Some blog entry I liked

[jaymee]

The English Rogue




I was looking hot as usual, minding my own business, taking stock of my life, one pre-christmas day in town €“


By town, I mean Borders. By minding my own business, I mean I was fresh out of Borders arms laden with €˜Buy 3 for the price of 2' novels, happy as a pigeon that just pooped on a canteen table.


By taking stock of my life, I mean I was in Marks & Spencers stocking up on dark chocolate digestives biscuits, sparkling grapefruit juice, and slinky nylon knickers.


And by looking hot, I mean I was in my usual 4.5-inched black patent heels, in a pencil skirt that was tight as a Chinese housewife at NTUC, and a thin white blouse, which humbly concealed my Marks & Spencers demi-cup laced push up bra. I had let me hair down and was playing with my waist-long tousled mop, sweeping it out of my face with pre-meditated panache -


which usually means I am sending out "approach me" signals.


A powdered nose, a wrist-ful of different St Michael's deodorant scents and 20 minutes of shopping later, I was $256.90 poorer, and chirpier, and possibly more approachable than ever. Because a voice, no, more like, a noise, originated from the man who stood between me and the shelf of oh-so-yummy gummies.





Man: swight. Ay ay ay...

Me: Sorry?

Man: ay swante tah ssaye tha eu af gor nois shoooz.

Me: I what?... oh, nice shoes? I have nice shoes? Thanks! *blush*

Man: aydon aydon... aydon eu shu lee doi dis but but ma maits swaidin, ays wundarin, ca ay huf yo numbah? To to contac ya, yagitwhaaymean?

Me: You want my number? To contact me? But you don't even know my name. Shouldn't you at least introduce yourself first?





He was a white guy. Duh.




Not tall. Looked about late 30s, maybe early 40s. He had a friendly face and a perfectly crinkled nose. He had a deep frown and the most piercing green eyes which sat on top of an omnipotent smile. When he spoke to me he looked me directly in the eye. But when I spoke, he let his eyes drop to my feet and appreciatively let them wander up the length of my skirt, lingering just politely long enough at my chest before he returned to my eyes - Making me a subject of his scrutiny made me hot. And it made me wonder if anything I said was being taken in at all.





He could tell he was making me uncomfortable, and he was enjoying it.





Man: *with a smile and a glint in his eyes* oh, Par nn me. Leem's mah nayme.

Me: Lee?

Man: Tha's righ. Leeum

Me: Oh, Liam? As in Liam Gallagher?

Man: Tha's wah ah sed.

Me: Oh, sorry, I'm not listening well today. Nice to meet you, Liam. Where're you from?

Man: Where rum from?

Me: *nodding* That's what I said.

Man: *giving me another once over as if to say: "know your place, little girl"* Arm frum England. You kno...

Me: Of course I know England

Man: Sorray, of cos eu doh.





*pregnant pause*





Standing before me was a man with confident eyes, and a put-on nervousness €“ something I could not get my head around. Just as quickly as he was lusting after me, he seemed to snap out of it and returned to manager mode.





Man: Lis-nn, ma maits swaitin, un ah huf ter goh, buh ah wus wunderin if ah cud contak yah

Me: But I, erm... it's not really my...

Man: Cumon, ma maits swaitin *points to his friend* an ah wud lik tah sta' n cha', buh I kan. *gesturing to his mate to wait a little and looking helplessly at me*

Me: okok. Here's my card. You can email me.

Man: noh noh noh. Ah m noh dum. Tud's noh nice. Gimme ur numbah.





In my study of men thus far, I figured there were only 2 possibilities.

1. He's picked up countless chicks like that before and has no more fortitude to baby yet another one despite her being outrageously above-average.

2. He's newly back in the game after years of thinking it's something strictly for people half his age. And I just happen to be the outrageously above-average test-bed that's given him back a reason to shave and live.


I smiled. He was too old to play my silly games, and been around too much to fall for my weak coyness and had zero patience to coddle me. I liked that.





Man: Doh keep me hah in' Ah ahreddy got ma fone out.

Me: ok. It's XXX-XXXX





We parted ways. And I forgot to buy my damn deodorant.





Within 20 minutes he SMSed:





Him: Sorry couldnt stay and chat that was my boss

Me: It's ok. that's how you ought to treat girls with nice shoes

Him: u always this funny

Me: u always don't use punctuation?

Him: Just picked myself up from the floor

Me: and picked u a new random helpless shopping chick, may I add.

Him: call u soon we have dinner





Like 4 days later he called





Him: Liss nn. Ore eu doin arnything tah noite?

Me: *took me 2 seconds to process it before I replied* Oh hello Marks and Spencers guy, Why? What's up?

Him: Liss nn. Mah mate's got tickets ta a concert.

Me: So he's taking me?

Him: *laughs* yore funny, eu know tha? Lis nn. He not goin. Eu wanna come? Bunch of us, good fun.

Me: ahh... I can't! I made plans!

Him: tha's arright. Coll you again.





And 3 days later he emailed:





How u doin


I ignore him.





And then he emailed:


I be in samui for two weeks


I ignore it.





And 3 weeks later he texts:


Your not sure how to work emails


I ignore him.





And then he texts


Weird you ignorin me





And then he calls:





Him: Hey, Lis nn, you arr wight?

Me: Yeah.

Him: An you don think to reply would be nice, to saye tha least polaite?

Me: *surprised he was so fierce* Well, you lis nn, you never asked any questions, or put a question mark to say the least. What do you expect me to reply?

Him. *long pause* Unbelievable.

Me: what.

Him. Unbelievable, you are

Me: erm...

Him: You got to be won of de fohnniest girls ah hav eva met.

Me: *breathing a sigh of relief*

Him: now. Wha time u git off? I gort some work drins en will try ta git away, lis nn, u wanna have dinna?

Me: I... er...

Him: Ah see you 7.30pm at foh east squa?

Me: right... (he smooth or what?)

Him: righ then. See you later.






He picks me up from Far East Square in a beee-hu-ti-full car.


Hiding behind anonymity means I can tell you how this was a big fucking turn-on.


Without even asking me if I was hungry or if I have a restaurant preference, he takes me to this ah-mai-zingzingzing restaurant.


Hiding behind anonymity means I can also tell you that I have already, at this point, decided he can kiss me tonight.


And then, when we get to the restaurant, he is friends with everyone! And by everyone, I meant the waiter, bartender, damn, even the chef came out to greet him. Not only that, the chef, in his thick Italian accent said:





Chef: Ahhh... Lee-am, my friend! Finallee, you is bringinger a girler to my restronter. How are you, my friends' preeedeee girlfriender? Why deeden u teller me that you were a-coming der?

Him: *jokingly* as if yoh full house ta-nigh. Yea, you twat, Let go rofher hand.





This was all too hot for me. This guy was some cool shit. And I'm not even the impressionable sort. We even had a private table!!! Wheeee...


He sits, the waiter walks me to my seat and pulls my chair out. As I lowered myself on to the chair he does it again. The long lingering once over €“ one with a good mixture of lust and hunger and the right dose of appreciation. From holding the gaze in my eyes €“ which at this point was programmed to reflect 30% coy and 70% shy, he let his eyes drop from my eyes, to my bare shoulders, to the little crease in my top right down to my thighs and said coolly,





"Dah-ling, you forgoh tha rist of ya skirt"





Damn. He was funny. And somewhere in between the wine and the banter and picking at my main course, I decided I may let him get a bit more than a kiss tonight.








To be continued.

[jaymee]

Part 2. (continued)

"Do it."



I begged. My eyes bored into his and while I said it with a tight little frown characteristic of a girl who's slightly constipated, I found myself stifling a smile that was curling up the sides of my lips.





"No. Beg me to"


He coolly said, and I turned the smile into a girlish pout, my eyes darting sideways thinking of other strategies to get him to cave in.





"ok. pleeease."


I clutched my fists, lifted them up to my throat in my typical dramatic flair.


"I beg you... Do it. Come on. Please... with a cherry on top..."


He threw his head back and laughed. A laugh that brought out the creases around his eyes and two long dimples that framed his kind face. He must be about 40, I figured.





"No. Can. Not."


I frowned. And I studied him. My hands on my throat now, fingering my collar-bone. Then I reached over, sub-consciously, and playfully patted his hand before warmly and grabbing it.





"Come on." I coaxed.


He put his hand on mine and for the first time that night, we touched.


It lasted a good 5 seconds before I pulled away, blushing.


I stood up, smoothed my skirt, adjusted my hair and said:


"I'm going to the bathroom. When I get back, you're going to do that scene from Snatch. I don't care."



Note: when I say "I don't care" to anyone, it means I have allowed myself to be reduced to a lump of whine and have chosen to take on a vulnerable stance that likens me to a puppy who's seen the bone. I am a tad unreasonable, a little bit girlish and at my attract-the-40-year-old 's best.





And I wiggled my way out of my seat. When I passed him, I stopped by his side, leaned over beside him, placed my hand on his arm and said:


"and don't forget the accent".


He looked blankly at me and smiled like a schoolboy, clearly enjoying the closeness we were sharing.










Within minutes, hours had gone by.





Through the night, our phones were ringing like a Chinese takeaway on Valentines' Day. And both of us were too polite to each other to speak for too long, and too polite to our friends to shut it. His conversation with one friend went like this:





"Yeh? Umon ay dayte.... Tha's righ. Eu erd me."


He looked right at me and I blushed.

"She is stunning mate. An shes nort ma raght hand."


I gave a chastising laugh and shook my head.

"Lis nn. We ah jus avin dinna at Seb's restront... Oh, eu wanna check on me don you, you li-el nosey fat fock."


And he looked at me and nodded, as if asking for my permission. And I just nodded in return quite blankly.

"righ. Come o-er if ya laike. I don think she'd wanta spind frighdaigh noight with an old English boy. She's a partay animal musta made plans with friends * making air inverted commas*"


and he winked at me.





Minutes later, I returned my girlfriend Anjali's missed call.





"babe! Sorry I missed your call. Am on a hot date"


and I smiled cheekily at him

"Oh, it's almost over. He's chosen to meet his friend over me! To think I was gonna let him get to first base or something tonight. *loud deliberate sigh* haha. Yes. We're just by the river. Oh, are you? Come over if you like! We can all do drinks!"


He laughed.








And we kept on flirting. It was a perfect dinner date. At some point, actually, at the precise point he tried to explain about his job to me, I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for showing up to this date. He was just so easy to be with. He put me at ease, gave me ample air time, shared some stuff about himself when asked, and asked me questions about me. It was honest, sensual, and all very mature.





And then his mate arrived.





And they broke into a never before heard, or should I say comprehendible language €“ cockney it was called (I later learned). In between the blah blah blahs and and the oh oh ohs and the ay ay ayes, I can hear faint traces of "Tha berd las nigh wus shite. Heels up to er shouldas. Beh-ah chick if shes' stolen me wallet.", and "Vince brough us some fine wine. We drank till now and um so tired um gonna go home and sleep till Tues fuggin day"... and "Wha's her name? hasn't she gort a proppa nayme like Twinkle or sumthin? She's hot.... Oh, but so s this one..." his mate gets distracted by someone who waltzed in the restaurant.





Anjali is in da house.




In her full blown hotness - clad in a dangerously tight skirt and propped up by her suspiciously smooth legs €“ Anjali, looking like the figure of 8 was at her mating peak.






And there were 4.





In between the wicked banter, the sexual connotations, and the polite conversations, even Stevie Winder could see that we were 4 inebriated spirits in a restaurant, hiding our true intentions behind wine glasses. So the most decent thing to do was...






To head to The Living Room to party it off.





Vodka shots were like free - Or at least that's how we were behaving.





We were rock stars and the dance floor was our stage. I was waving my hands in the air in the classic 1990s, I.am.intoxicated way. It's all a happy blur.


Hours later, Liam takes my hand. I swept my hair out of the way and leaned in, allowing my cat-like listening powers that can differentiate house music from human voices to take over. He said,





"I'm goin tah gooh. Old men need rest. You staigh and partaigh"


"Hey, no!"


I said. Just realizing I was actually having fun because he was watching me all night and for him to leave now would mean one front row ticket stub holder gone from my audience of... ONE.


And he said, "or if yo'd laik, I cun ah, take u someplace else u'd like ta go, but I wan tah leav".


"well, ok then. I'll stay"


"No, come. Come with me. Drink at mah place"





I was silent.





"Come on then"


he said and forcefully took me by the hand. Leaving no goodbye kisses behind.





***





When all the necessary was done, we sat politely by his sofa. By necessary, I mean I had already done a scratch-the-surface mandatory check. Despite being ruled by a head of vodka, I remember seeing an Indie Arie CD, a Shawshank Redemption DVD, a decent collection of soap bars and passing him on the cd, dvd, hygiene test. We both had a drink in the hand €“ which was really a much-needed tool in modern-day pre-foreplay instances.




"Ah wonted eu tha whole nigh..."


he said to me and leaned in. I could feel his breath on my cheek and for the first time, I caught a whiff of his aftershave. I closed my eyes, and smiled, it was a compliment, and it made me, for some reason... feel relieved.


"When you walked passed me in tha ristront, and eu stopped and touched me on tha shoulda, eu remembah?"


I nodded, looking up at him.


"tha was ma favourite par of tha nigh."


Subconsciously, I had turned to face him completely now, and with every word that he spoke, I felt more relaxed.


"and eu are such a bright one..."


He put his hand on my shoulder and reached up to hold my face. I looked down. This man had a strange calming effect on me, yet when I looked in his green eyes, all the calmness just gets blasted into a ball of nerves.


"tha eu are out on a dinna date... with me. It's unbelievable."


He pulled me closer and I was letting him completely run the show.


"I wan tah see eu again"





I opened my mouth and I had nothing to say. An epiphany hit me. I am never good with serious conversations. Turning this into a joke and a giggle fit would be my forte, but keeping it up was like asking me to kiss my elbow. I smiled like a dumb 3 year old, and said,


"Can't believe we waited to do this."





He laughed.


(I knew it. I always manage to be funny at serious moments. Argh.)





"yeah, eu are a tough one. Honestly, I neva try so hard, but I think old age has a way o makin skins thick. I'll be honest with you, I'm a male slut, and I've doon things I'm nah pruud of, and a lort of it,"


he smiled and looked up, as if a recent sexcapade just floated into his mind. He shook it off.


"but callin a person up again and again is nort ma thing. don make me do tha again."


Before I could answer, he kissed me squarely on the lips. My eyes flew open. And as quickly as it happened, it ended. He stood up and said.


"Come on then, you can sleep in the guest room. I've got towels, toothbrush, and a big t-shir for ya if eu need. Mi casa, Su casa."


And maybe the look of disappointment was clear on my face, cos he quickly added.


"or you can pick tha bet-ah option, to sleep in mine... with me".




To be continued

[Rocket J. Squirrel]

"To be continued"