Lucky 13

Risky Business

“I am no angel, I like it when you do that stuff to me...”
-Wynter Gordom, “Dirty Talk”

Being stuck at home ain’t fun at all. My activities are, but not limited to, working out 3x a week, practicing poi moves, watching reruns on cable and blogging. Was done updating my curriculum vitae, will start sending out my resume to companies. I need a job, something that I will excel at and will not bitch about. I don’t want a job at a BPO company. Total brain drain.

I went out with some friends last Friday at a low-end comedy/videoke bar. It was supposed to be a 1on1 date with a good friend, where I plan to dish out my poz status. My friend brought his soon-to-be partner and another friend of ours, i decided to postpone the big revelation. Sitting, drinking, watching the show bored me. At around 3ish, I left the bar and decided to go clubbing with another friend.

I love dancing. It makes me worry-less about life, and it’s a good form of exercise. The club was not as jam-packed as usual. Not that fire-hazardous.

Later on, K joined us. I met K months ago through E, but our conversations were just composed of small talks, heckles and punch lines. But this time, it was more than the usual bantering. First off, I officially revealed my blog identity to K. I’ve been slipping clues in my blogs and I know that K has been asking E about the identity of Lucky Trese. It’s not rocket science. Other topics that K and I talked about revolved around music, lovelife and twinks in heavy eyeliners. It was fun hanging out with K.

I went to McDonald’s, had 2 sausage+egg McMuffins, and large OJ. Got home around 7ish. Slept the whole day, went shopping and saw a cheap pair of blue faux leather shoes. Had dinner and went out again that night. That very dirty Saturday night.

It was sort of a reunion at the club. Hanged out with my first gay barkada, got drunk early (around 3ish), danced the night away. Then played the hookie role at the club.

I’m not the usual club predator, the club hookie. I go to the club, i dance, i get intoxicated, i socialize, i flirt a little, i tease. But I don’t play the hookie card that much. It’s been months since I had any action. It was last November when I hooked up with someone, a casual sleepover at his place. P has been wanting to hook-up with me for months, but being a new pozie made me a little hesitant about playing the Queen B role. E knew about my hesitations and frustrations.

But the combination of my antiretrovirals and alcohol put me in my hookie state. So i decided to play a little last Saturday night.

I saw a guy, about my height, fair skinned, borderline between lean and stocky, chinito. His body language suggests that he’s been wanting to meet me. He was across the room and kept giving me smirks and stares. Intimidating for some people but not for me. I stood beside him, slurred, danced and casually bumped into his arms. I then leaned at the rails and faced him then moved to the other railing. We were standing face to face and gave him a nod and a smile. Then snobbed him again.

The rules are for the other person to do the first move. That way, you’ll know if he likes you. You tease, you flirt, but you don’t give in. Those are MY rules. I can be aggressive but I like someone who can be aggressive with me.

After a couple of minutes, he approached me and introduced himself. The game is set.

His breathe smelled and tasted like vodka. He was about my height so making out was not that hard, I need not to tip-toe just to reach him. He then pulled me out of the club, to the dark 3rd floor stairway.

Sex? First let’s define sex. Sex for me involves someone being penetrated. I don’t consider hand jobs and fellatio as sex. There was no sex on the stairway. But there was a bit of this and that. There was a bit of thrill and a lot of risk involved. Oh well, when the cards were already dealt, all you need is to wait for the flop and the river to see if you can win the game of poker.

I gave him my name but not my number. That’s how I play the game. And I guess that’s how he wanted to end the deal as well. I went back to the club and pretended that nothing happened.

Am I back in the game? Was the dry spell lifted? I don’t know. A definite maybe.

My friends and I had breakfast and talked some more. A friend of mine noticed a certain glow in my face. I told them what happened but left out some details. You don’t have to dish out everything. You leave something for them to imagine. Even in my blogs, the whole story won’t be told.

“I am no angel...
I like it when you do that stuff to me...
I wanna do some dirty things to you tonight,
I wanna fight, all through the night, night, night.
I am no angel....”