Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke in KL’s Bukit Bintang is pulsing energy like a madhouse and gorging hot funky music on its outside sidewalk.
Mummy Lulu dives into the Platinum Karaoke Room with Chow Kah and Hussein following two steps behind. Her broad frame is wrapped by a tight red midi dress, ending at her bare knobbly knees.
Inside sit a sorority of sex kittens on a velvet sofa; Wati is leaning against one wall; Jessica is slouched on an armchair. Jessica’s long tortilla-coloured hair falls down her shoulders in a mass of perfect waves. In the depths of her half-lidded eyes—framed by long, black lashes—lurk oceans of sex appeal. Her full carmine lips set off high cheekbones and she radiates an air of relaxed elegance.
Wati’s shapely legs start with black heels and disappear under a pair of faux leather bikini bottom. A cross-stringed bustier is moulded to her round delicious breasts, dipping at the cleavage and exposing her smooth shoulders. A slash of apple-red lipstick bisects her slender face and eyes the rich brown colour of Guinness Stout look at Mummy Lulu and her regular duo.
“These are my new hostesses,” announces Mummy Lulu, sweeping a gnarled hand with a flourish over the four lasses. “Three from Vietnam, one from Indonesia.” She winks at Chow Kah standing beside her, and crinkles form at the corner of her eye. “How about trying a new dish tonight?” Then, she flits her gaze at Hussein. “You, Hussein? The Indonesian? Last girl in the row.”
Her voice sounds like that of a throat-cancer patient.
Chow Kah looks away from Mummy Lulu. “I’m not interested.” His gaze swallows Jessica with masculine warmth. “It’s Jessica for me, as usual.” Jessica’s expression does not change, as if aware that she would always be picked by Chow Kah.
“Maybe next time.” Hussein holds a paper bag aloft. “I came to give Wati a birthday present tonight.” He takes a side step from Mummy Lulu to create a walking space to the door.
Mummy Lulu claps her hands, hollers “Alright, out, girls,” and the four hotties trot out on kitten heels, platform heels and flats. A babe has her eyes clouded with frustration; another zags her mouth down in disappointment; a third has the vestiges of a smile lingering on her lips and the Indonesian dame purses her bee-stung lips to suppress her feelings. Mummy Lulu allows the door to slam behind her and Chow Kah and Hussein sidle up to separate sofas, and Jessica and Wati join them.
Hussein’s face lights up the moment Wati plants a dainty hand on his knee.
“Happy birthday, darling,” he says and takes out a box from the paper bag on his lap.Wati opens the box and then a shade of dark invades her cheeks. “Don’t ever buy these Black Hands Chocolates for me! I hate them!”
Sitting opposite Wati across the coffee table, Jessica and Chow Kah jerk upright in surprise.
“What’s wrong, Wati?” Jessica asks.
Hussein places gentle palms on Wati’s shoulders to protest. “Hey, these Black Hands Chocolates are not cheap, darling, made in Belgium.”
“I know!” Wati clambers on the sofa, kneels and glares at Hussein. “These products are an insult to the people of Congo. They’re a celebration of the rule of King Leopold II over Congo. This motherfucker imposed a horrific policy on his rubber plantation workers. Any worker who could not meet his production quota would have his hand cut off. A unit from the army carried out the king’s order. And they frequently carried baskets of chopped hands to show to the commander. It happened in the 19th century.”
Jessica almost jumps off her seat, her eyes widening in shock. “Shit! How cruel!” She brushes curls from her forehead and sucks an inhale to regain her erstwhile composure, her exhale wheezing like an angel’s whisper.
“Anyway,” Chow Kah says, waving a hand, “giving chocolates to a woman is an excellent idea.” His slit-like eyes twinkle with mischief. “Know why? Simply, because chocolates improve female sexual health.”
Jessica cocks her head sideways. “Proof?”
“Dr Andrea Salonia, an associate professor of the Università Vita Salute San Raffaele in Italy has published a paper in the Journal of Sexual Medicine. The conclusion of his research was that women who frequently ate chocolate had higher levels of desire, arousal, and sexual satisfaction.”
Wati steps back into last night’s episode with her sugar daddy. Oh sheesh, I know that already. Last night, Datuk Latiff and I consumed a big box of dark chocolates after dinner. Then we made love. The delicious sensation started deep within me, near the head of his huge prick as it ripped through the folds of my pussy, through my clitoris, through my ass; almost tearing up through my chest, making my pussy muscles seize and clench, seize and clench—near countless times—and I ground my hips into his with all the force I could muster.Then the tension inside my body shattered like a grenade exploding, sending waves of utmost pleasure from my clit and ending with electric jolts to my fingertips and the bottoms of my toes.
Wati blinks, curly eyelashes groping in the air. Her sensations of her love-making gets too strong for comfort. Hussein’s hands on her lap feel like third-degree burns. She seizes the present by the tail and drags it into her mind. She puts the box of Black Hands Chocolates in the centre of the coffee table.
“Please help yourselves, guys,” she says, “but I’m not eating them.”
Chow Kah pops a chocolate into his mouth. “You can get sex chocolates, too.” He chews with horsey teeth and adds, “Whoa! Black Hands is full of flavour.”
“Sex chocolates?” Hussein sits up straight, surprise curling his lips. “Which store? I must buy them for my fourth wife!”
Chow Kah angles to face Hussein. “Amazon Singapore. But not sure whether they can deliver to Malaysia.”
The door swings open and hot air gushes into the room. Mummy Lulu ambles in on wedges shoes, warm hospitality etched into every wrinkle of her craggy face. “Tonight’s snack is on the house.” She puts a silver platter of chocolates beside the cardboard box of Black Hands, her next words packing a wallop. “Sex chocolates from Singapore.”
“Eeek!” Jessica’s luscious lips pull into a cross between a grin and a scowl.
Hussein shimmies to the edge of his seat. “How did you get them?” A grin spills over his coffee-coloured face, fiery excitement burning in his eyes. “They couriered to you?”“Nope, they delivered to my Singapore relative and I carried them in my suitcase across the Causeway—two dozen boxes!” Mummy Lulu drops her hands at her sides, a hint of dirty pride flirting on her creased lips. “Three nights ago, I had a fantastic time with my toyboy after we’d stuffed our faces with two boxes of these goodies.”
Wati leans towards the coffee table, exposing the beginnings of her ample bosom, and picks up a chocolate with her varnish-tipped forefinger and thumb. “Let’s try these sex chocolates!” Her sugary voice edges to shrill with excitement. I'm gonna phone Datuk Latiff to come over tonight after work!
/end
