I had lunch at Kokomo's and then went back to the hotel for a nap. That nap was interrupted by a text from Porker inviting me out to lunch at Kokomo’s. Although I had just eaten, I agreed to return and had dessert with Porker and his girlfriend. On my last trip, I had purchased “Three Nights in August” a book that follows the St. Louis Cardinals during a three-day series with the Chicago Cubs. It was a good read and I gave it to Porker after I was finished knowing he is a baseball nut. At lunch, Porker returned the favor by giving me “Moneyball.”

After our lunch, I went back to the hotel and started to read. If you like baseball, “Moneyball” is a must read. I found myself engrossed in the book and before I knew it, it was almost dark and I was about half-way finished. As I was about to head out for the night, Porker texted again and we decided to meet up at the Byrd Cage. By this time in the trip, Porker was almost over his viral infection, but now had come down with what was later diagnosed as tendinitis in his foot. It made walking extremely difficult for him, so we decided to stay in the general vicinity on our tour. We hit several bars: Atlantis (too stale), Champagne (too crowded), Dirty Duck (no good lookers), Cambodia (dead except for one hottie) and finally Nero's.

After a little while, Porker and his girl decided to call it a night – I think the term bed-hopping was actually used – and I went out on my own to find a girl. Remember, by this time I hadn’t busted a nut for two days and I was feeling the need.

First, I went back to Cambodia to check on the little hottie that we had seen earlier. However, when I got there someone else had beaten me to the punch. I drank one beer to scope out the remaining talent and left continuing on my search. There was a lot more bar hopping involved. I hit Gecko's, Camelot, Brown Sugar, Paradise, and La Pasha searching for Ms. Right Now. But apparently, I had baby batter on the brain. I was WAY too picky finding fault with every girl I saw. There was only one cure for this – Santos Street!

The only bad thing about going to Santos Street this time of the night (it was past 2 in the morning) is running the billyboy gauntlet to get to the bars. I am not sure if there is a more hideous creature than the PI billyboy. I’m sure there is, but I haven’t seen it yet in my lifetime. Probably the most fascinating thing about these creatures is there is A LOT of them. I mean they have to have some customers to stay in business. I’m not one to pass judgment on other people’s perversions most of the time, but if this is one of yours PLEASE get some help. Yuck!

After running the gauntlet, I scoped out the talent at Shadow Bar as Bud had mentioned there being a couple of hotties there. Apparently, they had already been rented and nothing really stood out. I headed back up the street and stopped at Heaven Bar as they had the cutest girls. (Remember, that cute is a relative term when used on Santos Street. In this case it mean slim, decent tits and a face that wouldn’t make me puke.)

Arlene sidled up to me and I immediately began groping her while watching the 3 AM street scene. It was a scene almost straight out of a Felini movie. There were billyboys looking for their next score, Santos girls playing badminton in the street, and bargirls strolling down the street heading home after closing time. Only in Angeles can you watch all this while drinking a San Mig Light and trying to stick your thumb up a bar girls ass. Pure pleasure.

Eventually I remember why I was there and told Arlene that I was very malibog and needed relief. She quickly agreed to my two-pop proposal for short-time and we headed back to my hotel. Once there, Arlene lived up to the Santos Street reputation of being a first-class knob gobbler. It was easy for me to forget that she wasn’t the best looking girl in the world as I could only see a mass of black hair bobbing up and down in my groin. After finishing, we headed to the shower where she performed what I thought was the impossible – getting me off a second time with her mouth. Arlene was obviously a dedicated craftsman who had studied at the feet of a master.

But more importantly, my dry-spell was over. After she left, I went to bed and slept the sleep of the dead.