.: A little taste of obscurity :.

:: Sunday, March 09, 2008 ::

what happens when you lose control

I got caught in the rain. I ran as fast as I could but every step splashed more rain water on me. Of course I only realised this important piece of information once I arrived under the shade.

As I turned around and looked upwards to stare at the droplets of water running down the roof, I silently surrendered to the weather. "You get me every time," I said. And then I realised there were people around me. There were maybe a dozen of them, all sheltering from the rain as well. Each one of them wrapped their arms around themselves, creating some sort of perceived warmth. Dumbasses. What good is wrapping a wet arm around a soaked shirt? Like trapping moisture is going to help warm you up.

I walked to the end of the walkway, weaving myself in and out of damp-smelling people, careful not to brush against anybody along the way. I hate touching strangers or having them touch me. It's hard enough trying to keep myself clean without having grubby people introduce their bacteria to me. To hell with all this 'hug someone today' crap. Unless there's a can of Lysol and everyone is cling-wrapped, fuck charity.

"My, my, aren't we a little hostile today?" said some girl with far too little makeup. She wore a cream-coloured top and … well, I couldn't be bothered to eye her from top to bottom so that's about all I noticed.

I glared at her. "It's a wet day. Can't you see I'm the fucking sunshine bear? I'm incapable of compliments when it’s gloomy, and by gloomy I meant your face. Really, what the fuck is that look? I didn't know au naturale meant naturally ugly."

Blink blink.

A few hollers pierced through the curtain of rain to get my attention. I looked up and suddenly there was an apartment before me. Two guys were by one of the balconies on the 2nd floor, thrusting their beer upwards as they continued cheering (or jeering) me. My eyes squinted in trying to make out who they were and what was happening.

There was a pub here and I didn't know of it?

"Ah! An alcoholic. I love you already!" a deep voice with an equally deep British accent dashed past my shoulder.

"Wow, you love other things besides making assumptions about people you've yet to meet," I said as I turned around, prepared with a dagger stare.

Except that I've met him before. In a distant time and place. Wtf. And now I am the narrator of Dungeons and Dragons.

Blink blink.

I followed him into a pub/bistro/café/whatever the hell marketing people have christened these places. There were a few wooden benches and tables, arranged neatly across the cement floor. Some ethnic ornaments dangled from the ceilings, overshadowed by the lanterns that were the only source of light in the place. It was one of those places that would say:

(headline)
Caught between yesterday and tomorrow

(bodycopy)
Tucked in the heart of the bustling city lies a sanctuary that offers you the best of both worlds. An infusion of traditional and contemporary elements, [insert name of place] offers you the best of today. So come forget about tomorrow's worries and relax over some good ol' memories.

OR

(headline)
Tired of feeling old? It's time to get young again!

(bodycopy)
Here at [insert name of place] we've ensured that everything remains the same as your memories of youth. From the décor to the relaxed 'kopitiam' styled ambience, you'll return to the sweet days of yesteryear. What's more, you'll also be glad to know that if visit us between 3 - 4 pm everyday, you'll get a FREE drink* on us! So put on your old clothes and join us for a new revolution!

OR

(headline)
Some drink to forget. Our patrons drink to remember.

(bodycopy)
While others drink to escape, we'd rather you drink to return to the old days. [insert name of place] is a haven of memories. Relax with an old friend (Mr. Walker, in this case) and reminisce about the good old days when men were men. Or toast to the marriage of a good friend before everyone exchanges embarrassing stories from high school. Whatever it is that you've lost to age, comes alive here. And don't worry, we'll keep last night's episode a secret.

Depending on the Copywriter, of course. But nobody here seemed to care about advertisements. They were talking very loudly, trying to drown out the Café del Mar CD playing in the background.

Most of the girls wore tube dresses that did nothing to accentuate their figure. They were either too fat or too flat. But most had a face that resembled an odd dumpling.

After a quick scan of the room, I noticed not a single guy. Well perhaps there were a few, but I'm not in the mood to lower my standards tonight.

Blink blink.

He's behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I'm wearing a short skirt and I can feel my panties rubbing against his hardened crotch. Of all the anti-sexual harassment manoeuvres I had in mind, I was also thinking of taking his dick into my mouth.

I'd start from the base, slowly trailing a slithery film of saliva across the length of his dick. As the tip of my tongue softly brushes against his twitching member, every response from his dick will set off yet another mischievous lick. I’d go on pretending to be a kitten until his thighs lift themselves of the bed. Then I'd slowly devour the head of his penis and wait for my wet mouth to slowly slide its way down his shaft.

And then I'd tighten the grip of my lips and suck my way upwards until I hear the familiar popping sound of a dick released from my mouth. I'd do this until I notice he's stopped biting his lower lip. Then I'd run my fingernails across his balls whilst my mouth continues on his dick, the sounds of saliva and suction becoming louder than the hum of the air-conditioner.

Just as he lifts his head to see me giving him a blowjob, I wrap my fingers around his dick. The wetness allows a slick, smooth motion as I slide my squeeze. My lips stick to my index finger and thumb, giving him a blowjob and a handjob simultaneously. I tighten the grip of both my hand and lips as my tongue cheekily darts forth to rub against the tip of his penis.

Now it's time to suck harder and squeeze tighter and move faster. I'm pretty sure the sounds turn me on more than it does him.

As his hips thrust according to my movements, I prepare myself for the ending. He digs his fingernails into my shoulder and I push his dick to the furthest ends of my mouth. A thick trail rushes towards the back of my throat and slithers down before I swallow. My hand moves to my face to wipe the excess moisture from my mouth as I coyly look at him for affirmation.

Blink blink.

She wore far too much turquoise eye shadow. Her eyes were in tiny slits, perfect for the typical stand-up comedy routine on Chinese people. And she had a face that made you take a second look, only because you couldn’t believe how ugly it was at first glance. Yet she draws so much attention with that outlandish colour.

"If you don't have a face worth looking at, why make people look at it?" I asked, only this time out of genuine curiosity and not sarcasm.

Miss Bananarama laughed a long, hearty laugh. I had to wait until she stopped; not only get an answer, but also to find out what was so funny. Or to see if she was retarded.

"You're talking to the wrong person! She's over there!" she said as she pointed to a girl sitting on the adjacent end. I looked at the other girl. And then I looked back at the one talking to me. They both looked exactly the same.

Maybe they were Chinese.

I looked at the other girl again and back at Miss Bananarama. Though it really did nothing than confirm that they were the same person - right down to the damn turquoise-dusted eye slits and straightened hair.

Blink blink.

My head rests on the pillow and a faint sign of a sunshine creeps through the gap in my curtains. An oblivious snore reminds me of where I am. I reach out to touch his chest and snuggle into the crook of his neck. I can feel his pulse against my cheek.

Blink blink.

The soft sunshine, room temperature and the warm duvet remains the same. Davidoff Coolwater lingers in my nose and my hand moves according to his heaving chest. Nothing has changed.

Jeng jeng jeng!

:: Another pointless rambling at 6:12am ::