Content Warning: Contains mature themes, some coarse language, and depictions of an explicit/sexual nature. Not for children. Heck, even some adults might not be able to handle this!
An Erotica Parody, by Solomon Li. A/N: This is the ‘clean’ version, where I have decided to make it a little less explicit- I realised that as a rom-com writer, I just don’t have the heart of a spicy content author. There’s even less spice now than there was before, so apologies if you were looking for typical material… I guess you could say the real erotica was the reader who really got f*cked by the author along the way!
Disclaimer: All characters in the novel are entirely fictional, and any resemblances to real life persons is purely coincidental. All pop-culture references and quotes, mentions of locations, and music/film/artist references, are the intellectual property of their respective owners, which are not intended to be infringed upon, having been applied under Fair Use conditions. This story is an original narrative that takes place in the broader narrative of Solomon Li’s Osaka-verse, who maintains all copyright associated with his respective works.
A very free-spirited and clever young lady, Becky seems quite sexually empowered at first glance, but is revealed to be as insecure about her place in life as any other person in the modern world. Especially when she decides to become an escort out of necessity!
She encounters Thomas again, who has returned from a desert sabbatical, and become a darker, sombre (though still quirky), and more alluring person to the initially curious Becky. They enter a “sweetly professional” relationship which becomes complicated as they begin developing unclear feelings regarding what they’re missing in themselves, and whether or not the void within themselves can be filled by the other.
Solomon Li’s conventional romance style integrates erotica, but the story is determined to highlight the philosophical side of desire, self-worth, and solace in human companionships.
Foreword and Acknowledgements
Someone dared me to make philosophy sexy, and gave me a certain timeframe to accomplish this risqué task. That someone, was me.
When I first approached the idea of writing a more [physically] sensual novel, my initial impression was to reject it, as I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of being associated with something that resembled erotic literature- I suppose it could be considered akin to an actress weighing the pros and cons of doing porn, just once, to pay the bills (which is an ironic slippery slope if there ever was one). Yet, in doing so, I was forced to confront my way of thinking as being too rigid and conservative, which would not be very becoming of my Way; after some thought, I realised that instead of approaching this as ‘reaching for low hanging fruit’, I could aspire to create a very tasteful fruit salad, maybe even sneak some healthier vegetables as well. Instead of dismissing an unappealing impression, I could challenge myself to find new dimensions in a genre that is not my usual literary forte. Realising I needed to take this challenge in stride, I shelved the spiritual/philosophical masterpiece I was working on, Make Up for the Soul (the chronological predecessor of this one), in order to set my sights and energies on exploring the underlying nuances of sexual gratification, and I was determined that if possible it must be classy and elegant!
Thusly began my untitled project dubbed ‘A 50 Shades meets Jane Austen Parody’, which eventually dropped the flimsy veil of a parody and became a full-fledged modern romance in its own right. I am rather proud of Ego and Eccentricity: the finished product affably reminds me of a hypothetical porno directed by the supremely talented Tina Fey (I have loved 30 Rock even to this day). I have included research, anecdotes, monologues, anxieties, and coping mechanisms, as well all the charm I could muster in my main characters, and I was satisfied to have weaved a certain degree of realism with characters from my previous works, as well as newly crafted ones that may prove as useful as Becky did in my future/ongoing projects. Perhaps what I loved most about writing this was being able to weave deeply emotional scenes that a lot of people could somewhat identify with, even it is only in passing!
Despite my research, investigation, and countless interviews with professionals, the story surprisingly strays away from the escorting route, and I don’t actually delve into that many escorting practices. Please understand that the characters developed themselves in a certain way, and the story seemed insistent that Becky not continue pursuing such a controversial career after she meets Thomas; they enter a sugar daddy/baby relationship, which is not quite the same as escorting, and pays less overall (according to my sources). Perhaps in the near future I will make a series about another girl in the novel who seemed to have a flair for it, and we can explore that avenue then.
Of course, this project would not be possible without a variety of muses/tutors who were instrumental towards character concepts, plot lines, and ambient world building: the clandestine nuances of atmosphere (in a sub-culture) is almost always going to influence how different characters contrast or assimilate into their respective societies. As an author who is still a mere novice in the world of desires and kinks, I would like to extend my humblest gratitude to the following sources for their inspiration, their openness and willingness to educate me on niche topics, as well as their accommodation in my moments of naivete throughout the entire research process.
It is with great delight that I acknowledge:
- The staff and patrons of Akademi Small Bar, a kink friendly establishment which not only has a most delightfully puntastic choice of beverages, but also hosts a variety of events celebrating sexualities and romantic spectrums. I am particularly indebted to the various models, such as Paranoir, who inspired some of my poetry with their respective raw passion/energies.
- The assortment of wonderful acquaintances I’ve made in the Sex Industry. Some of these I’d like to thank specifically are; Princess Disney (an obvious pseudonym of a pseudonym), whose patience, professionalism, and experience allowed me to further collate my research on the world of escorts. I also want to thank Sierra Pines, or more precisely, her blog, So Sayeth the Wench, which I recommend for the saucy wit and upfront grit regarding her work as an escort. If anyone wishes to take an academic approach to the entrepreneurship side of escorting, please check out Isabella Fox, on YouTube, whose classes I’d attend if she were my lecturer.
- Of course, where would we all be, without the timeless portrayals of Julia Richards and Richard Gere from Pretty Woman? Their dynamic was something that predates my Ego and Eccentricity.
- Naomi Wolf, author of The Beauty Myth, and Promiscuities: A Secret History of Female Desire, specifically the latter which bolstered my confidence at writing with a central female character. While it is true that I have many sisters, nieces, and female friends/lovers (past and present), Naomi Wolf presented an undeniably frank and wise perspective regarding how sexuality differs between the sexes, which provided more than a little support when it came to fleshing out the character of Becky, and her interactions.
- Lastly, but not least, I must give credit the young lady who originally inspired the idea of ‘Becky’, and featured in my debut novel Osaka Sunset. I had no idea she would end up receiving her own spin-off novel years later, and am glad we stayed friends for so long. Of course, it is important to remember that the novel is fictional, and as such, Becky is not a real person, merely a character who owes her creation to an author’s inspired imagination. I will also add that Becky’s various depictions actually draw from several of my romantic experiences with different girls I loved in each their own idiosyncratic way. For the sake of practicality, I would never be able to give them open credit, but if anyone believes that a certain scene was based off their own interactions with me, I am simply happy to know that the story was able to invoke such responses from you. It is my policy to maintain, until your death, that nothing we shared together is in any of my works, and everything I craft is an original creation.
I must also express gratitude to the following sources for their contributions to my work, not so much in the story crafting, but in their support, encouragement, and tolerance for my writing habits.
- A particular 24/7 McDonalds, which I frequented during the early stages of my novel, as it provided me with a location that supplied both good food and atmosphere. The staff never kicked me out or questioned why I spent hours sitting and writing/typing, which is much appreciated!
- My dear friends Courtney, Cait, James, Dan, Kevin, Jakov, Tyler, Ray, Denyse, and a few others who prefer to remain anonymous, all offering their emotional/metal support, sympathies during my moods, and even helped with reviewing my work.
- The music of the 80’s, which provided some wonderful inspirational tracks to listen to as the story fermented in my mental distillery.
My Final Thoughts
Ultimately, this is a love story, but one with a slow burn that flares up when the more passionate scenes unfold: yes, I did enjoy teasing the audience, so forgive me if I left anyone feeling short-changed in some of the chapters. It may be surprising to the attentive reader that we don’t get any actual depictions of sex until closer to a third of the way into the novel, but that is what makes for good erotica and suspense in this author’s opinion- the smut junkies out there will surely disagree. However, it is that very anticipation which creates the best mindscapes for enjoying any kind of fantasy scenario, be it real life or fiction, and just like one of the key topics of this book, we should let our [creative] juices flow when getting involved with particularly resonating scenes. Hopefully none of the sex detracts from the sexuality; it really was not my intention to make Ego and Eccentricity about cheap thrills, but to evoke a deeper appreciation for how companionship can be expressed and validated without getting physically naked… it’s also about how willing we are to bare our vulnerabilities to others, leaving one more exposed than merely removing fabrics from our bodies. All the same, may you all enjoy awesome sex, if that’s your kind of thing, and continue to learn about who you are in this crazy modern world!
Yours Solemnly,
Solomon Li.
Chapter 1: Making Ends Meet
‘Le Victor’ had bad phone reception, but perhaps that’s what happens when you build a club underground. While it was tastefully decorated, there was nothing out of the ordinary at this venue, where two young ladies in their early twenties were steadily becoming intoxicated by the mirth of music and ambrosia. All around them, surrounded by the flashing lights, the steady, powerful cadence of club music permeated the bones of all the patrons. Especially those who had decided to sit too close to the stage, or to the various subwoofers scattered around. These two girls had nestled rather comfortably in a semi-circular groove that gave them a view of the stage and bar, while still allowing them to converse somewhat. As was typical for persons of their age, frequenting such a location, the topic of conversation mainly ranged from their love lives to their financial problems.
It is a Truth commonly believed, that a young lady with money troubles can always do something to alleviate that problem, and even in the modern world, with all its modern opportunities, that something usually involved their bodies. Specifically, their naked bodies. While she had never needed to screw her landlord in order to make rent, or sell her used lingerie, Rebecca was in a somewhat dire situation, and treading water would only postpone the inevitable. That was when her lifelong bestie, Natasha, came up with what seemed like a brilliant idea at 2am, when they were both rather plastered from alcoholic drinks. However, after determining that losing a kidney (along with several other organs) would only introduce more problems later on, they would eventually both come to another, inebriated, epiphany.
“Taaasha, giiirrl, you think I’m HOT, right?!”
“Bitch, you smokin’! I’d defs sleep with you, like, if we didn’t, like, know each other, or grew up together… ya feelin’ me???”
“Totally, I feel ya!”
“Not if I feel ya first! Gargh!” Playfully, Tasha started clutching at her friend’s arms and belly, before lightly pawing at her ample bosom, which caused Becky to retaliate, tickling the other girl’s vulnerable thighs, causing a giddy shriek that was mostly deafened by the loud music, although a few looks were briefly directed their way. Calming down a little, Tasha rebuked Becky for exploiting her most sensitive exposed area, pretending to whine about it,
“Hey, no fair, you know I’m ticklish there! You need to pay if you want access to my thicc thighs, Becky!”
“I bet a lot of people would pay to get an all-access pass there… we could make a fortune, but you keep letting them in for free ahahah!” Becky was only teasing, as she would never pejoratively call Tasha a slut and besides, the girl enjoyed it too much to be shamed for it. Tasha, clearly not offended anyway, ran with the concept and drunkenly added,
“Duh! That’d solve all our money problems waaay too easily! … Wait a girl, no wait, I mean, girl… wait a minute, that’s it!”
The implication set in, and after a moment Becky could see that Tasha no longer considered it just drunken silliness. She exclaimed,
“Hang on, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting!? No! No way, girl!” The grin on Becky’s face was fading, but the wild expression on Tasha’s face grew more devilish as she entertained the notion. In a more even, almost sober, tone, she elaborated on the proposal,
“Why not? You’re young and hot, I’m younger and hotter, we both need a little extra cash, and it’s not like we’re saving ourselves for Prince Charming, right?” Becky pretended not to notice the dig, and responded with,
“Haw haw. Bitch please: we’re equally hot, even if you are a little younger than me- by a few weeks! Okay, so maybe we can get a little slutty, and rightly proud of it yeah, but even so, we be ethical sluts! The kinds who reclaim that word from the Patriarchy… Becoming one of those girls… it’s just, I dunno, I’m not really sure…”
In her mind, there was a definite line between having fun and exploring herself sexually, as opposed to selling herself in a sexual way. The latter just felt a little wrong, despite the fact that she knew quite a few girls who sold themselves sexually (either online, in person, or via phone sex hotlines), and almost all of them had steady partners too; whether or not the partners knew was another matter, to be addressed at another time. All the same, she was a proud girl, and had never needed to go so far to make ends meet. Things were actually manageable before she and Tasha got the bad news: their rent had gone up, and the other girl who had been their flatmate suddenly got herself engaged. She’d be moving out to stay with her former-boyfriend-turned-fiancé in a few weeks, though the wedding wasn’t until next year. Good for her, bad for them, and with Becky’s commitments right now, she couldn’t exactly afford to uproot herself at the drop of hat, not when you considered bond, the hassle of paperwork, screening for new flatmates, and just the general bother of being inconvenienced, which was so rude, of course!
Thinking about the pros and cons of moonlighting as a sex worker was causing her to feel uncomfortable, a sharp break from their little reverie, so she abruptly cut off her best friend, who was trying, and failing, to come up with some tasteful aliases,
“Becky, how about we name ourselves after our favourite Diney princesses?!” With a sigh, Becky sidestepped Tasha with,
“We’ll talk about it if we remember it in the morning, ‘kay? Remember, that’s IF we remember it!”
“OK, I knew you’d come around girl! Let’s grab a drink to celebrate- next rounds are on those cute guys watching us at the bar over there. Wanna keep playing our usual game?”
It was a challenge, innocent enough, but a challenge directed at Becky nonetheless. This old game was simple: see who could score more free drinks than the other in one night, and tonight’s record had Tasha ahead by two drinks- the only stipulation of the game was that they had to state they ‘already had boyfriends’, which was never true, but it screened many hoping to score with them while the girls themselves were scoring free drinks. This would probably be Becky’s last chance to turn the tide around before it got too late, so even though her heart wasn’t entirely in it, she feigned enthusiasm. Nodding, she exclaimed,
“Game on, girl!”
There wasn’t too much to say after this point, only that she remembered little else of the evening except for that controversial money-making idea, and that one of the guys really hit it off with Tasha, even paying for the Uber back to their apartment. Did Tasha reveal the truth about being single? It was up to anyone’s speculation whether or not she neglected to disclose that information, but hey, it wasn’t as if she was the one cheating on their partner, right? Becky was glad she lost consciousness the moment her head hit the pillow, because Tasha was not a shy girl, and the walls of their home were not the most sound-proof. She thought to herself, as she drifted away into oblivion,
So, this is it, back to the single gal life again…with all the glamour… Hell, if I still remember it tomorrow, why not try and make some cash while I’ve still got my looks!? Okay, I’ll talk to Tasha about it later…
To present a first impression is almost tantamount to telling a lie, because first impressions are often notoriously wrong. While Rebecca enjoyed having fun, celebrating all the joys of being young and attractive, it would be a mistake to think of her as just another shallow bimbo, a mistake that had cost several lads their chances with her. Natasha had taken her out to get over her negative funk, as any true friend would, and so they had both gotten a little plastered as a means of Becky’s catharsis. It was all his fault! Wayne, or “Sir Gawain” as she affectionately once called him, had been her boyfriend for the last two years, and she once really thought he was going to propose to her (one day, eventually, when he struck it big), before finding out he had been cheating on her for approximately a third of the time. She confronted him about it, initially believing it to be a one-time thing, something that he corroborated as a mistake from a pushy siren. At first, it seemed as if they could work things out- a stupid idea, she thought bitterly, as she reminisced over what happened afterwards. Sweet words were exchanged, promises and assurances were made, and some very passionate make-up sex transpired, seemingly a triumph for true love in the modern age!
Of course, it lasted about a fortnight, before he went back to his old ways, which she only discovered because the girl he was two-timing her with was also being two-timed, with a different girl… said girl appeared on Becky’s doorstep right as she was about to help herself to a lunch of leftover quiche. Initially, she felt a particular murderous urge towards the other girl standing before her, perhaps as a result of hangriness. Soon, however, she found herself developing some sympathy as the other sobbed ever so apologetically, claiming that she was unaware Wayne was attached, and that she herself was being toyed with, which resulted in more tears being shed. That was the final straw for Becky. Ushering the poor girl out, to back to wherever the hell her home was, Rebecca was on the warpath: she got dressed to go out, and headed towards Wayne’s place.
Despite knowing what she had to do, Becky was filled with dread as she waited for him, especially as the initial anger wore off. Without meaning to, Becky had probably made a few guys on the bus cry on their online forums later that day, and when she caught a sight of her reflection the stony rage was replaced with a more stoic, less intense, expression. The cheating dirt bag’s housemates seemed almost apologetic as they let her into the living room, almost as if they knew about what was going on, but the Bro-Code forbade them from explicitly saying anything as they treated her nicely, even offering various drinks/snacks; reheated pizza and packaged chips with soda were not what she considered very fine fare, but the gesture was appreciated, and helped to steady her increasingly jittery nerves, as well as pent-up rage. It occurred to her that perhaps Wayne would just avoid the place, but his housemates, growing uncomfortable with her icy presence, likely suggested that he come home and face the music- ironic, for an aspiring musician. When he did arrive, with that now obviously fake smile, she was not impressed, and quietly followed him to his room where they could speak with the illusion of privacy, though she dimly thought she heard the housemates quickly vacating the place. Maybe this had happened before, with another girl, and with a nuclear aftermath? He tried to be charming with her,
“Hey girl, it’s not like you to surprise me! What’s the matter?”
She glared at Him-Who-Was-Still-Playing-Innocent, and then, in a quiet tone that meant business, she decided to elaborate on her visit,
“Oh, yeah, you know how I am with surprises. In fact, I’ve been getting so many lately, I just thought I’d give it a try too! How do you do it so easily, huh?! You lying, cheating son of a bitch, how the hell could you think I wouldn’t find out!?”
He quickly dropped the act, and to her dismay, spoke to her rather dispassionately as he reframed the situation,
“Look, Rebecca, don’t bring my mum into this, she likes you… I already explained- I have a very non-conformist view of love, that’s just how I am! Do you expect me to change that about myself, just to try and fit in with how the world believes I should act? You’re being irrational, asking waaay too much. We’re living in a different time now, and maybe you’re still stuck in the fairy tales of the past, but these days we shouldn’t shame others for trying to be themselves. You know I care about you more than those other floozies, and I thought you understood that too! Don’t you accept me for me?! Okay, I’m sorry, I made a mistake: but I only said I would try to work on it, which isn’t making me happy either, you know? And as a guy, I am biologically hardwired to want to sleep with different girl- so what? I can still choose to be with you. So why can’t you just relax and let this go, huh?” It was a masterpiece of Gaslighting 101, and while many girls might have fallen for it, Becky was not other girls.
“Nice speech! How long have you been rehearsing it?!”
She huffed, and puffed, and pulled away when he tried to caress her. He simply continued his even tone, reminding her of all they had been through, and in a moment of weakness she let her guard down. Becky looked directly into his dreamy eyes, revealing how vulnerable she was, and seeing this, he tried to kiss her. He got close too, and if he had managed to make contact, it would have likely perpetuated her self-destructive cycle of dating him. However, Fate had chosen to intervene with a timely phone call. Her eyes flickered over to his screen before he could shut it off, and the caller ID displayed a girl’s name: Jessica. It wasn’t the name of any of the other girls who Becky knew he had been messing around with. Although it wasn’t a certainty that he was sleeping with this girl too, it was enough to regain her original perspective in coming here, and she told him, quite flatly,
“Is Jessica nice? Would I like her? I don’t care- it’s over between us. Do whatever you want, creep.”
Refusing to hear any more, she left him, both figuratively and literally, never looking back as she exited the place, no matter how much he called out to her.
The next few days were filled with eating ice cream and other such indulgences of kummerspeck, a German word she had learned about in one of her social science classes, as well as just general bitching about Wayne to Natasha and Kristina, who were nothing but supportive and equally vindictive as they called him all sorts of derogatory terms. Natasha also revealed that Wayne had once tried to come on to her at a Christmas party last year, but as they were all at least a little tipsy she had simply brushed it off as festive passion. Expecting some backlash, she was surprised that Becky didn’t try to reproach her for not saying anything, and in a rather sorrowful tone she expressed that it was her own fault for being blind to his indiscretions.
“You know, it’s weird, I look back on how handsome and charming I thought he was, with his long hair and carefree grin, like a rock star. But in the end, I was just being used like a groupie, like those other girls, even if they don’t know it yet. God, I was so stupid! You know, I even lent the bastard a couple of thousand from my savings, when he said he needed help with band overheads or something, and it’s not like I’m getting that back any time soon… At least we don’t need the money right now, hey, Tasha?” Katrina had gone to bed an hour ago, but Tasha was still with her in the living room, and now an eerie silence overcame her normally animated friend.
“Er…” Worried, but as of yet unawares, Becky prodded her.
“Tasha?! What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Guiltily, Tasha averted her gaze, and then faced Becky, placatingly trying to explain,
“Okay, Becky, don’t get mad please, but there was something I’ve been holding off from telling you, at least until you were properly done venting over Wayne. Um, our rent went up. Yeah, by a LOT. And we have less than 2 months before our lease expires and we need to renew it, so at that point we either sign up for another six months, with money I’m assuming you, and I, don’t have… OR, we try and find another spot before then.”
Becky reeled from the revelation, but managed to stay calm, somewhat. It wasn’t that bad, right? So what if their rent was going up a little? Feeling the need to refocus the situation, she blurted out,
“What!? Okay, okay, relax; with you and Krissy, we can still make it work, right?” More silence from Tasha prompted Becky to exclaim,
Right?!” Seeing the apprehension on Tasha’s face, Becky inwardly groaned, bracing herself. Tasha then dropped more reality bombs,
“Well, actually, that’s kinda the problem- Krissy is getting engaged. She’s moving out when the lease expires.” Freaking out, Becky was pushed to her limits of unwanted surprises, bellowing,
“WHAT!? Why didn’t she tell me- oh, right, because I’ve been so upset…” With the situation sinking in, Tasha felt a little more at ease knowing that there weren’t any other kinds of revelations like the previous ones. Trying to be nice, she told Becky,
“Yeah, I guess she didn’t want to rub it in… just saying, with your life, when it rains it pours, hey?” She said it resignedly, but Becky still needed time to process things, asking,
“Well, what are we gonna do!? I can’t just up and leave! This place was perfect: close to my work and only 10 minutes away from my uni, it’s why we chose it. Gargh, why is the Universe dumping shit on me like this?!” Wincing, Tasha was sad to see how it affected Becky, saying.
“Hey, I don’t like it anymore than you do! But we’re not going to let this bring us down! I’ve been looking at a few places for us since you’ve been out of commission…”
“…And?” Becky was hopeful, as Tasha could be very resourceful when she put her mind to it. Unfortunately, even a resourceful girl like Tasha couldn’t beat the housing market, as she revealed,
“Zilch. Sorry, nothing available, at least, not in our budget. We actually got lucky with this place, considering what we paid for it, and the location, but I guess the landlord wised up to how much money he was losing out on, hence the new rates. It’s kinda hard to get mad at him too, I mean, he was a great landlord, at least as they come. He always made sure we had hot water, and remember that time he came up at midnight because that owl got in?” Maybe it was because of Wayne being the target of their collective vitriol, but Becky also wasn’t mad at Gus, their Polish landlord, following Tasha’s sentiments on the old man, even trying to lighten the mood with,
“Oh yeah, that was a hoot… Fine, great… In a week I find out I’m single and we’re going to have to go back to living in a crappy dump that’s far away from everything. And that’s if we can even find such a dump… what’s a couple of girls like us gonna do?”
The last few days had been a good chance to bounce back, but this was too much to take right now, and Becky visibly slumped as the weight of the situation sunk in. At that point Tasha grabbed Becky’s arm, with a determined glint in her eyes that reflected the very steel of her soul.
“Girl, we’re gonna party, and make the most of it! You and I are going out, tonight, to grind up on the dance floor with some hot guys who totally fell in love at first sight with us, and we aren’t coming home until we get wasted out of our minds- agreed?!”
Even though it had been a while for both of them, getting mind-blowingly drunk was nostalgic, thus tempting enough to convince Becky that it was the right course of action to take. Plus, she needed to get out, maybe shower properly for the first time in days, instead of just letting the water wash over her in an attempt to fade away from existence. They got made up and dressed in clothes they picked out for the other (it was something they did to avoid the hassle of trying to find something perfect to wear), and it was off to the clubs. That was how their venture resulted in the brilliant idea of how to make ends meet via the world’s oldest profession… for a woman, anyway.
The next morning, they discovered that the young man Tasha had taken home was polite enough to leave without disturbing their beauty sleep, and while neither of them threw up, the queasiness took a while to subside. At their age, it was clear that their wilder teenage days (and bodies) were over. Eventually it came to pass, over a lunch of coffee and leftover sponge cake, that the two discussed their options, eventually settling upon, at the very least, looking into the prospect of sex work.
Chapter 2: Rookies in the Game
Whatever Becky thought she knew about the secret world of sex workers wasn’t nearly enough to prepare her for the realities of that particular profession. After sobering up, she and Tasha did some research, asked around, called someone on the phone, and were directed to a local agency which filled them in on what to expect. Upon hearing that the two girls were somewhat invested in the idea, the kindly woman on the phone invited them to come by to the ‘modelling agency’ located in the central business district. It wasn’t that far away, after taking a bus and a train, and they reached the very legitimate ‘Azure Pure Modelling Agency’ in good time.
Azure, as in sky blue, and Pure, a starkly wholesome name for a business that also dealt with the sex industry, Becky thought, as she took in her surroundings. It wasn’t like the shady massage parlours she had seen in strip malls, open late with red neon signs that seemed too cliché for her tastes- this place was like its namesake, with a chic design more reminiscent of a law firm than a seedy brothel. All good signs! A Mediterranean woman who must have at one stage been a fine beauty herself buzzed them inside. Her name was Claudia, the woman they had spoken to on the phone, even warmer and more inviting in person. Welcoming them inside, the motherly woman made a great fuss on hospitality as the girls were offered some tea and snacks.
While they happily munched through the platter of European biscuits and sandwiches, Claudia took the chance to explain business operations in greater detail. She was such a comforting soul that Becky felt a little less bashful as both she and Tasha explained their desire to supplement their income, and join the hush hush world of scarlet women. As it turned out, Claudia was a former escort too, though now happily married with someone she had met on the job. Azure Pure did do legitimate modelling, and also offered other legitimate services, such as girls to serve drinks at private functions (known as ‘skimpies’ for their scarcely-clad attire), as well as girls who dabbled in strip tease, and worked at several clubs throughout the city. If a girl wanted to, she could also sign up for filming jobs, which usually, but not always, involved doing pornography, and paid quite well (depending on the girl).
The two girls needed money without it affecting their lives too much; modelling was too inconsistent, stripping was too open (not to mention more physically demanding), skimpy work seemed a little too time consuming, and there was no chance whatsoever that Becky was going to be in any film that starred her genitals. Claudia understood, so delved deeper into the field of escorting, which paid a lot while still providing a girl with personal autonomy. Elaborating in her warm tones, the subject didn’t even feel like it was illegal, which it was not, as Claudia patiently explained,
“As you can see, doing this type of work doesn’t mark you for life, and as long as you take precautions, it’s quite rewarding. By signing up with our agency, you’ll receive a lot of support from an assortment of experienced professionals, not just me, and we look out for each other in this industry. Remember, we’re not being paid for sex, we’re being paid for our company. There’s a difference, and sleeping with the client is just a collateral option. Technically, but more on that later. A common ‘street hooker’ is NOT what Azure Pure prides ourselves upon, and we like to remind every client of that fact. If you girls want to trial it out, the basic subscription is free for the first month, so you can get a profile out there. After that, I’d highly recommend you sign up for our full agency services, which isn’t too pricy compared to the money you’ll make, and it’s honestly a lot safer as well.”
Becky wasn’t naïve enough to think that this line of work wasn’t dangerous (for a multitude of reasons), but she enquired about it, just to see what their hostess would say. Claudia sipped some tea, cleared her throat before continuing, almost as if she were preparing a rehearsed sales pitch.
“Well, a basic subscription is just that; you’ll get to put up your profile on our site for free, and we answer many FAQs you’ll have regarding the whole shebang. You pretty young ladies must already know how to take a good photo for yourselves, I don’t doubt, but we offer a professional photography service right here to get the best angles, which has proven to be more enticing for potential clients- think of it as better advertising for your bodies! Also, as stated, escorting isn’t without its own risks, which is where the full membership comes in handy. You’ll get access to our security teams and even medical affiliates- you can never be too safe in this line of work, trust me on that. I’ll email you the FAQs, but the gist is that being an escort comes with more risks, as well as more rewards, almost like being an entrepreneur! Perfect if you want to try your hands at being business women, or girlbosses as your generation says,” grinned the older woman, who keenly peered at them from behind a porcelain tea cup.
Hearing everything they needed to hear, Becky and Tasha thanked Claudia for her time (and the home-made cookies), left their contact details for any follow-up emails, and took the bus-train-walk combo back home.
Tasha, being Tasha, was psyched to try it out, but Becky was still a little reserved. Part of her wondered if she was also considering this avenue as a way to get back at Wayne, who had heatedly called her a pathetic slut when she walked away that day, but the most enticing part of all this was the money. Claudia outlined how it varied, but even the more affordably priced escorts made a lucrative profit at the end of the week. Becky couldn’t exactly just work more shifts at the café, and they were likely underpaying her anyway: some excuse about how the tips would average it out at Tax Time, or whatever bullshit reasoning that allowed them to perpetuate wage slavery. No, she needed something that would make a lot of money in a small amount of time, and while she was less comfortable with the idea of selling her body, it looked as if this was the only way forward.
Upon arriving home, they were pleased to find emails addressed to both of them, detailing what was discussed at the introduction, as well as more information regarding membership. Also included was a list of ‘mentors’, girls and guys who worked in the industry, and the next couple of hours involved both of them reaching out to them. Some of the other girls she had networked with were extremely professional, and Becky marvelled at how they had built such successful businesses out of what was becoming a less taboo topic the more she delved into it. These were truly business women who maintain a tight ship, whether it be for their personal websites, social media accounts, or just the quality of the photos and services provided. As it turned out, a lot of them had regular, albeit low key, lives outside of the whole sex-worker schtick too, and it gave her more confidence regarding this entire venture.
As the two girls viewed the sample profile pages, they gleamed even more nuances about the world they were considering getting involved with. As one would expect, photos teased more at one’s face than their body; the footnotes stated that faces were almost always blurred, or otherwise digitally altered, to protect the privacy of escorts, but butts and nipples were fair game. Tattoos were even air-brushed away. Personally, Becky found the About Me section to be a little corny, and wondered what kind of men would actually buy into the explicit fantasy overture of these pandering bios. But maybe she was judging them too harshly, and besides, a paying customer should get what they want, right?
On seconds thoughts, maybe they should redefine what was appropriate, as one of the profile sections, labelled Services, included a bunch of things that would make even Tasha blush, and neither girl was exactly shy herself. Certainly, they were expecting to perform acts like blow jobs and some backdoor privileges, but the list went on and on with a whole lexicon of terms that made the job seem even more surreal. For instance, when the two wondered what “going Greek” meant, and found out, they lost their composure and started giggling like immature high school girls ten years their junior.
“Hey Becky, check it out! Do you want some guy to ‘dine at your Y’, or maybe you could toss his salad with some Greek sauce!”
Scolding the other girl only encouraged her to continue a slew of euphemisms and gutter talk, which filled Becky with second-hand shame.
“Natasha! Do you really have to be so vulgar?!” Undeterred, Tasha shot back with,
“Oh, come on girl, like you haven’t done half of the things I’ve been mentioning off this list!”
Tasha teased Becky, and eventually managed to get back in her good graces by reminding her that these were things they would need to be comfortable with if they were going to become escorts. Realising that she was right, Becky gave in and continued to investigate what else the profiles entailed. Fortunately, the rest was just regarding a list of prices and deals, as well as an option to list personal websites, social media, and even a Wishlist of items they would like to receive from gentlemen callers. However, Tasha noticed something when reviewing the prices that might make their plans a little more complicated. Speaking to herself as much as Becky, Tasha said
“Hey, what’s the difference between in-call and out-call? Oh wait, I get it now, it’s whether or not we meet them or they meet us… uh, do we want to have any guys come back here?” Without much delay Becky said,
“Definitely not. If it’s from the clubs then that’s a different story, but I definitely don’t want clients to know where we live, especially if they feel like we ‘owe them’ more than what they paid for. Hmmm, I guess we can just rent motels, or make ourselves exclusively out-call girls?”
It was then that Tasha displayed one of her random flashes of brilliance, adding,
“Hey, I know, why don’t we advertise a Social Dating feature too? Like, we just meet them for coffee or go out to dinner with them? Possibly even the occasional wedding… I think a lot of lonelier, awkward guys would really go for that, especially if we charge a lot less for those.”
“Oh my god, that’s genius! That way we don’t have to book a motel every time either. Great thinking!” Becky smiled with pride at how Tasha’s mind worked, and it did not go unnoticed as her friend milked the compliment,
“Yeah, where would you be without me? But listen, before we do any more planning on this, I’ve got to eat something! Do we have anything left in the fridge?” Realising how hungry she was too, likely a result of so much brainpower being used, they hunted around the kitchen area, probing the fridge and the pantry for something to make a decent meal from. They did not find anything that was adequate, and so opted to go out to the ramen bar around the corner.
Looking around, as they traversed the block, Becky thought to herself that this area really was very nice, and came to appreciate how much she thought of it as home, ever since they moved in a year ago. Goodness, how different things were a year ago, when she was so excited to have started her post-grad studies, and things were still great with Wayne- may he burn for what he did to her. Sighing, she forced herself to stop dwelling on the topic, she was far too hungry for that. Even though they were surrounded by so many delightful restaurants and snack boutiques, ramen held a special place in her diet; years ago, she had been a part of the Japanese English Teachers (JET) program, which was an agency that helped people become assistant English teachers in Japanese schools, and she had loved every second of that experience. Being interested in a lot of Japanese pop culture helped her integrate, and in time she became almost fluent in Japanese, though she knew better than to be anything but humble when it came to her Japanese. She had even picked up baseball at her assigned high-school, and after training sessions everyone used to go out for ramen at the most charming little family-owned noodle shop in Kyoto. This place was good, but it was never the same as when she had it back then, though right now both girls were hungry enough that the smells from the kitchen were causing them to salivate.
She and Tasha ordered a bowl each, with extra strips of pork and bamboo shoots for her, while Tasha ordered extra noodles: she wasn’t kidding before, about being hungry, inhaling the stuff when it was placed before her. With a sign, Becky thought that there was just something about eating at the one in Japan that made it so much better. Looking back on her relationship with Wayne, she recalled that he would eat Japanese cuisine with her on occasion, but he never got into the culture like she did. Unsurprisingly, he was only interested in the superficial aspects of the culture she had come to love as a second identity. In fact, come to think of it, the only time she had ever really met someone who seemed to connect with her cultural enamorment was about two years ago, when she had randomly sat down for coffee with a philosopher from a local symposium.
He had been an interesting fellow, and she had sensed that there was a conflict inside him which was being heavily suppressed; they really had a lot of fun trading banter in the brief amount of time that their paths crossed. She still recalled how he had ordered her an entire platter of muffins before she was due for her baseball training! She did not eat everything like a wild animal, nay, she had self-control, but it was distracting nonetheless and no doubt he had intended it to be. The way he challenged her was, well, different to any other guy she had known, because she could tell he wasn’t trying to get in her pants- he was too fixated on a girl named Naomi, who lived in Japan, for that. Becky never saw him again at any of the other lectures she attended, and as far as the other speakers knew, he had simply disappeared after the lecture he gave on Zen. A shame, because she believed they could have had many more conversations of that calibre.
I wonder where you are now, Thomas… Did you manage to ascend and become one with the Universe? Or maybe, you found true love, and achieved your happily ever after with Naomi… or some other girl…
Chapter 3: Return of the Prodigal Son
It was a cool evening, and Thomas was savouring every breath. There was so much life here, a noticeably absent quality in the wilderness. After approximately a year, he had returned to the Western capital, his home, and for the first time in his life, there was no pressing sense of obligation or duties that required his immediate attention. The desert had not been kind to him- it had not been cruel either, because deserts are as they are, and nothing more. Still, his left leg, or rather his left knee, was still rather tender, to put it lightly. The pain was now mostly vestigial, and largely unnoticed due to his wonder of returning to civilisation. Oh god, how he had missed shopping centres, spending the first day back simply loitering around the biggest one in his neighbourhood. He did do actual shopping as well, and in a city full of pretty people, he had gone shopping for more than just groceries. Seeing as how he had been in the desert, his ‘thirst’ was justified.
His private journey had helped him to begin healing from scars sustained over a lifetime of pursuing a true understanding of the world; admittedly, a fair amount of those scars could be called self-inflicted, but surely, if so, it would be with overtures of nobility, one that did not detract from all the voiceless suffering he had endured in an attempt to cultivate his soul… right? He didn’t need to cover it up with make-up any longer, but still, he was unsure as how to best proceed, so he simply donned his infamous mask whenever necessary, a tactic he was currently re-evaluating. Baby steps, he reminded himself.
But he did not need to wear that mask so tightly tonight, for he had reunited with an old friend, Orlando, a stoic and strong man of candid observations. This would come in handy, as they celebrated their reunion at a venue boasting both class and culture, ‘The Aviary’, a popular new gentlemen’s club that had opened a month ago. Thomas Kei was back, not in full capacity, but he was back home, and that was what mattered to him.
As with most gentlemanly establishments, ordinary, unsexy cash could be converted to a localised form of currency, in order to enhance the experience. Or something like that. To be honest, all currency was arguably just fiat money if the exchange rate was 1:1. However, in celebration of their first month since opening, both men were pleasantly surprised to find that The Aviary offered greater value if larger sums were exchanged. Some arbitrage was in order! Getting more value for bulk purchases was too tempting for Tom, who exchange almost a thousand dollars to spoil Orlando, whom he was as fond of as his own brother. Truth be told, he liked Orlando better than either of his brothers, but he would never say that on record- that was ungentlemanly. Tom probably wouldn’t have exchanged as much as he did if he knew that the ‘Naughty-Notes’ were only useful on the main attraction, those scantily clad girls patrolling for clients, and couldn’t be used at the bar- but select snacks were complimentary with every drink purchase! He simply reasoned that he would pay the notes forward to some lucky young ladies, because a refund was unclassy, even cheap, and Thomas had a policy regarding being cheap: don’t be! The two gentlemen sat down at a quiet spot between the bar and the stage, the younger one doing so with a wince, and immediately got comfortable. Ever hospitable, the slightly older man exuberated gusto and asked,
“Orlando, it’s so good to see you again buddy! Come on, I’ll get you a drink- you’re still a Jack Daniels and Coke guy, right?”
A nod confirmed the choice was to his liking, and Tom went to place the order. A man of few words, but utmost dependability, that was Orlando.
Sipping on drink and munching on mixed nuts, it didn’t take long for company to find them. A voluptuous blonde made their introductions with her large grin and a swagger that may have been due to her likely unnatural proportions, but it was the petite brunette that proved more skilful in holding a conversation. ‘Candy’, the blonde in a cheerleader’s outfit, and ‘Athena’, marvellous in a black laced corset, complemented each other well by working their exuberance and coyness in tandem, something that Orlando and Tom matched with their own complement of stoic and whimsy, respectively. It was fun for them to make light banter, even though the girls were technically just giving an on-the-job service, and true to form, were plying the two to buy a lap dance after breaking the ice. Amused, Tom looked over at Orlando, who seemed indifferent, but was probably entertaining the idea; after all, the girls had made an effort to get to know them, and the polite thing to do would include showing their appreciation. Financially, if possible.
Alcohol was loosening inhibitions. Tom felt that his reserved friend deserved to enjoy himself in style, and he was well known for his generosity. Taking out over half the wad of Naughty-Notes, about half a grand, he placed it in the front pocket of Orlando’s jacket, all the while feeling Candy and Athena discreet gaze following the currency. With a broad smile, he turned to the girls and said,
“Ladies, forgive me, I’ve got to visit the bathroom and make a call. Could you please take extra good care of my buddy here? Hey Orlando, I think both Candy and Athena have been absolutely lovely to us, right? And, if they’re as talented as they are beautiful, you should thank them by making it rain!”
Thomas promptly made his way to the bathroom, turning back in time to see the ladies lead his friend to one of the private booths, where those clients who paid for a lap dance could enjoy their purchases with some discretion. To be honest though, it wasn’t as if this place had any restrictions of nudity in the lounge: there was an open stage that featured a roster of various strippers, in various states of undress. But he assumed the private booths were more accommodating, as he couldn’t see inside them very well, which was almost certainly an intentional design feature.
He really did have to use the bathroom, but the call part of his story was fabricated- it merely gave him an excuse to walk outside, and scroll his social media, seeing as how the place required all phones to be in pockets whilst enjoying the establishment. Breathing deeply, taking in the fresh air that contrasted with the smell of booze and perfumes back inside, he made some small talk with the security guards, and left when several other patrons stumbled outside to smoke; after all, it completely defeated the purpose of Tom’s desire for fresh air. Oh well, he thought, Orlando should be about done anyway, as he made his way back inside.
They were done, and had returned to the lounge area, waiting for him in the same spot. 30 minutes went by quicker for some. Orlando was visibly relaxed and quite mellow, but the girls were full of energy and both seemed to eagerly await his return. He waved as he approached, and asked how it went,
“So, ladies, did Orlando enjoy your performance?”
Looking over to his friend, Orlando gave a typical nonchalant tilt of his head, to signify that he wasn’t displeased by it, and the girls chimed in,
“Oh yeah, we did our very best, didn’t we Athena?”
“Yes, and Orlando was really nice to us, but maybe you’d like to see us in action for yourself?”
Both girls were behaving very enticingly, all smiles and bosoms, but Thomas’ heart wasn’t in it, and he declined the offer. To their credit, the girls didn’t immediately leave, which was commonly the behaviour of salespersons when a sale fell through, and they continued chatting for quite a bit more. Feeling that perhaps he had thought too poorly of the girls prior, who were simply doing their jobs, Thomas got them all another round of drinks, and asked about what brought them to the Aviary in the first place. Athena revealed,
“Well, I’m still studying for my therapeutic certifications, and it’s a great way to pay the bills. I’ve always loved doing dancing and yoga- Orlando could tell you how flexible I am, right sweetie?”
Orlando grinned slightly, as one who is in on a private joke, and agreed. Candy then said something that surprised the two men,
“Even though we have to pay to be here, this is my only strip joint, so it actually works out pretty well, even on a quiet night like tonight.” Both Tom and Orlando were aghast, and Oscar blurted out,
“Hang on, you mean to say you don’t get paid for being here? That’s so unfair! Well, I guess it would be, if it wasn’t for the generous tips?” Candy continued with,
‘Yeah, but that’s just how it works- we pay them to be here, and if we’re good, we make a pretty decent rate. It does get a little dull if it’s quiet, but the other girls here are all friendly with each other.”
Athena supported what Candy was saying, interjecting with her own experiences,
“Uhuh, at some places I’ve been to, the girls are real god-awful bitches, pardon my French, hah. So you sorta just gotta hunt around for the best spots.”
“Hmmm, do you get to have much of a normal life? You know, dating and all that?” Orlando asked a good question- what was a normal life for a stripper? The girls explained that they managed to have pretty normal lives, but some of the others also did a lot of escorting.
“Really? And that’s not, like, illegal, or something?” Thomas was joking but Athena quickly jumped to defend the legitimacy of the profession,
“Oh no, no no, it’s not like prostitution- these girls usually go on high profile dates with exec-type guys, and if they want to, they’ll sleep with him. But it’s totally their choice.”
Thomas sarcastically grinned while remarking,
“Their body, their choice, right?”
“Exactly!”, both the girls chorused in unison.
The conversation was interrupted by the DJ announcing something indiscernible to the guys, but the girls seemed to have comprehended his dialect, and explained that very soon they’d be due on stage for their rostered dances: first Athena, then Candy. Now seemed a good chance to bid each other farewell. In parting, as he handed over the remainder of his Naughty-Notes, Thomas asked whether or not the girls also did any escort work, which the girls took to meaning he was interested in procuring their services in a more private setting. As it turned out, they did not, and he wasn’t enquiring after them specifically, but they recommended an agency which listed plenty of girls who did, a legitimate modelling agency named Azure Pure. Before they were out of earshot, Thomas called out to them, playfully,
“Ladies, do you know why this place is called the Aviary?!”
They turned their heads, and replied teasingly,
“Isn’t it obvious? Just look at all the birds!”
Their laughter was echoed by the two men, who realised that ‘bird’ was slang for a girl, and this place was definitely full of them. Casually, at a strolling pace, Orlando and Thomas made their way out, and were wished a safe night by the bouncers outside while they headed to where Tom had parked.
“So, to our first time out since last year! Thanks for coming out buddy. Hey, the night is still young, wanna grab some McDonalds?”
“Yeah, I could go for some fries, maybe a burger”.
“Awesome! Come on, we’ll go to our old favourite spot, the one near your house. You okay with that?” Thomas could see that Orlando had drunken a little too much, revealing that Candy and Athena signalled for a bartender to bring a small bottle of whiskey into their VIP room. It was empty by the time the lap dances were over, and to his credit, Orlando was only now beginning to show signs of something that wasn’t quite alcohol poisoning- with enough greasy food, he would recover though. With a burp, he said,
“I don’t work there anymore, so I’m okay with eating it every now and then.”
It seemed so odd to hear that Orlando had quit working for McDonald’s, a soul sucking work environment for anyone closer to thirty rather than twenty, true, but he was doing pretty well for himself at a real estate brokerage now. As it turned out, Orlando had a good eye for the financial and housing market; he was even developing rudimentary stock market skills, and found the new line of work much more fulfilling than being a veteran grunt-level employee. As they ordered, Orlando surprised Thomas by insisting on covering their meal. Usually, the younger man had always been polite enough to give way to Tom’s generosity, which he privately suspected might actually be a borderline personality disorder, but on this occasion he was simply happy that Thomas was back home, and doing better than the last time they had met. Plus, while he wasn’t anywhere near as generous as Thomas, Orlando understood the meaning of the word gratitude, and he was still enjoying the pleasure of his lap dances from earlier, the ones that had come courtesy of his friend. They ordered from the counter, collected the tray in a timely manner, and found a relatively clean table to settle down.
Munching away at the food, Thomas seemed perturbed, and slowly picked at his fries, a menu item that used to inspire such Elysium within his soul. Perhaps he was getting older, but fast food just wasn’t as appealing to him anymore, even though he had voraciously gone through quite a few take-out restaurants upon his recent return. Scarcity of commodities increases their value, and he had been deprived of such luxuries in the desert. Orlando asked him about it, but Thomas would only say it was a story for another time. When enquired as to why he didn’t go for a lap dance, Thomas’s expression twisted into a sardonic grin as he jokingly explained,
“Those girls were nice, both to look at, and to chat with, but the new and improved me has a simple philosophy: “Look Good, Make Money, Fuck Bitches”. Also, just between you and me, it’s been a while since I’ve been around any sort of eligible bachelorettes, so I’m kinda pacing myself, man. Like a thirsty guy stumbling upon an oasis, I don’t want to drown myself now, do I? It’s also a good survival policy- you’re meant to sip, not glug!”
They both had a good laugh at the implications, though Orlando was still slightly concerned for Thomas; that man had only been in a single relationship since Orlando had met him, and it was to a foreign girl that lived in Germany. He never asked why the engagement was called off, and it was one of the things that made him reflect upon how little he knew of Tom’s depths. Oh well, in his opinion, some things were better left undisturbed. Thomas was one of his best friends, so Orlando was certain that whatever specifics he didn’t know were outweighed by the simple fact that Thomas had never given him reason to think poorly of him. At the end of the day, maybe that was the only measure you needed when it came to other people, but then again, Orlando was of a simpler and more direct mindset, and preferred not to complicate human nature, which was plenty complicated enough.
After making more small talk and digesting for a while, Thomas raised an unexpected topic,
“Hey, do you remember what that escort agency was called? Pure something… Azure Pure!”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I haven’t been on a date in a while, and to be honest, I think I’m a little out of touch. My Tinder game is still strong, but I could use a confidence booster with a professional… do you think that’s weird?”
“Nah, with you, nothing is normal- how could it be weird?”
Thomas was thankful for Orlando’s even tones, which displayed an interest, but no judgements,
“Hah, you’re right, I guess it just depends on how I feel about it. You seeing anyone right now?” Oscar grunted,
“Nothing steady, just putting those lines out there.”
“Cool, cool. Yeah, I don’t think I want to get distracted by dating at the moment, so I figured it’d be easier to just keep things casual… Anyway, it’s getting a little late, so let’s call it a night!”
The two made it back to car, and Thomas took his friend home, before heading to the new place he was renting. His old place had passed ownership since he went away, but he was fortunate enough to find a new home in one of the more affordable inner-city apartments. Okay, maybe ‘affordable’ was a relative term, because this place was nice enough to make your average yuppie look like they were in government housing! He didn’t need anything fancy, even though he could afford it now, but while he was deciding what to do with his life now, it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy himself a little, right? Taking out his phone, he ran a Google search on Azure Pure, and it didn’t take him long to find the agency with its list of various alluring escorts. He thought to himself,
Azure Pure… oh, like in Sky-Blue Azure! Obvious in hindsight, but still, that’s an ironically innocent name for such a business. But wait, they do actual modelling, so I suppose that justifies it… alright, let’s see what kind of girls are on offer here- oh my! That blonde looks very nice…
Chapter 4: Bitterly Professional
Becky hated it already, and it had just been the first two weeks of their new exciting lives as part-time escorts. At first, she and Tasha clung on to the impression that it would be mainly very wealthy older men, the types of people who would pamper them with all the savoir-faire that came with the territory of being a more experienced fellow. Easy money for two enterprising young ladies, who were just trying to make ends meet. They had gotten Bluetooth speakers, fragrance diffusers, and a lot of contraceptive medical supplies, as well as regular sanitation supplies- prepped out for an army of cocks, as Tasha so eloquently put it. Becky felt a little seedy: she and Tasha had discreetly bought the total items in bits and pieces, so as to not draw attention from a cashier, despite the fact that said cashier would probably not be paid enough to notice these things… Still, a girl could never be too careful especially as they intended to make bank in the next few weeks!
Oh boy, how wrong they were about the wealthy older gentlemen- though to be fair, the social dates idea was doing somewhat okay. It was just that it got depressingly awkward with many of those guys, who, understandably, were the types of men that required a more transactional method of meeting women, and Becky wasn’t the type to pretend she was cheery all the time, something that Tasha was better at feigning. Another reason she felt down was due to the fact that many of those men wore wedding rings, and weren’t even embarrassed when she eyed their left hands with some dismay. She was prepared for it, of course: the introduction package had explained that it was very common for married men to “escape into the arms of a professional”, but she was still getting accustomed to the blatant infidelity that kept reminding her of Wayne.
As for the more explicit motel meetings, well… they were floundering. The half a dozen or so appointments she had arranged so far were anything but successful: two had cancelled without so much as a text, one had absolutely refused to wear a condom, and the others had tried to short-change her by telling Becky they had simply ‘made a mistake’, and would ensure she get the full amount after they were done. She was having none of that. Luckily, no one had gotten violent as of yet, though Becky could feel her opinion of men sinking by the day.
In contrast, Tasha had somehow managed to get a lot of the ‘good ones’, and was doing well from just her four appointments so far, though that only included the successful ones. Becky couldn’t get mad at her friend’s success though, as Tasha was sympathetic and even pledged to help cover the losses Becky had accrued so far, proclaiming that they were “in this together”. Bless her, Becky thought, though unless they lifted their game plan, this wasn’t going to be enough for what they needed, which was essentially two months’ worth of rent once they factored in bond as well as the initial payments. It wasn’t like they were getting any existing bond back either: when they signed up, Gus hadn’t asked for any! Time to face the music- it wasn’t going to happen. Tasha understood, and suggested that they could probably just keep doing it until their lease ran out.
“Hey Becky, do you wanna start hosting our clients here? I mean, it’ll save us money on motels, and it’s not like we need to keep our location private if we’re not staying here long term, right?”
She thought hard about that option, but a more ethical part of her won out over the part of her mind that was only focused on the potential revenue,
‘Nah… I definitely don’t want any random creeps to know where we stay, even if it isn’t going to be for much longer. And plus, I feel like we’d be doing this place a disservice, you know? It’s been our home since we moved out from that six bedroomed dormitory we stayed in before. I just wish we had a few more months here…” Seeing her best friend so depressed made Tasha start to get depressed, so she tried cheering them both up with,
“We’ll party in style on the last day, I promise! You know, get Krissy and some of the others, and we can reminisce about what a great time we had here. Yeah!?”
“Yeah… yeah girl! Totally!”
Feeling a bit better, they hugged, and went about their daily business. Becky penned an email to Claudia, who had been asking if they wanted to sign up for premium subscriptions, and was disappointed when she heard that they were going to pull out of this career. In fact, she was so disappointed that she called Becky moments after the email was sent, and after some slight hesitation to formulate her reasons, she answered with the maximum amount of enthusiasm she could muster. Remembering to smile, as people could hear those, apparently, Becky stoutly exclaimed,
“Hi Claudia! You got my email? That was fast!”
“Hello Becky, I just opened it and thought I’d talk to you about a few things you mentioned in the email. I’m sorry it hasn’t been working out for you- was there anything I could have done to make it easier to get adjusted?” Unlike Becky, the older woman seemed openly worried and Becky tried to reassure her with,
“Oh no, please don’t think it was anything to do on your end! I’m really glad Azure Pure has such a capable person running the ship, but I’ve had a lot of super gronky clients, and it’s left a bad taste in my mouth. I know we have to be professional in this business, which you and all of the others I’ve spoken with have been, but it’s time to leave before I get too bitter and start surrounding myself with too many cats.” Becky hoped some humour would lighten the mood, as Claudia seemed to have taken their resignation as a personal failure, and was relieved when the older woman sounded a little more reassured,
“Well, as long as you and Tasha haven’t been hurt in any way… physically, I mean, though of course the most enduring pains are the ones we can’t see… Alright! Well, if you do want to continue until your free trial ends, we’ll keep your profiles up and you can hopefully make a little bit extra before we say our goodbyes.” It was better than she had hoped, and the sinking feeling in Becky’s stomach subsided somewhat: this wasn’t as bad as telling the cashier that she ordered her burger without pickles, which she had admittedly never done as pickles on a burger were awesome. In a more genuine manner, she told Claudia,
“Aww, thank you so much Claudia, you’ve been like a really cool aunt to us. I know Tasha is still keen to ride it out, but to be honest, I am just done with the whole affair. Unless you have a mild-mannered millionaire lined up or something, it’s probably going to be it for me.” She could not have predicted what came next.
“Hmmm. Actually, we may have someone.”
She didn’t expect Claudia to take her request seriously, but the other woman seemed to be deep in thought. Becky stayed quiet, her instincts telling her that something important was going through the other woman’s mind, and right now she probably wouldn’t say no to one more wealthy gentleman. Claudia seemed to have made some kind of decision after what seemed like an eternity, and said something that piqued Becky’s interest: apparently there was someone that matched her offhanded request.
“Well, not a millionaire, so don’t get your hopes up honey. Or at least, we didn’t get that vibe from him, but anyway, some of the other girls have been talking about someone who has been seeing a fair few of our blondes. He solicited our services a few days after you joined up, in fact, crazy coincident isn’t it? I haven’t met him, so I’m just going off what I’ve heard. As you know, a lot of the time, our girls provide references for new clients who wish to see other escorts, and Azure Pure does this kind of screening on everyone who uses our services, especially when it comes to our escorts. This particular young man is Asian, in his late 20’s to early 30’s, and all of our girls who have seen him have remarked upon how polite and easy going he is. I also hear he tips very well. Interested so far?”
Becky sighed, as she wished her own appointments, which were managed privately seeing as how she didn’t have a premium membership to Azure Pure, could have been like that.
“Thanks for letting me know guys like that are out there, Claudia. But, I don’t think he’d be interested in me: I’m a brunette remember?”
“Actually, that’s the thing! He’s just asked if we could provide him with someone for tomorrow night, even if they weren’t blonde, and I was about to get back to him, explaining that it was too short notice- we did have a red head who considered it, but she’s currently recovering from the flu, and you know that we take health very seriously here. Perhaps you could do us both a favour, and take on the request?”
The other woman’s offer was tempting, and Becky grew hopeful at making the most of her waning escort days. Realising that she was keeping Claudia waiting, and deciding that she should make the most of this opportunity, she agreed, and was told that if he accepted, she would be sent his contact details so that the two could make an arrangement.
It was several hours later, several anxiety-riddled hours mind you, that Becky received the details of one ‘Mr K.’ and made arrangements to meet him the following night. His text included a rather friendly ‘Hello’, thanking her for being available on such short notice, and asked her to clarify the logistics/price. Claudia wasn’t kidding when she mentioned how polite he was, using full sentences, proper grammar, and even hints of high vocabulary. Things were looking up for Becky. After elaborating the rates, and all the technical aspects, she had him booked for a two-hour session, at his place. All in all, if things went well, she would be several hundred dollars up by the end of tomorrow evening, and with that she could break even on this whole venture, with a little something to show for it too. Heck, she would even have finally gotten laid since Wayne! She sent him the confirmation text.
Her: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night Mr K. You sound so lovely! Would you like me to wear anything to make your night all the more magical? XxX Diana
Looking back at what she sent, she couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed at how fake her words sounded. Although it was just the protocol for interacting with clients, at least according to Azure Pure’s guidelines and tips, she still hated having to play up this one-dimensional sex-kitten trope. Ugh, it seemed so demeaning to her, but a lot of other escorts assured her that it helped the clients feel more immersed in this taboo sexual fantasy that they were paying for. In fact, without that element, they probably wouldn’t be able to charge as much as they did for their services. Her phone flashed with a response from “Mr K”.
Him: Wonderful, I’m so looking forward to making your acquaintance! I’m sure anything you wear will be beautiful, but if it’s not too much trouble, could you procure a formal dress? Otherwise, anything is fine!
She smiled, imagining what kind of friendly and non-threatening person he was in real life- it made her question why he was seeing escorts at all, but she knew better than to ask too many questions of that nature. At the very least, he hadn’t asked her to turn up in a trench coat, and nothing else, which was a general improvement from some of those other clients. Collating her impressions, he appeared a lot more refined than most other guys she had messaged before, in her past and on the job, who were barely comprehensible at best, and resulted in unsolicited pictures at worst. He was probably some shy, nerdy, and out of shape virgin… no, that’s mean, Becky thought to herself, reprimanding herself not to judge a man before getting to know him… Realising that she hadn’t pressed ‘Send’ yet, Becky self-consciously checked to see that her grammar was up to his standards, and sent it his way.
Her: I can see you like your women classy, Mr K. No worries babe, I think I can find something appropriate! See you at 7 xx
She still didn’t understand the prevalence of pet terms such as ‘babe’, ‘hun’, or ‘sweetie’, but the guide sheet mentioned that it made a lot of these guys soft headed when they heard them, almost as if there was a special rapport being developed with the client, and that usually paid off in the long run. To her, though, it felt a little cheap, but she kept reminding herself that she had gone this far, and would be giving it up before too long.
Chapter 5: Kore Wa Unmei Desu (This is Fate)
His new place was clean and tidy, aside from the assorted boxes left in his private study, but it lacked a certain atmosphere. A certain lived-in presence. Hopefully, the girl coming by this evening would change that somewhat. Or maybe she would be like the others, and he would once again be reminded of how alienated his true feelings were at this point in Life. It was something he had vowed to address, now that he had a lot of time and money on his hands, but he could not help but feel so empty inside. For the longest time since he could remember, his core always felt as if it housed great and tremulous feelings for a particular girl, whom he had deliberately not reached out to since he had returned from Japan that second, final, time.
At first, calling the agency was at best a curiosity; he had never solicited the services of a professional before, but that was to be expected as he was a rather ascetic philosopher throughout his twenties. After the first time having an escort over, with the exhilarations that accompanies something of this nature, he tried meeting with a few more girls, until he had exhausted the list of eligible professionals (those who he found to be most attractive). They say blondes have more fun, but the novelty soon wore off for him, and he was growing tired of seeing a different woman naked every week for the past month. Tonight would be the last time, he told himself, as this experiment had been giving him diminishing returns, and so he decided to end it with a rather well-proportioned brunette, the one he had gotten in contact with yesterday. Instead of an hour, which is what he paid for with the previous women, tonight he had booked two for this final jaunt of hedonism- he was feeling generous.
There was something about this girl, he thought to himself, as he perused her profile, trying to figure out why he had felt a little more excited about seeing this one. Perhaps it was the change of menu, brunette versus blonde, but surely that couldn’t be it? He skimmed her profile page once more as he waited for her in his living room:
“Hello all of you lovely gentlemen out there! XoX
I’m Diana, a young lady in in her early twenties, and just like my namesake, I never stop pursing my mark on any hunt. Do you wish to play a game of cat and mouse with me, as we explore what true passions lie dormant within your soul? I hope so- I’m growing ever so lonely without you on these unbearably cold nights!
Whether you want a fun girl to help you forget about your stressful work/home life, or whether you want to bare yourself to someone who’s equally wise beyond her years, I am determined to make our visits a mutually unforgettable affair…”
There was more, written in the same kind of soft fantasy language that so many escorts used. He appreciated good writing, which this girl had, from a technical standpoint. Especially compared to some of the god-awful profiles he had perused; those usually belonged to international girls, just visiting to make some quick cash no doubt. This one seemed local, being Caucasian, though that wasn’t guaranteed. Her photos were said to be verified, which meant that they were recent as well as authenticated, and therefore he should be able to identify a silhouette of her if push came to shove. Her body was very nice, but Thomas needed to see a girl’s eyes before he could decide if he found her truly attractive or not. If she had really written this profile, and not gotten a ghost-writer or something similar, then he was already quite intrigued as it mentioned she spoke both English and Japanese, was studying Korean on the side, and enjoyed literature. Her hobbies were playing music (guitar and piano), and baseball. This “Dianna” seemed almost out of place on an escort agency’s list of profiles, but then again, it was an ever-changing world, and he reasoned that the money would have made it very enticing for a lot of people.
She would be here soon, as it was around quarter to seven now, and she was due in fifteen minutes if punctuality was another one of her strong suits. He busied himself in the kitchen, preparing some tea for the both of them, once she arrived. How strange it had seemed to the other escorts, when he offered them tea; they told him that most people offered them something stronger, but he didn’t drink alcohol and so, understandably, was unable to provide the norm. If Dianna was partial to tea, she’d be the first, and he’d have an even higher opinion of her! Who knows, maybe he would solicit her services again if the night went well.
“Knock Knock!”
A pleasant female voice carried through the screen door. She was here, outside, but he was still focused on brewing his tea.
“The door’s open! Please have a seat in the living room!”
He heard her come in and take off her shoes, which he was grateful for as it offended his Asian sensibilities to wear shoes indoors. One could not rush quality, but he was almost finished with his leaf distillations. It smelled good, in a way that only the best midori sencha (green leaf tea) could. Despite being Chinese ancestrally, he believed that the Japanese generally had better green tea, and always bought it organically, if possible- bagged teas were for peasants! It was finally ready, and when he looked at the time, he realised that it was only just turned 7pm: she was a punctual lady indeed, very professional of her.
As he went to greet her in the living room, she stood up to face him properly. Thomas watched the next scene as if it were being played in slow motion, and he suddenly understood why he had felt a particular attachment to her profile: ‘Dianna’ turned out be an old chance acquaintance of his. He smiled, pleasantly surprised to have run into her again, though perhaps not in the most expected circumstances.
“Hishashiburi ne, Becky-san (Long time no see, Becky)”.
The voice was soft, but managed to carry an exuberance that proved beyond a doubt that it was him. Becky merely stared, a panoply of emotions surging though her ever quick-thinking mind, as she took in his words, and zig-zagged through the thoughts and feelings threatening to overtake her composure. His smile faded slightly as she continued to stare at him, her face turning pale, before getting flushed. She still didn’t say anything, so he continued,
“Uh, has my Nihon-go (Japanese) become so rusty? Or perhaps, maybe you’re the rusty one?” He teased her, hoping to break her out of her shock, but it was so much more than that.
The shame and embarrassment of being recognised while she was doing this kind of work, oh, what he must think of her! Her breathing became shallow and rapid- her world seemed to be drifting in and out of focus, before all strength in her legs gave way, and she unceremoniously buckled forward. There was now no hint of amusement in Thomas’s expression, as he caught her, steadied her, all the while taking in her body language. She wasn’t having a heart attack, or a stroke… could it be asthma? No, it dawned on him that it was a mild (or maybe demure would be a better word?) panic attack, but why? Idiot, he thought to himself: they were meeting again under less than respectable circumstances, and he registered that perhaps this wasn’t the best place to stumble on people one was already familiar with- his philosophical side wondered if it was less embarrassing to be caught soliciting escorts versus being caught escorting… Perhaps too late, he turned his gaze away from her, and neutrally remarked,
“Forgive me Diana, I’ve clearly made a mistake. You- you just happen to bear a passing resemblance to a friend I know, who doesn’t live in town anymore. Are you feeling okay? Can I get you some water?”
While he wasn’t looking directly at her, he could tell she was recovering, and he was able to deduce, from the corner of his eyes, that she nodded at his offer of a drink. He helped her to the couch, where she was able to lay down, and steadily regained her nerves. She watched him disappear into the kitchen as she processed what was going on. It was obvious he knew her, and rather than try to insist upon it, he had chosen to pretend that it was all just a misunderstanding. Should she just continue from there? Hell no! There was no way she’d be in the mood for anything remotely sexy after the revelation that Mr K. was Thomas. Thomas Kei, of course, come to think of it, that was his name!
Eventually, she settled on not insulting their respective intelligences, and decided to come clean with him. As he returned, with a platter of various cups and beverages, she weakly tried to reassure him she was fine.
“Hi, Tom. O-Hishashiburi desu (It really has been a while). Listen, I reall-” He cut her off, firmly, but not so abruptly as to make her think he was being hostile.
“Drink this. We can talk in a bit”
She took a sip of water, and was aware of how acutely he was watching her, as if checking to see if her physiology had returned to normal. He looked a bit more relieved when she finished the cup of water, and then he handed her a round white vessel, which she recognised immediately as a proper oriental tea cup. Pouring her a cup of green tea, hot but not burning, helped her to feel better as the powerful roasted scent brought back memories of when she used to drink this stuff every day.
“You don’t have to drink it,” he said, “Just breath it in for a while, it’ll help bolster your complexion.”
Tom was concerned at how pale she was, but the colour was slowly returning to her cheeks. She would be fine, he thought, as he poured himself a cup of tea, and they sat in silence for a moment, not daring to break the tension that was building in the room. He was trying to find a way to tactfully smooth out this rather unexpected hiccough, and thinking back on her words, he realised that she called him ‘Tom’, which meant that she acknowledged their shared history. Deciding that the silence had gone on for too long, he decided to make a joke,
“You know what would go great with this tea? Some muffins.”
Becky burst out in an awkward laugh, more out of relief than humour, as they reminisced upon that morning/brunch encounter.
Years ago, not quite three and more than two, she had been going out with Wayne. It was a different time: she was a younger girl who worried less about the world and where her life was heading, but her love for Japanese culture was at its zenith. One day she randomly saw a notice board that advertised a small group of guest speakers discussing the topic of Mindfulness, which was mildly interesting, but would not have been enough to engage her time if it had not been for the last topic on the schedule, which was titled ‘That was Zen, this is Tao’. She thought it was quite witty, and went along to listen to it specifically. For the first time in her life, she discovered that philosophy didn’t have to be dry and exclusive, because the young man giving the lecture was funny and sounded poignantly alive to her, his presentation not merely the product of someone reading off palm cards. The two had struck up a conversation afterwards, which Becky intentionally manoeuvred, much to his amusement.
Thomas had invited her out for coffee, where they shared some candid conversations and harmless flirting. While he seemed initially surprised that she had a boyfriend, it didn’t detract from the fun they had in exchanging witticisms and mock barbs, all the while teasing the other in various ways. He was different, it was obvious, but Becky couldn’t exactly figure him out; it was what drove her to spend more time with him after the lecture. Almost as if there seemed to be this haze around him, obscuring her true assessment of him. She listened sympathetically when he told her of his hang-ups involving a girl he was in love with, and she found it cute that he seemed rather uncomfortable discussing the topic of Sex in-person. Hearing him speak a little Japanese with her, almost as if they were part of the same club, only strengthened their rapport. Before they parted ways, he had ordered, for her, an entire platter of the most delicious muffins she had ever seen on display, which she had gotten take-away and shared with Tasha, forever dubbing him “The Mysterious Muffin Man.” Becky never saw him again, as the two had neglected to exchange contact details, and when she had checked with the other guest speakers, none of them could provide any details about him. Not that she was stalking him or anything like that; she just felt like she had met someone who cared about the deeper things in life, and that was rare amongst her then circle of friends. Who could have guessed that they would meet again, under such circumstances?
“You have a good memory, Tom. I suppose you philosopher types would need it, huh?”
He beamed at her,
“Actually, my memory is even better than most. You see, I simply hoard too much information: it’s a rather sentimental part of me that I’m working on.”
“Hoarding information, and feelings, right?” She was feeling better, much better than one could be expected to after the earlier revelation, and the tea helped calm her nerves. But perhaps she had said too much in this instance- while the smile of his lips did not fade, the smile of his eyes blanched somewhat, and his warmth receded. She desperately followed with,
“I’m sorry! I- I didn’t mean it like that, I just- I’ll shut up, sorry.”
Seeing how she was becoming flustered once more, he relaxed and softened his body language. Sighing, he said,
“No, no, it’s okay, I just haven’t thought about her in a while, and it’s not something I really want to talk about… so, how’s your life been?” He switched from sombre to chirpy so quickly Becky couldn’t help but marvel at the transition. She decided to match his light hearted tones,
“Oh you know, doing pretty well, considering everything. I got into post grad studies, and have been loving it so far. Health is good, money could be a little better, but other than that, can’t complain. Not without sounding like a First World bitch, anyway.”
“Wonderful! Um, let’s see…” Thomas tried to recall what he remembered about her from that coffee and conversation they shared years ago, and upon remembering their mutual fondness of Japanese culture, he asked her if she had been back since. Wistfully, she replied,
“No, I haven’t really been in a position to travel much. You?”
“Funny enough, after we had that coffee, I decided it was about time I visited the place, and have been there twice. You must have influenced me or something!” He laughed, and her old competitive mindset rose its head as she raised a brow and said,
“Of course! I was winning our verbal sparring last time, and it’s only natural you follow the advice of your betters!” Her mock haughtiness was well received, as he countered with,
“Puh-lease young lady, it was a stalemate– simply because I was being nice. How did you like baseball practice afterwards?”
“You know, I almost decided to skip training because of you! Almost. And I missed so many catches because I was dreaming of muffins the entire time I was on the field. But I think you’d be pleased to know that I didn’t take a single bite under after I got home, so there!” She stuck out her tongue playfully. He whistled in mock admiration, and spun her point around,
“Well, I didn’t take you for a quitter Becky, so I guess you could say you proved me right, and that maketh me the victor. Game, Set, Match!”
They laughed, and ceased the rivalry talk. It felt so easy, the two of them exchanging banter like this, and she was reminded as to the strange allure which had drawn her to him all those years ago; maybe it was that same allure that had drawn them together now, although that was just silly if she put any thought into it. Still, she couldn’t help but compare what had changed in that time: the Thomas Kei she met before was a friendly and composed person who seemed to be struggling with a lot of inner angst, which he hid with a grin. The man before her, while physically similar, aside from looking a little tanner, gaunter, and with shorter hair, had a certain air about him that suggested he had significantly matured, essentially trading his innocence for something that made him seem more dangerous. But that was surely a figment of her imagination, as he was currently nothing but smiles, making jokes and offering her tea, which wouldn’t make him very threatening in most people’s eyes. Still, Becky knew she had to look out for whatever it was she couldn’t discern at this very moment. She also figured that she should address the elephant in the room,
“So, I guess you might be wondering what I’m doing here, you know, as ‘Diana’.” With a slight discomfort, he shifted in his seat, and admitted,
“Well, I am curious, but I didn’t exactly want to give you another panic attack… just tell me one thing: is someone making you do this?” She was touched that his immediate concern was for her welfare, and decided to just come clean with him,
“No, I would hate to meet the kind of guy who thinks he could ‘make me do this’, to borrow your words. It’s really mundane, and I kinda feel a little embarrassed telling you, but our lease is up in a few weeks, and I really wanted to stay at my current place. Cliched, isn’t it?” Airily, but not unkindly, he drawled,
“Terribly so, you disappoint me greatly with your basicness, Becky. Hah, sorry, I shouldn’t be saying that. You mentioned ‘our lease’- does that mean you’re staying with friends, or maybe your boyfriend?”
“Friends, but one is moving out soon, getting engaged. Unlike me, who’s the opposite. Sorry, I’m recently single, my ex was cheating on me, not to mention a whole bunch of other girls, so I cut him loose like the deadweight that he is.” Quickly processing the new information, Thomas said,
“I hope you meant that figuratively. Though I do kinda get the femme fatale vibes from you. How long were you two together, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Roughly two and a half years. Probably less… Right before you and I met, actually.” That jogged something in Tom’s memories,
“I see. Oh, yeah, I seem to recall you saying he was rather handsome, but he didn’t like Japanese culture as much as you did- his loss, I suppose, for losing you as well. Um, and it was quite recently that you broke up with him?”
“Yeah,” she replied, flatly.
“And, you started this escorting side gig soon afterwards, right?”
“That’s right. What’s with all the questions, detective?”
Thomas chose his words carefully for the next part,
“Well, it just seems- it’s the timing of everything. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but don’t you think the whole ‘breaking up with a guy you’ve been with for years’, and ‘jumping into this industry’, might possibly be related?”
She understood what he was saying, and while she hadn’t thought of it that way, being driven on the expediency of the whole venture, it was entirely plausible that could be the case. Perhaps the whole psychology behind her agreeing to do this was to get over Wayne, which she would absolutely hate to admit. A little defensively, she explained,
“Hey, I appreciate the concern, but I’m doing fine Thomas. It’s not like doing this is any worse than the people who pay for this- oh sorry, I wasn’t making a dig at you! If anything, I’m just mad at myself for not waking up to his true nature sooner.” Unfazed, Thomas sympathised,
“He does sound like your run-of-the-mill bastard; I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself! No one can excuse being unfaithful, in body, if not in mind…”
“What do you mean?” Becky was intrigued, as that last part seemed more directed at himself than her problems. Thomas tried to brush it off as just a personal opinion, that even if one had feelings for another, everybody should be accountable for their actions. Becky pressed on, but he refused to say anything more, diverting the subject back to her,
“Anyway, I am just saying that this Wayne character should have had more chivalry, even if we are living in the modern age. Do you think he ever cared about you as much as you did for him?”
He had not meant it as anything other than as a means to determine the balance of affection in Becky’s previous relationship, but it had a disastrous effect on the poor girl, who almost dropped her cup as he unwittingly stumbled upon her Achilles Heel. She was already feeling quite vulnerable, and all this talk of the past had forced her to confront the feelings she had worked so hard to bury since her break-up. Between sobs, she vented to Tom about how it was a horrible time for the break-up to happen, that she felt as if her world was crumbling away beneath her feet, and how being an escort had sucked so much that she was quitting it. Thomas didn’t interrupt, even when she paused for breath, and just continued to listen while stroking her back gently. Gradually, she felt as if the painful tension was being coaxed out from the chambers of her heart, and she accepted a tissue to blow her nose, and wipe away the tears. Her nose remained blocked, however, and she sounded very wooden as she thanked him for his patience.
“You’ve been a treasure, Tom, I dunno how to thank you for listening to my problems.”
He smiled at her, trying not to laugh at how cute she sounded, before teasing,
“You sound adorable right now, Becky-san. How old are you again, twelve?”
She chuckled for a bit, before consciously stopping herself,
“No, I’m twenty-three, sorry to disappoint you. And don’t make me laugh! I never learned how to breathe through my mouth properly, which is almost fatal anytime I catch a cold.”
Hearing this, he got up, and stood behind her as she remained sitting on the couch,
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”
He placed his hands on her head and neck, before running his fingers along her shoulders and upper back. She sat, mesmerised by his fingers that seemed to unblock all the tension in her neck and face. When he reached her cheeks, he placed pressure inwards and continued to move his fingers towards her sinuses, followed by directing them to the centre of her forehead, and finally back down to her ear lobes.
“Swallow, please.”
It took her a moment to register what he meant, as she almost misinterpreted it, but complied nonetheless. To her great delight, her nose was no longer blocked, and her head felt much clearer! Overjoyed, she exclaimed,
“Woah, what did you d-”
“Shhh, I’m not done, and the next part is critical.”
She obeyed, paying renewed attention to what he was doing, and he resumed rubbing parts of her face in a circular fashion, this time focusing under her eyes. He then started stroking in an outward direction from her nose, and ran his magical fingers through her hair, keeping the tips firmly on her scalp, and followed the path back to the base of her neck and shoulders. Twice more, he instructed her to swallow, and breathe deeply, in and out. Slowly, Tom pulled back his hands, and observed his handiwork; he was pleased to see she was looking livelier. Like many people who he had done this for, she had a lot of questions about what just happened. Her impromptu masseur explained,
“Your passages were getting blocked, and your internal flow was haphazard and interrupted, so I massaged the blockages out through your lymph nodes, mainly under your ear lobes, and even promoted better circulation in your face. Can you breathe better now?”
She nodded in response, absorbed by what he had told her. Taking in her surroundings with a new state of mind, she noticed that his home had a very minimalist aesthetic, adorned by various oriental items, and a bookcase in the corner. She also realised that it was past 10pm by now, and she needed to get back before Tasha got worried. Tom insisted on taking her home, which she accepted as he really wouldn’t take no for an answer, though excused herself to use the bathroom before they left. Inside, she texted her friend to assure her nothing was wrong, as Tasha would be growing worried.
Becky: Hey girl, got caught up here, doing fine, I’ll be back soon.
Tasha: Yeah girl! I hope you had a good time, see you soon, love ya xoxo
Becky: It’s complicated, tell you later, byez!
It didn’t take too long to get to her place, and Thomas walked her to the entrance of the apartment building because “it was what a gentleman does for a lady.” She remarked upon how lucky it was they could bump into each other again, to which he countered with,
“No, Becky, this wasn’t mere luck: kore wa Unmei desu (this was Fate). Doesn’t that make it sound more meaningful?” Becky never previously believed in Fate, but tonight was something that exceeded her wildest imaginations.
“Hah, yeah, it defs does. Thanks Tom, you’ve been so caring and sweet tonight, and that thing you did with my head was incredible, you could make a lot of money doing that! If you don’t already- I dunno what you philosophers do for money.” She had said this to probe his background a little more, but Thomas just smiled and stated,
“To para-quote Mark Twain, if I were paid to do something I enjoyed, I would soon grow to detest it. So right now, I just offer it to my very special friends and acquaintances. Don’t you feel privileged?”
“Hah, so very privileged! Um, listen, if you’re not busy tomorrow, let me take you out to dinner. There’s an amazing ramen place around the corner, which I think you’d enjoy.”
“Oh, you’re too gracious, there’s no need for that. But if you’re free tomorrow, let me take you out for dinner, at a ramen place around the corner from here, which a friend of mine highly recommends.” Realising what he meant, Becky gasped,
“Ooooh, I can’t believe you have the nerve! Alright then, which direction is this great ramen place located then, mister?”
Thomas merely grinned, unabashed, before replying with,
“I’m not too sure, I’d have to ask her first.” Staring at him, she just said,
“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?” She may have sounded indignant but she was amused nonetheless. He knew this, cheekily smirking back,
“Guilty as charged, but I know you enjoy it.” She did, but she wasn’t going to just admit it to him, so she compromised,
“Hmph! Maybe. Okay, let’s meet here at 6pm tomorrow, and we’ll fight over the check after dinner, Asian style, okay?”
“Agreed! Oyasumi Becky-hime (Goodnight Princess Becky).” He took her hand and kissed it, which was very old fashioned, but also rather endearing. She giggled before returning the salutations,
“Goodnight Tom, drive safely okay?”
He nodded and returned to his car. It was only when he was out of sight that she reached for her keys, and realised that her jacket had a stowaway- a plain enveloped addressed to “Diana”, filled with a thousand dollars in identical denominations. Thinking for a moment, she deduced that he must have slipped it into her jacket when she had gone to the bathroom, and as she didn’t need to wear her jacket in the car, the cash had gone unnoticed until now. Becky didn’t hesitate- she knew that she had to return this to him tomorrow, and there was no way he would be able to convince her otherwise.
Chapter 6: Do you know the Muffin Man?
“Okay girl, spill the beans, who was that guy!?”
Tasha had been waiting up for her, drinking cup after cup of coffee, just in case Becky never came home, and she would consequently have to get the police involved. Becky hesitated, wondering if it would be appropriate for her to talk about someone who was technically a client of Azure Pure, but Tasha reasoned that because they were both part of the agency it was merely a peer review, which was very different to gossip. As Becky also trusted Tasha to keep things confidential, she explained who Thomas was, and how they shared some history. Reeling from the revelation, Tasha exclaimed,
“Hold up Becky: you’re saying Mr K is The Muffin Man?! Now I know why you were late… you were letting him sample your baked goods, right?”
“Tasha!” Becky blushed, and threw one of their many assorted throw pillows at her, which missed because Tasha ducked, and then returned fire, and it culminated into a fluffy pillowy war. Eventually, they declared a ceasefire, somewhat out of breath but in good spirits. Becky confessed that she had experienced some kind of meltdown while over at his place, and mentioned how supportive he had been throughout the entire process. In many ways, he had been her therapist when she was supposed to have been his entertainer, and that head massage she had received at the end was beyond belief. Misconstruing, Tasha suggestively interpreted the encounter as,
“So, he was rubbing your ‘cheeks’ and all of a sudden you could breathe again. These weren’t your butt cheeks by any chance, were they?”
“NO! I’m talking about my face cheeks, Natasha! Stop making this so sexual, he was a perfect gentleman, I’ll have you know!” Tasha was now convinced that no sex had transpired this evening, and acquiesced.
“Fine, fine, okay, I get it! Seeing as how he was being so nice to you, I thought you must have offered him a little sweet encouragement, that’s all. But from what I hear he sounds too good to be true- must be secretly married, or a serial killer, or both? Oooh that would be so exciting- he kills escorts to stop his wife finding out, but we find out later that he’s killed his wife long ago, and the experience broke him mentally!”
What began as Tasha’s wild speculations soon raised a good number of valid suspicions, and it was then that Becky realised how he avoided talking much about himself as she was pouring her troubles in front of him. There was a certain poetic symmetry to that, as he was the one who had opened up about his own love life, or lack thereof, all those years ago, and that was when they had known even less about each other than they did now. She broke the conversation pace, informing Tasha,
“Well, it doesn’t matter, we’re not going to be here in two weeks, so he’d better kill us soon if he’s that kinda guy. And I didn’t get the feeling that he was messing about behind someone’s back- not that I’m great at that. Look, he paid me the full amount, plus extra, and I didn’t even do anything for him, so I’m glad I invited him to have ramen tomor-”
“You mean later today.” It was past midnight, technically making it the next day, but Becky wouldn’t back down,
“Fuck that, it’s not tomorrow until you go to sleep, everyone knows that. Anyway, I invited him here tomorrow, and I’m going to pay for dinner. AND I’ll return his money!”
“Oooh, you’re so masterful when you’re determined to do things your way, Rebecca! Hey, can I come too? I wanna finally meet the Muffin Man!” This was meant to be a date, and Tasha being there would kill the vibe!
“No way in hell.” A flat refusal didn’t sound promising, but Tasha knew better than to accept the first offer, and said with a playfully imploring whine,
“Awww, come on, don’t leave me out Becky! You met this guy again by getting involved in something we both agreed to do, so at least let me ride it out with you!”
Becky raised an eyebrow at that innuendo, which Tasha figured out a moment later, and burst out in laughter at her own unwitting wordplay.
‘What? Oh, not like that! I’m not into Asians anyway, unlike you- I just wanna meet the guy who looked out for my bestie, can you get where I’m coming from?” Tasha pouted her lips and batted her eyes, which finally won over the other girl.
“Fiiiine! You can come to dinner with us, I don’t think he’d mind, to be honest, but under no circumstances are you to refer to him as ‘The Muffin Man’, agreed?”
“Pinky swear, cross my heart, and hope to die! Are we good?” Becky relented, and at that moment realised that she was starving; food was the last thing on her mind in the last couple of hours, but it was all she could think of now. Tasha grinned, and told her she had saved her something for dinner. Grateful, Becky enquired,
“You’re a life saver Tasha, I could eat anything right now, that’s how hungry I am! What’s on the menu?” With a devilish grin, the other girl said,
“I can heat you up some leftover Chinese food, or some muffins: what do you want?”
Without saying anything, Becky channelled her innate pitcher’s instincts and threw another throw pillow at her teasing friend, this time landing it square in the face. Tasha pretended to be livid.
“Oh hell no, we had a cease fire! I’m gonna get all Geneva Convention on ya, girl!” Becky huffed back,
‘You were asking for it! And that doesn’t even make sense!”
“You don’t make sense!”
“I’m the only one who’s making sense!”
After another mini pillow conflict escalated, their apartment was looking more and more like a war zone. Becky gave up first, too hungry to continue their play fighting, and she apologised to Tasha, blaming a combination of the evening and hunger for that “unwarranted attack on her flawless features”.
Munching away on the microwaved dinner, she couldn’t help but reflect on what Tasha had pointed out before- she knew why they were doing escort work, but why would Thomas Kei solicit hookers, even high-class ones from Azure Pure? It didn’t make sense to her, because he clearly wasn’t the kind of guy who couldn’t meet girls normally, in her opinion, and didn’t even seem all that interested in having sex, at least not from what she gathered on him. Then again, he had seen a few escorts before her, and they had all been blonde bimbo types… maybe he really was the same as all guys, and she was just giving him too much credit. After eating she was too tired to shower, but she did take care to remove her make-up; a lot of girls neglected to do it after they had been out, but she knew that her skin wouldn’t be very happy the next morning if she left the stuff on. She shuddered to think about what Tom would think if he saw her the next night with pimples!
The next morning was mostly spent cleaning up the aftermath of last night’s pillow fights, as well as general tidying. Although it wasn’t explicitly stated, there was a chance she would invite Tom back afterwards, and she didn’t want him to think she lived like a slob. Speaking of which, she should inform him that Tasha wanted to join them for dinner, to which he had replied with a simple “the more the merrier, hope she’s as cool as you”. Oh boy, was he going to get a surprise.
In no time at all the day slipped by and at quarter to six, he sent her a text message indicating that he was finding a parking spot, and would be outside the building soon. Tasha had taken up sentry duty by the window, exclaiming excitedly when he made his way to the front of their building, and waited for the girls to come downstairs.
“Hey Becky, I see him! Let’s go and say hi!”
“Hang on, I’m almost done, give me a minute!”
Fifteen minutes later they went down to meet him at the apartment’s main entrance. Tasha took in his appearance with greater scrutiny than her window view allowed, and had to admit that, for an Asian guy, he wasn’t bad looking at all: sharp facial angles and clean features, all lightly brushed by a light olive/tan complexion. That playful smile of his was warm and inviting, while his mysterious, soulful eyes seemed to draw one in even further. He wasn’t the tallest man, only a little above average (6ft is average right?), but he did boast a solid build with broad shoulders; plus, he was still taller than them even if they had chosen to wear heels, which they didn’t. His fashion choice was classic, sporting black trousers and a fitted black shirt that accentuated a toned body, all topped off with a light red casual-formal jacket. Not quite a poster boy for Calvin Klein, but he clearly held passable fashion senses, which really wasn’t all so difficult for a guy, in her opinion. There was also an indiscernible presence he had about himself, perhaps due to his exemplary posture, and he was evidently rich enough to afford escorts, which ironically didn’t hurt a man’s chances with the ladies. Becky’s friend began to turn on the charm as she introduced herself,
“Why hello there stranger, I’m Natasha, but you can just call me Tasha! Becky only calls me by my full name when she’s mad at me, which is too often heh!” Amused by her forwardness, Tom played along,
“A pleasure to meet you Tasha- I’m Thomas, but you can just call me Tom. I’m sure Becky only calls me Thomas when she’s mad at me too, right?”
As Tasha shook his hand, she also took note of his curiously polished accent, which seemed to indicate he was cultured and educated, and definitely spoke quality English, but there was still a chance he could be foreign too. Becky just rolled her eyes at Tasha, before she and Tom shared a friendly embrace.
‘Hey Becky, I like your friend, you’re right: she’s almost as cool as you.” His playful wink made Becky smile as Tasha looked over to her direction, and Becky decided to play along.
“Well, Thomas, didn’t I specifically say to not mention that in front of her!?”
“Oh no, save me Tasha, she’s mad at me for no reason!”
The three of them all enjoyed goofing off, and the mild awkwardness of meeting someone new may as well not have been present as the three continued their way towards the ramen bar. Tom found it amusing that the place was literally called ‘The Ramen Baaaah’, which featured a cute anime sheep as its mascot. He was also fondly reminded of the service one could expect in Japan, when the three walked in and were greeted by the staff in the traditional “Irasshaimase! (Welcome Customers!)”
Thomas followed the girls to that one spot they had since claimed as theirs by the ancient right of ‘Regulars Status’, and they perused the menu. While Becky and Tasha already knew what they wanted, a beef and chicken ramen respectively, their guest took a while longer to choose, as he flicked through the menu back and forth. At length, he decided on a vegetable ramen, as well as some crispy fried chicken pieces to share with the table.
“Man, I love the karaage (fried chicken) here, great choice Tom!” Tasha approved of his selection, and he was reminded of a girl he had met in Osaka, who adored karaage: Paris would get along with her, he was certain. Becky commented on his choice of ramen, and enquired if it was motivated by any health reasons. She and Tasha were amazed to hear that when he was younger, he never ate meat, and had only started in the latter half of his life.
“I once said to my good friend Orlando that I could probably give up meat again, but chicken is one tasty bird, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Amen to that!” Both girls agreed.
A waitress came by to get their order, and nodded at the girls, indicating that they had met before.
“Hi, what would you like to order today?” She was chirpy and friendly, as a young waitress was meant to be, and they relayed their orders. When asked if they wanted anything to drink, Tasha ordered peach iced tea, while Tom and Becky opted to share a pot of green tea that was brewed with roasted grains. Their drinks arrived fairly soon, but it would be a while for the dishes to be prepared, which none of them minded as they continued to get to know each other better.
“So, Tom, it’s really great to meet you, as I’ve heard so much about this ‘Mysterious Muffin Man with the Magic Hands’, according to Becky.” Tasha smirked, with eyes full of mischief.
Her friend was aghast, as Tasha had let slip a lot of information in revealing that moniker, hissing,
“Tasha, you swore you wouldn’t call him that!”
Smiling coyly, Tasha denied accountability,
“No Becky, my exact words were that I wouldn’t call him ‘The Muffin Man’, not ‘The Mysterious Muffin Man with the Magic Hands’. You should have paid more attention to the Terms and Conditions!”
Glaring at her friend, then looking apologetically at Tom, Becky explained,
“I’m so sorry Tom, I told her about the muffins years ago, she was one of the people I shared them with.”
Tom was quite amused by the nickname, and started to chant the nursery rhyme from which it was derived, with Tasha and Becky joining in.
“Do you know The Muffin Man?”
“The Muffin Man?”
“The Muffin Man!”
“Yes, I know the Muffin Man, the one who lives on Drury Lane? Hah!” The three were enjoying the general silliness, but then Tom enquired about the other part of his moniker.
“I get the Muffin Man part now, but what’s this about my ‘magic hands’?”
“Becky told me you unblocked her chakras or something last night, is that correct?”
“Oh! Oh that. Well that was just some basic massage combined with pressure point knowledge. Nothing special, I assure you, though I’m glad it worked well. If you two ever need another cleanse, and I’m around, I’ll happily do it again.”
Tasha was intrigued, and made a mental note to herself to see if she couldn’t score a free massage from him sometime. With Becky’s permission of course- the last thing she’d want to do was make her best friend think she was moving in on her territory.
Their food arrived, and they continued to talk and eat while savouring the dishes. Is it not remarkable, how company can affect the taste of dishes that are eaten regularly? Everything tasted much better tonight, in Becky’s opinion, even though the food here had always been above average. Thomas enjoyed his ramen, and agreed with the girls that the broth was sublime, a fusion of stocks and flavours combined to create this rich and hearty soup. He found himself getting philosophical as he ate, and explained,
“You know, to become a true ramen chef, much practice is needed to get even the basics right, but mastering the basics is a sign of the highest culinary skills. Or at least, my father, who is a chef, used to say that. With gourmet ramen, as with many things in Japan, the principles of Shinto must be present for a dish to receive the blessings of a grandmaster. From the formation of the broth, the thickness of the noodles, and the deliberate selection of the toppings, a symbolic universe is formed as the various ingredients swirl and homogenise, first figuratively in the bowl, and then literally as we chew, swallow, and digest, imbibing that miniature universe within us. Thus, we see how the universe created by our hands has always been part of the greater universal ‘soup’ we all belong to… just some thoughts, I hope I haven’t bored you?” Thomas suddenly broke from his small speech and became apologetic for spearheading the conversation. Both girls were listening intently, all eyes on him, but he was concerned that it could merely be politeness.
However, if that was the case, they were superb actresses for enthusiastically requesting to hear him continue, but he was mostly done, and joked that he didn’t want to be guilty of “mansplaining”, a concept where a dude patronised others, usually women, by elaborating on matters which are already widespread and common, while also expecting to be praised for their supposed wealth of knowledge. Not that the metaphysics of ramen were things that most people talked about, but Tom had a way of bringing up esoteric knowledge in his everyday life- it was how one became proficient at said ideas, by constantly applying them to their everyday lives. Becky could see Tasha was impressed, not just because of his knowledge of Oriental concepts, but because he spoke unabashedly about something he was interested in; that passion tended to carry over to the people listening.
“You should have heard him talk about Zen at that mindfulness seminar I went to years ago. He was easily the most interesting speaker there.” Waving her off, Tom bashfully said,
“Oh, stop it you, I’m going to get self-conscious if you keep that up! You know, you two have such a great dynamic, so familiar and synchronised. How long have you known each other?” He had begun playful, but switched to a more serious question.
“Well, Tom, since you ask, we’ve technically been around each other since before we were born.” Becky and Tasha were proud to have a long-standing friendship, and it showed. Tom continued,
“Gasp, incredible! But, how is that possible- don’t tell me you knew each other from a past life or something?” Tasha laughed heartily, before saying,
“Haha, probably, but nah, it’s not like that!”
The girls then explained that their mothers had been friends too, and had gotten pregnant around the same time with both of them. Becky was born first, and Tasha a few weeks later. They were basically raised together until their mothers had a falling out sometime around the girls’ teenage years, but that didn’t stop the two of them from staying best friends, even moving in together for the last couple of years. Tom sounded impressed as he related,
“That’s even more amazing than I expected! I thought nobody could match the friendship I have with my xuang di Vik, but you two could give us a run for our money. You’re practically sisters, hey?”
He looked at the two of them, sitting side by side, and realised that Tasha and Becky did share a lot of mannerisms, and could pass as some form of biological relatives, though perhaps not sisters per se. Both were pretty, young Caucasian girls, but with their own distinct avenues of beauty. Tasha was willowy with light blue eyes and wavy sandy coloured hair; her wild smile suggested she enjoyed having fun in the ‘Here and Now’. Becky also looked as if she knew how to have a good time, though could appear more mature in her mannerisms, and her thick darker hair was braided in a way that Tom found particularly enticing. When she wasn’t crying, her emerald eyes were thoughtful as well as seeming to offer a challenge, especially when she smirked. Also, she had curvier proportions to Tasha, who wasn’t flat chested by any means, but could not compete with Becky’s ample cleavage: the other girl did have shapelier thighs though, which suited her greater height.
He stopped his inward comparisons before he could draw too much attention from the girls, and they continued to make general conversation while finishing the food. When it came to paying the bill, Thomas and Becky dug in their heels and respectively insisted on covering the expenses. Eventually Thomas gave way as he understood how much it meant to her; rarely had he encountered a girl who would insist on paying for him. Unfortunately for Becky, she had won the battle but not the war, as it turned out that the EFTPOS machines were down and as such, only cash payments were possible. Unlike the two girls, Thomas actually did keep cash on him, being old fashioned like that, and quickly covered the meal, allowing them to go their way.
“Don’t be sad Becky, this was Fate, and you can’t fight Fate, right?”
Becky glumly nodded, convinced that the Universe was against her. He was gracious in victory, however, and proposed that they get ice cream, which she could pay for. They left the ice cream parlour in better spirits, and made their way back to the girls’ apartment, where Becky offered him some wine, but he declined in favour of tea. She and Tasha helped themselves to a glass of fruity shiraz while Tom sipped on a cup of green tea- it was the ordinary bagged kind, which he normally shunned, but didn’t find it too bad in this case as Becky made sure to not leave the bag in for too long. Tasha, who enjoyed wine but was the type to get easily inebriated, chimed in,
“Yeah, you know our Becky, she just loves tea bags, doesn’t she? That girl simply can’t get enough of them no matter what she’s up to. I suppose you could say she’s a girl who loves getting tea bagged any chance she gets.”
Thomas didn’t get the reference, which came from online gaming, but Becky glowered at her friend; sure, she had dated lots of guy in the past, but it wasn’t as if she slept with just anyone. And since breaking up with Wayne, whom she had been faithful to, she had inadvertently managed to not sleep with anyone else either. Also, unlike Tasha, who enjoyed the company of a different man on a semi regular basis, she needed a better reason than ‘just because she could’. The irony that she had reunited with Tom as a sex worker was further highlighted by the fact that she hadn’t had any actual sex since starting this whole venture- not even mouth and hand stuff! But that might change tonight, as she was enjoying the way the wine loosened her inner tensions, and Tom was definitely eyeing her (and Tasha to a lesser degree) in all the right places. She sent Tasha ‘The Code’, which was received with a knowing wink, and the routine initialised. With an exaggerated yawn, Tasha suddenly got up and nonchalantly said to no one in particular,
“I’m so tired right now, I’d better hit the hay. It was lovely getting to know you, Tom the Muffin Man, I do hope to see you around sometime!” With that she slipped away to her room and closed the door, where no further sounds could be heard. With a lowered voice, Tom wondered if he should go, as to not disturb her rest, but that’s when they heard Tasha, all the way from her closed room, yell out that she was a heavy sleeper and no amount of noise or vibrations would cause her to wake! Both just grinned and shook their heads, and Becky suggested,
“We can have more privacy in my room, that way she won’t hear us talk. By the way, did you buy her acting?”
“It was a performance worthy of internet porn.”
Leading him to her room, she quietly shut the door, and was reminded of something important.
“Oh yeah, this is for you.” She passed him the envelope full of cash he had slipped into her jacket last night. Unopened. He looked at it, and pushed it back towards her.
“That was your fee for coming out to see me, you deserve it, so I can’t take it back.” It was a lot of money, but Becky wasn’t interested,
“No, Tom, you’ve been a gentleman the entire time I’ve known you, so don’t treat me like I’m some cheap hooker now.” He still refused,
“I cannot accept, it’s only fair that you get compensated for your time. An escort is paid for her company, remember? Anything else is her own prerogative.” He echoed what everyone said about the industry, but with nary a trace of sarcasm. She was touched, but adamant,
“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say, but let’s be real here- a client would feel cheated if the girl they paid for suddenly decided she ‘wasn’t in the mood’. Of course, if she didn’t take their money then they can go fuck themselves. Oh, pardon me, I normally don’t swear, I swear! Oh, but not like that- you know what I mean! Um… okay, Look, even if we weren’t friends, I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
He hesitated, and then reluctantly accepted the envelope, which made her feel better, but also made her respect him more: he had just shown that he was steadfast in his beliefs, but was willing to compromise on them when necessary. Wayne, that prick, was always so stubborn about getting his own way, and she knew that in hindsight it was probably a big red flag. The wine, combined with how much she liked his quirky sense of chivalry, caused her to do something bold.
“Thanks, Tom. Here’s how much I appreciate it.”
She pulled him in, and kissed him gently, with a slow, drawn-out passion. He looked at her, slightly taken aback, but returned the kiss, their tongues flickering in and out as they tasted each other for the first time. She was growing ever more flushed as her body, already warm from the alcohol, began to burn with desire: she wasn’t kidding when she mentioned that it had been weeks since she had any kind of sexual relief, and it had been building towards an earthquake of unfulfilled needs. As he ran his hands all over her body, those strong and magical hands that she had grown to crave the feeling of since yesterday, her breathing quickened in response to the new stimuli, and her mind knew exactly what she wanted right now. Leading him to the bed, she savoured the anticipation, and was eager to-
“Hang on a sec, Becky.”
That snapped her out of her mood, as she was presented with the reality of the situation: Thomas was looking rather uneasy, and seemed to struggle with some private internal thoughts. This was a first for Becky, as she had never encountered a man who hadn’t immediately wanted to jump into bed with her, when invited, but seeing him in the dim light of her room, she could tell that he was holding back something- maybe he didn’t have a condom with him? Taking deep breaths to regain her composure, and trying to make sense of the situation, as well as the slight blow to her ego, she asked him,
“What’s wrong, Tom? I’m on birth control, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He laughed nervously, shaking his head, and replied,
“That’s very responsible of you, and I’d expect nothing less, but don’t you wanna think about this first?”
“What’s there to think about? I’m a girl, you’re a guy, we get along, and I’m horny… Wait a minute… are you… gay?” Tom raised his brows with amusement,
“Hah, very funny, do I kiss like a gay man?”
She thought back to the earlier moment when they locked lips, and she definitely felt his attraction, unless he was better at faking it than she was… impossible, he was a guy, they couldn’t fake these things. Then her insecurities got the best of her, and wild thoughts flitted across her mind. Struggling not to let her voice break, she asked him, as neutrally as possible,
“Is it me? Am I not- am I not your type? Or maybe, you just don’t wanna sleep with a prostitute… that’s it, isn’t it?” Shocked, Tom quickly rebutted her,
“What? NO! I don’t care about that, and from what I gathered, you haven’t really done any ‘prostituting’ since you started this job anyway. It’s just… I’m really enjoying our time together, and I didn’t want to complicate things by sleeping with you so soon. I can’t stop thinking about your ass in that dress right now, it’s making it hard to think clearly, but I am a man of principles.”
It dawned on her, as her self-confidence began to revive. It was his archaic nobility that was getting in the way of the hot and steamy sex they could be having right now. It was so old-fashioned that it seemed laughable, but she managed to restrain herself upon that realisation, and decided that he just needed some more coaxing.
“Well, in that case, how would you like to see my ass, without the dress getting in the way?”
Removing the light green summer dress Tasha had picked out specifically to highlight her eyes, she kept them on him as she slid out of her clothes, letting it fall to the floor with a barely audible rustle of fabric, and teasingly spun around, so he could view her entire body, before approaching him. He languidly caressed her shoulders, stroking her arm, and moving in to kiss her once more, a deeper and more carnal desire now awakened within. She expertly removed his jacket, and shirt, and pants, until it was just him and her, both in their underwear, staring into each other’s eyes. She whispered to him,
“Remember what you said to me, all those years ago, about how we shouldn’t overthink things?” Swallowing to rewet his dry mouth, he tried to maintain his gaze as he corrected her,
“You actually said that to me. What I said was that trying too hard interferes with the Natural Way.” With a hand on his cheek, she softly said,
“Exactly, Mr K. Don’t worry, I’m a big girl who can make her own decisions, and I know I want this. The only thing I don’t know is, do you?”
He kissed her again, deeply, even more so than before, and started to move down, peppering her neck with light pecks and the occasional lick that made her weak in the knees. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, the giddiness and tickling making her giggle. Then he moved to kissing along her collarbone, followed by her chest, where he breathed in her scent between her heaving bosom; she imagined that her essence was becoming a part of his, emboldening him. He knelt down and tentatively kiss her stomach area, almost as if he was worshipping her. At the same time, his left hand extended into the air behind her, and he ran his fingers down her back, driving her wild as a soft moan escaped her lips. His right hand began caressing her inner thighs, where she could feel a dull ache slowly build up inside her. The next part was incredible hot, as he stood up and simultaneous swept her off her feet, carrying her to the bed bridal style, and landed in bed while she was still in his arms- all without crushing her. For Becky, it felt like she was about to lose her first time all over again, which was unfortunately ironic, because he didn’t end up having sex with her that night.
Chapter 7: Sweetly Professional
“Wait a minute, hold up girl! Are you telling me you two didn’t get biz-zay last night?! I’m pretty sure I heard you two canoodling before I switched off for real, so what the hell happened?!”
Like all best friends, Tasha was eager to hear the details the next morning. To her disappointment, and Becky’s, there were not that many details to share.
“We were getting into it, and then he got a text message, apologised, and put his clothes back on, while I was watching him from bed, wondering what the hell was important enough to interrupt us… He kissed me goodnight, and promised he’d call me today, but I dunno, I get the feeling that maybe he just wanted an excuse to back out. Am I ugly?” Her dejected tone was a cause for concern to Tasha, who rebuked her fiercely,
“No way Becky, you’re hot, don’t ask such a stupid question again or I’ll slap you!” Somewhat reassured, Becky said,
“Thanks, I just needed a compliment. I mean, I thought he was into me, but there was something off. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised- when I first met him, he didn’t seem all that comfortable talking about sex, and even got defensive when I asked him when his last time was, which was a little rude I’ll admit, but I was younger and dumber then. When I saw him again, in my room yesterday, he seemed like he was different… so why didn’t he try to fuck me?!” Clucking sympathetically, and equally puzzled, Tasha listed,
“We ruled out his secret wife, and the serial killing hobby, for now anyway. Maybe he’s gay, Becky. I told you, if he seems too good to be true, it means he probably is.” Shaking her head, Becky said,
“No, I definitely would know if he was gay, okay? He was literally inhaling me during the foreplay, which I doubt he could do if he was into dudes. Plus, I could tell he was getting hard, so it must be something else. It’s just so frustrating to think what it could be!”
Tasha took the moment to poke fun of her friend, who was getting too worked-up thinking about all the great sex she didn’t have last night,
“Yeah, you sound really frustrated right now, but you could always do something about it, right? You know, with something that goes brrrrzzzz!”
Becky just rolled her eyes but smiled bitterly; though she did think about using a vibrator on herself last night, the whole Tom situation was so bizarre that she just wasn’t in the mood to follow through.
“Not until I get to the bottom of this, it’s really driving me nuts, and no, it’s not just because I’m sexually frustrated, okay? No guy has ever turned me down; even if their mothers were on fire, they’d just finish quicker than usual and THEN go save whatever was left. Okay, heart to heart, for real, do you think it’d help if I dyed my hair blonde?”
They recalled that all the previous girls Thomas had solicited were blondes, which led to Tasha (and secretly Becky as well) wanting to contact those previous escorts to see if they could get some answers. For sex workers, sometimes a reference was important for new clients, so a lot of the girls in the business kept a basic log of their clients- nothing too major, just enough to keep tabs on people who might be repeat offenders, and therefore needed to become blacklisted. Of the four girls Tom had met with, three got back to them within an hour, which Becky was grateful for. This was when things got weirder: apparently, Thomas didn’t have sex with any of the girls, who had tried their best to tempt him via suggestive poses, without any clothes on. Yet the man wouldn’t budge, despite still seeming interested. As he was the client, and he paid well, they simply chalked it up to a fetish of some sort- the latter was a common enough occurrence that the experienced escorts weren’t particularly concerned.
“Yeah, I can totally imagine someone getting their jollies from giving money away, that makes sense!”, Tasha said sarcastically. Becky was secretly gladdened for two reasons: it wasn’t just her, and she had gotten the closest to actually having sex him. It gave her hope, and hope was what she needed as she waited for him to call, in between helping Tasha take a list of all the things they had to do before moving out in roughly a week. It was past 2pm when he sent her a message, asking if he could call, and she only made him wait ten minutes before responding. She didn’t want to appear too eager by replying immediately, but she couldn’t wait either, that was how badly she wanted to hear from him. Chill, Becky, be cool: that was what she told herself as she answered the phone call following her text (it was only 2 minutes and 16 seconds from text to call, so she felt like the victor),
“Hello?” She hoped she sounded chill and unbothered.
“Hey Becky, I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just wanted to say sorry for having to bolt last night. Please know that as a consequence, my balls are now bluer than a smurf’s, though it’s a shame they’re not as large.”
She laughed, and reassured him that it was alright,
“Hah, it’s alright, I’m sure whatever you had to do was important.”
“Yeah, my niece had a bit of a temperature so I went to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy to get her something to help her sleep, and check on her condition. I stayed up a bit just to make sure she was okay too, which is why I didn’t call you sooner, I only woke up a while ago.”
He briefly explained the story, and her heart melted when she heard that his sister had died over a year ago, leaving behind a beautiful baby girl (whose dad wasn’t in the picture either). She felt selfish for thinking that he was making up an excuse last night, when in reality he was just being a good guy, a caring uncle. But when she tried to ask him more about it, he grew evasive, and she filed it away as something to ask him about later. Changing the topic, he asked her,
‘So anyway, if you’re not sick of seeing me so many days in a row, would you let me make it up to you with dinner? There’s a French place I’ve been thinking of checking out, but it’d be a shame if I had to dine alone, not to mention kind of sad, right?” Amused at his attempts at winning her over with light pity, she responded in kind,
“Yes, that would be very depressing to watch. Since we’re such good friends, I can’t let you do that, can I?” She wanted to see if using the F word [friend] would trigger any response, but he was unaffected as ever,
“Exactly! And afterwards, if you’ve got time, I’d like to talk to you about something back at my place. Is that okay?”
“Ooooh, sounds kinky, count me in, Tom. Is the place fancy?” She figured that if she was being invited back to his place they were going to do more than just talk. He was playful as he confirmed,
“Of course, Becky-hime, only the finest for you.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure I am appropriately dressed. I’m so excited Tom! What time should I expect you?”
He told her that he would pick her up at half past six, and they ended the call there. She sighed inwardly: she used the term ‘friends’ to try and gauge his interest levels, but he didn’t take the bait. She would need to make her shot count tonight, and with Tasha’s help, she spent the next couple of hours making sure that her hair, make up, and general image were flawless. She even put on her light blue strapless dress that absolutely accentuated her hourglass figure, and Tasha gave her some silicone pads to use in her bra, because “it never hurts to be perkier”. God bless her bestie, Becky thought.
Tom was there a little earlier than half past six, which was fine with Becky as she was so anxiously waiting for him. She went downstairs to join him, and he drove them to a place on the other side of town called ‘Le Freres Heureux’. It was upscale, with ambient classical harp music drifting throughout the restaurant, and a cascading water feature that overlooked the river, which accentuated its aquatic le motif. They perused through the menu, and Becky was a little taken aback by how expensive everything was, as well as a little intimidated by the menu, which was mainly written in French.
“Wow, can you read French, Tom!?”
He smiled, eyes twinkling, before responding with,
“No, mademoiselle, je ne lis pas le Francais.” Amused, she asked,
“And what does that mean?”
“No, I don’t read French. I don’t speak it either, but I know a few words that can come in handy from time to time. Such as J’aimerais pouvoir t’embrasser.” A passing waiter heard Tom and walked away with a smirk, which made Becky adamant that Tom was messing her, saying,
“You’re joking, right? Stop teasing me! What did you even say anyway? The guy was giving us a look that suggested it was about me, right?!” She pretended to be mad at him, but he just smiled, amused by her antics.
“I wouldn’t tease such a lovely young lady, especially one as beautifully attired as you are right now. I meant to say it earlier, but you are the vision of a goddess.”
The words would be corny from a less sophisticated man, but they flattered and mollified her, as she agreed that she was very dolled up and dressed to impress this evening. Still, she wouldn’t give in, and continued to press him about the fact that he seemed to understand the foreign menu. Elaborating, he told her,
“My xuang di (sworn brother) speaks French, so I learned snippets when I used to go and hang out around his family. But mostly, well, it’s due to my philosopher’s training.” She gave him a look that was half skeptical, half enquiring, and he responded with,
“No, really! All the Latin and Greek terms I learned, combined with a love of etymology, means that I can sort of guess the menu. For instance, see the word ‘poulet’ on the menu? It shares the same root in language as ‘poultry’ in English, so I would determine that it’s chicken. If we were dining at a Spanish restaurant, I would make the same deduction with the word ‘pollos’. See? Easy once you are used to it!”
Becky was impressed, because despite how he framed it, it wasn’t possible without a large framework of the Latin-based languages to draw upon. She also asked him about his work, but he sidestepped that question, and continued talking about his tenuous grasp on other languages,
“Do you recall that conversation we had many years ago, when I jokingly pledged my allegiance to the Commonwealth? As a youth, I modelled my education after the classical English Gentleman’s, and they were expected to know a little bit of the Romance languages, such as Italian, Spanish, and French, in order to appear cultured and sophisticated. But it’s not the same as knowing how to speak a language, any more than knowing Japanese phrases qualifies one to claim that they are fluent in Japanese. Plus, I’ve made some rather disastrous conclusions when I used this deduction method.”
“Really? Like when?” She was interested- not many guys were willing to admit they had made blunders, especially when on a date.
“Well, this place is named ‘Le Freres Heureux’, which means ‘The Happy Brothers’.”
“Yeah, so?”
“When I first saw it, I half-thought it meant ‘The Gay Brothers’. Luckily I didn’t share that with anyone right?!” They had a good laugh before Becky reminded him that she now knew of that mistranslation.
“Yes, but you’re not just anyone, are you, Becky?” He was humouring her, but she felt charmed nonetheless. She excused herself, citing a need to refresh herself in the bathroom, but she just needed some space to prevent herself getting overwhelmed by him. In the bathroom mirror she was like so many of the other ladies there, preening themselves, redressing their make-up, and generally trying to present their best selves forward.
Upon her return she saw two flutes of champagne awaiting her, as well as an English menu which made ordering much easier from that point onwards. She selected a roast quail that was prepared with mushrooms and assorted cheeses, such as brie of course, while he ordered a dish that was primarily composed of something called rostis, which he jokingly referred to as fancy hash browns. It was so fancy that she couldn’t help but exclaim,
‘Thank you for this, and I love the champagne, Tom!”
“You’re welcome, but I don’t think we can call it ‘champagne’ unless it comes from a certain region in France. I don’t like paying for a brand name, so this is just sparkling grape juice. Cheers!” They raised their glasses respectively. While she sipped the sparkling grape juice, he told her a joke about a man who took his date to a fancy French restaurant in an attempt to impress her.
This guy didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t understand the menu, so he pointed to a random expensive dish. It turned out that he had ordered a whole suckling hog, served complete with an apple in the mouth. One would expect this to end badly for him, but he was surprisingly unfazed, and when confronted by his date, merely replied, “I know this is extravagant, but it’s just how I like my apples!” taking the fruit from the hog’s mouth, and sending the rest away.
Confidence was truly an admirable trait. Becky giggled at the punchline, which came just as their food did. They took their time sampling the dishes, and while Thomas didn’t want to try her quail, she accepted a bite of his rostis, which really did remind her of a potato hash brown, but fancier. She enjoyed his side vegetables a lot more though, and wondered why her quail didn’t come with any, only lots of creamy sauce and mashed yams, which didn’t count in her opinion. Le Freres Heureux offered complimentary ice cream for its patrons, which made Becky forgive her dish’s lack of vegetables, vowing to give the place a five-star review sometime. Also, she noticed that Tom looked at her with such an interested, albeit strange, intensity all throughout the dinner.
Becky felt so pampered, as well as desirable, and after dinner the two decided to walk around and enjoy the local view, including the river. It felt like a dream date, as she held Thomas’ hand while they strolled about leisurely, occasionally stopping to take selfies, which she knew Tasha would be extremely envious of later, when she shared the details of her date. When it did get rather cool, Thomas made her wear his jacket, and she felt particularly warm and protected, not just from the elements but in general, as they made their way back to his car, and then his place.
Once indoors they removed their shoes and at that point she was quite ready to ‘jump his bones’ as Tasha would put it, but she could tell that Thomas wanted to say something to her, so she held off indulging her carnal desires for the time being. They sat on his couch, side by side, and as she listened to him, as he would explain something which made her regret not just fucking him the moment they walked into his apartment.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Becky?” His mouth was smiling, but his eyes seemed to be contemplating something.
“Very much. In fact, maybe I can show you how much I enjoyed it, while we continue what we started last night.” She proceeded to kiss him, but he stopped her.
“I would like that, but first, I have an offer for you. How would you like to enter a little arrangement with me?”
“For God’s sake Tom, can’t it wait until after we do it?! It’s not like you have to marry me afterwards or anything.” She was quite exasperated, as she didn’t see what the problem was with sleeping with each other first before committing to a relationship. With a heavy solemnity, he answered,
“No, it’s important to me, and I think it’s important for you to know as well.” He had her attention now, and he explained himself.
When she had first met him, he had been head-over-heels in love with a girl named Naomi, and as a result, hadn’t seriously pursued a relationship with other girls for years. However, after he saw Naomi in Japan, shortly after he had first met Becky, Tom had decided that he was living in the past and agreed to a betrothal his family had arranged. That girl, whom he only referred to as his ‘Lady’, was wonderful on paper and in person, but unable to make him forget about Naomi. Deciding that he needed to tell Naomi how he felt so he could move on with the betrothal, he went to Japan with two other friends as a birthday surprise for Naomi, who finally recognised the depths of his feelings, but, as expected, was unable to reciprocate. He was able to start letting go of Naomi, but realised that he didn’t love the girl to whom he was betrothed, and that it wasn’t fair on either of them to get married just because their families put pressure on them to do so. The two had luckily experienced a very clean and amiable break-up. When he returned, he temporarily caused a rift with his family as he tried to process what he wanted in life, causing him to seek solace in the desert, where he had procured a job with his friend Oliver at the South-Western border town of Alque. There he stayed for about a year, focusing on reflection and meditation, before he resigned from the Quarantine division, and returned to the capital a month ago. Running into Becky was unexpected, but he was pleased to see her again as he wanted her to help him with something important.
“You see, I like you Becky. I like you a lot. And, it just wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t know that I’m carrying a lot of baggage. So, even though I wanted to taste every part of you last night, I can’t get into a proper relationship, and I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea, or lead you on. But, if you’re willing, I’m prepared to generously compensate you for your time, if you agree to something I have in mind. It doesn’t sound very romantic, I know, but are you interested in hearing more?” He looked at her attentively, watching for her reaction.
Becky was at a loss for words- there was a lot to unpackage here, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it, but she had come this far, so why the hell not? She nodded for him to continue. He spoke as if he had rehearsed it, and was trying to recall the script,
“I don’t want to get into a relationship with someone and hurt them because I’m damaged. Instead, I want you to help me explore my desires and the parts of myself I’ve repressed over the years. Nothing will be done without your consent, of course- it’s not like I am going to grab you for a quickie anytime I please, and I’m sure there’s a word for that. An illegal word… But anyway, this is so I can learn more about myself, and properly get over the past. In return, I’ll take you out on dates like the ones we had tonight, pamper you with gifts, and I’ll also cover the lease on your place, if you still want to stay there. We’ll look and act much like we’re a couple, except that it’ll be sweetly professional. And, after a period of time, let’s say, six months, we’ll conclude our business, amiably of course. How does that sound to you?”
She looked over to him, sitting next to her, his calm composure not completely hiding the intensity emanating from his eyes. Giving it more thought, this proposition was a lot easier than doing escort work, and she already liked Tom, even if what he had revealed was a bit much to process at the moment. Still, there was no way that this was mentally or emotionally healthy, was it?! Trying to make sense of the situation, she said,
“Tom, I don’t understand- if you just want a sex slave, you could easily afford one with the kind of money you’re offering me! Or better yet, why don’t you just find a random hook up with a dating app, and do what you want with them until you grow tired of it? That’s what a normal guy does! If you’re worried about the fact that I just got out of a long-term relationship, just don’t, okay!? I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions, so why is it that you have to go to such absurd lengths with this?”
He hesitated, before taking a deep breath and explaining his reasons further,
“Because, Becky, I don’t think I’ll be invested enough with a paid sex slave, or a random hook up, to really learn about who I am. Running into you was Fate, I’m sure, because I am attracted to you, I do want to fuck you, and it may sound strange, but I am rendered more than a little confused by how I’m feeling, okay? I care about you, so I don’t want us to date per se. Besides, I know that if we do begin a standard relationship, I’m probably going to get very obsessive and then depressed when we break up- who needs that type of drama in their life? It’ll make me feel better if it’s just an agreed upon arrangement, one which will benefit both of us. Maybe I’m crazy for asking you this, but I need someone strong enough to handle me, and I really think that someone is you.” It just didn’t make sense to Becky, and she continued pressing him,
“What exactly are you hoping to achieve, Tom? Be honest with me: am I just some tool to help you through whatever it is you’re dealing with? Then what, we just act like nothing happened- are you some kind of psycho!?” She demanded to know, and he seemed indignant at the idea.
“I may be rather unusual, eccentric even, but I would never treat a person like a disposable tool. Even if I make use of someone, I always show my gratitude- which is something I rarely get in return! Do you want to know what I hope to achieve from this? I want to ethically indulge myself and this need for companionship, so that after we’re done, I can lay it all to rest. I don’t want to be constantly swayed by human desires anymore!” That sounded too alien for her, and she rebuked him,
“It’s normal to have desires, Thomas Kei! People feel things they don’t like, people make mistakes- we get over them, and we move on with our lives! You spend so much time exploring spirituality and philosophy, you should know that already!” For a moment she felt terror as his charming, friendly, smiling mask dropped, only for the smallest sliver of an instant, and she saw more of that danger that was hidden inside him. Strangely though, she didn’t feel in danger for herself- she was just worried about him, especially when he admitted that his psychology had been warped for reasons she didn’t fully understand. He said, with a strained voice,
“It is normal for you, I suppose, and other people like you. I agree! But not to me: I haven’t felt like a human being for a very long time. No matter what I do or how much I try, I’m always going to be different! Do you have any idea what that feels like?!”
Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the anger in his eyes, not directed at her, but she got the impression he felt repeatedly cheated and abused, yet was determined to not succumb to it. His expression softened when he caught sight of her concern, and he took her hand, gently stroking it, quietly saying,
“I’m sorry. I knew it was stupid to ask you, but my soul feels like it’s more scar tissue than anything else right now. I am in pain, because I can’t express how I feel to others, and part of the reason I’m doing this is because I think if I do indulge myself, I can let go of that part of me that feels this way. For years, I kept thinking about becoming a priest, so I could have a reason to disengage from the mortal world, but I keep getting pulled back in. Not anymore. I’m taking control of my own life, and no longer will I tolerate being bound by Karma’s chains. Right now, you’re the only person I know who can help me with all of that… does it make any sense now?”
She didn’t say anything; despite how weird it all seemed, her heart went out to his suffering, as well as how open he was about his situation, but this was a whole different level of existential crisis. If he was a normal guy, she would have offered him a blowjob or something similar to console him, but clearly that wasn’t going to work in this situation. Placing one hand on his cheek, she lightly kissed him, which took him by surprise. Softly, but with a hint of steel that ran through the very core of her being, she agreed,
“Okay. I think maybe all you need is to just redefine your relationship with intimacy, but I get that this is your way of doing that. I accept your offer, Tom. I’ll help you in any way I can. You can do whatever you want with me, and I won’t blame you for the consequences. But at the end of this, I’ll make you feel human again… I swear it.”
He looked at her with a tenderness, and perhaps also, a sense of wonder. With a ghost of his former playfulness, he said,
“That sounds like a challenge, Becky.” With a serious expression, she responded with,
“No, it’s a promise.”
He didn’t dispute her resolve. Softly, almost whispering, he told her,
“I’ll admit, a part of me was scared that you would just leave, and we’d never see or speak to each other again. Which I would… would completely understand.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Tom.”
He didn’t say anything after that, and neither did she; they just lay on the couch together, gently caressing one another, until they both drifted into oblivion as the emotional fatigue set in.
Chapter 8: Who’s Your Daddy?
She woke up the next morning, not sure how she had ended up in his bedroom, and wondering to herself if last night wasn’t just a dream. As she was still wearing her dress, he probably hadn’t done anything untoward to her last night, which she was a little disappointed with, but at least her silicone pads had stayed inside her bra instead of slipping out. Hearing sounds of activity in the kitchen, she left his bed and smelled breakfast wafting through the apartment, luring her like a siren’s call to thirsty Greek sailors. Tom had made pancakes, laid out juice on the table, and was frying something at that moment. Becky eyed him for a moment: he had always worn formal wear, but now he was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and black athletic shorts, all of which gave her a view of the well-muscled contours of his body. He was too involved in the cooking process to notice her enjoying the sight of him preparing breakfast for them, or maybe he just pretended to not hear her as she approached him from behind, and hugged him, her arms wrapped tentatively around his waist. She inhaled his scent deeply before uttering a simple,
“Hey.” After a moment of stillness from her touch, he enthusiastically replied with,
“Hey! I made breakfast- I hope you like pancakes, cheese and mushroom omelette, and American rostis.” He was chirpy, which was a good sign compared to the melancholy of last night. She looked over to the frying pan and saw that he was cooking hash browns- ah yes, ‘American rostis’.
“Yummy. And I’m not just talking about the food,” she said, as she ran her hands along his abdomen. Tom smirked as she teased him, half coy and half serious. He continued talking about how hash browns were always deep fried at McDonalds or most fast-food restaurants, and the true flavour of potato had to be teased out by being pan seared. Allowing them time to reach that golden-brown crispiness on the outside meant that the insides would be perfectly cooked as well. She asked him where the cutlery was located, and he directed her to the drawers by the fridge, where she found a bunch of scattered silverware lying in a heap. Oddly messy for such a conscientious person, she thought.
They sat down to breakfast and after a while he continued his proposition from last night. It would be a six month ‘contract’, and in that period they would simply continue to spend time together as they felt like it, with the caveat that they go on a date at least once a fortnight on average, and he would occasionally experiment with certain kinks and fantasies. It suited her: she had studies to attend to, and he was involved with his own projects, which he didn’t discuss in great detail, but the commitment wouldn’t be any different to the time one would ordinarily spend dating. Overall, they seemed quite comfortable with the arrangements. He joked that he was like Richard Gere and she was Julia Roberts in the movie, Pretty Woman. Except that he wasn’t a billionaire, and she wasn’t a hooker.
“Also, they had sex the first night, just saying,” she teased, in a playfully pointed way of course, and he took it quite well considering his hang ups about intimacy. In response, he said,
“Yes, but he paid her for that, and she took his money, which you didn’t, so not exactly comparable, young lady- wait, she didn’t take his money half-way into the movie, I forgot! Anyway, I will admit that I’m still essentially paying you to be at my ‘Beck and call’, which is appropriate don’t you think?” He smiled as she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out for how he used her name in that lame pun, but after considering it, the wordplay was rather apt. Feeling like she should get the last word in, Becky pointedly told him,
“You’re smart. But you’re also dumb. Good thing you’re hot, Mr K!”
She didn’t exactly know what she was getting herself into, but Tom had made a good point about it being expedient for both of them. Her eyes widened when she found out that he had printed a form for her to fill out, which would grant her a credit card linked to his account; she could use it for any expenses as long as she didn’t deplete the limit. In addition to covering six months’ worth of their lease (he had offered a whole year but she refused on principle), Becky would also receive about two thousand dollars a month for her ‘services’, and he insisted that anything he might ask her to procure should also be spent using that card. At any point she could end the agreement, and she would be free to keep the card; the lease money would not need to be returned either. It was a lot to take in on a Sunday morning, and she was still having second thoughts.
“Do you mind if I talk it over with Tasha?”
“Tasha? Who, your best friend, who’s known you so long that she’s practically your sister? No, I don’t mind, but please keep my history on a need-to-know basis.” Quickly, she assured him,
“Of course! I mean, it’s just that she is quite perceptive, even if she does act like a wild child, and if we can suddenly afford the rent she’s going to wanna know why. We’re brutally honest with each other, always have been, so I’d rather not lie to her.”
Tom was understanding, and told her that if she reconsidered, it would be fine, and they could still be friends (however that was supposed to work). Otherwise, if she accepted, she should send that form to him as soon as she could, and he would send it off to the bank. He would also arrange for the lease to be paid in full for the next six months. Then, with business discussed and concluded, he took her back home, where Tasha was eagerly awaiting to hear about how their date went. After tactfully explaining what was ncessary to outline the situation, without going into too many details, her best friend took it as graciously as expected.
“No way! OH MY GOD! So, let me get this straight- a guy who you haven’t even slept with is offering to keep us in this place. AND, he’s paying you on top of that?! Gargh, why do you have all the luck???” Tasha was ecstatic for them, as all their problems were now over, seemingly, but Becky’s hesitation did not go unnoticed. Tasha noticed this amidst bringing them both a bottle of cider to celebrate, exclaiming,
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about it?! He’s literally offering you a chance to be his sugar baby, and as daddies go, he’s not old OR ugly. I mean, he’s Asian, so I guess we can’t expect much in the downstairs department, but still, not bad!”
Sugar babies, that was the concept Thomas had offered her without even realising it, but Becky had immediately drawn the comparisons and deliberately chose not to say anything. Perhaps she didn’t want him to realise that there were other men seeking something similar, but despite the parallels, she knew that this wasn’t what Tom was asking of her. Also, maybe she didn’t want to give up exclusive rights to Tom just yet, something that was implied rather than outlined in their agreement. Actually, he didn’t say she wasn’t free to date other guys either, but her morals wouldn’t be happy with that idea… they liked each other enough for it to not be an issue, anyway, and she didn’t get the impression that Tom was interested in seeing other girls for the time being.
Tasha kept urging her to take him up on it before he changed his mind, but Becky deliberately waited a day before sending him the forms. Even though she would lose out on a lot financially, she’d rather prefer that Tom develop a better relationship with himself (and hopefully herself too), instead of embarking upon this crazy adventure. But he was firm in his stance, so she stopped struggling, and signed the forms he gave her, before scanning them back to him via email. Texting him to let him know it was done, he replied via phone message,
Him: Thank you for being so prompt. I’ll get touch in a few days. Take care Becky.
Her: Okay. You too.
The next few days went by in a blur. She went to classes, she did her shifts at the café, and was noticeably preoccupied with everything that had happened to her in the last week. So much so, that the manager took her aside to ask if everything was okay: Melissa was nice, a little ditzy, but nice, so even though Becky didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t snap at her either. Melissa, trying to sound like a caring manager, remarked,
“So, Becky, are you sure everything’s okay? I mean, if it’s about the break up with Wayne, I get it, he was like, totally a dick, but it’s not like you to be so distant here. Not that you’re not being polite, and maintaining our high customer service KPI’s, but defs not your usual self. Wanna talk about it, maybe?”
Becky smiled weakly, thanked her for her concern, but simply said she had a lot going on right now, which was true without going into too many details. Melissa had become the manager because her father was in the corporate division, and she was a little younger than Becky in age and mindset, probably due to having lived a very sheltered life. Still, Becky admired the fact that Melissa had confided to her once, after a particularly stressful day of rude customers, that she was happy her father gave her a chance to do this instead of trying to protect her from the world. That was when the older girl realised her ditzy manager came across as clueless because she wasn’t used to being allowed to do things for herself, and it was a learning experience for her as the manager; this made Becky more sympathetic. Naturally, the assistant manager Kyle, an experienced barista in his early forties, was undoubtedly the real reason this place had enjoyed smooth sailing despite Melissa’s relative inexperience. Apparently, Kyle was an old high school buddy of Melissa’s father, and the latter had asked that he keep an eye on his “precious little princess”. Becky tried to reassure the other girl with,
“Thanks Mel, but I’m okay. I, uh, kinda met a new guy and he’s great, but let’s just say that things are little complicated between us. I guess it’s because we’re both on the rebound, and a relationship isn’t what he wants right now. So, I guess it’s making me a little distracted, but I promise it won’t get in the way of our high KPI’s.”
Melissa seemed satisfied with the answer, but then asked something that changed the direction of their conversation,
“Is he an older guy? Divorced or something?”
“What? No, he’s not, I mean, yeah he was engaged at some point but not married, and that was a while ago too. He’s not actually that old, about thirty, I think.”
Melissa grew interested in the type of person Tom was, but Becky refused to divulge anything more, so Mel relented,
“Well, okay, you got this Becky! And just between you and me, I’m kinda seeing someone older too.” Intrigued, Becky asked,
“Really? Did you meet him here?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess you can say that.” Mel glanced over to the counter where Kyle was working, and Becky put two and two together.
“What!? Kyle? Really?” She wasn’t that loud, but Mel furtively looked around, before hushing Becky,
“Shhh, it’s a secret! But yeah, uh, since you shared about your love life, I wanted to say something too! Yeah, it’s only been for around a month, but we spend a lot of time together when we go over the store’s business matters, and eventually it just sorta happened.”
“Holy- I mean, good for you two, I won’t say anything, I promise- but what if your dad finds out?” Becky had met Mel’s father once, and the man was quite imposing, the type of guy who determined that things had to be done according to his worldview. Melissa revealed,
“I know, it’s against company policy, but I’ve had a crush on Kyle since I was a teenager, and if we’re being completely honest, we both like disobeying my father. Plus, the sex is super hot- he really knows how to treat a girl! Aren’t older guys just the best? Right, Becky?”
Becky inwardly groaned: even Mel was getting more action than she was, and it didn’t seem fair! But she didn’t want to hear anymore, and as her shift was about to finish, she made an excuse about clearing some tables, and Mel went back to the office. The same office where she and Kyle probably hooked up several times during their ‘executive meetings’. She was looking forward to going home, and doing nothing for the rest of the evening. So, imagine her surprise when she got home, smelling of roasted coffee and frothy milk, to find that a suited Thomas was waiting for her.
“Oh! Tom! What are you doing here?”
He smiled in that knowing way of his, which might have been creepy if that was all he ever did, but he quickly explained everything.
“Tasha’s out, but she said you would be home soon, so when she saw me downstairs, waiting for you, she let me in and told me to make myself at home. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to see you sooner rather than later.”
“Why didn’t you call? Or are you the kinda guy who likes to be spontaneous?” Again, with that Cheshire smile of his,
“I am a very spontaneous person, but I did leave you a message, and got no answer, so I came here. Was I overstepping my boundaries?”
She took out her phone, which she hadn’t paid any attention to since she started work, and hadn’t looked at when she left due to thoughts of how Kyle was grinding Melissa’s coffee beans. There it was, he had sent her a very polite message asking if it was alright if he saw her at her home, which she had not seen until now. She looked at him and said,
“Okay, well, not that I’m not glad to see you, but what’s so important?”
“Two things. Firstly, I spoke with your landlord Gus, and charmed him with the limited Polish that I know, as well as explaining how I wanted to cover your lease for the next 6 months. The guy is real old-school, didn’t try to ask who I was or where I got the cash to pay for this place. He even had the paperwork taken care of within 5 five minutes of me handing over the money. Secondly, I wanted to see the look on your face when I gave you this.” He handed her the new lease as well as an envelope from the bank, and when she opened the latter, it contained a brand-new credit card with her name on it. By his thoughtfulness, the card had the cutest cartoony anime-esque baseballs and cheeseburgers theme, which might have suggested that it was for someone a lot younger, but she found it endearing all the same. He continued,
“Nice design, right? I didn’t know you could get credit cards with personality like that, but my sisters told me about it. Took me a while to find something that was ‘You’, but I hope you like it.”
She didn’t know what came over her at that moment, but she flung her bag down on the table and then, to his slight alarm, flung herself on to him, causing the both of them to fall over backwards onto the couch. They lay there a moment, silent, while the adrenaline wore off. He broke the silence first,
“You smell nice. I don’t drink coffee, but I wouldn’t mind waking up to the smell of this every morning.” Nuzzling in his embrace, she said,
“I love the card, but you don’t have to pay me anything to have a relationship with me. I just want to make that clear, Tom.” Stroking her hair, he said,
“I know, and I respect you more for it. But I’d feel better about it if we did it this way, so let’s just agree that it’s my own hang up, and stop feeling bad, okay?”
Becky acquiesced, and Tom continued to explain the benefits of the card as well as how it was already activated, so she could use it whenever and however she pleased. A part of her wasn’t proud of it, but the fact that she was being treated in such a pampered manner aroused her, although that wouldn’t be very independent of any modern lady, would it? Plus, Tom’s so hot, she thought, and so incredibly cultured/intelligent, that she told herself she would have felt the same way even if he wasn’t apparently affluent too. After a moment of mutual basking in the other’s arms, he asked,
“Would you like to catch a movie, and grab a bit to eat afterwards?” His question took her by surprise.
“What, you mean, now?”
“Well, not immediately. You just returned home and I’m sure you want to refresh yourself and change, unless your place pays you to advertise them by wearing your uniform out in public?”
“Hmmm, I’ll bring it up at the next meeting… I’d enjoy going to the movies with you, but just letting you know, I’m not in the mood to get very dressed up tonight, so I hope you haven’t made any more fancy dinner reservations?”
“No problem, go and put on something comfy, we’ll chill with any random movie that catches our fancy, and afterwards let’s go and get cheeseburgers. You’d eat anything if it was covered with cheese, that’s what you said the other day, right? Shows that you are a true lady of culture.” Wrinkling her nose in amusement, she told him,
“Hah hah. I’m taking a shower now. Gotta wash away that awful pun of yours.” Pretending to sigh in despair, he joked,
“Genius comedy is never appreciated.”
He then leaned in to kiss her, which she pretended to reciprocate, but pulled away last second, stepping up from the couch, her expression full of mischievous fun. He called her a tease, which secretly delighted her; if he thought that was her idea of teasing, she would have much more to show him later. So much more.
Chapter 9: Sex is Metaphysical
“I can’t believe there was so much unnecessary cleavage in that film!”
The two of them had gone to a cinema that featured foreign films, because a typical Hollywood production would be far too mainstream, and there was never anything good these days anyways. In the end, after a minor debate about whether they should make a selection based on language or on genre, they just picked the worst film they could find, which was a horror/comedy involving mutant plants that assimilated humans. They got their money’s worth: the storyline was contrived and the acting even more so, but it was so bad that it was actually enjoyably bad. After hearing Becky’s complaint, Tom asked, facetiously,
“Is there ever unnecessary cleavage in these kinds of films?” Tom asserted that without the fan service, half the reasons for watching such films would be made redundant.
“I don’t mind tasteful doses of boobs, even getting on the gratuitous side, but it doesn’t make sense: how would the plant people even understand the concept!?” Nodding, Tom demured,
“I dunno, but in nature, plants often attempt to attract their prey, or pollen distributors, with things that entice them. So, on this occasion, having bigger boobs works in their favour. I can think of quite a few industries which are successful because of that business model.” Rolling her eyes in amusement, she responded with,
“Hah, such a guy thing to say- bigger is better right? Mine are DD, so they can really get annoying, to be honest, and I kinda wish I could take them off at night, and put them into something like, I dunno, a gun holster?”
“More like cannon holsters, right?” He was usually gentle with his teasing, and she liked that they were bantering so casually, but still pretended to reprimand him,
“Hey, shut up! Well, anyway, the plot took a tangent from those plant people being mindless killers, to suddenly making a big sanctimonious statement about how Global Warming was making them sterile, and so they had to highjack our reproductive systems in order to propagate their species. If I could speak to the director, I’d ask him what the hell his point was!” In agreement, Tom added,
“Yeah that ending was left rather ambiguous. I suspect it was probably due to budget and on-set issues, plus it did say that it was a debut film of the director, so let’s not make fun of his awkward first step into the cinematic world. In lighter news, how’s your Swiss Army Burger?” He changed the topic, because there really wasn’t that much to discuss about the film, and this hipster diner located outside the cinema complex had proven to be more interesting by comparison. Taking a bite, and licking the cheesy grease from her fingers, she swallowed and joyfully said,
“It’s the most delicious combination of cheese, Swiss mushrooms, and beef patties I’ve ever had, thank you for recommending it. I’m glad it’s so good, because I am still steamed over that film! Sorry, I’m okay, I swear, I just like to rant about bad films, it’s something Tasha and I always do.” She was worried that Tom, who was quite reserved and polite when he wasn’t teasing her, might find her disgruntlement somewhat off-putting, but he reassured her it was a good thing because he enjoyed hearing her speak her mind. He reassured her that he liked hearing her be authentic, saying,
“I just realised that there’s so much I don’t know about you, and listening to you vent about things is a very quick way to pick up bits and pieces. Who knows? Maybe I’ll understand you as well as Tasha one day.”
“Hahah, I doubt it, that girl and I almost have a psychic link. You know, I’ve noticed that you never rant about anything, so how am I supposed to know what you like, or what you’re like, if you always keep your cards close to your chest? In comparison, I’m an open book!”, she said,spreading her hands out like pages. He grinned, and merely sidestepped the question,
“You’ll have to practice your perceptiveness, Becky-hime. Besides, it’s not a fair comparison: with your ‘assets’, I can’t imagine you’d keep anything close to your chest.”
“Excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?” She was only pretending to be indignant, but he winked, diffusing the mood, saying,
“It was a compliment, on your open nature, as well as physical endowment. You know, I bet you’ve never suffered from boob-envy, but let’s get Freudian for a moment. As a man I cannot understand, but I assume that girls do get envious over this type of thing?” It was true, Becky had never sufferred insecurities about her chest size, but she wasn’t going to let Tom know he had guessed correctly. Going on a tangent, she asked,
“Don’t you mean jealous? Or am I just using it incorrectly?”
He mused thoughtfully for a moment, before saying,
“Actually, you may be right. Envy usually means wanting something that you don’t have, like being covetous. Jealous, or jealousy, usually refers to something you have but are scared of losing, so, like a jealous partner compared to an envious friend-zoned individual. Or in fairytales, a jealous stepmother versus an envious stepsister. But on this topic, both could apply, depending on the context.” Seeing that he was in a mood to talk, she decided to be bold, saying,
“Hmmm, interesting, but I noticed how you sidestepped my orignal question, about being open. Actually, I do recall that you’ve let your guard down before- it was when we first met, and you told me about how Naomi was simply ‘perfect in every way’. Did she have a great rack too?” She only meant to poke fun at him, but his mood immediately changed and his normally composed countenance became imperceptibly soured. Becky didn’t back down though, and persisted in her line of questioning,
“I want to get to know you too, Thomas. More than the witty jokes and the terrible puns, deeper than your sense of chivalry and the suffering that accompanies such nobility. Even more than your traumas- I want to know the complete human side of you, which is why we’re doing this arrangement, isn’t it?”
He gave her an odd look, then ate a curly fry, salted and without any ketchup, swallowed, and remarked,
“These curly fries are good- there’s just something so delectable about the spirals, and I wonder if the shape has anything to do with the flavour.”
“Look Tom, if you don’t want to answer me jus-”
He continued speaking, cutting her off, his tone somehow more real now, and she saw from his eyes that his smiling mask had loosened.
“I loved fries, ever since I was a boy. Loved. I recall sitting in an empty cardboard box as a boy, eating the kind you get from the local fish and chips shop, for $2, the sharp smell and warmth washing over me as I forgot everything happening outside. They were my favourite food, and I couldn’t begin to describe how happy I was to eat them any chance I could. When I saw Naomi again, the first time I went to Japan, we ate at a Yodobashi together, you know, those giant department malls with everything you could ever want. I still remember how I had ordered a little ceramic boat platter of fries and tomato sauce, but I didn’t finish them. Then, since that time, fries have never tasted the same to me- it was like the magic had disappeared. On my second visit to Japan, I wasn’t alone this time: I had invited her two best friends to come along, and without getting into details, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. Well, the guy I invited was great, and while we would never be close, for certain reasons, I was grateful he agreed to my request. However, the same cannot be said for the girl I invited along, because we’ve always been at odds. Again, for reasons I don’t want to get into. Yet, I was willing to put up with it because I loved Naomi so deeply, and her happiness meant more to me than my own. Without boring you with the details-”
“I’m not bored Tom, I want to hear everything. Anything you feel comfortable sharing with me. All the details.” She meant it, as listened, and her imagination conjured imaged of a little boy hiding in a cardboard fortress eating his snack, then of an adult among a moving backdrop of familiar scenes from a country she still missed, and that same person sitting across a faceless woman, this Naomi whom she had never known, let alone seen, but could imagine as a radiant and angelic beauty that had captured the complicated heart of this complicated man. He smiled briefly, without his mask coming back on, and continued speaking in that real tone that she so seldom heard,
“Well, without getting into too many specifics, after I left Japan the second time, I came to three realisations about myself. The first was that Naomi knew nothing about me, and probably had no interest knowing anything about me. Which isn’t her fault, but there was also something else she did that cut me especially deeply: that’s why I could finally gave up on my feelings for her.
The second was that my fiancé would not be happy marrying the mask I had put up during our courtship, and I couldn’t bear to make her go through something only because both our parents had pressured us; she and I are fine, more than fine, and we’ve talked more after we broke up than we ever did when we were engaged. Funny, huh? But all’s well that ends well, I suppose…
Thirdly, and lastly, I realised that I hated the girl who I invited along to Japan, and that dark epiphany made me realise that as much as I masked it, denied it, and suppressed it, I am not as removed from the mortal world as I want to be; I have become so very tainted and unworthy of enlightenment, which is partly why I am currently not a priest in an obscure order somewhere. Ever since I came back from Japan, the first time, my favourite food, chips, fries, etc… they have never brought me the same joy when I ate them. Until now. Maybe they’re just that good here- want to try one?”
His mask was back on, but this time it didn’t extend to his eyes, and she knew he had told her something that no one else had been privy to. She nodded, and he selected a particularly spirally one for her. She chewed and gave her feedback,
“It’s good, they really know how to make them here… Um, Tom, sorry for going on about this, but does Naomi know what you’ve told me? Not the specifics, but this type of stuff, I mean. Deeper and more meaningful conversation. I don’t want to make any judgements on someone I haven’t met, but it seems odd that your feelings would have had no effect on her. It makes me wonder what kind of person she is.”
He was taken aback at this, the idea that maybe Naomi never saw what was so obvious to him, but joked that being unfeeling made her a perfect lawyer. Then he looked off into the distance, and further clarified,
“I have no regrets over how I felt about her. Everything I liked about her was true, it wasn’t just me putting her on a pedestal, which is bitterly funny because she thought that was what I was doing. When I did finally confess my feelings, even though she had already guessed them, I understood that maybe she hoped I just wouldn’t say anything. But I did, because it was killing me to not say anything, even though saying it was the death of our friendship. We haven’t been in touch since, and I frankly don’t ever want to see or talk to her again- I mean, I’ve already bothered her enough, haven’t I? It’s embarassing for a grown man… To answer your original question, I was never focused on her body, I told myself that I was in love with her soul, but when it comes to said ‘assets’, you win. Hands down. I- I hope you don’t mind me objectifying you when I say this, but you’re the first girl who excites me in that particular way… sorry, was that too much information?”
“Tom, can we go back to your place for ice cream?” She was gazing at him intently, while he continued to look mildly confused.
“They have ice cream here. Surely you’d want the variety, instead of that mono-flavoured vanilla tub I have back at home?” Becky wondered how such a smart guy could be so dumb, but gently pressed on,
“No, Tom, I really think I’d prefer the ice cream you have back at your place.” She gently rested her hand on his, and it dawned on him that there was a possibility she wasn’t after the regular kind of dessert. With a budding enthusiasm, he nodded, and said,
“Sure, let me just get this stuff in a take away bag.” He packed away the snack platter they had shared, a medley of onion rings, curly fries, and chicken nuggets, and they both walked back to his car, arms interlinked, before arriving back to his place. On the car ride he discussed metaphysics, which Becky didn’t really get, but was glad he was more willing to talk about his interests with her. Once they were comfortably settled back at his place, Thomas, bless his soul, made green tea and really brought out vanilla ice cream, while continuing to talk about how fascinating metaphysics could be, primarily from the perspective of solipsism. Becky had heard about that term before, but Tom was the type of person who was very much taken with the idea of thought becoming interlinked with reality. Trying to stay engaged in the conversation, she said,
“I remember that term being used in the Orwell’s novel, 1984, and it was what the bad guy at the end claimed that the main character, Winston, was not very good at comprehending. I can sort of understand what he means, because while I am paying attention to you, the idea that nothing exists out of my own consciousness is something I can’t fully accept. After all, if I’m not aware of a car coming towards me, how can the car hurt me if it wasn’t real outside of my own awareness? Or am I just the victim of my own subconsciously well-developed world-building?” Impressed at how well Becky was following along, Thomas fondly recalled the novel,
“Ah yes, I love that part with Obrien saying “Do not worry Winston, I will make you sane. Then I will put a bullet in your brain.” Poetry, isn’t it? It reminds of my friend Jim, my own Winston. But yeah, 1984 is quite possibly my favourite adolescent book, I used to reread sections all the time as a teenager. Even though the novel only mentions solipsism very briefly, it could be the crux of the entire premise of IngSoc, specifically by how the thought-crime dynamics work to control the population. In that case, we see that solipsism can still work if there is a shared consciousness, despite the fact that from our own perspective, we can only confirm the existence of a shared collective subjectivity, if not a true objectivity. Following?” Staring at him blankly, Becky just shrugged and broke into a laugh,
“No, hahah! I am never going to be a philosopher. I am more interested in everyday human phenomena, such ice cream, cheeseburgers, and sex.”
“Ah, but sex IS metaphysical. I know everything is, but sex in particular is fundamentally more so.”
He had piqued her interest now, and she had not forgotten the real reason she wanted to come over for ‘ice cream’. Putting down her bowl, she nestled closer to him on the couch, and stared innocently into his eyes. It was a coy but direct challenge, and he grinned, realising it.
“Oh yes, want to hear more? It’s rather dull, but I suppose I could try to make it more engaging, and interactive.” He was directly teasing her now, which she reciprocated.
“Really? I know you’re good, Professor Thomas Kei, but surely no one is that good?” Her coyness was setting the ambient mood for the both of them, that slow burn of trepidation and excitement building up, waiting to surface when the time was ripe. He took her hand, and motioned for her to stand up.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered. She complied, and he walked behind her, leading her to another room. He then began the most sensual and riveting lecture on philosophy she had ever experienced.
“There is only so much that the physical senses can gleam from our world, and when we think of how our eyes only perceive a small amount of the electromagnetic spectrum, it makes sense that our consciousness demands more than that. Establishing trust is the first step to understanding, as we navigate the dynamics of our existence, and that means that we have to rely on interacting with others to help us understand the world, eventually. You can open your eyes now, Becky.”
She saw that he had led her to his bedroom, which wasn’t so surprising considering the atmosphere. Still standing behind her, he continued,
“Then, after that trust is built, we need to analyse what it is that we are dealing with, which involves the deconstruction of ideas. We have to strip down biases and assumptions, until we get to the very base, fundamental level of reasoning.” He kissed her nape, a slow kiss that employed more suction than usual, and her knees went weak; it was a good thing he had wrapped his hands around her waist, as she welcomed the extra support. Then, he began to unbutton her blouse, and pulled it over her as she lifted her arms. Taking this moment to unhook her bra, she was acutely aware that her breathing had become heavier. He continued, softly speaking,
“Deconstruction is so misunderstood, because it is not destruction. We do not aim to discredit anything therein of itself, merely to take it apart, and understand its components better. This is what humans do when we expose ourselves.” He took in her scent, deeply, as he hands lowered and her jeans seemed to slide off her hips and sank to the ground. Her bra soon followed her jeans. He lifted her up, and walked over to the bed, where he gently propped her into a kneeling position, her back still to him. His powerful hands began to idly run themselves all over her back and shoulders, and as he massaged her from behind, he gradually moved those hands to her front, and started trace patterns that sent shivers coursing throughout her entire body.
“Presently, I am the sculptor and you are my clay, but you are also my muse, and we cannot easily distinguish the conductor from the orchestra. What even is Cause and Effect? As I explore your body, I’m also becoming one with your mind: each and every breath you draw, alternating between soft and sharp, to your muscles that twitch, letting me understand you as I stroke all the right places.” He leaned forwards, past her shoulders, never stopping his hands for a second, and she turned her face to meet his, sharing a drawn-out kiss that echoed with longing. But he was not yet done with his lesson, as he pulled away, gathered a deep breath, and whispered in her ear,
“A kiss isn’t just the pressing of lips. When we’re making out, we exchange passion, and desire, and solace… tasting the other’s soul as much as their body. You are so beautiful right now, in our own private world, independent of anything external, and there exists only you and I right here, right now, in this infinite moment, our tenuous eternal embrace.”
Her mind was becoming increasingly clouded as she focused only on his hands and words and mouth that kissed her sporadically. He reached out to his bedside table and pulled open a drawer, where he took out a small bottle. Stopping his caresses momentarily to open it, he began to languidly drip the contents on her back, shoulders, and chest. Nimbly, his fingers began to spread that pleasant-smelling substance, mainly a lavender scent, but also something else she couldn’t be bothered to deduce at that very moment, all over her, and this time he focused on playing with her supple breasts, nipples erect, and the smoothing gliding traction with the oil only accentuated his massage skills. After a while, he gently pushed her forwards onto her hands, and hooked his fingers around her bottom lingerie, teasing them off her body. She was dimly aware of him flicking them to where her jeans were, but it was hard to concentrate as he dripped more oil on to her now arched back, and began gliding his hands over her lower body. Starting with her hips and thighs, alternating his movements, he grabbed her upper thighs and gave them deep, resonating squeezes, before releasing the tension in a plucking manner.
“Touch is no longer just touch. Smell, sight, hearing, and taste, all of the senses interplay in order for humans to truly distinguish between a biological expediency, to something far more meaningful and spiritual, a harmony of realities and personalities, the culmination of what forces are at work to shape our reality. To engage with the subject matter is to embrace the fundamental forces of nature, manifest in our being, which is ultimately what causes Life to thrive, and is what allows sex to result in renewed life: the Essence gives meaning to Form, and that Form validates Essence- Yin and Yang are expressions of a single whole, the Taiji, that ultimate expression of Supreme Infinity.”
Becky was glowing with an inner heat she had never known herself capable of emanating, which was to be expected as Tom was a very skilled masseur who took pride in his therapeutic abilities, and muscles do become significantly warmer after a good massage. Plus, she was super turned on at this very moment. He positioned her upright once more, on her knees, her body completely at the whim of his direction, and then he started playing with her breasts once more, before doing something that she had hoped he would: his right hand moved down between her legs, and he began expertly rubbing that area with tight concentric circles, adjusting the pressure but not the pace, which drove her wild as she writhed with the new sensations. She was so captivated by the experience that she almost didn’t register when he spoke to her again, amused and slightly out of breath from the exertions required to massage her body so vigorously.
“So, Becky, do you agree now that sex is just metaphysics?”
She spun around, impossibly fast, revealing that her eyes were smoky with a strong irrepressible urge. With one hand she pulled him in by grabbing his shirt, and furiously pashed him, her tongue unable to get enough of his. With the other hand, she pressed his right hand deeper between her legs, guiding his fingers inside her, where they began to rhythmically wiggle, driving her into bouts of ecstasy.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop now.” Her voice had deepened, that carnal beast that had been caged within was now fully awakened, unleased, and her arousal was a powerful force to be reckoned with. They continued to passionately make out, as he slid his fingers inside with a renewed determination, and once he had figured out the pace that gave her the maximum degree of pleasure, he didn’t stop until she climaxed, eliciting deeply satisfied moans that emanated from the core of her being. After taking a moment to gather herself, between deep breaths, she looked at her with a strange smile on her face.
“Tom, why are your clothes still on?”
Becky’s falsely sweet voice was intermixed with primal panting; he knew what she demanded, and her tone suggested that if he didn’t get his clothes off soon, she would simply tear them off and have her way with him. What happened next was, in both their minds, a very interactive lesson on applied metaphysics. As a lot of academics might agree, the bedroom, time and time again, had proven success in making even the dullest subjects relatable.
Chapter 10- Take Him on a Date
“Damn it Becky, you look so content that I so wanna punch you in the face! Are you even listening to me?”
Tasha was half joking, but also making a point about how much more relaxed Becky was at this very moment- definitely more relaxed than she had been in recent times! Dreamily, she looked over to Tasha, and asked her friend to repeat the question, which only served to infuriate the other girl.
Becky was unaffected by Tasha’s attempt to get a rise out of her, and this nonchalance was a new experience for Tasha, who thought she knew how to push all of Becky’s buttons. Apparently, there were some buttons that she had yet to discover, which Tom had managed to press the night before. She knew that something had transpired, when she heard Becky come back home in the early morning, and Tasha swore, even in her half dazed groggy state, that outside the door she heard a lot of canoodling; she assumed it had to have been Tom that was smooching her best friend. Becky didn’t wake up until much closer to midday, and was in a noticeably different mood than she had been for a while: super chill about everything, and occasionally smiling off into the distance like a lunatic. After some coffee and a light brunch, she seemed more receptive to Tasha’s interrogation, but still heavily distracted by something, no doubt related to Tom. Trying to focus on what her friend was saying, she said,
“Huh? Oh, sorry Tasha, I’m just still a little tired, which is weird because I, uh, slept great last night.” To highlight that point she yawned and stretched out her arms, before going back to stirring her coffee, while Tasha was indignant at her utter indifference to snide remarks about why she was tired. Eventually, she just directly asked Becky,
“So, he was that good huh?”
Becky smiled again, that annoyingly smug smile that Tasha had to put up with since they had been up this morning.
“Tasha, saying that he was good would be like saying a tiger is just a cat.” With a raised brow, Tasha commented,
“Oh, and I bet he knows a thing or two about pussies, right? Come on girl, spill the beans, I’ve got to know what the hell he did to you!”
“With me, Tasha, it was very consensual. He- let’s just say he gave me a special lecture on metaphysics. You wouldn’t get it if I tried to explain it, I wasn’t thinking straight for most of it anyway. Plus, a lady doesn’t fuck and tell, so I really can’t say any more.”
“Some lady my ass,” Tasha muttered under her breath, as she wondered what the hell ‘metaphysics’ could be, perhaps something like karma sutra? Before she could drop the topic, she made one last appeal in the name of sisterhood,
“Okay, I know he has magic hands, but just tell me this- was he huge or something?!”
Tasha’s limited knowledge of Asian men, specifically their equipment size, was restricted to the one Korean client she had seen whilst escorting, and a lifetime’s worth of hearsay that gossip circles and general street knowledge provided: in short, her assumptions presented Asian men as not particularly well endowed. Dick size had come up in their induction as escorts- smaller dicks were apparently easier on a sex worker than a whole slew of meaty cucumbers, so most professionals preferred them on the job. When they had been researching what sort of clientele they could expect, the other escorts, affectionately known as their ‘Big Sisters’, had told them that Asian clients were generally better business-wise, because of the fact that they weren’t too pushy, and didn’t leave the escort feeling stretched out of shape; most of them paid well too, because they held corporate salary jobs. At least, the ones who saw escorts worked corporate salary jobs.
Tasha enjoyed a bigger dick, but she also saw the good sense in not having to accommodate trouser anacondas all day if she were doing this type of work full time; since Becky, specifically her sugar daddy, was taking care of rent, she had stopped escorting with Azure Pure when their free subscription ended. Conversely, their Big Sisters also told them that while it wouldn’t be right to stereotype, some of them didn’t see Black clients, or had similar racial filters. It was a surprise for the two budding young escorts to hear that a fair few of the other girls had experienced cases where a black client refused to wear protection, or even tried to haggle with the price, and in some cases, said client had even turned violent. Apparently, Indian clients were often quite insistent on negotiating prices as well, which also resulted in some escorts filtering them in addition to black clients. When Becky expressed that it did seem rather discriminatory, a particularly jaded escort in the chat group, Minerva, said that it was better to be safe than sorry- simply going by the statistics was tough on a few, but necessary for their business practices to thrive. Becky thought for a moment, trying to recall what last night’s experience revealed about Tom. Finally, she spoke, half to herself and half to Tasha,
“He’s not the longest I’ve had, about on the larger end of average, but in terms of girth, he’s thicker than almost any of the guys I’ve been with. There was something I can’t quite put my finger on though: when he was inside me, sometimes he felt, like, more… swelled up? … I dunno, have you ever experienced that?” Tasha was curious, and intrigued about what Becky described to her, saying,
“Can’t say I have, but it’s nice to know the Muffin Man has a magic rolling pin as well magic hands too! Does he have a magic tongue as well?” Absentmindedly, Becky said,
“I’ll have to find out sometime, but with what he’s shown me so far, I’d bet on those odds.”
Tasha, and eventually Becky, snickered at their girl talk, before Tasha had to go and scoot off to her real job as a day care assistant. Unlike Becky, who was an only child, Tasha had three brothers who had taught her how to handle little brats at a young age, which made her an exceptionally good child minder. As Tasha had to leave in a hurry Becky offered to do the washing up, not realising that Tasha had meant all the dishes from last night as well. Josh (Krissy’s fiancé) had come over, and they decided to have a Mexican themed dinner, the leftovers of which Becky and Tasha had just finished eating for lunch, and there was now a substantial pile of dishes waiting to be cleaned.
Becky normally hated doing dishes, but today she was taking a new perspective on life. Tom’s talk of metaphysics had sparked an interest in her everyday surroundings, and she happily began to soak the dishes in hot water and dish washing liquid, which was floral scented. As she took in the steam, perfumed by antibacterial floral detergent, her mind drifted back to last night, when Tom had played with her body. The running water and general burble of the sink was calming, and she entered a trance like state while she cleaned the dishes. How remarkable it was that the soapy water she scrubbed with could reminded her of the way Tom had rubbed her body last night, and as she continued to wipe away at the food stains, her mind drifted back to the way he had touched her. So slippery, so smooth, so mesmerising… Daydreaming about him, she drifted away for a moment as she fantasied that she was with him now, imagining the feel of his muscled torso, and her breathing became fainter.
KERCHINCH!
Becky snapped back to reality from her day dreaming to see that she had become so absent-minded, and had dropped the plate she was cleaning, which broke into a few large fragments. Embarrassed and alarmed, the adrenaline spiking through her system, she cleaned up the mess, tossed it into the trashbag, which she immediately threw away in their garbage chute, and finished washing the dishes in a more focused manner. She was glad that Tasha hadn’t been there to see this, as her friend might have guessed that her lack of concentration was due to her preoccupation with Tom. Who still hadn’t called her, even though he said he would be in touch soon!
Finished with the chore, she got herself ready to go to her afternoon class, but despite it being her favourite one, she still found herself thinking about him until she got back that evening. It wasn’t until later, when she was about to go to sleep, disappointed, that he called her and she deliberately waited a few rings before picking up.
“Oh hello stranger, what can I do for you?” Though she was deliberately being prim, she was only delighted to hear from him. With that joking manner of him, he said,
“My sweetest and most forgiving Becky, I hope you can forgive my impunctuality, and for disturbing your rest?” He was extra playful, unaffected by her faux iciness, and she relented.
“I am a most gracious and magnanimous individual, so I suppose you may be pardoned, on this occasion.”
“I’m sorry for calling this late, but I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t going to keep my promise. How was your day?”
“It was fine.” She told him about what she did, what she had for lunch and dinner, how she found her class, and just everything that was on her mind. He listened patiently, never interrupting her, and when she was done, she felt much less anxious than she had been in the past couple of hours, until the topic of when to meet next came up. Becky was starting to get behind on her studies, and Thomas encourage her to focus on that for the next couple of days. Then he asked her something that came completely out of left field, as she would say in baseball terminology,
“For our next meeting, when you’re caught up with everything, could you take me out on a date? I want to go somewhere and do something that you enjoy, and I don’t have any other specifications as long as those two are met. Let me know when you decide?”
“Sure! Leave it to me.”
“Okay, I’d better let you get to sleep now. Goodnight, Becky, sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Tom. See you there.”
She was initially pleased, even a little flattered, that he wanted to do something that was truly her thing, but that soon wore off as anxiety set in. What if she took him to something he hated? What if he decided that she was too immature for him and wanted to end their agreement early? They didn’t exactly have an airtight contract, but he had already assured her that even if they chose to end things early, the apartment lease wouldn’t be jeopardised. Even so, she was more concerned about losing him than the apartment, and she decided that the date she planned had to be just right. Tom was initially adamant that their relationship was only meant to be a six-month contractual agreement, but she was determined to change his mind by the end of that time, as well as save his soul from the loneliness she sensed within.
While Becky spent the next few days planning the ultimate date, Thomas was feeling more alive than he had in quite some time. That night, when he and Becky had first become truly intimate with one another, he was secretly nervous to the point of having some performance issues. It had been a while since he had gotten involved with a girl in that manner, and he was pleased that all of his equipment was still running despite being laid off for so many years. Not that he didn’t run self-tests on occasion, but this was different- real sex was always different to what the movies or pornography portrayed, yet their first time wasn’t awkward or cumbersome at all! He had thanked the metaphysical gods for that rather smooth transition between something more than friends to actual lovers, and was in a positively supercharged mood for the next few days. It was almost as if a part of him had forgotten how great it was to sleep with a beautiful girl who enjoyed his company, as far as he knew, even if she was technically being paid by him to do so. It was very primal, but he felt more like a man as a result of it.
Still, he couldn’t let his guard down completely- they had known each other barely for a fortnight, and he was not ready to discard his masks completely. Not yet. But he didn’t let that worry him much as he spent the next few days working out, rehabilitating his knee (which was still not fully healed from his time in the desert), and making plans for what would come in half a year. A few days after he had called her, she returned the gesture, and he picked up immediately, not realising how much he had missed her pleasant voice. After some catching up, she revealed that she had planned a very special date for them.
“You know, I kept thinking about how I should impress you with my sophistication and cultural knowledge, but that would be something that seems closer to your own interests, and I recall that you wanted to experience something that was uniquely a part of mine. So, how are you with loud music?”
“I love it, there’s nothing like getting lost in those deafening vibrations. Why? What do you have in mind?” Encouraged, she explained,
“Well, I was thinking we could go to that 80’s rock concert being held at the convention centre. It’s mostly just bands doing covers of classic 80’s rock ballads, but I love that genre of music, and I figured that we could go and jam to some good old vibes, you know?” He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she thought that perhaps she had offended him somehow. To her relief, and subsequent delight, it was quite the opposite.
“Oh my goodness, that’s an amazing idea! For a moment I thought you were suggesting we go to a club, which would have been fine, but a rock concert just has so much more personality! I guess I need to start raising my standards around you, Becky-hime. What are the details? I want to hear more!”
She told him that she had bought tickets for the upcoming Saturday, and he enquired if Tasha was coming along too. Although she hadn’t thought to include her, Thomas reassured Becky that it was perfectly okay as the three of them didn’t have to stay together the entire time, and could enjoy their own personal time on the date. With gratitude, she said,
“You’re so considerate Tom, I swear you need to be a little more selfish sometimes.”
“I am being selfish here, Becky, because if Tash is there too, we won’t have to hear her whine later about how she couldn’t go, right?” She wasn’t convinced, but played along,
“Well when you put it that way, yeah, you are quite the selfish jerk aren’t you?”
They both laughed at her brazen tone, and he reminded, nay insisted, that she use that card he got her to purchase whatever they needed, citing that it, too, was selfishness on his part, as the more things were bought with it, the greater number of rewards points he would accrue. She acquiesced to his selfish generosity, and Tasha was thrilled. As Tom was covering their rent for the next half year, they both found themselves with a more disposable cash. Cash that they were partly able to enjoy using on themselves, but also partly, and wisely, squirrelling away, just in case things changed again, and there was no knight in metaphysical armour to rescue them.
In no time at all it seemed, Saturday had come around, and Tom arrived at their place in the late afternoon to join up with the two girls; they had decided to take public transport as to add an element of adventure to their journey, though Tasha would separate once they arrived, and might very well end up spending the night at some random guy’s place. Instead of his usual smart casual-formal wear, Tom was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a tan leather jacket with an interesting collar design, and his short hair was slicked back, giving it a somewhat spiked look. Becky had gone with a Cyndi Lauper look, with a denim jacket and colourful dress, all garnished with coloured highlights in her hair. Tasha had gone with something that was more punk, complete with fishnet stockings and very bold make-up. The three of them made their way towards the convention centre, and Tom revealed that despite being born in the 80’s, he wasn’t very familiar with their music, and had hoped to pick up some new tunes for his music playlist tonight. The music we like is determined by several important factors: individual tastes, as with a lot of things, but also the memory associations that accompany when and where we hear certain songs. Thus, he was expecting to become attached to quite a few tracks this evening.
Once they arrived, and got processed by the admissions gate, Tasha wandered off, telling them to live like there was no tomorrow, giving her bestie a wink before disappearing into the crowds. Cover bands were not always reliable in recreating the signature vibes of their source materials, but on this occasion, Becky was not disappointed as the bands began to blast ballad after ballad, and she witnessed Tom fall in love with the music of the 80’s. Her own father used to play 80’s music all the time, when she was a little girl, and even after the divorce, she felt that they had bonded over the genre, so this music was nostalgic to her. As for Tom, he had heard these songs before on the radio, but tonight was when he first truly listened to them as he and Becky bopped their heads and moved along with the music. He seemed particularly captivated by Culture Club’s Karma Chameleon, and she found it cute that he was enraptured by the lyrics. Everything was going great, and she was darn well proud of herself, until the half time break, where Tasha reunited with them, and gave Becky some troubling news while they were in the powder room.
“Becky, I don’t know if you know, but I saw Wayne in the crowd before, watching you from a distance with Tom, and he looked pretty pissed.”
Becky maintained her composure, but she developed a sinking feeling in her gut when Tasha relayed this news to her.
“You mean getting piss drunk, or looking pissed as in angry?”
“Both.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Just thought you should be aware girl.”
“Thanks Tasha, you’re the best.”
She pushed down that gut feeling, and was determined to continue as necessary to ensure that Tom enjoyed the date she planned. As the second half began, her worries also began to dissipate. There were so many people here, so Wayne probably wouldn’t even run into them, right? Then the Cyndi Lauper songs were performed, and she forget her trepidations as she held Tom’s hand, and leaned on him, the two getting lost in a mutual side embrace as well as the funky melodies of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Nothing was going to ruin tonight, she told herself, half hoping, half preparing herself for the worst.
Chapter 11: Meeting the Ex
“That was incredible, you’re incredible, everything’s incredible!”
Tom was ecstatic as he hummed a beat that seemed to be a composite of all the songs they heard that night, and danced a small jig. She watched him, and observed how he was happy, not just smiling that semi-sarcastic grin, but truly happy, and it brought her much joy to see how carefree his body language was now. They were letting the aftermath of the performances wash over them, taking a leisurely stroll outside the convention centre towards the train station.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Tom?” She was amused that he was so enthusiastic, like a little boy, which she never would have imagined prior, even of the eccentrically polite and chivalrous Thomas Kei.
“I am absolutely over the moon! Man, I wish I had gone to music concerts earlier in my life, but I never had anyone to go to them with, and I guess I just kept neglecting it. Thank you, Becky, I loved this!” It was not difficult to feel proud of herself, especially as Tom’s elation was infectious, and she asked,
“What was your favourite song?”
He pondered the question as they continued walking along the path, before telling her what she had suspected,
“There were so many, but I was particularly captivated by that Karma Chameleon song. I am a firm believer of Karma, so I guess it makes sense?”
“Haha, yeah, that would be your song, wouldn’t it?” In turn, he asked her,
“What’s your favourite, did they play it tonight?”
She smiled, and mused over her response, before telling him about how this type of music reminded her of her father,
“So, I don’t have one favourite, even though I really wanna say it’s anything by Cyndi Lauper. All of this stuff was what my dad used to play all the time in his man den- that’s what my mother called his study room, because we were never allowed in if he could help it. But my mother and I used to sneak in to clean it up a bit, which he never seemed to mind. Since he left my mother when I was young, I guess this music is a way to stay spiritually close to him. Plus, as someone who plays music, the 80’s sound just feel more real than what we have today, you know?”
Tom held her tighter, which she reciprocated, and asked her more details about her father while sharing details of his own family life,
“My own parents are divorced, but they still keep in contact quite often because of my siblings, even though I don’t particularly understand why they even bothered. But I guess your father felt like he had his reasons?” Contrary to the earlier lightheartedness, the mood was now a little sombre, as they talked about their families, and she sid, half to him and half to herself,
“Well, I kept thinking about it for years, and I thought it was something I had done, you know? Like, I guess every child thinks a divorce is their fault, but my mother made sure to tell me that he loved me and that he was only going away for a while before he would come back home. It took me a while to realise that he wasn’t coming back… but he writes a letter every now and then, which I do read- it usually just has a few updates, and some money. But as an adult, in many ways, I’m glad that he left if he wasn’t happy, even though it really hurt my mother. And me too, I suppose. She never remarried, and I’m an only child, so I try to call her whenever I can. She likes knowing about me, and the men in my life… ”
“Hmmm.” Realising that she may have given him the wrong impression, she quickly explained,
“Oh, but I haven’t said anything about us yet, or what’s been happening since Wayne… for what it’s worth, I think she’d approve of you, especially of how well you treat me… She may not say it, but I think my father leaving gave her a low opinion of men in general.”
Tom merely nodded and murmured his concurrence, deep in thought at the idea of what made relationships succeed or fail: a question that many philosophers have attacked in the past, but have yet to address in a universally satisfactory way. Sensing how sombre the mood had become, Becky tried to lighten the atmosphere by asking if he wanted to grab some frozen yoghurt, to which he happily accepted.
“Let’s stop at the first place that isn’t closed.”
Unfortunately, every frozen yoghurt place they passed was closed, so the two resolved to get anything they could find at this hour. It took a bit more walking before they found a place that was open, but the brightly lit gelato shop, attended by an adorably fresh-faced counterhand, made it worthwhile. A few moments later the two walked out with two waffle cones, a mango sorbet for Tom and a rainbow melon flavour that Becky simply had to get after trying the free sample.
“Mmmm, this is so yummy Tom, wanna try it?”
“Sure, but how would I do that?”, he asked, with a falsely innocent look. Getting a mischievous glint in her eyes, she licked her dessert, and then french-kissed him, enjoying how the cold treat melted and became replaced with his warm tongue in her mouth. This continued long after the frozen yogurt was absent from either of their mouths. Slowly, they pulled away, not saying a word, but the look in their eyes conveyed all the meaning required in that situation. And so it was, until they paid more attention to their desserts.
“Oh no, the mango sorbet is melting!”
In the time they had spent making out, both of their cones were now dripping and they frantically began to lap it up. Becky noticed that he was particularly good at curving his tongue around the cone, almost as if he were moulding clay- just something for her to file away for later. Their laughter was cut short when a voice behind them interrupted their moment,
‘You little slut! I bet you enjoyed that didn’t you?” The voice was cold and accusatory, and they turned around to face her ex, Wayne, who had seemingly followed them from the concert, and thr last person she would have wanted to run into at this moment.
As Tasha mentioned, he had clearly been drinking, and was carrying a can of Jack Daniels in his left hand. That sinking feeling Becky had in her gut from earlier resurfaced, and was now replaced by a frosty feeling that had nothing to do with the ice cream she had ingested. Tom was not yet aware of who this person was, so he simply said,
“Now now buddy, you’ve been drinking so we’ll let that slide. But you’d better keep moving, and try not insult anybody else until you sober up.”
“Shut up, you don’t know who I am? That bitch there is my ex!”
Before Wayne revealed that, Tom’s tone was polite, almost understanding, but now his eyes narrowed and his face grew hard.
‘In that case, you have more reason to keep moving. It would be better if we avoided any trouble.”
Becky was glaring at Wayne, whom she loathed at that moment for spoiling her evening out with Tom. Wayne staggered closer to them, neither side taking a step back. He then became apologetic, and beseeched Becky to return to him,
“Baby, listen, I’m sorry I was a cheating bastard! I won’t do it again, so can we please get back together? I took ya for granted, but the truth is I need you in my life. Please, won’t you forgive me?”
She sighed: he was clearly in one of his drunken stupors, and she said to Tom,
“He’s had a bit too much to drink, let’s just go.” They proceeded to walk away but Wayne followed them, calling out to Becky in a manner she found most pathetic. She couldn’t stand it, so she turned around to face him,
“Go home Wayne! I haven’t forgotten what kind of low life you are, so just leave, okay!?”
Her ex was closer now, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath,
“Please Becky, it’s killing me to know that yer mad at me! I just want another chance, can’t you give me that? We shared so much together, you don’t have to make me jealous by dating this loser here! How can he even satisfy you with his tiny dick, huh?”
Becky fumed at the remark, more so than Tom did (visibly anyway), and snapped back at Wayne,
“You’re so fuckin’ rude Wayne! I told you already, it’s over between us, okay? I gave you more chances than you deserved, and you blew every single one of them! But if it matters so much to you, let me tell you something: he’s bigger than you, and the sex is waaaay hotter, so go suck on that you low-life!”
Wayne didn’t take that remark so kindly, and she instinctively flinched as her raised a hand to strike her. That blow never arrived, as Tom blocked it with his own forearm, and the recoil sent Wayne sprawling on the sidewalk, spilling the contents of his drink can over his clothes. He swore foulness and got back up, while Becky watched as Tom moved between her and the drunken idiot. Wayne screamed and cursed at Tom,
“Oi! What’s your fuckin’ problem mate!? You just ruined my clothes!”
She watched as Wayne closed the distance. The voice Becky heard next wasn’t the polite and conscientious Tom she was used to: it was a powerful, cold voice that didn’t remotely belong to anyone so friendly,
“I was in a good mood tonight. Now get lost, and consider yourself lucky I didn’t put you a hospital.”
It was chilling to hear the words spoken, but his body language was even more intimidating: there was not a hint of hesitation, nor any doubt, that Tom meant business. Unfortunately, the other man was bolstered by liquid courage, had a disgruntled disposition, and was a few inches taller than Tom, which might have given him the impression that he could match the shorter man in pugilism. Bristling, Wayne shouted,
“You think ya so tough huh?! Why do you care so much about that slut anyway!?” Roughly, he tried to shove Tom backwards, but failed to move him, at which point Tom reciprocated the move, and flung the other man into the dumpsters by the wall. More cursing occurred, as Wayne got back up, and proceeded to walk over to Tom, whose back was still to Becky, as she watched on, frozen in place. This time, Wayne grabbed the metal lid off the top of the dumpster, and wildly swung it towards Tom’s head. Again, Tom simply intercepted the incoming arm and grabbed Wayne’s arm, dragging his body to the ground and then flipped him onto his stomach. Tom then returned to Becky’s side, his features softening somewhat as he smiled reassuringly at her. However, Wayne hadn’t learned his lesson yet, and rose for the third time, running towards Tom with the metal lid, intent on bludgeoning him!
The next part was something Becky scarcely believed happened as Tom spun around, disarmed his assailant, and then, in one swift motion, ripped the metal lid in half before throwing the pieces to the ground, with a heavy clatter. This got Wayne’s attention as he tried to back away, tripping over, and seemingly paralysed by the danger he was in: Becky saw that her ex’s eyes were wide with fear and panic. She couldn’t see Tom’s face, but the voice was chillingly ruthless as he told the man on the ground,
“When you wake up, you’re not going to have much of a nose left.” He raised his leg and Becky realised what he was about to do!
“Stop! Please, don’t, he’s not worth it!”
He kept his foot in the air for a lingering moment, and Becky was worried that he wasn’t going to listen to her. But he did, and then crouched down low, and muttered something to Wayne, who merely nodded like a frightened bunny. Tom, the got up, neatened his clothes, and turned around to face Becky with a smile. His Nice mask was back on.
“You’re right, Becky, he’s not worth it. Let’s go.” He said it quietly, and she held him tightly as they left the area. It was only when they were on the train back that she spoke, and at that point Tom had resumed his normal voice and mannerisms. He reassured her that he was fine, and was just concerned for her wellbeing. When she asked him how he had managed to rip steel in half, he laughed cheerfully, and explained.
“That dumpster lid was made of a galvanised metal, which has a zinc coating, and it’s not actually very durable. The lid also had an existing crack that let me tear it in half more easily, like when you tug at a tear in fabric. So please don’t think that I’m Superman, or anything like that.” Becky mulled over what he said, but reasoned,
“All the same, you must be pretty strong to do it! And what did you say to him when he was on the ground?”
He seemed slightly hesitant to tell her, but she insisted on knowing, and he relented.
“I just said that if he ever came near you again, I would do to his manhood what I did to the lid. Not so eloquently of course. Hah, it’s corny in hindsight, right?”
She didn’t think so, and realised how terrified Wayne must have been in that situation: the man valued his genitals like the gift to women he believed them to be. Then, with a continued sense of wonder, she looked at Tom, who was smiling and humming the tune to Karma Chameleon, and said to him,
“You’re actually a dangerous man, aren’t you, Tom? You just hide it with goofy jokes and archaic etiquette.” With that coy grin of his, he responded with,
“I don’t know what you mean Becky, but let’s say you’re right. Does it make you afraid of me?” With raised brows, she responded in kind,
“Not really. You defended my honour! It actually kind of a turn-on.”
“Did you mean what you said before, about the sex being better with me?”
“Oh, definitely, even though we’ve only done it once. So far, anyway.” He chuckled, then asked rather sheepishly,
“And, uh, am I… uh, bigger than him too, or was that just to get under his skin?”
She smiled, thinking that boys will be always be boys, telling him,
“No contest, stud.”
He beamed, and looked noticeably proud as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Thanks Becky.”
Once they returned to her apartment, the two of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Good thing that Tash had sent her a text saying she wasn’t going to be home, and to not wait up for her. All the excitement of earlier, combined with the general euphoria of sharing her interests with Tom, made her rather frisky, and after their first time together, Tom was more open about expressing his physicality with her. Perhaps he was emboldened by her favourable comparisons between him and her ex, for he was noticeably more confident tonight, and more adventurous with his positions.
Author Here: You don’t want to read about these two being so into each other. Plus if you’re reading this kinda story you either followed me here from my more serious work, or you are likely sexually frustrated; so getting into the details of their passion would probably just irritate you, and as such I have spared you that ire! Describing it as ‘animalistic’ is probably not giving it justice, but just know that the two of them were able to process a lot of emotions as their instincts took over, as all good sex is wont to do.
After that intense session, they spent the next few minutes recuperating, catching their breaths, and silently basking in the afterglow of their love making. He recovered first, and gently stroked her until she became more receptive to her surroundings, and when her eyes could once again focus on his, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, then her forehead, before adjusting her slightly into a more comfortable position, and tucked the covers over her naked body, which had become quite cool from all the sweat. He had seemingly managed to love her brains out, and it was only the second time they had done it- a high standard to maintain. But she didn’t think of that as she gave into the enveloping darkness of oblivion, and soon her breathing was more evenly paced as she enjoyed a deep slumber.
He wasn’t next to her when she woke up in the early hours of dawn, and she instinctively felt his absence as she wanted to be held in his all-encompassing arms. Her whole body felt sore in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time, but it was the good kind of soreness, akin to a productive work out session; considering the number of calories they had burned last night, she supposed it wasn’t so unusual. Lying in bed, she breathed deeply, taking in the musk of their sweat, those residual embers of a previously raging fire, and she contemplated about… nothing. It was a very refreshing feeling.
Chapter 12- What IS a promiscuous creature?
The gym was busy, which might be a good sign for the patrons, but in reality, gyms made their money from people who wished that they could go, not the people who actually went. Signing up for a membership is akin to a coping mechanism, if you never actually use it. Yes, that applies to the people who only came by to frequent the café, which was another feature of this place that was sure to make it even more financially solvent. Becky and Tasha loved this particular gym, because the interior designer had taken great lengths to appeal to people’s vanity, which meant that selfies were always being taken at various spots. Of course, the general vibe was good too, with superior climate control technology, and an absolutely rad playlist of songs to get pumped up with. The two used to come by mainly for the yoga sessions, but on this occasion, Becky had wanted to do some works-outs instead, which Tasha was initially thrilled with. However, she was soon puffed out, amazed that Becky had so much energy, as well as some sort of unknown motivation to get fitter. Haggardly, she said to her brunnette friend,
“Okay Becky- you gotta slow down girl- I’m really fighting this incline- ya know?!”, Breathlessly, but equally determined, Becky parroted a bunch of slogans to her blonde gym partner,
“Get comfy with the uncomfortable- No pain, no gain- discomfort is temporary, quitting is forever!” Becky’s eyes were steely and unwavering: there would be no going easy today.
They continued on the treadmills a little more, before Tasha’s legs gave out, and about a minute afterwards, Becky also slowed down before coming to a stop. It had been a good forty-five minutes since they arrived, and there was none of the usual preamble, the tactful comparisons between the other girls who regularly attended the gym, as well as sneak peeks at the guys here, and, so far, not a single selfie! But even if Becky was possessed by some strange new purpose for training, perhaps to take vengeance for a slain family member or something similar, she herself was not exactly in the best of shape, which meant that her lungs and muscles had to face that reality sooner or later- it was time for a break! One of the guys, who they knew as a regular, a blondie in his early twenties who always seemed to be there when they were, approached them as he casually leaned on the treadmills they were using, and flashed a smile,
“Wow, you two were really cardio queens just now, especially you!” he said, indicating to Becky. Not that Tasha didn’t get plenty of attention in public, but Becky was curvier, and sweatpants plus a tank top really accentuated that fact. Right now, her friend was positively glowing, and the heaving of her chest from all that cardio probably made her an irresistible magnet to a lot of the guys (and some girls) here- in Tasha’s mind, they were glorious, and deserved to be recognised as a national treasure. Becky smiled politely, and nodded her thanks, and the guy thought he now had an opening,
“So, do you wanna go and grab a smoothie from the café? I’m about done with my sets, and I gotta take my shake, ya know?”
Becky, still taking deep breaths, wasted no words shattering the poor boy’s confidence,
“Thanks but no thanks- I have a- I’m seeing someone.”
He looked visibly dejected, and brushed it off before making his way out to the main foyer, where the café was located. Tash and Becky then talked about something all girls experience at the gym.
“I wish guys knew that if we wanted them to hit on us at the gym, we’d approach them. Otherwise, we’re here to work out, you know?”
“Yeah, but at least he wasn’t enough of a douche to ask me out after getting knocked back by you, I can respect that. Plus, did you see his glutes? Yummy!”
Becky was indifferent to Tasha’s assessment.
“Eh, I didn’t notice.”
“Okay Becky, what’s going on!? I mean, we used to have fun flirting with the guys, even if we weren’t going to do anything more, but today you’ve been a woman on a mission! What happened? Did Tom say something about your appearance, maybe called you a sea mammal of some kind?” Becky balked at the suggestion, saying,
“What? No, he hasn’t called me a whale, or suggested anything like it! I just felt like getting fitter, you know? Really maximise my body, girl power and all that…”
“I was thinking more like manatee…Wait a minute, oh my god, you’re trying to look good for him, aren’t you?! Not because he called you fat, but because you really liiike him: confess!” Tasha suddenly realised why Becky was so motivated now, and it was adorable. Becky tried to deflect it, but they both know she had hit the nail on the head. Not looking at Tasha, Becky said,
“Bitch please, I always look good, for myself and not just him, okay? But actually, I’m not doing it to look good, I’m doing it to feel good.”
Tasha looked puzzled, saying,
“What’s the difference? You look good, you’d feel good, right?”
Becky elaborated further.
“Well, yeah, but- okay, I’ll level with you. Tom is pretty muscly right?”
Tasha agreed, the man was really well built, and Becky had confirmed that he looked great in a suit, but even better without one. She continued her point,
“Yeah, well, it’s not just that he had muscles, he’s got this whole ‘cosmic energy’ about him, something that’s not quite athletic fitness, but a type of extra vitality. And if we’re being honest, maybe I kind of wanna see if I can match that energy, which is why I was pushing it today.” Snickering, Tasha joked,
“Ah, of course. He’s that good in bed huh? I suppose you’ll be worshipping him as your sex messiah next, right?”
“Natasha!”
“Rebecca!”
“…”
Both were quiet as they faced down the other.
“Hahahhah!” They both lost it, and started to laugh, which felt great after a good intensive work out, except for one thing: their sides literally started splitting, as their cores were now cooled down and still recovering from the previous intensity. Tasha winced as she said,
“Ow! I can’t believe it hurts so much, I can’t even remember the last time we did this much exercise!”
“I can! It was the last year of high school, and we wanted to rub it in Alice’s face during the sports carnival, remember?”
“Oh yeah, but I must have repressed it, coz she still kicked our asses in all the events! I swear to God, she’s fast for such a beefy girl. Last I heard, she does Brazilian jujitsu now, and she’s dominating the women’s divisions. Good for her…”
They chatted about nothing for a while, until their bodies recovered enough to move without too much discomfort, and then made their way to the upstairs studio for the yoga session that was about to start. It was exactly what the doctor prescribed, as the two focused on their breathing, and stretching out their worn muscles: they left the class feeling much more limber. Tasha asked what they wanted to get for lunch, but they decided against it as Becky had to go to class on ‘Controversial Sociological Phenomena’, which was her favourite one of the semester. Instead of a proper lunch, she opted to get something from the food court on campus, which she normally avoided as it was pricier, but as money wasn’t much of a problem these days, she indulged herself. Tom had insisted on giving her a monthly allowance, with was substantial, but with their rent taken care of, she was quite financially comfortable with just her own streams of income, and didn’t touch his funds.
She arrived in the lecture hall a little bit early, and while waiting for the lecturer she watched the other students trickle in, an assortment of the dishevelled zombies, interspersed with those who were looking almost too professionally dressed for class. Mostly women took this unit, but a dedicated segment, roughly thirty percent overall, were guys. She heard that it was flipped in tertiary streams such as Engineering, but the whole education system was seeking to “redress this imbalance of genders”. Becky had always considered herself a progressive modern woman, but it seemed that the need to create an equal ratio of gendered and racial students completely missed the point of what equal opportunity meant; was it any less contrived, if the results were deliberately doctored to reflect something more ‘socially acceptable’, as opposed to imposing limits in the first place? Perhaps she didn’t understand the plight of the marginalised as well as she thought, but sociology was definitely her field, and she was a High Distinction student because she could really understand the subtle micro evolutions of societal norms.
Today’s class was unusually packed, but when she rechecked the topic, it made sense: the topic was Societal Promiscuity, Then and Now. To be fair, it was a raunchy topic at first glance, and according to the lecturer, it was deliberately intended to give off that impression to reinforce the points of the lecture. Professor Jaime was also her favourite lecturer, due to her ability to make almost anything intellectually stimulating, as well as entertaining. Fixing her glasses as she addressed the lecture theatre, she began,
“So, class, today’s topic is Societal Promiscuities: Then and Now. Promiscuity- it’s a naughty word, but what is considered ‘promiscuous’ isn’t the same as why something is promiscuous. We usually think it means to be highly sexually active, or networking in a sexual manner, but another general way of seeing it is anything that challenges the idea of monogamous relationships. Let’s explore the term broadly, in the Animal Kingdom, before we start applying it to our own societal standards. Yes, I know that it seems quite preposterous for us to think that a concept so very human, with its connotations of Judgement and Shame, Guilt even, could apply to animals… But that is where you would be mistaken!
Firstly, let’s ask ourselves: is the term relative? Should promiscuity be a subjective measure of how much ‘action’ a person gets, if we look at it from the lens of a puritanical, almost ‘prudish’, society? There were times, and cultures today even, that would consider anything even remotely sexual as grounds to brand a person with the label of promiscuous: usually women, but not always, an important note to get into later. But in the animal kingdom, I want us to consider some examples which are included to draw contrasts and comparisons to how our own society considers the term. The first one is the bonobo, which many of you will mistakenly believe to be just a chimpanzee, but they are more like us than even chimps, because of the way their society is structured, which is around sex. Yes, they do not sound so different from us now, do they?”
The class responded with an assortment of chortles and snickers from various students, male and female. Professor Jaime continued,
“Bonobo society is significantly more peaceful because of the social interplay of using sexual gratification as a means to control their society. If the guys become aggressive, a quickie usually calms them down, placating them: this applies to male bonobos too, not just our men, hah! But what if females get aggressive? The same thing happens, with another party sexually stimulating said female until she calms down- this reduces catty infighting. Literally, these creatures, which are amongst our closest living relatives in the Animal Kingdom, have a society centred around the slogan of “Make Love, Not War”, and this is possible in part due to the lands they inhabit, which have a greater abundance of food and fewer natural predators, like us, as well as not having the same taboos we do regarding sexual behaviour, not like us. Do we then, in our own societal ascertainment, judge them to be a very promiscuous society, and as such, can the term be applied to any one bonobo if the entire species follows that trend?
Let’s take another example, involving reptiles, which most of us aren’t very closely related to, I should hope: I’m talking about the Common Side Blotched Lizard, often known as the ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ Lizards because of their mating strategy. Males are divided into hyper-dominant orange throaters, dominant blue throaters, and sneaky yellow throaters. Our orange throated males have larger territories and ‘harems’ of females, while the blues have a smaller territory and usually just one female: immediately we can draw parallels between monogamous and polygamous relationships. The yellow-throated males don’t have territory, but instead ‘sneak-breed’ with the females they encounter, so let’s call them the Casanovas, or home-wrecker lizards.” After the class settle down from that comment, she continued,
“The reason their mating styles are referred to as ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’, is because a hyper dominant male has a larger number of mates, but less time invested in getting to know them; the average dominant ones only have one mate who they spend a lot of time with, and the yellows simply mate with whichever girl they can, BUT the latter are significantly more successful with those of the orange throated males, as he has too many females to keep a very watchful eye out on, and the yellow throated males can pass for females, thus getting under his radar. We could romanticise the blue throated males developing a stronger bond with their own female, which is why the yellows are unsuccessful with them most of the time, but there is also the more pragmatic view that the yellows simply have no opportunity to mate with the partner of the blue throated males, because he’s better suited to keep an eye on his smaller territory.
Now, let’s look at the females, and as stated previously, the partners of the blue throats do not usually engage in mating with the yellow throated males, but the females of an orange throat show no problem being ‘unfaithful’, so to speak. The yellow throated males can sometimes become blue throated if an opportunity arises for them to ‘settle down with the right girl’. Females don’t have much differentiation, but we can get orange throated ones as well as the yellow throated ones: the former tend to have larger clutches of smaller eggs, while the latter have smaller clutches of larger eggs, kind of like a Quantity versus Quality situation. This is reflected in our own society with families that have large households of children, which results in less individual focus across the progeny. In nature, this is known as r/K selection theory, which respectively describes when it would be better to have lots of offspring with little parenting, meaning that they rely on statistics to ensure some survive, as opposed to fewer offspring who receive more invested parenting- damn prep school kids, I know, I hate them too. Joking! Okay, let’s focus!”
Professor Jaime paused to take a drink, clearing her throat before continuing.
“Lastly, let’s talk about birds, and the fact that despite us believing birds were mostly monogamous, many bird species are actually engaging in very promiscuous behaviour, even when couples share a nest. One species of sparrow, the saltmarsh sparrow, is known as the most promiscuous bird out there: am I the only one here who thinks that the term ‘slutty saltmarsh sparrows’ is rather catchy, almost like a band name? They are a species of Maine birds, once again divided into three main archetypes: the territorial male, the satellite-orbiter males, and the sneaky androgynous male, all in descending order of size. The males with territory can fight for mates, but the satellite males have to wait for their chance; they tend to be younger and weaker than the territory-holding males. Those sneaky androgynous males use a technique known as delayed plumage maturation to pass as females, and will engage in sex with females and sometimes other males. Some studies have indicated that, unlike the case of the different throat-coloured lizards, the territory-holding males allow this because such behaviour can attract females, who are equally promiscuous and likely to have offspring with different males in order to ensure her nest has a diversity of genetic traits. Wow, that was a lot to cover folks, but let’s get into the real juicy stuff: how does this apply to humans?
Every day, we are being bombarded with sexualisation, so in modern times, what does the term ‘promiscuous’ even mean anymore? According to one of your recommended texts, which I recommend you read just for the sheer pleasure of the author’s writing style, it is a term largely only applicable for women, and gay men, at least in terms of social taboo and stigma. Perhaps it is because males have always been seen to have a larger sex drive, and thus it is normal for them to engage in more frequent sexual behaviour, but more marginalised groups, like women and gay men, are not afforded that clemency. In fact, female pleasure, which is intrinsic to how we use the word promiscuous, was usually and still is repressed compared to how celebrated male sexual indulgences seem in comparison. ‘Slut’ is usually a derogatory term, and the pejorative can be said to stem from the ‘weakness’ of the target in sexually expressing themselves, a right traditionally reserved for straight males. Now, without a show of hands, because I don’t think I’m actually allowed to ask you this, but take a moment now to ask yourself this: do you enjoy sex, and do you believe that it makes you a slut, or an otherwise promiscuous being?”
The whole room was now filled with people giggling, or furtively looking around/avoiding people’s glances. Becky contemplated what it meant- she enjoyed sex, and no, she did not think of herself as a slut. But considering what Professor Jaime’s point could be, she tried to ask herself why she distinguished herself as NOT a slut- was it that she wasn’t a nymphomaniac? Could it be because she was never unfaithful in her relationships? Thinking of Wayne, she could see him qualifying for that term, but it just didn’t have the same impact as when it was applied to her- the way he had used that term, especially in front of Tom, had cut her, attacked her value as a person, which wasn’t exactly fair, was it?
Professor Jaime continued to elaborate on her previous points, and drew parallels between different human societies, and well as human society as a whole to the ones found in the animal kingdom. Eventually, after a lot of interactive questions with the class, which Becky loved about her style, the lecturer concluded that the term itself was as flexible as it needed to be to control power dynamics and maintain the status quo. In that light, it made sense why women and gay men were most punished by the tarred brush of ‘promiscuity’, because the status quo were normally straight males in any human culture, and while the last century had seen a push for progressiveness and diverse representation, the fact remained that society was at heart focused on social cohesion, with dominance hierarchies and marginalisation of things that threatened that stability. Dystopian societies, real or fictional, highlighted why it didn’t actually matter how much sex a person had, as long as it was regulated by the status quo, tying in all the points made about the different species and how promiscuities affected their own respective social stability. She ended the lecture with something that deeply resounded with Becky,
“As sexual desire is unpredictably passionate and powerful, sometimes to the point of overwhelming, it fundamentally resists the nature of what can be controlled, so the elites collectively believe it must be repressed, distorted, or sabotaged, in order to maintain the greater collective function of society. Yet, what is a society, if not for the individuals that comprise it, as well as giving substance to the ideals it stands for? Let’s address this paradox in next week’s lecture, which unfortunately some of you may judge to be not be as spicy as the one we’ve just had. Thanks, make sure you read the chapters outlined in the syllabus, and have your assignments ready by next week, or else you will be docked points, and some of you can’t afford that!”
Becky mused over points in the lecture as she made her way home: Tom surely wasn’t as sexually active as she had been, or so she had gathered, so why was she so taken with their love making sessions? There were many reasons, financial not being one of them, she was sure, but maybe, just maybe, it was because he was someone who had shut down a natural part of himself, but for what reasons, and to what end? And, as the only person he had slept with in recent memory, it was her self-given responsibility to find out, in due time. In a moment of vanity and ego: she was pleased that she could arouse a seemingly celibate man like Tom… He told her that he had never experienced true sexual attraction until her, and it made her feel so sexy and empowered. Also, a little bad, but in a good way!
Chapter 13: Sexy Hide and Seek
Becky was excited about going out with Tom for two reasons: he was taking her out to the theatre, to watch the musical production of Wicked, in town for a limited time only, and he had gotten them amazing seats. But the second reason excited her more: he was introducing her to his friends tonight, which she took to mean that he didn’t consider their relationship as a professional booty call, in a manner of phrasing.
Her thoughts on the ambiguity of their relationship had been acting up, as they would usually meet up once or twice a week, and usually did something sexual, but not always- sometimes, he just wanted to spend time getting emotionally intimate with her, or they went walking in the parks or by the beach, or they’d hang out at bars and dance at clubs. Occasionally, they even watched anime (whatever was trending or the classics) and cartoons like Regular Show, which featured a lot of 80’s music. Of course, they also tried out various toys they found at the local adult shops. Apparently, Tom did have a few different erotic experiences he wanted to try with her, and she never objected to any of them so far. He always asked her if she was comfortable doing those things, and to be honest, she usually ending up enjoying them as much, or even more, than he did. For instance, yesterday they had been shopping for something new to wear for the theatre, and Tom asked her if she was okay with an erotic game of Hide and Seek while at the mall. How was that meant to be erotic? Well, most games of Hide and Seek didn’t involve wearing vibrating panties.
Tom explained the rules and stages of the game: she would wear the remote-controlled device, and they would drive to the mall. Once there, he would activate it, and enter from a different side. This sex toy was specially designed to stimulate a woman in ways never seen before, at least according to the advertising. It would start to pulsate intermittently, synched to a playlist of 80’s music he had made especially for them, which varied the rhythm accordingly- it was a sweet gesture with a naughty twist. As the game went on, and the closer she made her way to him, the device would increase the frequency and intensity of the buzzing, and if she couldn’t take it anymore, she would then call him, not text him, and he would shut it off remotely. If she found him, then she would win the game, and he would take her shopping for jewellery she could wear at the musical. If she lost, then she would have to let him pick a costume for them to roleplay with sometime down the track. In her mind, it was a win-win situation.
He dropped her off at the main entranced and went to park somewhere. During the car ride she had gotten accustomed somewhat to having something electronic against her, though it wasn’t activated yet, and while wandering around, she soon found it easier to walk naturally. That was until she got a text from him, that just read,
Him: Game on.
The panties activated, and that was when she drew breath sharply, for the device was well positioned to stimulate her most sensitive zones, and her eyes shot open wide as the buzzing filled her body and mind with a plethora of new sensations. She owned a few vibrators, like practically every girls these days, at least those who didn’t live in a pseudo convent, but the act of self-pleasuring was one she did in the comfort and privacy of her own home. This was a first for her, being stimulated as such in a public area, knowing that the man who held the keys to her indecent experience was waiting for her to come and find him. The chase was on!
Becky wasn’t so worried at first, as the mall wasn’t that large, at least in her opinion. But when she was wearing vibrating panties, occasionally powerful enough to make her jolt with a mix of shock and pleasure, she may as well as been stuck wandering around the wilderness. Secretly, though, as she acclimated to the new sensations, she was actually enjoying the hunt for Tom, and she relished that everyone around her was oblivious to how she was feeling, except for the man doing this to her.
This game was also heightening her mood, her lust for his caress, and she had to resist the subconscious urge to adjust her underwear as the rhythms began to play increasingly stronger buzzes inside her. It was driving her mad, and something Tom had said about her, years ago, came to surface in her mind- maybe she did have an exhibitionist streak, because she found it so exciting as she desperately tried to reunite with him, longing for him to hold her tightly in his safe and oh so soothing caress. It got to the point at one stage that she dropped her handbag, and bending over to pick it up almost caused her to climax, a deep moan threatening to escape her lips. Soon, her mind began to grow fuzzy, hot and bothered, the dull ache of insatiable carnal desire budding to unbearable levels, and she almost considered throwing in the towel- she could always buy herself jewellery later. No, her momma didn’t raise no quitter! Fortunately, as she made her way up the escalators to the second floor, she saw him at the arcade, and he was playing a skill tester claw game. In Japan they were known as UFO claw machines, and she recalled him saying that he was quite good at them. Becky locked on to his position, and she made a beeline for him.
In his focus, he didn’t notice as she approached, and she watched as he carefully checked the angles of the target, a rainbow tofu plushie that was large enough to double as a cushion. She never trusted those machines, but Tom was as good as he said he was, and in one shot had managed to procure that adorable plushie. She quietly approached him with as much control as she could muster, given that the varied intensity of what was between her legs caused her body to spasm slightly. Hugging him from behind, she said,
“Tag, you’re it.”
He looked surprised, and amused, to see her as he turned around, and held her tightly. He whispered seductively into her ear, as she almost collapsed in his arms,
“Congratulations. Are you enjoying yourself?”
She whispered back, in a barely contained voice,
“Yes. Now turn it off unless you want everyone around us to hear just how much I’m enjoying myself.”
“Oooh, you’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you? I should really discipline you later.”
He kissed her deeply, which she reciprocated willingly, not caring that there were children about, and he reached into his pocket to shut of her special underwear. They remained kissing while he held her, supporting her legs until the feeling down there went back to normal. Well, almost normal, she still a little sensative. That was the most intense game of Hide and Seek they had ever played, but more importantly, she had won, and would relish picking out something later from the Swarovski store as a reminder of her triumph. Right now, however, she was just trying to regain her normal breathing pace, as Tom asked the attendant for a bag to carry away the prize he had won: yes, it was hers, and would forever be associated with the time she almost came to orgasm in a shopping mall.
They continued with the main reason they came here, which was shopping for something to wear to the production of Wicked tomorrow night, where she would finally meet his friends! Trying to find something that was just right was a chore, but eventually she found a few outfits that could make the impression she wanted- it needed to be green, but the right shade of green, and it had to contour well with the newly gained muscle tone she had developed from more gym sessions- she was very happy with the results, as her boobs hadn’t shrunk despite her lowered body fat, which Tasha claimed was supremely unfair, and making her feel even better about the results. Entering a change room together, she began to sort out what she wanted to try out first, but soon got distracted as Tom stroked her topless back, and her eyes glazed over as he kissed her neck so very tenderly. Without saying a word, she turned to kiss him, their tongues dancing while her hands unzipped the front pocket of his pants: he was hard, and she was still reeling from what their earlier game of Hide and Seek had done to her.
Tom smiled mischievously as he put a finger to her lips, signalling that they needed to be quiet, before unhooking her lavender bra, which was dry, but otherwise matched her underwear. Slowly, almost savouring the moment, he started silently alternately between sucking and licking her shapely breasts, making especially good use of his tongue to curve around her erect nipples. He deftly removed her special underwear and without it, her love nectar began to ebb out from deep inside her.
Author here: More censorship, for your benefit. Sex in the change rooms? Having spoken with friends who worked in department retail stores, this apparently does happen a lot! They just try to ignore it because no one gets paid enough to break up sex in a changing room. Airport Carparks though, apparently see a lot of action and the authorities there tend to try and shut it down. Again, something my friend in that department have told me.
Unfortunately, despite how close they were to a mutual climax, it was not to be, as they heard a teenage girl’s voice call out to them as she knocked on their change room door,
“Uh, hello! Is everything okay in there? Can I help you find something?”
Becky so close to finishing that she was prepared to ignore the well-meaning but naïve junior attendant, but Thomas was more conscientious and he replied in a rather well composed voice,
“No thank you, we’re fine! Just trying to see what outfits are a perfect fit,” he grinned at Becky who was flushed and quite occupied with what Tom had been doing to her, giving one last exuberant thrust before he withdrew himself. He whispered,
“That was fun, but we should continue this later.”
She pouted her lips, and couldn’t believe the timing of that hapless store attendant who cock-blocked her without meaning to. Tom smiled knowingly, and took out another handkerchief, diligently wiping away the fluids of her inner thigh, taking care to gently ease her out of the sexual frenzy that she had so blissfully enjoyed. In her mind she considered it an unbelievably unfair instance of coitus interruptus! But she wasn’t an animal, so she controlled her disappointment as a lady should.
Later, when they had picked out which of the garments she wanted for tomorrow, as well as the promised piece of jewellery, assuring her that they would finish what they had started in the dressing room after tomorrow’s musical, but not today as he had another appointment in the evening, something work related, and he didn’t want to rush something he enjoyed, namely her. To say she was irate was an understatement, but he consoled her by saying that delaying gratification usually made it better when it finally came. Perhaps it was because he was technically her sugar daddy, but she found it such a Dad thing to say that she couldn’t stay frustrated at him, and acquiesced. As a sop to her, when they passed by one of the various temporary stalls scattered across the shopping mall, they found a very androgynous looking young man who offered to draw sketches in real time, and promised all clients that if they weren’t happy, then they should get plastic surgery because his talent definitely wasn’t the problem. Impressed with such sass, they requested a sketch, and in a mere couple of minutes witnessed that the artist’s talents were not exaggerated- rather, they seemed to be downplayed! Normally haste diminishes quality, but Becky and Thomas could find no fault with the finished product, seeing as it was drawn in a webtoon style, and Tom not only paid for the sketch, but also ordered a framed colour version to be picked up at a later date. Grateful for both their recognition of his talents and their business (artists truly were not a well-fed bunch), he asked if they wanted any alterations done to the final picture. With mischief in his eyes, Tom cheekily asked,
“She’s pretty much perfect the way she is, but could you make her blonde?”
Becky raised her brow, and her retort matched his, but with far more bite,
“I know it’s hard, but could you also try to make him handsome?”
This caused the men to laugh uproariously, and the vendor joking lamented that while he was a genius artist, he wasn’t a miracle worker, but promised to try nonetheless. Tom dropped her off home soon after, and would not acquiesce to her suggestion that he stay a while, but the two were both looking forward to tomorrow, for multiple reasons.
The following evening, they went out to the theatre where Wicked was playing, and arrived quite a bit earlier to rendezvous with Tom’s friends, which comprised of two couples: Aofie and Lance, a straight couple, and Jim and Devon, a gay couple. They were all younger than him, as well as older than her, though Jim was the closest to Tom’s age, and it turned out that this outing was due to Jim’s love for this particular musical. While Tom enjoyed the arts, including musicals, his all-time favourite was undoubtedly The Phantom of the Opera, an Andrew Lloyd Webber masterpiece, but Wicked was Jim’s favourite, so they had organised to see it together: those plans eventually turned inot a group outing. Becky’s heart fluttered as he introduced her,
“Everyone, please say hello to Becky, the special girl I’ve been seeing for a while. I’m sure you’ve all been dying to meet her.”
He was being whimsical, but she felt pride in his words, because even though he hadn’t used to term ‘girlfriend’, he didn’t introduce her as just some random chick, and to make matters better, he had been talking about her to them! It was a validation that went a long way with her, especially as they were still in a limbo state regarding what they actually were. ‘Sweetly Professional’ just wouldn’t suffice any longer for Becky, and secretly she hoped that Tom felt the same way… Lance bluntly broke the ice, by jokingly asking her,
“So little girl, what grade are you in, and how much candy does Tom give you each week for your allowance?”
Everyone laughed, but Aofie reprimanded him,
“Lance! I’m sure she’s perfectly legal, aren’t you, dearie?” Widening her eyes and pretending to look innocent, Becky responded in a deliberately hammed-up juvenile tone,
“Uh, I’m over eighteen. Well, that’s what Tom tells me to say, but he has asked me if I could pretend to be twelve, just for him, I’m just not supposed to say anything to others. Did I do good, daddy?” She again looked innocently over to Tom, who raised his eyebrows, mouth agape, as if to suggest she would need a good spanking later. Lance continued,
“Twelve hey? That’s a new high for Tom, we’re making progress, team!”
Everyone, especially Tom, laughed even harder as Becky played along with the premise that Tom had certain tendencies when it came to dating. They all agreed that Becky was a perfect comedic match for him; he had an unfortunate reputation for dating underage girls, all due to a misunderstanding back when he was twenty-four, which was close to Becky’s current age. It really served to grant her swift and easy acceptance into the group.
They chatted for a bit, getting to know each other before the film. Jim and Lance, both Caucasian males, were Tom’s old friends, and shared a similar sense of humour to their rather white non-white friend, which was almost expected as birds of a feather flock together, and those three could have been archetypical athletic specimens across the soma-typical spectrum. Lance was a hulking, bearded young man who resembled the love child of a bear and a lumberjack. Jim was a lanky, sinewy guy with strikingly sharp muscle definition, especially in his face. And then there was her Tom, a cross in-between the other two with his broad shoulders and V-shaped mesomorphic figure, though had the softest looking face despite the most pronounced jawline fo the three. Devon, Jim’s partner, was Asian, tall with a gentle scholarly air as well as very dextrous looking hands/fingers, while Aofie, Lance’s ‘handler’, a vivacious lass with fiery auburn hair and thighs that could match Tasha’s in thiccness, displayed a rather matronly demeanour until she smiled, which revealed to Becky that she actually was a very affectionate soul.
Lance worked as a junior engineer for a civil engineering firm, while Jim was recently graduated and trying to get into forensics. He and Devon, who was a dentist, had been together for a few years, while Aofie actually worked with Devon as a dental hygienist/nurse, and had met Lance when he, Tom, and Jim surprised Devon at work one time. Aofie was immediately taken in by Lance’s bold swagger and provocative demeanour, and he was smitten with her ability to handle his caustic remarks. As was typical, they liked each other immediately but played it cool for a while, until he dropped the machismo and they started having real conversations/interaction, now having been together for about two months. Jim initially struck Becky as a particularly closed-up and repressed individual, mild mannered and not the best swimmer in social situations. But as Devon and Tom drew him out of his shell, she began to see what a very upstanding and fun-loving person he could be, under the right circumstances, in the right crowd. Especially regarding tonight’s attraction!
“Wicked is absolutely my favourite musical- there’s just so many dimensions to enjoy it from! My parents used to take me to see it every time it was around, when we could afford it, because they knew how much it meant to me.” Jim passionately relayed his personal enamorment of the musical/play, getting rather carried away. Jokingly, Devon and Tom brought his attentions back to the room by having the dentist playfully stroke Tom’s biceps, remarking upon how big they were getting. That immediately caused Jim to stop mid rant, and indignantly declare,
“How dare you two! So brazenly! To my face! And in public too!”
Everyone, including Jim, had a good laugh about it, and Becky could see that they had a group dynamic which allowed for blunted teasing, a healthy sign of deep bonds, much like she had with Tasha. Aofie expressed how glad she was that they had another girl in the group, and that she absolutely loved Becky’s neckless.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Swarovski crystal?”
“Yes, it is! You have a good eye for quality. Um, do you own anything from them?”
“Oh no, I’m more of a Pandora charm bracelet girl, though I wouldn’t say no, hint hint,” she answered, looking suggestively to Lance. He just shook his head, and evenly reminded her,
“You already have too much jewellery. Besides, you said that you’d rather invest in the horse parades: you and Buttermilk need a new matching wardrobe, remember?”
“Oh, I guess you’re right.” Aofie sounded disappointed, but picked up again when Becky asked her to tell her more about this horse hobby, as well her horse Buttermilk, named so after his creamy colouring. It was quite fascinating, especially when Aofie explained that it was essentially pageantry, but with equines, and elaborated on her tips and tricks until Lance interrupted her,
“Please dear, we’re finally at an event together with Tom and this mysterious new girl he’s been smitten with, and you make the conversation about horses! Let’s hear more about her, ‘kay?” Becky filed away Lance’s comment for latter- smitten!? That was juicy news to analyse over with Tasha sometime. In defence of Aofie, Becky quickly interjected,
“Oh, no, I really was enjoying that conversation about horse parades!” Touching her shoulder, Aofie smiled and said,
“Oh you’re such a sweetie, but Lance is right- he’s always right… but what do you do, Becky? Surely you’ve got a keen mind under that pretty face of your- Tom doesn’t do well with bimbos, I’ve seen them try to hit on him before, and it never ends well.” Interesting, more information for Becky to file away for later, but feeling rather put on the spot, she thought about what to say, and stammered,
“Um, I dunno what Tom’s said about me, but- uh, I’m doing post-grad. In abnormal sociology. And I work at a café near the city centre!” She was flustered, trying to think of something to sound as cool as these people, but Aofie reassured her that they didn’t know very much about her, just that Tom had been acting like he finally found a nice girl to end his bachelor ways.
“Tonight was going to be our big debut to get introduced to you! But hey, Tom is the right person to date if you’re studying abnormal psychology, right?! How did you two meet again? Tom just said it was fate or something. Tinder is nothing to be ashamed of, by the way!”
Becky blushed, as the real unaltered truth was not something she could share, especially to make a desirable first impression, but Tom smiled and nodded to her, indicating she could tell them anything and he would corroborate. In the end, she decided to give a PG rated version of how they had gotten together.
“Oh, well, not quite as romantic as Tinder, but when I was doing my under-grad yeara go, I stumbled into one of Tom’s philosophy talks. He was great, so I talked to him afterwards, and we had coffee at a café before he had to go, and I needed to head to baseball practice too. That was almost three years ago, and then, just weeks after I broke up with my ex (who’s a cheating scumbag!) I ran into Tom again, and yeah, I guess you could say we’ve been a very sweet arrangement since then.”
Aofie was taken to a fanciful bout of wistfulness, remarking on how Disney that was, almost like a fairy tale. Lance, however, looked at Becky shrewdly, and mulled over her words, before saying something that terrified her,
“Wait a minute, something about your story doesn’t seem to add up. You’re leaving out something important, aren’t you?”
Her heart skipped a beat as everyone stared at him, and Tom subtly leaned a little closer to her, which gave her some comfort, before Lance continued triumphantly,
“I know what it is! Three years ago… baseball practice… you met him after one of his talks- you’re the Muffin Chick!”
Becky breathed a sigh of relief, and Jim chimed in,
“Oh yeah! I remember, Orlando told us too: you’re the girl who he bought like, every muffin in the display cabinet for, right?”
Tom interjected at that point,
“Do you know what’s ironic? According to her friends, I’m the Muffin Man, can you believe that?! Do you know the Muffin Man?” Each one of them chimed in,
“The Muffin Man?!”
“The Muffin Man!”
“Yes, we know the Muffin Man, the one who lives on Drury Lane?”
“Well, she’s married to the Muffin Man.” (this line was aimed at Becky, who blushed ever so adorably)
“The Muffin Man?!”
“The Muffin Man!!!”
“Hahaha, we’re all such dorks!”
They all continued talking about such random topics until it was time to take their seats for the production.
Chapter 14: Musicals don’t make you gay, unless you’re Jim.
“Wow, that was simply fantastic. Wickedly so!”
They were in the foyer, ordering some drinks, which the two straight guys both fought to pay for until everyone just agreed to get their own- that said, Tom, Lance, and Devon got drinks for their partners. When the orders were ready, they went over to the lounge chairs in order to discuss the play. As Jim was regarded as the de facto expert on this production, and could recite every single line, as well as the lyrics of each song, they often deferred back to his opinion. His overall thoughts were,
“Well, this play’s lead is no Idina Menzel, the original Elphaba, but she was spectacular all the same. I really enjoyed the fact that the performers aren’t trying to mimic the style of the originals: they are definitely giving it their all in a way that showcases their own respective talents, and I respect them for that.”
“Yeah, I can respect that too, having read the source material. Even if Wicked is basically fan-fiction, I like that they’ve made their own mark, and not tried to ride off the success of Baum’s The Wizard of Oz. Which was the first true American fantasy series, you know.” Typical Tom, with his seemingly endless trivia. At this, Jim exclaimed,
“Wait a minute Tom, the Wizard of Oz has a sequel!?”
“Sequels, but don’t watch or read them, unless you want to induce fever dreams, Jim. Wicked, the play, is something more in tune with the colourful and magical world of that Wizard of Oz movie we’ve all seen, you know, the one partly in black and white?” Leaving the revelation aside, Jim agreed,
“Yep. But I love Wicked because it was the first musical I ever saw with drama that wasn’t cringy, a love story that didn’t hinder the plot, and unlike a lot of other shows, all of the main characters are interesting, and can garner my sympathies. A very solid musical to be sure!”
“Do you see yourself as any particular character?” Becky asked him, because she was drawn to how much the film resonated with him.
“Well, if we’re being honest, I’ve often felt like Elphaba, because I’ve known what it’s like to be an outcast for most of my life. Especially when I realised I was gay. In fact, I think of how she managed to overcome her struggles, and yeah, I’d be willing to say that it gave me a lot of courage to be honest about myself.”
“So what you’re saying is that Wicked turned you gay?” It was not unusual, Becky noticed, for Lance to make blunt statements that often carried a pivotal point, but Jim took it in good stride,
“No, I was always gay, I just didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t closely know anyone else who was too, so I guess I was just super repressed about it. You could say I was so in the closet that I was in Narnia!” Every laughed at Jim’s witty reference, but the conversation had taken a weightier tone, and the humour didn’t detract from that, but rather aided the conversation. Aofie remarked,
“Ah, yes, well I think that maybe we can read into Elphaba and Glinda secretly having a homoerotic subtext, wouldn’t you agree?”
Jim concurred, jokingly, and said that it wouldn’t change the story even if they did, which is what he loved about the characters. He then mentioned that being gay shouldn’t be the defining characteristic of anybody, because that would reduce them to a one-dimensional caricature. It was an important part of identity, but the moment it became the only part of one’s identity meant that there was now a different problem. Becky told them about Professor Jaime’s lecture, reiterating certain points, and asking them their opinions on what makes up their views on promiscuity. Lance said that to avoid the label of promiscuity the girl simply need not be a slut, which Aofie countered by asking him why it didn’t also apply to men, and Devon reminded them that it was bandied around the gay community quite regularly. It was Tom who pointed out that the term was seemingly fluid, but only held its normal definitions under the context of unspoken societal rules, elaborating that,
“Sure, we could make reductionist claims that promiscuity is linked to a typically perceived male sex drive, and that a promiscuous woman is simply one with said male sex drive, so why doesn’t it apply to straight males? Could it be because straight males determine the standard that all must conform to? Afterall, it’s normal for a man to have a male sex drive, but perhaps women and gay men are simply ‘not part of the club’, so there are different rules.” Most of the others seemed to acknowledge this statement, but Tom had more to say,
“Well, we could take that stance, and it is somewhat applicable, but then again, that would just be shifting blame onto a scapegoat, which in this day and age often happens to be straight white males- sorry Lance.”
“I don’t care, I’d take on anyone who tried to make me a scape goat, and I’d turn them into a sacrificial lamb.”
“Hah, yeah you would easily slaughter them man! But my point is that it’s lazy reasoning to simply blame another, or scapegoat them, because the fundamental problems aren’t about who’s to blames, but the fact that people don’t understand them enough to truly fix the issue.”
“So, what is the underlying issue with promiscuity, Professor Tom?” Becky listened as Tom continued, and made a point similar to what Professor Jaime had said at the end of her lecture.
“Well, let’s think about this from a non-gendered perspective, as much as possible, and ask ourselves something: promiscuity is basically people having more sex with other people in a way that isn’t expressly permitted, correct? But why then should women and gay men be the chief targets of the word, when used in the pejorative- that is to say, negatively? In my humble opinion and reasoning, I say it’s because it easier for women and gay men to get more sex if they wanted it, are you following me? That means that it’s harder to regulate this kind of behaviour.” Around the group his point gradually dawned on them, and Devon enquired,
‘Hang on, are you saying that promiscuity is a word that originates from the status quo being possessive? Maybe even jealous? You just blew my frickin’ mind!”
“Let me clarify: I am a philosopher, so I say nothing for certain, because I know nothing to be certain, but it does seem to me that if this were a free market situation, then the value of sex as a commodity is almost always geared towards those who can attract more demand, and I think we can all agree that while a woman can offer a straight man sex in exchange for services, a straight man offering to sleep with a woman in exchange for goods or services would just come across as bizarre. It happens, but still!”
“World’s oldest profession right, Tom?” Lance echoed a common idiom regarding prostitution.
“You and I know it, right buddy?”, Tom replied with a wink. Jim offered his own perspectives,
“I do agree that you’ve made a good point about how readily available sex is perceived to be for those groups, but I still don’t think that it excuses the stigma of promiscuity on said groups. Being a ‘slut’, per se, should be a term that applies to any individual evenly, because it’s still the same behaviour no matter who you are, right?”
“Oh, rest assured that I don’t condemn free love, Jim; I don’t exactly condone promiscuity in extremes either, for personal reasons, but that’s off topic. Speaking on topic, I want to quote my favourite scientist, Einstein, by saying that if you judge a fish’s intelligence by its ability to climb trees, it will spend the rest of its life believing it is stupid, or something along those lines. If a guy compared the quantity of his Tinder matches with a girl’s, he would be comparatively undesirable. There are varying degrees of how easily one can obtain sex, but looking at the data across the board, would you say that, in general, it is easier for women and gay men to get sex if they wanted it, and weren’t particularly selective about who they did it with?”
It was Aofie who spoke next, agreeing with Tom.
“Yeah, the quality aside, I think that girls receive a lot more male attention even when they are still fairly young, and I know that I can choose to be in relationships a lot easier than my guy friends. If I was single of course, honey,” she said, looking over to Lance who smiled and wrapped his arms around her. It was both a flex upon her own attractiveness, and a reminder to Lance, who boldly declared,
“Yes, but you’re all mine now, and if someone wants you, then they’d have to fight me!”
At that point Tom became more flippant and the mood changed, which somewhat disappointed Becky as she was enjoying having a serious intellectual conversation, as it told her more about the real Tom instead of that mask he always wore to try and blend in. He pretended to be shocked at what they said, exclaiming,
“Hey, come on, don’t be like that! I’ve always believed that we could pull off a successful three-way if we wanted to, am I right?”
Aofie looked amused, and declined his generous offer, stating that she didn’t share her men with anyone.
“Oh, come on Aofie, there’s literally plenty of him to go around!”
“Hey, are you calling me fat?”, Lance said, mockingly. Everyone had a good laugh, even Lance, who then changed the trajectory of the conversation,
“This lecture on promiscuity was a pretty roundabout way for you to bring up your eagerness for group sex, Tom. But it’s kinda unfair on Devon and Jim, isn’t it?”
“Nah, I think we are comfortable enough in our sexuality to explore all possibilities, right guys?” Tom now included the other two guys into their facetious hypothetical conversation. Jim looked shocked at the idea, but Devon played along,
“Oh yeah Tom, I think that as we’re all friends, it could be a great group building exercise. Good on you, for taking one for the team!”
All the guys, except for Jim, laughed uproariously, but each of them knew it was all in good fun. Aofie took this opportunity to visit the restroom, and Becky accompanied her,
“We’ll be back soon boys; we know when we’re not needed,” she told them with a wink, and the two disappeared around the corner where the restrooms were located.
“Boys will be boys, am I right, Becky?”
“Hah, yeah, but it’s kinda cute, especially because when they try to act oh so manly, right?”
“You said it! Hah!”
The line wasn’t very long, but it was there, which is a staple feature of public events: Becky remembered how a very strongly feminist friend of hers told the group that public bathrooms were inherently sexist in design and execution. Maybe she was right, but she would rather there be toilets at all, instead of just using bushes, which would be even more sexist in her mind considering it was still easier for guys, but much harder for ladies. Aofie remarked on her necklace again, and Becky revealed that it was courtesy of Tom, for winning a game of sorts (without going into details of that game, of course). As they chatted, Aofie became particularly curious about her age and her situation with Tom. Becky admitted that he was very caring and looked after her needs, but had so far avoided giving them an official status. Aofie tutted, shaking her head, muttering,
“Ugh, it’s so typical of a guy to fear commitment! You’re practically dating, so why not just become an official couple?” Defending him on instinct, Becky said,
“He has his reasons, which I am trying to be supportive of, but lately I have found myself wanting more. It’s just that I don’t know if I should bring it up, because I don’t want to make it weird- we actually have a great thing going on right now, which I would really hate to ruin.”
“Ah okay, you know what you’re doing, but I would totally go for it! No risk, no reward, right?”
“I guess.” Beck pondered over the ramification of trying to alter the terms of their sweetly professional arrangement, before Aofie continued,
“I can tell he likes you though, he seemed almost protective of you when my boyfriend was grilling you about how you two met. You know, Lance used to joke that we never saw any of the girls he dated because they were too young and had a curfew for school nights, stuff we joked about before you were in the picture. Dark, I know, and I didn’t buy it, but I have never seen Tommy with a girl. I used to think he was secretly gay, or a virgin, but you don’t seem like the kind of girl who doesn’t enjoy a good romp in the hay- I hope you’re not too uncomfortable talking about this?” The virgin remark had made Becky give away a knowing smile,
“Nah, it’s all good, I know a bit about his situation, and why he hasn’t dated anyone. He’s definitely not a virgin, not anymore anyway, and I am pretty confident he wasn’t when I met him.”
“Oooooh, care to share?” Aofie seemed to have less inherent barriers about conversation, at least when it was just the girls involved, and Becky politely declined,
“Uh, not really. I don’t think he’d like that.”
“Awww, come on! He always wears that mask, and while he likes to joke about this kinda thing with us, he never shares. So when he told us, finally, that he was seeing someone regularly, we were overjoyed! Just tell me one thing- he hasn’t got tentacles or anything like that down there, right?”
Becky nervously grinned at Aofie, who seemed somewhat serious about that question.
“… no, I’m pretty happy with his equipment… does Lance have a… weird dick, or something?” With a laugh, Aofie replied,
“Oh honey, all dicks are weird, but we can’t say anything to the fellas because they get so sensitive about that stuff!” Feeling a bit more comfortable again, Becky agreed,
“Hah, amen to that!”
“But, on that topic, I will say that I’m quite happy with Lance- he’s like a rough stallion, in more than just personality, if you get my drift. A shame that it overinflates his ego, so I’m trying to get him to work a little more on his foreplay, you know? Maybe it’s hard when you’ve got that much blood being diverted away from the brain?”
They both smiled knowingly, because it was a common enough occurrence with larger guys to rely on their size instead of actual love making skills. This conversation was coincidentally being mirrored with the guys.
“So, Tom, tell us, now that it’s just the men here, have you done it with her yet?” Lance threw it out there to the group. Jim looked a little uncomfortable, Devon was politely interested, and Tom simply smiled mysteriously for a moment before he answered,
“A real gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. So, I cannot discuss the matter further.”
“That is technically tantamount to a ‘yes’ though, isn’t it? Agreement via omission!” Devon was being delightfully accusatory, and correct, technically.
“Haha, yeah guys, don’t worry, we have no problems in that department. You’ve seen her, so if I wasn’t hitting that then maybe there is something sexually wrong with me. Maybe I’ve been gay all along, right?” He was being sardonic, and the others were accustomed to it. Devon refuted that premise,
“Nah, I can usually pick those guys, and I knew you weren’t gay when Jim introduced you to me, but I do admit I wasn’t sure how ‘straight’ you were. I mean, I assumed you weren’t ace, or bi?”
“What, bisexual, the most hated group out there in the LGBQT+ etc community? No, I can commit (joking!) so I know I’m very straight. I may be something of a demisexual though, you know, I need to form a strong bond to have sex with someone?”
“Do you like Becky, Tom? In a serious way.” Jim was more comfortable discussing the less explicit and more intellectual side of this conversation.
“Yeah, I am extremely fond of her company, and to be fair, it’s helping me with getting over Naomi more fully. Hmm, does that make me a bad person, guys?” After reassuring him that he was generally a good person, Jim enquired further.
“It would depend on whether or not you’re just using her to get over someone. Does she know much about Naomi?”
“Rest assured ‘Mr Ethics’, that she was well aware of it before we stepped into a relationship. I don’t know what to define us as, but I just- I just know that I like her in a way I haven’t liked any girl, even though it feels different to how I felt for Naomi. But if we are being honest here, I think that being in love with Naomi was easier for me, because it was unreciprocated, therefore I didn’t feel any pressure to do something about it, for the most part. It let me pursue my spiritual cultivation as well as indulge my emotional side, the part that wanted a meaningful connection with a girl. Now, I have a real person to interact with, instead of just an idea of one, so I’m a little anxious about how I’m going to mess it up.” Tom mused over the surface of his complicated relationship with Becky.
“Well, if you’re honest with her, then she can make her own informed decisions, right?” This was Lance being practical as usual.
“Possibly… A part of me thought that she was just going to rebound with me, and it wouldn’t amount to anything significant, but as it turns out, we have enough common interests as well as differences in our own life experiences to make spending time with her so fulfilling. We can mutually engage on the same platforms, as well as share contrasting experiences that help us grow. And yes, Lance, the sex is super hot: her, uh, appetite, really is a fascinating aspect to interact with, speaking as someone who spent most of their twenties voluntarily celibate. I’m sorry Jim, was that too much information for your delicate senses?”
“Hah, no, it’s okay, I’m glad that you’re happy. I mean, you haven’t dated anyone since I’ve known you, even though a lot of people used to hit on you, and had crushes on you.” Jim knew this firsthand, as girls used to enquire about Tom’s availability via his gay best friend Jim, and it was a little irritating after a while.
“I recall you telling me that Jim, and I’m sorry that you had to be the one that they approached to talk about that. They treated you like such a gay friend, how insulting!” The mock verbal jab was actually meant to let Jim know that Tom really was sorry that he had to deal with that on his behalf, and Jim was accustomed to it to not take any offense.
“It’s okay, it’s just that a lot of us were concerned for you, that’s all. You also close up about things, so on those rare moments you choose to open up about your life, we appreciate it.”
“Hey, come on guys, let’s not be so down! We watched Wicked together, and we’re out with our partners in the first time since I got back from the desert! Let’s keep things upbeat, and talk about how the Crown Virus is mutating! We could probably survive the apocalypse together, right?” Tom noticed the girls had almost returned, seeing them approach from the distance, and chnaged the topic just in time for them to join this part of the conversation.
“What’s this about an apocalypse? What did you boys do?” Aofie was being matronly again, bemused, but in a playful manner. Lance answered her in kind, the two challenging each other.
“You know, we were discussing how we might have to rebuild society considering the global situation, but I think between the four of us, we could do it. You girls can just sit back and let the men do all the real work.” Aofie took offense at lance’s suggestion, and defiantly declared,
“Excuse me! I’ll have you know that anything a man can do; a woman can do better!” Not to be cowed, Lance responded in kind,
“Really? Excuse me while we kill a wild animal for food, and then erect a shelter made of heavy construction material! You know, something that won’t have us freezing when the sun goes down?!”
The two were continuing this as the group made a move, walking to the McDonalds across the road. It was a new one that had just opened recently, and as a result the building had fresh vibes, the tables were cleaned, and the staff, mainly teens, were still alert and attentive in their customer service. Tom remarked that it was so cute, and it felt like they were taking this restaurant’s virginity on some metaphorical level. Aofie and Lance were getting rather heated up, but Tom had told Becky, privately as they were walking there, that it was just a form of foreplay for them, and the two would probably furiously fuck upon returning home. It seemed that Aofie was kinkier than Becky gave her credit for, as she wondered who dominated who in the bedroom.
Eventually the argument dissipated, with both sides agreeing that at the end of the day, a useful person was essential to rebuilding society, regardless of gender, and everybody had a part to play in such circumstances. It was a good compromise to end on, as the group finished eating and parted ways, and she went back to Tom’s place to spend the night: she had not forgotten what they had started in the changerooms yesterday.
Tonight, they both explored each other with a slower, more deliberate pace, as she got undressed, and he watched as she revealed the lacy fuchsia-pink lingerie she had chosen just for him, which Tasha agreed should drive any normal man over the edge. But Tom wasn’t exactly normal, and she knew that he had to be teased and enticed before he would give himself over to her, so she had demanded they recreate the same scenario from yesterday. Slipping into the special underwear, which she had cleaned thoroughly from yesterday, she watched as he grinned at her, switching it on, and observed as her body began to writhe uncontrollably, enjoying the control he had over her. Although it felt different not being stimulated in public, that dimension was now replaced by the privacy offered in his home, one that allowed her to discard the last of her inhibitions. The fact that her man couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he drank in her loveliness was hotter than the unknowing gazes of people in public.
Tom’s game of choice tonight was Truth or Dare, which would end when either of them couldn’t take it anymore: she was to keep the toy on at a medium setting so as to not be too distracting, and with that, the game began. However, it was mostly just a series of challenges instead of how the game was traditionally played.
He first dared her to strut like a runway model, which she did with triumph, tossing back her hair with all the confidence of a runway girl. After completion, she dared him to give her a hickey on her chest, and he choose his favourite boob: he picked the left, leaving a mark above her heart. When she failed at pretending to be a statue for thirty seconds, largely because she was distracted by what was between her legs, she challenged him to remove her bra with his teeth, and was thrilled when his breathing became noticeably more pronounced: she then told him to remover her special panties too, as she didn’t need them anymore. Seeing that she was upping the ante, he challenged her to take a ten second cold shower, which she managed. The cold water had caused her nipples to become extra perky, and her next dare was for him to dry her without using a towel to absorb the water. In her mind, she wanted to see his hands contour along her body, to hug him and have his clothes soak up the moisture, but she didn’t expect him to send his tongue to work too, starting with her back, leaving tingles everywhere he went. When her limbs, chest, and back were mostly dried, he looked at her expectantly, but she coyly remarked that there was still a part of her that was wet, and getting wetter.
“And I get the feeling that no matter how much you try your little trick, this area isn’t going to stay dry, Tom. So you lose!”
Realising what she meant, he smiled devilishly, and still accepted the challenge. With a sweeping move that seemed suspiciously well practiced, he wrapped her upper body with a towel [under her arms], and hoisted her up into the air with his arms, lifting her legs over his shoulders, forcing her to employ core strength to stay upright. He leaned her against the wall for additional support. Then, her eyes rolled back as his tongue got to work, and he spent the next few minutes sucking, licking, and rubbing against her lady parts with his tongue, before he stopped to surface for air. They must have made a spectacular sight as he moved to his bedroom, herself still suspended in the air, and dropped her on to the bed, her legs still around his head, and he kissed her down there, softly, before disengaging. She was quite breathless too, so they were silent for the next few moments, before she said,
“Okay, Truth now, where did you learn to give a girl head like that?” It wasn’t the best she had ever received, and she didn’t climax, but it was a damn good effort for a guy, and she was curious how he could have provided her that without some kind of experience. He just gave a short laugh, and revealed,
“It’s because I play the harmonica. It’s the dirtiest instrument you’d ever learn to play, because it involves techniques called sucking, blowing, tonguing, licking, bending, and fingering, as well as the ability to lose yourself in the moment, which is what I imagine I was doing just now. Of course, there’s another reason I picked it as my instrument of choice.”
“And what’s that?” She was curious, and pleased to find out something new about him in such an explicit manner. But he was done sharing, and reminded her that his turn was overdue. As they were already in bed, they decided to stay there as her kissed her inner thigh, and he asked her,
“Truth, as well: do you ever imagine what our kids would look like, and would they be cute?”
He continued to kiss her inner thigh, and she thought about it. Yes, she had thought about it before, but that was just something a lot of girls did with the guys they liked, and she was not so different. In her mind, their kids would be very cute, as all mixed children tended to be, but she never visualised their faces properly. However, in this very moment, she could picture their faces, a son and daughter with an amalgam of his and her features, and she realised that he had asked her about a potential future together, and what that might imply.
“I imagine that they would be the most beautiful creatures on this earth, because they’d be ours. Not just because they’d be Wasian!” She would have liked to continue this conversation, but his tone became more playful, as he responded with,
“Oooh, do you like the idea of me being a daddy?”
It flipped a switch in her mind, and instead of thinking about the future, she was only concerned about her current needs and wants. Scuttling back to make space for him on the bed, she grabbed her phone that she had left on the drawers next to his bed, and put on the Zombie’s song, Time of the Season. She beckoned him over, and whispered to him, as the intro played those funky tunes,
“Why don’t you ‘come’ and find out, daddy.”
Perhaps it would be weird for older generations to discover how sexualised that word had become, but the two didn’t think too much about the nuances of semantic drift as she removed the rest of his clothes, and straddled him, slowly, then with more fervor.
Author Here: More censorship! Yeah, everyone gets sex. Except you, probably… jk, I’m sure you get what you deserve! 😀
Chapter 15: Sexercise and Favourite Flicks
Becky was more than a little afraid of what Tom was going to do to her- she was keen on trying new things, but as always, the apprehension of possibly getting hurt threatened to ruin the experience. She almost had second thoughts agreeing to this, but her natural adventurousness, and determination, pushed her to continue. Her eyes widened when she saw him pick up the wooden rod, and he motioned for her to get lower.
“Straighten your back, young lady, you’re too far forwards, and this isn’t the bedroom! If you’re doing this, we should do it properly.” His mock sternness was undermined by a small grin as she processed how she must look in this position. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but she managed to do as he instructed, and maintained a fairly straight back while in this awkward squatting position. Her chest was heaving, and her thighs were feeling the strain, but she gritted her teeth and continued as he watched her, no doubt enjoying her discomfort. He placed the pole across her thighs, which were bent parallel to the ground
“Breathe, hime (princess), remember, tension is what you think you should be, relaxation is what you are. Beautiful, that’s it, keep it up, don’t let it roll off!”
This all started about two weeks ago, when she and Tasha went to a boxercise circuit to try and tone up. It was mainly for Tasha, who had been gaining an extra couple of pounds, and was horrified to discovered that the lines between thicc and thick were becoming ever so blurred. The two had signed up for a couple of different high intensity classes, such as boxercise, Tae Bo, and Zumba, which should alleviate, if not outright address, the problem. It had been fun, and the work outs were helping, but when she had come around to Tom’s, and absent-mindedly started punching the air, he very kindly pointed out a few things to her about her footwork, her hand positions, and most importantly, that thumbs should never be tucked inside a clenched fist, or otherwise sticking out from the sides. He then demonstrated some shadow boxing, and she was blown away by the compact movements produced by that well oil machine he called his body, especially as he really got into the demonstration, and she felt him generate a virtual hurricane with his flurry of blows. She praised him, and she saw how much it made him happy to give her advice, so she requested some one-on-one training sessions.
It was something of a challenge for him, as he had to show her how to unlearn her bad habits, and he also incorporated various exercises that were very different to what she had seen, but for the past week she had been improving at a rapid pace as he taught her lower body condition, correct techniques, and employed a lot of mental focus that was quite lacking at the other classes. However, the results had been worth it, and while she would never consider herself a trained fighter, she was reaping the benefits of his tutelage as her muscle tone shifted noticeably. Especially her ass/thighs, which were making Tasha grumble that genetics were unfair; Becky had been keeping her training with Tom a secret. Today they were in the park, and he was teaching her something called internal martial arts: she was practicing a steeper stance to help her with weight shifting and rooted stability.
“I’m so proud of you, my sweaty princess, and you should be proud of yourself too! I’ve had a few private students, but you pick it up quicker than most of them.”
“Maybe you’re just a better teacher than you give yourself credit for?”
He simply laughed, and denied it, before telling her of the best student he ever had.
“His name is Jake, and I’ve passed some pointers to him over the years, since we met under similar circumstances to you and I- relax, I meant he attended one of my lectures! Though if he wanted to be an escort, he probably could, being tall and handsome with great artistic talent and powerful martial arts. In fact, I even ran into him when I first travelled to Japan! He practices aikido, mostly, but I think it would be fair to say that I offered him some useful things to add to his repertoire; he’s such a wholesome fellow that he calls me his shifu (master), which I am not really, of course. In terms of speed, power, edge, and dedication, he’s much better than a lazy old scholar such as myself. I think he can even do thumb push ups now. On one hand!”
“Whoa! Can I meet him sometime?” She was curious to meet someone who received such high praise from Tom, who seemed an excellent teacher already, but he revealed that it was unlikely.
“No, Jake is teaching English in Japan, like you did, and he’s loving it so much that he doubts he’d ever return. He can get rather possessive though, so you may have to fight him if he discovers that I’ve decided to take you on as another student, which I haven’t thus far! We’re just doing some training so that you can get the most out of your fitness classes.” He was half joking, but a part of her knew that he was right about her not being as interested in this kind of thing, long term anyway.
‘Please don’t make me fight him, I’d cry!” Becky was playing around, though Tom quite candidly told her that Jake was merciless and wouldn’t be bothered by her tears: equal opportunity, right? However, her heart fluttered when he told her that he would still protect her, even if he said it flippantly to match her tone. Foregoing all propriety between a master and his disciple, which they were not, she gave up on the stance and leapt into his arms. He caught her easily, as she wrapped her legs around him, and they shared a deep kiss.
“My word, these are getting firm, aren’t they?”, he said as he teasingly groped her thighs and ass. She mirrored his tone, slapped his chest, and reprimanded him for being so open about his admiration, to which he replied,
“A man can appreciate such assets, can’t he? It’s not like I do it to anyone else.”
“You have such a way with words, Tom. But if you wanted to check out my goods, why didn’t you say so?”
As no one was around, she began to whisper seductively in his ear as she straddled him, and to her amusement he balked at how she was turning him on, in public!
“Hey, stop that, we’re meant to be training right now!”
“What do you mean, master, I’m just exercising my core, right?” She pretended to be innocent, but her coy tones revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
“You little minx,” he said quietly, clearly amused by her antics, and he tried to turn the tables by massaging her butt, squeezing them deeply, and eliciting a gasp from Becky as she felt the new sensations ripple through her body. She had developed quite a bit of muscle soreness from the last couple of days they had been working out, but now that discomfort was intermingled with pleasure as he fondled her, and she began to lick his neck suggestively. It was quite the mood being established, but being lewd in public always carries the risk of being discovered, which was exciting, but Tom desisted once they heard some people making their way nearby. Becky tried to spur him on, but he said that he needed a moment to cool down.
“It’s fine for you, young lady, but I can’t exactly walk around like this in public, can I?” He gestured to his crotch, and she realised that his sports shorts had developed a very pronounced bulge.
“Awww, can’t you just turn it off or something?”
“What? No, a boner has a mind if its own, it’s a common nightmare for most guys in high school to get one randomly! I’m a grown man, and I still get anxious when I have to walk around with one of these… and this time, it’s your fault!”
She giggled as it was so cute when he pretended to get mad at her. To finish off the training, he took them through some tai chi movements, which solved his current predicament as he began to calm down, so to speak. He then dropped her off back home, where she showered, taking a little more time than usual as she scrubbed her body with lathery suds, all the while thinking of him.
Over the next week, when she and Tasha returned to the fitness classes, something felt strange: her body was very coordinated, and her muscle memory seemed to have kicked in as she went through the circuits of their respective classes. But even the boot camp, which had seemed challenging previously, was missing a particular quality that she craved. And even though it may not be fair, she kept comparing the instructors to her Tom, who was so knowledgeable, firm, and diligent, but also gentle and responsive to her needs- this was easier done one on one than in a group setting, and the superior quality of his training was apparent to the class instructors. Even when they gave her tips, it felt so rough and incompatible to what she was feeling, and what she had done with him; she almost felt as if she was cheating on Tom. So, she ended her week of training feeling rather unsatisfied, though Tasha had managed to have a good time, getting numbers from a few of the guys, and was coming into her own stride with the movements.
On the weekend she went around to Tom’s place, and let herself in: he had given her a key, and told her that she could visit anytime, at any hour. The place was a little messy, as he had been involved with some sort of crafting project in his study, which she hadn’t been allowed in, and as he wasn’t home, she decided to clean up a little bit, imagining what it would be like if she were a housewife- his housewife. She was so distracted by the fantasy that she almost didn’t hear him come in, and in a pleasantly surprised voice he called out to her,
‘Is that you Becky?”
She went to the living room to greet him, hug him, and they shared a tender kiss.
“Wow, you kissed me like you really missed me, AND you’re cleaning up my place? I would be suspicious if you were any other girl.”
She pretended to get offended,
“Oh, and you have other girls come around here, do you?”
“Hah, please, girls don’t just come around to my place. But speaking of which, what brings you over today? I didn’t get any messages from you, did something happen?”
She explained that it wasn’t anything, but she had just gone through a week of training at her gym, with Tasha, and the whole experience just felt off somehow.
‘You know, I think after all the time we spent together, you’ve ruined me for other trainers!”
“Wait, don’t you mean I’ve ruined other trainers for you? Oh, I get it, ruined you, hah, that’s clever!”
“Yeah, I am so smart, aren’t I? But listen, if it’s not too much trouble, could you continue to train me? I’ll pay you of course.”
‘What? Nonsense, how dare you offer me money: what am I, some common, street-level personal trainer?!” He was mockingly outraged, but then grinned and told her that he would be thrilled to continue her training, because she was a very promising student, and they would arrange to meet at her gym twice a week to use the facilities. It was even better than she had imagined, because now they would incorporate work-out dates! But still, she couldn’t just have him do all this for her without some form of payment, and she told him that she would think of some way to compensate him, which he just brushed off as unnecessary.
As she was already in her work out gear, he got changed and they walked to the park nearby to do some training, which hit all the right spots for her as he took her through various forms of conditioning and even showed her some ways to take down opponents- she had even managed to trip him, though she suspected he was going easy on her during the exercise, which he denied of course. Afterward, all sweaty and full of endorphins, they went back to his place to freshen up before dinner together. Once again, she was thinking about him in a particular way as she lathered her body with the soapy scrub, but realising how redundant that was as he was just in the next room, an idea began to form in her mind. She turned off the shower, made some preparations, and called out to him,
‘Tom, can you come in here?!”
He entered the bathroom, and saw that she had drawn a bath, as she was looking at him with a strange grin on her face. He didn’t have a chance to ask her what was going on before she started to strip him naked, and pushed him towards the bath. When he was in, she explained herself,
“In exchange for your private lessons, I’m going to bathe you after we work up a sweat. Please relax, and let me take care of you, master.”
He was taken aback, but curiously amused, by how deferential she was acting, as she scrubbed and rubbed his body with hers; his bathtub wasn’t that large, but it could fit them both if they worked with the spacing, and she was pleased to see that he was enjoying himself- he was clearly turned on, so she must be doing something right. With the two of them so slippery now, she then proceeded to phase two, and started to stroke his erection, increasingly the intensity as she heard him softly moan that she was the most amazing, awesome girl in the entire world. A little cheesy, but it worked, as she gave way to mutual enthusiasm.
Author Here: Did you know that most men in relationships suffer from a criminally low rate of bj’s? Women suffer even more, with many reporting that they have never had their penises pleasured. On that topic, how is it that a Trap is less gay than lesbians?!
Becky enjoyed how much power she held over him at this very moment, but when she looked into his eyes, his gaze radiated a tender trust as well as physical pleasure, and she knew that he had become open enough with her to share intimate moments like these. If Life were an RPG game of sorts, she was certain that their relationship meter bar was filling up as she continued to give him oral. Sensing his threshold was near, she increased the speed of her hands, and added some sound effects that she knew all guys enjoyed hearing when being stimulated as such, and he finished all over her: Achievement unlocked, and she was proud of herself, truth be told.
The two of them were both out of breath, especially Becky, who had been cranking her neck to accommodate their angles in the bathtub. Tom kissed her, before wiping away his fluids from her face and body, and she lay on top of him as they both recovered from their strenuous post work out aquatic session. Stoking her back, and moving his hand down between her butt cheeks, he started to rub between her legs, ever so softly, and she moaned as the wetness inside her began to flow. He broke the comfortable silence, asking,
“I feel like I should say ‘thank you’, but I’m not sure what the etiquette is when one receives a mind-blowing oral-and-hand-job combo like that.”
“Well, jewellery is normally the going rate, but I’d settle for dinner and a movie, you know, a premium member’s discount.”
As he continued to play with her body, he asked,
“What’s your favourite movie, Becky? I know there’s a lot, but what’s something you’ve always held in high regard?”
She didn’t answer him immediately as she was focused on his hands: the other one now rose up from beneath the water, slid inside, and started to finger her while the other switched over to stimulate the adjacent hole. He just smiled and waited patiently for her to answer, which she did in short breaths,
“It’s tough, but I really, really, like the Titanic movie, with, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Kate Winslet, she was fine, as hell, in that movie- oh god that’s it, Tom, don’t stop!”
His fingers continued to play with her as the pleasure caused her to gasp from such vigorous stimulation and to her embarrassment, she jerked forwards as she came, inadvertently head butting him.
‘Ow!” they both cried out, before laughing hysterically at the blunder. He held her, and she clung on to him as if he would disappear at any moment: both realised just how lucky they were to have the other in their lives, which probably had something to do with the ambience established in the last hour or so. When they had regained their composure, she reciprocated his question,
‘What about you, Tom? What movie could possibly be considered worthy of your all-time favourite spot?”
He didn’t have to think long, before he answered,
“It’d have to be Gattaca, starring Ethan Hawke, Uma Thurman, and the irresistible Jude Law. No homo, but I do like the British accent.”
“Hmmm… I’ve never seen it. What’s it about?”
‘Well, it’s set in a not-too-distant future where eugenics is socially prevalent, and a man who is genetically disadvantaged, due to being born naturally, is secretly fooling the system in order to become an astronaut. I was surprised that it didn’t receive the critical acclaim and box office success of inferior movies, and it’s a film that’s aged remarkably well over the years. Wanna watch it later, after dinner?”
“Sure!” She relished the chance to watch a film that he had spoken about so passionately, wanting to continue the closeness they had developed in the bathtub. They got out and rinsed off in the showers, before getting changed and ordering Chinese food from a charming place called Kung Fu Kitchen. Tom said something suggestive to her when she was munching on the mixed vegetables,
‘Wow, you don’t gag on buk-choy, that’s actually quite kinky.”
She returned his playful teasing,
“Yeah, I’ve never had much of a gag reflex, you must think I’m some kind of a freak, right?
“Oh, I know you’re a right proper freak, young lady.”
They were both amused and turned on by the banter, and needed a word for it: aroumused?
After dinner, they settled down in the living room to experience Gattaca on his laptop, and she watched the film with great interest as Tom was enraptured by the story, a tale of how the main character, Vincent, was held back by society, and refused to succumb to a dreary life without purpose and fulfilment. The special effects were almost non-existent for a sci-fi film, but the plot and acting calibre mitigated any need for that, as the characters wove a story that exemplified all that made the Human Spirit immortal, and a timeless standard to strive towards. Afterwards, when the film ended with Ethan Hawke shooting off into space as Jude Law chose to be incinerated, she pointed out that the silver medal which had caused him to try and commit suicide was now burned gold, symbolising that at the end, his second-place tarnish was scorched to reveal the champion he always was. Tom mentioned that it was ironic that her favourite film was James Cameron’s Titanic, because both films were nominated for the same Oscar in the same year, with Titanic narrowly winning it. Becky was appalled by this revelation, saying,
“That’s a real shame, because Titanic already won so many awards, it could have spared one or two for this masterpiece!”
“Yes, but I suppose it was justified considering the sheer amount of money and time that went into making that film, so it is easy to see that while Gattaca is pound for pound a better a movie, in my opinion, it still lost out to the sheer weight behind Titanic.”
“Hang on, are you calling my favourite movie fat?!”
She was joking of course, and he denied it by saying that the film was merely a ‘bountiful beauty’. At that moment she realised something important about the way he always presented himself, except on those rare occasions he let his guard down: his mask was modelled after the same carefully constructed persona of the main character, Vincent, who had to hide his genetic deficits with the help of another’s superior DNA, despite the latter being wheelchair bound from the accident years ago. Thomas Kei was a man who hid himself under the persona of some other person he had created for a reason only he knew, and occasionally she saw flashes of the real him surface for air, when he thought no one noticed: a man hiding in plain sight. But while he was preoccupied thinking about the movie, which revealed so much about him, she took advantage of the moment to subtly press him for more information.
“So, do you feel a strong connection to the main character, Vincent?”
His answer somewhat surprised her, as he revealed,
“I find myself drawing a rapport with both Vincent and Jerome, but to be honest, it’s more like the entity that is comprised of them both. I am the mask that many people complain I wear, as much as the being that hides behind it. However, after my trip to the desert, I no longer use make up on either of them- I’ve learned to accept myself better, the parts I understand so far anyway.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hear why you identify with both the male leads. Why not just one or the other?” Becky was engrossed at a chance to learn more about him, which he noticed, remarking,
“Hmmm, getting a little psychoanalytical here, aren’t we?” He had that mocking tone of his, which was void of any malice or disgruntlement, and stemmed from self-consciousness.
“Well, what have you got to hide?”, she asked him innocently enough, and she saw in his eyes a decision being made, as he decided to humour her.
“So many things, just like those two in the film. I see myself as Vincent, because I grew up as an Asian in Western society, so I have felt treated as a second-class citizen. Not all the time, and quite the opposite these days, but enough to know that such schisms exist… I wanted to fight against that kind of oppression, because I grew up without any power, wealth, or influence: my family were migrants who worked harder than they should have to ensure I could have a good education, which worked out I guess. But I am also Jerome, the guy in the wheelchair, because I used to achieve things so easily; due to unfortunate circumstances, I was also rendered a cripple of sorts, and I grew very disillusioned with the rat race of winning accolades and achievements. At school, I was an honour student, for a time… of course I was! But that kind of pressure and expectations caused me to miss out on a lot of personal opportunities, and admittedly, I didn’t even have the support I needed to achieve my potential. You know, I realised that at the end of the day, as I lay broken on the metaphorical scrap heap, discarded by virtually everyone, that I was never important, and my efforts had no meaning to others who would forget about me when I had outlived my usefulness. It sounds depressing, but I don’t blame people for the most part- I am a true philosopher, and tackling the human condition is part of the job! I’m sure you also feel the burden of society’s pressures, and that you didn’t exactly live a peachy life, considering your father left when you were young?”
His mask was back up, the darkness in his eyes receded, and he was now deflecting, even though to him, he was simply being polite by asking her about her own life. She wouldn’t be swayed that easily, so she asked him more, her own voice as thick with emotion as his was moments prior, before the end of his reply.
“Is that why you’re always smiling that stupid grin of yours? Because you have to hide your pain? Do you regret that you missed out on a normal childhood?” She expected a flippant answer, but he appeared rather candid with her.
“What does a ‘normal childhood’ even mean? Sure, I had to do a lot more, learn a lot faster, mature earlier than anyone I know, and I did it with a lot less… but do I regret not having a normal childhood? I can’t miss what I never had, and I can’t say that I would have preferred to have an ordinary kind of life. All lives are unique in their own way, right? I need to make the most of the one given to me- that’s what my ex fiancé said, when she forgave me for breaking our betrothal. Besides, as I told you, in this very spot when we first talked about seeing each other, that I don’t even register myself as a human being anymore- I’m merely whatever I need to be in order to do my duty, to survive. It’s what I’ve always been. Vincent and Jerome, they aren’t what they were anymore either, they’re two incomplete men who must band together in order to sustain an ideal: the ideal candidate for Gattaca’s space program.”
“Don’t let them tell you what is or isn’t possible Tom! They’ve got you looking so hard for any flaw, that after a while, it’s all you see. For whatever it’s worth, I’m here to tell you that it is possible for you to overcome your past, and exceed your potential.” She held him tightly as she spoke. He smiled, a ghost of his sardonic grin, as he processed how she had recited that quote almost verbatim from the movie, changing it to fit in with their own discussion,
“No one ever exceeds their potential. If they did, it just means that we did not accurately gauge their potential in the first place.”
His tone was self-mocking as he used another quote from the film, but there was realness to it that indicated her words had reached him. In a more loving tone, he looked at her softly, appreciating her visage as he said to her,
“Honestly, how can one person be so beautiful, so sexy, so caring, and so unbelievably intelligent?”
“I don’t know, but why don’t you tell me how you do it?”
She didn’t skip a beat replying, and as their heart beats synchronised, they looked at the other with increasingly dilated pupils. He was speechless, a rare phenomenon considering his wit and vocabulary, so he used his failsafe for such situations: he kissed her with unprecedented compulsion. Overwhelmed by all the attention he was giving her, it was easier to match his unchained desire as she felt a glowing inferno spread from within, completely overtaking her senses. One thing led to another, and before they knew it, they were naked and in the throngs of passion before they even made it to the bedroom.
Chapter 16: Caught the Flu, had Magic Soup, and a Bedtime Story
Several weeks after their relationship levelled up a few degrees, Becky thought that it was unfair how Tom was never ill, as she had caught the flu: her immune system decided to fail her as she became increasingly under the weather. At first, she told Tom not to visit her as she quarantined herself at the apartment, but then Tasha got sick, and when she mentioned it to him, he had been coming over to bring them soup, salads, and light meals, as well as vitamin water, and was generally cleaning up after their used tissues as well as disinfecting their place. Apparently, he had been a janitor once, which was something of a childhood dream of his for some unknown reason, and had worked together with Jim for a time (they were janitors together during their early university days), so he was unsurprisingly proficient at cleaning. Tasha wanted alcohol, but Tom insisted that it was not good for her, and brought them all zesty salad wraps, a fruit platter, and a home-made chicken soup, which he called a Yang-Style Tonic: ironically, it contained a little rice wine, though Tasha couldn’t really taste any. It was a miraculous broth that gave them both a lot of energy, and seemed to flush out the dampness in their lungs. Both were feeling better as he nursed them back to health, which made Becky feel like the luckiest girl in the world- no guy she dated before had ever been this responsible, or capable,when she got sick.
“Wow Tom, this soup is incredible! Please don’t tell me it contains your cum, because I will still gladly proceed to slurp it up like the whore I am.” Tasha was being her usual lovely self, but the recent series of mild fevers stripped away what little inhibitions and filters she possessed, so she was significantly crasser than usual. Tom took it well, and teased her slightly inappropriate friend,
“Oh no, I wouldn’t waste it on this soup: my ejaculate is amazingly potent- if you swallowed it, you would get younger, your skin elasticity would tighten up as your muscles became toned, and if you had AIDS or cancer, it’d gradually get cured. Drinking it fresh can even fix depression- in me!” Tasha thought he was hilarious and airily responded with,
“Hahaha, wow, I’ll ask Becky if I can borrow you some time, so I can try this magic juice of yours!” Becky was not amused,
“I don’t think so, Natasha.” But her mood softened as Tom checked her temperature, his hand cooling and yet still so warm against her forehead and neck, and she continued to finish the soup he had made for her. It didn’t matter that Tasha was drinking it too, it was made for her specifically, and that was the end of that. Tasha continued speaking to him,
“How are you not sick by now Tom? It’s been like, almost a week, since you’ve come to take care of us, and you still look absolutely healthy!” With a coy grin, he flippantly answered,
“Eh, every single day I just take vitamins, do tai chi, and I drink my own semen, it’s simple, really.”
They all burst out laughing as he made that joke, or at least Becky hoped he was joking about the last part- she had never tatsed his load yet, but she bet it was better than most guys, and definitely better than all of her ex’s; naturally, she hadn’t tried every ex’s load, but she couldn’t imagine that Tom would taste worse than any of them. But soon, due to the comedy he provided, the girls began to cough. Although they were feeling better, their lungs were still recovering, which meant that Tom shouldn’t really be making them laugh too much, despite laughter being touted as the best medicine. Tasha mentioned that her legs were rather sore, and he checked them, discovering that they were a little swollen, and offered to give her a fluid-dissipating massage. As he got to work, Becky watched as he used those meticulous hands on her friend’s legs, and she felt a peppery sensation in her gut as Tasha complimented him on what wonderful fingers he had- fingers which should be reserved for her! However, it was when he started working on the upper thighs that Becky couldn’t stand it anymore, and with a humph, she claimed that she was tired and needed to go to bed. A few minutes later, when Tom was done, and had instructed Tasha to drink plenty of water before she went to sleep, he knocked on her door, before entering the room.
She was fuming slightly, a combination of the illness as well as jealously that Tom was ‘flirting’ with Tasha earlier. He wasn’t taken back by her pertness, though, and proceeded to talk about Freudian psychology.
“You know, Freud purported that we all have a child mind that is very egotistical, and only recognises personal needs to be met. But as we grow, mature, and experience life, we start to include others in our circle of awareness. This all goes out the window, however, when we’re sick, and we regress back to our child mind’s world view, where we are once again the centre of the Universe.”
“Are you calling me a baby? I was just tired- I don’t care if you wanted to feel Tasha’s ass.” Despite trying to sound chill, there was an undeniable trace of venom, aimed at no one in particular, when she said that, which Tom noticed. Stroking her hand, as he sat beside her, he offhandedly commented,
“It’s not as nice as yours, if that’s what you were wondering. She probably qualifies as one of those PAWGs, you know- perfect ass white girls, the ones that black guys swarm over, but I prefer toned to thicc- but you should know that, based on the number times you’ve caught me staring at yours.” She was mollified, and could forgive Tasha for soliciting his hands, and his hands for soliciting her ass, which now got to work on herself. However, he didn’t need to do much as she had better circulation than Tasha, so he simply proceeded to tuck her in, and tell her a bedtime story.
“Once upon a time, there was a prince who wished to one day become a great and mighty King. However, he was still young and inexperienced, so made not a few mistakes when it came to other people. But he was well meaning, so his people tolerated the occasional mistake. One day a sorceress, who had been his childhood friend, decided that he had too much pride, and that ultimately it would prevent him from blooming into a great man. So, after much arguing with him, she grew tired of his conceited rhetoric, and turned him into a frog. #sorrynotsorry
Now he was forced to take leave from running a kingdom, so disheartened was he at the sudden transformation. Residing in a well at the edge of his kingdom, he settled into a much simpler life, and over time heard rumours that if he could but receive a kiss from a princess, he would regain his human form. This gave him hope, so he remained vigilant for the day that a princess would cross paths with him. Luckily his well was located near a common cross roads for travellers, so in due time he did encounter fair maidens. He was even able to convince some to kiss him, so that he may lift the curse, but alas, not every girl was really a princess, and some of the true princesses were wary of another supposedly cursed prince. This of course irked him, for he was seemingly stuck as a frog. Eventually, he learned more about the nature of his condition, and came to realise that he would not be able to break the magic which had afflicted him unless the greater power of sincerity was adopted in his approach. He resolved not to reveal the truth of his condition to any other girl, but instead try to build an honest relationship with one, and hopefully that could help to finally free him.
One day, in a kingdom not terribly far away from the well where our frog prince resides, a princess was travelling. She had been on the look-out for princes who had been turned into various animals, who required a kiss from someone like her in order to regain their human form. She had encountered plenty of ‘princes’ in her journey, but even when she liked them enough to bestow a kiss, they didn’t change. Over time she began to suspect that such stories were merely underhanded ploys to gain favours from princesses such as herself, and she abandoned the notion of finding Prince Charming.
As she was playing, rather absentmindedly, with her favourite toy, a glowing golden ball that could hum faint melodies, she came across the well, and wished to rest by the shade, and take a drink. It was a well maintained well, very clean, and this in part was due to the fact that it was the Frog Prince’s well, which he kept in order as best he could. Our frog prince figured that, while waiting for his princess, the least he could do was some form of public service, and from that day on the waters eventually became crystal clear due to his care. The travelling princess did not fail to note how uncommonly clean it was, for she was an observant girl, though ironically this caused her to lose focus and drop her toy into the well. Now she was distraught, for it was her favourite toy, and upon hearing her distress, the frog prince deduced what had happened, before quickly jumping in to fetch the trinket.
“Thank you, Mr Froggy!”, exclaimed the princess with great joy, pleased at the return of her golden ball. She asked him how she could repay the good deed, and had never expected favours simply because of her birth (though she received plenty of them!). The frog prince declined any reward, merely stating that it was nice to help someone so courteous and fair. Despite his appearance, the frog prince was rather eloquent, for he had been a prince after all, and knew what it meant to be magnanimous. He joked that it was merely his duty as the sole guardian of this well. Sensing how he seemed rather lonely, the princess promised him that she would visit him when she could. And this she did regularly, because a princess keeps her word.
Over time she and the little frog, whom had not yet mentioned that he too was of royal birth, developed a strong friendship, and they enjoyed each other’s company so much that after a point, she invited him to visit her castle. There were some who wondered why the princess was spending so much time with a mere frog, for she had countless suitors who eagerly wished to court her; this was reason enough for her to prefer the company of her oddly charming companion, who made her laugh and was so adorable when he tried to be chivalrous. They ate together, walked together, and she even had a little miniature castle built for him in the pond of her private garden. He found out that perhaps dropping her ball wasn’t out of place for her: she was ever charming but at times clumsy (a fact she tried to hide because it was not lady-like). In time she discovered that he was fond of telling lame jokes which nonetheless could make her laugh as well.
After a time had passed, one night, as she was preparing to sleep, she heard the wet sounds of something approaching her bed chamber. Soon realising who her visitor was, she quickly opened the door to find the little frog, who explained, while quite out of breath, that he had wished to speak to her and it couldn’t wait until morning. She let him into her chambers, and he took a moment to gather his breath (as well as nerves), before explaining to her that he was actually not a frog, but a prince, who was trapped in this form until a princess’s kiss could break it. He apologised for not telling her immediately, but he realised that his feelings had steadily developed into something more than just friendship, and if she felt the same way then all she need do was kiss him, and set him free from the curse.
Our princess was stunned, and remained silent for a time, not daring to look into the eyes of the hopeful Frog Prince. Part of her felt somewhat betrayed, that her friendly little frog had been keeping something like this from her, and also became apprehensive, thinking about the other would-be princes that had tricked her- why did the frog suddenly have to complicate things? After all, she didn’t even know who he really was, did she? Hesitatingly, then gently, but respectfully, she picked him up and placed him on the bedside table, before saying that while she appreciated the frog prince’s company, the answer was unfortunately no, she didn’t, and thus she couldn’t… In the silence that followed, she may as well have flung him against the wall, for he had been a proud prince before, and the shadow of this trait had remained even now as a frog. He unconvincingly tried to laugh it off, but there was an awkward tension between them now, and it saddened them both. He left the chambers, and the princess spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, concerned that her frog friend must be hurting. In the morning, she tried to visit him in his little castle by her garden pond, but he was nowhere to be found. In his usual place, was a small garland of flowers, along with a message that read “Farewell Princess! No Hard Feelings- I hope we can still be friends.” She was relieved, both for her friend’s sake, but also for the chance to spend some time apart.
Our frog prince made it back to his little well in record time, but was no longer content to remain there. He had experienced some small measure of shame, some anger directed at nobody in particular, and plenty of hurt, but afterwards, he mostly felt a new sense of maturity and freedom. For the first time in so long, he no longer cared if he was a frog, because he was still a prince, and if he was going to one day rule his people wisely then something as trivial as webbed feet wouldn’t stop him. Rather than wait at his well for another princess, he started on the journey home, and although he didn’t realise this at the time, he was making larger strides with every hop, almost as if his legs were growing longer…
Not so long after that awkward night, the princess realised how much she missed spending time with her friend, and decided to visit his well. The well was as well maintained as ever, but there was no sign of the little frog. She grew worried when he didn’t appear after some time of her calling him, thinking that maybe he was avoiding her. So transfixed by her musings, she did not notice as someone approached the well, and was startled when a man greeted her in strangely familiar voice.
“Hello Princess, did you miss me?”
She looked into his eyes, and realised who was speaking to her- he looked different, true, but that smile, and the look in his eyes, it was him, her friend who was no longer a frog but returned to human form! Her joy and wonder soon turned to questioning, for if he was no longer a frog, did that mean he had found another princess? She told herself that a concerned friend should know about these things. He told her that it he was adjusting to being human again, but despite his newly resumed duties as a monarch he still took time to maintain the well: it was special to him. He had also been meaning to visit her, and apologised for not keeping in touch. She tactfully remarked that he had done well to find another princess so soon after her, but he just shook his head, assuring her that there had been no other princesses.
“Maybe you’d have to kiss a few frogs before you find a prince, but I am now a king because I found someone I wanted to treat like a queen. I believe that someone who is so beautiful, kind, and courageous, with both the wit and the good grace to laugh at my hilarious jokes, as well as the integrity to always tell me what I need to hear, deserves as much. You said that you don’t know me well enough yet, and maybe it wasn’t fair of me to put so much pressure on you before. Instead of rushing things, why don’t we get to know each other, all over again? Come visit my castle, stay or leave as you wish, and I’ll swear I’ll be as good a host to you as you were to me. There’ll be no more secrets like before, I promise.” He looked at her patiently, eyes hopeful. She looked at him, carefully, before nodding her head.
“Alright. But, I do have one condition.”
‘Which is?”
“This goes without saying, but you’d better not make me sleep in the garden!”
Both laughed, and smiled, and embraced, their previous closeness mended. In the end, a prince who was once stuck with a frog-mentality, and a princess who had given up on the idea of Prince Charming, didn’t overthink their relationship, they just continued to enjoy each other’s company. Even though it’s not a traditional fairy tale ending, there may still be a chance for Happily Ever After.”
Becky listened attentively, too distracted by the tale to notice the fever that had been bothering her all day, and pondered over the layers it held. Tom looked expectantly at her, wanting to know if she enjoyed it, which she did, but it was clearly a fairy tale for the modern world, and as such, there was an awful lot more to unpack. She decided to approach it from a tangent.
“I really liked it, it’s a new twist on an old classic, one that I think would resonate with modern people. That part about false princes who were really just frogs is something I know a lot of my female friends get frustrated about when they try dating apps. What do you think of that?”
“Well, it comes with the territory- I know a lot of my friends complain about girls who seriously expect to be treated as princesses. It’s all about adjusting expectations. But even if the frog in this tale was independent enough to regain his human form, the fairy tale rule is clear: you have to kiss the frog before he can become a prince, and there’s going to be a few toads along the way. Just try not to catch warts!”
“Hahaha, amen to that!” She then asked him what she truly wanted to know,
“Awkward question ish, but are you the Frog Prince, and am I the Princess? Because you know that if you asked me, we could be more than what we are now. We don’t have to be so professional about it.”
He smiled at her, though it contained a trace of sadness, as he told her,
“You are a princess, Becky-hime, but I’m not a prince. I’m afraid that I’m just a frog, though maybe one day I could be something more- like a salamander! In the meantime, do you want to continue having adventures with this abstractly ambivalent amphibian?” With that, he indicated that he was done, and it was time to leave.
Although she was disappointed, she forced a smile and nodded. He kissed her, lovingly, on the forehead, and tucked her in properly, telling her to sleep and that he would be back again tomorrow, turning off her lamp as he got up. She had become quite tired, and now that the story was over, she was fighting the sleep fairies that weighed her eyelids down, but as he left the room she took one last glance at his silhouette, the way he walked, his posture, and all of it sure seemed rather regal to her.
Chapter 17: Making a Porno, Going Blonde, and a Special Honey+Yoghurt Massage
He had come over again the next day, and the next, and at that point the girls had mostly recovered (their symptoms had subsided enough to get on with daily chores), so he didn’t need to visit for the rest of the week. Their illness had come with an unexpected benefit: weight loss! Tasha, more than Becky, was ecstatic that the fevers had evaporated their water weight, and although their muscles had lost some tone, the fact that they had received regular nutrition, courtesy of Tom, meant that their figures hadn’t deteriorated. In fact, after a yoga session, they felt and looked great! Becky was thinking about how to thank Tom for taking such good care of them, and Tasha made an offhanded comment about dyeing her hair blonde, as they believed that he secretly had a fetish for girls of that hair colour.
“Just make sure you shave down there as well, nothing more disconcerting than when the carpet doesn’t match the drapes.”
Becky sourly, and primly, told Tasha to mind her own business,
“Thank you, ‘Little Miss Interior Decorator’, but I think I know how to seduce my own man!”
“Hey, don’t get snippy with me girl! I just wanna help out, since he took such good care of me too, and to be fair, our asses may have been out on the streets long ago if it hadn’t been for his timely intervention.”
“Bitch, I am the streets, and you’d better look both ways before you cross me!” It wasn’t a serious threat, as Tasha was just being playful, and her friend know how to diffuse the situation before it could go nuclear,
“Hahah, you’re so cute when you get possessive! Relax, Tom is your man, and if another skank even tries to lay eyes on him, you know I’ve got your back, right Becky?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry Tasha, I guess I’m just still a little irritable, the last vestiges of that flu, you know?”
“I think that maybe you just haven’t gotten laid in a while, that’s probably why!” Trying to match her friend’s tone, becky joked,
“A good thing my period came in when we were sick- I mean, it was a double dose of hell, putting up with both flu and menstrual symptoms, but at least I couldn’t have had sex anyway.”
Tasha clucked sympathetically- a guy would never understanding how annoying it was to have their monthly tune up from Mother Nature, while also not understanding how nerve-wracking it was when said tune up was late. Though, as Becky was on the Pill, what she was experienced wasn’t technically her period, but hey, if it bleeds monthly like a duck, right?
“Is ‘Aunty Flo’ still in town?”
“Left yesterday, nothing I can’t handle. Wanna come with me to get my hair dyed, maybe get it styled while we’re at it?”
“You know me better than that, of course I’m in!”
They made an appointment for the next day, at their favourite salon, and Becky called Tom to discuss something she had been thinking about. It took a few rings, but when he picked up, she heard ambient street hustle and bustle in the background.
“Hey ‘Thomas Nightingale’, have you got a moment?”
“Who is this, and how did you know my real name is ‘Florence’!? Hah, just kidding! Hey Becky, how’s my favourite patient doing?” She smiled, and said,
“Oooh, better not let Tasha hear that doc, you’ll break her heart.”
“Luckily for her I’m a cardiac surgeon- but I’m sure she’ll be okay, she’s got an excellent room mate to help her recover.”
“You’d better believe she does! Okay, serious talk now.”
“What’s on your mind?” Becky explained how grateful she was that that he had come to look after her, and Tasha, so she wanted to do something especially risqué for him. He sounded visibly more attentive, and rapturous when she told him her plan,
“I wanna make a porno.”
“With me?” She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it,
‘No, with Tasha- yes you, you big dolt.” Inncuously, he said in a falsely sweet tone,
“I’d be okay if you wanted to make one with Tasha- I’d just watch from the sidelines.” Pretending to be outraged, she exclaimed,
“You dirty old man! How long have you been perving on my best friend!?” He laughed, but then, more seriously said,
“Relax Becky, I’m just using humour to deflect because I am really taken by this generous gesture, nay, boon, of yours. Did you know that men lose quite a few IQ points when they speak to somebody they consider attractive? You’re insanely hot, so I’m lucky that I have points to spare, otherwise I’d have nothing going for me.” Still trying to play it cool, despite being flattered, she said,
“Oh, I know that boys become idiots when they try to impress us girls, but a man such as yourself really should have more composure, don’t you think?” Her teasing brought out his wilder side, as he reprimanded her in a playful manner,
“Young lady, I will not take that tone from you, and if you continue, then I’ll simply have to spank you when you get home.” It was getting exciting now, and she shot back, defiantly,
“I don’t think you have the balls, old man. I’d like to see you prove it!” He was completely on board with the plan now, as she knew he would be, and replied,
“Okay! So, when did you want to shoot this porno? I think I can probably clear up my schedule.”
“Oh, that’s just so sweet of you! Sorry, too much sarcasm there, it’s not like me, I know. Uh, I was thinking tomorrow night, at your place, 7pm? I’ve got the tripod and Bluetooth speakers from my escort days. All you need to do is come up with a flimsy premise for me to get naked, and I’ll show you what a great improv actress I am.” She could practically hear his salivating, mentally not physically, as he agreed,
“Deal. Let’s go for an Academy Award!”
“Hold your horses cowboy, no one except you and I will ever see this, do you understand?” With a more demure and polished voice, he assured her,
“Absolutely, this is just something between two consenting adults who enjoy spending time with each other, sans clothing. Can’t wait!” Despite trying to sound professional, his excitement broke through at the end, which made her feel more comfortable with this admittedly daunting roleplay idea she had suggested, but she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
Clearly, he was very enthusiastic about the idea, and she was pretty excited too- until the next day came around. She and Tasha were seen by their favourite stylist without any hitch, where she was subjected to chemical treatments that were probably killing the scalps of women around the world. A few hours later, after she was styled and blow-dried, a stunning platinum blonde bombshell stepped out of the salon, accompanied by her best friend, who had decided to go for a shorter pixie look that really suited her features. Naturally they were sending compliments the other’s way from the moment they left the place.
“Oh my god, Becky, you look like a fuckin’ supermodel, a fun-sized Victoria’s Secret girl!”
“I absolutely love what you did with that pixie cut, the shorter hair just works so well with your angles. You look like you’re a high schooler again- but not awkward!”
“Aww, shuddup girl, you’re going to make me blush!” Becky then addressed a growing anxiety, those second thoughts and doubts which had plagued her since last night,
“Do you think Tom will like it? What if he hates it!?”
“Relax Becky! You know as well as I do that a guy doesn’t care about a girl’s hair colour, as long as we’ve got hair. There’s no way he won’t be pleased, maybe even a little flattered? You did this for him, after all.”
Tasha was able to allay Becky’s concerns about the hair, but still, she wasn’t aware that Becky and Tom would be filming amateur porn later that evening. To make herself feel as confident as possible, she decided to get dressed in her sexiest outfit, the one that never failed to make her feel like Wonder Woman. Later that evening, donning a long overcoat, carrying her equipment in her handbag, there was definitely a clandestine glamour about going to see her man, with the intent to do something as naughty as film themselves getting kinky. She wondered what he had planned for her, but for the most part she was quite prepared for anything he’d have in store… right? She arrived at his place a few minutes earlier than 7pm, knocked before she let herself in, and her eyes widened as she saw what was waiting for her.
He had converted his living room, the largest room of his apartment, into a make-shift studio, by moving most of the furniture to the sides, freeing up room in the middle, and had covered the floors with white sheets. This clearly would be no mere amateur porn video; he was prepared to create something of significantly higher investment. When he came out of the bathroom, shirtless, she noticed that his muscles were extra pronounced. His expression was brimming with excitement when he saw her with a different hair colour, and she noticed him eyeing it with great interest.
‘Hey princess, did you do something with your hair? Just kidding, you look like a goddess right now- I will never question your commitment to anything ever again! Do you like what you see? I’ve been doing a lot of gym time since I got your call yesterday.” He flexed a little, which secretly made her less nervous and more turned on, then continued speaking,
“Are you wearing anything underneath that?” She didn’t answer as she gave him a certain look, and it was his turn to be captivated, as she slowly undid the buttons of her coat, and spun around as it slid away. His eyes drank in the sight of her loveliness as she revealed that she was wearing a black mesh bodysuit, transparent and enticing, as well as black denim shorts. The cherry on top, or bottom in this case, were the very accentuating doc marten boots that made her look dangerous, mysterious, and oh so tantalising. Tom whistled, slowly, being pulled closer to her raw sexual energy, and drew her into his arms, whispering
“Wow. Just- wow… you’re giving off such a Bad Girl vibe right now. Definitely not someone I’d bring home to my mother. Why does that make me want you more?”
She smirked, and kissed him in a very drawn out, Bad Girl kind of way, and he was almost left steaming as a result. Deciding to tease him, she pulled away, playfully, and asked,
“So, what’s the plan, director? Do we have a script?”
“Not exactly a script, more of a concept, but that outfit works perfectly for it. How are you with BDSM themes?”
Her eyes widened- this was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He explained that he was very drawn to the whole power dynamics of a master and slave relationship, and wanted to do something to have a little fun with that; her role was to be a defiant human pet who needed to be taught proper discipline. After reassuring her that he wasn’t going to leave any whipping cuts or heavy bruises on her flawless body (only a bit of a ‘fun’ paddling), she decided to just go for it wholeheartedly, and they began filming. The idea was that they would leave his phone camera on the entire time, and they could edit it later to make something more cinematic: for their eyes only, of course. Tom took out a leather leash and studded collar, specially selected for her, with a pink heart shaped tag labelled ‘Princess’, and clipped it around her neck. Then he plugged in his phone on the tripod, and pressed ‘Record’.
The scene played out like a noir feature.
Her Master had bought her at the auction earlier, and she was discounted because of the fact that she had an ‘attitude’, so quite a few perverts and sadists had bid for the chance to tame this shrew. Almost all of them had no qualms with damaging their slave girls, considering them nothing more than chattel for their own convenience. But this man was different, he was firm and imposing, but not cruel. Slave Doll #49 had seen remorselessness in the eyes of the trainers who failed to break her spirit. She swore than no man would ever reduce her to just a subservient living sex doll. But he didn’t have that look, he was different somehow.
When he took her home, being led on a leash, he didn’t just forcibly drag her along when she refused to move. Instead, he took out a bowl of different fruit pieces. The smell of such fresh and luscious fruits enticed her, and she relented, fully entering the abode. He placed the bowl on the floor, fed her a strawberry, and was pleased to discover that she liked it very much. But when she tried to reach for more, he simply shook his head, and used an oblong rubber paddle, to smack her hindquarters. She tried to reach for more fruit several more times, but he always pulled her back by the leash, and again she felt a resounding impact on her lower cheeks. When she desisted, he commanded her to kneel upright, almost as if she were a bitch being told to sit, and fearing more impacts, she complied. He patted her on the head, telling her what a good girl she was, and gave her another strawberry, as well as a juicy square cut piece of mango. Quickly, she associated which behaviours would result in treats and which ones were met with punishment.
Deciding that she needed exercise, he commanded her to crawl around the living room, periodically commanding her to stand and bend over, where he would run his warm, powerful hands over her body. When she tried to bite him, as he lifted her chin to look into her eyes, he just smiled instead of reacting shocked or angered, and took out a ball gag from his pocket. Instructing her sit, and spanking her several times more when she refused, Slave Doll #49 at last lowered herself before him, and he stroked her hair, tell her what a good girl she was as he fed her an exotic tasting morsel of something called dragon-fruit. When she was done eating, he applied the ball in her mouth and fixed it around her head. Up to this point she was still dressed, but he had been waiting for her defiance to wear thin, and they had developed a better rapport as he rewarded her with the delicious fruits. Thus, he was met with no resistance when he started to undress her, delicately, until she was just in her lingerie. At that point, he commanded her to remove her bra, which she did, her chest heaving from having to breathe through only her nostrils. He then grabbed black leather handcuffs, styled after her collar, and bound her wrists behind her.
She stood before him, completely naked, aside from her underwear, as he examined her, and circled around as he muttered something under his breath: “Exquisite”. Then, he took out somethings from his pockets, bells? No, they were nipple clamps, weighted with a heavy metal that had bells affixed to them. She shrank back as he tried to clip them to her breasts, but a stern look from him caused her to slump her shoulders in acceptance, and she winced as the cold, blunt steel bit down on her sensitive nipples.
He then told her to kneel before him, while keeping her eyes on his, and watched her body submit, while the fire in her eyes burned brightly as she glared at him. With a grin, he took out a silk cloth, and blindfolded her, now bound and gagged, helpless before her Master. Yet what happened next surprised her, as instead of more pain, he knelt down and began to kiss her tenderly all over her body, from her neck to the base of her spine, and the next part was even more sensual as she felt him use a feather to stimulate her all over. The room was silent, save for her pronounced ragged breaths, and the jingle jangle of the bells attached to her nipples. Suddenly he stopped, took off her blindfold, and asked her,
“I am your Master, understood?” Her eyes, previously so defiant, were now tender, accepting, and she nodded. He continued speaking,
“If you are good, I will treat you very well, much better than anyone else. But if you misbehave, then you leave me no choice but to punish you. Is that fair?”
Again, she nodded, as his words carried a sincerity to them that made her more trusting of him. As he removed the gag, he moved close to her face, and said,
“You’re no longer #49. Here, you can choose any name you like, and you will be my princess. Do you accept?”
Removing the ball gag meant that she was permitted to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she kissed him, ravenous and insatiable, their tongues contoured around and inside the other’s mouth for what felt like an eternity, before finally breaking away.”
“Aaaand that’s a wrap! Fantastic work from our leading lady, you were absolutely brilliant Becky!”
The immersion broke as Tom switched back to his regular persona. How strange, Becky thought: she was expecting some sex scenes for their porno, but this work of art was the most erotic thing she had probably ever come across, and he didn’t even get naked! She just stared in wonder as Tom joked about how he almost preferred her like this, before he undid her cuffs, and gently removed the clamps: her nipples were still rather sensitive, almost stinging, which he assured her was natural and should subside soon. In her mind, she was thinking about whether Tom had come up with this from just yesterday, or if it was an idea that had been mulling around his head for a while. He just stared at her as she stood up, and she became self-conscious as he scanned her almost threadless body, and told her what he enjoyed best about the acting.
“Your eyes were so expressive. Not only does that make you a great actress, but it’s also a huge turn on…Want some more fruit?” He offered her the bowl they had used in the movie, and she gladly accepted. They were all well picked assortments, ripe and succulent, and the dragon fruit was something that looked so supercharged with exotic erotic energy- she compared it to Tom. But he had another surprise in store for her, and she grew curious as he took out some small vats, one from the fridge and one from the pantry. He explained,
“I was so touched that you wanted to do this with me, and I was worried that the paddling may have been a bit much, but you took those slaps like a champion.” He looked over to her ass, and there were dark reddish clouds courtesy of earlier impacts- not that he had tried to hurt her, but they both agreed that the sound effects needed to be realistic. Still, that didn’t explain what he had in the vats, until he elaborated,
“As you’ve been so generous to me, I wanted to do something special for you too. I’m going to give you a very unique massage, right now. Oh, but first, please tie up your hair, and remove the rest of what your’re wearing.” There was devilish glint in his eyes, despite his regular smile.
Her curiosity was piqued, as he then motioned for her to get on all fours- she was glad that his apartment was carpeted, because even with the sheets, her knees would have been killing her otherwise. He ran his hands lightly over her body, feeling her muscled limbs, and gently caressing her unusually warm butt cheeks and thighs. Then he got undressed because according to him, the next part would get messy. The real fun began as he emptied one of the containers on her body, dripping the contents along her shoulders, torso, and all along her backside: it was yoghurt, cool, fresh, sweet smelling vanilla yogurt, cascading along her body, unto the covered floor. The liquid feeling was compounded by the coldness as her body reacted to the new sensations, and she was really getting into the mood as Tom began rub the product all over her body, its coolness soothing the tartness from her butt and thighs. But that wasn’t all, as he took out the second container he had brought out, and started to empty the thick and viscous contents on her as well: it was honey!
“This is really good for the skin: yoghurt has so many beneficial microbes, and honey is a miracle substance that never expires, with a long history of medicinal effects. This particular honey was a gift from Devon, which may not have been the intended use- he has a beekeeping hobby, so this is very organic, and he’s not going to miss it. Together, the honey and yoghurt make a great skin lotion. Messy, and you’ll get even dirtier than you normally are, but a lot of fun, wouldn’t you agree?”
He then slapped her ass, and they both enjoyed how the honey caused his hand to stick to her skin. Pulling it back, her muscles were treated to a suction effect as the thick and sticky substance tried to cling on. He did this for other parts of her body, remarking how beautiful she was, as alluring as Venus/Aphrodite herself, and that he wanted to do his part to keep her healthy and vibrant.
Author Here: You thought I forgot about you? Never, I am just committed like that. I’ll spare you the romanticised depiction of what would realistically be a lot of investment before, during, and after such activities! But Tom and Becky are enjoying themselves, so we can be happy for them, as well as the fact that fictional cum doesn’t have to taste bad. Eidos is a philosophical concept about the idealised form of something, which reality often can’t match.
“Hey, Becky, do you know what’s the difference between a blonde and a mosquito?”
She continued to blow him as he suddenly slapped both of her ass cheeks, and left his hands stuck there, the combination of honey and vanilla acting like glue, and squeezed. He delivered the punchline,
“The mosquito stops sucking when you slap it.”
She found it so funny that she began to really apply the suction power of her mouth, and took pleasure in hearing him gasp involuntarily. He didn’t shut up though, as he got in one last haggard parting shot.
“You know, I must have drunk at least ten litres of pineapple juice since yesterday. Just saying.”
It was a well-timed quip, as he reached his threshold at not a moment after, and he emptied himself inside her mouth. Becky waited for him to finish completely, turned around and locked smoky eyes with him, her mouth full, before she swallowed everything, licking her lips, rendering him speechless as she merely said one word,
“Yummy.”
Exhaustion suddenly set in as she collapsed on top, and they both laid on the floor, motionless aside from their heavy breathing, and occasional licks of the other. Eventually, Thomas recovered, and carried her to the bathroom- they were pretty much adhesively bonded, so it wasn’t as if he had much choice. As they pulled themselves apart, with parts of their skins simply refusing to give up their sweet embrace, they suddenly came unstuck, laughing all throughout the endeavour. Tom and her showered: as he was less covered by the honey and yoghurt he insisted that Becky also take a good long bath to rinse everything off, reminding her that her downstairs microbiome wouldn’t be very happy if it became contaminated with the sugar and microbes from her special skin lotion. Disappointed, as she wanted to bathe with him, he gave in to her pouting and after she was done cleaning up, they emptied the bath and took another one, together. He was rather diligent as he scrubbed away at her nooks and crannies with the loafer, making sure she was thoroughly clean; she could have done it herself, but allowed him to fuss over her as it made her feel rather pampered. With a grin, he asked her,
‘So, how did I taste? I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been chugging down that pineapple juice.”
She thought back to earlier, and revealed that he actually tasted quite good- not bitter or otherwise foul as some guys unfortunately were. Apparently, he never smoked or drank alcohol, and avoided meat most of the time, as well as drinking plenty of water- the pineapple juice was probably a lesser contributor to his natural flavour, compared to his lifestyle, but she could taste it too, she thought.
“So, am I going to get magical cosmic powers now, Tom?” Her tone was teasing, which he mirrored,
“Probably. If you start feeling like you have more energy, and aren’t so bothered by mood swings, then it’s not unlikely that it’s having an effect on you- there’s a lot of healthy hormones in my bodily fluids, you know?”
“Wait, couldn’t a person theoretically drink it like one would take vitamins? Or protein shakes? Stop laughing, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”
He settled down, and told her that in traditional Taoism, sexual fluids from men and women were thought to be life affirming, and as such, semen retention was practiced even to this day by groups which believed in maximising their individual potency. Even certain athletes adhered to the principle as it was believed to be harmful to their chances of success.
“Well, what does the science say about it?” She was curious if this was an actual phenomenon that had real world consequences.
“For guys, the tests show that any benefits they have are more to do with mental resilience. But in females, they discovered that having sex before sporting matches lowered stress and boosted things like testosterone, as well as provided a whole bunch of other correlated benefits. It even helps with things like depression, according to a study done on college girls who had sex with male partners, with and without using condoms. The ones who used condoms didn’t report the same bonuses as those who didn’t. Not that we shouldn’t advocate condoms, despite the two of us being hypocrites most of the time.”
“I trust you, Tom. It’s funny, I remember when I was speaking to the other escorts, who Tasha and I called our Big Sisters, and they told us that they never caught anything from sex, except when they were doing it with their boyfriends, because they didn’t use the same levels of protection with them.”
“Well, I suppose that is just the reality of Love Sickness.”
“Huh? What do you mean by that? I’m talking about STI’s.”
“Me too, but I just think Love Sickness sounds nicer than ‘Venereal Disease’, hahah!”
“Oh you!” She started splashing him with water for being so lame, and lost track of time as they decided to fool around in the bathtub for a while. It had been quite the evening, but when they did climb out and dry off, they discovered a cruel twist of Fate. When Thomas had plugged in his phone earlier, he neglected to switch it on at the outlet, which meant that they only recorded part of their earlier performance before his device turned off. That initial scene was mostly there, which Becky was glad about, but Thomas mused that he would have enjoyed watching her get all sticky and dirty with him. She reassured him,
‘Oh well, we’ll just have to reshoot next time, right, stud?”
That made him a lot happier, and they realised they were starving, because fruit and honey yoghurt (with a little extra protein for her) were far from filling, and he ordered them some pizza while they snuggled in his bedroom; the living room was still covered by the earlier mess. That was when he asked her something that made her heart simultaneously skip and sink.
“Hey, we’re past half-way through the contract. Until the end, do you wanna, maybe, move in with me? So we can maximise our time together?”
She went quiet as she considered his offer, which was a chance to get closer to him, but he had specifically mentioned that he still considered them under the terms of their original agreement. Before she could talk about it further, the pizza arrived, and he just told her to think about it for now. They were both very hungry after such a strenuous and creative evening, thus were more focused on munching through the food than discussing anything heavy. Noticing that he had ordered extra pineapple for their pizza amused her, and he was well aware of it, though played innocent. After eating, the fatigue set in and they went to bed together, falling asleep fairly quickly. She whispered to him,
“Goodnight, Tom. I think I love you.”
But she received no answer: he was fast asleep, snoring slightly, and she just gazed at him until she too drifted away into mental oblivion.
Chapter 18: To Move in or Not Move in?
“So, Tasha, do you think I should take his offer?”
Her best friend pretended to contemplate deeply, and mused over the situation. Ever since Becky had come home from Tom’s a few days ago, rocking that smoking femme fatale outfit she reserved for when she needed extra confidence, she had been distracted. While Tasha didn’t want to pry too much into their relationship- alright, she loved snooping into their love life, but it was a little weird as far as she knew, and that kind of made her more hesitant about poking her nose in, unless it directly impacted her. As she discreetly observed Becky, she determined that he hadn’t broken up with her, and it didn’t appear that she was trying to break up with him either. That was when she told her that Tom had asked her to move in, which should have been good news, until she explained that he still didn’t consider them in a proper relationship.
“Okay, Rebecca, let’s think this through, because it appears that you are going by a lot of assumptions, instead of concrete facts. You like Tom enough to move in with him, but you are hesitating because he won’t use the label of ‘girlfriend/boyfriend’. We’ve established that he probably isn’t a serial killer or a child molester, probably, but you still don’t like that you don’t know all that much about him, and you’re afraid to ask because he wants to keep things professional, all correct so far?
“All except one thing- I don’t just like him, I think I’m falling for him. Which is so weird because I don’t even know if he’s who I’m falling for! There’s so much about him that’s like a brick wall- a very decorated and well-built brick wall, make no mistake about it, but even if you’re distracted reading the notices, it still doesn’t change the fact that the wall is always there- it’s probably even just one part of the labyrinth that is ‘Tom’! He hasn’t told me that he expects an answer soon, but it’d be weird to not give him one after a while, so what do I do?!”
Tasha tried her best to console and counsel Becky, telling her that if she didn’t want to move in, then she should just say it to his face. Becky shook her head, and tried to elaborate her frustrations,
“No, you don’t get it, it’s not that I don’t want to move in, it’s just that I want to know if I’d do it for the right reasons. He has a tough time opening up to me, or anyone, as far as I know, but he offered me the opportunity to live with him for the next few months because he wants to spend more time with me. I know he’s not going to get mad if I say no, but if I don’t handle this delicately, he may reconsider opening himself up to me again! I mean, if I knew how he felt, it would make things so much easier… gargh!”
Tasha was unused to seeing Becky so flustered over a guy, but she understood that it was probably more complex than she was giving her friend credit for. Still, what’s the answer to a complex problem? A brilliantly simple solution, and that was what she, Natasha McKenzie, was going to get for her sister from another mister.
Meanwhile a similar conversation was being held as Tom and Jim were working out together at their old university gym. It was a common joke between then that they would meet at the ‘Tom’, instead of the ‘Jim’, because Tom was an uncommonly well-built man who needed to work-out very little for his build. Perhaps it was genetics, perhaps it was a divine reward for pursuing spiritualism, or maybe it really was just the breathing he did from his tai chi, but the guy was jacked in a way that Jim could never manage to duplicate. The fact that Jim preferred doing cardio was an oft criticised point of his training regime, which is why Tom had offered to get him involved with more weights. So far, it was working, and much to Jim’s chagrin, Tom was once again right about something that had been overlooked for so long.
He had met Tom a long time ago, and the man was still more of a mystery to him than not, which must be difficult for that new young lady in his life. Yes, he was generous, mostly easy going, extremely knowledgeable, funny/witty, and whimsical in an oddly charming way, but he was also a man who had once fractured Jim’s ribs by accident (when he landed a glancing blow while wearing twelve-ounce boxing gloves), and he took honour and nobility to anachronistic extremes. The Tom who had come back from the desert appeared to be similar to before, but had revealed that darker quality which Jim saw, but never confided to anyone, even Devon, who got along extremely well with Tom and always invited him over to spend time together. Still, that darker quality had lowered his mask somewhat, and as he had never once tried to hurt Jim, or anybody else as far as he knew, Jim was grateful that Tom could express himself better. Well, in regards to not hurting people, that was only in the conventional sense, because as he tried to hold on to the weights they had stacked for the dead lift, he was admittedly in some amount of pain.
“Come on Jim, a couple more seconds, and then we have a new personal best!”
In many ways, Tom was a great personal trainer- except that he was always looking towards what the client could be, as opposed to what they were in present time. This meant that people who preferred a walking pace were often swept past their comfort zones sooner rather than later. Actually, that was something that made him a very inspiring training buddy, so Jim didn’t mind so much. Right now, he had about eighty kilograms worth of disks loaded on, and while he was straining himself, the look on Tom’s face gave him the motivation to keep holding on, despite how his body burned. At last, he dropped the heavy weights with a thud, and focused on regaining his breath. Tom was very pleased, and excitedly told him that he had beaten his old time by fifteen seconds, very impressive, as Jim weighed less than the total he was just carrying!
After they were done, Tom forbade him from using the treadmills, saying that he had worked exceptionally hard lifting weights, and that his body needed to acclimate to that. So far, Tom’s methods were producing results, as in a month he had advanced past that plateau of ‘skinny fat’, and was approaching the borders of ‘cut’. His friend happily took this moment to talk about Becky and how they had been progressing with their relationship.
‘So, have you made it clear to her what you two are, exactly?”
Tom looked perturbed for a moment, before answering,
“Not in those words, specifically, but I did invite her to stay with me for the next couple of months.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing yet, she’s thinking it over, naturally.” Jim felt emboldened after their work out, and decided to be frank with him,
“Tom, I really think that while you mean well, you should decide on what you two are before you offer something like that. It could be really confusing for her otherwise.”
“Huh? Explain yourself Jim!” He had an inkling of what Jim meant, but his style was to feign ignorance so that others could speak openly. It normally worked, except when the other knew he was doing it deliberately, in which case it came across as a little contrived.
“Well, from what you’ve told me, which isn’t everything, I know, but from what I gather, you had an arrangement where you would only be together for a limited time, right?”
“Exactly, at which point we can end things before they get stale, and preserve the good times. And let me assure you Jim, there have been many ‘good times’ thus far.”
“Okay, I didn’t need to know that. But that’s my point- haven’t you considered that your original proposition is no longer applicable? That she would want more?” At that point Tom let his mask drop a little, and he spoke quite plainly.
“It has crossed my mind, yes. I have been upfront with her from the start, and have shared things with her that I haven’t with anyone, even you, my dear Jim, and you know that I find you to be a very good listener. From the beginning, I have treated her as respectfully as I know how, attended to her needs, nursed her when she was ill, and I’m curious about her own interests. We have a lot of fun, we have deep discussions, and our sex life is unbelievably satisfying, for me anyway, though I’d be surprised if she felt differently. Whether it’s material gifts, sincere advice, or my full attention in her company, I don’t think I’ve neglected her on any front. What else I could offer her? What more could she could possibly want from me?”
“How about a relationship? Or is that not possible?” Tom sighed as Jim hit the crux of the issue, and levelled with his old confidante,
“Look, Jim, I swore off being too involved with any one girl- it was the worst defining aspect of my life since leaving high school. Plus, I’m not ready, not after the whole Naomi and ex fiancé fiasco: I am not ready to let myself be that vulnerable to another person. In fact, I never want to be, ever again! But Becky understands that about me, I’m sure of it, so I can count on her to be strong enough to handle what I’m asking of her. She’s an amazing girl, so clever and full of joie de vivre (that’s zest for life you uncultured plebian), understanding and receptive, as well as being very beautiful. The last thing I want is for her to enter a relationship with me, only to find out later that I’m just weird, damaged, middle-aged man. It would be irresponsible of me to do that to her.”
Jim was gentle as he pointed out something important about the nature of their relationship,
“If you respect her so much, and if she’s as intelligent as you say, then shouldn’t she be the one to make that decision?” Tom bristled, as he muttered,
“You sound so much like the others, like Toby and Louise and the rest of those god-damned sanctimonious hypocrites! Sometimes, these tough decisions have to be made for the sake of the Greater Good, and my happiness is not a valid reason to rob Becky of the best years of her life! Sorry, I’m sorry Jim, don’t give me that look, I feel bad!”
Jim was a little taken aback at how much bitterness has erupted from deep within Tom, but he reassured the other man that it was okay, and thus Tom continued,
“Look, from my own perspective, I am only going to be good for her as a whirlwind romance, a memory that she will look back upon fondly when she’s fully matured and knows what she wants in life. Trust me, I’m not it.”
Jim had experienced this self-determined attitude before, as Tom sometimes ranted about his inner frustrations to him, and while it was rather unsettling at first, it had definitely made their own friendship seem more real. So why couldn’t he understand that very same concept, when it came to getting involved with Becky?
“Tom, don’t you think that your idea of a relationship is just a fairy tale? You only want to create a perfect memory for Becky, but I think she’d gain a lot more out of this if you could show her more of the real you. I mean, what are you afraid of?”
The paradox of relationship insecurity: comprised of those who want to be loved, yet refuse to love for fear of rejection, or worse still, being used for another’s validation. Perhaps this is what plagued Tom, as he pondered over his relationship with Becky- they did have a relationship, even if he only wanted to keep it sweetly professional, and he reconsidered what he was doing to her by choosing the safe and easy path. In spirituality, salvation was not so easily obtained, it could not be bought or procured via other means- it had to be earned through trials and tribulations. Tom looked over to Jim, who was ill at ease, thinking that perhaps he had gone too far, but Tom simply smiled at him, reassuringly.
“Thank you, Jim, truly, thank you. Once again, you’ve been such a good gay friend to talk over my problems with, and you’ve shown that you’re the better man, for telling me what I needed to hear. How is it that you give such good relationship advice, despite only ever having been in one relationship?” He spoke mockingly, which Jim knew was actually a sign of praise, and a sign of how close the two were. Offhandedly, he remarked,
‘Eh, well, we gays have magical powers, like the media says. It’s why Devon and I have been together for so long; people think that having more relationships makes for better dating advice, but I think that someone who did it right the first time is the more trustworthy source. Plus, you have to remember that I’ve been in Becky’s position, back when I had that crush on you before meeting Devon.” Giving him a playful shove, Tom said,
“Haha, please Jim, you’re waaaay out of my league, plus you two just work so well together! I’m still sorry about that… As I told you then, I’m a very straight man, almost suspiciously so, but I hoped that I was never unkind to you. I wanted to ensure you didn’t feel like it changed our friendship, or that I exploited you in any way.”
“No, you were very kind and respectful, almost suspiciously so, which is why I want you to find happiness. A lot of us do, you know, because we’ve never seen you date in the entire time we’ve known you. This Becky, she brings out a side of you rarely seen, and to be honest, it’s nice to know that you’re a real person, with real feelings, after all.”
“Hahahah, what am I all of a sudden, Pinocchio?! I’m not real Jim, I’m a philosopher, which means I understand that nothing is ‘real’. Now, back to business, you’ve done great today, your muscles are looking jacked, so let’s go and grab some Subway to feed those pythons!” Seeing that Tom was done being candid, Jim matched his tone,
“No agony, no bragony!”
“Hulk out with your bulk out, bro!”
They descended into Bro-speak and machismo, laughing all the while, as only true male friendships can facilitate, and he made plans to speak to Becky that very evening via the classiest way possible: text message.
Him: Hey, are you home tonight? I want to talk. We can have ramen for dinner =D
Her: Sure, I’m down. Was meaning to talk to you too… When u comin by?
Him: Is 6pm good?
Her: Okay. See you tonight.
Becky couldn’t quite shake the butterflies in her stomach. The text message seemed innocent enough, but she knew it was merely the calm before the storm. Tasha understood they needed some alone time, so she was going to head out when Tom arrived, and was a shoulder for her friend to lean on while Beck paced around and chewed her nails, which Tasha kept reminding her to stop doing.
“You honestly have no chill girl! Breathe, relax your shoulders, drink some alcohol to steady your nerves, God forbid you make me get out the smelling salts!”
“Okay, okay, okay… you’re right, I’m good, I’m calm, I’m a lily pad atop the pond, serene and peaceful… until the frog jumps on me, and water splashes everywhere! Gah!”
“Becky, chill!” Her friend watched as the other girl couldn’t stop jittering.
“He’s going to break up with me, I can feel it, oh God why didn’t I just say yes from the beginning!? I tried to go against the House and now he’s calling my bluff, and I’m going to lose everything!” Eventually, she did calm down significantly, and apologised to Tasha.
“Thanks for being my bestie, and supporting me. I know I can do this, we’re going to talk like real adults, because that’s what we are.”
“Oh good, because he’s downstairs.” Tasha noticed that Tom was making his way from the parking lot, and Becky freaked out once more.
“WHAT!?” What time is it?! Oh god, it’s almost six, and I’m not dressed to impress!”
“Relax girl, I’ve got your back! You go make yourself pretty, perk up those glorious boobs of yours for negotiation leverage, and I’ll go stall him. Roger that?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yeah sis, and don’t you forget it!”, she said with a wink, as she made her way downstairs to intercept Tom. They normally just buzzed him in, but she beat him to the intercom. He looked quite calm, that manipulative bastard, how dare he look so composed when her friend was losing her mind over him?!
“Hey Tasha, what a coincidence!” He beamed, not a trace of guilt in his expression, a true sign of a psychopath (from Tasha’s perspective). She tried to pin him against the wall in an attempt to intimidate him, but the guy was bigger, heavier, and built like a tank, so she resorted to just beating her laughably ineffective fists on his chest. All of this didn’t hurt him, but he looked visibly confused as she reprimanded him for his mind games.
“You know, even if you’re paying her, you can’t treat Becky this way, Tom! I don’t know what sort of bullshit deal you made, but she’s been losing her mind over the last couple of days, and it’s all your fault! It’s almost like you’re projecting your ideals onto her, reducing her to a blank canvas!”
Tom seemed hurt by her words, in contrast to her beating, which had stopped as her hands were starting to ache- what was this guy, an android sent from the future or something!? His eyes flashed, and Tasha suddenly felt apprehensive, as one would when a sleeping lion suddenly opens its eyes, while they’re attempting to pluck a whisker from its face. But that disappeared almost as quickly as it surfaced, and he only looked remorseful as he told her,
“You’re right, I am going to go upstairs and talk to her right now. I see why she considers you her sister: you’re truly a great friend, Tasha.”
She was bewildered- that was all it took? It was easier than she expected it to be… he didn’t try to defend his actions or explain his motives in anyway. Feeling pleased with herself, she told him that Becky was waiting for him, and that if he made her cry, she would be back to inflict more punishment on him. He just grinned hollowly, and told her he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Privately, Tasha hoped it wouldn’t come to that either- for her own sake, if not his. He made his way upstairs as quickly as he could, and knocked on their apartment door.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
Her voice was muffled but he was delighted that she responded in kind.
“Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin. But the door’s open, so just get in already!”
He walked in, and saw her wearing a knitted white blouse that accentuated her bosom, which had somehow gotten bigger since last saw them (probably a fashion-based optical illusion), and dark skirt, along with crème stockings. She looked so perfectly wholesome, especially with her new Fae-like hair, and he smiled as he approached her, kissing her in a prolonged but tentative manner. She spoke first,
“Hey. I’m going to ignore that you called me a swine just now.”
“Hey babe, you answered the call, so you can’t hold me accountable for that, can you?”
“Oh Tom, you really don’t know a woman’s heart, do you?” They just laughed quietly, and he asked her if she was hungry. Murmuring, she said,
“To be honest, not really, but we can still get dinner.”
“Actually, I’m not that hungry either. Wanna talk?”
“I’d like that.”
She made them some tea, and for a while the sounds of the kettle brewing were the only ones in the room, as they both mentally measured what they should say to the other. He decided to use some humour,
“You know I ran into Tasha on the way up here.”
“Oh?” She pretended to not be interested, but she was listening attentively.
“Yes, funny thing happened: she beat me within an inch of my life, and then proceeded to tell me that I deserved it for playing mind games with you.”
“Oh nooo! I’m sorry for that Tom.” Becky groaned- what was Tasha thinking?!
“Don’t be. After she relented, and I fled to safety in your arms, I knew she was right. Have the last few days been uncomfortable for you? Tell me, honestly.”
As he said those words, his toned softened, and he tenderly caressed her hands, enveloped by his own. Becky was momentarily lost as she felt a jolt of electricity upon his touch, and started to stroke his hands in kind as they sat in silence, not daring to look directly at the other. Then she relented, rather unceremoniously in her opinion, and revealed to him that she was confused about what he thought of her, and that even though she knew he wanted to keep things professional, somewhat, that the lines were getting blurred all the time. She didn’t want to be that girl, she wanted to be cool and not clingy, but she desperately wanted to feel him validate them with something more official than just a ‘sweetly professional arrangement’. At that point, her emotions were running high, her voice thick and her eyes were on the verge of tears, and Tom couldn’t stand it any longer: he needed to hold her tightly, to comfort her, to make her feel safe and cared for. While they were laying on the couch, he spoke to her, softly,
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
“Yes. But you’re my idiot, so it’s okay.” She sounded so adorable, and he struggled to find the right words.
“Please believe me, when I say that this arrangement was designed for our benefit, not just mine. Six months is the scientifically approved honeymoon phase, or something… I wanted to create an experience, a romance without bitterness or messy break ups, but perhaps that was just arrogance on my part- if there is no risk, then how can the rewards be worthwhile? As the old Chinese saying goes, a [relation]ship is safest in the harbour, but that’s not what it was made for. I’ve had one too many Titanics happen, and I just wanted to set sail on an adventure where everyone could return to port in one piece. Do you remember what you said to me, years ago, when we first met? You said that you’ve been burned in relationships, but you could get over them simple enough… how do you do it? Is it just something intrinsic to your being, that you’re strong enough to handle the end of something that had so much time and feeling invested into it?”
It was her turn to consider his words, and when she finally answered him, it was with a question.
“What would be your ideal romance, Tom? What kind of girl would be enough for you to consider having a proper relationship with?” His gaze grew introspective, and he chose his words carefully.
“I was waiting to meet a girl who could like me for me, and not just for power or success. But traits such as kindness and meta-awareness only appealed to a few, and never for very long. I told myself that when I meet that person who would fight to stay with me, the Real Me, and not the mask that hides my scars, then I will have achieved my ideal romance. I thought that maybe it could be you….”
She let that sink in for a while, and when she didn’t respond, he continued.
“You’re so beautiful, intelligent, and a very kind hearted girl. I’m attracted to those three qualities in a woman, but you’re the first girl who I’ve been sexually attracted to. I loved Naomi, and I was very fond of my ex-fiancé, but whatever it was that I felt for them, it doesn’t compare to how authentic and fulfilling our relationship is. And that fucking scares me, Becky. I’m terrified that if we do enter a real relationship, and I let my guard down completely, one day you’re not going to feel the same way about me. Which might be fine for you, because you can just get over me like you did with the others, especially that Wayne guy. But for me, everything I feel and experience, I remember it forever. That’s not just an exaggeration: I literally relive my entire life experiences again and again, and again. I’ve always called it my quantum memory, but there’s a psychological term for it, some variant of hyperthymesia or something like that. And even though it was brutal, I grew to accept that people can’t remember me in the same way that I remember them, that it’s almost like being surrounded by the senile and Alzheimer-afflicted! Plato said that we are all just watching shadows on a cave wall, until we venture forth into the light, and experience the sun. At that point, we are no longer satisfied watching shadows in the cave, but the unenlightened cannot understand that, and it’s part of why I feel so alienated. Tell me, what kind of normal person should have to deal with that? I’ve been doing my best to show you how much I care, even though I refused to define what that makes us, because maybe I don’t think that I’m going to matter all that much to you in a couple of years, except as a memory. If that’s the case, I wanted to craft the best vintage memory with you, to reminisce over fondly as you grow old with the person you’re meant to be with.”
“Tom, why do you have to make this so complicated!? We could date, and then later, if we break up, we could still remain friends… We don’t have to cut each other from our lives, you know?! I can’t see you ever cheating on me, or abusing me, or trying to make me feel like less of a person: in fact, you’ve been the opposite of all of that. So why wouldn’t I want to keep you in my life, huh?”
“Because you won’t know how you’d feel later, but I do, and it’d hurt. It’d hurt me so badly I’m not sure I wouldn’t be crippled again. Didn’t I ever tell you how I got these scars?”
It was a quote from Nolan’s, Batman: The Dark Knight by the film antagonist, the Joker, the man with the Glasgow grin. She looked into his eyes, and suddenly saw him more clearly, specifically what made him so dangerous. He was someone who was willing to ignore his own desires and wellbeing for something greater than himself. Others had taken his niceness for weakness, but they were wrong: he wasn’t a weak man, he had weaponised niceness, it was his choice and he could choose to stop at any point he wanted to. It took great self-control to ignore the constant slings and arrows of others, if she were to paraphrase Hamlet, and she did not envy the person who could make him lose his composure entirely.
Realising how much his mask had slipped, he regained his composure, with only his eyes betraying what he truly felt,
“Yeah, it’d hurt me, and I would grit my teeth and bear it, but I’m getting older, I’m finding myself less forgiving, just… less… After my last trip to Japan, I realised that my cultivation is inadequate, I am now capable of hating people to the point of wanting to torture them, and I could do a lot more harm if I keep flirting with these feelings. Logically, it wouldn’t make sense to keep courting disaster, so I wanted to simply indulge myself in a six-month perfect romance, and then I’m quitting relationships on a positive note. I’m healing, Becky, I’m healing from being me, and I have you to thank for that! Whatever you want, I would give you, as long as it’s good for you! Let’s just be rational, enjoy the time we have left and give ourselves the only attainable form of ‘happily ever after’, okay?”
She looked at him stiffly, and pulled away, before telling him in a pointed manner,
“Listen here, Thomas Kei, I am the only one who gets to tell me what is or isn’t good for me! Understand that? Don’t tell me how I’m supposed to feel: you don’t know that any more than I do! You’ve made a lot of very intellectual points, but you also made one big mistake- you brought Logic to a Feels fight, and I’m not backing down! Just tell me one thing, and be completely honest: In a perfect world, would people truly be happy if they never had to overcome anything that threatened that happiness?”
He hesitated, and swallowed hard, and he avoided her gaze, but eventually he faced her, and admitted,
“Real happiness is something that’s earned, not something that’s given. I’ve been happier with you than any other girl. When I’m with you, I don’t think about the Future, or the Past, I am simply content in the Present. That’s your gift to me, and I want you to know that.”
Her expression softened, and she fought back her emotions as she asked him something else, demanding to know,
“Is it because you keep thinking about her? Naomi. Is she the reason you don’t want to date me for real? I only ask because you just said that you can’t forget what you’ve experienced, so that must mean you think about her too, right?” With a sigh, he reponded slowly,
“Naomi… she was my ‘Osaka Sunset’, she was the ‘Osaka Moonlight’, and yes, when I spent time with her, I also stopped thinking so much about my own troubles- she had that effect on me too. You know, my last girlfriend, not my fiancé by the way, used to get mad at me for not being able to keep myself from worrying about all the stuff I needed to take care of, and she was probably right to dump me- it’s not like I was going anywhere in life, though she didn’t understand why. But I promise you this: I don’t think of Naomi, or any other girl, the way I think about you, or even at all, unles someone brings her up… Why would I? Nowadays, she’s as relevant to me as a figment of my imagination, especially compared to you! I can’t love someone that isn’t real, because my ideal Love should always be real.”
“Am I real to you?”
“Of course you are, more real than anything else, why do you even nee-” His eyes widened as she continued to look at him, and he realised that what he just said was tantamount to a confession. She broke into a smile as he blushed and uncomfortably looked away, but she held his hand, and drew in for a kiss, whispering before their lips touched,
“You’re real to me, too.”
They didn’t speak much for the next few moments as she held him tightly, and he held her even more tightly, before relaxing his embrace so that she could breathe more easily. Her next words were bold and assumptive,
“So, I guess this makes me your girlfriend now?” He responded with,
“No.”
She abruptly looked at him, shocked, but he grinned, in that smart alec way, and continued,
“It makes me your boyfriend. Even if I never said it, I’ve always considered you my girlfriend.”
When Tasha returned home, she saw them happily asleep on the couch, still clothed thankfully, and she felt proud of herself for saving the day. After helping herself to a can of pear cider, she quietly slipped into her room, toasting herself for being the best dating counsellor around.
Author Here: Wow, wasn’t this cathartic? I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but also- he said the thing! Osaka Sunset and Osaka Moonlight, which if you haven’t read, are what started this story., almost a different lifetime ago…
Chapter 19: Valentine’s Birthday, The Greatest Gift
Becky didn’t move in with Tom after all, because she no longer needed to be close to him physically in order to feel closer to him. The Buddha said that we speak softly when we are tender and loving with each other, but otherwise shout and scream when we are upset. He reasoned that when we become upset with each other, our hearts are as if they were on opposite sides of the shore, and we feel an instinctive urge to be loud, so that our voices may be heard. Their hearts were now in close proximity as they became a new couple, even making it Facebook official, much to the delight of their friends, especially Tasha, who had been walking around with a smug look for some reason Becky couldn’t fathom. Besides, in addition to her newly validated emotional state, the current apartment was much better for her work and study commutes, so it was just easier to keep their living arrangements the way they were. However, they had resumed training together at her gym, so she saw him quite regularly; he had purchased a membership, and the sales rep was prepared to give him a discount as he had been referred to by an existing patron.
“A few more, Becky, that’s my girl!”
She was doing some boxing exercises with him, and he had given her a drill which involved her lunging a little more than she was used to, in order to develop better use of her lower body power. It felt so nice to be working out with him, and she was proud to be showing off her boyfriend here, especially as he got a lot of looks from the other patrons. That poor boy who had tried to chat her up a while back looked crushed when he saw them training together, but had seemed to pick up somewhat when Tom walked past him doing some sets, and gave him an approving nod. There seemed to be an unspoken ‘nebrotiation’ as Tom put it, because the younger man was much friendlier and cheerful from that point onwards.
After they were done, they decided to grab a drink downstairs, with her grabbing a Berry Krush, and him choosing a Mango Fandango- Tom loved the name of his drink, and was glad it tasted good as well. While they were nice and relaxed, Becky decided to casually ask him something that had been on her mind for a while.
“Sooo, Tom, we’ve been going steady for a while now.”
“Uhum?” He slurping his drink in a very pronounced way that made him look like he was using a proboscis, but she found it cute and adorable as it made his soulful eyes seem bigger. Wait a second, was that how she looked when she gave him a blowjob? Was he mocking her without even being aware of it?! No, he was just being his usually playful, eccentric self, surely… Anyway, she continued,
“It’s Valentine’s Day next week, so I was wondering if you’ve made any plans yet? Because if not, I wanted to cook us dinner, at your place.What do you think?”
He swallowed, and was about to answer, but then his brows furrowed as he keeled over, clutching his forehead,
“Yaaarh, brain freeze, give me a sec!” Apparently, if one pressed their tongue to the roof of their mouth, it would mitigate this curious phenomenon. After a minute, he blinked several times, and seemed to be recovering.
‘Okay, I’m okay now. Sorry, what were you saying? Oh yeah, Valentines! Wow, this is the first time I’ve ever spent Valentines with a girlfriend, in the last decade or so. I used to love planning it, but to be honest, it’s incredibly sexy to have someone else do it for me.” He grinned, and she gave a him a look that suggested that he would be getting something else incredibly sexy for Valentines.
“Well, I do want to celebrate as a couple, but if you don’t mind, I want you to leave it all up to me. Would you mind staying out of your house from lunchtime until dinnertime that day?”
“Yeah, sure, a few of the guys wanted to take me out for my birthday anyway.” Becky’s eyes widened as she discovered that his birthday fell on Valentine’s Day.
“What? Are you serious, it’s your birthday too?! Gargh, how could you not say anything to me?”
“I’m sorry Becky, I’m still not used to the whole girlfriend thing, and I used to hate celebrating my birthday in the past. This will be the first one in a while that I’m actually looking forward to spending with someone!”
She bit her lip, and grew apprehensive- was what she had planned good enough for Valentine’s and his 31st birthday? He saw the look in her eye, and reassured her.
“Whatever you have planned, I’m sure it will be more than I deserve. Despite my taste in women, I’m actually a very simple man, so don’t ever think that I won’t appreciate what you do for me. In public, or in private.” He winked, and Becky let go of her anxieties, deciding that she would go ahead and give it her best shot.
A week later, after practicing and planning it over and over in her head, she turned up at his place in the early afternoon, and as expected, he wasn’t there. There was a lot to bring with her: the cooking ingredients, her gift, her outfit for later, and most importantly, her guitar. It wasn’t exactly difficult, as she had followed the recipes on Google more or less perfectly, and everything was ready by 6:30pm, when he was due back. Although he was late by a few minutes, he arrived to find his girlfriend waiting for him with a very special and sexy surprise. Firstly, she had prepared an Italian themed dinner, with pasta bolognaise, creamy mushroom gnocchi, and custom-made heart shaped potatoes, seasoned with herbs and roasted to crispy perfection in the oven. Secondly, she was rather scantily clad, wearing only light pink lingerie underneath her apron. She seemed bashful as he merely looked at her, stunned by her visage, and intrigued by the coyness with which she welcomed him home.
Becky was nervous, but felt strangely empowered by how affixed he was at her every movement. He adored the heart shaped potatoes, and ate almost all of her cooking with a dignified gusto, curiously and delighted with every bite. Suppressing a burp, he said,
“That was the best meal I’ve eaten here. Please send my compliments to the chef.”
She was overjoyed, and she giggled as he was unaware that he still had bolognaise sauce on the corner of his mouth. She dabbled at it, slowly as they intensely observed each other.
“Oh, speaking of compliments, here’s your gift. I hope you like it”.
She took a wrapped box, which he opened with almost surgical precision, and she watched as his curiosity titillated as he uncovered a glass cannister filled with home baked cookies. Reaching for one, he took a bite, and was surprised to find a small, laminated circle with writing within! Upon closer inspection, he saw that it read,
Your smile is brighter than the Sun at noon, so never stop smiling, handsome!
As realisation dawned on him, she couldn’t resist saying,
“They’re complimentary cookies, get it? Each of them have a different nice thing to say about you.”
“Damn it, Becky, don’t make me wife you! I’m sorely tempted right now!”
That comment was spoken in jest, and she was secretly enraptured, but she had one more gift in store for him. Leading him to the living room, she was aware that his gaze was focused on her lower regions as she made sure to sway her hips in an ever so pronounced manner. He noticed the guitar, and she motioned for him to take a seat, as she strummed her fingers along the strings, and gave a slower, acoustic rendition of Karma Chameleon.
“There’s a loving in your eyes all the way
If I listen to your lies, would you say
I’m a girl (a girl) without conviction
I’m a girl (a girl) who doesn’t know
How to sell (to sell) a contradiction
You come and go, you come and go
Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go
Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dreams
Red, gold, and green, red, gold, and green
Didn’t hear your wicked words every day
And you used to be so sweet I heard you say
That my love (my love) was an addiction
When we cling (we cling), our love is strong
When you go (you go), you’re gone forever
You string along, you string along
Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go
Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dreams
Red, Gold, and Green. Red. Gold. And Green.
Every day is like survival
You’re my lover, not my rival
Every day is like survival
You’re my lover, not my rival
Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon…”
Thomas listened to her angelic voice as if it were Heaven calling out to him, and he was suddenly able to do something he had avoided doing since he first chanced to meet Becky again, all those months ago: he fully opened his heart to her. His powerful mind, which had collated all of their shared experiences, etched them all into his psyche, making Becky a permanent lens for how he could potentially interact with the World, and how he lived his Life. Everything about her, her essence and charm and fierce determination to stand up for her convictions, all were so apparent to him now as he watched her showcase how much she cared for him. How much she had put up with to get this far with him. And how shallow his notions of a relationship were before he had gotten involved with her.
His study of metaphysics purported that ‘God’ is nothing more than the Ultimate Compounded Truth, something that was more real than Reality normally could be, and in this moment, she was the physical embodiment of that Truth he had been searching for. Maybe she wouldn’t always be that, it could be that this was merely a glimpse into the fabric of the Cosmos, but in this very moment, she demonstrated proof of a higher plane of existence. Because there was no other way that his imperfections could have seemingly melted away otherwise, as elation filled his very being, and his soul felt as cleansed and free as he ever recalled it could be.
She finished, and instead of applause, she was met with silence as Tom had closed his eyes, taking deep deliberate breaths. But she didn’t have time to wonder if her performance had sucked, because his eyes snapped open, and they looked at her as if he had never seen her before. Steadily, he got up, and approached her as she waited with baited breath for his review. There wasn’t anything that needed to be verbally said- he just passionately kissed her more deeply than he had ever done before, swept her off her feet, and began to walk them to his room. She ventured to speak, as he was doing so,
“Did- did you like it?”
He just smiled at her, with a look of pure ecstasy, and said,
“I loved it. I don’t know how I can find you so wholesomely beautiful, and be so turned on, at the same time. So instead of overthinking it, I want to give you my gift.”
In his room, there were two packages waiting for her. One was a flat box, and the other was a bulkier object of ambiguous shape. He handed her the box, which she unwrapped, and discovered the most exquisite silk kimono she had ever seen, a brilliantly hued piece of azure and vermillion embroidery, decorated with a raised stitched pattern of pink carnations. Removing her apron, he helped her put it on, and the smooth, sensual, volatile caress of the garment nearly drove her close to orgasm then and there. He softly kissed her neck, as she admired her reflection in his wardrobe mirror, telling her that she made a perfect Yamato Nadeshiko (epitome of Feminine beauty standards), and that Amaterasu would be driven mad with jealousy in her presence. Becky remembered the Shinto myth about how Amaterasu, the sun goddess, was tricked out of a cave by thinking her own reflection was a more beautiful goddess, and her ego could not have been stroked any further, or so she thought.
The second gift, when she unwrapped it, was a beautiful artificial miniature tree that has been crafted out of oak, wire, and various crystals/minerals. Adorned with agate and topaz, jade and onyx, as well as others she couldn’t identify, the most amazing thing about it was the several origami roses that adorned the stems. He explained,
“It’s traditional to give flowers on Valentine’s Day, but I don’t like the idea of giving you a bouquet of something that would wilt and die in a few days, even if you did know how to press and preserve flowers. So, instead, I made you this, with crystals and gemstones that are traditionally associated with different virtues, and there are also Kawasaki origami roses with a surprise- each one contains a poem I wrote specifically for you. I call it a “Poet Tree, featuring Poetry in Bloom”, get it?”
She smiled, at the wordplay, as well as because she was unbelievably touched that he had spent so much effort on this, just for her. Or possibly to make that pun- she wouldn’t put it past him.
“I love it Tom, but how am I supposed to read the poems when they’re folded up like that?”
“It’s a gift I made from my heart, which means that it wouldn’t be complete with a little mystery, right?” She looked so disappointed that he soon revealed how he had copied the poems to separate sheets, so she could read them whenever she liked. But right now, she wasn’t interested in the poems, but rather the poet who had composed them for her. As they were already in his bedroom, she pounced and started to smother him with kisses, as they both worked rapidly to get him undressed. Then he stopped, and she looked in disbelief as he said to her,
“Wait! I just want you to know, we don’t have to have sex, even though it’s my birthday, and Valentine’s Day, and I’m so very turned on by you right now.”
“That’s all well and good, but with all due regards, I want to have sex, so get nude already!”
“Okay!”
She giggled at how quickly he agreed to it, and realised that he wanted her all along, and he just wanted it to be her choice too. Once he was inside her she began to slowly grind against him, and breathlessly whispered,
“I hope you’ve enjoyed today so far, because it’s about to get a whole lot better, daddy.”
And it did.
Chapter 20: Praxis Umbra, Shibari and Insecurities
“We went a little wild, didn’t we?”
Becky was demure as she lay in bed with her boyfriend, donned in the silken gown she had received last night. The two had slept in- when they got up, they were too busy getting frisky with each other to leave the bed, until it was closer to noon.
“Best birthday/Valentines of my life, though I doubt I’ve ever woken up with these many scratches before.”
Becky blushed as she looked at her handiwork, as Tom’s back and chest were etched with her fingernail marks, the result of expressing her satisfaction throughout their lovemaking. In addition, his neck was covered with bruises from all her hickeys, and she herself was sporting reddish marks all along her butt and thighs as he had sexily spanked her for biting him, which she kept doing because she enjoyed both the crime and the punishment. She stretched, yawned, and decided that she should go and take a shower, where she discovered that he had also left her some hickeys on the side and underneath her boobs, and she felt rather content with how thoroughly they had claimed each other as their own.
He was in the kitchen, preparing some snacks for them, mainly fruit served with cheese toasties, and told her that he would like to take her out to a special bar later in the week- it was a kink club of sorts, with a very friendly vibe. He would drop her off home soon, and pick her up later so they could go together.
“They do bar food, the chef is wonderfully creative with flavours, so we can grab a bite there for dinner. But the atmosphere is very chilled and friendly, and they always do special events. That night, there’s a seminar on Shibari, ever heard of it?” Becky shook he head as he explained.
“Well, it’s essentially Japanese bondage, you know, those girls who are tied up with the red ropes? They demonstrate how it’s done, and people get to sketch models. I’m not much of an artist, but it would be a very fun night. Interested?”
“Yep! It sounds so cool! What’s the name?”
“It’s called Praxis Umbra, which roughly means ‘Shadow Academy’. It’d be nice to visit again.”
“Sound kinky. Have you gone very much before?”
She couldn’t help but be curious as to why someone like him would visit a place like that, but he explained that he used to visit to gain inspiration for poetry. According to him, there was nothing quite like a fresh, live, subject to really fire up the creative juices. When she asked if he could show her some of his works, he grew bashful, and said that he wasn’t very good, he just like being swept up in the process. Although it was faint, her insecurities began to whisper poisonous doubts about her own attractiveness, but she pushed it out of her mind. Didn’t he tell her that she was as stunning as goddess, and practically perfect wife material? Plus, she was happy to be doing something so edgy with him- provided it wasn’t just a fancy strip club, she would be fine to accompany him there.
Later that week, they turned up to a rather innocent looking building along a row of different businesses. It didn’t seem very large, until they walked inside, and she could see that it was at least three times bigger than what she perceived from the outside- was this something out of the Harry Potter Universe? Praxis Umbra was mainly divided into two major areas: the bar and lounge, where patrons could sit and order food or drinks, and the workshop, which was accessed by double doors that resembled huge swinging bookshelves! The whole motif of the place seemed to be hidden knowledge, occult secrets, and general thaumaturgy, as books (mostly encyclopaedias) adorned the walls, which was super stylish in Becky’s mind. However, paying more attention to the area, she realised that the décor was actually very clever and full of light-hearted jokes, especially the posters: One used an Alice in Wonderland theme and read ‘Who cares what passes for modern romance? Don’t worry prudes, just enjoy the dance!’ The bathrooms also had the typical Male/Female sign crossed out: patrons could use any they wished. Tom joked that girls had walked in on him before, but no one really minded, and it was quite an ice breaker to say that you met had someone in the bathrooms.
“Can I get you a drink? They always have such great names here. Hey Harry!”
The barkeep, who was presumably Harry, cheerfully nodded to Tom, and glided over to ask them what they wanted. Both requested the drink of the day, a supercharged concoction of caramel and chocolate biscuits blended into milkshake form, a testament to Harry’s mad genius. Tom also ordered a plate of nachos to share, topped with extra guacamole because avocado was currently the most eligible produce on the market. A gorgeous dark-haired woman in her late twenties walked over to the two of them, and introduced herself to Becky as Wendy, the proprietor, and wanted to speak to Tom about a submission he had made to their club newsletter,
“I saw your poetry, and I’m impressed! Thanks for submitting it, we’re going to print it in this month’s issue!”
Tom was overly humble and dismissed his work as just something he wanted to share with everyone who had welcomed him with open arms, and that the ambience of Praxis Umbra made it easy to whip up creative content.
“You know, if you come up with anything tonight for the rope jam, send it through and I’ll see if we can’t find space for it in the newsletter. Okay, you two enjoy yourselves, I’ve got to get back to running things, ta!”
Although he didn’t say anything, Tom was beaming with pride, as all artists are when they receive even a scrap of praise. Becky was curious about what Wendy was referring to, and Tom mentioned that he had come here for a special School Detention event with his pal Orlando, and had quite forgotten about it until now. He then asked, ever so modestly, if she would like to read his poem, which she eager accepted. It didn’t take long for him to open up the file, and then pass her his phone. She nibbled on the nachos while she perused his work.
~Detention in Wonderland~
“In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within dark woods where the straight way was lost.”
― Dante Alighieri, ‘Inferno’.
“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?”
― Lewis Carroll, ‘Through the Looking Glass’.
“New school, first day, text books, nervous smile,
A sea of fresh faces, I must remember their names,
But never forget: First Impressions always lie.
The Good Student does as bid,
We try our best to keep bad habits hid,
Sadly, I am in Detention from Day One!
Still, not all is lost, for in Praxis Umbra, learning is never dull!
Better still, an old school mate Scarrio shares my fate,
Surprised to find me here, but that he is here is no surprise.
He is my guide, so together we’ll roam uncharted terrain.
Come join this merry band, thick-as-thieves,
Indulge every once in a while.
Explore the playground of the soul,
Dance with hearts, find fellow like-minds,
Especially when it’s Detention time!
“Headmistress! Oh, Headmistress!”
I hear the chorus of my classmates ring in chord.
Summoning flowy robes garnished by classic mortarboard,
Strict and imposing, stoic face but a mask,
She strides to where the ruckus calls out,
To find that some have been breaking school rules,
And metes out ‘discipline’ to those upstarts.
Chewing gum, late for class, homework left undone?
You can bet that’s a paddling.
And if that’s not enough, you’re in for quite a shock!
Which none of us minded, though Scarrio’s quite unfazed.
A warning issued to us all, yet that does not deter,
These cheeky girls who invite me to join their game,
With snow-white shirts untucked, left half unbuttoned-
A high stakes gamble which leaves many ‘bust’,
Especially when they go all-in!
Bless them, for making sports so much fun.
Sadly, Scarrio’s timing is off, arriving just as the buttons go back up, somewhat.
Deprived of that prior delight, we continue with our Playground Tour.
The Good-in-Boots were minding their own business,
Enjoying specialty treats, chattering away,
Their prizes Marks of Pride for playing nice.
The Creative Scholars, occupied by their arts and crafts.
Marching to their own beats and tunes,
No one questions, we only need appreciate the process and the end result.
The Prep School Boys immaculately dressed,
Networking is a dream of their future success
“Uniforms dry-and-cleaned as Henderson’s Wit”,
Remarks Scarrio, Wildely sarcastic, of course.
Roaming, we think, how strange this place,
Bares us no borders in our Undisgrace.
Drinks are in order- we are joined by a new friend,
And in doing so discover she is resident Mama Bear.
Timing strikes as a young yelp resounds,
The culprit with her angelic features is cowed by reprimand,
Our headmistress does not believe in sparing the rod,
Our new companion relates:
“Those sweet babes are so bold to prove themselves,
But their tongue in cheek see another kind of cheek punished on their behalf,
Afterwards sore, and in dire need of my soothing aftercare,”
She bids us farewell, as we witness maternal instincts kick into overdrive.
Anachronistic texts adorned the wall décor as dictated,
Those faded relics of a long-ago age keep dear Scarrio fixated.
‘I am a man of duller mind that you, thus, dry or whet, I must grind my edge with any stones I find,”
He is a wiser man than many, and we indulge ourselves for a time.
Carrying on, at last our sentence carried out, and out the doors we feel so dissonant,
As Alice must have felt upon exiting her looking glass,
Where up is down, and flirting with Bad never felt so Good.
Scarrio and I, now in embrace of after-school burgers and fries
A tradition as old as Time!
Reflect on what it means to receive education in this modern age.
How fondly I’ll remember our school hood days,
Leaving me in such a Wonderland daze.”
She looked up when she was done, as he explained the event, and showed her pictures of that night, as he and Orlando had much fun with the various attractions. While she was pleased to hear him talk about what a great time they had, and that they got McDonald’s afterwards, she began to feel somewhat upset as she noticed how he seemed to enjoy himself too much with so many different patrons in the photos, dressed as school girls too… He looked especially handsome in his old school blazer, and she remembered how he had told her that he used to be quite the honour student, which was apparent from all the badges she counted on his lapels. Yes, both lapels were covered in medals and other accolades. It made her wonder if pictures were the only thing he shared with those girls- no, she couldn’t think like that, he had chosen her after all, and she refused to let those whispers ruin a good time with him.
Maybe that’s all you are to him. A good time. You never actually agreed to stay together after the six months were up. He only agreed to be your boyfriend, he never said for how long…
Shut Up! Shut Up! You’re wrong, keep it together Becky!
“Hey, I’ll introduce you to him one day! Orlando doesn’t talk much at first, but he sees more than most, and I know he’d want to meet you once he’s got more time on his hands. The guy has been obsessed with making money ever since I got back from the desert, so he doesn’t hang out as often as he should.” Tom smiled, unaware that she was feeling insecure. Looking at him, the terrible jealous thoughts dissipated as he said that he wanted to introduce her to an old friend down the line, which wasn’t the strongest indication of long-term aspirations, but it was definitely a step in that direction. She continued to sip her drink more comfortably.
Before long, they heard the announcements as staff told them to gather in the workshop, where the Shibari event was taking place. The two made their way with the rest of the patrons, and listened attentively as the models were bound with soft red ropes that formed an intricate pattern as they wrapped across the bodies of the guys and girls who were modelling for everyone tonight. Stacks of large paper and charcoal art supplies were provided for everyone to practice their drawing skills, and the production leader told them that it was important for newbies to practice general shapes first, and then focus on details. It was a very enjoyable activity, and she was getting the hang of it after the first model. Tom had wandered around the room, observing different displays, and seemed to be taking notes rather than illustrating.
“Is this your first time?”
She turned her head to see the cute Asian girl who sat next to her, smiling with extremely fetching brown eyes.
‘Yeah, hah, is it that obvious?” Glancing at the other girl’s sheet, she was amazed at how beautifully illustrated the model had been depicted.
“Oh, I wasn’t making a pass at your art, I just haven’t seen you here before. I’m Amy.”
“Becky. Do you come here a lot?”
“Oh yeah, this place is great. It’s so inviting and very accepting of everyone, it’s actually not that common to find such a watering hole in town. Have you been around to all the other kink places before?”
‘Oh no, it’s my first time at any place like this! My boyfriend’s been here before, and he also agrees that the vibe is so chill, I’m loving it so far!”
“Cool! Which one’s your boyfriend?”
Becky pointed out to Tom, and something flickered in Amy’s eyes.
“It was nice meeting you Becky, I’m going to go around and check the other models, catch ya!”
“Thanks, you too!”
Unlike Amy, Becky stayed at the current station, because she had wanted to get the shape of the model’s thighs just right- truth be told, Becky had a soft spot for a woman’s thighs, perhaps because Tasha had amazing legs, and she wanted to do her model some justice, as well as maybe being able to walk away from here later with something worthwhile to show Tasha. When she was satisfied, and reunited with Tom, one of the male models had agreed to be paddled, and everyone had a good time as the resounding whacks reinvigorated the energy of the room. She and Tom compared works, and she noted that while he had only drawn basic outlines of the models he observed, he had written poems for two of them.
~Maiden with the Autumn Hair~
“As scarlet ropes hold your figure,
I glimpse only your back,
For you do not turn around, nor look back.
That firmness of flesh that holds true to form,
Shallow breath unveils your hidden depths,
While hind-sight craves knotted embrace.
Helplessly bound, yet nevertheless,
Such Freedom found marks an empowered Soul.
And when at last, that sentence served,
Released, you turn, now face to face.
Your eyes, that smile, so heavenly bright,
Lovely as Sunrise, ushering the Dawn.”
~Raven Haired Beauty~
“Bounded Beauty, on display,
Thousand-fold stares do not dismay,
Your Porcelain dignity,
That inner steel.
Buxom pride, that spectacle gaze,
Trembles in pose, locked silent in time,
Breathing, abreast, heartbeats doth rise,
Exposed, avoid my eyes direct.
Those windows to the soul,
While curtains drawn,
Is bare suppleness akin to beauty clothed-
Your visage carries me to that midnight shore.”
She was impressed, but also strangely dismayed that he was able to create poems about those two girls seemingly on the fly, and she then asked him if he was inclined to write another on the spot, using just whatever was in his vicinity for inspiration. It had been meant as a hint, for him to compose something about her, but he seemed to miss the point as his attention focused on the guy who was being released from his bonds, who was jokingly complaining about how his arse was too sore to sit down at the moment, and she watched as he crafted something about a random stranger, while she just stood beside him, unsure of how to feel…
“So brash, the shock, a searing kiss,
My fever spikes with each sensual hiss,
I am in agony, but refuse to submit.
Though my tormentor relents not,
Though my body may break,
My spirit is unbroken, I am uncowed.
Each tryst leave me more twisted, distorted!
Thus, each moment is a delirium born from sufferings extreme,
A hinge loosens within my mind as the acceptance soothes,
And I embrace my Fate.
Now pain is akin to pleasure,
Unable to separate nor distinguish them,
The two have merged into one.
That burning kiss incites reckless glee,
Abandoning the former shell of Me,
As I explore my worldviews set ablaze,
Attracts my now admiring gaze,
There’s no one else here left to blame,
Can’t help but laugh, amidst the flames.”
“Needs a title though, Becky, what do you think I should call it?” He remained oblivious to her true thoughts.
“Oh, I dunno. You’ll think of something.”
She excused herself to get a drink from the bar, to clear her head over irrational thoughts. Really, two different girls, and a guy?! But she calmed herself, thinking that he had already composed a whole tree’s worth of poems for her, and that she shouldn’t be upset that he was expressing his talents. The girl from before, Amy, took a seat next to here, and asked her how she was doing.
“Oh, I’m fine, my boyfriend’s just composing poems about random people.”
Amy sensed what was the issue, and asked her whether or not he ever did anything like that for her, to which she replied,
“He’s so wonderful to me, and he’s written me a few poems already. It’s just, and I know it sounds stupid, but I kinda wish he would do it spontaneously, like he’s done for the others tonight.”
‘He’s a guy, they don’t realise how dumb they act. But you should talk to him about it, because I’m sure it’s just not on his radar, you feeling me Becky?”
She did feel a bit better, probably because she was able to talk this out rather than keep it in her head.
“Thanks Amy, you’re my new Oprah, haha!”
They continued to laugh and talk, and Amy also ordered a drink, and offered a sip to Becky. Feeling that it wouldn’t be polite to refuse, she did sample the drink, and noddingly approved of it. But, then, before she could swallow, Amy dove in, pecked her on the cheek, and slipped her a note. Confused, and unable to question what had happened with the beverage still in her mouth, Amy explained that she was polyamorous, and that if Becky ever wanted to try things from a lesbian perspective, she would just need to call her. Opening the note, she saw that it was an anime caricature of herself, with Amy’s number at the bottom. Becky swallowed, laughing nervously, and declined as she wasn’t even sure how ‘proper’ lesbian sex worked. Amy just winked and said,
“I could tell you, but trust me, it’s more fun if I show you.” She took that moment to leave Becky, as Tom approached from behind and hugged her.
“Hey, there you are! Wow, you’re rather flushed, how many drinks have you had tonight?”
“Not that many. Um, Tom, can we go?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m done, I don’t think I could pump out any more poems tonight anyway.”
They left, and the cool breeze as she stepped outside allowed her to clear her head a little. Tom then said,
“Maybe it’s my imagination, but I was getting some weird vibes from you. Is the place not to your liking? We never have to come back there, if you didn’t like it- I’m not particularly attached to the place either.” He smiled at her, trying to show support for her, and she decided to tell Tom about Amy’s advances: he just looked amused, and asked her if she would take up that offer. He didn’t seem mad, which made her somewhat.
“Someone hit on me, and you don’t even care!”
He looked rather hurt and taken aback at her outburst, and she immediately regretted it when she saw him transform his face into the mask that he hadn’t worn around her in recent times.
“I’m sorry, but do I need to be worried about some random lesbian chick you met tonight?”
“Of course not! But it just… “
‘It’s just what?” He looked baffled, but she felt that she had to explain herself,
“It’s just that, you were able to compose so many spontaneous poems about those models, but you’ve never done it for me. And when you didn’t take that Amy girl’s advances seriously, it made me wonder, do you not care that someone else might take me away? Are you still going to end things when we hit that six-month mark?”
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Tom looked so depressed as they made it back to the car, almost as if he was fading into the shadows, and she felt so bad for saying anything in the first place. As they got it, his eyes glistened, as he quietly answered her question,
“Do I fear that someone might snatch you away from me? At first, when we met, yes, all the time. Every time we went out, I was afraid I’d lose you. Either because someone would take you from me, or maybe you might just decide that I wasn’t right for you. But I kept telling myself, it’s okay, because our relationship was only meant to be temporary and professional. Sweetly professional. Maybe it should have stayed that way.”
Neither of them spoke, as he drove her home, and she didn’t know what to say. But he still walked her to the front door, and when she tried to kiss him, he seemed so distant, and would only kiss her on the forehead, before he slowly made it back to his car, and drove off. He didn’t look back, but she never looked away until he was far into the distance, out of sight, but not out of her mind.
Chapter 21: Goodbye Serenade, Titanic style
She looked at her phone, seeing the last interaction she had with Tom.
Her: I’m so sorry about what I said. Please forgive me 😦
Him: I’m glad you could speak your mind. Be safe, I’ll talk to you soon, promise.
That was a few days ago. She had tried to reach out to him, but he didn’t respond to her calls or her messages, and she was miserable as Tasha tried to console her.
“You’re not to blame Becky, you weren’t thinking straight, and that Asian skank was probably low-key messing with your head- you know the Girl Code, it’s always the other woman’s fault! Look, Tom’s probably just busy trying to do his own things, so you just gotta chill, and not lose your mind over every little detail!”
“It wasn’t that girl’s fault; this was totally on me! What if he thinks I’m not worth it? What if he chooses to break up with me because I was acting like some crazy psycho bitch?! You know, this week, it’s been six months since we met, and I’ve fallen for him harder than any guy before. We had a good thing, but I kept pushing for more and it seemed like everything was going to work out for the best. But now, maybe I’ve finally pushed my luck too far!”
Tasha would hear none of that as she reminded her friend that Tom had been in an unequal power position with her from the start, and that she wasn’t to blame for wanting some more transparency in their relationship. Becky defended him, by stating,
“He’s never once treated me badly or done anything to me without my consent. He looked after me when I was sick, he looked after you too! He likes learning about my interests, and he shows me stuff that he’s into. I don’t know what I was thinking when I acted like such a spoilt brat that night!”
“So you’re both idiots! Great, you deserve each other! Look, go over to his place, and demand to talk it out. Guys are so weird: whenever there’s drama they just want to hide out in their man caves instead of talking it out properly. Us girls are the ones with real balls in relationships- show him that you’re not going to give up without a fight! Win him over! Then tell me about it when you get back darling, because I enjoy our visits.”
Listening to Tasha was like listening to a pep talk from a general, and she was getting motivated, until she realised that Tasha was para-quoting from the movie, The Incredibles. Her angst vanished as they both burst out in laughter, and she was glad that her best friend knew how to get her out of her funk.
“Thanks Tasha. I needed that.”
Becky’s phone began to flash and alerted that she had an incoming call: it was him! She rushed over to her room where she could have some privacy, and accepted the call. She realised how much she had missed his voice when she heard him say,
“Hey, I’ve missed you princess. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve been really busy with something important.”
“Well, I am a very magnanimous and understanding princess, remember? So I guess I can pardon you.”
“Hah, cute. Listen, we need to talk in person, about something very important, and if you’re free tomorrow, I’d like to take you out for dinner so we can do it properly.”
She didn’t say anything as she mulled over the words, and their possible meaning. He continued talking,
“I have something to give you, something that I’ve been planning since we first started this whole arrangement months ago.” Her heart sank, but she maintained her composure,
“Well, if it has to be this way, then I understand.”
“I knew you would, it’s why I chose you. Are you okay with seafood?”
“Yeah, but hang on, you’re not, isn’t that right?”
“Well, just the crustaceans, but I’m not going to let it get in the way of this. That would be rather shellfish of me.”
She laughed. It was corny, but it was one of those many things that she loved about him,
“You’ve used that one so many times on me, Tom. I’ll miss it.”
“No one misses bad puns. I’ll see you tomorrow, 6pm.”
‘Okay, see you then.”
He hung up, and she sighed deeply. Sensing something outside her door, she called out,
“Tasha, I know you’re there! Come in, I need to pick something appropriate to say goodbye in.”
The next day, Becky barely ate anything as she didn’t have much of an appetite, and just wandered around the home, trying not to be reminded of Tom. But even some of her clothes smelled like him, so she found it difficult to think of anything else. Soon it was time, and rather than wait for him to come upstairs, she had waited for him downstairs. He smiled when he caught sight of her, and his eyes looked more relaxed as he properly took in her appearance,
‘Hey. You look simply ravishing.”
She was wearing a gorgeous white dress with a mahogany-hued coat, and saw that he was dressed in black formal wear, garnished with a burgundy tie, as he was wont to do. They drove to the harbour of all places, and she was so surprised to see that he had booked them dinner at an evening cruise! This was so extravagant that she forgot that it was meant to be a sad occasion, and couldn’t help but grow excited as they hopped aboard.
It was more of a ferry that managed to house a restaurant, with a wooden stage featuring a live orchestral band. Everyone sat down for dinner, which was a five-course meal that forewent the need for menus, and the ship set off from the jetty- it would back before midnight. Dinner was an enjoyable affair, though the two barely did anything more than taste their food- it appeared that both had a lot on their minds. She forced herself to take extra bites, because he had gone to the effort of this for her, but he was deep in thought and she was pretty certain he also had other things on his mind.
Afterwards, the dining area was cleared, and the patrons went outside to enjoy the unbridled ocean breeze. Finally, they could actually talk about serious matters, as they found an ideal spot where they could see the twinkling of the shoreline, as well as the vast dark horizon of the far ocean. It was a clear night, full of stars that adorned the heavens as a waning moon dimly illuminated the sky. In Becky’s mind, she bitterly mused that it was almost too perfect for a break-up. He decided it was time to begin the talk.
“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about us. You’re so clever, I won’t insult you by saying that I wasn’t affected by what you told me that night.”
She waited with baited breath, as he continued,
“It made me realise a lot of things about what I wanted, as well as what’s fair for the both of us. But instead of trying to tell you, I wanted to show you, the way you showed me.” He took out something that rattled from his pocket, a small case with something inside. It was a silver harmonica, and she watched him as he took a few breaths the steady his nerves, licking his lips, before he began to play.
A/N: The following are tabs for a diatonic harmonica, (-) indicates sucking, otherwise one would blow out. As there is no need to indicate any bending techniques for the purposes of this story, the following are just barebone simple tabs.
-6 6 -5 -5 -4 -4 4 -5 -6 6
Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee
-6 6 -5 -5 -4 -4 4-5 5 6 -5
E’en though it be a cross, That rais-eth me
7 -8 7 7 -6 7 7 -8 7 7 -6 6
Still all my song shall be Nearer my god to thee
-6 6 -5 -5 -4 -4 4-5 5 6 -5
Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee
As she listened, her eyes widened as she recalled that it was the song from the Titanic, Nearer My God to Thee, which was what the musicians played as the ship sank. He was serenading her with something so very appropriate… The end of their relationship was taking place on an aquatic vessel, with a song from her favourite movie.
But then, as he finished, and smiled, she soon realised that it wasn’t a break up song, but the opposite! True, Nearer My God to Thee had been played as the mighty vessel sank, but it was played by those who refused to give up hope, and were determined to stick it out through to the very end. There was nothing defeatist about it! Putting away his instrument, he embraced her tenderly, saying,
“I’ve told you that I picked the harmonica for a special reason: it’s the only instrument I’ve heard that can truly express despair. Not sadness, no, that can be expressed very beautifully by classical and jazz instruments alike. But the harmonica has a certain quality to it, one that can almost laugh at itself in the darkest hours, and I had originally planned this for when our time ended, because I wanted you to know something. I wanted you to know that I would be so terribly forlorn and anguished if we were no longer together. So, I tried to fight how I felt for you, for us, until your courage made us a real couple, despite my misgivings about the future. My ideal romance is one where you would fight for the real me, which you have done time and time again. So, I also want you to know that I’ll fight for you, always, until you tell me not to. And even then, I’d still fight for you, because I’m weird like that. Tell me, would you like to start fresh, as a proper no-strings-attached couple? Even if relationships are complicated and awkward and messy, I want to experience it all with you. Maybe we won’t last forever, maybe we will, but when we are together, I can feel myself basking in moments of Eternity, lost in a timeless romance.”
He kissed her, and held her tightly, as if he would never let go. He did, eventually, because they couldn’t very well stay like that for eternity, no matter how romantic it sounded. She admitted,
“When you invited me out tonight, I totally expected you to break up with me. Instead, you affirm everything we’ve ever felt for each other, and more. I don’t know what to say, except that I love you, Thomas.” He had that mischievous look in his eyes as he grinned,
“Break up with you? I’m eccentric, not crazy! And I love you too, Becky.”
It was a beautiful moment, when they both finally said those words which had been expressed in a myriad of ways since they had met.
“Ahem!”
They both turned to see one of the staff members looking very embarrassed, but he was there to inform them that the ballroom (previously the dining room) was now open, and the guests were to make their way back inside.
“No problems, just give me a few seconds to wrap this up!”
The guard nodded and granted Tom that concession. As he turned around, Tom took out something from his pocket, a jewellery box! But Becky’s imagination was quelled when she realised that it didn’t house a ring, thankfully, which would have been a bit much even for him. He asked her to turn around and face the ocean as he took out a sapphire crystal heart on a silver chain, which he slipped around her neck. While the gem was very pretty, it was the symbolic significance that made her heart thud as she fell even more deeply in love with him, and all those quirky, elaborate gestures with which he expressed his truest feelings.
“Just don’t throw it away into the ocean depths, like Rose did in Titanic, please- I have the receipt if you don’t like it.”
Her voice was thick with emotion, and she was crying somewhat, but not tears of sadness,
“Oh Tom… this is so… I just can’t believe … if we went overboard, I’d definitely share the door with you- I wouldn’t hog it like some other woman who let her lover freeze to death in the waters!”
“I’m so glad you feel that way, because, just between you and me, I can’t swim.”
She turned around now, clinging to him tightly, teasing him,
“So, you do a have a weakness after all, Superman.”
“Water may be a nuisance, but you’re my only kryptonite, Becky. Plus, a real captain goes down with his ship.”
She told him with absolute one hundred perfect certainty,
“This relationship isn’t sinking, ever. So, unless you wanna roleplay as the captain while I’m the Titanic, you’re not going down anywhere, either.”
“You know, I recall at the start of this that you swore you would make me feel human again.”
“That’s right. Did I win?”
“I want to say yes, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve lost.”
“That’s because there are no losers in Love, Tom.”
“And you said you’d never make a good philosopher!”
Laughing, they left it at that, and went back inside before another guard came to ruin the moment. Everybody was already swaying to romantic music, and they joined in the dance just as the band played an iconic song, My Heart Will Go On, commonly known as the Titanic theme. Eventually, the ship safely pulled back into the harbour, where no one drowned or froze to death. A good night, as far as everybody was concerned. Instead of going back to her place, they spent the night at Tom’s, because he was still swept up in the Titanic theme of the evening, and he wanted to compose for her ‘like one of his Shibari girls’.
As she was being tied up in black and red nylon ropes, blindfolded, with her mouth gagged by the same ball they had used in their private film, which had remained unedited, Thomas drank in the very sight of her scintillating body, bound, but far from powerless, radiating confidence and complete trust in him. Feeling so inspired by his muse, he couldn’t help but compose a special poem for her: it was a poem he had been working on ever since he had seen her again, but never completed because it wasn’t quite perfect enough, until now.
~Ego and Eccentricity~
How I love you so,
But there are no words to say it,
Nor any tribute or gesture that may match your grace.
But I could say,
How I adore you so,
By your virtuous soul, your vivacious charm,
And in my nightly dreams, I see your heavenly face.
How best to describe, your sensuous side,
When you yourself, so fierce and strong,
Adamant that I should not falter, nor despair,
That you may nourish me with your loving care,
That my strength needs not renew,
As naked limbs of the Deciduous,
Nourished by Loveliness in You,
And thusly, I remain Evergreen.
Waters that keep our ship afloat may yet try to drown us,
Yet such risks are oft and apt abound,
When we strive to find standards, elevated,
That bolsters our convictions to weather such storms.
So, with you, I propose we traverse the very stars,
Upon an interstellar ship made from Earth,
You are my siren and my muse, guide me by thy silent cosmic hues, remind me what I’d stand to lose,
If I ever gave up on Us.
You are so real, surreal, that I am forced to admit,
I was but falsehood in the shadows,
Seeking solace in the light of your Verity.
Our Form and Essence merge,
Forms that Essence,
Of Our Ego and Eccentricity.
When he had finished, Becky felt as if she would melt away with how he expressed his adulation for her, if it weren’t for the ropes holding her figure in place. It was supremely erotic to be in her position, but this wasn’t all he had in store for her.
“Becky, I’m going to use some toys on you now. If you want me to stop, just tell me the safe word.”
As she heard him take out a few accessories, a few which were definitely electronic, she realised that he hadn’t taken out her ball gag, so even if she knew what the safe word was, she couldn’t utter it. But she didn’t mind. Her body writhed in ecstasy as he played with her, gently then vigorously stimulated her in such a satisfying plethora of ways; she indicated that she wished to be untied, and he delicately released her constraints. Wrapping her arms around him, she felt adventurous, and shoved him on the bed, where he entered her, and at that point she began to clutch his neck as tight as she could; not to hurt him, but to demonstrate how she desired him so. Feeling how she was expertly choking him, the correct way of course, which involves pressing the sides and not on the windpipe, he felt even more turned on, as she whispered to him,
“So, what’s the safe word, daddy?”
“I’m not going to tell you, I’m enjoying this too much.”
“Oh you! You know, I’ve been thinking about what that Amy girl said, and while I’m not interested in her offer, I think I may be open to exploring my bisexuality, if you’re up for that.” She felt him twitch inside her, which was an interesting note to file away for later. Tom looked at her rather keenly,
“Oooh, you have an even sexier side to you? Please, tell me more. Talk about it as much as you like, but don’t stop what you’re doing either, it’s strangely comforting to have you on top, choking me like this. The view isn’t bad either.”
She playfully slapped his chest, reprimanding him for thinking that she would go so far as to share him, even for a moment, and explained that maybe she wouldn’t mind if they went to erotic shows together, to appreciate the bare female form. From a very cultured standpoint, of course. He stroked her face, caressing her gently, and said,
“I’m glad we’re both on the same page about this- I don’t think I could even get hard for another girl, I’m just that kind of cultured gentleman. Speaking of which, I’d better immerse myself in more of said culture.”
She let out a soft gasp as he pulled her in and started to nuzzle between her ample cleavage. But she wasn’t about to lose control of the rhythm that easily, asking him,
“Well, we have a lot to talk about tomorrow, so I won’t choke you too hard. But, tell me, just out of interest, what is the safe word?”
Rather amusedly, he locked eyes with her, then blinked slowly, and with a contented look said,
“It’s the only thing appropriate for our modern fairy tale: ‘Happily Ever After’.”
Her heart fluttered, hearing those words, and she felt so validated that she began to completely merge herself into him, their minds, bodies, and spirits becoming one as they continued their intense rhythm. In a voiceless, whispering way that he found so arousing, she breathed out to him,
“That’s a good safe word. But not as good as how I’m going to make you feel, Thomas Kei.”
She was right, of course, her Ego demanded it. But he loved every second of it, seeing as how he was prone to such Eccentricity. Together, they celebrated a new beginning that night, and never looked back.
Epilogue: A Letter from Jake.
My humblest respects to Kei Shifu, my Daishi-sama!
Nah, I’m just playing around with ya Tom!
I was so happy to hear that Becky moved in with you recently, and although you haven’t been very forthcoming about the details, the others have told me that you two are such a dynamic power-couple, so I’m guessing that the sex must be amazing, huh? In my mind, getting a kitten for your place was a great idea- you can’t have too much pussy in the household.
Forgive me for not getting in touch lately, I’ve been very busy with my work at the school. Man, can you believe how much the Japanese work culture impacts on one’s personal life? I am adamant that I will not lose my soul to the machine that has enslaved Japanese society. Otherwise, I simply love it here!
My assigned school is located near Kobe, which I think you said you’ve visited before? It’s a less metropolitan area of Japan, but If I ever wanted to dive back into the hustle and bustle of city life, I’d just go to Kobe, or better yet, Osaka/Umeda. There is an amazing scenic bamboo forest which I pass by every morning when I walk to school- you’d love it, it’s so serene and I bet we could even make some epic movies in there!
But, despite how wonderful everything is, and how adorable the students are, especially when they try to pronounce tongue twisters, I really am missing the company we used to have back home. My Japanese is getting better all the time, and I am even getting good at recognising the different forms of Kanji and Hiragana! But still, I do feel rather lonely at times, because I’ve yet to become fluent in the language, and there’s not a lot of new friends due to how isolated everyone has become due to Crown Virus…
Anyway, since I am getting restless, as there’s no local dojos for me to visit, and I really don’t wanna have to travel too far by public transport, how would you like to come by and visit me? My birthday is coming up, and I’m sure Becky can do without you for a while, but if she can’t, it’s not like she’s not the boss of you anyway, Master!
The school provided me with a very large and spacious flat, which is unfortunately not being used to the fullest potential as I am too busy teaching and training in order to bring over any nice girls… it’s times like these that I wish I didn’t break up with Soo Jung, she was a warm body even if her heart and blood were cold- I’m just kidding of course. (Or am I?)
We could train early as well as late, when I finish with classes, and I know that the school would be delighted to meet my master of both philosophy and internal martial arts. In fact, I will challenge you to a death match the moment you land in my neighbourhood- please don’t kill me, I have improved but I don’t know if I can match your sophisticated internal cultivation at my level!
What do you say, wanna come and watch the sunrise in Osaka? I know you said that you never wanted to return to Japan, but I think we could make an unforgettable adventure out of it, and you won’t need to worry about money or living expenses when you visit- sorry, IF you visit, lol. You always insist on paying, but in Japan, I will be your host, and sometimes, I might even be as generous as you!
Hope to hear from you soon,
Your diligent disciple,
Jake.
PS- If you are visiting, please assist me by picking up a bunch of stuff my parents have been meaning to send me, and maybe a few home luxuries too.
PPS- I’m glad you and Becky are still happily together. She added me on Facebook a while back, and you’re right, she’s super smart and a lovely girl. Hopefully she won’t mind if I borrow you for a month, or three!
REAL Epilogue Chapter- A Meta within Meta
It was getting late, and Becky looked over at the stack of pages that her boyfriend had given her for their anniversary… Wow, just… wow… It felt surreal to see their relationship on paper, touched up a little with good lighting and camera angles, maybe a tasteful dose of make-up, but for all intents and purposes, it was all there. Even the title, “Ego and Eccentricity” was a nod to their in-joke about being a Jane Austen couple…
BUT- was that letter to Jake, his young friend in Japan, meant to be included?!
Was it some sort of infamous subtle hint of his, maybe related to how much his friend approved of her, or could it perhaps be leading up to a trip to Japan?!
Sometimes a nervous twitch is just a nervous twitch… right?
Staring aimlessly, she flicked through the pages over and over, meandering and ruminating and just stewing in a complex deluge of emotions. Eventually, she glanced over in the mirror, tucking her chestnut hued strands behind her ear, pulled back her stained (comfortable) evening sweater to scrutinise over her bust size, wondering if the Becky depicted in this story, this “Ego and Eccentricity”, was how Tom saw her all the time. If so, it was definitely flattering, but she still wasn’t sure how to feel.
It was well-written. Almost too good for an amateur, but Tom had always been a wordsmith. And for all intents and purposes, it was factual. A little _too_ factual. She was worried if he had given anyone else a copy, or if he intended to do so. Probably not: the note said that it was an anniversary present for her eyes only, and he would treat her to a proper dinner and show once he got back from his business conference. However, and this was a big however- she wasn’t supposed to have read this yet… she had been innocently tidying his part of their shared wardrobe and found the box; it wasn’t wrapped, as he never wrapped gifts unless it was necessary, claiming that people could reuse gift bags and present boxes if there weren’t any marking or tape on them… apparently Thomas Kei did not think it weird to be able to reuse such commodities!
So what, if she had seen his gift to her a little early? But now she wanted to question him on certain aspects of the story, and she couldn’t because she wasn’t meant to have any inkling of it yet! In fact, when she saw it, she thought that maybe she would read a page or two, get over the appreciation of the story, and just put it back with no one the wiser, but before long she had gone through several chapters, half a bottle of wine, and an entire bar of dark chocolate. Luckily it was a Saturday, and she could recharge tomorrow, as her entire day had been spent immersed in her boyfriend’s kinky recount of their entire year together… She wasn’t even mad or embarrassed about how he wrote about their actual sexcapades, but still, the novel was so perturbing to her simply because it revealed a lot of what was going on inside Tom’s head. Quite a bit more than he’d normally let on. She loved him, but he was still such a mystery to her, even after a year of being together… but he knew her well enough to create an expy of her via erotic faction! Maybe she just wasn’t putting in the effort?!
A buzz from the nearby phone on the nightstand drew attention away from her boyfriend’s gift, only to remind her of him when she unlocked it- the background picture was of them together from that time they saw Wicked with his friends. The message was also from him- just a meme. He liked sending memes to her, and everyone else according to their mutual friends. While she found it a little annoying at times, especially when he would get into a spamming mood, she always hearted and reacted to everything he sent her. This meme in particular? A joke about couples who were co-dependant, fretting over even a split second of separation… she laughed reacted to it, and texted him that she was going to be in the shower, something she had put off until now.
The shower was nice at their place. Or rather, his place, as she looked around and recalled the vivid imagery of when they had first taken a bath together, and if she wasn’t so fatigued from reading an entire novel in one sitting, she would have enjoyed a bath tonight. No, a shower was better, quicker, saved water, and helped her process things mentally as well as emotionally. With a sigh, as the jets of steamy hot water massaged her head and trickled down to her legs, she realised that she was perhaps feeling a little frustrated because reading “Ego and Eccentricity” has put her in the mood for something that she couldn’t indulge in until her boyfriend got back in a few days… but she was patient, and could wait, and she would make up for lost time after she picked him up from the airport.
After getting out, and briskly towelling herself reasonably dry, she returned to the bedroom and collapsed into their bed. Becky picked up the manuscript once again, and thought to herself, with a private smile, “You’re such a tease, Tom. But that’s okay, because you’re my tease, and I’ll still pretend to be surprised when you officially give this to me next week.” Her body felt strangely at peace but also brimming with a latent excitement, as she drifted off to sleep while imagining that the pillow in her arms was Tom, maybe because it was Tom’s and she imagined that she could still smell him on it. After several deep breaths, her breathing eventually settled into a lighter rhythm, and she fell asleep thinking about how wonderful it was to be loved by someone she loved in turn.
The End.
Relax, ‘Slut’ means finished/done in Swedish- I’m telling you that this story is finished!
Author Here: Keep in mind that Becky read the uncensored story, and as such, she may have been more affected by reading about her boyfriend’s recap of their sex life.
Wanna read more about their relationship? It’ll be in my rom-com/modern-fiction style- sorry if you wanted another parody! Their story continues in “Zen and Sensuality”, which is a proper canon in the Osakaverse novels. Of course, at the time of writing this, that aforementioned novel has yet to be completed.
See you then!
By the shopping mall artist, who drew Becky as a blonde, and tried their best to make Tom handsome!
In real life, the delightful cover was inspired by a fan submission, which later became the cover design for ‘Ego and Eccentricity’. It is also the cover for the in-universe copy that Becky was reading.
Solosopher & Solosophy 