The PainterUpon exiting the elevator, I went looking for his unit among the doors lined along the wood tiled corridor. Then one opened a few feet behind me and he called out my name.
The whole space is adorned with what must be his paintings. He was wearing jeans and a shirt with no footwear on. The condo unit must have at least two bedrooms, one of which we went into quietly. The wall-to-ceiling glass window provided a nice view of the mess that is Mandaluyong.
I expected more from this little rendezvous. He was nice, but not really my type. It’s hard to focus when you’re thinking of someone else.
Not even 30 minutes later, we came sneaking out of the room. On his doorway, he attempted to kiss me. But I avoided it. He was puzzled.
"Not yet," I said. He had a hint of a smile on his face.
I never should have kissed him in the first place.
The walk of shame along EDSA was hot, exhausting, sweaty.
I didn't have anything to do so I headed to Robinson's Pioneer. I wandered for a couple of minutes before deciding to go grocery shopping.
At around 5 pm, I went home with toilet paper, detergent, canned goods, etc in tow.
The Chef (Yet Again)
Tired and uncertain about what to do next, I received a text message from The Chef which was surprising.
"Hey," it read.
I replied asking him what he's up to then continued to watch the TV from my bed.
About half an hour later, I was in a cab on the way to his place.
Fifteen minutes passed with me waiting outside the 7 Eleven across where he’s staying. I jumped into his truck and almost immediately thereafter, he squeezed my chest and asked how I’m doing. I love the naughtiness of this guy.
He’s been very busy (he’s opening up a new restaurant). He claimed it has been impossible for him to meet up with guys lately. I don’t know if I believe this.
There he was, in his snug jeans and button-down shirt, the sleeves of which bunched up because of his toned biceps. While waiting for the elevator, we looked at each other knowingly. I
wanted to go for the kill right then and there. But decency prevailed.
Just like the last time, he was eager and hungry. We had to hurry up though because his niece, who is temporarily staying with him, was on her way home.
Between the frenzy of getting dressed up as fast as possible, I kissed him by his doorway. “Gusto ko pa,” he groaned. I chuckled. Gawd, if only we had more time.
I went out first and waited for him at the lobby as he had instructed. I didn’t see the point, but I sat on the couch anyway observing the atmosphere of the posh, amber-lit receiving area.
Patiently and comfortably, I waited for a good thirty minutes. He didn’t pick up his phone nor answered my text so I decided to leave and walk to Powerplant Mall.
It was good seeing him again.
P.S.
I walked around the mall for a bit and was able to check out the shops with restraint. After buying a pore strip from Bench and dropping by the chapel, I scoured the damn mall for a copy of Plant Magazine. I'm glad to finally have a copy. It's very concise yet entertaining.
It's Cecile Zamora Van Struttin' on the cover!
Biyaheng Rockwell
Manila Makulay indeed.
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