(Note: I've changed the names of two girls in this story. One, "Elisa", is the same lady from my first trip report. The second is a very minor player in this story, and I've changed her name for a different reason. Otherwise, all names are real names.)


Saturday, 8/11/01 (evening)

I looked out the window of the descending airplane, and saw the San Diego skyline racing past. I checked my watch as the plane touched down. 8:08pm… 13 minutes late. Damn! I was in a hurry, for I had heard what the Zona was like on a Saturday night.

I picked up some time at the baggage claim when my single checked bag was one of the first to appear. Onto the shuttle, and over to the rental car pickup. An older couple in front of me in the line engaged in some idle banter with the agent. "We're staying in San Diego tonight, and then spending the day shopping in Tijuana tomorrow," they told her. Move it, folks! I thought, for I wanted to get down there TONIGHT, and it wasn't shopping that I had in mind.

I drove around the downtown area for a bit, trying to stumble my way onto I-5 South. Finally, in a roundabout way, I found it. I turned on the radio, and started flipping stations. I actually caught myself listening to Celine Dion warbling, "if you touch me like this, if you hold me like that, it was so long ago, but it's all coming back to me now." I killed that one off by hitting the Scan button. Sorry, Celine, but that one hits a little too close to home.

A few more pushes of the Scan button, and I found "Beginnings" by Chicago. I love the instrumentals in that song. And of course, there's that segue into Latin percussion at the end. By the time I pulled into the parking lot at the Motel 6 in Chula Vista, I was tuned into a Latin station.

In the hotel room, I threw my bags on the bed, and showered and changed clothes quickly. I divvied up my cash into my money belt and various pockets. Luckily, I had remembered to bring a slew of ones and fives. Twenty bucks went inside my sock, in case the cops decided to give me a hard time.

Back out onto the road I went, heading south toward the border. It was a hazy August evening, but before too long, I saw the lights of TJ rising up ahead of me. And was that ever a sight for sore eyes.

I recalled how, four months earlier, I had watched those lights fade away in my rear view mirror. I honestly believed at the time that I would never see them again. But if you want something badly enough, you find a way to make it happen. And I had done that.

And as much as I tried to avoid doing so, I found myself thinking about the chica whom I had spent the bulk of my time with, on my prior visit. Would she be there? Thanks to a last-minute tip I had received from a board member, I had good reason to believe that she would be. Would she remember me? I put those questions out of my mind, for come what may, I was determined to have a good time.

In the lot at World Parking, under those garish sodium lamps, I saw groups of young, well-dressed Americans of both genders heading toward the border gate, obviously headed for various TJ nightspots. I hadn't seen this before; this was my first clue that things were just a little bit different on Saturday night.

My second clue came at the taxi stand across the border. I approached the cabbies and said, "Adelitas, cinco dolares?" No takers. The best response I got was, "siete." Not in a mood to haggle, I took that offer and got in the cab.

The cab driver was a quiet and grumpy sort. No matter; I looked out the window as he drove, still marveling at the fact I had made it this far. He pulled up across the street from AB, and I stepped out into the utter chaos that is the Zona Norte on a Saturday night. My chest tightened as I saw the inviting black curtains of AB. What lay beyond them… something familiar, or something new?

Initially, what lay beyond them was… HEAT. Sweltering, oppressive mid-August heat. And hordes of people, and unfortunately, too many of them were male. I looked toward the upper bar, for that is where I habitually headed during my first visit. But a mass of humanity blocked all access to the upper area. So I turned right and headed back in the general direction of Hottie Central. It was even more crowded there.

I re-traced my steps, fought my way through the crowd and eventually found myself behind the upper bar where I could breathe a little. I made my way toward the back. Near the passage to the men's room, I saw a small chica, wearing a red halter top and white pants, passing in the opposite direction a few feet to my right. Before my brain kicked in, I watched her go past. Then I realized, THAT'S HER!

Frantically, I swung around toward the front of the bar, hoping to intercept her at the other end. Miraculously, that area had cleared somewhat. I got there first, and stopped and waited, to see if she would recognize me. About ten feet away from me, she caught my gaze. A big smile lit up her face, a huge embrace resulted, and at that moment, all was right in my world.

I pulled away for a minute, quickly looked her over from head to toe, and everywhere in between. Yep… she was still the same girl I remembered. "You came back," she said in her delightfully accented English, "to see me?" Wow. She had started things off with the most difficult question imaginable. I deferred it until later, replying, "Long story." If she only knew how long…

But Elisa was already rubbing up against me, winking and licking her lips. "Let's go," she said. Normally, I like to slowly ease into going upstairs, but I understood the situation. This was Saturday night, her big money night, and she wanted to get things rolling.

So I took her hand and we started for the door. She stopped me for a minute, and whispered in my ear, "One hour?" Music to my ears…I nodded. Then, it was out through the curtains, and up the stairway to heaven.

We entered the room, with Elisa clutching two towels under her arm, and it was even hotter than downstairs. I was sweating up a storm. We got undressed, and I lay down on the bed. She rubbed me down with one of the towels, to remove the sweat. Then, as one might expect, we spent much of the next hour getting re-acquainted. With the heat, the fact that it was Saturday night, and with me being worn out from the long trip, I don't think either one of us was at our best that night. It wasn't until the 45-minute mark or so when I finally popped.

But the main obstacle during that session was… the knocks. Oh, those knocks. The first one came before the 30-minute mark, which caused Elisa to yell out, "Hora!" The second one came just a few minutes after that. The third (!) knock came as we were just starting to get dressed. We washed up quickly. Elisa opened the door and found the room cleaner standing outside the door, impatiently waiting for us to leave. She stepped out into the hall, and her Latina temper emerged. She directed a few choice Spanish epithets in his direction, with hand histrionics for good measure. He ignored her; he was already eyeing the dollar bill that I foolishly was clutching in my hand.

His attitude totally pissed me off, and I'm an easygoing sort. I crumbled the dollar bill up into a ball, then casually tossed it back into the room. My only regret is that it didn't land on the spent condom.

But all was quickly forgotten. After dodging a few more requests of "teep my fren" on the way down, I asked Elisa if she'd like a drink or two. She smiled and nodded.

There was no place to sit in the bar, so we stood next to each other with my arm around her, and got all caught up. I told her that I would be at AB the following two evenings. She assured me that she would be working both nights. Which, of course, allowed me to set my agenda.

After a couple of drinks, she told me that she needed to get back to work, which I understood. An hour in the room and two unrushed drinks; you can't ask for more on a Saturday night. So I bid her "buenos noches" and told her I would see her the following evening.

It was still fairly early, but I had had enough of the inside of AB at that point. I went outside, and enjoyed the cool night air. I joined the peanut gallery in front of AB, and watched the girls go up and down the stairs. I enjoy doing this every now and then; it's a good way to mellow out after a session.

At that point, I elected to head across the street and check out CC. It was moderately crowded over there, but nothing like AB. There was plenty of room to move about. There was a floor show going on, with hip-hop music blaring from the speakers, so I watched for a bit.

During that entire evening at AB and CC, not one chica approached me. On Saturdays, it appears as if they all have more attention than they can handle. If you're the non-aggressive type who likes to have the girls come to you, that's yet another reason to avoid Saturdays.

It was around 12:30 or so, which, of course, is 3:30am Eastern time. I was beat. I left the club and walked toward the cabs in front of CC, where I got another Saturday surprise. I said "cinco" and held up five fingers to the guys who were directing me toward the cabs. One guy nodded, and held the door open for me. The driver entered from the street side, drove off, and started saying, "seis." I had no choice, so I reluctantly forked over the six bucks at the border taxi stand.

As I walked over the curved pedestrian bridge on this hazy August night, I passed by a couple of older ladies holding out boxes and offering to sell me "cheec-lets." A rising, reddish last-quarter moon gave an eerie effect to this whole setting. I thought to myself, this place is surreal enough on its own. It doesn't need Mother Nature tossing in her own special effects.

Back in my hotel room, I was a happy camper as I drifted off to sleep. Most of the difficulties I had encountered were minor Saturday night annoyances. The bottom line was, I had made it back, and everything was just as I had left it.


Sunday, 8/12/01 (afternoon)

Throughout this visit, I would experiment with different means of transportation. On this particular morning, even though I had a rental car, I decided to eliminate the border parking fee, and saved a few bucks by taking the trolley. Once in San Ysidro, I boarded one of those $1.25 buses that take you into the downtown area. It dropped me off at the bus station on Articulo 123, one block east of Revo. I was a little disoriented upon disembarking, but I just followed the crowds, most of whom were headed for the tourist traps on Revo.

There was a lot of unsightly construction at the intersection of 123 and Revo that wasn't there on my prior visit. I turned left onto Revo, then right on 2nd, then right on Constitucion. I descended the hill, and perhaps "descended" is no idle word here. I walked in the street, looking around nervously, for traversing this particular area was a first for me. I looked over at the ubiquitous squadron of street girls. A few looked back at me, but most just stared off impassively into the distance.

I would make this walk a few more times during my visit. I feel comfortable doing it during the day, but wouldn't want to try it unaccompanied at night.

I turned left on Coahuila, and entered AB. I stood near the doorway for a few seconds before heading into the inner reaches of the bar. I find that this is the best way to allow my eyes to adjust.

I sat at the upper bar, and looked around. Now, THIS was the AB I remembered! Sunday afternoons are very enjoyable. Lots of chicas were there already, and not too many guys.

I looked at my watch; it was 12:45. I had a simple, all-or-nothing strategy for this afternoon. I decided to just hang out for a while. If I did a session this afternoon, it would be with a chica whom I knew was reliable. I had my mental list compiled and ready to go. And if nothing came my way this afternoon, well, I knew I'd run into Elisa tonight.

So I continued to sit and watch. I find people-watching at AB to be a fascinating pastime. The more you do it, the more you pick up on the subtle little interactions that make the Zona a truly unique environment.

Nearly an hour had passed by when I realized that I still had not been approached by a chica. Was it my deodorant? But finally, a lady with somewhat unruly black hair, above average in height, and rather plainly attired in a blue top and jeans, came up and greeted me. "You wan a girlfren, bay-bee?" she said. Still in my people-watching mode, I politely declined, although there was something about her that I liked. She was attractive, but not in an obvious way. She replied, "Okay," then told me her name. I couldn't hear her that well; I thought she said, "Toni."

She moved on, and my eyes started to wander again. I looked across the bar, and standing off at the end of the booths on the other side I saw a lady whom I immediately identified as Candi. She's unmistakable; with her distinct look and preferred location in the bar, you can't miss her.

Some may dispute this, but I think Candi is beautiful. On this day, she was wearing a short pink sundress, and it was obvious that under that somewhat conservative attire lay a nicely toned body. She has a look that defines mature, understated sensuality.

I decided to approach her. But on my way across the bar, I was once again accosted by "Toni". "I neeeed a boooyfren," she said in a whiny, somewhat high-pitched voice. My attention was elsewhere, however, so I just smiled and declined once again.

Meanwhile, another tall, attractive, dark-haired chica passed by, and handed what appeared to be water ice to Candi. The two of them chatted briefly. I decided to bide my time and took a seat at the bar, not too far from where they were standing. Eventually, Candi's amiga moved on. I decided to let Candi finish her water ice.

I glanced over into the back section, where "Toni" was sitting with a couple of guys. Suddenly, I happened to notice… what was that? She was wearing a fanny pack! I felt like banging my head down on the bar.

I couldn't believe it. I had misheard her name! I had been approached by the famous Tanya, not once but twice… and had turned her down both times. Damn. DAMN!

Then I turned and saw Candi and a fellow monger, headed toward the exit, with Candi still holding the water ice. Lesson learned: at AB, don't just sit around waiting for something to happen. Oh, well, at least I wouldn't have to make a Candi-or-Tanya decision. Meanwhile, Tanya had left the two guys she was with, and had walked over to the upper bar. She was sitting by herself at the end, facing the wall.

Candi was gone; now I was hoping that Tanya believed in the three-strikes-and-you're-out theory, which meant that I had one strike left. I walked over to the upper bar. A little intimidated, and not wanting to be too obvious, I took a seat two stools away from her and faced straight ahead toward the stage. A minute or two passed, and I just had to look. Tanya had moved over into the adjacent stool and was smiling at me. That was my first indication as to just how perceptive this woman is. She knew exactly what I was up to.

"It's hot," she said, "isn't it?"

I agreed. Not as hot as the previous evening, but plenty warm enough.

Then came the question I was expecting. "What's your sign?"

"Gemini," I replied.

"Gemini," she repeated. "You're a child." She smiled that impish, girly smile of hers, with her eyes narrowed upward into crescent moons. Not a light-up-the-room kind of smile, but one that stays on your mind for a long time.

To me, Tanya is better looking than she's given credit for. She certainly wouldn't stand out in a crowd, but she has a look that's all her own. I think the fanny pack is overrated as an identification feature. If she's facing you, you won't notice it, as I discovered. And on one day that I was there, she wasn't wearing it at all. I think her most distinctive feature is that long, frizzy black hair which few if any other girls at AB have. She doesn't wear much makeup, except for mascara and lip gloss. I personally find her body very appealing; there may be an extra pound or two in there, but that's a plus for me.

After a brief conversation, Tanya drew in close, put her arm around me and gave me a kiss on the lips. Up till now, lip kissing had not been part of my Zona experience, and the suddenness of it surprised me. She pressed up against me while I was sitting there on the bar stool, and we wound up locked in an embrace with my cheek pressed up against hers. I would find out later that her sex goddess reputation is well deserved, but she has a sweet side as well.

We retreated to a booth, where I listened a bit to her philosophy on life. To say she's fascinating is an understatement. There was no pressure from her to buy drinks or go upstairs; none at all. Finally, I mentioned that perhaps, maybe it might be a good idea to think about heading up to the room. "What do you like?" she asked. I love having options, but I asked her, "What do you suggest?" She replied, "Anything you like." I couldn't wait to find out what she meant by that, so I motioned that we head for the door.

We ended up with one of the rooms way up on top, and walked down that corridor that is open to the air. We entered the room, and Tanya closed the door. I had been reading about this lady for as long as I've been following these boards, and now, I was in her lair.

She produced two things from her purse. First was one of those small battery-operated, hand-held fans, which she turned on and pointed toward the pillow. It wasn't too hot in the room, but it was a nice touch anyway. Second was a bottle of oil. "In case you like a massage," she smiled.

Before I knew it, we were on the bed, making out. With her reputation as a BBBJ queen, I wanted to keep the frenching to a minimum, however. Eventually, she headed south and treated me to those legendary oral skills of hers. (She asks if you want to wear a condom for the BJ, so if you do, it's not a problem.) She displayed a marvelous array of techniques, and nearly got me off that way. But I wanted to experience her full repertoire, so I held out. She's outstanding in the oral department, no doubt about it… but I enjoyed what came next even better.

Then it was time for intercourse, and here, in my opinion, is where she really shines. We tried all the usual positions, varying the pace from fast and furious to slow and deep. She talks dirty with the best of them. "Fok me, fok me HARD, baby!" She switched into a new position that I had never tried before. Sort of a modified reverse cowgirl, with her leaning forward, clamping down on my shins with her hands to provide leverage, and doing all the work. That did it, and I popped. That position provides the perfect angle, and there's something about her pressing down on my legs that does it for me.

We rested up for a few minutes, and then Tanya wanted to keep going. Wow! I managed to get erect again, but that second nut proved elusive, which isn't surprising. We wound up in missionary position, and I was trying to bear down and concentrate, and something about the look on my face amused her. She started to laugh, and laughter is contagious. Picture two people, coupled together in missionary position, screwing each other's brains out and laughing their heads off at the same time. I collapsed on top of her, and she repeated, "Gemini... you're a child."

Finally, the knock came; I was worn out but very happy. We got dressed. She never mentioned money, either downstairs in the room. I merely paid her, she thanked me and that was that. Total session time: in the 50-55 minute range, and I had only asked for 30.

I've noticed that when you are with Tanya, the knocks seem to come slower and the waiters bother you less. She appears to command extra respect from everyone.

We walked slowly down the stairs. Not an I-need-to-get-back-to-the-bar rush, but a nice slow walk that enabled me to chat with her a bit. "You didn't get a massage," she reminded me. "Maybe tomorrow?" I asked. She nodded.

She sat with me in the bar for a good 20 minutes afterward. There was a floor show going on, and we just sat there and took it in. She rested her head on my shoulder, I leaned my head against hers and we sat there like a couple of teenagers watching a drive-in movie in a parked car.

A chica was onstage, performing to Madonna's "Like A Virgin." Tanya seems to have this endearing habit of humming softly to herself during quiet moments, and I thought I caught her humming the melody to that song. I stifled a chuckle.

Finally, I realized I had to get moving, for I had an obligation north of the border and I wanted to grab a bite to eat first. Tanya promised me a massage the next afternoon, I told her I would be there, and I left the bar.

I was walking on air as I headed over toward Revo. Not only had I just danced with a legend, I had a date with her tomorrow... and one with a different lady tonight. Is this the life, or what?

For my post-coital snack, I downed three tacos at Maria Candelaria on Revo near 3rd, then caught the Mexicoach bus ($1) to the border. I would be back for more fun in a few hours.

and to think I caught an early flight out of San Deigo Sunday morning because I didn't sunday afternoon would be memorable in TJ.