AB was hopping as I parted the curtains. A dancer, naked from the waist up, was standing off the side of the center stage as one guy slipped a few bills into her bikini bottom. She offered him a breast, and allowed him to briefly take it into his mouth.

I paid only scant attention, for I had something else on my mind, and it was Elisa. I circled the bar, expecting her to come out of the woodwork, as she always does, and give me one of her big I-miss-you hugs. I made one more circuit, just in case.

No Elisa.

Standing at the top of the upper bar, not far from the men's room, I stopped and plotted my next move. This was unheard of. Elisa's presence during the late night hours was something I'd come to take for granted. But now...

Nearby, two chicas were having a lively conversation, which distracted me briefly. I looked over at the two ladies. And when I saw one of them, my entire agenda for the evening became instantly altered.

I'd seen her before, many times. She had beautiful caramel-colored skin. A killer toned body. Long honey-brown hair. And her signature feature... librarian-style wire-rimmed glasses. Evelyn, my all-time number one obsession in TJ.

I had a long, unfulfilled history with Evelyn. I'd first noticed her way back when, during my very first visit to AB, over three years ago. Right away, she caught my eye. I rely on an intangible vibe when evaluating chicas, and Evelyn just oozed with that vibe. I'd seen her afterwards, practically every time I went to AB during the late evening hours. I'd exchanged glances with her on a number of occasions. Once, I'd had her in my sights, and another guy appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her before I could. I'd found out later that he was a fellow board member, and later, he and I periodically joked about it via email. Evelyn was tantalizingly ever-present, but perpetually just out of my reach.

Her reserved and quiet demeanor made her even more intriguing. I'd actually spoken briefly with Evelyn on one occasion, but I'd just come back down from a session. Probably the biggest barrier to my getting together with her, though, was the fact that she and Elisa worked nearly identical hours. And like I said before, Elisa was usually there, and always had my undivided attention when she was.

But now was different. I'd been trying to come to grips with Elisa not being around. Right now, Evelyn was here, and available. For the first time ever, our two worlds were in perfect alignment. And at AB, it's the here and now that matters. What was I waiting for?

Evelyn was still chatting with her amiga, so I sat down in a booth and tried to catch her eye. Bad move. Baaaad move. Out of nowhere materialized Marisela, the blonde I'd brushed aside that afternoon. I couldn't believe she was still here. She plopped down next to me in the booth and asked if I'd buy her a drink. Like magic, a waiter appeared.

I had to ditch her, pronto. I waved the waiter away. I told Marisela, "Not now. I just came back down from the hotel." A little white lie to save the day.

She looked briefly disappointed, then smiled and said, "Next time then." Relieved, I got up. I saw Evelyn's friend still standing in the same spot, but where was Evelyn? Damn! She was gone.

I was positive another guy had grabbed her and whisked her upstairs. I cursed my foul luck. I decided that the best thing to do was hang out and wait for her to come back downstairs.

I leisurely made my way around the bar; it was quite busy for a Sunday night. I camped out in the Hottie Central vicinity, so I'd have a good view of all who entered and exited. I turned around, and lo and behold, spotted Evelyn standing on the back dance floor, talking with a guy.

I'd never seen her in this part of the bar before. Apparently, she'd merely decided to plant herself in a new locale.

I sat down at the main bar, on the final stool leading to the back. This gave me a great view of the goings-on back on the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Evelyn's interactions with the guy, to see if he'd strike out or hit a home run. A waiter went up to them and, I assume, tried to get him to buy her a drink. He waved the mesero away. Strike one.

They just stood there and talked for a few minutes. He put his arm on her shoulder, in a gesture that suggested, "I have to go, I'll see you later." Strike two. Like a hawk beginning to swoop in on its prey, I stood up and casually moved in that general direction.

A minute or two passed, and the dude finally bid goodbye to Evelyn and moved on. Strike three! I moved closer to Evelyn and looked directly at her. The only thing separating us was an empty booth.

Evelyn plopped down into that empty booth. Then she gazed up at me, smiled and patted the space next to her, an explicit suggestion that I join her. As if she had to encourage me. I sat down next to her, and finally, the fantasy merged with reality.

"I am Evelyn," she said.

"I know," I replied. "Do you know how long I've been watching you?"

She flashed a smile; her English comprehension was good enough that she knew exactly what I was talking about. A waiter approached us. Evelyn ordered a strawberry margarita, I my usual Coke.

I finally had a chance to view her from close up. Given the fact that I don't usually associate with the young bombshells, Evelyn is definitely the best-looking woman I've been with in the Zona, at least to me. The biggest and most pleasant surprise, though, was her personality. Between her broken but adequate English and my barbaric but improving-at-a-snail's-pace Spanish, we managed to communicate quite well. I found her to be very much on my level in many ways. She's not a bubbly type, but she's a good conversationalist and just a total sweetheart. In fact, she's one I wouldn't mind getting together with outside the bar.

She nursed her drink along very slowly, which I appreciated. I had my arm around her, and let my hand wander down to the exposed skin above the top of her pants. I slid my index finger into her navel. She sighed and let her head rest on my shoulder, then put her arm around me and pressed her cheek against mine. Now, it should be pointed out that I also wear glasses. There was quite a bit of metal-on-metal contact, which drew laughter from both of us.

I leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Rarely am I that aggressive with a chica downstairs in the bar. But it seemed like the right thing to do. She kissed me back, one thing led to another, and for the second time this evening, I was sitting in the bar liplocked with a chica.

No sooner had she finished her drink than a waiter pounced on us. It was getting to be time to take matters upstairs, though, and I whispered words to that effect in her ear. She waved the waiter away, slipped her hand into mine and off we went. Arriba!

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

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay
against your skin so brown
and I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight
with a billion stars all around....

'Cause I got a peaceful easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standin' on the ground.

And I found out a long time ago
what a woman can do to your soul
Ah, but she can't take you anyway
you don't already know how to go....

And I got a peaceful easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standin' on the ground.

I get this feelin' I may know you
as a lover and a friend
but this voice keeps whispering in my other ear
tells me I may never see you again...

"Peaceful Easy Feeling", The Eagles


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Yet another surprise awaited me upstairs. She removed her glasses. She looks very different without them. Ironically, it was those glasses that set her apart from the rest and attracted me to her, but when they come off, man, is she ever gorgeous. You can perhaps see the slightest hint of her age (mid-30's) in her face from close up, but for me, that's a plus, not a minus.

We got undressed; her unclothed body is indeed a sight to behold. She handled that sometimes awkward money exchange very well. No direct amount was ever discussed; I handed her the usual amount and that was that. She didn't try to hit me up for more, nor did she ask for more than the "going rate".

In describing this session, the one word that will appear over and over is "kissing". Evelyn is definitely an expert in the art of smooch. No DFK, but very nice, tender and passionate, nonetheless. I lay down on the bed, and she scooted up next to me. I decided to take the approach that I'd just lean back, relax, and let her show me what she had.

She leaned in and placed a series of soft kisses on my lips, drawing back in a teasing manner after each one, looking at me with searing-hot bedroom eyes and uttering a few sultry words in Spanish between kisses. Gradually, she yielded to the building tension and a rather torrid makeout session ensued. I finally got the chance to run my hands all over that hot naked body of hers. After a few minutes, she pulled away and put a condom on my now rather engorged member. She leaned over and went to work on me orally for a few minutes. When that ran it course, she got on top in cowgirl position and rode me for a short while. Doggy came next, and then missionary. Once again, this was the position that did it for me. It allowed me to lean in and resume kissing her while I thrust in and out. It wasn't long before I popped. Afterwards, I just lay on top of her, my dying member still inside her, while we smooched some more.

She pulled away for a moment. "One hour," she said. "Please?"

I thought it over... it was tempting, it really was. But I'd gotten into a horizontal mindset this time, a real switch for me, and I wanted to ensure I had the financial clout for one more session tomorrow. I had to decline, but I promised I'd give her an hour next time.

The knock on the door came; Evelyn told him to go away. We got up and started to get dressed; Evelyn smiled and pointed out that I had quite a bit of her lipstick to remove from my face. She pulled off a wad of toilet paper and handed it to me. "You look like joto," she laughed.

I went over to the sink and looked in the mirror; she was right. I washed up and got dressed. Evelyn came over and looked at me, shaking her head in disapproval. "No. There's more," she said. I hadn't passed her facial inspection. Apparently it takes a woman's eye to see the last traces of lipstick.

So she took some more toilet paper, and spent the next few minutes painstakingly wiping not just my lips, but my chin, my cheeks and my forehead as well. "There," she said, before leaning in and giving me one more kiss, and following it with one last wipe.

She was still retouching her makeup, and told me I could go back downstairs if I liked, without waiting for her. I didn't want to look like a doofus just sitting there watching her put on makeup, so I got up to leave. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a big hug. "One hour next time, okay?" she said. She'll definitely get it from me.

What can I say? Evelyn was all I expected and more. This was one of those rare cases where the reality was better than the fantasy. My nighttime repeat list is getting rather crowded, but Evelyn is right there at the front of it.

I stayed down in the bar only long enough to check one last time for Elisa. I didn't find her. That's it, I told myself... I missed her this trip. Not wanting to dwell on that for too long, I departed the premises.

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

[Elisa and I] snuggled up and engaged in some small talk. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Veronica. She stopped and positioned herself about fifteen feet to our left. I grew uneasy. Directly in front of us was a chica whom I had been checking out for a good part of this visit. I saw her several times during my last TJ trip as well, though I've never been given an opportunity to approach her. I had, however, exchanged glances with her on a number of occasions. She was Evelyn, a dark-skinned hottie with gorgeous curly brown hair, a killer body and glasses. I grew more uneasy; these chicas seem to know exactly how to position themselves to obtain the most dramatic effect. Or, perhaps I was just being paranoid. Eventually, Veronica sought out a different place in the bar. Evelyn paired up with a guy, and they departed the premises. She seems to go upstairs as often as any girl in AB. I breathed easier. My full attention returned to Elisa, and stayed there. A few minutes later, we headed upstairs for what would be the defining session of my second TJ visit.

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The above is an excerpt from a trip report that I wrote way back in August of 2001. The foreshadowing is eerie. At that time, I'd been trying to concentrate on Elisa, and the familiar eye candy around me was proving to be a distraction. I'd just done a session with Veronica earlier that day, and had been ogling Evelyn. I wanted nothing more than for both of them to vanish, lest I be accused of wandering-eye syndrome. Now, a few years later, in Elisa's first-time-ever absence, those same two ladies had seemingly appeared out of the blue, and unknowingly conspired between them to ensure that I was well taken care of anyhow. And they both did a magnificent job. No, I don't believe in any of that karma stuff. But it's truly a bizarre coincidence.

Perhaps Elisa was on vacation, or maybe she just took the night off. Or maybe she was working, but otherwise occupied while I was in the bar. I'll admit now, that when I look back on this trip, it does seem to kind of have a big hole in the middle of it. But I proved to myself, once and for all, that I could have a helluva good time in TJ in Elisa's absence. And I'm sure that most of you who have read my previous stories would agree that this realization was the most positive thing to come out of this trip.

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

Before heading back to the hotel, I spent perhaps a half hour down in Las Chavelas. Know what? I'm starting to like this place. I'm not sure how good I'd be at doing the ficha-dance thing, because I'm just about the worst dancer in the world. I'm the whitest white boy who ever whited. But I saw quite a few cuties. It's just a question of whether my ever-expanding agenda will allow me to find the time.

After the earlier taxi fiasco, I decided to walk back to the VZ, despite the fact that it was now 1:30 in the morning. I stopped on Revo to hit up one of those hamburger carts. Believe it or not, this was the first time I had ever gotten anything from the food carts, and I now see what I was missing. Those burgers are cholesterol-laden food from the gods. A thin beef patty with cheese and a slice of ham, topped with onions, tomato and jalapenos, all on a toasted bun. Mouth-wateringly delicious, and you apparently don't need to worry about Montezuma's Revenge.

I turned in for the night, knowing that I had a good part of the day on Monday to work with, unlike my previous visit.

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

Desperado...
Why don't you come to your senses
You been out ridin' fences
For so long now...

Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow...

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
She'll beat you if she's able
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet
Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones that you can't get...

-"Desperado", The Eagles

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Mid-morning in TJ. If the city has a downtime, this is it. Even Revo is somewhat subdued. I headed up in the direction of the Gigante store on Revo, to pick up that haul of canned Mexican foods and other non-perishables, purchased at bargain prices, that I always carry back with me from these trips. I passed a few early tourists, and a number of shopkeepers just setting up for the day. There was no point visiting the Zona yet, for this is its downtime, as well.

I often wonder what the long-term effects of the mongering lifestyle are, and how it affects one's view of interpersonal relationships. Like many of you, I prefer to keep the details of my personal life off the boards, but let me just make a cryptic remark. The title of this report is as appropriate for my "real life" as it is for my TJ life. The Zona Norte, with its increased accessibility, is a resource that is very valuable to me at this stage of the game.

I've had a lot of relationship-connected heartache in my lifetime. Despite that, I still truly believe that the optimal situation is a one-on-one arrangement with a special individual. Oh, maybe not at a given point in time, perhaps. Like, for me, the present. But in the long run, yes. And I know damn well the chances of finding that in La Zona Norte are infinitesimally small. Yes, I admittedly had a little trouble on that point early on in my TJ life, but I think that finally, once and for all, that truism has been hammered into my thick skull. So why am I so drawn to this place?

The Zona Norte is a first-class means of escape, but it's nothing like real life. Guilt-free, limitless, no-strings-attached sex, with the only true variable being money. The highs and lows involved seem to have a net dilutive effect, they all run together after a while, and the overall result is that one becomes jaded and cynical about relationships with women. I'm not at that point yet, thankfully, and I hope I never get there. And actually, I'm grateful that my access to TJ is still limited. If I lived close by, I could see the place swallowing me up and spitting me out.

Desperado, indeed.

This concludes the self-evaluation part of this trip report. Back to our regularly scheduled program.

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

I checked out of the VZ right before the nominal check-out time of 1:00. I had a fairly full duffel bag with me, and I set out for the Zona with it hanging from my shoulder. It's already been pointed out to me that I could have left it there in the VZ office for a few hours. Had I done that, this afternoon might have turned out a lot different.

I planned to spend my remaining time at AB. I hoped Candi would be there, for I have yet to be able to catch her at a good time. If not, I figured Angela would be in attendance. I'd buy her the usual drink or two, and who knows, if the fancy struck me, I'd let her sink her teeth into me this time.

Upon entering AB, I immediately realized how much of an encumbrance that travel bag would be. It hindered my movements through the sometimes narrow passageways that, even at this off-hour, were lined with chicas and a few mongers. I normally like to roam freely around the bar, but I gave up and sat on one of the long benches near the men's room, putting the bag down next to me.

Well, the predictable happened. An older chica wedged herself in next to me. And when I say "wedged", I wasn't kidding. It was pretty apparent that the black dress she was wearing was stuffed to the max with cellulite and excess lipid tissue. Oh, she wasn't morbidly obese, by any means. But to put her in the "gordita" category wouldn't have been a stretch. She greeted me with that phrase that seems to be a standard opening line among the Sisterhood of Super-size Sharks: "Joo wan company, bay-bee?"

I looked at her, and I'll admit that I inwardly cringed at first. She wasn't coyote-ugly, perhaps; a more appropriate, not to mention gentle, term might have been "homely". She wore very little makeup, no jewelry, and her long blonde hair, though clean and fresh-smelling, hung plain and unstyled. If I had the chance to line up all the girls in the bar at the time, and rank them from top to bottom looks-wise, she'd be in the bottom half definitely, and quite possibly the bottom third.

"Do you want to go to the room?" she asked, as one might expect. She tried to encourage me by exposing one pendulous breast.

"No. I need to leave soon," I lied.

And of course, a mesero immediately appeared. I waved him away, then looked at her. "It's okay," she said, then stared away, apparently deep in reverie. Wow, I thought. She's content to just sit with me, with no compensation whatsoever? A little voice began to speak, from deep inside my subconscious...

Still, I scrambled to come up with a reason to leave. But I wasn't quick enough. She reached her hand into my crotch, then swung her large leg over across both of mine. She took my hand and placed it on the inside of her thigh.

So, let's set the scene here. I'm sitting on a bench with this decidedly unattractive, overweight woman. She's got her leg in my lap, her hand on my balls, and she's looking at me with these big googly-eyes. And I'm saying to myself, "Farsider, how do you get yourself into these situations?"

She repeated her offer to go upstairs. "Twenty dollars," she added. Normally, I'm loath to reveal any monetary amounts discussed with chicas, but I'll make an exception here.

I wasn't sure I heard right. "Twenty? Veinte?"

"Veinte," she replied.

I couldn't believe the thoughts that were running through my head. She continued to absent-mindedly stroke my crotch area. I got the impression that she was doing it not to seduce me into going upstairs, but because it seemed to be the most natural thing to do at that point in time.

And then I became aware of something else. Mr. Johnson was beginning to spring to life. Listen to your big head and not your little one, I implored myself. This can't be happening. But a knowing smile crossed her face, and I knew I was screwed.

I thought it over a little more. I told myself, here is a lady, one who probably doesn't get a whole lot of business and would most likely be thrilled to be chosen. She's probably motivated to perform, and is offering me a ridiculously low price. And it's not like there were many other options in the bar at present. Candi was not there, nor was Angela, and the selection was sparse on this Monday afternoon.

I then did the unthinkable. I leaned in and gave her a kiss. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Patricia," she smiled.

She wrapped her arms around me and practically smothered me. I'll spare the gory details, but I can honestly say I've never before made out in public with three different women in a 24-hour period.

There was no use fighting it any more. "Vamanos," I said, and we got up.

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

Q. Why is a fat chick like a moped?

A. You'd like to ride one, but you wouldn't want your friends to see you doing it.

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

I looked around nervously as we left the bar. God, what was I doing? I hoped that none of the few board members I'd met in person were in attendance.

Upstairs at the check-in desk, Patricia took my half-filled glass of Coke, and poured it into a disposable plastic cup. Then it was off to the room.

Inside, I started to get undressed, but she stopped me. She wanted to undress me, which is the first time I've ever experienced this in the Zona. I've mongered in Montreal, and the French-Canadian gals all like to do this. But in TJ? Never.

So, Patricia stripped me from head to toe. She even bent down and untied my shoes for me. After she was done, she took each article of clothing, folded it neatly, and placed it on the shelf next to the bed. She put my shoes together, side-by-side and slid them under the bed.

I could have sworn she was auditioning to be my wife, or something like that.

She then slipped out of her dress, and also folded it, putting it on top of my clothes. I looked at her naked form; I had been expecting worse, to be honest. There was a moderate-sized roll of fat around her midsection. Her breasts sagged just a little bit, but I've seen worse.

She spread the towel out on the bed, and motioned for me to lie back. More kissing ensued... she was far from the best I've experienced in this area, especially compared to Evelyn the previous night. Nonetheless, I was inexplicably as hard as a rock, which she gleefully realized when she grabbed for my member.

It's amazing how fickle, and situation-dependent, the human sex drive is.

On went the condom, and she got on top in cowgirl position. This gave me a rather unpleasant visual of cellulite jiggling about, however, so I requested a switch to doggy. Much better. But she pulled away, begging for the privilege of administering a BJ.

I lay on my back once again; she positioned herself next to me. She approached my member in a manner reminiscent of a cat approaching a tub of water. I briefly wondered if she had ever performed oral sex on a man before. Her first licks and sucks were tentative. But she picked it up. And picked it up some more. And then she got some hand action going, as well. Before long, she was voraciously devouring me. The suction she provided was unbelievable... I've never experienced anything like it. And I shot my load right into the condom. I hardly ever am able to ejaculate via the oral route; Patricia is the second woman in my entire lifetime to accomplish that feat (the other being Elisa). The famous Tanya couldn't even do it.

Patricia then wanted me to go down on her; I drew the line there. Instead, I lay next to her and stimulated her manually for awhile. She got up, wanting to briefly visit the bathroom. While she was gone, I took thirty dollars out of my wallet and placed it on the shelf, under her dress.

She returned and we snuggled for a while. "You have many chicas?" she asked me, pointing in the direction of downstairs.

I just laughed. "A few," I deadpanned. I didn't like the way this conversation was headed.

"You have sweetie? Novia?" she asked.

I didn't answer that question, especially when she started pointing at herself with imploring eyes. I quickly changed the subject, and asked her about her hometown and other less touchy topics.

We heard the knock on the door, but she made no motion to get up. She grabbed my dying erection instead, asking if she could suck some more. I knew that there was no more left in the well, so I declined, but hell, it was sure nice of her to offer.

About five more minutes passed, and she got up and went over to her purse. She came over, sat down next to me and showed me a picture of her child.

Yes, I'll admit it... I was touched.

She went to put on her dress and found the thirty dollars. She appeared to count it more than once, as if she couldn't believe it. "For me?" she inquired.

I nodded, and it was readily apparent that I'd made her day.

Well, I'd done it. I'd dabbled in sampling the affections of a "weighty lady", and lived to tell about it. We walked back downstairs. After passing the desk, she got a few steps ahead of me. Near the curtains at the entrance to the bar, I grabbed her arm and said, "Goodbye." She hadn't expected to see me there, and looked astonished... either at the fact that I'd actually walked downstairs with her, or that I wanted to say goodbye. I kissed her on the cheek, said "Thanks", and then headed over to Revo to grab a late lunch.

Sometimes, your little head is right and your big head is wrong.

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

Are you gonna take me home tonight?
Oh down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out?
Fat bottomed girls
You make the rockin' world go round...

-"Fat Bottomed Girls", Queen

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

It was around 4:00 when I boarded the Mexicoach bus on my way back to the border. Another trip in the history books, one that allowed me to expand my horizons a little bit. For the first time, admittedly out of necessity, I adopted a horizontal mindset, and I enjoyed it. Hey, I even ventured into territory I never imagined I would, on that particular Monday afternoon. That's not to say I won't revert back to my old vertically-oriented ways next time, but for this one trip, it was good to see how the other side works.

See y'all in a couple of months!

Another excellent chapter in the growing chronicles of the Farsider sojournes to the zona. No mention of pressure to buy drinks for the girls. There were posts that talked about lurkers being 86'd from the place. But then again, they probably know you.

Keep 'em coming man. I almost feel like I made the trip with you.

Country John