Sunshine

XLI

THE young night ripens itself as the people who chose to get wasted with alcohol and ladies started to lose themselves. They, either lonely or just lustful spends the night through a couple and more dollars to intoxicate themselves. The hostess bar adored with lights, beers and ladies served their wants and needs tonight.

Among the lights that never failed to fascinate anyone is a woman who is at the center of them all. She is both an epitome of pure, lust, s*x, passion, dream, desire― a straight-out beauty, a goddess and love. It’s either you want to make love or fall in love with her― in which what she gives all depends to the receiving end since she’s capable to give both (in some sense, whatever that means). After all what she gives depends on what is ask of her.

She swayed her hips along the music that embodied her. It was as if the music was made for her, and not the other way around. Eyes that either sparkled, glistened, turned to hearts or stars or whatever shape it is that could show desperation and love showered her as she conquers the small stage. Her whole body and flesh laid bare despite the thin clothing that barely covers it. But even in her almost nakedness she held her head high― the confidence she barely gathered up every night by countless sighs and deep breaths backstage as well as trying to intoxicate herself with all the praises and love she receives every night. She imagined her cries, though not made visible to anyone and even to herself already washed away all the things she could have hidden away. And that was how she was able to show her everything in this small stage no one would ever kill for.

She goes by the name of Liva. Taken-out from the name given to her by her mother before it died giving birth which, in some language she can’t remember what was called meant “life”.

She’s just trying to stay alive. However wrong her method is, and however wrong it would have felt even to herself.

She can lie to herself as much as she wants.

“I’m not a minor anymore. I’m 20 already.” She started, whispering even amidst the loud music. “I consented. It wasn’t rape.”

“Hija, it’s not only minors that get r***d―”

“Just who and what are you?”

This isn’t the first time they met but she only remembered to ask. It’s been three consecutive nights that the man in front of him asked for her and paid bigger than everyone else but did not come for the reason just like of everyone’s. He’s been coming wasting time, money and effort with his insisting. At first he scares her. But now his persistence only annoys.

The middle-aged man fixed himself first before answering. He dusted his all black clothes as if it helped with anything. “You can say I’m a reporter.”

That made Liva took a careful look at the man in front of her. His all black cheap leather jacket and denim jeans all faded themselves due to years of use. Few holes on them also did not escaped her eyes. It is not an exaggeration if we say he wore a set of rags. He looked so simple so ordinary and so poor that she thought he would not be doing this for money or for clout but just simply for the sake of justice.

She almost got convinced.

“No one would ever believe a hostess got raped.”

“But you did got raped.”

“Sir, please change sources. What you have is not reliable.”

That received a sigh from Mr. Poor Reporter. He slouched towards the table, narrowing their distance. He looked at Liva attentively and spoke with more conviction this time.

“You dance, you table but you don’t give extra service. And I know you could kill just for that.”

Liva stayed silent. Those were the truth but she did not bothered wording them out. She’s the best dancer this bar ever had. And that was not based on dancing skills (because that doesn’t really matter) but base on how many customers her hips brought and it just happened she brought the best numbers. And that is why she stayed as a dancer, unlike those that went before her that, though with resistance as strong as her still ended up sleeping with costumers.

“Tell me, what do you remember on Christmas eve?”

Christmas eve. That was a couple of weeks ago since the year changed already. And this new year, as fast as it could move is already on its second week. Christmas eve was supposed to be a usual night for her, except that she did not dance that night and was called to somewhere instead. That somewhere she can’t remember as well as the happenings. But she remembers the who. She knows him so well.

And she pretty much knows this reporter in front of her is actually expecting this. And that is why she’s not telling. But this reporter was no novice. He saw those exactly which made him close his eyes and sigh.

“Just what are you trying to protect?”

“I’m protecting my life.” She almost said. But then again, for the third time tonight she once again kept those to herself and said the gift she received on that Christmas eve instead.

“Tonight will be my last night here. I’m going to college.”

OLIVIA received a call the next morning from the Hospice. She was asked to go there to collect the personal belongings of patient Peter Saragoza as the registered guardian. In the result Olivia pretended sick to skip Love Lingerie again.

Olivia reached Kahilom Hospice Center at the promised time. She spent some time at the nurse station talking with the head nurse and once again received thanks for donations they received from her in the past, as well as condolences for her father who just passed away. Apologies were also sent, saying they were sorry for not noticing anything when it happened. Olivia just simply smiled, nodded, and shook her head no to them.

“Thanks again, Ma’am.”

The head nurse smiled to her for the last time and squeezed her shoulders, once again sympathy were sent. She took her way as she left Olivia alone in the room. Olivia watched the head nurse’s back move farther away as she closed the door. Her eyes nailed at the room that she only saw maybe once or twice or thrice probably but strangely felt familiar. Maybe it’s because it once belonged to her father.

Listening to her footsteps against the mahogany floor Olivia walked to the bed stationed at the far end of the room. A black worn-out duffel bag sat on it. She sat next to it and took the bag to her lap and opened it. She took her time to look what’s inside.

An old tabloid paper welcomed her the moment she looked down at the bag. Her fingers run through the letters written in all capitals and in red that made the headlines.

“I’m sorry, for telling you to stop writing.”

Olivia whispered. She took out the paper and started reading it. It occurred to her she never actually gave the article a proper read. Suddenly the letters went blurry. And then they got wet. Olivia looked up and laughed the tears off.

“It’s true, Dad. I got r***d. He is the first to enter mine. On that Christmas eve. But that doesn’t really matter. After that he’s been f*****g me for 8 years.”

Olivia once again laughed. She used her hands to wipe the tears away from her face.

“But what am I even crying for? This is what I exchanged for the justice you once offered to me.”

Olivia closed her eyes. She let her eyes stream the tears she should have been crying all these years, her heart breaking for the first time over everything. With her close eyes she let herself seep in all the tears, remembering for what were all of them. For what are all these tears for? For whom her heart is breaking for now? She’s crying for so much. She’s aching for so much. There’s so much and for herself. Herself. Before anything, they should be for herself first.

Her phone rang. She swallowed everything and stared at the wall, her eyes fixed and heart determined.

“Dad.”

“Olivia,” answered the other line, delight is evident in his voice. “Are you free tonight?”

“Of course, I am. The usual place?”

“Of course,” a pause. “Daughter.”

“See you later, Dad.”

Olivia let her curse, her cries, her anger and her everything fly with the wind for now. To suppress yourself is to control yourself.

She will now get paid for what’s due.

THE usual room they shared, lighted in bright yellow above the red and white sheets welcomed Olivia as she came in using her own keys. She recalled what she had beneath this black sheer dress she came with. She felt the right tightness on her body of the red lingerie she carefully crafted. The laced piece came to show the fire slowly burning her whole in behalf of her. She called the piece the chained Andromeda.

The door opened at her back. Olivia remained standing as Romualdo Costales, still on his office clothes went straight to bed and slammed his back on it. She broke a rehearsed smile as she turned her back to close the door.

“Are you tired?”

“Too much happening nowadays.” Olivia heard him talk, almost hissing with his heavy breathing. “They inevitably make you tired.”

Olivia turned again to face Costales and the bed. “Aren’t you going to shower first?”

Romualdo sighed which is almost similar to a growl. “Can you help me unbutton this shirt?”

Olivia put down her bag on the side table as she untied her shoes and climbed to bed. She positioned herself on top of Costales, who groaned once again but now with a smile on his face. She caught his eyes now nailed on her cleavage, now serving him the view.

“Well, I’ll do my best to relieve your tiredness tonight.”

Olivia ran her especially long fingers tonight on every buttons from up to bottom, then started unbuttoning from first button from the seams. She made Romualdo extra impatient with all the teasing.

“Oh babe make it fast!”

She laughed but still went on with the teasing. Still all buttons successfully got unbuttoned soon enough.

“Now go quick. I’ll be here waiting like a good kid.”

Romualdo immediately jumped off bed the moment Olivia took off him. The shower went on right away, too. Olivia stared at the shower door for a while, her smile melting. She kneeled on the bed and slipped off her black dress. Now Andromeda took over. She looked angry on Olivia’s tight porcelain skin.

“Wow that’s fire.”

Romualdo commented, just went out of shower with only a robe tied loosely covering his big body.

“I just designed this. Do you like it?”

“Very.”

Impatiently Romualdo removed the robe from him, showing his body still glistening from the shower. It was a sight very unsightly as it had always been, but Olivia still broke the sweetest smile she managed to make natural over the past 8 years.

“Now come, Daddy.”

And so Romualdo jumped like a hungry lion. His hunger lavished the fiery woman on the bed, hands busy trying to untie Andromeda. He wanted her whole. He wanted her whole like how he usually have her. His hands went on tugging the thin threads.

Finally the red lingerie fall off the bed.

Half of Olivia’s body is on the bed while the other half is on the headboard as how she was positioned. Then she felt that hard thing on her. She let out a soft moan to satisfy the ear as it slowly entered her. She closed her eyes feeling the hard shaft move slowly in and out, the sound it made loud enough to make her go crazy. She once again let out a loud moan, louder than the first one. The bed moved faster.

Moans went louder and the thrusting went faster. The bed moved in their matched rhythm. He’s coming. She’s coming. They’re both coming.

Slowly Olivia’s hands reached for her bag. She felt the cold metal inside.

Will this friend penetrate long enough to stab both her and the old man she’s f*****g now?