The Sisters – Part One

“On Wednesday night we will be having a wet t-shirt event. Gavin, I need to you to pour the water on the girls. Is that okay?”

My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if my manager, Ricardo, was being serious. It was two weeks into my first summer season in Lagos, Portugal. A few weeks prior, I had been given strict instructions to visit this town by a drunken woman in Switzerland. “It was a risk that had paid off.” I remember thinking to myself as I excitedly agreed to be the ‘water pourer’ of Wednesday night’s wet t-shirt competition.

2009 was a year of many firsts for me. I broke up with a girlfriend for the first time, I travelled for more than just a few months for the first time and I recruited girls to take part in a wet t-shirt competition, just to name a few.

The night had finally arrived and we had two hours to patrol the streets of Lagos looking for girls that were happy to participate. “The key is to be persuasive, but not creepy.” Instructed Tom as we discussed tactics on how best to go about talking girls into being soaked in freezing cold water for the purpose of a hundred or so horny males to be able to see their tits as they dance for our entertainment on a stage. It was obviously going to be tough to find any takers if we were going to be 100% honest.

Tom was a 19-year-old law student from Western Australia. He was a people person; a natural salesman, and didn’t think twice before approaching a group of girls to ask them what their plans were for the night.

Within two hours we had spoken to over one hundred women. During that time we did what any penis-owning man would do: Target women with sizeable racks, pretty faces and that looked as if they may have little to no self-respect for their bodies after a few drinks. By the time the bar doors had opened we had successfully recruited 12 attractive women. The stage was set, the ice water jugs were filled and entire club was filled with wide-eyed, testosterone filled men. It was show time.

The very first girl arrived on stage to what seemed like hundreds of wolf whistles.

“Good luck.” Were the only words of encouragement I could think of as I prepared to pour the icy water over her white t-shirt.

“Do the girls usually get their breasts out during these type of things?” She asked in a French accent.

I obviously had no other choice but to take full advantage of her naivety. 

“Yes, after I pour the water on you it’s best for you to remove your t-shirt.” I replied trying to keep a straight face.

As she was the first girl on stage I was hoping for the remaining women’s competitive nature to take over. If they were going to stand a chance of winning they would have no choice but to do something of equal or greater nudity. My devious plan worked as expected with some girls even removing their t-shirts before I had begun to pour water over them. A few of the girls were so drunk that had I replaced the jugs of water with beakers full of semen, I’m certain they wouldn’t of been able to tell the difference.

Throughout the proceedings two girls had piqued my interest. They were sisters from England and had decided that dancing topless together for the pleasure of the male audience was the right thing to do. Linda was a brunette and the most of attractive of the two. She was of the ripe age of 18, but communicated a sexual vibe that suggested that she had experienced more cock than what I had first assumed. Her older sister, Carly, was much shorter with bleached blonde hair and a slightly jaded face, however her body was the perfect kind of thin that men dream about when wanting a girl they can throw around the bedroom.

During the night Dean and I had arranged the meet the sisters in the town centre and requested that they join us to a rock gig just outside the town walls. By this time we were quite drunk and although the girls seemed fairy keen to meet, we weren't counting on them to show up.

Before we left, Carlos, the owner of the bar had signalled Tom and I to follow him up the stairs into the private bathroom. Carlos was one of the most intimidating Portuguese men I had ever met. The majority of the time he mumbled like a retarded drug lord, but out of fear, anyone involved in the conversation would be forced to nod politely, trying as hard as they could not to look as confused as a duck emerging from a dryer.

As we entered the bathroom Carlos was quick to lock the door. My eyes darted between Tom and Carlos. Tom and I exchanged confused looks as Carlos reached deep into his pocket. My heart started to race as my mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion: Carlos was going to kill us both for nothing more than his own pleasure. As my heart began to race my weigh shifted from my back foot onto my front foot as I thought about making a run for the door. But before I could make the move Carlos pulled a clear plastic bag filled with cocaine out from the bottom of his pocket.

"This is for making tonight a success." Is what I think he mumbled as he quickly arranged the cocaine into three perfectly even lines. I knew for a fact that Tom had never done drugs before, but he wasn't about to refuse cocaine from the most intimidating man in Lagos.

We left the bathroom sniffing like flu victims and thankful we hadn't been murdered. 

I met Dean on my way out. It was time to meet the sisters in the town centre. 

To be concluded

- Gavin Madden