It seemed to have become a stereotype for all couples that when an outside observer gets to know that this man and this woman are in a relationship, then they have already been in bed together.
Chloe was aware of this, but dropped it as insane. It was a matter of control, she had said. She had been in a relationship with an architect three years her senior, named Jack, and for once they had never had sex nor contemplated to slip into one. She had told him, even made him promise, that he would wait for the time of their marriage before they’d try it for themselves. The man listened to her and he promised to wait. For three years since that he had been true to that promise.
Chloe had just graduated College and had already landed a job less than a month after her school. A large company had hired her as a Human Resource officer. Pay was good. Enough for her family, and for her savings come the day she and Jack should decide to get married.
Marriage was a thing itself. Back when she was still in school, and Jack was still a newly-graduated Architecture degree-holder, they had joked about when each of them would like to get married. Jack preferred the ages twenty-seven or eight. But Chloe wanted it when she turns thirty or one. At the current time, that was still a good ten years in the future. Jack found it a very long of a wait, but, as her lips pouted and her eyes dimmed a frown, he said he was willing to while the time with her.
“A kiss will do, honey,” he had said.
And she laughed.
Jack’s work had been a boom for the succeeding months, and his pay had risen like the hairline of the president. He had renovated his parents’ house and was eventually thinking of building one for himself (and for Chloe as well). He had stretched out his savings like a balloon and spent much of the amount that fell out as “excess” on Chloe. Soon, as the supply had proved to be considerably far off from his demand, he decided to buy a car.
The car became a necessary property for the two in the long run, since they had been going on dates before part pedestrians, part commuters. The convenience had made them go to many places to while away time in the arms of each other. Somehow that had made their relationship more intact and more memorable. They had more time to think of where they would go than how they would go there.
So this went on for the months that followed, as well as the age of these two lovers. And along with the trickling of age goes the growth of curiosity and boldness.
He wanted it. She was not sure.
There was this renowned motorists’ hotel on a certain street not far off from the house of Chloe. It was renowned, and had a deal of a reputation. Its name became somewhat synonymous of a one-stop sex crib for those couples who didn’t have a room for themselves in their own house. By saying “get a room,” you are actually saying “go to Q—”
The entrance of this establishment was through a vehicle—a cab, a private car, a motorcycle. Entrance by foot was not an option. That is part one of the expense if you don’t have a private vehicle. A taxi flagdown rate is forty and three per drip. So you enter a slot that was basically the main door of this establishment, and bla-bla-bla. Go there and know for yourself.
It started as a joke. He dropped it on her, and as jokes go, she laughed heartily at it, spanking his arm playfully along. But soon the joke gradually turned into a little serious invitation. And time and time it became more persuasive per instance. There’s a way with women that majority don’t really show to their men. A complete nod was all that was left for them to drive the road, enter the portal, and get a room for themselves. And she was near into nodding.
What had happened to “A kiss will do, honey” and his promises of waiting till she turned thirty or one? All of that was apt to vanish. Now. Now that she had finally complied with the invitation.
Like a mad beast, he drove the car out of his garage and positioned it to an easy access for Chloe. He honked and honked and pounced the horn because she was staying too long inside the house. What’s taking her so long? he thought.
Relax Mr. Man. Relax.
Soon she came out of the door and timidly took a couple of steps forward. That had brought her halfway of the path toward him. He was beckoning her to hop in the car. She was solemnly trying to hold on with her compliance. He wanted it. She was not sure.
But she walked on. She was looking at him with a nervous face, hesitantly implying to him that perhaps he could just forget what agreement she had given to him. But his face had pulled it back. There was an unusual excitement in it, his eyes were gleaming, mad, blissful. Boys will be boys. She finished off the path and stood by the door of the car, which was already opened since she had appeared by the door of the house. She slipped herself inside and quietly seated, slowly taking a deep breath.
“Are you ready?” Jack asked.
“I…I…I guess…so—” She left her answer phonetically hanging. But he seemed to have no mind in waiting for whatever she was going to add. The car was already braced to run.
The car darted through the busy, entwining streets. Every stop before a red light, Jack would glance at Chloe and smile. She would smile back but it was a forced one, something to relieve the man and assure him that everything was just fine. Nothing is fucking fine! her mind seemed to scream. But the smile kept occurring in her face every time he did.
“Let’s get some music, Chloe,” he said after a while.
“Okay.” Timidly.
He reached for the built-in radio of the car and switched it on. The first song that whiffed through was Freestyle’s “So Slow.”
I’ve been with you boy
Three years is quite a while
But getting too sensual
Is really not my style—
The song went on, and the air of awkwardness filled the gap between them.
“We can…change the station.”
“Okay.” Timidly.
“I…I have that song in my phone…you know what…”
She just nodded softly.
He pushed the next button and the station changed. The song that replaced the previous one was a disco music from some mainstream American artist. It made both of them smile, with Chloe still a forced one.
A little later they had finally reached the dim entrance of the motorists’ hotel. They were led directly to a parking lot and were ushered to a room. No frontdesk whatsoever. Straight to the room. Furtive. Planned out. Safe?
Once inside and left on their own, Jack was starting to kiss Chloe in the mouth. She succumbed, but clearly without passion. She was just freely giving up her lips to this man she had loved, she had planned out a future with, she had made to wait, she had made to promise.
They fell toward the bed on their buttocks, seating. He was still hovering his lips to hers, and while that was happening, his hands were starting to slide down on her arms. Down. Down.
She was still moving without any blaze, without any passion. Her mind was a mixture of chaotic thoughts and emotions.
What is happening? Why am I letting this go on? Why am I not fighting over my right to a perfect timing? We had planned something like this. But not now. Not in this hellhole.
Her tears trickled down her face and some of them fell straight to that of Jack. He felt it, the warmth of it, maybe even the screams trapped in it that were as well trapped inside her heart. He did not know what it meant. The feeling was somehow piercing his very own heart. He stopped.
“What is the matter, Chloe?” He looked at her face and there, the face that she had been trying to conceal.
“This is not supposed to happen now, Jack. This is wrong.” Her voice was broken, a tone beyond emotional breakdown.
“Chloe—”
“You promised me, Jack. You promised me.”
He looked at her in a face that was in between of pity and getting angry. Because she should have refused him in the first place! But he realized he could not blame her. And in the end the bigger fault was still his. He indeed made a promise. As a man, he did.
“I am sorry, Jack. I am very sorry.” She could not help herself. Down the bed she fell and cried like a little baby, cried like she had never cried before.
The thoughts that roamed her mind were obscure thoughts. They seemed to be getting nowhere discernible. She was hating him, yet she was not. She was hating herself, but she could not. She wanted to run, but her feet would not let her, and later she realized her mind and her heart also would not let her do. She wanted to stay, be inside the room, under the lights—cry!
And then a music began to whiff into the serene and cold air.
Let’s take it slow, so slow
Anywhere you wanna go—
And a hand slipped above her shoulder—a warm hand, a hand she was most familiar.
“Let’s dance, honey.”
She looked up and saw the smiling face of Jack, and she smiled too. There had always been something in that smile that had consistently flushed a wave in the own creases of her lips, pushing them to a width. Always. Always.
“Jack,” was all she could say.
And through the end of the song they swayed together, like a dance to a soft music in a JS Promenade. The minutes turned into years and fell back. They felt young again. They felt their love becoming anew and strong. And their promises, his promises, went forth between them again. As they danced, the slow images of tomorrow came past them, and they smiled.
Softly in her ears he whispered, “A kiss will do, honey.”
And they kissed till their lips felt numb.
No comments:
Post a Comment