Thursday, September 9, 2010



Author's Note:
To all followers, especially to Mark, THANK YOU. Rest assured that we are doing our best to update our stories and give the readers satisfaction. We do not intend to make an excuse but do understand that we also have other matters (especially jobs) to attend to. We are not professional writers - for some of us, writing is a hobby we indulge in our spare time; for some, it is a catharsis. But regardless of our reasons we hope that our readers do enjoy these stories we share. So saying, I hope you will enjoy the story below. Constructive criticisms highly appreciated :)


Sonnet LXVI: I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You


I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.


-Pablo Neruda

It was another dog-day afternoon. Dull. Tiresome. The clock ticked-tocked in nerve-wracking slowness. I felt as productive as a sloth. As usual these days, I was staring stupidly at the blinking monitor, my mind floating aimlessly in empty space, trying to think about my life. In a little more than a year, my life had been turned upside down. Me, drab Chad Taylor, copyeditor, had caught the attention of hunky Lee Rawlins, billionaire tycoon. Since then, my life had become a rollercoaster ride.

"Hey babe." The voice sent shivers down my spine. "What are you doing?" he asked. I turned around and smiled at the man. God! He was gorgeous. Intelligent. And indecently rich. And he loves me? Me, who am best be described as a 5'4" pole stick. A ninny. Dumb. I did not know what he saw in me. I did ask him but the man just guffawed. Not laughed, guffawed as if finding my question bone-shaking silly. That's one more thing about the man except for his megawatt smile. The man's got a crazy sense of humor that borders on the absurd. Which just happen to pop at equally absurd times. I mean, here I am asking him what I considered to be a serious question and the man just laughed. The man do bugged me at times. Well, a lot of times. But he usually gets away with it. But I digress. Really, what's so funny with my question? I asked him because I certainly did not know.

There's nothing extraordinary about me. Brown eyes. Not deep soulful eyes. Nor limpid pools framed by sooty lashes. Nor enchanting eyes. Just dull brown eyes. Brown skin. Neither the honeyed skin most Indians have nor the tanned one sunbathing enthusiasts sport. Just sun-baked brown. Brown hair that refused to be tamed, ends sticking out every which way. Maybe... it's my bee-stung lips.

I am not tall. Not muscled. And definitely not rich. If I were, I would not have tolerated my oh-so-boring job. Nor would have I stayed in a ratty apartment that should have been demolished ages go. And I am certainly no Mr. Genius. Yeah, I can count and do my arithmetic. But beyond that, I am a hopeless case. It would have been better if I have the brains of Einstein though I looked like a mutt. Better yet if I have his brains and looked like those mouth-drooling models plastered on billboards in every nook and cranny in this labyrinthine city. Fortunately, I don't look like Einstein and have the brains of those models (not that I am saying that models are dumb nor Einstein's a mutt). But don't you think it's sinful to look that good and have brains too? Which Lee definitely is. Though he likes to pretend his dumb and tease me mercilessly about it. Don't be fooled by those sad puppy looks. Nor the vacant uncomprehending stare. He perfected it! He's intelligent and the man's a shark when it comes to business. He's one of the shrewdest and most successful businessmen in the country. He owns fleets of ships, chains of department stores, a freight company, and the publishing house where I worked. It seemed we lived on two different planets. It was a wonder our worlds collided. Sheer miracle that he noticed me. My guardian angels must be working overtime the day I came to tell the boss I lost the manuscript I was working on. My apartment caught fire and I got it misplaced in the mayhem. Not only did I not lost my job, I got a new place to stay. Lee offered his pad. Told the boss not to fire me. I should have condemned the arsonist that burned the building down to cinders. I silently thanked him instead.

That was the beginning. Once in a while, he would drop by to visit. Stayed for some time. Then the visits got more frequent; his stay a little longer. Then we started to end up sprawled on the sofa laughing our hearts out on some silly movies; or just sit there, eyes closed. I started to find myself listening to him talk. About himself. About his family. About his work. Sometimes even about his problems. We even started to go out, have some beers on my favorite crusty restaurant as we cheered and hollered for our teams. And I started missing him. But thought nothing would come out of it. The man's unattainable as an impossible dream. And the man could cook too. Argh! He looked just as good in a silly apron as he did in a suit. The first time he invited me to a dinner, I was in tethers. What do I know about glitzy restaurants and those hard-to-pronounce French cuisines? But no, he invited me to his house. I should have felt more than nervous then. Should have been on-guard. Better yet, I should have told him no. Well, I did but the man was relentless. "Refused" was not part of his vocabulary. He's sooo used to getting what he wanted that he could not take no for an answer. So what am I gonna do, one defenseless man, against his awesome bullying tactics. The man had practice. Lots of practice. So there was I, having a candlelight dinner, no less, in his house. He was at his most charming self. Witty. Confident. And his raw sensuality assaulted my senses. I should have known then that he was moving in for the kill. I was caught off-guard. The next thing I knew we were on his bed kissing like crazy, devouring each other's mouth like there would be no tomorrow, tearing our clothes off in frenzy.

But that was one hundred and eighty days ago. Six glorious months that still left me breathless. The man was magnificent. And a wonderful lover. Sensitive. Thoughtful. Warm. He was beyond my league. He was a skilled artist, a master. I was just some ingenue. A fumbling nobody swept in a dizzying whirlwind romance that left me craving for more. The first few weeks, we hardly had worn any clothes at all. Hardly left his bed. And it just got better. Then it suddenly ended. I should have anticipated it. The way his eyes started roaming around and sizing up every male in a room as if checking out their potentials. Or the way he flashed those high-voltage smile at them. Or his prowling. Or his uncharacteristic silence. Those things should have warned me. But I guess I was too lost in his magic. In his touches, though they had become more poignant than passionate. Or his kisses, though they were no longer soul-searing but heart-shattering in their intensity. I should have known. Then it was too late.

I could still remember vividly the day they walked into the office. I was busy finishing some manuscript the boss wanted to have on his desk by lunchtime. Lee was in Paris to close a business deal so I was surprised to see him walked through the door with his arms draped at his companion's shoulder. The other man was simply stunning. Sultry eyes. Smoldering pouts. He was tall with a slim athletic build. Golden. Perfectly sculpted muscles. Hair lush and fashionably styled. His clothes fitted him like a dream. Clothes that screamed Paris. From head to too, the man was elegance personified. My exact opposite. I was a total wreck. My hair was a mess, glasses askew, and clothes rumpled. I felt like an undiscovered life form being scrutinized under a microscope. He positively glowed. I flickered. And Lee introduced me as his employee.

"And this is Chad here. Chad, Antoine," Lee said casually but I noticed the way his silver eyes gleamed in proprietary manner every time he mentioned Antoine’s name.

Antoine flicked his eyes in my direction in an appraising manner. "Hi. Nice meeting you," he said suavely though his voice held a note of curiosity. He gave me a proud smile.

 450px-Blue_rose-artificially_coloured"Just thought to drop by," Lee offered. "I was just showing Antoine around. We'll be going now." And there's nothing casual in the small intimate gestures they gave each other. I should have understood then. But what made me realize everything's over was when I saw them fucking in Lee's bed. Fucking with abandon. With frenzy. The way we used to do.

And now, one hundred and eighty days after, I still did not know what Lee saw in me. Maybe the answer lies at the dozen blue roses and the note that accompanied it I received unexpectedly one day.

Because now, when I ask him, he just kisses me. He no longer laughed at what he thought was a silly question. He just kisses me and whispers, "I love you." Though his eyes still roam around, his heated gaze always return to me. He would still flash those megawatt smiles but always he smiles that sweet secret smile to me. He would still prowl but only to guard his territory. And his silence had come to mean that he was thinking of me.



No comments:

Post a Comment


Follow us in
- Friendster:
- Twitter:
- Facebook

Add michaelshadesofblue as your friend in facebook, friendster, and twitter:


All images and videos in this site are copyrights of their respective owners and "MSOB" claims no credit unless otherwise acknowledged. If you own the rights to any of the images or videos and do not wish them to appear on this site please, contact us at and the items in question will be promptly removed.


Related Posts with Thumbnails