin girl with an innocent face was more tolerable.

Big mistake.

I guess I have to set the table first here. The girls earn more from the ladies drink they order, which the customer pays, than from dancing which is just part of the package deal to entice customers. Star dancers, or those who are willing to go nude all the way, generally earn more. At P100 to P120 per drink, they get 30 to 40 percent depending on the bar. To call a waiter, they just have to clap their hands. It’s non-alcoholic so they could go all night ordering the stuff.

The girl I chose? Man, she sure could clap her hands. That was her single talent I believe since I never saw her dance on stage. By the time the night was over, my pockets are as empty as my gut was later that night when I puked all my entrails into the toilet bowl.

My companion, meanwhile, had the time of his life because the girl that I rejected turned out to be a neophyte who was too shy to clap her hands. The manager had to go to our table a few times and ordered for her. So instead of paying for the ladies drink, he was busy enough necking with her.

Oh, she was good. But I was better. I knew that the only way to prevent her trigger-happy hands from clapping and calling the attention of the waiter, I had to:

1. Chop off her hands

2. Whack her with a beer bottle on the head

3. Make her my girlfriend

I opted for the third and less extreme option instead. Sure it took me a few more visits but she became my girlfriend in the end. No more numerous claps. No more empty pockets. 

I got a freebie.