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RonJax2

Strip Club Connoisseur

"Señor Arturrrrrro!" I exclaimed as I hopped into the front seat of the cab.

I was fucking high, in the intoxicated sense as we'd just smoked big fat gallo californiano. But figuratively too. That evening, I'd had amazing sex, followed by an elegant and satisfying dinner, and was excited about heading to a new bar with my wingman @ZBott and his chica Julia in tow. Not to mention, my own date Nena was looking fucking amazing. Her perky spinner boobs were nearly popping out of her top as she jumped energetically into the backseat of the car with a big smile. Knowing we still had a late night hot tub session to look forward to, I was beyond stoked, almost manic.

Buckling in, I turned to Arturo and belted out "Señor, ¿¡Cómo lave usted!?" / Sir, how might you wash yourself!?

Thankfully, Nena was right there to rescue me, interjecting, "Jaja, quería decir '¿Cómo le va usted?'" / Haha, he meant to say 'Sir, how's it going for you?'

"Ay, exactamente, cómo LE VA usted," I said, much more carefully this time, chuckling and shaking my head.

Arturo, laughing good-naturedly at my gringo ass, responded, "Todo bien esta noche. ¿Adónde vamos?" / All good tonight. Where are we headed?



##### TLN OTC in the Zona Norte #####

Normally, I'm a "variety is the spice of life" type of monger. One VIP room with a stripper is enough and I'm ready to move on to the next. I've done OTCs in both the US and Tijuana, but never twice with the same lady. Nena is exceedingly special though, full of positivity and smiles, continuously organizing things to maximize fun, and amazing in the bedroom.

The morning after this OTC, wingman @Zbott and I were having lunch at Azul, and met another friendly monger who was asking about our adventures. We'd explained that we'd both gotten to TJ the night before, but had stayed outside the Zona for OTC dates. He was visibly impressed, offering "So, shit, you guys know what you are doing." Any seasoned monger will tell you that OTC is how you dial in a trip to Tijuana.

The OTC possibilities of the Zona Norte are something the TJ veterans of TUSCL really turned me on to. Folks like @PAFBABS, @PutaTester and others, who spend as much or more time doing OTCs with CFs than in the clubs themselves, have been for some time on TUSCL imparting their TJ OTC wisdom on me. And over several visits to the Tijuana, I've come to truly enjoy spending time with chicas out of the club in the Zona Norte. Of the ways to long-time a chica in the Zona, OTC for TLN (Toda La Noche / All Night) is hands down the most fun and cheapest by the hour.

👉 Read more about other ways to long-time a Zona bar girl here: https://tuscl.net/discussion/86696

This article is the story of one such OTC encounter with my ATF, Nena, en una noche jodidamente cañón (one fucking lit night!)

For those who will inevitably reject it in the queue with the reason "Not an article - should be a club review", please note only thing this article has to do with the club is that I met Nena at a club (Hong Kong TJ) 6 months ago. The point of this article is to tell a fun mongering story about an OTC adventure. I'll also sprinkle this article with a few TJ OTC 👉Protips, which might be of use to those still getting to know the ways of OTC in the Zona Norte.




##### Setting Up the Date #####

👉 A WhatsApp connected to a burner number is essential to building a rolodex of chicas for OTC in Tijuana. See this thread for info on setting up WhatsApp with a burner number: https://tuscl.net/discussion/86707

I'd gotten Nena's Whats this summer after an epic afternoon and evening at Hong Kong and Hotel Rizo. To make it to OTC status, there's quite a gauntlet to run. First there's the ficha test. A bar girl might look amazing but might be a dud ficha. No besos, no arriba, is my general rule. Then, for me, it's usually a spin in the VIP room. Can she tease, grind and lap dance as well or better than an American stripper? If so, it's arriba time. Does she do BBBJ? DFK? Something crazy I've never seen a chica do before? Is she wild enough that I'm left wondering: what would happen next time? If so, I'm tipping her well and asking for her WhatsApp. This summer, Nena passed all these tests.

(Astute readers of my past reviews will surely notice that I've broken these rules in the past, but that's why they exist today. I'm still very much an "intermediate" at all things Zona, still learning from prior mistakes.)

There's also the question of what a chica is like out of bed. Does she drink? Does she drink too much? Does she enjoy a toke, as this monger does? Is he vapid, or fun to talk to? Does she speak English, or if not, is she patient with my own clumsy attempts to communicate in Spanish?

After the party and personality factors, there's the hardest hurdle for chicas to get over: not being a needy or psycho on Whats. Some chicas will give you their number and tell you they'd love to meet OTC, only to in turn offer sob stories and requests for money. One chica I met tried calling me like a dozen times as I was crossing the border back into the US. There's a reason you want your Whats account to be a burner.

👉 Crazy or Needy chicas, even the ones who were amazing on arriba, you have to block or leave on read. It's an agonizing moment to ignore a chica who was amazing in bed, but it's part of the OTC game. (A tip of the hat to @PAFBABs for gently guiding me to see this fundamental truth in the case of a former CF.)

Nena was nothing but sweet over Whats, occasionally sending cute (but not explicit) photos and often syrupy messages with cheesy chica emojis. It was easy and fun to setup the date with her. After I'd texted her the date I was thinking for my upcoming trip, she got back to me quickly, enthusiastically confirming it would work. "¡Estoy contando los días!" she promised me. / I am counting the days!

👉 If you're planning a multi-day trip to Tijuana, an interesting dilemma is whether to meet an OTC prospect before or after you stay in the Zona Norte. I would contend: it depends on the chica. If she parties harder than you, prefer her on the first day you arrive, when you'll have the most energy. If she rides in a slower gear, she might suit you better on your final day.

I asked Nena about 420 friendly hotel rooms, as Ticuan's strict no smoking policy had cramped our style last OTC TLN. Nena suggested the Hotel Quartz, specifically the Garden Double room, which offered a private balcony with a jacuzzi. The room was pricey, over $400, which is insane for Tijuana. I booked it anyway, trusting Nena's judgement. I had also done my own research, and the truth is, finding jacuzzi rooms in Tijuana is difficult, and it's downright impossible to find 420 friendly rooms outside the Zona Norte. With the jacuzzi on the balcony, and imagining the two of us naked and smoking a fat joint in it, I pulled the trigger. YOLO.



##### Hotel Quartz #####

The Quartz is modern and well appointed, like a brand new boutique hotel in any major US city. It's in the Zona Río, near Hotel & Casino Pueblo Amigo, and very close to the border, less than a kilometer away from the PedEast turnstile exit.

Check-in, unfortunately, was really slow. Going into the elegant lobby I was greeted with a small line of other gringos who appeared to be there for a professional event.

I made it to the Quartz around 5:45 on Thursday night, a little later than Nena and I had planned to meet due to traffic and flight delays. Rather than meeting me right as I arrived, Nena waited until I was checked in, showered, and unpacked before she ordered a cab, forcing me to face a rather agonizing 45 minute wait her to arrive. Name a more iconic duo than chicas and making you wait. I took the opportunity to get properly stoned and then to understand the various modern switches in the room like the fancy controls for the lights and blinds.

The room was as advertised and they even sent a telechero to fill and warm the tub just after I checked in. Given the $400 price point, I'm luke warm on whether I'd stay there again. Similar rooms without the balcony go for like $140 at the Quartz, which is still expensive for Tijuana. Next time, it would probably be worth giving up either the 420-ness or the jacuzzi, for which there would be rooms elsewhere at a fraction of the cost.

👉 Pueblo Amigo, Ticuán, and Lucerna are all good alternatives for hotels outside the Zona Norte.



##### Un Bonito Vestido Verde #####

I met Nena on the curb as her taxi pulled up, and she jumped out and immediately gave me a huge smile and a kiss. I know in my bones that Nena is in it for the money, but damn, every time I see this chica she convinces me that she's genuinely excited to spend time together.

She arrived looking absolutely splendid and sexy. She had on a long, cute green dress with a slit in it that came up almost to her waist, showing off her shapely thin legs as she walked. The dress and the small puffy coat she wore still showed off part of her slim midriff. It was sultry, but not completely unrefined. She had on heels that sparkled as she walked. She looked hot, "anda bailando" as they would say in Mexico. (Walking around as though she were dancing.)

At check-in the hotel had insisted that Nena had to show her ID when she came in. After exchanging some pleasantries, I'd explained this to her on the way up the escalator to the lobby, but said, "Dudo que sea necesario," / I doubt that it's necessary.

"No hay pedo, mi amor" / No problem, my love, she responded. As we walked into the lobby, I showed them my key card with the room number, and she offered her ID, which they copied. I would have preferred not to have checked her in at all, but at least the hotel lobby didn't disclose my ID to Nena.

Her late arrival presented a dilemma for us. She had a dinner reservation scheduled at 7:30, which was quickly approaching, but there was business to take care of first. "¿Quieres que llame y posponga la reserva?" / Do you want me to call and postpone the reservation?, she'd asked with a sultry grin, laughing as she popped up her index fingers behind her head, like devil's horns.

"Definitivamente!" I shot back excitedly. She called the restaurant right away, buying us an extra 30 minutes. We couldn't push dinner back much further than that, as I had a wingman to meet.

So, Nena and I got down to business. She had me slowly pull off the parts of her dress, which was actually two pieces, a top and a bottom, tied together in two spots.

We did some playful groping, I explored everywhere and of course there was plenty of DFK, which is Nena's specialty. Honestly, I could go on for hours making out with this chica, she's that much fun, however, we were a little bit in a time crunch in this particular moment.

She got me undressed, and then went down on me, where she continued to show off supreme oral skills. One my favorite tricks she has is to partially deepthroat my cock, and then jack off the base. And also, she's absolutely ace at just deepthroating the whole thing. She gargled on my cock for a while, expertly massaging my balls as she did, and it was glorious.

After quite a bit of that she pointed to the condoms on the nightstand. "¿Los quieres?" / Want one?

"Siiiiiii," I replied.

Nena did one of my favorite stripper moves, and put the condom on with her mouth. "¡A Huevo, bien hecho!" I said. / Fuck yeah, well done.

She hopped on top of me to ride me cowgirl, moaning softly as she slowly slid me inside her. "Oh, estás buena", I said softly. / Oh, you're hot.

We fucked cabalgando for a while, while we kissed, or I played with her perky tits.

I flipped her over (spinners rule), and went to town missionary, eventually pushing her knees back towards the bed, which she submissively complied with. After a bit of that she was moaning loudly and I was ready to nut. Yet I didn't want to waste this first nut of the trip in a bag.

"Quiero una paja, Nenacita," I told her, pulling out, and lying back down on my back. / I want a handjob, little Nena

She gave me a quick peck on the lips as she started rolling off the condom. "De verdad, ¿Una paja?" she said, eyeballing me with a raised eyebrow as she rolled the condom off.

She wasn't having any of the handjob shit, and went back to town with more deepthroat.

Quite soon, I was at the brink, coming buckets in her throat, then her mouth. The first of the weekend, it was a huge load. Some of it she swallowed, some of it she slurped back up off my dick after it had slid out of her mouth. It is an marvelous image I'll have burned into my subconsciousness the rest of my life.

She massaged my junk as my johnson slowly deflated, and an enjoyable finish to a triumphant start of the weekend. "Ay, me gustas Nena. Me das los mejores orgasmos," I told her. / Hey, you please me Nena. You give me the best orgasms.

She giggled as she hopped up to clean off. Yet she was back in a flash from the bathroom with tissues for me to wipe up with, a thoughtful gesture. Then she was off to the bathroom again for a quick rinse before dinner, leaving me to ponder the events ahead as I waited to shower. Ahead for the night was a fancy dinner, drinks with mi compa @ZBott and his chica, and of course, some time later with Nena in that jacuzzi.

Before we rushed off to dinner, I took a moment to pay her for the night. In all of our text exchanges, she hadn't mentioned payment once, and so I gave her the same amount I'd given her last time, $800. Other mongers will rightfully point out that escorts will offer TLN OTC services for much less, even in the $350-$500 range for 10-12 hours. I probably could pay less, but for a 3 pop, 16 hour bender with a chica who rides at the perfect speed, I feel like $800 is one of the best deals of my mongering career.

I particularly enjoy that Nena stays overnight, unlike some of my prior OTC TLNs. Sometimes, you do better to pay a little more. YMMV.



##### The Chinese Connection #####

Nena had booked us at Ancor restaurant, a short ride away in the Cacho neighborhood. We caught a cab from out in front of the Quartz, driven by a friendly taxista viejo who introduced himself as Arturo. Always on top of things (excepting her perpetual tardiness) Nena made a point of grabbing his Whats before he dropped us off.

The attractive hostess at Ancor was very pleasant, greeting us warmly in Spanish, and at least not outwardly judging us for the obviousness sketchiness of our gringo-chilanga relationship, or the worser offense, my horrendous Spanish accent and failure to properly conjugate verbs in the usted (formal) form.

They seated us promptly, in some crazy booth that looked almost like a giant bird cage. The decor was intricate, both fancy, arty, and playful at the same time, in a way you would have to see to understand. Strolling with Nena through liveliness of the restaurant, which was quite crowded, made me feel alive.

Ancor was known for it's cocktails and we dove right in on that front ordering tequila sour drinks. The presentation was amazing, with our cocktails being delivered in a cage with a glass door. When the mesero opened the door, a whispy, sugary tasting smoke wafted through the booth.

As we mulled over dinner and sipped these delicious cocktails, I suggested wine to Nena, and she shook her head. "Ay no, recuerdas que hay que reunirnos con tus amigos para tomar." / Ah, no, remember that we're on the hook to meet up for drinks with your friends.

I was mildly annoyed at the time. I was ready to party. But, this slow early pace turned out to be strategically brilliant on her part, especially as the night played out.

"La cena aquí se sirve rápidamente, ya verás," she assured me. / Dinner here is served pretty quickly, you'll see.

The conversation was fun. We stuck with Spanish, with an occasional clarification in English. My Spanish is still improving, but Nena spoke slowly and tolerated my awkward blunders.

The conversation got intense as we talked about the cartel situation in México. I was prepared for a brutal assault and to be plead guilty on account of the American influence on cartels, but Nena wanted to talk about China. She claimed that these days, it was China buying the drugs cartels traffic in, more even than the Americans. She went on to explain that many Chinese immigrants in her hometown of Mexico City are involved in big money laundering schemes on behalf of cartels.

"Esto me vuela la cabeza," I told her. / This is blowing my mind.

"¡Neta!" she replied. / Truth!

Dinner was delicious, we shared a salad and both ordered seafood for our platos fuertes, which came out fresh and well presented.

One of the delights of dinner was la cuenta, which, with tip was under $100 USD.

👉 It's customary to tip a little less in Mexico. A data point: those credit card machines in that give you 3 options for picking a tip are usually 10%/15%/20% in Mexico. In contrast I'm used to 15/20/25 or even 20/22/25 in the US. I find that tipping like a normal gringo (~20%), which usually goes unnoticed in the US, invites massive appreciation from Mexican servers. This is true everywhere in the Tijuana, including the Zona Norte.




##### La Policía Municipal #####

Nena summoned Arturo via Whats and as we waited for him, we shared a few hits of a vape pen she carried. I would've been a gentlemen and offered mine but I'd been too scared to carry one out because of the municipal police.

I coughed after a hit of her pen, solid shit from CA, and then I asked her about the situation with the police robbing gringos in Tijuana.

"Pasa pero solo en la zona norte. Somos seguros en estas zonas." she replied. / It happens but only in the Zona Norte. We're safe in these neighborhoods.

I hoped that she was right, given the arsenal of weed she was carrying. I did wonder if I could be culpable somehow for said arsenal. In Tijuana, anything's possible!

She went on to give me some obvious and well trodden tips about not getting robbed by the policía municipal: don't carry drugs in public, carry as little cash as needed, don't be a gringo, don't be too drunk, don't get into fights.

"¿Vas a la zona norte este fin de semana?" she asked. / Are you headed to the Zona Norte this weekend?

I tilted my head and offered a wry smile. "No manches, por supuesto," I replied. / No kidding, of course.

"Vas a estar bien," she offered with a pick peck on the cheek. "Hay mucha gente en la zona norte y la policía no puede robarles a todos. Y esta noche no tienes que preocuparte, a menos que terminemos allá." / You'll be fine. There's a lot of people in the zona norte, and the police can't rob everyone. And tonight you don't have to worry unless we wind up there.

"¿Es eso lo que quieres, ir a la Zona Norte?" I said, giggling and exhaling a cloud of vape mist. / Is that what you want? To go to the Zona Norte?

"Si, si quieres tú," she replied giving me anther kiss. / Sure if you want to.

"No, ¡hay que ir a tomar más cócteles elegantes!" I shot back. / Nah, we have to go get more fancy cocktails!

Arturo, pulled up just then, ready to take us to the next spot.

👉 If you find yourself traveling quite a bit in Tijuana, it pays to befriend a single taxista. There's also a Mexican alternative to Uber called Didi that is ubiquitous in Tijuana. And of course Uber works there too, though the chica rumor mill suggests it's dangerous in the Zona Norte.




##### The Night is Young! #####

My wingman @Zbott had an epic spot picked out for an after dinner traigo, a fancy bar on the rooftop of a hotel not too far from downtown. Though it was cold outside, the spot was warm, with curtains hung around rooftop edges. The floor was littered with firepits and heatlamps. It was trendy, with tables surrounding a pool, and a DJ playing mostly electronic beats. Occasionally, the DJ would whip out una guitarra and jam along. There was a decent crowd, although we were seated right away. The put us right next a warm jacuzzi and a table holding fresh towels, I guess in case one were inclined, or drunk enough, to get in that jacuzzi.

I worried about the conversation due to language but it turned out just fine. ZBott's cita Julia turned out to be a fairly proficient English speaker, better even than Nena, so we mostly stuck with English. All four of us had one thing in common to discuss: we were all struggling to learn more of a foreign language.

The chicas shared some common ground in that both were aspiring entrepreneurs, working currently in the clubs to fund new enterprises. Now, it's not for me to lay a heavy judgement on a chica or stripper for the life they live. However, personally, I love hearing entrepreneurial plans from strippers. It makes me feel like as a patron, I'm contributing to something that will outlive the club.

Nena and Julia also shared a passion for la mota. Maybe not quite an equal passion, but a shared one nonetheless.

They exchanged vape pens, and then passed them around the table. Julia had a really good pen, with like a cinnamon vibe, also from California. When I think about it, the vast majority of drugs I've consumed in Tijuana have been imported from the US.

The ladies wanted shots, and in Mexico they drink tequila. Normally, the Zona Norte, I avoid tequila, but here, amongst friends on this cozy rooftop, with Nena as a guide and Arturo on standby for rides, I felt safe.

The Mesero lined up three glasses each for the four of us: a green one, a clear one, and a red one.

"¡Es la bandera mexicana!" squealed Nena. / It's the Mexican flag!

"¡Y también por navidad!" said Julia. / And also for Christmas!

"¿Qué son?" I asked / What are they?

Nena explained I was looking at lime juice, tequila and tomato juice. The order you took them was based on your preference. She offered a toast, it went something like "Up, down, together, drink" but it had some kind of a vulgar undertone to it. The next time I see her, I'll get the download on that toast.

The tequila was smooth. I chose the lime juice to chase it with, but the tomato was actually pretty tasty too.

Soon, we were talking about heading to a club. "The night is young!" exclaimed Nena.

It was indeed only about 10 PM, and partying with young chicas is what you have to do to feel youthful. The last time I took Nena out, she'd wanted to go to a music festival but that plan had fizzled due to a malfunction of my safe at Hotel Ticuán. I've regretted not taking her out since then.

I shot a glace at Zbott, and said, "Want to?"

He was game, so off we went.




##### A Joint and some Narcocorridos #####

The ladies wanted to hit up Cheers, nearby in the Zona Río. But we had a stop to make first.

Outside the hotel bar, we took refuge from the cold in Julia's SUV. From here, Nena pulled out one of her Californian joints.

Julia put on music as Nena lit the joint. As the joint made it's way back to Julia, I watched her smoke as she mouthed along to the lyrics of the song on the radio. It sounded like American trap music, except the lyrics were in Spanish, which were rolling at incomprehensibly fast rate.

As she puffed the joint, she had her eyes halfway closed, head bobbing lightly to the music, and mouth wandering gently along with lyrics as one might absent-mindedly do when enjoying a good Californian preroll.

Suddenly curious, I asked, "Oye, Julia, ¿qué tipo de música es?" / Hey Julia, what type of music is this?

Slightly started, she replied, "¿Qué?" / What?

The question had come out harsher than I'd intended, almost like "what the fuck are you playing."

"Quería decir, me gusta, pero, tengo curiosidad sobre el género de esta canción." / I meant, I like it, but I'm curious about the genre of this song.

"Es un narcocorrido," Nena interjected. / It's a narcocorrido.

Nena and I had discussed her feelings on narcocorridos before. She wasn't a fan. The genre is kind of like gansta rap, except it glorifies cartel violence instead of gang violence. The difference might seem trivial to some, but to me seems substantive. Gangs in LA or NYC just don't reach the sheer size, scale and terror of Mexican cartels. I suddenly realized we were navigating slightly dangerous waters.

"No sé la letra, pero es como hip-hop, no es un narcocorrido. Oye, aquí estás." Julia rebutted, nodding her head to the music then handing the joint back to Nena. / I don't know the lyrics, but it's like hip hop, not a narcocorrido. Here, take it.

"Pero, cómo, el título de la canción es 'Tony Montana'" I interjected. / But, like, the title of the song is 'Tony Montana'.

The got a brief laugh out of the whole group, and I redirected the conversation to where we were headed next.

"You're gonna like Cheers, it is like the American bar with music more loud and Mexican," said Nena, vaporizing the last of joint in a giant huff.




##### Two Strikes #####

We got to Cheers, and unfortunately it was closed for a private event. Nena had Arturo bang a u-turn and come back for us.

I don't remember the name of the next bar she took us too, but it was packed to the brim with Tijuanenses enjoying a night out. There was a glob of people waiting to get in. Nena made a beeline for the door to try to negotiate a spot for us. I watched inside the window as they played some kind of banda song, which everyone inside was singing along with, as if it was a popular drinking song in an Irish pub.

I suddenly felt skeptical that this would be a spot for us. We looked like, well, a pair of gringos with two hot mexicana chicas from HK.

I was also ludicrously high, and had just asked a gentlemanly old cab driver how he washes himself. I was prepared to wade into an authentic cultural experience, but this was starting to feel like too deep of a dunk.

I watched Nena negotiate with the bouncer, and to Zbott, I remarked in English that Nena was some kind of immortal, able to consume copious amounts of weed and alcohol and still keep her shit together.

I tried to deal Julia in, saying "Estuve diciendo que..." / I was saying that...

"I got it," she said cutting me off, "but I think I might be sick."

She ran across the street behind a parked car. Zbott went after her, and I went looking for Nena, to tell her it was a bust.

Nena called Arturo and before he was back, Julia had rallied.

"I'm fine, ready to go," she reported. So off we went to bar numero cuatro.




##### The Narcos Sit in VIP #####

We finally made it to some place called the Great Lodge, or something similar. It was exactly what I was expecting from a Tijuana club. A decent sized crowd, loud music, and bottle service. They wanted something like 2200 pesos (~110 USD) for bottle service for a table. I was ready to sign us up without much thought. In hindsight, before committing to the bottle, I should checked with Zbott and Julia, who at this point were wavering.

I wasn't paying close attention, because Nena had just fascinated me with a question: "¿Quieres pedir Clase Azul? Ya lo tienen." / Do you want to order Clase Azul? They have it.

The tequila brand, famous from the lyrics of Peso Pluma's summertime Reggaeton hit "Bellakeo", hailed from the Mexico's famous ruta de tequila in Jalisco, and is known for it's quality and it's hand crafted artisanal bottles. We had joked about ordering it that very night at dinner. "Bellakeo" was a track Nena and I had blasted in a trio with her friend Lorena the night we met. Here at the club, ordering Clase Azul would have been a clutch play.

I considered whether such a play would be worth the price of a 2 hour arriba. It was not, I determined. But it was fun to ponder.

"Qué tal algo menos caro," I replied finally. / How about something less expensive.

"Claro," she replied, giggling. She put in an order for a $110 bottle of tequila with the mesero. Only after we were committed did I realize Julia and Zbott were leaving. We said our farewells.

Soon, Nena and I found ourselves at the table just the two of us, as the wait staff carried out bottle with a lit sparkler, just like some strip clubs serve champagne, followed by an array of mixers and ice. They also brought me the bill for the bottle. With a seemingly modest gringo-sized tip, the wait staff were happy to help keep the table clean and mix us drinks the rest of the night.

They played most reggaeton at the club, some hip hop, and the occasional American pop song. When an old Daddy Yankee song came on everyone sang along, maybe like if you were to play "Gin & Juice" at a packed US nightclub.

"Voy al baño," I told Nena, grinning. "Vamos a tener que encontrarnos con algunos amigos para no desperdiciar esta pinche botella." / I'm hitting the bathroom. We're going to need to meet some friends so we don't waste this fucking bottle.

"Lo entiendo," she said, nodding affirmatively. / I get it.

When I returned, Nena was hard at work socializing. The problem was, everyone else had their own bottles to share too. Nena's efforts to socialize may have resulting in us importing more tequila than we exported. We still made a few friends. No one asked if she was a scort or if I was a john, maybe because that was rather obvious.

At one point, Nena was holding the bottle talking to the booth behind us, and offering a toast. She slammed a shot, and then sat down, banging her petite ass against our table, completely leveling our stores of mixers and ice. It seemed, from the looks of the meseros, like this was going to be a serious problem. However, I offered a small propina, and they seemed almost eager to clean up the mess and replenish our supplies. Thankfully (or maybe not) she had saved the bottle during the collision.

Aside from the mayhem and the acts of extraversion, we also got to talking quite a bit, Nena and I, while enjoying the tequila mixed with fruit juice. I was surprised to learn that she had known the HK manager who had been assassinated last year, and was visibly saddened when I ignorantly brought it up.

"Allí está la zona VIP del club," she said, gesturing across the room to a cordoned off area. "Algunas noches está llena de pinches narcos." / Over there is the VIP section of the club, some nights it's full of fucking narcos.

On this night it was fortunately empty.

We had time to canoodle of course. If it embarrassed Nena to be making out in front of our nuevos amigos mexicanos, she didn't show it. I think everyone was minding their own business anyway, the table-tipping incident was a bigger spectacle.

After some time, we decided to call it a night, having waged a valiant but ultimately unsuccessful battle to finish the bottle of tequila.

Before we left, Nena grabbed a few full cans of juice and stuffed them into her purse. Not to be outdone, I grabbed a few waters and pocketed them.

👉 In Tijuana, I've found that alcohol is everywhere but bottled drinking water is like gold. Never pass up a source of free or cheap bottled water in Tijuana.

I chugged one of those absconded waters on the way home, probably one of the smarter decisions I made that night.




##### A Late Night Arriba #####

We were both hammered when we made it back to the hotel, where we waded through a lobby full of equally faded gringo professionals socializing at the Quartz.

I didn't know what was going to happen back at the room. Nena was really drunk, as was I.

As we entered the room, I put on music, a playlist full of her electronic favs I had gathered over the course of our arribas and prior OTC.

I told her, "Si no quieras tener sexo esta noche, podríamos tener sexo mañana." / If you don't want to have sex tonight, we could have sex tomorrow.

"¿Por qué no los dos?" she replied, and quickly shed her dress, down to just her panties. / Why not both?

I was wavering, but if she was going to insist on partying, I would insist on keeping up.

Nena, now twerking on the bed, looked over her shoulder at me with a coquettish grin, adding, "Además, todavía tenemos que meternos en el jacuzzi." / Besides, we've still got to get in the jacuzzi.

She bent over to open the fridge, finding it empty. "Ay no!", she exclaimed. In my rush to get over the border, I hadn't picked up anything to drink.

I picked up the phone and told her we could call for drinks. Unsuccessfully trying in my head to formulate the right words to place a room service order, let alone what to order, I quickly handed the phone back to her. "¿Puedes? ¿porfa?" / I said. / Can you? please?

She took the phone and asked, "¿Qué quieres?" / What do you want?

"Lo que quieres tú," I responded. / Whatever you want.

She settled on a pair of coronas and tequila shots. At the time it seemed a sensible order, but we ended up leaving the shots untouched.

We fooled around on the bed for a bit before the attendant arrived with the order. Nena, now completely naked, slipped into the bathroom when he knocked.

When he was gone, she reemerged, found her arsenal of joints, took a pull of beer and asked sweetly "¿Listísimo para el jacuzzi?" / Ready for the jacuzzi?

I fumbled with the electronic switches by the nightstand to open the blinds and reveal the patio. Outside, it was getting frigid, but surprisingly the jacuzzi was still comfortably hot. Dipping inside the hot tub from the cold air was a spine tingling sensation.

Nena hopped in after me and fired up the joint. We smoked laughed about some of the funnier moments from the night, including my mistake with "lave" versus "le va". She pointed out that at another point in a cab ride, when attempting to compliment her on the beauty of the hills in a photo of her house I'd told her she has a "trasero bonito" in front of the same old gentlemanly cab driver. Trasero does not mean backyard, it means ass. "Terraza" would've been the word I was searching for.

She also gently chastised me for my frequent use of the phrase "Estar Cañón" (To be lit, fire, awesome or intense.) "No hay que decir que todo está cañón, o que la expresión ya no tiene sentido. ¿Como la noche en que nos conocimos? Esa noche estuve cañón... pero..." / One can't say that everything is 'lit', or the expression doesn't make sense anymore. Like the night we met? That was lit... but...

"Pero, la siguiente vez que reunimos también estuve cañón," I interjected / But the next time we met was also lit.

"Bueno, pues..." she hesitated. / OK, well...

"Y esta noche, también está jodidamente cañón," I said, taking a triumphant pull of the joint to prove my point. / And tonight is also fucking lit.

"Ay cabrón," she replied, laughing.

"Ay, pero te entiendo. Mi vocabulario es pequeño, por eso repito los mismos frases. Mi pinche español es tan malo," I replied. / Ah, but I understand you. My vocabulario is tiny, that's why I repeat the same frases. My fucking Spanish is so bad.

"Pero ya estás mejorando," she replied, moving in for a kiss. / But already you're getting better.

We made out for a bit, taking breaks to huff the joint, listening to an electronic remix of a Lana Del Rey song, followed by a little Daft Punk, Gorillaz, and Foals, all her picks.

Nena wanted me to sit on the edge of the tub, presumably so she could blow me. "Siéntate aquí," she said, exhaling a big cloud. / Sit here.

"No mames, hace demasiado frio," I shot back, laughing. "Volvamos a la cama." / No way, it's too cold. Let's go back to the bed.

Nena took a final and gigantic puff of the joint, then quickly hopped out of the tub and scurried back into the room out of the cold December air.

When we got back to the room, we dried each other off, and my cock was in her mouth before my head even hit the back of the pillow on the bed.

Her oral skills were sloppier and less precise than earlier in the evening, but still just as good in a different way. Vitamin V is a hell of a drug, and I think Nena and I both knew she had her work cut out for her. As drunk as I was, there was no earthy explanation for the raging hard on I had, other the Viagra I had taken.

Yet, Nena was determined, turning her attention to exquisitely deepthroating my cock again.

I relaxed as she continued swallowing my cock to the rhythm of the electronic beats bouncing around the room.

Eventually, I grabbed a condom and handed it to her. She applied it with her mouth again, maybe less artfully than before but it got the job done. I offered her lube, and while attempting to open the seal of the bottle, I managed to dump half of it on the bed. Thankfully we had another queen bed to sleep in.

I whipped her around for doggy first. Doggy doesn't usually make my top 5 positions, but for reasons that are hazy to me, it's much more fun when drunk. It's perfect for sloppily grabbing tits as they flop to the rhythm of the banging.

We went to the spoon for a while, always a novelty, then I had her back to missionary with both knees up.

"¿Vas a darme la leche?" she asked sweetly, with a smile, in between deep kisses. / Are you going to give me cum?

It sounds much sexier in Spanish, and it pushed me over the ledge. I nutted in the bag.

I managed to stagger to the bathroom to remove the bag and quickly wash up. When my head hit the pillow of the other, clean bed, I was out for the night. Nena shut down the lights in the room, and then climbed in beside me.



##### An AM Quickie HJ #####

Mercifully, checkout at the Quartz wasn't until noon. I woke up around 10:45, hit the rest room, freshened up and immediately found a bottle of water to chug.

Nena was just beginning to stir. She turned to me, beamed an impossible 50 kilowatt smile, yawned sweetly while stretching an arm, and said, "Buenos Días, ¿Cómo estás, cariño?" / Good morning. How are you, sweetie?

"Buenos. De verdad," I said, holding my head. "Tengo mucha resaca." / Morning. I'm really hungover.

"Ay, yo también, ven acá," she replied. / Hey, me too. Come here.

I paused and grabbed a bottle of water and offered it to her. "¿La quieres?" / Want it?

"Sí," she replied, opening the bottle and taking a big pull.

I flopped down on the bed next to her, both of us still naked from the night before. She gave me some kind of scalp massage for a bit, which actually seemed to have some limited but measurable effect in dampening the hangover.

Then she excused herself to freshen up on the bathroom. When she got back, she climbed directly on top of me and gave me a minty fresh kiss. That had a decidedly anti-hangover effect.

We made out for a while I caressed her soft skin and body. Eventually she started kissing my chest and moved down to work on my balls, and then my johnson, which was finally ready for a third round with this wonderful chica.

She gave her best attempt at a BBBJ, but her deepthroat was just not up to par with the prior days' performances. I didn't blame her, given our sordidly hungover states. I would have gagged on French fries at this point in time, let alone a cock in the throat.

I suggested, "Qué tal probamos una paja." / How about we try a hand job.

This time she took me up on the offer. I handed her the lubricant, which she applied liberally, and went to work. First sucking on my nipples as she massaged my johnson, then back to a nice DFK, where she spread her legs to let me massage her lady bits.

I didn't last long in this state before nutting for a third time in our TLN. That sweet HJ hit the spot, I think I would've gotten nauseous trying to fuck her that morning.

I gave her a kiss and thanked her for the quickie. I showered, and then packed while she showered. We were out of the room at noon exactly. She told me she lived on the opposite side of Zone Norte from Zona Rio, and would be happy to drop me off on her way home. The Didi she hailed looked impossibly small from the outside, but fit us an my luggage quite comfortably.

If Nena had any judgements about my patronage of the Zona, she didn't show them. She was as bubbly and chatty as ever on the way down Calle Coahuila, and when we arrived at the Rizo, she gave me a big smile and kiss, telling me, "¡Espero que disfrutes tus vacaciones!" / I hope you enjoy your vacation!



##### ¡Mis vacaciones están cañón! #####

With three nights booked at the Rizo, I wondered whether I would hear from Nena.

She waited a full day before texting, writing simply "Hola Guapo, cómo estás? ¿Cómo van las vacaciones?" / Hey handsome, how is your vacation going?

At the time I received her message, I was neck deep in drinks with Carmen, another amazing chica whom I will report on in a subsequent review of Hong Kong Club.

I snuck off to the bathroom to text Nena back, feeling deliciously evil juggling these two chicas. I told Nena. "¡Mis vacaciones están cañón! Jajaja. De verdad, te extraño y deseo que tú y yo habíamos hecho otras planes para este fin de semana." / My vacation is lit! Hahaha. Really though, I miss you, and I wish that you and I had made other plans for this weekend.

Nena mentioned getting together that night, but I told her I would be occupied. I suggested the following afternoon, a Sunday, which would be my last day (and night) in town. @Zbott would be pushing off Sunday morning, and with @Justinyoo arriving that evening, I had a afternoon window I could either spend solo at the club, with Carmen, or with Nena. I chose to spend it with Nena. We hammered out a plan to meet for lunch at 2 PM.

That Sunday, she surprised me by being only 15 minutes late. She showed up at the Rizo looking gorgeous in a bright blue outfit with lots of straps and bows.

I met her on the street outside the Rizo, and she greeted me with a big hug and kiss. I still wasn't sure how this was going to work. She had told me she still worked about 1 week a month at HK. Would the house try to charge me a barfine to bring her to the room? Would we just get a cheap hotel elsewhere? I wasn't even sure if she was actually meeting me for lunch or if that was a euphemism. I was pretty hungry, having woken up late to sleep off the hangover from the previous wild night out with Carmen, Zbott, and Zbott's new friend Violet.

My stomach grumbled.

Nena asked "Y para el almuerzo?" / And, for lunch?

Thank god, that solved one mystery. "¿Qué quieres?" I asked. "¿Podríamos ir al restaurante Azul o al Senda Norte? ¿O qué tal los tacos de la esquina? Jaja." / What do you want? We could go to Azul restaurante or Senda Norte? Or how about the tacos from the street corner.

Nena had previously told me she thinks those street tacos outside HK are made from dogs and cats. I don't know how true this is, but if it is true, those are some fucking delicious dogs and cats.

She cast a smirk in my direction for suggesting the tacos, and replied "¿Qué opinas de Caesar's?" she asked. / What do you think about Caesar's?

I knew little about Caesar's restaurant other than it was famous for inventing the salad of the same name. And a good Caesar salad sounded like it would hit the spot for my aching, hungover digestive system.

"Suena maravilloso. ¡Hagámoslo! ¿Está lejos?" I replied enthusiastically. / Sounds marvelous, let's do it. Is it far?

"No, está muy cerca, cariño," she replied, beaming a bright smile. / No, it's very close, sweetie.

"Entonces, Vámonos!" I replied. / Then, let's get out of here!

We popped in a cab right in front of the Rizo. Caesar's was really close, just a short jaunt into Downtown TJ. Though what should've been a 5 minute ride took 15 minutes, because on Sundays in Tijuana, they close approximately 9 of every 10 streets for street markets, where they sell old beat up clothes.

👉If you're in the market for old beat up clothes, or ancient electronics, Tijuana on a Sunday is the place to be.

Caesar's, which we found in a cool, hip and bustling block of downtown, was busy, but we were seated and served quickly.

Of course, we ordered a big Caesar salad to share, and also a pair of light seafood appetizers. At Caesar's they pull a cart right up to your table and make the salad fresh before your eyes. It was pretty damn good, as were the apps. And it was surprisingly cheap. I can't recall exactly, but I remember thinking that I've had fancy fast food lunches that cost more. It helped that neither one of us were drinking.

As the meal wound down, I asked her "¿Entonces... qué sigue?" / So... What's next?

Nena shot me a coquettish smile and then popped her devil horn index fingers up behind her head. "¿Podríamos ir a tu habitación? ¿Tienes un jacuzzi?" / We could go to your room. Do you have a jacuzzi?

I did in fact have a Jacuzzi, and thanks to a few dollar tip to a viajero late the previous evening, it was nice and clean, in spite of the rampant action that thing had seen over the weekend.

"Si, tengo un jacuzzi." I replied. "Pero, si vayamos a mi cuarto, me cobrarían una cuota de entrada, o una multa de bar?" / Yep, I have a jacuzzi. But, if we go to my room, would they charge me an entrance fee, or a bar fine?

"Claro que no," she replied. "Si te fueras quedando en el Hotel Cascadas, podría ser una multa, pero al Rizo, no." / Definitely not. If you were staying at Cascadas, there could be a fine, but not at the Rizo.

The bar fine rules at Cas/Rizo are a mysterious thing but I was satisfied with Nena's answer. I paid the check and told her "¡Órale, vámonos!" / Alright, let's go!



##### Nena's Encore #####

Just as Nena said, no one tried to extract a fine from me at the Rizo as we came upstairs through the lobby. They checked her ID, wrote down her name and my room number, but otherwise didn't bother us. She stayed for about 4 blissful hours and there was no knock on the door.

I started the tub as soon as we got in, knowing it would take at least 45 minutes to fill. Nena got to work firing up another gallo californiano.

She took a few hits, and then handed me the joint. "Aquí estás," she said, with a cute cough. / Here you go.

We sat on the bed, shot the shit and smoked for a bit, talking about US-Mex politics and how they would be affected by both countries' recent elections. We both agreed it would be a rocky few years for US-Mex relations.

I also tried to learn more about the mysteries of HK's bar fine rules. She did some explaining but it went right over my head. "Neta," I replied, "esas pinches reglas no tiene sentido." / Truth, those fucking rules don't make any sense.

"Así es," that's right, she offered. Then she snuggled up close to me and gave me a quick peck. She picked up her long black hair, showing off a complicated, ribbony back to her halter top. "Me puedes ayudar?" / Can you help me?

The complex cloth-work was a puzzle of it's own, like an minigame within a AAA feature. I figured it out, but the real challenge would be putting it back on later.

I played with her fun perky tits as she showed off her terrific DFK skills. Unlike our prior three sessions on the TLN, which were rushed, drunken, and hungover respectively, in this encounter, we had the time and balance to sit on the bed and make out like teenagers. We did so for probably about an hour, to the point that the tub was already full.

But Nena wasn't ready for the tub yet. As I adjusted the nobs to try to keep it warm, but not overflowing, Nena asked me "¿Puedo chuparte, cariño?" / Can I suck you off, sweetie?

"¿Quien va a decir 'no' a esa pregunta?" I replied, cackling out loud. / Who is going to say 'no' to that question?

I had been about ready to jump in the tub, but instead did an about face and rejoined her on the bed. She quickly relieved me of my remaining garmets and then stroked my cock for a bit while giving me a few more besos. Then she went to work with the BBBJ.

It felt like she was on a mission, with something to prove. Maybe she was worried I had been jaded by her hungover performance from Friday morning. Maybe she just wanted to make sure she'd stand out amongst the other chicas she knew I had seen. Though I had told her nothing to her about other chicas, she was contending this weekend to keep her title as RonJax2's ATF, fending off an amazingly sexy challenge from the sultry Sinaloan spinner Carmen (who I will write about in a subsequent review of HK). The way Nena was voraciously sucking my dick, it was like she knew the competition was close.

Whatever the reason, the result was fantasic: it was the most marvelous deepthroat BBBJ I've had in my lifetime. Like an energizer bunny, she kept going and going and going. Being day 4 in Tijuana, these orgasms were becoming increasingly elusive. Yet Nena was determined. I'm not sure how long she was at it, gargling on my cock, craming it into the back of her throat. She'd take short breaks and jerk me off, sucking my nipples, then would get back to the deepthroat.

It felt like she could have been at it for an hour, maybe longer. At one point, I kind of wanted to fuck her, but the show was just so spectacular, I didn't want to interupt her performance. Eventually, I got there, toes curling as I deposited a small load of jizz in her throat. She coughed it up, then swallowed it with a gulp, smiling and wiping her chin off victoriously.

Goddamn, she was precious. And without words beyond "Gulp, gulp", she made a hell of a compelling argument to retain her standing as ATF.

Only after I'd orgasmed from this marathon BBBJ session did we get in the tub. We cannodled in the suds, taking turns giving each other masages, and of course, finished off another joint. It was a pleasant way to slowly wind down a terrific afternoon.

As the water grew tepid, Nena showed no signs of leaving. We dried off, and I paid her, offering her $400 for her time. I was worried she might feel low-balled, given she'd spent 4 hours with me at this point, but she was happy with that amount, and still showed no signs of leaving. The cash I'd paid her, I'm certain it was substantially less than I'd have unloaded if I'd have spent the afternoon in the club.

Paying her didn't seem to inspire her to leave. She was on the bed, digging through her purse, looking like she was about to spark another joint. Truth be told, a large part of me didn't want her to leave either. But, I cowboyed up and I explained to her that I had an obligation to prepare for that evening.

I didn't mention that obligation was hunting for chicas nuevas in HK with a new wingman. I let her make whatever assumption she would like, and she seemed to prefer the assumption that I was working that evening, responding by asking me more questions about my profession. Maybe she was just letting me off the hook easy.

We ended up struggling for like 5-10 minutes trying to lace back up her halter top. I suck at all things clothing, but it was a fun struggle, her giggling the entire time at my clumsiness. I did wonder briefly who had laced her up in the first place earlier that afternoon.

I didn't linger on that thought. There was no need to, whatever her circumstances, Nena continued to shine as an A+ provider. She was amazing in bed with maxed out DFK and BBBJ skills. She was the life of the party, and perpetual organizer of fun times, good food, ample drink, and safe transit. And she was always prepared with enough weed to smoke her way through any possible situation.

I walked her out to a cab, gave her a hug and kiss, and then waved as she pulled off and blew me a kiss from the backseat of the taxi. Damn the torpedos, and damn the variety, as I watched her float away in that cab I determined that there was no other option but to find away to see her again soon.

I felt pangs of regret, like I'd done the wrong thing by sending her away.

But there was no time to dwell on it, I had a new purpose to fulfill. I needed to get cleaned up for the night's chica, whoever that might be. I had a new wingman to meet, and ahead of us was plowing through a night of serious chica hunting. Zona trips are hard work.

Adjudicators

jmiddle30234

justinyoo

The article están cañón! Jajaja

IWantHerOnMe

Puddy Tat

DickyDoo2

Arobins30

vajmon

This could've been several articles!

rugrat