It's been a day and a night after some intruding hand had snatched it from my gaping side pocket, but the events that lead to its lost still replays at the back of my head. It could have been averted, had I not lulled my senses with three bottles of Red Horse Beer. However, done is the deed that could make me stop the madness.
Deliverance has revealed the exit from the dark, suffocating and sweaty grounds of the dance floor.
---
Past midnight. Encantadia left Trinoma after a night of stories and jokes passed around the table. The Kondesa finally met the Dukesa - the two gentlemen who became the significant others of the ones belonging to the original five. Their introduction was a pleasant experience. Both guys found a stronger connection to the group. I missed the Dukesa after months of not being able to see him. His presence last night reminded me how his partner, Tagay, had matured and how the friendship among the three of us had grown.
My Gimik Pass for the week hasn't been used yet and I was planning to take advantage of the weekend to sneak into the dancing grounds of Che'Lu. It was a Sunday morning and I am most certain that the place would be packed with gay men. Bored and restless, I instructed the cab to drive me to Malate. The night was young, and I'd like to spend it doing something fun.
Che'lu was indeed packed that night, unfortunately, it wasn't the crowd I was looking for. Gone are the nights when straight-acting strangers would trade glances and smile at you. In their place were kids - lanky, snooty, and broken-armed twinks huddled in groups which included their loud and boisterous fag hags. I felt out of place, really, and to forget how solitary my spot was in the order of things, to satiate myself with beer was the only solution I had in mind.
First Red Horse Bottle.
I scoured the dance floor for a challenger. Even with barely 2 hours of sleep, my mind was in the mood to grind and bend my body. I bumped into several boys worthy as an adversary, however, they haven't seen through my provocations. They were busy tapping, shoving and mingling with their friends instead of looking for some action.
It might be possible also, that my mojo isn't with me that night. I left it in dreamland somehow.
Second Red Horse Bottle.
It was past 1 in the morning. The crowd was getting rowdier and the dance floor had become a watering hall for fairies. I should have gone to the bath houses instead, if it was action I really sought. Maybe the tiled chambers offered more options to meet the guys I sought. But to fuck wasn't really my plan. Besides, it's been more than a year since I entered its naked halls. It was enough that I get attention from strangers and hunt down potential preys that could serve as a distraction until I decide to settle for the one.
Tipsy and on the verge of passing out. I wrapped my big arms around a catatonic kid's lean frame. He never showed any response. He might have not noticed my groping at all.
Third Red Horse Bottle
I stood at a corner mustering whatever strength and degree of control I could impose on my senses. Being there on a sleepless, intoxicated night wasn't really a good idea. I should have headed straight home instead. As I was about to leave and accept my defeat for not getting a worthy partner during my stay, I noticed this particular stocky guy dancing in front of me. He wasn't really my type, but the way he danced provoked me.
The guy appeared to be an interesting target.
I positioned myself in front of him and pretended to follow his bouncy moves. He sensed my approach and began brushing off his fingers against mine. The fish caught my bait and within seconds our sweaty bodies found themselves merging and becoming one. He was a good partner for bending my will and forcing me to accept his dominance. Unlike the previous ones who would cautiously test the waters, he was an outright aggressor. It never felt this good letting a stranger have a total control over the way I moved.
For that alone, I shoved my back against his groin and let him thrust himself until he got tired. Talk about doing a frottage on a club. Four house tracks, several make-out moments, and two discreet sliding-of-one's-hand-inside-someone-else's-jeans and I felt like a slut.
During a break, he asked for my number. Since I wasn't interested to prolong our contact I gave him a wrong one instead. Good thing, he did not insist that I get his number as well.
---
It was already getting late and I have work the following morning. It's time to go home.
Feeling the contents of my pockets, something appeared missing. The lost triggered the alarm. I tried frisking my pockets again and it wasn't there. I was hoodwinked, maybe, by the same person who broke down my defenses. There was a moment of shock and panic, but experience tells that there was no use turning the place around for a stolen phone.
To accept the lost was the only course of action. I returned to my dance partner and hugged him for one last time. He sympathized for my lost and tried to console me the best way he could. Meanwhile my hands were everywhere, frisking his pockets.
He didn't have my phone.
Though he may be responsible for its lost, to achieve the deed required accomplices. However, I had no proofs to support my assumptions so I let things be and charged everything to experience.
I left the bar distraught over losing my phone. It might have been acquired through a friend's generosity, but there is no doubt that its lost speak about the way I take care of things.
And how easy it was for me to accept their passing.
With nothing else to do, (despite finally winning the attention and caresses of the guy I've been exchanging smiles and glances since the boyfriend days) I slipped out of Malate as obscurely as I arrived.
---
The phone has been replaced (and charged to my credit card) Please introduce yourself when you send me a text message. Thank you.
Deliverance has revealed the exit from the dark, suffocating and sweaty grounds of the dance floor.
---
Past midnight. Encantadia left Trinoma after a night of stories and jokes passed around the table. The Kondesa finally met the Dukesa - the two gentlemen who became the significant others of the ones belonging to the original five. Their introduction was a pleasant experience. Both guys found a stronger connection to the group. I missed the Dukesa after months of not being able to see him. His presence last night reminded me how his partner, Tagay, had matured and how the friendship among the three of us had grown.
My Gimik Pass for the week hasn't been used yet and I was planning to take advantage of the weekend to sneak into the dancing grounds of Che'Lu. It was a Sunday morning and I am most certain that the place would be packed with gay men. Bored and restless, I instructed the cab to drive me to Malate. The night was young, and I'd like to spend it doing something fun.
Che'lu was indeed packed that night, unfortunately, it wasn't the crowd I was looking for. Gone are the nights when straight-acting strangers would trade glances and smile at you. In their place were kids - lanky, snooty, and broken-armed twinks huddled in groups which included their loud and boisterous fag hags. I felt out of place, really, and to forget how solitary my spot was in the order of things, to satiate myself with beer was the only solution I had in mind.
First Red Horse Bottle.
I scoured the dance floor for a challenger. Even with barely 2 hours of sleep, my mind was in the mood to grind and bend my body. I bumped into several boys worthy as an adversary, however, they haven't seen through my provocations. They were busy tapping, shoving and mingling with their friends instead of looking for some action.
It might be possible also, that my mojo isn't with me that night. I left it in dreamland somehow.
Second Red Horse Bottle.
It was past 1 in the morning. The crowd was getting rowdier and the dance floor had become a watering hall for fairies. I should have gone to the bath houses instead, if it was action I really sought. Maybe the tiled chambers offered more options to meet the guys I sought. But to fuck wasn't really my plan. Besides, it's been more than a year since I entered its naked halls. It was enough that I get attention from strangers and hunt down potential preys that could serve as a distraction until I decide to settle for the one.
Tipsy and on the verge of passing out. I wrapped my big arms around a catatonic kid's lean frame. He never showed any response. He might have not noticed my groping at all.
Third Red Horse Bottle
I stood at a corner mustering whatever strength and degree of control I could impose on my senses. Being there on a sleepless, intoxicated night wasn't really a good idea. I should have headed straight home instead. As I was about to leave and accept my defeat for not getting a worthy partner during my stay, I noticed this particular stocky guy dancing in front of me. He wasn't really my type, but the way he danced provoked me.
The guy appeared to be an interesting target.
I positioned myself in front of him and pretended to follow his bouncy moves. He sensed my approach and began brushing off his fingers against mine. The fish caught my bait and within seconds our sweaty bodies found themselves merging and becoming one. He was a good partner for bending my will and forcing me to accept his dominance. Unlike the previous ones who would cautiously test the waters, he was an outright aggressor. It never felt this good letting a stranger have a total control over the way I moved.
For that alone, I shoved my back against his groin and let him thrust himself until he got tired. Talk about doing a frottage on a club. Four house tracks, several make-out moments, and two discreet sliding-of-one's-hand-inside-someone-else's-jeans and I felt like a slut.
During a break, he asked for my number. Since I wasn't interested to prolong our contact I gave him a wrong one instead. Good thing, he did not insist that I get his number as well.
---
It was already getting late and I have work the following morning. It's time to go home.
Feeling the contents of my pockets, something appeared missing. The lost triggered the alarm. I tried frisking my pockets again and it wasn't there. I was hoodwinked, maybe, by the same person who broke down my defenses. There was a moment of shock and panic, but experience tells that there was no use turning the place around for a stolen phone.
To accept the lost was the only course of action. I returned to my dance partner and hugged him for one last time. He sympathized for my lost and tried to console me the best way he could. Meanwhile my hands were everywhere, frisking his pockets.
He didn't have my phone.
Though he may be responsible for its lost, to achieve the deed required accomplices. However, I had no proofs to support my assumptions so I let things be and charged everything to experience.
I left the bar distraught over losing my phone. It might have been acquired through a friend's generosity, but there is no doubt that its lost speak about the way I take care of things.
And how easy it was for me to accept their passing.
With nothing else to do, (despite finally winning the attention and caresses of the guy I've been exchanging smiles and glances since the boyfriend days) I slipped out of Malate as obscurely as I arrived.
---
The phone has been replaced (and charged to my credit card) Please introduce yourself when you send me a text message. Thank you.
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