Paid Love

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Fiction



DISCLAIMER: Although some things were borne out of the writer's imagination, certain events may have transpired and resemblances to actual events, people, and places can exist.



Christian and I were lounging in his bed, talking about the trip we were planning next month to Cambodia. It was one of my favorite moments with him; watching him as his face become animated and his gestures get bigger and bigger.

That's what I have always loved about him, his fascination and eagerness for life. At 35, he at times seemed no more than a boy. Though life had dealt him its own fair share of joys and sorrows, it never seemed to have aged him. Unlike me. I always say the years are heavy on my back. The years are heavy on my back.

"You know what? They say there's a river near Siem Reap where we can see carvings made by monks in the riverbed more than a thousand years ago," he told me, his eyes widening as if he can't believe what he himself just said.

"Really? And they haven't faded away?" I asked.

"It seems they haven't completely. You can still see the faint outlines of Hindu gods and creatures. Isn't that amazing?" he replied, shaking his head.

"We should do that," I told him. "It sounds gorgeous. Plus we probably will be tired from all the temples. A river would be a nice distraction."

It was getting late and I needed to wake up early for work tomorrow.

"Hey love, I have to go," I said. I got up and started packing my things. "It's almost bed time."

"Noooooooooooooooooo," he said, pulling me back to bed. "Stay here with me." He started kissing my neck and pinned me to the bed.

"I can't. I left some papers at home and I need them for a presentation tomorrow," I told him. His lips felt so good and I loved the way his body felt next to mine. It was hard to resist.

"Pleaseeeeee?" he begged.

I looked at him and those big wide eyes. "I would love to but… I can't." He nodded but he was quiet, downcast. "How about if I leave you a present?"

"What kind?"

"The good kind," I said, smiling mischievously. "I want you to lie there and close your eyes. You don't have to do anything. I want you to pretend I'm a paid hooker you picked up for some nice blowjob. When you're done, I'll just slip quietly away."

"Well … you know … I always had a thing for hookers," he replied. The lights went out.



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Paris, France
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Sade & Masoch (S&M) (For Adults Only)

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Fiction



DISCLAIMER: Although some things were borne out of the writer's imagination, certain events may have transpired and resemblances to actual events, people, and places can exist.



There was a knock on the door. "Come in," I said. Eva slowly entered the room. She was dressed in a black dress, with stockings and high-heeled shoes, just liked I said. We had met at a party weeks ago. She was beautiful; a lawyer with a loving husband and two kids, but she was here today because she wanted something only I could give.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the sofa.

I finished signing the papers on my desk and let the silence fill the room. When I was done, I approached her. She's sitting very straight, with her knees together. Very slowly, I unbuttoned her shirt. It was her first time and I was going to break her in.

Training a new pet is always entertaining. There is nothing like the first time, as they say. You have to exert absolute control over them; they speak only if you allow it. There is always the thrill of seeing how far they will go, how much they will give up... for you. You are God, and your every wish is their command.

I took Eva's hand and our skins touched. I knew she was nervous and excited and afraid. I squeeze her fingers. I know she wants to kiss me but she wouldn't dare. I know she wants me to kiss her but I won't. I reach out and touch the back of her neck. I let my hand glide down her throat and over her breast, and along the curve of her hip down to her legs.

I lifted her dress above her stockings. I take a step back and I see that Eva was sitting very still, rigid, and her knees were still together.

"Open."

She was startled by my voice.

"Open your legs," I said, my voice getting harder. "Obey now. Or leave."

She finally obeyed. I stared at her for awhile before I finally walked up to her. I knelt down before her spread legs, reached out and touched the black lace covering her swelling cunt. I stroke the fabric with precision.

I stopped, and pulled her up to stand. I turned her around, and instinctively she arched her back.

"Good," I said. "You look beautiful that way."

I removed my tie and placed it over her eyes. "Nobody has ever treated you as I'm going to treat you."

Eva tried to touch me inside my pants. I slapped her hand away. "If you prove youself to be a good pet, then I may perhaps one day let you touch me and suck me. And if I am pleased with you, I may fuck you."

I stepped out and left her standing, instructing her not to move.



When I came back, she was still standing, not moving. Eva heard me come in and stretched out her hand to me.

"No. Hands behind your back." She obeyed. "Now, concentrate on what I'm going to do to you. I am going to drive you crazy."

"You will forever look for this. You will wait for me to call you; you'll pray for me to call you, you'll come right away and do everything I say," I continued. "You'll need me. You'll never again have an orgasm without thinking of me."

I turned her around to face the table and pressed her face against the wood. I opened a tube of lubricant and poured it into her anus. I inserted a toy that I like to use inside her.

"Don't move." I lifted her so she can face me. I forced her to sit on the table, with the toy still inside her ass. "You're a bit narrow. I need to make you wider."

Eva was trying not to put her weight on the table and instead, was supporting her body with her hands and thighs.

"Open your legs." I pulled some chairs and put them in front oh her. "Now, put your feet on these chairs." With her thighs as far apart as they can go, she is forced to shift her weight backward. The toy sinks into her.

"That's good, you need widening. Lean on it. Butt-fuck yourself."

Eva clutched the edge of the table and I could see she was trying to shift some of her weight into her hands.

"Hands behind your back." She put her hands behind her back, but I could see she was still trying to lean on them. I grab her hair and pushed her down, and the toy went in her completely.

I tied her wrists with a piece of cloth, so that she was handcuffed, blindfolded while spread eagled on a table with a toy inside her. I push her panties aside and lightly touch her cunt. I stick my forefinger inside, take it out, then raise it to her mouth. "You're soaking wet," I said."Suck it."

She sucks my damp finger. I began to suck on her clitoris, my tongue tender and rough, burrowing inside her, and my fingers move with increasing force together with small then bigger flicks on my tongue.

I suck, tease, finger, stop and start again. Her moans were getting louder and louder. Her back arched, and her body went rigid and I knew she was near. Her cunt reaches the point of ecstacy and explodes and she convulses and collapses on the table, drenched in sweat and her juices.

"I'll see you soon. Don't call me. I'll send for you when I want to see you again."






Sadism refers to the pleasure derived from inflicting pain and humiliation on others. It comes from the name of Marquis de Sade, an 18th-century French nobleman, dramatist and philosopher famous for his sexual experimentations.

Masochism refers to the pleasure derived from receiving pain and humiliation. It comes from the name of Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch, an Austrian writer and journalist famous for his fantasies of dominant women wearing fur.
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Always

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Fiction

I was drinking at a bar when I met Michael. We were introduced by a common friend and we started chatting after we both found out we grew up at the same hometown.

"So, how long have you been in Manila?" I asked him.

"A couple of years," he said, taking a swig at his bottle.

"So how is it so far?"

"It's great," he replied, grinning. "There are a lot more good looking men in Manila as compared to the province."

Michael was about 25, then. He was young, beautiful, eager to see the city, with its bright brimming lights and dream filled streets.

"Here, there's more variety," he said, gesturing at a couple of muscular men dancing at the ledge.

"Hahaha. A collector, I see. And whose turn is it tonight?"

"It's your turn," he answered, looking straight into my eyes.

Ahhhh… this boy likes the game, I said to myself.

"What makes you think I'll go with you?" I told him.

"What makes you think you won't?"

I found him unnerving and exciting at the same time. I rarely meet a man who could outmatch me.

"Come," he said and pulled me to the dance floor.



The next day, we woke up at around noon. I was about to leave but he insisted we get something to eat at a nearby fastfood.

"Were you always like this? When you were in Davao, were you sleeping around?"

"Oh no," he said seriously. "I had a boyfriend there."

"So what happened to him?"

"He still writes to me. But I never open his letters."

"Why not?" I asked Michael.

"I don't have time for him. But he doesn't understand that. I wish he would stop sending me gifts."

"What doesn't he understand?"

"That things change. He thinks in terms of forever. He doesn't understand why I can't keep the promises I made to him, years ago."

"Promises of eternal love."

"Who hasn't made promises like that? But nobody really keeps them. We all talk a lot, being in love makes you say things you thought you meant. I did mean those things back then. But I was young, we both were and you think you know the future. He still thinks I am his, forever."

"Perhaps he will learn in time."

"I don't think so. You don't know him. As far as he is concerned, I will always be his... always."

Michael said the last word in a way that indicated he knew that word was not his, but his boyfriend's, which he denied everyday by his actions, by not opening his letters and gifts, by placing a distance between each other.

There are people who know exactly what they want; and their will is much stronger than those who don't know what they want, or know only what they don't want. There are forces we can escape, and then there are those that are infinitely patient and determined, and love is one of them.

I thought of Michael's boyfriend, waiting for his lover to come back. I once was that boy, I remember.



I would see Michael once in while, we would go out for a drink or see each other in clubs. He got into several messy relationships and break-ups, including one that led to the loss of his job at a hotel and another that led to drug abuse. He began to lose his youthful looks, and took on the air of a man who has fallen on hard times. He soon disappeared from the scene and later on, I learned he migrated to Singapore for work.

Years later, I saw him in Orchard at a coffee shop with a guy.

"Hey Michael!" I shouted.

"Kane! What a surprise!"

"It's so good to see you," I said. "How have you been?"

"I'm good, good. Here, let me introduce you to someone."

"Kane, this is my boyfriend, Ryan. He's also from Davao," he explained to me, smiling.

"It's nice meeting you," Ryan said, shaking my hand and smiling shyly.

Ryan was nothing special compared to the boys in the clubs we used to frequent. But there was something about him, an air that was at once reserved and determined.

"We got back together," Michael whispered to me. "I guess he was right, after all. That I was always his."

Pigs, That's What We Are

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Fiction

"You wrote letters that you never sent
I made promises I’ll always deny
Now we’ll never know what the other meant."
---Norah Jones, "Young Blood"
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It was a cold, rainy night. Manila was drenched and the streets had quieted down as midnight approached.
 
I was listening to old Pinoy bands that were popular in the 90s; Introvoys and Neocolors. The music brought back memories, as they usually do on nights like these. The smell of a dormitory, the silence of a Sunday, old faces.

Suddenly, a window opened in my Yahoo messenger. I didn't recognize the sender.

"Hey."

"Hey, who is this?" I replied.

His name was Jay. We had chatted before apparently  though I don't remember when. Jay lived near the area. We traded photos and then he asked me if I wanted to hook-up.

"But bro, I want to set things clear from the start," Jay told me.

"What?"

"I have a boyfriend. This is just a one-time fun. I don't want any trouble."

"Ahhhhhh. So you have a boyfriend."



Ever since my ex cheated on me, I made a promise to myself that I will not sleep with anyone who is in a monogamous relationship.

"Why is that?" Rudeboy asked me.

"I guess I know how it feels like to be the other guy. And how painful it is."

"Ahhhh. We all have been there, I think."

We were quiet for awhile. If I allow myself to, I can still remember the shock of that knowledge, to discover that your lover cheated on you.



"So, what did you decide?" Rudeboy asked.

"Well… it was a cold, rainy night," I said.

Timing, really, is everything. If he had messaged me on another night, if he didn't live so close, if the night wasn't so cold it made me yearn for a human touch.

"Hayy Rudie, I guess boys will be boys."

"Well, as I always say, all men are pigs."

"Hahaha. And gay men?"

"They're worse. They're swine."

"And married gay men?"

"The worst. Hogs, every one of them."



Jay was quiet, tense. His excitement was palpable, like a little boy who knows this is forbidden.

Does he feel guilty, I wonder? Does he think of his lover when we kiss? Perhaps it was because it was illicit that made the sex so good. His hands and mouth were hungry, forceful. We all crave the forbidden fruit.

"How long have you been together?" I asked him afterwards. We were both spent.

"34 months. You won't understand Kane," he said, trying to explain himself. "It doesn't mean that I don't love him, that I am not happy with him. I am... but we're men."



All men are pigs.



Can there be love without truthfulness? Sometimes I wonder if what we had, no matter how fleeting and meaningless, was more real than his love for his boyfriend. Where does love end and betrayal begin?

"Do you think he does this too?" I asked Jay.

"I don't know. I don't really think about it. And I don't do this often, just… once in a while."



He stood up, and prepared to go.

"So, I guess, see you whenever," I said and smiled.

"Yeah. I'll text you."

But we both know that wasn't true.



DISCLAIMER: Although some things were borne out of the writer's imagination, certain events did transpire and any resemblance to actual events, people, places can exist.

The President and His Sister

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Fiction

Philippine President Noynoy Aquino and his celebrity sister Kris were having brunch one Sunday. Noynoy has been worried about implementing changes he is aware will hurt some sectors of society, members of an electorate that helped put him in power with an overwhelming majority.

"There are reforms that must be implemented but I have been delaying them Kris," Noynoy said, munching on Libby's corned beef, one of his favorite dishes. "We need to increase fares on the commuter trains, remove rice subsidies. But if I do this, it would hurt my popularity."

"Ahhh. But it is precisely now that you should do these things while your popularity is at its highest," Kris replied.

"What do you mean?"

Noynoy poured himself a glass of orange juice and looked at Kris expectantly.

"You still don't get it, brother dear, do you? You will never be as popular or as loved as you are today. Popularity is the best political currency and you should use it while you still can."

"You really think so?"

"The adoration of the masses is fleeting. Everybody wants something and the reality is, you will never be able to satisfy each of their demands."

"How do you know all these things Kris? You seem to know a lot, for someone who isn't a politician."

"Show business is not so different from politics," she replied. "To remain popular, you must understand human nature. After all, when you were elected, didn't you simply take a role?"

"The role of the president. Yes," Noynoy said. "It's just that you want to do so much but the government's resources are limited."

"That is the difficult part, Noy. To decide who will benefit. And that is where politics and show business part ways."

"I have a dream, Kris. A stronger, wealthier nation. Do you think it is possible?" Noynoy said in a quiet voice.

"Noy, everything is possible," Kris replied. "But there is always a price to pay. In order to build your dream, you may have to alienate some of your supporters. But that is the mark of a true statesman. To do what must be done."

Noynoy fell silent. He thought of the millions of Filipinos who depended on him to make their lives better, to give them food, jobs, education.

"Hay Kris. It can get lonely at the top."

"Oh Noy. It always is, it always is."

You, Secret

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Fiction

"So, see you next week maybe?" James said as he put on his jeans.

"Yeah sure."

I lit a cigarette and watched as the smoke wafted out the window. It was early evening and it has started to drizzle.

"Do you want to stay over? You can leave early tomorrow," I told James, pointing at the rain.

"I can't. It's alright; it should be easy to get a cab."

James and I have been seeing each other on and off for more than four years now. He knows my body, every nook and corner of it, better than some of my lovers. When we have sex, I sometimes feel I'm a violin and his tongue is the bow, smooth and slow, at times quick, rough, insistent.

Sometimes we see each other once a week, sometimes once in a year. There is an unspoken rule; our lovers always come first, you second.

Still, our relationship has outlived every single one that I had with my boyfriends. Sometimes I wonder what we have and how long it will last.



"Do you have other buddies?" I asked him once.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know Kane. I guess at some point in time, you'll tire of random encounters too."

"I like what we have," he explained. "You know, someone to talk to, someone to fuck with."

Human beings, no matter what we think, are creatures of habit after all. There is a certain comfort in the regularity, of having someone, anyone.



James and I met at a party hosted by a common friend. He was too charming; I couldn’t resist.

"I've always liked boys with dimples," James said, offering me a drink.

"Ohhh. Hahaha. It's just a dimple," I replied.

"Can I see you again?"

"Uhmm. I have a boyfriend James."

"Do you... now."

I have a boyfriend, I kept reminding myself. But James' presence made me giddy, light

"So, what do you do?" I asked him.

"I'm a man of many talents," he said teasingly.

"Ahh. But can you do the hardest thing of all?" I said, pulling him closer to me. I was getting drunk, and the alcohol made me reckless.

"What is that?"

His fingers were playing with my hand. I knew he wanted me and the knowledge made me braver than I really was. I looked him in the eye.

"Keep a secret."

He held my gaze.

"Ahhhh. Yes. I can do that."

We kissed.




"Can I add you in my Facebook?" James asked me before he left.

"Uhm. Why?"

"So we can be friends."

"We are friends, James. Just not that kind of friends."

"Why not?"

"Don't you remember? I thought you understood.You're my secret."

Paris, France

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Fiction
 
How are you feeling? I asked.

Max sighed. Overwhelmed.

Why?

With a breathless awe in his voice, Max said, I just can't believe I'm in Paris, France.

I shook my head. You don't say Paris, France, Max. That's an address on an envelope. It's like saying you live in New York, New York.

But it's so amazing.

I smiled at him. No. You're the one who's amazing.



Based on a story by Philip Gefter titled Elizabeth New Jersey.
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Ugly, Me

Fiction

Gabriel and I were lying on my bed last night, listening to Icelandic band Sigur Rós and talking about his latest sexual encounter.

"He wasn't handsome or cute," Gabriel said as he lit a cigarette. "He wasn't handsome at all."

I looked at him as he continued smoking. Gabriel was easily the more attractive one between us. Men were drawn to his boyish face and his eager smile. He could easily hook up with anyone but strangely he was drawn to ugly men.

"I let him fuck me from behind. I could hear him panting, I could feel his sweaty palms. His big fat belly kept slamming into my back, he was so heavy and it was very uncomfortable. But I liked it," he said.

Gabriel is fascinated with unsightly men. He said it reminded him of his fantasies when he was younger: ugly men fucking him and then paying for it afterward. Sweaty, balding, aging men whose loneliness he would somehow heal.

Gabriel, the archangel, whose name means "The Strength of God", bringing light and hope to the lonely.

He pictured them running their big, fat fingers across his face, whispering: "Baby, you were worth it."

"How did you feel afterwards?" I asked him.

"Afterwards? Nothing," Gabriel said. "He said he wanted to see me again but I told him I can't."

"Do you ever feel anything?" I said.

He shook his head.

"Are you happy?" I asked him.

"Are you?" he said, throwing the question back at me.

I wanted to say yes, I am. But I knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. I didn't answer.

"Sometimes, it's hard to tell, isn't it?" Gabriel said.

"Sometimes," I nodded. "Sometimes."