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Where Bali decadence ends in the west of the island, conservatism begins at Bunyuwangi, the most easterly point of Java.

‘What you are saying is that…’

I had no idea what I was saying. I’ve learnt, don’t get too intellectual around Bernie.

‘Call me Rex,’ he says. ‘You aren’t the only one with a few extra names to spare.’

We were in the fast food joint drinking cokes and waiting for our fried chicken order.

‘Lots of tender  breasts at this joint,’ says Bernie.

Cheap grub too.

Bunyuwangi is  the place of sweet smelling water.

‘More fucking like stagnant.’

It’s a port town, I said. ‘Smells are a big part of it’s makeup.’

Inside, the place was dressed up with flat surfaces and laminated tables.

It wasn’t Star Bucks but then again the prices were reasonable.

The front of the restaurant had large windows and outside, was a balcony and smoking area for those who didn’t mind a heat blast.

Our fried chicken arrived.

It looked yummy.

‘About time,’ said Bernie, who was famished.’

‘Anything else,’ said the waitress. She was wearing a colorful scarf on her head with a ponytail slipping out the back.

‘But still covered by the head scarf,’ observed Bernie, who was tucking into his food.

She was your typical Muslim girl.

‘Typical from here,’ she said, as she casually jiggled, swaying from foot to foot, to get the right sway and movement of her voluptuous top half.

Eyes were off the fried  chicken and onto her large mounds.

‘They must put a lot of steroids in the chicken,’ said Bernie.

‘Not really,’ said the waitress, who had a name tag that said she was Fitri. ‘It’s all al la natural, just like the girls from around here.’

Was she flirting with us.

Those love  mounds looked promising under the shiny light fabric of her white dress shirt.

‘The chicken is lovely,’ I said, trying not to look like a desperate man under the spell of the boobs. ‘Can we have two more avocardo smoothies.’

‘Right onto it,’ said Fitri, ‘and would  you like another side order of fries.’

Before I could answer, Bernie said ‘make it two, and another round of the 10 000 Rupiah fried chicken set.’

He winked at me. Fitri’s boobs did a little jiggle while she was making graceful little  movements emanating from the heels of her feet.

‘Pay dirt,’ I said, as she sashayed back to the counter. ‘I told you this place had charm.’

‘More than you would believe,’ said Bernhard. ‘As I was saying, I was fucking famished from all that driving. Haven’t eaten since we left Perth last night.’

Fitri came back with the order.

I couldn’t help noticing underneath her bright pink scarf,  she had a very pixie like face, with a nose that turned dainty like a down ski ramp. Her shape was voluptuous. She filled her black skirt well with an hour glass fed on deep fried chicken and tofu.

‘Are you checking me out,’ she asked, and pulled out the creases on her skirt and shirt,  which was pretty much a caressing for the customer’s benefits.

‘How is the salary here,’ asked Bernie.

‘Not bad, we are on  a basic wage of about five dollars, your currency a day, so tips are always welcome.’

She let out a little laugh, so sweet and gentle, and played with her hair and did a little lithe movement. Turning this and that way so we could get an eyeful  of her wonderful profile.

‘I’m actually a student,’ she said, flicking her long black hair away from her face, revealing a pair of sensual full lips.

‘Not revealing, they are always on me, and when I’m talking they are moving, giving the appearance of sensual.’

She could read my thoughts.

‘It’s  not hard,’ she says, looking at Bernhard who was playing around with some red notes in his wallet.

‘We got to go now,’ he says,  paying up and leaving her a few extra reads.

‘You shouldn’t,’ she said as she bent down to pick up the dishes, revealing a nice view of her amazing top half spread.

I couldn’t help but notice her erect nipples.

‘Money does that to us here in East Java.’

What else does it to you?

She smiles.

‘You may have heard of the special herb we use to make our susu bigger.’

Susu is milk in Indonesian, a perfect name for tits too. You can play upon the word all day long and never get bored with it. I’ll have milk in my coffee. I’ll have milk in my face.

‘No,’ said Bernhard, ‘ but by the looks  of things, I think they are putting something in the milk that they shouldn’t be.’

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘It could  be a combination of Dutch  DNA and the  wild herbs picked from the slopes of Mt. Ijien that we massage in our breasts every day.’

I had heard about it, and told her we were going to climb the mountain today.

‘Do we have time, fuckhead?’ asked Bernhard.

‘It’s only 3pm,’ I said, still getting an eyeful of Fitri. She pulled out her smart phone and bent down towards me to show us the quickest way there.

‘It’s  only a 20 minute drive,’ she said. ‘You  should  be able to climb the top and be back down the bottom by sunset.’

Her hand brushed across  my arm, and she did the hair dresser trick and rubbed one of  her breasts against me.

Thanks, I told her, and pulled out a red note and put it in her hand.

‘That’s for  being kind and helpful.’

‘Every bit helps towards your study,’ said Bernhard who grabbed me by arm and escorted me outside.

‘Don’t forget to come back tonight,’ said  Fitri. ‘I’m doing a double shift and we close at midnight.’

Those bazookas were staring us down.

‘You might also get to meet my sister, she starts the evening shift.’

Double shifts and double D’s.

‘Actually she’s larger than me, in every possible way.’

Dream material this was, I thought, as I gave a shy wave while Bernhard was dragging me to the safety of the car. I only then just noticed the sign outside, which said,  ‘Welcome to Hooters, best breasts in town.’

They weren’t kidding.

Bernhard started heading out of town before he spoke.

‘Knockers galore, wow nelly.’

It took alot to get the kiwi going, but he was going in a big way.

‘Wank material,’  I said, ‘now lets get a volcano under our belt and work up an appetite for dinner tonight.’

 

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