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…she sat by the table overlooking the street filled with yuppies on their way home. They looked just like him, fresh, neat and clean – even at this time of the night. She glanced back to the counter, her eyes turned towards him who is still waiting for his nightly coffee. Black – just the he wants it.

There’s no hurry. She already had her iced soda in her hand. Cold and sweet, she held the perspiring cup with both palms.

It’s been two weeks since they first met. It all started between the glassed counter. She had a slight headache, but his face on the other side took it away. A simple, non-suggestive glance, eventually turned to frequent peers and ganders.  He wrote his number on a notepad and gave it to her. With trembling hands, she did the same.

Immediately after he left, her mobile phone cried out: Dinner?

And the rest was history.

Oh, a history indeed. Those full two weeks were unforgettable for someone who never had the experience. Each little crossroad of choices (like looking for a quiet restaurant, or deciding which movie to watch) was a new adventure for her. She gave in to him, without much hesitations. Gave him the kisses he asked and the attention he demanded.

And why not? Those eyes that gave out signals of affection that she had been craving for, since her days in the Nunnery, imprisoned her twenty-four hours a day. His touches, like stone, taught her how care can be tough, yet gentle. And his scent; oh! crisp and musk in her hands (from holding her for hours), put her down to sleep for the past fourteen days.

He had the spark of a flash, the warmth of a neon, and the tenacity of a million Spartan soldiers. In the past few days, his manhood raced a thousand miles and brought her along with it.  His glowing diligence gave life to that dying ember of hers. He was her guide, her hope, her trust, her heart. No other light in the world can ever give her the same magnificence.

He took the coffee from the counter-girl in green and black. Slowly, he walked toward her table and sat across her. She took a sip of the iced-soda in her hands, and he carefully sipped his coffee too.

And then, silence.

She had waited for hours just to see him that night. A long wait since the end of her shift is nothing ,compared to the ecstasy of seeing him right across that coffee table.

She wiped her right palm on her lap and reached for his right hand that was on the table. She wanted that smell of him on her palms tonight.

He looked at her, surprised. Immediately, he placed his hand back to his disposable cup and glanced at his back, checking for spying eyes.

“We can’t do this. Not here,” he whispered.

She retreated her hand. “Why?” she asked.

He brushed his hair, and straightened his collar, looked at her and said, “you’re too fast.”

Fast? For the past fourteen days, they were much faster than this.

“We must take it slowly.”

“I don’t understand.” She frowned.

He stood up, brushing his thighs and straightening his collar. “My shift starts at 12.”

She looked him in the eye, warm blood suddenly gushed to her head. “Mine ended at 3.”

He looked at her quizzically as he reached for his bag. “I did not tell you to wait for me,” he answered back.

Geminis. Those two-faced creatures of the wind, are just as unpredictable for Tauruses like her.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“We shall,” she said firmly.

He watched him walk his way outside the glass doors, looking back once in a while, checking if she’s following him.

Which she did.

Telling her to keep calm, the cold winds of the approaching midnight brushed her hair ever so gently. Whatever happened to those warm nights, she probably wouldn’t know. Not this evening. She followed his pace, clinging to that adorable scent of musk and perfection.

She saw him enter the building, two faceless guards closing the doors behind him.

She was left alone outside. Bewildered and confused, she made a mental list of what to do. Should she call him, ask him what’s wrong? Ignore the night and simply wait for him again tomorrow? Or stand there until the sun rises and see if the evening frowns will change to tomorrow’s smiles? A headache began to throb softly at her temples.

And then darkness.

She turned back. That’s what she did. Taking pleasures on the cold crisp the breeze had offered her, she walked away and hailed a jeepney bound to San Andres, leaving the steps of that old abandoned building along Avenida.

Tags : fictionlifescooprandom
Orly S. Agawin

The author Orly S. Agawin

Orly has been writing for The Jellicle Blog since 2008. He is a training and development consultant by day and an art enthusiast by night. He lives in Parañaque with his mom.

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