At the End of Everything #26

I met with Sharry at Haji Lane later that night, at a Spanish restaurant near the end of the street. A upbeat latin song played merrily in the background, a tune that reminded me of Brazilian movies that I used to watch. We sat outside of the shop, next to a beautifully painted mural. Looking at the blonde haired girl who stood before me, all my stress in the daytime magically dissipated away.

Sharry was working as a sales negotiator here for her company back in London, and like all who work in the corporate sector, she was dressed in a formal office attire. She wore a dark skirt with high heels, and a white top that offered a glimpse of her bra underneath. Her black cardigan rested on one of her arms, while her work bag hung from another. She had makeup on too, her lips had a hint of glitter on them, while the black eyeliner line was visibly drawn under her eyes.

“Tough day for me,” she groaned, as she pulled a chair out and dumped her belongings unto it.

“Tell me about it,” I replied rather half-heartedly, throwing my bag unto another chair as well. A part of me just wanted to get away from the bag as far as possible. I took off my tie, and slipped it into my pocket.

Out of a sudden, I felt Sharry coming close to me, and she slipped her hands underneath my right arm. She pulled my hand and pressed it against her chest. I was caught surprised by her move, but tried to act as if it was no big deal. I shifted my eyes to the mural, then back to her. Her head was just inches from mine.

“Thank goodness it’s Friday night now right,” her voice almost to a whisper, with a mysterious allure in her voice. I felt a rush of blood inside of me, and the temperature around me seemed to have risen.

“Yeah,” I muttered back, already feeling the heat on my cheeks. The last thing that I would have wanted was to blush.

Sharry let off a playful giggle, before letting off my hand and moving back several inches from me. She pulled the menu towards her, and started looking through it. “Before we do anything tonight, let’s make sure we have food in our stomach first.” I quickly followed suit.

The rest of the evening passed off unlike the usual outings that I had spent with her. She was much more physical, much more open. When we talked, she would often lie on my shoulder, her blonde hair only a few strands away from my face. She touched me more often, her fingers running across my hand when she laughed, or putting her arm around me.

Every time she came close, the scent of an expensive perfume filled my nose. It was a new scent, something that I did not smell before in my previous outings with her. It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. Like a spell had been cast on me.

We had a few glasses of beer to drink after that, as a celebration to the end of the week. Everything went down a dizzying speed soon after. We ordered more glasses of alcohol, cocktails, wine and beer, as the effects began to take hold on us. My right hand was around Sharry’s waist now, while my left played with a glass of wine.

She turned to face me, her back leaning on our table. She flashed a cheeky grin towards me. “You know, I have always wanted to know how an Asian guy taste like.” Her words lingered seductively in the air, while her hands rubbed against my chest.

Before I knew it, we were both sitting in a cab, already having our tongues deep down each other’s throats. Normally, I would feel embarrassed by the sound of the taxi driver repeatedly coughing towards us, but that night, I did not care less.

“Marina Bay Sands, Tower 1,” Sharry casually told him when we boarded, before returning her attention to me. It was a crazy experience, the way her tongue danced in my mouth, how her fingers ruffled my hair and the way she sighed pleasurably, filled my senses. In my eight years with Elaine, never before had I experienced such a feeling before. If pure lust could be described, it would probably look like what we were doing. The taxi driver was probably coughing only because he was jealous.

After accepting a 50 dollar note and being told to keep the change, the taxi driver shook his head at us, while we fumbled down his car. “Youngsters,” he said it a rather judging tone, before driving off.

“And you don’t be jealous alright!” Sharry shouted back to the disappearing car, before pulling my arms towards the hotel entrance. We walked dizzily towards the lobby, arms still wrapped around each other.


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