Blindfold

Posted: April 11, 2012 | Author: LA | Filed under: English, Short Stories | Leave a comment »

BLINDFOLD

I am who you’d call “male prostitute”. I sleep with women for money, it’s that simple. Detestable as you might find, but it’s a job and it’s my job. Demands create supplies. There are far more female prostitutes than male ones but there might be just the same numbers of male and female customers who have the need for a sex partner. For one night.

I keep myself clean as much as I can. I do what I’m supposed to do and nothing more. The women give me money. I give them the pleasure worth as much as the amount of money I earn. It’s give and take down to the point. No feeling, no affection, no bond, no whatsoever. I’ve never seen any of their faces. They only see part of mine. Blind fold and condom is the rule, deal is done through phone, money is prepaid, and everything was settled before the main dish is served.

There was this one customer. I called her Lily. I have this particular habit of giving nicknames to people for no particular reason, except maybe for the fact that the name suits that person.

So, this Lily was a regular customer. I normally don’t like having regularity. When you get too attached to something, it will be one hell of a pain when you lose it. But she was different. She was the powerful lady type: Financially successful, physically elegant, emotionally stable and lonely. She played things fair, too fair, with a hint of cruel coldness. When it came to sex, she just meant business: she got what she paid for. Strangely enough, that was what kept me and her on a friendly term, like partners.

One day, Lily contacted me for a hook.

“It’s a friend.” Her voice echoed monotonously through the phone.

“Why can’t she just call me directly? You know so well I don’t deal through third party.”

“Can’t we have an exception?” Lily said, voice soften. Then she added hesitatingly. “She’s a green cherry.”

I paused for a second. A green cherry. A virgin.

“More young farmers out there would love a green cheery, dear. I myself prefer it ripped. I think you make the wrong call.”

“My gentleman, you’re loved because you know when to close your mouth. Those youngsters don’t,” she laughed mildly.

“My lady, you’re love because we can open our mouths and sing in harmony. And this time I sing ‘no’.” I replied.

A pause of silence.

“Fine then,” she dropped it off.

What a nosy woman.

Some days later, while I still got hung up with that phone call, a package arrived at my door. Inside there were an envelope filled with new green notes, a card and a lady’s scarf. The card read a date, time, location and some lines of instruction: “No condom as she is allergic to rubber. The date is safe.”

I threw the whole package into the bin.

What a nosy woman.

But then, just like she had said, we were surprisingly agreeable to each other. Eventually, I was present at the place and by the time stated on the card.

It was a hotel in a popular beach-side city. A middle-class one. Well equipped but not too luxurious that it was suspicious. I checked everything in the room. The bed was the right size, not too big, not too small. Bed sheet was all clean and smell good. There were drinks in the fridge and hot water in the bathroom. Towels were all in place.

I raised the AC’s temperature by two degrees. It was almost the end of the year and the weather was chilling. I wanted it cold in the room so that the human’s warmth was inviting but I didn’t want it freezing that it could kill all the sensations.

The lights were too bright, I think, so I turned off one of them. It would be better with just the bed side lamps but it would be too intimidating.

Too much for a virgin with a stranger.

Alas, everything was in place. I would be sitting in the sofa, casually but otherwise well dressed and blind folded. I would be waiting for the footsteps stopped in front of the door.

A moment of hesitation.

Then came the signaled knocks. Two long taps. Three short taps.

“Please come in,” I said.

Another pause.

Then I heard the lock click and the door slowly turned open.

“I’ll wait in the lobby.” I heard Lily’ familiar voice. Then the door slid closed and the lock clicked again.

The woman made a swallowing sound, walked three steps clumsily and then stopped. Firm, steady footsteps. She was probably not wearing high heels. A standard three-centimeter heeled shoes was my best guess. No rustling sound so she wasn’t wearing a jean. Could be a dress or a soft Western pant. I heard no clacking of any sort, so she wasn’t bringing a hand bag.

The silence went on until she finally spoke.

“Any…body here?” she asked. Her voice was shaking.

“Yes. I am here.” I answered.

“Where… are you?”

I frowned at the question but decided to pass it.

“Where are you?” I asked. “I’ll get you.”

“I’m standing next to the door.” she answered, trying to calm down her voice but it was too obvious that she was regretting stepping into this room.

I stood up and slowly walked to her. This was an unfamiliar room to me after all.

I touched the door and worked my way back to find her. She curled up as a reflex when I gently put my hands on her small shoulder and lead her to the bed. She could barely lift up her feet.

I let her sit on the bed and started to undress my shirt. To my surprise, she began to do the same thing.

“Would you mind if I get on first?” she asked. Her voice was almost inaudible.

I nodded.

“Would you?” she asked again.

“No, please go ahead.” I said.

It took her five minutes to get on the bed. I heard the sound of the blanket being lifted up.

“I’m… I’m done.” she said.

I bet she was still wearing her underwear and was clinging to the blanket as if it could protect her from everything.

Still I didn’t say a word. I threw the shirt down to the floor and went to the other side of the bed. She was caught off guard as I slid under the blanket and held her tight from the front. She almost screamed but I covered her mouth just in time.

“Relax yourself.” I whispered and slowly released her. She loosened body a bit but it went stiff again as I rustled my hand in her hair.

“Easy.” I said again.

I slid my hand down to her cheek. It was then I realized that she was also blindfold. So that explained everything. I couldn’t help a reliving sigh and smiled, but she wouldn’t know that.

I let her head rest on my shoulder. I softly put a kiss on her neck. I didn’t go for the lips. It would be too upfront, too direct and too intimate. We stayed like that for a little while. I gently caressed her back and shoulder, slowly put her lie on the bed.

What came later was something I would never forget. The faint scent of her fragrance, her small round body in my arms, the way her body reacted when I first touched her. I had never served a virgin before. Unlike men who may come for prostitutes while still being in his virginity, women only have the need after they tasted it.

When I came home that day I retrieved the scarf from the bin. I inhaled deeply. Almost nothing was left but I could still feel the faint scent lingering somewhere. It felt nice.

***

I slept with Lily for some times later. I always meant to ask her about that woman, but kept my mouth shut in the end. She also never mentioned about that, as if it had never happened. That was good as it followed my policy, but somehow deep down I felt she was concerned about the matter. And so was I. Sex with her never felt natural anymore. Both of us became stiff, hard and obstructed. The last time we met, all she did was pressing a hard long kiss on my lips, the most passionate one she ever gave.

***

Some years later when I was in the hospital for my medical checkup, I met a boy who had eye problem since birth. A nice kid. He was very bright, even without eyesight. We had a good talk though it was cut short when his mother came to pick him up.

“I’m sorry, did he bother you?” the mother said.

I inhaled mildly at her present. She wore a very nice perfume.

“No, no, not at all.” I smiled. “He’s a great kid. How old is he?”

“He just turned five last month.” She replied.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry but we have to leave. My friend is waiting,” she turned over. “I’m coming! Darling, say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, mister,” the boy said to me.

“Goodbye, kid.”

And with that, we parted our way. I heard the footsteps of mother and son fading into the crowd.

***

I almost hit the nail that day. It was too wild of a guess but the possibility was high. Did you know that scent could evoke memories much strongly than any other senses? I didn’t remember the voice but I knew immediately whose scent that belonged to.

***

“I knew you’d call,” Lily said calmly as she sat in front of me.

“Oh, you did?”

“I saw you the other day.”

“So you were that friend of her.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t know who I am.”

“She didn’t have to.”

“How’d you know that I’d recognize her?”

“She always wore that fragrance. I chose it. The scarf as well.”

“See.”

“The boy is yours.”

“I guessed that much. You tricked me. Big time. Well done.”

“Everything went much more smoothly than I expected.”

“Because I was doing you a favour back then!”

“You doing me a favor by sleeping with a woman I set you up? C’mon! That’s what you called you doing me a favor?!”

“You asked me to! Even intimidated me into doing it!”

“Right! But I expected you would deny it eventually! Guess I didn’t understand you very well.”

“No, you didn’t! And why me?”

“I loved her. She wanted a child. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you. So at least I wanted a part of you with the one I loved.”

She said it all as easy as a breath.

“Did you… love me?”

Lily paused for a second.

“Does it matter now? I wanted you, quite strongly I must admit. I didn’t like the idea of you sleeping with other women. I had to play cool with it because otherwise I couldn’t stay beside you. I had wanted to make you quit this job you were doing but didn’t know how to. Any wrong move would drift me apart from you so I decided to stand still. If that sounds like a love concept to you then yes, I loved you.”

“You left eventually.”

She exhaled deeply.

“That was a miscalculation. I thought I would be fine with it. But no, I wasn’t. I felt betrayed although it was me who brought in that betrayal. Besides, I could tell that you’d grown interested in her, which of course intensified my jealousy greatly. So I left you. I didn’t want to but I have to. For the best of both of us. Or all of us.”

I looked at Lily. I had never seen her, I couldn’t, but now I did, clearly. The prideful woman was too tough to fall in love, yet loved with all her heart and mind while running away from it. The manipulative one who always thought she knew the best.

I hated to admit but she was right. About all this. Yes, I would have stayed away from her had I known she loved me. Yes, I had grown fond of that woman, just like she said. And yes, it was best for all of us if we never stepped on each other’s lives.

I reached out to her. My hands found her neck, her lips her cheeks, her eyes, and then embracing her whole body. I inhaled her scent. I touched her skin. I heard her breathing. And I tasted her lips. Still as sweet as ever. That was what I owned her: a kiss. Raw and honest.

“Say you love me,” she said in her breath.

“I love you.”

“Thank you.”

 Any
2011-08-27

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Locked

Posted: June 10, 2011 | Author: LA | Filed under: English, Short Stories | Leave a comment »

LOCKED

Summer days are hot. But when the night comes, when you are out of the four brick walls, it always feels cool. Cool, as in hot and cool.

But it’s also cool as in, you know, cool.

I always like isolation. I like the night, when it’s dark and I only see myself. I like being alone, although I don’t like being lonely. It’s a contrary although it shouldn’t be, you know, as we have alone and lonely with different meanings in the dictionary.

It’s not that easy in the reality though, I mean, being alone without being lonely.

What am I feeling now?

Well, I don’t care.

Do you like the scene where you are on top of a really tall building, at night, alone? Imagine this. The breeze is chilling, and the light, the night light, is fantastic. You stand above everything, looking down. The city’s activities are fading, and you’re not part of it. I hope you do, because I really do. Just the thought of it excites me, especially when I want to retreat from something.

The first time I put my feet on top of a building at night, it feels just like I imagine. The wind, the scenery, the isolation. Some people would like to scream, but that’d be too much for me. I’ve never had the urge to cry out loud for anything. Anything.

Although I think maybe I should have.

The city where I live doesn’t have the most breath-taking night view. I’m okay with that. I just feel grand standing real high and look down at the oblivious lumps of light.

I don’t know you. You don’t know me.

I open the suitcase and carefully lift the pistol. It’s something I come to possess by accident. One day, while I was parking on the roadside behind a big van, there was an accident out there. Big one, you know, where everybody involved charged into each other and cried and swore that they would kill each other. The police were there, of course, but the situation was so serious that they got pulled into it. Or something like that. I was witnessing everything by ears because the van blocked my sight, but I think that was pretty much of it. Then I heard something was sliding on the ground, towards me. I looked down. It was a pistol. It must have been thrown out during the fight. Maybe someone tried to take the gun. Whatever. I picked the gun up without hesitation. I didn’t think much. I just picked it up and drove away.

As soon as I got home, I put it away in an empty suitcase. Just like that. I vaguely knew what I should do with it, but the idea hadn’t crossed my mind clearly until recently.

I hold the gun gently. The only think I know about guns is pull the trigger. Craps like safety lock and gun cocking are shown a thousand times on movies but it actually doesn’t teach me what to do with the gun. I don’t dare to mess around the gun. If a bullet is out and I’m not dead, I don’t know what I will have to face.

I try to hold the gun like, you know, who people usually hold guns. It doesn’t feel right. My hand is actually a big small for the handle. But I can manage that.

I rest the gun next to my temple. I take a deep breath. We always take a deep breath before we do something big, hoping that it will calm us down. It does, for some seconds, but that’s it.

I only take a deep breath because I’m supposed to. You know, kinda like a reflex in such situation.

I’m calm. Totally calm. No, actually I’m a bit excited. I’m always excited with extraordinary things. It certainly isn’t extraordinary in America where guns are available for sale. But here? No, I don’t think you’ve heard of many suicide cases by a gun.

Drowning, hanging, jumping, sleeping pills, car crash, all seems painful ways to die. I’ve always thought dying by a bullet in your head is probably the easiest and instant death you can have. I’m a coward because I want to take my life, but I can’t take my life because I’m coward, I’m too afraid of the pain death will bring to me before death takes me away.

It must be God’s will to put a gun in my hand so that I can put a bullet in my head.

I pull the trigger.

I hear a clack sound from the gun.

And that’s all.

The gun is locked.

I collapse on the floor laughing. I’m still alive because my execution instrument didn’t do its job. And it’s actually something I have thought of. I knew there was a high possibility that the gun was locked, I just didn’t know how to unlock it. Or maybe I didn’t want to know. I was taking a bet. I said to myself if the gun was indeed locked, then it must be God’s will that I’m to live.

Then I should leave this place and go home and continue to live because God didn’t want me to die. I should take the gun to the police office and tell them that I found this thing on the street. Just in case, I’ll have to wipe clean my finger prints.

There’s a line saying “When faced with two choices, simply toss a coin. It works not because it settles the question for you but because in that brief moment when the coin is in the air, you suddenly know what you are hoping for.” When the gun clacked and the bullet didn’t drill into my skin and bones, I knew what I was hoping for.

This is probably not something I like but it’s something that will help me achieve what I want. My whole life I’ve been avoiding things I don’t like and never get to things I want. For one last time I want to try my best.

I jump.

From the high stand I’ve always stood, from the isolated place I couldn’t get out, I jump. I jump down. I jump into the life I’m never a part of.

The first and last time.

Any
2011-06-10

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