Monday, September 29, 2008
Ballatine
(Sequel to “New Play”)
“Ballatine”- this Singaporean neighbourhood and I have a clandestine affinity.
The locale first made its debut in enhancing my Singapore geographic knowledge when the Old Boy and I found ourselves frequenting a particular Hotel 81 in that vicinity. “Ballatine” thus became our very first secret code word for our appointed haunt where we spent many a late afternoon and evening rendezvous-ing.
*****
On a Thursday the week before I left for Nepal, the Old Boy texted to say that he was leaving for Malaysia with the domestics and wouldn't be in touch until I return from my grand trip 39 days later. In the text, the Old Boy said dear please take care ok. I was resigned to my fate and decided that it was probably for the best to prep me from forgetting him leading up to my trip of major self-reconstruction.
That evening, coincidentally, Big M suggested meeting up but late unfortunately due to work.
Anything but me being surrounded by my agonising thoughts would go in the late of night. Yes, that was fine I said since I am a lady of the night.
*****
“Would you like to check out my new place?” Big M asked as he was driving.
“Sure, why not?” I replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I love to check out new houses and apartments.”
I soon learnt that Big M has bought a penthouse in the vicinity “Ballatine”.
*****
We swiped his card and the automated gate opened before us. It was a new block of about thirty apartments that has yet to be inhibited by its occupants.
We took a lift up to the seventeenth storey. The door opened to Big M's apartment. In the dark since he has yet to install lights to his apartment, he took me on a grand tour around his place.
*****
I was soon to learn that Big M and his wife have bought two penthouses one on top of the other. The engineers were in the midst of building a staircase to connect the two apartments to become a two-storey abode. Interior planning by designers are also underway to turn this luxurious living space into quality and gracious living where dinner parties with the view of the city skyline will be entertained. I inquired politely if his Singaporean Chinese wife had also educated him with the importance of incorporating feng shui into the layout planning. Yes, that would also be taken care off by the interior decorators, he said.
Big M first led me to the balcony where we took in the expansive view of the skyline ahead of us.His hand guided me lightly by my waist and slowly began to wrap itself around me. I quickly walked ahead of him and continued onwards to explore the other areas of the house and found myself mesmerised in the vast living space and was mentally labouring over the interior decoration potential of the apartment. The apartments were definitely an interior designer's dream playground. I got excited and started suggesting ideas of what he could do with the place. He began to indulge me and further asked me a few more questions for suggestion of how he could make minor changes to some parts of the place.
At one stage, I checked out a bathroom and as I stared out the window, I noticed that in the opposite building, we could make out the translucent full body silhouette of a lady showering in her penthouse.
“Your penthouse certainly have a view,” I said tongue-in-cheek.
Big M took a double take and suddenly became aware of what my comment meant.
“Ah indeed!” We laughed.
We continued roaming the kitchen.
“Would you come here again if I invited you?” Big M eyed me keenly.
“Yes of course, when you invite me for your house warming party when the house is done, I'll definitely come. Why not?” I replied casually (and definitely innocently).
Throughout this “open house” inspection, Big M asked me the same question over a few times, seeminingly searching for some affirmation that I wasn't being alert to.
But as seconds began ticking by, I slowly became aware of the situation I have unwittingly led myself in.
As we sojourned to another mini balcony and I stood by the railings checking out the roof above, I found Big M standing behind me, his right hand stroking my waist and felt his left fingers doing the talking, lifting my black dress lightly, moving wantonly underneath it and feeling up my ass.
I pulled his hand away and turned to stare at him.
“Don't do this!”
Big M's withdrawn hand returned to my waist. He cocked his head to one side, reached over and kissed me lightly on one cheek.
We continued our grand tour of his not-so-humble abode. There was a room reserved specially for his parents who come to visit often enough. We travelled up to the topmost level via a private lift.Another one of the rooms with a view in the corner was about to be converted into a walk-in wardrobe to store the precious fashion apparel of Big M and his wife. The wall between this room and the next adjoining room was to be knocked down to become the master bedroom.
Big M and I then moved on to the vast balcony where he told me where they were going to build a barbecue area in one corner. He was a typical Aussie bloke, I told. What's an Aussie without a barbe? He asked if he should put two big tables to fill up the massive space he had. No way, this is not a Chinese restaurant, I joked. I suggested putting a long outdoor dining table out here- it would be good when he hosts dinner parties. There should be enough space for the waiting staff to walk around and I started playing the waitress role and walked around an imaginary table to serve plates. Ah how very natural, he said eyeing me.
On one side of the wall, there was a water feature with blue mosaic tiles. Big M said the interior decorators are ripping them off. What do you suggest I do? Oh, how about putting a shower head here agaimst a backdrop of autumn brown and camel shades of tiles instead to give a zen, contemporary feel. Maybe you should build a swimming pool here, I added excited at my own vision at interior decoration.
Big M looked at me and said, oh yes we do have a pool. He led me carefully round the right corner of the wall that led to a further area than I have noticed . I found myself staring at a slim contemporary looking reflective pool. You like, he asked cautiously, looking into my eyes which I thought was a self conscious attempt to make sure he had somewhat made a good enough impression . Yes, it's awesome. Very impressed, I replied in my usual half-mocking tone.
I stood at the edge of the balcony to take in the view of the world ahead of us. Big M stood behind me and started hugging me. He tried lifting my dress up again. I pulled his hand away.
“Why not?” He whispered softly into my ear, all hot and bothered.
“Cos you didn't ask for permission...”
“Can I kiss you then?” Big M spoke breathlessly.
He turned me to him and drew my face towards his and inserted his tongue into my mouth.
Anything to forget about my pain with the Old Boy....
Big M started pushing me gently and pinned me lightly against the wall next to the pool. I felt the hard throb of his manhood against me. I rubbed myself against him, one of his thigh between my legs. His breath quickened and he moaned softly.
Lightly lifting up my dress, he watched me lustily and whispered in his breathless tone if he could please have a look at what was underneath my dress.
I watched him seductively.
Part of me felt detached as I was pinned against the wall, like I was a third person watching a man in heat. I wasn't really there.
Big M gasped lustily as he stared at my black lolita-eque polka dotted netted panties with pink girlish ribbons. He attempted to touch my pussy.
“See, no touch,” I teased.
“Okay, okay...” Big M uttered those words pantingly and desirously.
The loose spaghetti straps started sliding off my shoulders exposing my black bra.
“Oh my god...” Big M sounded like he was going to have a cardiac arrest.
I laughed mockingly.
Big M reached out his hand and attempted to touch the bra cups.
“Don't you touch my breasts.” My tone hardened defensively.
“Oh sexy, it's just the outside...”
“No.”
“Okay, okay, I won't...” Big M stood admiring them lustily like a salivating bulldog.
Big M then flipped me to face the wall and lifted my dress once more caressing my ass. Between oohing and aahing gaspingly, he confessed how much he loved my ass and began thrusting himself at me. All this while, my left fingers were still gripping on to my black handbag.
I found myself feeling bored and decided to turn towards him lightly brushing my hands past his engorged beast waiting to do a jack-in-a-box spring out of his trousers.I pulled him against me and our tongues interacted for at least a good minute or so.
Clumsily and lustfully, Big M began unzipping himself. Then he guarded my hand to feel his erected dick, his half suffering expression so lost in carnal desire pleaded me to wank the hell out of him.
With the sinister of my hand still holding onto his bag, I had the spare use of my right. I masturbated the overly excited Big M whom at this stage looked like he was going to either become a case of heart attack on me or explode his cum all over my black terry towelling dress. Both were equally undesirable outcomes given that my astute mother does my laundry and the latter option might well be a death knell to my late night social life from thereon (yes, I am almost 30 but household protocol still rules!).
With the quickening of his breath, I knew that Big M was climaxing to the point of no return. In a way, I wanted to get it over and done with. The “third person” in me felt like I was a paid worker being procured for physical pleasures. My soul bordered on being detached and slightly amused.
“Don't shoot on my dress.” I commanded at the height of his breathlessness. “My mum does my laundry.”
“Ok, Ok...” His voice thrilled off. He was so gone.
“Ahhh...” Big M finally relieved of himself. When he cummed, he attempted aiming at the wall. My right hand was soaked with the white stuff. He was definitely a virile man. Part of the cum hit my newly bought slippers and I was definitely getting a little put off at the marring of my new footwear and the contact of cum with my feet.
I reached into my handbag and got tissues out for us. I gave him one to wipe himself and I began wiping my soiled fingers and then reached down to clean my stained right feet.
Big M pulled me to him again and kissed me.
I obliged for a bit and then retreated.
“Let's go.” I decided for us.
As we walked around the edge of the pool, I bent down and swinged my right hand playfully in the water to wash away the remnants of cum.
“Now your pool is filled with your cum.” I teased and gave him a half smile. Privately, I amused myself with the thought of Big M and his wife having a dip in the tainted pool.
Big M looked at me searchingly, a little surprised like I had made a shocking or overly bold statement of sorts.
“That was soooo good... Did you enjoy it too?”
“It's okay. Wanking is not quite my specialty.”
“So what is?By the way, I was told I am great in giving cunninglingus...” Big M eyed me suggestively, hoping that this would eventuate into yet another proposition to take place at a different part of the penthouse.
“Ahh... that also happens to be my specialty...” In the dark, I gave Big M a cheeky half smile.
“So you don't enjoy wanking?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Cos' it's tiring to my hand.” I replied matter-of-factly.
Big M was slightly taken aback by my candidness.
“Let's go now. After you have enough of your fun, it's my turn now. I need a drink.”
So we left the apartment despite his initial desire to prolong our rendezvous there.
Quietly, I noted that Big M was married no more than six months at that stage with an unrenovated home that was eventually going to undergo a major facelift for it to be more “live-able” for these highly powered successful pair and which was to epitomise the domestic bliss of their “picture perfect” life. But bringing another woman home with the intention to rendezvous in this barely finished home, that appeared to be jinx-ing the eternal marital vows. Call me superstitious but then again, there is also an element of logic there.
I am also of the belief one doesn't shit where one eats.
*****
We headed to town for a drink. No more than a hundred metres from Big M's apartment block, we drove past a Hotel 81 and noticed that it was there that the Old Boy and I used to spend many an afternoon rendezvousing, making sweet and passionate love.
I felt my heart squeeze once more, remembering that the Old Boy had bid his farewell that morning and the angst that I felt of the inevitable change that might result from my grand pilgrimage to Nepal in one week's time. The emotional conflict of having to let go and the inability to let go. What if I did let go after 39 days or what if I haven't let go after 39 days? I feared the change which ironically could give me that last glimmer of hope to dispel my suffering but I wasn't ready to let go. I couldn't. However, the latter outcome also instilled anxiety because it also meant that I have become a lost cause. It would just become an expensive and unfulfilled exercise.
I took a deep breath and another quick look at the Hotel 81 in “Ballatine”. Then I turned my head straight ahead to try focusing on the road ahead of us.
*****
Well, so now “Ballatine”, a hitherto unfamiliar suburb to my limited exposure of Singapore geography in the other side of town, will forever form an imprint in my memory of cladestine outings.
How about a rendezvous in “Ballatine”? The penthouse or Hotel 81, if someone were to proposition me now.
I will take Hotel 81 with the haunting memories of the Old Boy and I.
Anytime. Without a shadow of doubt.
Oh, give me “Ballatine” like the old days once more.
(Sequel to “New Play”)
“Ballatine”- this Singaporean neighbourhood and I have a clandestine affinity.
The locale first made its debut in enhancing my Singapore geographic knowledge when the Old Boy and I found ourselves frequenting a particular Hotel 81 in that vicinity. “Ballatine” thus became our very first secret code word for our appointed haunt where we spent many a late afternoon and evening rendezvous-ing.
*****
On a Thursday the week before I left for Nepal, the Old Boy texted to say that he was leaving for Malaysia with the domestics and wouldn't be in touch until I return from my grand trip 39 days later. In the text, the Old Boy said dear please take care ok. I was resigned to my fate and decided that it was probably for the best to prep me from forgetting him leading up to my trip of major self-reconstruction.
That evening, coincidentally, Big M suggested meeting up but late unfortunately due to work.
Anything but me being surrounded by my agonising thoughts would go in the late of night. Yes, that was fine I said since I am a lady of the night.
*****
“Would you like to check out my new place?” Big M asked as he was driving.
“Sure, why not?” I replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I love to check out new houses and apartments.”
I soon learnt that Big M has bought a penthouse in the vicinity “Ballatine”.
*****
We swiped his card and the automated gate opened before us. It was a new block of about thirty apartments that has yet to be inhibited by its occupants.
We took a lift up to the seventeenth storey. The door opened to Big M's apartment. In the dark since he has yet to install lights to his apartment, he took me on a grand tour around his place.
*****
I was soon to learn that Big M and his wife have bought two penthouses one on top of the other. The engineers were in the midst of building a staircase to connect the two apartments to become a two-storey abode. Interior planning by designers are also underway to turn this luxurious living space into quality and gracious living where dinner parties with the view of the city skyline will be entertained. I inquired politely if his Singaporean Chinese wife had also educated him with the importance of incorporating feng shui into the layout planning. Yes, that would also be taken care off by the interior decorators, he said.
Big M first led me to the balcony where we took in the expansive view of the skyline ahead of us.His hand guided me lightly by my waist and slowly began to wrap itself around me. I quickly walked ahead of him and continued onwards to explore the other areas of the house and found myself mesmerised in the vast living space and was mentally labouring over the interior decoration potential of the apartment. The apartments were definitely an interior designer's dream playground. I got excited and started suggesting ideas of what he could do with the place. He began to indulge me and further asked me a few more questions for suggestion of how he could make minor changes to some parts of the place.
At one stage, I checked out a bathroom and as I stared out the window, I noticed that in the opposite building, we could make out the translucent full body silhouette of a lady showering in her penthouse.
“Your penthouse certainly have a view,” I said tongue-in-cheek.
Big M took a double take and suddenly became aware of what my comment meant.
“Ah indeed!” We laughed.
We continued roaming the kitchen.
“Would you come here again if I invited you?” Big M eyed me keenly.
“Yes of course, when you invite me for your house warming party when the house is done, I'll definitely come. Why not?” I replied casually (and definitely innocently).
Throughout this “open house” inspection, Big M asked me the same question over a few times, seeminingly searching for some affirmation that I wasn't being alert to.
But as seconds began ticking by, I slowly became aware of the situation I have unwittingly led myself in.
As we sojourned to another mini balcony and I stood by the railings checking out the roof above, I found Big M standing behind me, his right hand stroking my waist and felt his left fingers doing the talking, lifting my black dress lightly, moving wantonly underneath it and feeling up my ass.
I pulled his hand away and turned to stare at him.
“Don't do this!”
Big M's withdrawn hand returned to my waist. He cocked his head to one side, reached over and kissed me lightly on one cheek.
We continued our grand tour of his not-so-humble abode. There was a room reserved specially for his parents who come to visit often enough. We travelled up to the topmost level via a private lift.Another one of the rooms with a view in the corner was about to be converted into a walk-in wardrobe to store the precious fashion apparel of Big M and his wife. The wall between this room and the next adjoining room was to be knocked down to become the master bedroom.
Big M and I then moved on to the vast balcony where he told me where they were going to build a barbecue area in one corner. He was a typical Aussie bloke, I told. What's an Aussie without a barbe? He asked if he should put two big tables to fill up the massive space he had. No way, this is not a Chinese restaurant, I joked. I suggested putting a long outdoor dining table out here- it would be good when he hosts dinner parties. There should be enough space for the waiting staff to walk around and I started playing the waitress role and walked around an imaginary table to serve plates. Ah how very natural, he said eyeing me.
On one side of the wall, there was a water feature with blue mosaic tiles. Big M said the interior decorators are ripping them off. What do you suggest I do? Oh, how about putting a shower head here agaimst a backdrop of autumn brown and camel shades of tiles instead to give a zen, contemporary feel. Maybe you should build a swimming pool here, I added excited at my own vision at interior decoration.
Big M looked at me and said, oh yes we do have a pool. He led me carefully round the right corner of the wall that led to a further area than I have noticed . I found myself staring at a slim contemporary looking reflective pool. You like, he asked cautiously, looking into my eyes which I thought was a self conscious attempt to make sure he had somewhat made a good enough impression . Yes, it's awesome. Very impressed, I replied in my usual half-mocking tone.
I stood at the edge of the balcony to take in the view of the world ahead of us. Big M stood behind me and started hugging me. He tried lifting my dress up again. I pulled his hand away.
“Why not?” He whispered softly into my ear, all hot and bothered.
“Cos you didn't ask for permission...”
“Can I kiss you then?” Big M spoke breathlessly.
He turned me to him and drew my face towards his and inserted his tongue into my mouth.
Anything to forget about my pain with the Old Boy....
Big M started pushing me gently and pinned me lightly against the wall next to the pool. I felt the hard throb of his manhood against me. I rubbed myself against him, one of his thigh between my legs. His breath quickened and he moaned softly.
Lightly lifting up my dress, he watched me lustily and whispered in his breathless tone if he could please have a look at what was underneath my dress.
I watched him seductively.
Part of me felt detached as I was pinned against the wall, like I was a third person watching a man in heat. I wasn't really there.
Big M gasped lustily as he stared at my black lolita-eque polka dotted netted panties with pink girlish ribbons. He attempted to touch my pussy.
“See, no touch,” I teased.
“Okay, okay...” Big M uttered those words pantingly and desirously.
The loose spaghetti straps started sliding off my shoulders exposing my black bra.
“Oh my god...” Big M sounded like he was going to have a cardiac arrest.
I laughed mockingly.
Big M reached out his hand and attempted to touch the bra cups.
“Don't you touch my breasts.” My tone hardened defensively.
“Oh sexy, it's just the outside...”
“No.”
“Okay, okay, I won't...” Big M stood admiring them lustily like a salivating bulldog.
Big M then flipped me to face the wall and lifted my dress once more caressing my ass. Between oohing and aahing gaspingly, he confessed how much he loved my ass and began thrusting himself at me. All this while, my left fingers were still gripping on to my black handbag.
I found myself feeling bored and decided to turn towards him lightly brushing my hands past his engorged beast waiting to do a jack-in-a-box spring out of his trousers.I pulled him against me and our tongues interacted for at least a good minute or so.
Clumsily and lustfully, Big M began unzipping himself. Then he guarded my hand to feel his erected dick, his half suffering expression so lost in carnal desire pleaded me to wank the hell out of him.
With the sinister of my hand still holding onto his bag, I had the spare use of my right. I masturbated the overly excited Big M whom at this stage looked like he was going to either become a case of heart attack on me or explode his cum all over my black terry towelling dress. Both were equally undesirable outcomes given that my astute mother does my laundry and the latter option might well be a death knell to my late night social life from thereon (yes, I am almost 30 but household protocol still rules!).
With the quickening of his breath, I knew that Big M was climaxing to the point of no return. In a way, I wanted to get it over and done with. The “third person” in me felt like I was a paid worker being procured for physical pleasures. My soul bordered on being detached and slightly amused.
“Don't shoot on my dress.” I commanded at the height of his breathlessness. “My mum does my laundry.”
“Ok, Ok...” His voice thrilled off. He was so gone.
“Ahhh...” Big M finally relieved of himself. When he cummed, he attempted aiming at the wall. My right hand was soaked with the white stuff. He was definitely a virile man. Part of the cum hit my newly bought slippers and I was definitely getting a little put off at the marring of my new footwear and the contact of cum with my feet.
I reached into my handbag and got tissues out for us. I gave him one to wipe himself and I began wiping my soiled fingers and then reached down to clean my stained right feet.
Big M pulled me to him again and kissed me.
I obliged for a bit and then retreated.
“Let's go.” I decided for us.
As we walked around the edge of the pool, I bent down and swinged my right hand playfully in the water to wash away the remnants of cum.
“Now your pool is filled with your cum.” I teased and gave him a half smile. Privately, I amused myself with the thought of Big M and his wife having a dip in the tainted pool.
Big M looked at me searchingly, a little surprised like I had made a shocking or overly bold statement of sorts.
“That was soooo good... Did you enjoy it too?”
“It's okay. Wanking is not quite my specialty.”
“So what is?By the way, I was told I am great in giving cunninglingus...” Big M eyed me suggestively, hoping that this would eventuate into yet another proposition to take place at a different part of the penthouse.
“Ahh... that also happens to be my specialty...” In the dark, I gave Big M a cheeky half smile.
“So you don't enjoy wanking?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Cos' it's tiring to my hand.” I replied matter-of-factly.
Big M was slightly taken aback by my candidness.
“Let's go now. After you have enough of your fun, it's my turn now. I need a drink.”
So we left the apartment despite his initial desire to prolong our rendezvous there.
Quietly, I noted that Big M was married no more than six months at that stage with an unrenovated home that was eventually going to undergo a major facelift for it to be more “live-able” for these highly powered successful pair and which was to epitomise the domestic bliss of their “picture perfect” life. But bringing another woman home with the intention to rendezvous in this barely finished home, that appeared to be jinx-ing the eternal marital vows. Call me superstitious but then again, there is also an element of logic there.
I am also of the belief one doesn't shit where one eats.
*****
We headed to town for a drink. No more than a hundred metres from Big M's apartment block, we drove past a Hotel 81 and noticed that it was there that the Old Boy and I used to spend many an afternoon rendezvousing, making sweet and passionate love.
I felt my heart squeeze once more, remembering that the Old Boy had bid his farewell that morning and the angst that I felt of the inevitable change that might result from my grand pilgrimage to Nepal in one week's time. The emotional conflict of having to let go and the inability to let go. What if I did let go after 39 days or what if I haven't let go after 39 days? I feared the change which ironically could give me that last glimmer of hope to dispel my suffering but I wasn't ready to let go. I couldn't. However, the latter outcome also instilled anxiety because it also meant that I have become a lost cause. It would just become an expensive and unfulfilled exercise.
I took a deep breath and another quick look at the Hotel 81 in “Ballatine”. Then I turned my head straight ahead to try focusing on the road ahead of us.
*****
Well, so now “Ballatine”, a hitherto unfamiliar suburb to my limited exposure of Singapore geography in the other side of town, will forever form an imprint in my memory of cladestine outings.
How about a rendezvous in “Ballatine”? The penthouse or Hotel 81, if someone were to proposition me now.
I will take Hotel 81 with the haunting memories of the Old Boy and I.
Anytime. Without a shadow of doubt.
Oh, give me “Ballatine” like the old days once more.
