Chicago Club report and a rant on meseros

I made my annual pilgrimage to Tijuana knowing full well after my travels this year that there are FAR better places in Mexico to get my Latina fix, with Monterrey at the top of that list. I had no intention of going this year, but Southwest Airlines was running this insane promotion wherein if you purchased one round trip fare during the last days of August, and completed your trip by September 30, you would get a free companion pass for January through March next year. A quick search found me a $198 round trip from San Antonio to San Diego the week of September 18. I jumped on that and Ive already gotten my companion pass. So essentially I took a trip to Tijuana just for an airline promotion. I found an Airbnb room on Avenida Constitution four blocks south of Zona Norte for a total price of $103 for a three night stay. Bed and bath with a shared kitchen and patio. I took public transportation, bus from airport to trolley terminal and trolley to the border for $2.50 each way. So essentially I’ve paid $300 to get to Tijuana and stay pretty much in Zona Norte. I had $800 cash for four days, and came home with $200, which means I spent six bills on seven Chicas.

One of the Chicas was at Chicago Club. This place has really picked up its game in the past couple years. Maybe forty girls, almost all of them young, slim and pretty. They are not pushy or aggressive like the Hong Kong girls, with a few exceptions. There was a girl in a jacuzzi when I went in onTuesday night. When I came back in Wednesday and Thursday, she was there in the jacuzzi again. She was downing those little seven ounce fichas one after another and splashing, laughing and masturbating using both her fingers and a rubber dildo. Said her name is Sunny and she was having more fun than anyone else there. Twenty years old with a thin, nubile hairless, tatooless perfect body with little firm b cups, shaved pussy and tiny puckered ass. Tight little curly hair to her shoulders, and a beaming smile. She is an enchanting little mermaid and I was quite taken with her infectious joy. In VIP, she told me she lives in a small town almost an hours drive away, and takes an Uber in and back home every day. Said she doesn’t really like going upstairs, finds it more fun and rewarding to just stay and splash around and drink beer, and let me tell you, this girl can suck them down.

Well I talked her out of the tub and back to the farthest VIP booth. Despite what I’ve read, there are no doors or curtains in VIP, just more open booths along the wall, but toward the back by the women’s locker room. I paid a mesero fifty dollars for a bucket of five mini beers and she wrapped a towel around herself and we walked back for our half hour alone. Or so I had hoped. I tipped the son of a bitch ten dollars and made it clear that I would not be needing anything else for thirty minutes.