It was 8:00 in the morning on a bright, gorgeous Sunday morning as the plane slowly taxied up to the gate. Gazing out the window, I could see the sun-drenched downtown San Diego business district; it was obvious that today would be a warm one. The plane came to a stop, and the seat-belt light flashed off with a "ding". I unbuckled my belt, and stretched and yawned. Not a yawn of exhaustion, but one of contentment.

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It had been two long years, almost to the day, since I had been in this neck of the woods. March 2002, to be exact. Of course, my final destination was about twenty miles to the south, on the other side of an international border. My long absence from these parts was not of my own free will. After first visiting Tijuana back in April 2001 and sampling in its carnal delights, I became a certified TJ addict, and found all sorts of creative ways to get back there.

But after my third visit, and final one up till now, life came along and dumped a steaming hot pile of crap on my head. I got laid off from my job in late 2002, just a couple of weeks before I was planning to return to TJ. Needless to say, that trip got cancelled, and my mongering life got put on hold. Of course, that was the least of my concerns. The job market in my field was frightfully bad. I got a good severance package, but that eventually ran out. I did some part-time work on the side, but that only goes so far. And not having any reliable source of income makes one reevaluate one's priorities.

Finally, I got another job in late 2003. All things considered, it's a good one. However, it required me to make a 2,000-mile move. I won't go into the uprooting and logistical issues involved with that move, but let's just say they were, and still are, substantial. But the one silver lining: that 2,000-mile move brought me 2,000 miles closer to TJ.

The itch to return to TJ slowly came back, but I knew I needed to take my time and recover financially from being out of work. A few weeks ago, I was fooling around on Orbitz and found a cheap fare to San Diego. I couldn't resist, and just like that, my plans to return were in place. I set a strict budget for this trip (too strict, as it turned out), and limited my stay to 24 hours.

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The process of getting to TJ has always been part of the thrill for me. It's almost like prolonged foreplay. I don't expect local San Diego guys, who constitute much of the TJ internet crowd, to understand that. So bear with me. We long-distance TJ visitors may be a dying breed, but we're still out there.

I walked out of the baggage claim area into the public transportation pickup sector, breathing in the warm air. More evidence that today would be a scorcher. The 992 bus showed up, my lift to center city. There is no major metropolitan area in the US that I think is more beautiful than San Diego. I'll confess that I sent a few resumes to San Diego-area companies during my period of unemployment. The only thing that discourages me from residing there is the high cost of living.

I disembarked at the America Plaza station, sat down and waited for the trolley. Here is where I began to experience flashbacks. It was in this very station, three years ago, that I waited for the trolley one April evening. I was a nervous TJ newbie, staying at the nearby Emerald Plaza Hotel on business, venturing southward into the Zona Norte for the first time. An AB lady I dubbed "Elisa" (not her real name) would claim my TJ cherry that night, and I developed a very special professional relationship with her over the span of three multi-day visits.

On to the trolley, heading south. Wow...check out the new Padres stadium! I'm a baseball nut, and I might have to catch a game on a future trip. And it's easily accessible from the trolley.

Around the Beyer Blvd. stop, a wide-angle view of TJ suddenly bursts into view. My gaze found the arch at the head of Revolucion, and I knew I was almost there.

I stepped out onto the pavement in San Ysidro, right in front of the McDonald's. My watch said 11:00. It was too early to check into my room at the Villa de Zaragoza across the border, so I decided to kill some time in San Ysidro. Passing through the maze of construction in this area, I saw a sight that cracked me up and made me want to forget it at the same time.

Walking down the street was some guy wearing nothing but the bottom half of a bright red bikini, with a good portion of his genitals spilling out the sides. Several people in the vicinity were whistling and laughing. The inevitable consequence occurred quickly as a police car showed up. "A little hot today, are we?" one policeman laughed as he and his cohorts grabbed the guy and tossed him into the back seat of the cop car. And the creepiest part was the look of delight on the dude's face as he was being manhandled.

The entertainment had commenced, and I wasn't even in TJ yet.

I grabbed a bite to eat at the Jack-in-the-Box, then hoofed it across the pedestrian overpass to Border Station Parking. I boarded the Mexicoach bus, sharing the ride with elderly shoppers, a few families, and your typical Sunday afternoon tourist types. It was like visiting Disneyland. But I knew that I didn't have to go too far to see the other side. That's the beauty of TJ.

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Frustrated, I strolled up 8th Street away from the VdeZ, still lugging around my travel bag. It was 1:30 and my room wasn't ready. I hadn't made a guaranteed reservation ahead of time, not wanting to give them my credit card information, since I'd heard of some mongers who'd had problems in this regard at the VdeZ. But at the same time, they claim to only hold a room until 3:00 without a guaranteed reservation. The gentleman at the front desk told me it would be ready in an hour, and assured me there'd be no problem holding the room. Just to be sure, I paid up in cash, and asked for a receipt.

I decided to wait until I had my room before hitting the Zona. I whiled away some more time on Revo. It was exactly as I remembered it... loud, bustling, a strange mix of family-friendly pursuits and sleaze. The midday sun was beating down... it must have been close to 90 degrees. I ducked into an Internet cafe for a bit, then headed back toward the VdeZ. Among other things, I now needed a shower.

The verdict at the VdeZ? Room still not ready. It was 2:45, and I was directed upstairs into the restaurant, with the assurance it would only take a few more minutes. Around 3:10, I went back down to the office, where finally - FINALLY - the guy gave me the key to my room.

I lost an hour and a half by waiting for the damn room, and it's pretty obvious that I didn't have a lot of time to begin with. When I planned out this trip, I had wanted to be checked in and getting started in the Zona well before 3 p.m.

But I have to say that from this point on, my experience at the VdeZ was a positive one. I was assigned room 223, up on the second floor. The rooms are comfortable and functional and were actually a bit nicer than I had expected. It's quiet, and I'd love to whisk away a chica here for an all-nighter, though that wasn't an option on this trip.

This was also the first time I ever stayed at a hotel south of the border. Now that I've done it, I wonder why I didn't do it before.

I showered quickly and changed, stuffed some cash in various pockets and stepped out the door, locking it behind me. Time to get this show on the road.

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Standing on the corner of Coahuila and Constitucion, I surveyed the scene. Up till now, everything in TJ had appeared the same as it did two years ago. Oh, the Internet cafe under Azteca Massage that I used to frequent was gone, but many others had sprung up everywhere. But here, at the crossroads of the Zona Norte, there were changes. A freshly-paved sidewalk. Palm trees planted along the side of the road. Street lamps on the corners. A median strip running down the middle of Coahuila. And the taco stands...gone! GONE! Say it ain't so! I never had the chance to sample the ambrosia that was constantly being created at these Zona institutions. Never got around to trying them out on any of my prior visits. And the succulent smell of searing meat and vegetables has been purged from the vicinity forever. Actually, in all seriousness, those taco stands really contributed to the setting, and the Zona is not the same without them.

But I didn't dwell on the demise of the taco stands for too long, because I had some curtains to part.

Same routine as always. Push aside curtains. Step inside. Go blind momentarily. And before the eyes adjust, feel a soft, feminine hand grab your crotch.

I was once again inside the Adelita Bar, one of my favorite places on the entire planet.

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Perched on a stool at the upper bar, an hour later, Coke in hand, I was still taking everything in. The one thing that struck me was the lack of familiar faces among the chicas. There was the usual assortment of cuties and not-so-cuties, short, tall, blonde, brunette, morena, blanca, flaca, gordita. But not a one I could say I'd seen before. Had it really been that long?

I'd been already approached by a fairly dark-skinned chica with the glossy, almost luminescent lipstick that seems to be uniquely popular among Mexicanas. She'd given me her sales pitch, and I'd asked her name. She replied, "Elisa". Ummmm... sorry, sweetie, but that name's already taken as far as I'm concerned. Next!

Actually, I had already decided to wait and let the tension build for a while. Call it erotic self-denial. Hey, if I could wait two years for my Latina fix, what's another hour?

A few more chicas passed by and offered their services. I had hoped to start off with a lady I already knew, and Candi was the one for whom I was on the lookout. But she was nowhere to be found on this particular Sunday afternoon.

Some ladies didn't even bother to stop and chat. They'd saunter by sexily, slow down or stop completely for a few seconds, give me a profile view of their figure, and brush back their hair with their fingers. And when I didn't respond, they'd move on.

Slowly, gradually, I resigned myself to hunting for new blood, and activated my radar, in search of that all-important vibe. How about that Pamela Anderson look-alike standing under the TV? Ice queen vibes. Pass. The slim, short brunette with the school-girl innocence decked out in jeans and a T-shirt that reads "Lucy"? Too young for my tastes. That blonde with the killer body and the Jennifer Aniston haircut? She's interesting, but... never mind, there she goes, upstairs with some guy.

When you get right down to it, I'm very picky. I can't quantify what it is that I'm picky about, but believe it or not, it isn't looks.

I started to become aware of a chica, way back on the far dance floor. She was standing by herself. She looked to be about thirty, medium-length dark brown hair, Anglo features, and went very light on the makeup, which made her kind of plain-looking. She was wearing a solid black, sleeveless dress. She reminded me of a pretty, demure teacher. I picked up a vibe, and made my way over to get a closer look.

I could see that she was aware that I was checking her out. She began to sway softly from side to side, a universal come-hither gesture among AB chicas.

Before I could make my move, another guy approached her and tried to strike up a conversation. He was quite intoxicated; he stumbled around the stage as he attempted to speak, at one point nearly falling directly on her. She humored him for a minute, then made her escape, heading across the bar. For some reason, this made me want her even more, and I set off in pursuit.

Suddenly, I felt a hand in my crotch. I looked downward to see just who owned that hand. Standing before me was a light-skinned lady, about 5'2", with long, wavy light brown hair. She had on a black top and a very short red leather miniskirt. She introduced herself as Monica, from Mazatlan. She cupped my balls with her hand through my trousers, tightened her grip ever so slightly, and claimed my undivided attention. Damn, I'm easy. The quick ambush technique works on me every time. Teacher girl was soon forgotten, and I never saw her again.

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I sat on the side of the bed watching Monica get undressed. I wondered why the walk up the Stairway to Heaven caused some of these ladies to appear to age ten years. Monica was no exception. For me, though, that's not a big issue. I prefer the more seasoned ones.

Topless, she bent over and removed one of her shoes, then the other. Strappy, curvy, pointy high heels and Latina feet go together like peanut butter and jelly. She stepped out of her skirt. Fully naked, she turned to face me, and smiled.

Although her body wasn't flawless, it's fair to say that I liked what I saw. A few extra pounds maybe, and a few extra lines in the face, but overall, she was very attractive. Nice full breasts, neatly trimmed bush, and deep hazel eyes.

I stood up; she came over to me and dropped to her knees. In a deft move, she hooked my briefs with each index finger and hiked them down to my ankles. She took me into her mouth sin condom, gave two quick sucks, two kisses on each nut, and without even looking up to face me, said, "Okay. Pay me now."

Talk about a mood killer... I was indeed a bit perturbed. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but the money exchange is always awkward for me. I don't mind paying up front; in many respects, it's better to get it out of the way before the action starts. But for her to do it like this... teasing the hell out of me, and asking me to pay her while I'm hot and bothered, in an inferior negotiating position, just seemed all kinds of wrong. I don't know... maybe I've been spoiled. I forked over what I thought was warranted, she didn't complain, and we picked up where we left off. But the sexual momentum was definitely blunted.

Monica did do her best to see that I got off. Pretty good oral, though she slapped on a condom when it came time for prolonged contact. She got in the doggie position, and rubbed my member between her heavily lubed butt cheeks for a good five minutes. No anal penetration, and I didn't seek any, since that's not my thing at all. She's actually quite skilled at that butt cheek rubbing thing, and it was easily the best part of the session. Then we switched to missionary, and then back to doggie for the climax. She then asked me to roll over, oiled me up and gave a more-than-passable massage. She claimed to see lipstick marks on my cheeks, asked who put them there, and wiped them off with a tissue from her purse. "In case you have wife or girlfriend," she laughed. We did make it to the 30-minute mark, and never heard a knock on the door.

While we were cleaning up, she asked for a tip. She didn't get one, but might have if she hadn't asked for it, and hadn't pulled that pay-me-now stunt earlier.

It was a good, not a great, session. Monica aims to please, speaks some English, has a pretty nice body, and is generally cheerful, laughs and smiles a lot. She waited for me to finish getting dressed, held my hand as we walked back down the stairs, and gave me a goodbye kiss on the cheek as we parted. Rather than going back into AB, I kept moving right on down the street. I made the long trek back to the VdeZ on foot.

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I looked out the window of Ricardo's Restaurant near the VdeZ as I took my time finishing off a plate full of enchiladas, tacos and chile rellenos. Eating by yourself is no fun, but I was in a contemplative mood. Dusk was falling, and with it came the familiar anticipation that always goes along with nighttime in Tijuana. The city just seems more true to its character after dark. Mysterious, unpredictable, bright lights diverting your attention while strange twists and turns occur almost without you even realizing it.

This was my one evening in TJ this time around, and I knew I had to give it my best shot. I wanted to spend the bulk of my time back at AB, for reasons I'll get to in a minute. At the same time, I wanted to visit Chicago Club, and hit a few of those smaller bars that I never seem to have time for. In addition, my good buddy Billfromreading had encouraged me to visit Mexico Lindo, not far from the VdeZ. That was on my to-do list, as well. Pretty full agenda, and my budget allowed for one, maybe two, 30-minute sessions.

Back to the topic of the night shift at Adelitas. I thought back to that night two years ago, when I'd left AB for the final time. I'd given Elisa a farewell kiss in front of the curtains after a memorable 90-minute marathon session that remained etched in my mind during the interim. I'd had difficulty dealing with the emotional aftermath upon returning home. I'd had some contact with Elisa in the meantime, in the form of notes and small gifts delivered back and forth by that noted mail carrier and author, Billfromreading, on his subsequent visits to TJ. Elisa had taken the time to write me a very nice, long letter in Spanish. But all this had transpired over a year ago, and I had no idea whether I'd see Elisa on this evening. I'd seen references on the boards that she'd been spotted recently working at AB. And if she's in town, she's usually working the late hours. But on any given night, who knows?

I decided to assume that Elisa would not be present, to not get my hopes up, and to look in other directions. It was hard to do that, for sure. And if she appeared, I'd be pleasantly surprised.

Finally, the waiter brought my check. The food is great at Ricardo's, but the service is slow. Of course, the concept of Mexican Time is practiced. And actually, Mexican Time makes perfect sense to me. If only time really did move at a snail's pace while in TJ...

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I looked at my watch... it was 7:30. I took a deep breath, and parted those enchanted curtains. Adelitas was hopping, the night was in full swing, the Latin rhythms pounded out an aura of verdant sexuality. Chicas of all shapes, sizes and colors circulated through the swarm of potential patrons, while others just stood still, like bowling pins, waiting with the fervent hope that they'd be chosen and financially rewarded for the arduous task of rocking someone's world. In other words, business as usual.

Looking around, there still was not a familiar face to be found. I thought I knew a good number of the ladies at AB, at least by appearance. Had there been this much turnover? The rest of TJ had remained largely the same since my last visit.

And then, all that changed. A tall lady approached me, smiled and said "Hola, baby. I am..."

"...Angela," I interrupted. "I remember you." She looked at me quizzically, not recognizing me immediately. "I'm Elisa's friend," I told her. Her eyes flew open wide, and she gave me a warm hug.

"It's been so long," she replied. "We didn't think you were coming back."

"It's a long story," I told her. I offered to buy her a drink and sit down for a few minutes.

Suddenly, AB was exactly as I had remembered it. As long as Angela is there, trolling for newbies, AB will always be AB. The sun rises in the east, and the LA Clippers suck. Some things in life were meant to be constant.

It didn't take long for Angela to launch into her sales pitch. She worded it exactly the same way I'd remembered from a couple of years ago. ("wanna go on a honnymoon?") I had to fight to keep from smiling.

Now, I just love Angela to death. She's a great conversationalist, and maybe the best source of information at AB. Yes, she's persistent in hitting on newbies and anyone else she knows, but if you tell her no, she unfailingly accepts it graciously and with a smile. Whenever I'm in town, I'll be happy to buy her a drink or two, and sit down and shoot the shit. I don't think she'll ever be successful in dragging me upstairs. But like I said, she's one of the coolest and sweetest ladies at AB.

I finally got around to asking her the burning question, "Is Elisa here tonight?"

"She might be here later," Angela replied. "I'm not sure."

Angela sensed at that point that she was fighting a losing battle, so she gave up the chase. "If you don't see Elisa later," she told me, "come find me and I'll take care of you."

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A half hour or so later, I was still at AB, seemingly unable to tear myself away from the place. I was sitting on one of the stools near the upper bar. A cute young thing passed by, stopped and walked up to me. She placed her knee between both of mine and said, "Hola."

She was about 5'3" with a very exotic-looking dark complexion. She had on a black 2-piece dress that wasn't quite loose enough to hide the fact that she had nice and round, but not oversized, breasts. A black hat partially concealed her pretty dark brown hair. She smiled at me through piercing brown eyes and said in English, "Do you want to have fun upstairs?"

I looked her over. She was unquestionably cute. I wasn't ready to go up yet, so I asked her, "What's your name?"

"Andrea," she replied. (not her real name) She repeated her request to go upstairs. "Maybe later," I told her. I meant it... I found her beautiful and intriguing.

She leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "Muy romantico. Besos con lingua."

A few minutes later, I was still thinking of that offer. It's pretty well established that I'm a romantic guy. And I'd never had a chica say anything like that to me in the bar before. Never.

So, I'm sitting there lost in thought, and here comes Angela. "Are you ready for me yet?" she inquired. I just smiled. She took the hint, patted my knee and moved on.

I decided it was high time to get out of AB and check out other venues for a while. I moved toward the curtains, and was once again intercepted by the suddenly persistent Andrea. She squeezed my hand and purred, "Let's go."

I was tempted. I really was. But I remembered my limited funds, and didn't want to commit them this early in the evening. I gave her a kiss on the cheek, a gesture I routinely perform when I like a chica but am not ready or able to go up with her. She didn't have on a lot of makeup; the skin on her face was soft, moist and deliciously feminine. I could detect the faint essence of her perfume; her breath made my ear tingle ever so slightly.

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The night air still hung heavy and warm as I stepped out of Adelitas. I broke with a long-standing tradition, and made a left turn, heading westward along Coahuila. Like I said, time to explore new venues.

I entered Las Chevalas, and went in and sat down for a few. I didn't think it was half bad. Lots of chicas, although few were true lookers. Definitely a different atmosphere from AB and CC. The problem with a place like this is that I don't have the patience to sift through the ficheras and the non-ficheras. I sat and people-watched for about twenty minutes, then headed outside.

Near the intersection of Coahuila and Ninos Heroes, a guy started yelling at me in a loud, obnoxious manner. But it soon became apparent that he was just hawking some establishment. I asked for clarification, and he replied, "Beautiful ladies. Over there." He was pointing at the Kinkle Bar.

"There?" I said incredulously.

"Kinkle," he confirmed. The look I gave him certainly said everything I wanted to say, and then some.

I crossed the street and decided to check out Tropical. Trying to enter, I pawed at the curtain in a klutzy manner reminiscent of a teenage boy trying to find his way into his first vagina. Finally, I found the orifice, er, I mean opening, and in I went. Now, this place... I was quite unimpressed with. Yeah, I know, I shouldn't base my impression on only one quick visit. But on this night, it was fairly full, and it had the worst male-to-female ratio of any bar I've ever visited in TJ. There were only a handful of girls. I had no desire to stay there, so I left, passing a guy carrying a bucket full of potato chip bags on the way out.

The siren song of Adelita was playing in my brain once again. The melody is always apparent any time I'm in TJ. It grew louder and louder, until I could no longer fight it any more. And the words to the song were, "Muy romantico. Besos con lingua."

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My hand rested on Andrea's shoulder, near where her dress gave way to mocha-colored skin. I listened while she continued to tell me in passable English about the magic she could work upstairs. "You don't take care of me," she told me. "I take care of you."

She had me... but I wanted to tease her a little, to make the whole experience last just a little longer. I rolled my eyes skyward as if I was mulling things over.

She whispered in my ear, "Romantico." That word again.

It had taken me about ten minutes to hunt her down in the now-packed AB. And as a matter of fact, she found me before I found her.

She was clearly younger than my typical session partners at AB. But she had a quiet dignity about her. She smiled very sparingly... I found that both disconcerting and very sexy. Oh, she never gave off any vibes that indicated she was unhappy or terminally serious. Nor did I think she was shy. She just came across as somewhat reserved, and not all that demonstrative. Strangely, I liked that.

Finally, I decided to let her reel me in. "Let's go," I said, motioning upstairs.

"Now?" she said, actually seeming surprised at my apparent change of heart.

I responded by taking her hand, entwining my fingers with hers, and leading her toward the door. She followed willingly, although her facial expression didn't change much. My reserved little princess. But inside, I was smiling enough for the both of us.

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I was already undressed, sitting on the side of the bed in the dim light. Andrea had immediately flipped the lights off upon entering the room, leaving only the bathroom light on. I know most of you guys don't like it when a chica dims the lights. Me? I'm a strange bird. I like it. I think darkness adds to the ambience.

She asked to be paid up front; I complied. She handled it much better than Monica earlier. I watched her remove her black dress. She turned to face me, fully naked. Mmmm... those titties. Perfect. Firm and round, neither supersize nor tiny. Just right. And those full, protruding nipples, just waiting to be sucked.

She had grown even quieter. I couldn't tell at this point whether it was shyness or focused intensity. I'd soon find out.

I laid back on the bed, allowing her to get started in the manner in which she felt most comfortable. She oiled up her hand, leaned over and began to give me a hand job. Wow... nice. Very nice. Up and down the shaft, just brushing the head, in a slow rhythm, the way it's supposed to be done. Many women are utterly clueless when it comes to this particular act.

She brought her mouth down over my chest and kissed my nipple lightly, then began to suck on it. Another good sign... I'd never had a chica in TJ attempt this before. She began to bite down ever so gently. She looked up and said, "Does it hurt?" I replied, "No."

She thought I was telling her to stop, and began to pull away. I switched over to Spanish. "Mas," I told her. "Muy bueno."

She continued for a minute or so, then got up and looked at me. Spontaneously, I rose up and kissed her on the mouth. And that's when the floodgates opened.

By the time my head landed back on the bed, her mouth was ferociously assaulting mine. Momentarily stunned at the unleashed aggression, I nevertheless pressed my tongue against her teeth. She yielded, allowing my tongue to enter her mouth. Some of the most enthusiastic tongue wresting imaginable ensued, lasting several minutes.

I felt like my tongue was about to fall off. I pulled away, then moved downward toward her breast and its engorged nipple. I had a sense that my taking control of the action at this point might reap enormous dividends.

I looked Andrea in the face; she nodded in assent. I took her nipple into my mouth, giving it a few quick flicks with my worn-out tongue. "Ooooooh... que RICO!" she squealed loudly. I kept it up, and before long, she was thrashing around on the bed wildly. I didn't think I was solely responsible for bringing about that kind of reaction, and a quick glance southward confirmed it... she was vigorously fingering herself. That's when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt... I'd latched on to a winner.

I replaced her finger with my own, thrusting it in and out of her moist quim as she began to squeal and moan. I rose up from her breast, and readied my tired tongue for yet another sort of activity.

I moved downward, stopping at her navel long enough to give it a quick tongue flick, then put my head directly between her legs, her nicely trimmed bush staring me in the face. I ran my tongue up and down her labia. She was soaking wet. Every time I got close to her clit, she shuddered. As I began to alternate quick flicks of her clit with deep thrusts directly into the heart of her sex, she started to intersperse Spanish words and phrases in the midst of her moans. I wished I had studied my Spanish a little more, because among the Spanish utterances was a seemingly incongruous, "I'm so glad I met you."

Suddenly, she rolled over and grabbed a condom, ripping the wrapper open with her teeth. But she didn't put it on me yet. Motioning for me to roll over, she proceeded to administer a BBBJ. While her technique wasn't the greatest here, I can't fault her enthusiasm, and considering how this session had gone so far, it didn't really matter. She finally slapped on the rubber and got down on her hands and knees. "Doggy," she practically begged. "I like."

I like, too, I thought as I thrust in and out of her from behind. There was no way I could last long under these conditions. No way, and I yielded to my own passion within a minute or two. Right after that, we heard... a knock on the door. "Thirty minutes ALREADY?" she exclaimed in apparently sincere frustration.

"More time?" she asked me. What a friggin' great idea! I grabbed my jeans and pulled $11 out of the pocket. She ran to the door and yelled "Talachero!" down the hall.

After she paid the room guy, Andrea looked at me and asked, "For me also?" Well, I told myself, let's keep it real. In the midst of all this, maybe a little reminder of reality was warranted. I ripped all the remaining cash out of my pocket, as loose change clanged on the floor. I'll get it later, I thought. I quickly counted up the bills, and paid her for another thirty minutes. There went the rest of my money for the evening, it appeared... but at that point, I didn't care.

For the next few moments, it was mellow-out time. I lay down next to her on the bed and pressed my lips against hers. We lay motionless for a short while, not really kissing, but with our lips joined. Muy romantico, indeed. Her eyes were closed; I wondered what was going through her mind.

Suddenly, I gave her one of those Eskimo-style nose rubs. She opened her eyes, and slowly but surely, her mouth widened into a bright smile. There it was!

Andrea pressed her lips against mine again, but with much more intent. She wrapped her arms around me tightly, and wrapped her legs around my waist. Another smokin'-hot makeout session ensued. Eventually, she drew away, and said, with a twinkle in her eye, "Suck my pussy again."

Well, who was I to argue? I dove into her soft, wet muff and this time, she really went through the roof. She moaned and thrashed in a manner that would have done any porn star proud. She started pulling me gently by the hair, implying that she wanted me to move on top of her and enter her missionary-style. I complied, but decided to tease her a little and slow down the pace.

Looking deep into her eyes, I entered her very slowly and gradually, focusing on her facial expression. I watched her eyes narrow, her mouth draw up into a tight ring and her lashes flutter as I slid inside her. As I picked up the tempo, I leaned over and kissed her, and we tongue-wrestled some more while I thrust inside her. Soon, I found myself on my back, with her riding me cowgirl-style with all she had. The sound of her tush slapping against my pelvic area must have been audible outside the room. With about five minutes left in the hour, we were both too tired to continue.

Andrea took a good long time to get dressed and retouch her makeup. After I scooped up the loose coins I'd spilled onto the floor, I sat on the edge of the bed and just watched her in front of the mirror. She didn't say a whole lot. But when she was done, she put on her hat, gave another faint hint of a smile and smacked her lips at me.

I ended up paying the jism cleaner his tip with four of the quarters I'd picked up off the floor. I didn't have a single bill left in my pocket. Andrea and I walked down the stairs hand in hand. Inside the curtains, I gave her hand a quick squeeze, which she returned. And then we parted ways.

For once, I'm at a complete loss for words in trying to sum up that session. The only thing I can say is, DAMN!! From a purely sexual standpoint, it was easily the best session I've ever had in TJ.

I made one quick circuit around the bar, thinking I had to call it a night. And since I'd be leaving TJ early the following afternoon, I bid adieu to AB as I passed outside through the curtains.

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Back in my room at the VdeZ, I crashed onto the bed. Tired but not sleepy. My fatigue was partly a result of the wild ride with Andrea. But it was also due to the fact I'd made that long walk from the VdeZ to Adelitas, both ways, three times today.

I pulled up a chair in front of the table in the room, got out a small notebook I always bring with me on these trips, and began to jot down a few notes for this report. After a few minutes, I stopped. I realized that if the adventuring portion of this trip ended now, I'd have to consider it a success. But at the same time, it seemed... incomplete.

I got up from the chair, and opened my duffel bag. Inside was a stash of money. Not a lot, but enough so that I could seriously entertain a change in my plans. It was just past 11:00. The night was still young.

What was it that was bringing about this unsettled sensation, despite the fact that I'd just had my world rocked by Andrea less than an hour ago? Anyone who has read my earlier stories probably knows the answer. I hadn't seen Elisa.

I had been in AB, prior to going upstairs with Andrea, well past Elisa's usual starting time of 8 to 9:00. I hadn't seen her. After the session with Andrea, I'd made that circuit of the bar. Deep down inside, I knew the only reason I had done that was to search for Elisa. And I still hadn't seen her.

I chastised myself. I knew if I went back, I'd risk being disappointed. And even if I found her, what could I do about it? I didn't have the money on me for another session. And my sexual well had been completely drained by Andrea.

And on the other hand, I was also disappointed with myself for being such a cheapskate when budgeting money for this trip. It sure wouldn't have killed me to bring along another hundred bucks or so.

I went back and forth for a little while, evaluating the pros and cons, not sure what to do.

----------------------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later, I was charging up Revo like an angry bull zeroing in on a cape-waving matador. I dodged barkers, drunks and run-of-the-mill pedestrians. I was headed for AB, and nothing was gonna stop me.

If I didn't find Elisa, I reasoned, I'd grab Andrea, buy her a drink or two, and chat with her a little bit. We sure hadn't done much talking earlier. And if I couldn't find her, either, the bar was full of chicas who would be happy to collect a ficha or two. Or, I could pursue one of my favorite pastimes at AB, people-watching.

As I turned right off of 2nd onto Constitucion, several police cars with blaring sirens sped by. By the time I got to Articulo 123, about seven or eight had congregated near the west end of "ratero central". On the opposite site of the street, near Bar Taurino, two or three cops had some gringo pushed up against the wall, and were roughing him up pretty badly. A number of bystanders were watching the altercation in rapt fascination.

But I wasn't one of them; I had other things on my mind. I made the left turn on Coahuila and went back into AB. Didn't I just bid adieu to the place a short while ago? I think not!

Upon entering, I looked to the right, then to the left. Nothing familiar to be seen. I circled around by the upper bar, then back toward the men's room. I was startled when I heard a loud, high-pitched shriek. My peripheral vision picked up a blonde chica moving toward me. She threw her arms around me and exclaimed, "Mi amor!" I looked down and beheld the beaming face of... Elisa!

I had been thrown off by the blonde hair. On my earlier visits, and in my mind's eye for the past two years, she had always had dark brown hair. If she hadn't seen me first, I might have walked right on past her.

I stepped back and checked her out. She looked stunning. She had on a white pants suit, and the new blonde look suited her wonderfully.

I gave her another hug, and whispered in her ear, "I miss you." I was gushing, and I couldn't help it.

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I wasn't able to spend nearly as much time with Elisa as I would have liked. She is there to earn a living, and I respect that. We settled into one of the booths near the upper bar. I bought her two drinks, and in that time, we got pretty well caught up. I had a chance to unload the sad story of my prolonged joblessness, and the happier tale that I had found employment and had moved much closer to TJ. Mostly, she just listened.

I surprised myself by leveling with her about the fact that I had gone upstairs with someone else earlier in the evening. A session with Elisa was sadly not in the cards on this particular evening, though I definitely wanted it. That goes without saying. She took it all in stride, without a hint of jealousy or possessiveness, understanding my dilemma perfectly. I simply had no idea ahead of time whether I'd find her at AB that night, and I had to make do. And my opinion of her, already pretty damn high, leaped forward a couple more bounds.

She asked me where I was staying. "The Villa de Zaragoza," I replied.

"You walked that far to see if you could find me?" she said with a smile.

I nodded, and she rubbed her hand affectionately along the inside of my thigh. It was obvious that she was touched.

She ran her hand into my crotch to test my arousal, found it was substantial, and ran her tongue across her upper lip. "Next time, okay?" she told me. "When are you coming back?"

For the first time ever, I had a semi-definitive answer to that question. "June," I replied.

"I'll be here in June," came her response. And so, the saga continues...

A waiter came along, and pointed at Elisa's empty glass. I told Elisa, "I have to go now." She made a gesture to the waiter indicating that there would be no more drinks. And I swear, he looked positively stunned.

She got up to leave and go back to work. Before she mingled in with the crowd, she turned to give me a wink and a smile. I watched her disappear with the usual sense of deja vu.

Well, she did it to me again. Every time I go to TJ, Elisa manages to say or do something that touches me on a very personal level. I'd only spent fifteen or twenty minutes in her company this time, but she had kept her spotless record intact. She had reestablished her standing as the alpha and the omega of my TJ universe.

I've maintained a tradition of splitting from Adelitas immediately after saying goodbye to Elisa. And I got up with the full intent of continuing that tradition. But as I passed the booth immediately in front of the one in which I had been sitting with Elisa, I felt a hand grab mine, with soft fingers tickling my palm.

It was Andrea.

She, along with an amiga, had positioned themselves in this booth, in the closest possible proximity to where I had been sitting with Elisa. I hadn't seen Andrea there, for I had been way too preoccupied. I had no way of knowing how long she had been there, or whether her being in that particular booth was a deliberate move on her part. But, if I were a betting man...

I'll admit that I was totally stunned at Andrea's sudden appearance, and lost my cool a little bit. I leaned over to say something, but nothing came out. She filled the conversation void for me. "Let's go up to the hotel... again," she said.

Well, for a variety of reasons, that just wasn't gonna happen at this stage of the game. I turned down her request, and was perhaps a bit more blunt about it than I should have been. I don't think she was hurt as much as surprised. I didn't stick around; there was nothing to gain by doing so. I got out of Dodge before things got even weirder.

It's safe to say that my belated decision to come back to AB one more time gave a whole new spin to this TJ visit.

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Let's take a break from the chica soap opera; I have a TJ safety story that needs to be shared. On my way back to the VdeZ after bolting out of Adelitas that night, I was walking on Revo in the vicinity of Bambi and San Souci. It was past midnight, and that stretch of pavement was pretty deserted on a Sunday night. Suddenly, a tall, large framed "woman" (read: a TV) approached me, holding a bouquet of flowers, and appeared intent on handing them to me. Well, I'd been lucky enough to have read a few posts on the boards identifying this as a common pickpocket scam, so I was able to move quickly and dodge "her". I kept on walking right down the street. "But they're free!" "she" yelled at me as I sped away. Like that mattered.

Had I been pickpocketed, this "it" would have been quite disappointed. I had nothing on me but a few bucks, and a wallet that contained a couple of worthless phone cards and the one thing that would have caused problems for me if I had lost it, my driver's license. I experienced no safety issues at all in TJ during my prior visits. So I guess it took a close call to prevent me from sliding down the chute into complacency.

And, thanks go out to those who posted the info about this scam. You may have saved one victim.

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The following morning, after checking out of the VdeZ, I was walking leisurely up the east side of Revo, with my travel bag hanging from my shoulder. Not the frantic, hurried semi-sprint I'd been regularly engaging in over the past 24 hours, but a slow stroll. It mirrored the atmosphere along Revo in the morning hours. Shopkeepers were out sweeping the sidewalk, or putting their displays up, getting ready for a day of business. As I walked past, they would give me a smile or a nod. That's in stark contrast to later in the day, when all you get from the vendors is a frenetic sales pitch as they practically drag you by the arm inside the store to view their wares.

It was even hotter than the day before. I ducked into an Internet cafe for about an hour, where Bill received a long email detailing the strange twists and turns of the previous evening.

Finally, as the noon hour passed, I made my way over to the Mexicoach terminal. Back to the good ol' USA, my flight home, and the uptight, professional, mundane world where I spend 99.5% of my living, breathing existence.

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The most remarkable thing I observed during my visit, I think, was how little TJ had changed in two years. Other than the cosmetic facelift along Coahuila, and those new Taxi Libres I saw all over the place, everything was exactly as I had left it. After some initial concern about chica turnover at Adelitas, I saw enough familiar faces to take me back in time. TJ is TJ, and though some might justifiably feel it doesn't compare to other destinations worldwide... well, it's still TJ.

It's amazing how much more accessible TJ is for me, given my new place of residence. The trip doesn't take anywhere near as much out of me. I hope to be a much more frequent visitor to TJ for as long as I'm in these parts, which is still undetermined.

Regrets? Yeah, I have a couple things that are gnawing at me just a little. "Elisa"... what more can I say about her that I haven't said already? I don't want to go off on a mawkish, sentimental tangent again. Suffice to say that when I come back to TJ in a couple of months, I'll see to it that a large block of time gets set aside just for her.

And as for "Andrea"... trying to recapture the magic of that incredible session is another item on my agenda. For the first time in my TJ existence, I have a good, solid number two fave. Hopefully, in a couple of months she'll have forgotten about the way I inadvertently blew her off.

I'm not complaining, though. I made it back to TJ after two long years. I got to see Elisa again, and I met a new chica who gave me the ride of a lifetime... so far. That's pretty damn awesome.

In the two years I've been lurking around here, this is, without question, one of the best trip reports ever. The perfect blend of travelogue, sentiment, and graphic detail. I hope you have many more adventures of such intensity and complexity. Many thanks. Dripper

Drippy Farsider is a well missed reporter. Glad to see you back Farsider.
Awesome report as always
I guess no more Echo conventions for you

See you sometime soon
Milksider

Farsider,

So good to have you back. You got to me again!
Looking forward to seeing you some time!Do you have a date in June yet? Would love to catch up with you.

Sandy Who wants to be there!

Forward To Farsider Post. . . .

Data, instruction, advice, cautions, emotions, expectations, lust - all words that seem to appear in the countless posts by the members of this board. At no time before did one single post incorporate not just all of the words but all of the feelings and emotions of the thrill that is Tijuana, Mexico.

Thoughtfully written and carefully crafted, this post will create a visual imagary that exercises at will the skills of writing and storytelling. Never will the TJ experience become so transparent and real with almost complete sensory perception in a written form until now.

The delight of the Latina is expressed with a balance of lust, honor and compassion that we should all practice and preach. The study of these amazing women is one of life's true pleasures. They are most certainly delightful creatures.

If you've never been to TJ, this is as close as it gets. The sights, the sounds, falling in love every 5 minutes or so and getting your heart broken a few times along the way are par for the course in TJ. The stuff about their big smiles and their big tits well that's all true too.

Now I can't remember the last time I said "There?" incredulously. But when I read stuff like "Suddenly, I felt a hand in my crotch." well, now it feels like the same place I've come to know and love.

Read the post yourself and be taken on a guided tour of this place. Meet the people. You'll be glad you did. You'll be back for more.

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Thanks for a beautifully written post. I truly appreciate it and I've actually downloaded the text so I can read it again later.

What about some artwork? Someone out there can draw these scenes in charchol or pencil. Let's have it.

Country John.

Glad you had a good time. I just got back from TJ too. I just wanted a little weekend getaway. It was nice to hook up with Sterling from this board. Great guy. I won't post a report because nothing too major to report. TJ is what it is. Quick and easy place to go. Surprisingly one of the nights I didn't even go to the clubs. I walked around the city all day/night and ate in some neighborhood restaurants and just talked to some of the locals.

I even walked all the way up to that giant Mexican flag. I was curious what is up there. There is some sort of military office up there. There is also a big park up there. Probably not the safest area to walk alone at night but I had no problems anywhere I went.

Hey Guy,

Great writing as usual, it's good to see that your long absence has not affected your writing style. And from reading the content the long absence hasn't seemed to adversely affected your performance in any other area either.

You do realize that this report cries out for a sequel right? June, 2nd or 3rd weekend..... I'll take the notes this time.

Bill... does this mean we'll finally have the chance to prove we aren't the same person? Bag open, cat out.

Dripper... the "complexity" part is what gets me sometimes. Thanks!

Milky... I've handed the title of Echo Director over to Senor Bill.

Sandy... unless plans change, June it is. I probably won't firm up the exact dates for a while..

CJ... great forward post... see reply to your post over on the Mexico board.

Godfather... I've never been in the area of that Mexican flag. I don't know if that's a bad area at night or not.

Great report, as always. Thanks for sharing.

More kudos from this quarter. I can't read that much on a computer screen so I invested 8 sheets of inkjet paper (2 pages printed to a sheet) and plenty of toner to enable a retro-read. It was worth it.

Farsider I will say that if it works out that your job security and closer access to TJ gives you the ability to come to TJ with more regularity, your experiences will gradually become much more complicated...and your trip reports will paradoxically become much more compact. You appear to be a terrific guy with a very vulnerable heart. Be careful...be VERY careful!

Hope to meet up with you some day in TJ!

We can do this. . . .

No fucking way on another two years wait for a new Farsider post. C'mon guys.

If farsider can't make the June trip for $$ reasons, I'll pledge $25.00 right fucking now towards his return visit. Any other doners care to help make this happen? $Big Money?, $10.00? $5.00? $1.00? I'll set up the paypal account or Farsider might already have one.

Hey Farsider, what kind of money are we talking about? Let us know. When you are on your feet, you can buy us a beer.

Anyone else want more from this talent?

You see, we waste money on mindless dribble all day long at the fucking bookstores and news stands, starbucks, McDonalds whatever.

Airport bookstore shelves are stocked with mindless dribble. They are expensive. It would be a treat to turn a few of these posts in to "MongerNovels." (Trademark, Copyright, Patent Pending). It would be great to reward someone who deserves it for a change.

Seriously though, artists produce their work for us to enjoy and Farsider is an Artist for sure.
Why not give back.

BTW, anybody out there know a sketch artist good in pencil/charcol that can do the scenes on the last Farsider post? I'll do the paste up and turn this into something very very cool, a PDF Monger MiniNovel (Trademark, Copyright, Patent Pending). Even the chicas would love it. Let's give something back.

How about it? I don't want to see any "Why not pay for me?" posts here, you know what I am talking about so no flaming OK?

If Farsiders posts turn to shit we'll just get our money back somehow! Somehow I doubt this will happen though.

Country John

(Message edited by Countryjohn on April 07, 2004)