Date: Sun, 1 Jun 2003 19:53:43 +0800 (CST)
From: Nelz Agustin <isaw@nelz.org>
Subject: The Last Slow Dance Part 2

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"The Last Slow Dance" is part of an original unpublished novel I wrote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