THE LAST SLOW DANCE Part 2 of 3 by Nelz Agustin
"The Last Slow Dance" is part of an original unpublished novel I wrote called WHERE ANGELS FEAR. You can read it at < http://www.nelz.org/angels/ >. To read my other writings, please visit www.nelz.org. For comments or other pertinent information, please e-mail me at isaw@nelz.org. Your input and feedback are very much appreciated. Thanks for your time! -- Nelz
--six--
They had both opted to remain in the country for their honeymoon. As far as they were both concerned, there was no honeymoon. Both families had arranged a month's European tour, but the couple staunchly said no, in defiance to both their parent's wishes. Their parents could only let out a heavy sigh and let them to themselves.
Anton and Clarissa spent the next few months of their honeymoon in a cold, detached silence; so physically near and yet so abysmally far. Rarely a word passed between them. They appeared as a happily married couple at their parents' social functions, but became two totally different strangers when they arrive home. Clarissa slept in the master bedroom, while Anton was content enough to sleep in the guest room.
Anton went on with his work at the accounting firm in Makati; Clarissa still performed piano recitals in the city.
The coldness of their relationship was suffocating Anton. He wanted to get out, wanted to tell her everything about him.
But his father's words haunted him.
He kept to himself until he arrived home one evening to find Clarissa playing Beethoven's Nocturne on the grand piano.
"Good evening, Anton," she said, not looking up from the keys. "How was your day?"
"It's okay," he answered, looking at her, puzzled. She never went out of her room to welcome him home. He had gotten used to taking his meals alone in silence; he had gotten used to going straight to the guest room to fall heavily into bed and sleep without even saying goodnight to her in the other room. It was strange she was greeting him this evening, and it bothered him.
"Have you eaten?"
She drew every liquid note of the Nocturne from the keys, transforming them into a sorrowful, haunting song.
"I picked up something along the way," he said, approaching her. He let the mournful sound of the Nocturne caress his heart, filling every fiber and tendon of his body.
"What is it, Clarissa?"
Clarissa stopped in mid-tune. The house was suddenly filled with deathly silence. Anton wished he had not been brutally blunt with his question.
"Anton, we have to talk," she said, turning to him. Her voice sounded almost pleading.
Anton sat beside her on the piano bench. He took her hand. She did not withdrew.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
"I'm pregnant, Anton," she blurted out.
Anton froze. He didn't know how to react.
"Three months," she said. She lowered her eyes. "I'll be due this Christmas."
Anton stared at her, his face full of wonder and suprise.
"Clarissa...I don't know what to say! That's marvelous!"
She suddenly broke into tears. Bewildered, he took her in his arms. She sobbed on his shoulders.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, stroking her hair. "Don't you know what this means? You're going to be a mother! I'm going to be a father! We're parents...."
A father....
Anton found it so strange.
I'm a father... this can't be happening....
"Anton, you don't understand!" She looked up at him, clutching his white shirt. "I am afraid! I do not know if I would be a good mother for this child..."
Anton held her tighter.
"Clarissa, you'll make a fine mother." He brushed away her tears. "You'll be the best mother any child could ever have."
Clarissa looked at him strangely. She touched his cheek. Her fingertips were soft and feathery.
"Do you really mean that? After all that I've said and done to you?"
"Clarissa," he said, holding her hand. "I mean everything I say. For the sake of our baby, I'll forget everything that has happened since our wedding night...."
She broke into fresh tears. She held him, and kissed him.
"You're such a sweet man, Anton," she said. "I'm glad I married you."
Anton merely smiled at her. She could see happiness in his eyes, the warmth and kindness she had never bothered to discover.
She did not see, however, a trace of anguish hidden beneath his joy.
A great, heavy cloud seemed to have lifted at the news of Clarissa's pregnancy. Icy coldness was replaced with warmth; indifference turned to affection. Anton brought Clarissa all sorts of food; attending to her every whim and spoiling her. Clarissa was amused with his attention. She laughed at him when he showed up one evening carrying bagfuls of fruits; he could barely hold them all. Anton could merely smile back; he was delighted to hear her laugh for the first time since he met her.
She stopped performing due to her health. Instead, she played ceaselessly on the piano, filling every hour with the most enchanting music she could every wring out of its keys. Beethoven, Chopin, Bach--it never really mattered; she was playing for her baby and for Anton, who hovered behind her to listen. Their parents came frequently, bringing baby things in the house. The living room was soon crowded with stuffed toys, diapers, clothes and a large crib. Anton was exasperated with the large teddy bears; he complained that there was hardly enough room to move in the den. Clarissa only laughed at him; she herself had took to sorting baby clothes on top of the grand piano.
Their life was pure sweetness. They were happy for a while, even at the frantic time when their baby came into this world.
Christmas eve.
Clarissa had started feeling pain in her belly. Anton arrived home that afternoon and saw her clutching her womb, screaming for help. The maids were too flustered to do anything. Anton carried his wife and put her in the back of their car. He drove like a madman on the glittery Christmas streets of Makati. Along the way, Clarissa's water broke. Amniotic fluid stained the plush seat covers. Clarissa was steadily breathing in short blows, before she cried out again. Anton was panicking. He swerved dangerously at every corner, constantly assuring her that he would get her safely to the hospital.
They arrived at Makati Medical Center's emergency entrance, where Anton hollered that his wife was having a baby. Within seconds, the orderlies were frantically rushing her towards the delivery room. Anton was holding her hand while she kept screaming in pain.
They locked him out of the delivery room while they delivered the baby. For two hours, Anton wailed and pounded against the doors whenever he heard her scream. He demanded to be let in, saying that he is a Castillo. The orderlies only glared at him and told him to calm down.
Eventually the doctor emerged. Anton was a nervous wreck when he asked him how Clarissa was. The doctor congratulated him, saying that he is a new father of a healthy baby girl. Anton could only gape at him in shock. He asked to see his wife and baby. They let him in.
He approached Clarissa's bed, full of anxiety; unable to believe all that his happening. Clarissa smiled at him, her face drenched in sweat. She showed him their baby.
"Our little angel," she said.
Anton stared at his baby. She had all his features, but her eyes were her mother's.
"May I?"
Clarissa nodded. Anton cradled his baby delicately, afraid that he might drop her.
"She's beautful...." he murmured in awe.
"What would we name her?" she asked.
Anton didn't answer. He was so engrossed in looking at his new child.
"It's Christmas eve, darling," he said. "This is the best gift I've ever had in my life...."
The baby gave a small yawn.
Anton felt joy. Such innocent, overwhelming joy.
"Christine," he said, turning to Clarissa. "Let's name her Christine."
Clarissa smiled and nodded.
Anton cuddled the infant, playing her with his finger. The baby suddenly grasped the tickling finger. She gave a small toothless grin.
He broke into tears.
Anton didn't expect that he'd grow to love his family. He had learned to love Clarissa, and he became passionately devoted to his daughter. He stayed up all those sleepless nights, watching her. Even as Clarissa gently pleaded for him to go to sleep, he still wouldn't leave Christine.
He had grown to love them; his devotion to them filled his every waking moment.
He thought he could live a normal family life; he thought he could now settle down.
He thought he had finally become a man.
He thought he could lock his secret forever in the darkness of his heart, not wanting to admit to Clarissa, to his mother or to his father what he thought was his true nature.
He thought he could pull this off.
For the next two years, he thought he had finally changed. A perfect marriage, a beautiful daughter, a nice paying job--what more could he ask for?
He could convince himself that he had changed, and he had settled down and lived a happy family life.
But he could never deny what he really was.
--seven--
A busy office day.
Anton was looking over all the resumes of the applicants waiting to be interviewed when a name and a face caught his attention.
"Andrew," he murmured in wonder as he stared at the two by two photo stapled to the resume.
A hard angular face. A wide, white grin, devoid of braces. Gorgeous hair.
Andrew.
A lump formed in his throat.
He leaned back in his swivel chair and stared at empty space.
It was so long ago, those sanguine, restless high school days. He was sweaty and tired from his P.E. class, and he wanted to go home early. He had thought that nobody was in the classroom--everybody was still playing football under the dewy afternoon sun. The fourth year corridor was deserted. The classroom door was unlocked. He slipped inside.
His heart stopped cold with what he saw as soon as he shut the door close. His classmate Andrew was stark naked in the afternoon brightness, his body firm and lithe, his skin golden and flawless. He was in the act of pulling up his blue Jockey underwear.
Anton's mouth went dry as he ran his eyes over Andrew's body. Andrew stared back at him, his face expressionless. He straightened up and placed his hands on his hips, his blue Jockey forming an indecent bridge between his legs.
Anton could not meet Andrew's eyes. He could feel his question piercing his brain: what are you looking at?
He could not move. He could not speak.
Andrew continued staring at him. To Anton's heart-pounding excitement, he slowly smiled at him. Devilishly.
Teasing him.
Slowly, he bent down and pulled the garter of his briefs. Still, with maddening slowness, he lifted the thin fabric of the underwear upwards, the blue cloth sliding sensously over his upper legs, then his firm buttocks.
It was like watching a male strip tease, the only thing different was that he was covering what he wanted to expose.
Anton's mouth hung open, his desire burning and driving him nuts. His own organ was jutting against the taut fabric of his shorts.
Andrew cupped his stiffening cock and tucked it in his briefs. It formed an obscene bulge in his crotch.
He continued grinning at Anton.
Anton's face was flustered.
Andrew stuck his tongue out sensously, wetting his lips.
Anton felt that he could not control it any longer.
"I'm sorry," he said in a strained voice. He rushed out of the room and ran to the comfort room, the image of Andrew's sex burning in his mind. He slammed the door shut and locked it. He went into one of the cubicles and yanked down his shorts.
There, in front of the urinal, he masturbated.
Anton broke from his day-dreaming and jabbed a number on his phone.
"Rica?"
"Yes, Mr. Castillo," a clipped female voice replied.
"Tell Mr. Andrew Cortez I'll interview him this evening."
"But sir, it's after office hours...."
"I'll be working overtime tonight, Rica. He'll be the last person to be interviewed, I promise you."
One pregnant pause.
"What time, sir?"
"Seven sharp."
"I'll tell him, sir. Seven o' clock."
"Thank you, Rica."
"One other thing, sir... your wife called. She asked what time will you be arriving home."
"When she calls back, tell her I'm home by eight."
"Alright, sir. Have good evening."
"You too. Thank you."
He buzzed off.
He sat back and closed his eyes.
It would be nice to see you again, Andrew, he thought anxiously. After all those years. What would you look like now?
His hand rested calmly on his already hardening crotch.
--eight--
Clarissa was weaving her way through the after-office rush hour crowd, a cell phone in hand.
"We'll probably be a little late, Papa," she said.
"He's working overtime again?" Her father's voice sounded metallic and hollow.
"His secretary said he's interviewing somebody at seven. I thought it was a little weird--to interview someone that late. Anyway, I'm going over to his office so we could leave together."
"Just take care, honey."
"I will, Papa." She stopped at the intersection of Ayala and Paseo. The streets were chokeful of cars and buses; the sidewalks were a sea of walking, corporate-dressed humanity.
"Has Christine taken her vitamins? That's good. We'll be there by eight. Yes, I will... thanks. Bye." She turned off her phone and strode briskly towards the building where Anton worked.
Seven o' clock.
Somebody rapped on the door.
"Come in," Anton said.
A tall young man entered. He wore a crisp white shirt, a red striped tie and brown pleated pants. Muscles stretched the fabric of his shirt. His hard, angular face was tight with nervousness.
Andrew.
"Mr. Castillo?" His voice was low and rich.
Anton smiled at him. "Let us drop the formalities, Andrew. Have a seat."
Andrew's face eased into a relieved smile. He sat in front of Anton.
"How are you doing, Andrew?" Anton began, gazing at his face.
God, I want to kiss him now!
"What have you been up to since we've graduated?"
"I have been an account executive at AdWorks Advertising," he said, staring back at him with the same intensity. "I've heard about the fabulous benefits your company offers, so I decided to apply for marketing executive."
"You do know it is quite hard to get into this company," Anton muttered gravely, taking in Andrew's gaze. "We're looking for highly competent men who can take on the pressures of this industry. Men who can survive. For every hundred applicants we screen, there would be two that would pass my interview."
"So what are you saying?"
Anton gestured at his resume. "I would have to evaluate what you have done in AdWorks. And I would have to know the quality of work you produced over there."
Andrew dropped his gaze and sighed wearily. Anton looked puzzled.
"What is it?"
"I have to be honest with you, Anton," Andrew muttered. "The reason I left AdWorks is that I could not handle the account they assigned to me. They had to let me go. They really thought I was incompetent."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Anton said tonelessly.
Andrew looked at him. "I heard you were a supervisor here, so I thought, maybe, you know...."
"That I'd take you in because you were once my high school classmate?" he finished for him. He sighed heavily. "Andrew, I wished it were that easy. I have my integrity to protect. You would have to impress me with your credentials."
Andrew did not speak for a moment. Anton still stared at him, feeling electric shivers coursing through his veins.
"Are we alone in this office?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes," Anton replied, looking at his watch. "It's after seven. All my staff have all gone home. Why do you ask?"
Andrew slowly stood up. He cast a sideway glance at the door. He turned to Anton. He hunched over him, his palms flat on his table. Anton looked at him quizzically.
"What would it take for me to pass this interview?" Andrew asked slowly.
Seductively.
Anton swallowed. His hands suddenly felt cold.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You said I have to show my credentials," he said mockingly, a devilish grin starting to spread over his face.
He cupped his crotch.
Anton stared at Andrew's cupped crotch. Then he looked up at him.
"If you think you could get away with that, you are mistaken. I should send you out of here this instant!"
Andrew gave him a smirk. Still gazing at him with lustful intesity, he loosened his tie. He unbluckled his belt.
"Don't be coy, Anton," he said in a half-whisper. "I know you want me. Ever since you broke into our classroom back in high school and stared at my naked body, you wanted me. I can see it in your eyes...."
Anton could hardly move. His mouth went dry.
"Why else would you want to interview me in the evening, when all your staff had gone home?"
"I never--"
Andrew suddenly grabbed his arm, forcing him to stand up.
"Let go of me!" Anton struggled. "I'm warning you--I'm calling security!"
"I don't think so," Andrew's voice was steel-cold.
He held him up until their faces were close to each other.
"I know you want me," he said again, softly this time. "I'm giving you the chance to savor me. Just let me pass this interview."
Anton's lip trembled. "Andrew! I'm married... You know I cannot do that..."
Andrew held Anton's handsome face and kissed his trembling lips feverishly. Anton stood frozen for a second, then he threw his arms around Andrew's muscular back. He kissed him back with furious intensity, sucking his mouth, their tongues dueling in their own spit.
Andrew broke their kiss and ran his lips over Anton's face, chin, and neck, his tongue darting and lapping at his sweet-salty skin.
"Andrew...." Anton moaned. He fumbled with Andrew's necktie, unknotting it and tossing it aside. He unbuttoned his shirt, spread it open and sucked his clavicle, his broad, muscular chest, his pink, taut nipples.
Andrew groaned.
"I'm yours, Anton," he breathed in a husky voice. He placed his hands on Anton's broad shoulders and pushed him down. "All yours... waiting to be tasted..."
He pressed Anton's head in his groin and slowly gyrated. Anton went wild. His hands scrambled to unzip Andrew's pants. He pulled it down.
Blue Jockey briefs.
Anton lapped hungrily at the thin fabric, wetting it with his saliva. Andrew's thick eight inches strained and bulged against the blue cloth.
"Aaah!" Andrew gasped. "Take me now!" He grasped Anton's hair.
Anton tore Andrew's briefs, freeing his cock. It sprang and stood solidly in the air.
Anton took him in his mouth.
Andrew continued pushing and gyrating his hips at Anton's face, uttering glutteral cries. Anton sucked ravenously, clasping and squeezing Andrew's buttocks, savoring his musky scent.
Andrew pumped Anton's face for several minutes before he flooded Anton's mouth. Anton kept licking and swallowing.
"Take me, Anton," Andrew whispered frantically, kicking off his pants. He laid down on the plush wall-to-wall carpeting of Anton's office and spread his legs.
"I want you inside me, now!"
Anton shed his clothes quickly and knelt down before Andrew's spread legs. He held both legs roughly over his shoulders and aimed for Andrew's waiting anus.
He entered him.
"Could you tell me where Anton Castillo's office is?" Clarissa asked, beaming politely at the elderly guard stationed at the building's lobby. The guard looked up and smiled back.
"Whom, may I ask, is visiting?"
"I"m his wife, Clarissa."
The guard nodded and briefly looked at the building directory. He pointed to the elevator.
"Fourth floor, then to your left. You can't miss it. He has his name engraved on the door."
"Thank you," she said, turning towards the elevator. "And have a good evening."
"You too, ma'am," the guard waved.
Clarissa got inside the elevator and pressed fourth floor.
The hallway was quite silent when the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor. She turned to her left and saw a door with Anton's name engraved in a brass plate. She walked briskly towards it.
She was about to knock when she heard the moaning sounds.
She stood still and listened intently. She stared at door, unable to believe what she was hearing. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she placed her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it.
It turned easily. She suddenly swung the door wide open.
She saw her naked, sweaty husband furiously pumping Andrew's anus.
She could not speak, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. She watched them grind their bodies furiously into each other, oblivious to her intrusion.
Anton gave one last pelvic shove and spurted inside Andrew, who also came, spraying Anton on his chest and shoulders. The two were trembling and shuddering in their orgasmic throes, bellowing loudly.
Clarissa was disgusted; she was nauseated. She wanted to throw up.
Andrew saw her. He held Anton's arm.
Anton turned to her, and paled.
Clarissa suddenly found her voice.
"Don't you ever come near me again, you pervert!" she cried, backing away.
"Clarissa...." Anton stood up, his trim, muscular body glistened with sweat and semen. He started to approach her but stopped when a heavy object flew past his head, missing him by inches. It crashed against the far wall.
She held a ceramic vase in her hand, her body taut and poised, ready to throw it if Anton took another step.
"Why, Anton?" she yelled, fire was in her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Clarissa...."
She hurled the vase at him. Anton ducked. It hit Andrew squarely on his chest.
"Go to hell!" she screamed, fleeing from his office. Anton ran swiftly outside, still naked.
"Clarissa!" he yelled. "Clarissa! I can explain!"
The elevator doors had closed by the time he got there. He pounded vainly on the steel doors; then stopped. He looked up despairingly at the flashing numbers; three, two, then the ground floor. He hung his head and closed his eyes; he felt like weeping.
He stood naked and sweating before the elevator doors for some time. He heard movement, then felt a hand on his left shoulder.
He turned and saw Andrew, who was already dressed. He was clutching Anton's shirt. Anton stared at it, then at him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, unable to meet his gaze. "Get dressed. You'll catch cold."
Wordlessly, he took his shirt from Andrew and slipped it on. He walked back to his office, with Andrew following him.
"Anton," he said again, uneasy at Anton's silence. "I'm sorry. I should have never done that... I didn't know...."
"Get out of here," Anton returned flatly, his voice cold and hoarse. He pulled up his underwear, then his pants. He pulled on his socks, then stuffed his feet into his shoes.
"I didn't know, Anton, I'm sorry...."
In one swift motion, Anton sprang up, brought his fist and smashed Andrew's cheek. Andrew tumbled backwards and sprawled on the floor. Before he could stand up, Anton was at him again. He grabbed Andrew's shirt and pinned him against the wall.
"I do not want to see you again," Anton hissed menacingly. Andrew's eyes were wide with shock. A trail of blood was oozing from his nose.
"If you ever come here or near my family again, I swear I will have you hunted down and properly disposed of. Do you understand?"
Shivers ran down Andrew's spine. He nodded vehemently.
"Nobody will know what had befallen you. You shall cease to exist...."
"Anton, please let me go...."
He couldn't bear look at Anton's piercing eyes; he could feel the chilling truth in his dangerously black glare.
"I will have your dick cut off and stuffed in your mouth...."
Andrew shuddered. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.
"Anton, please...."
Anton brutally shoved his fist in Andrew's abdomen. Andrew cried out and doubled over.
"Get out!" Anton thundered.
Half-scrambling and half-running, Andrew got to his feet and ran out of Anton's office. He ran past the elevator and disappeared when he clambered down the building stairs.
Silence.
Anton slowly sat down, his back against the wall. He brought his knees to his chest.
The sound of his weeping echoed hauntingly in the gloom and silence of his office.
End of Part 2
Copyright (C) 1996, 2003 by Nelz Agustin. www.nelz.org