Red Room Where the Writers Are

when they set out to Haven Valley, Lalom did not just think it would be fun. There could be no better companion on the road than Youssef. The Sentry, though talkative, did not fill the gap that a mate would have occupied. The nostalgia for the lost moments with Youssef could not be helped lightly by the mere thought that they will certainly meet. The Sentry tried to allay lalom's sense of loss with constant attention, but the truth was, he thought, they were of two different worlds completely. Lam seemed to be missing Youssef also. This was hard to assume, but Lalom felt it from his change of attitude. He slept most of the hours. Gyrfalcon was only seen occasionally. The Sentry explained that Gyrfalcon was a bird of prey, it was unusual to find it loitering around. After about twenty leagues of walking, Lalom's throat was parched. He was equally feeling lame and wearing out. This time, they were gradually leaving behind the forestland, the wide sky loomed ahead of them. They occasionally heard the wash of the river running down the glen. Evening was close. "We better camp here, close by the forest. The badlands stretch many leaugues from here. We can traverse it tomorrow." Lalom only grunted. He was also hungry. They sat down to eat. And when they were done. The Sentry took out a tin from his back pack containing some fruits. "These are huckleberry fruits" he said "Have some. They are good. Will refresh your mind and body." A broad smile ran over his face that left a soothing sensation on Lalom. "Thanks" He said smiling. "Know you think and miss your friend. He was a nice chap" "He still is" Lalom said colly. "Yeah. You definitely right. Why not talk to him?" "How can I? He is way lost in the wild parts of the forest. Don't knw what may happen to him. And if those ..." "Never mind. He sure will get himself along pretty well." "I hope you." "By the way, why can't you send him a message?" The idea rammed itself into Lalom like a thunder bolt. Instinctively his mind went to gyrfalcon. But the bird did not speak any human language. He was sure that Gyrfalcon could understand him, but the trouble was how she was going to convey his thoughts to Youssef. Turning the idea over his head, the Sentry asked him abruptly: "Do you know how to write boy?" "Leanrt a bit. Trouble is, i have nothing to write on." "Never mind. We will find a way" The Sentry said swinging himself off the ground. "Gee whiz! This is gonna be damn easy" With his sword, the Sentry pealed the bark of a tree trunk, neatly. There were dry twigs growing with the undergrowth of the forest. He cut one with a hrad pith and sharpened it to a pointed end. "there you are" He said, handing the sharpened twigh and the bark of the tree to Lalom. The harder part was what to write on the bark. He mind went reeling with memories of Youssef's departure. He pulled himself together. "I wonder if he will be able to read this" "Go on boy. At least he will understand that you miss him so. Sometimes it is not what we say that matters. But the effort to be there." "Get it" Sitting comfortably, he placed the slate on his tigh, it was still wet... and just as naturally as he could, trying to divest himself of emotion, he wrote: Dear Youssef, I don't know where you are now. We are near the Pricks, bound for Haven Valley. I regret any inconvenience i might have caused you. But i want you to know that I felt so terrible when you walked out on me. I just want to believe that that isn't the end of our journey. Wherever you are, we will meet. And the journey will continue. Friends are forever. Lalom "Now where is your bird boy?" "Dunno" "Call it." "dunno how" "what name did you give it?" "I just call her gyrfalcon. Can't fancy any name better than that." "But you got many gyrfalcons out there." "Well, I saw only one. And that is mine" Lalom felt triumphant. And the old man acquisce. "Then call her" He farted. Lalom burst out laughing loud. "Not funny boy. Had told you this isn't funny at all. Have got a lot of that weed smoke inside." He was laughing. That faint ray of the child he once was reflecting in his almost closed eyes. Lalom lifted his thoughts to gyrfalcon, and as though whispering in his mind, pronounced her name without uttering words. "I need you now" He murmured, half to himself. "What boy?" the Sentry asked: "I am just by your side"

"Sorry I did not mean you"

"Aye" he sniffed and farted again. "Your lofty gyrfalcon" And as the spoke, the bird came down in a sloping curve, its light wings spread out, flapping slowly. It settled on Lalom's shoulder. "You almost pushed me over." he exclaimed "you have been around eating a lot of worms." He said holding Gyrfalcon closely at his gaze. "Listen to me. This stuff here is a note for Youssef. I want you to bear it to him as swiftly as you can. It is very important. Search him. Find him. Give it to him. Youssef, that our friend with that kinky knotted hair like mind. Remember?" The bird stared at him with its sharp red eyes. And drooped its head. Lalom proceeded to tie the letter on its back. But it seemed to be a tedius task. The weigh may hinder the free movement of its wings. It might also strain its wing bones. The Sentry watched without a word. "Gyrfalcon, get it with your claws" He said placing the bird down, its claws resting on the parcel. They both watched the bird taking off. It disappeared from their sight. The Sentry then said: "Friendship is the rarest gift we receive upon earth. Better be cursed than losing a true friend. But one never keeps a friend if he doesn't let that friend be what he was meant to be." That sounded like food for thought. Lalom did not comment. The heavens loomed with the everlasting stars. The moon shone paisibly from above. It was time to rest. They bade each other good night. And went to sleep.

the bohemian bar
the fight
les retrouvailles
the loss of the medal
Gyrfalcon

When Lalom woke up, the sunrays were already filtring into
cavern. The morning dew left a cold feeling on the skin. He
wrapped himself in a warm cloth. Gingerly, he stepped out
of the cave, feeling refreshed. A snorting sound echoed behind
him and the old sensation of the music of his name came to
his mind flitfully; it was not fantasy. This time, the sound
was clear, an indescribable voice, moving like the zephyr
echoed his name: Lalom, lalom, lalom!

He turned around the rock trying to focus his auditive skills
but he could not detect where the music came from. The sound
was interrupted by a creepy snorting sound that startled him. This was followed by a neighing sound. Yes, he knew it. It was a horse. But where was it? And since when have horses learned to sing. Gingerly, he moved around the rock craning his eyes in all directions. He saw nothing. Heard nothing. "Blimey!" He whispered, not believing his eyes when lo! just before him, standing behind a tree was a tall colt.

He advanced towards the animal, smiling sheepishly, confused as what manner of approach he ought to adopt in approaching it. When he was just some metres away, the animal backed o
The nymph said: "There are things you can't accomplish alone. that is why every race is made of male and female. Be humble. Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid"

bats in the cavern// the nymph and the horse/
the shield charm--

query draft:::

Haven Valley had declared her king missing. It has been 18th years, and somewhere out in a small village of a hillocky, a young seer dreams repeatedly of a tortured old man in a dinghy dungeon. Until his 18th birthday, Lalom has ignored where he came from, it was not until that night, when offering him the Magic Medal of the Dragon Eye, Ngasim revealed that he was an orphan.

When the forces of Virim, the cruel ruler kills his guardian, Lalom sets out on the journey, guided by magical instinct, to discover his roots and rescue the captured king of Haven Valley. He has to discover his destiny by advancing, making friends like the farting old Sentry who will eventually join forces in the end in the rescue.

out

"I see you miss your friend."
"Yes, I love him."
"Don't worry. All that we love always come back to us."
"I hope so" Lalom said warily, "But he was mad."
"He will understand"
The Sentry's voice was calm yet convincing. Lalom had developed a
secret fondness for him, the way he said things was particularty.
"Let's move."

He tripped and fell down hands thrown foward to catch the fall. "Hush you are!"
"Was a silly fall boy" He said brushing the dust off him.
"Hope you aren't hurt."
"Nae." He smiled. "Keep going."

The went through the country side. The earth looked barren. Through winding
paths that looked deserted for a very long time. Lalom was feverish. The kind of
fever that wasn't a physical ailment. Something sinister seemed to steal into
his heart. His mind was a numb block, an icy pain seared through his brain. He
barely suppressed the idea to cry. But he'd jerked slighted backward and the Sentry
noticed something was amiss.
"Are you okay?"
The house neighed galloping to a stop. Lalom felt the tight grip of the Sentry
on his back as he skidded on the horse. He was certain of nothing, the earth
seemed to spin around it and everything spun with it. Gyrfalcon flew above his
head. In a semi-conscious state, he heard the growling sounds of Lam.

3333

Lalom tried to get up. His vision was still blurred and the sight of the sunrays
beat piercingly on him. "Slowly boy, and good morning"

It was not the Sentry but a pair of two round heads looking down amazingly at him.
The Sentry smoked his pipe at a corner of the hearth. Lam lay at the edge of the
mat, woven of Raffia and stripes of ivy plants. The two faces smiled. They looked
so darn identical Lalom had the weird feeling he was seeing double. Just that one of
of the pair smiled broadly while his brother merely grinned timidly.
"Good morning" the little voices echoed in his ears.
"Good morning" He said. He tried to wring himself out of bed. But pain seared
through him. "oops. Gentler boy. It has been a rough ride."
"Where are we?"
"We are just leagues away from Haven Valley."
"Yes, but what is this place? Whose house is it?"
A hefty man came into the room. He seemed to breath hard. His eyes were broad.
"Welcome Lalom. Hope you had a great rest."
Lalom heaved a sigh, and nodded. The man did not tarry in the room. He left
as though he had ants on his heels. Then was back again within a few minutes holding
and cylindrical bowl in hand.
"This is steamy herbs. They will do you much good."
"The boy had carried more than his strength could let him." The sentry said.
"This will revitalize him. There is some huckleberry and rarest of healthy
herbs" The hefty man offered the bowl to Lalom. The vapour moved up to his face.
The Sentry cautioned him to sip slowly else it would burn his tongue, he did
not need to be remided, for his tongue was already burned. He felt alive after
drinking the savoury soup.

He had a heavy meal of pounded cocoyams with stewed beef. He ate silently, lost
in his gloomy thoughts. No one disturbed him. Even the Sentry appeared no where
to be found just like he'd understood that he needed time alone to enter deeper
into his own world.

Lalom had been used to being alone. His prolonged moments with Ngasim were just
occasional. For the past days, his experience had led him from the elation of
easy companionship to a sudden irritation. Although it felt great getting along
with the Sentry, the thought of Ngasim haunted him direly. To wake up with the
creepy feeling that Ngsaim would talk to him, or to hear footsteps and then be
assailed with the thought of Ngasim.

He leaned on the bed on his back, thrust open, and supporting his head with both
hands and gazed blankl wooden roof. The eaves and the matted grass the constituted
the bulk of the mattress felt warm on his back. He could not understand how
he came to this place. He could not even understand why he lived. Since Ngasim
passed away, his life had become senseless. Although he had come acrossfascinating
events, there was a hole in his heart that only Ngasim could fill. His sense of solitude
returned - he felt strangely attracted to his old life with Ngasim, and at thesame
time, he felt a grim sorrow eating within him for the loss of Ngsim. His ached
at the thought that he had lived with Ngasim believing him to be his father just
to be shaken out of stupor in a night.

Things shall never be the same again.

Then he heard the flapping of the wings and Gyrfalcon arched itself through the
open door and settled on his stomach. "Oouch." Lalom smiled stroking the birds
light wings. "You have been hunting around! Did you see Lam? Sleeping all day"
Gyrfalcon stared at him with its red flaming eyes and jerked its right wing upwards.
"That means yes."  Lalom grinned. "If you understand my language, please lift your
left wing now." Suddenly, to his surprise, Gyrfalcon's left wing stood up readily.
"That is pretty certain we can speak a lot of things." Its right wing was up again.
Lalom took the bird in his hands. "You are a great one."
"Can you hear my thoughts?" The right wing sprang up again.
Elated Lalom lay down and stretched himself in the wide bed. The medal glistened
on his chest leaving a soothing, cold feeling on his bare skin. The thoughts of
being followed completely vanished.
"Gyrfalcon!" he whispered in his mind as a thought suddenly edged him. "Can you
play the Sentry and be at the look-out for any vandals following us?" The bird
The gently jerking of the right wing indicated that all would be well. Then Lalom
lay back to sleep eased from one of those oppressing thoughts that keep sway in his
mind.

That afternoon, a little after he woke up, he heard the loose beats of the tam-tam
resounding rhytmically across the wild land. Hell! What with that thunderous sound!
He knew people dance and celebrate together. It has been years when Ngasim would
bring him around by the Warrior Dance. That was at his early teens. But then he could
not understand anything. The memory of those years flitted through his mind, the
wild rhythm of a country-fold that swirled the air, the spampede of feet on the
ground risen with the rhythm of the tam-tam and the metal gongs. Hastily, without any
further thought wound his robe arund him. He firmly tightened his ceinture. Clad in
his sword, he secured the latch of the door and went out to the direction of the
thrumming tam-tam sounds.

The sun had grown pale in the sky and gone leeward. Dusk sprayed a gray color over
the earth.
 

mchevrier@bellnet.ca

Lalom came out f the woods to open landscape sloping down a glen across which
rose another knoll where the music came from. Huts jutted losely each way of
the footpath. He ran down the glen, across the river, and uphil. His view
narrowed with the Indian bamboo that grew together in patches along the road.
He brushed on a young man with a matchet in hand.
"Hey, you look well when you walk."
"I am sorry." Lalom said "I wasn't cautious."
There was no danger in the boy's eyes. "It is okay." The boy offered his hand.
"Peace."
"I have never seen you before."
"Yes. I am just passing by."
Where are you from?"
"I am from beyond the Pricks."
"Blimey. You crossed the Pricks alone? You must be a wizard."
"No. I had a companion."
"But 'tis still creepy man."
They hadn't spoken much when two other boys joined him. They were hilariously
happy. Lalom didn't get the point in it. He found himself among a group of
five boys. They spoke Lamnso, the same language that Ngasim had taught him but
with a slightly different accent. The tallest of them looked much younger
the the rest, a ruby face with a childish expression. "So you are just visiting
here.?" One of them asked him.
"Yes." lalom didn't want to talk.
"Where do you hail from?" They did not let him to answer, than they sent him
tons of questions "Where are you staying?" and "What is your business here?" and
"are you staying here for good?"
"Those are lots of questions. You guys speak too fast."
"Are you circumcis

There was a serene calm that descended upon Lalom's heart the very moment he spoke with the Bearer of Seals. He knew he was no longer a fugitive running from an annamed enemy, he would be pursued, but somewhere deep inside, he was certain that he'd had a place to nestle his head.
"Your return to Haven Valley is providential." He looked at lalom. "For the moment, all you have to do is to discover Haven Valley, following your insinct."
"Thanks father."
You may return here for lunch, but I will be having an audience. Just make yourself welcome."
They finished talking. It was a simple meeting. Lalom etched with the urge to go out. Yes, he was free to discover Haven Valley, after the spirit and instinct of the Son of Haven Valley. Like Youssef he was free. But freedom is not always free. There is always that limit that makes it responsible. Lamlenn saw him off at the from porch. After he bade him farewell, he leaned on the banister and watched him descend the steps down into the open courtyard. Lalom felt all eyes on him. He didn't care. He was in Haven Valley, the place where everyone is free.
Down where the main road took of from the palace, he turned to look. The old man still stared at him. He was waving over the barister. Lalom waved back. There are many good souls in this godamn earth, he thought and strode on warily. His head dazed with the wine and he was in high humour.

Outside the crikets chrped punctuating the silence that engulfed the farmland. The moon shone brightly over the marshy swamps of ricefield, they grissled. That night, its beauty had faded, contrasting the alluring attractions of Manila. A wave of varied sensations swept through my heart, as I hugged the idea of a new prospect of hope that the future offered, there was equally that nagging pain of leaving this earth I had known.

I looked back over the rice fields, the house swayed over the shacks. It looked like a haunting witch, I felt sad, terribly sad without knowing why. It was then that I perceived the sihlouette of my sister.

She walked to me. She also looked sad. "Are you going to leave us, sister?" There was a sad dismay in her
voice."Yes" I said knowing she big enough to be cajoled." I have to go."
She wound her arm around me. A little agitated and convulsively wept like she was still a baby. "Do you understand why I have to go?"
"Yes" She said almost whispering "I know."
Then looking into her eyes, I asked, "Will you take good care of mama?"
"Yes."
"That is a deal between us. I am going to work so we can have money to pay her medication and to send you back to school."
She was still wrapped in my arms. Her heart thrummed. Fear took the colour of her eyes. A faint breeze rusttled through the plants, she shivered slightly. "You must be strong" I said, holding her strongly against me "mama will need you to be strong."
"Yes I will be. Only thing is I am going to miss you."
Silently we walked back to the house.

That night I did not sleep well. I had strange dreams. I was in a far off foreign land. Lost in a strange place. My phone was ringing, and Heon was calling. I could not hear what she said clearly. Her voice was faint and choppy. She was anxious. I knew something was wrong.
"Heon! I can't hear you. Can you ...Heon."

Then I was awake.

Mama was perched over the bed, her hair tilted a little sideways. "All
is well my daughter."
My heart skidded to life aeeing her smile. She seemed so alive.

In an instant my arms were around her neck. "mama."
She cupped my head in her hands like I was a baby and hugged me again. I did not feel a frail body wearing out with illness, but a love that went beyond all imagining. In an instant, I had the illusion that my mother was healed. Then I remembered her courage and strength of character.
"Breakfast is ready. You have had a long sleep."
"Yes, a troubled sleep." I murmured.
"I understand you, daughter. It happens especially when we make those choices that would bring change in our lives." Her face beamed with a rare light. "Come on. Eat your breakfast while it is still warm."

The sun had gone up in the sky. My head ached. Then there was a knock at the door.

Mylene made to go, then hesitated at the threshold. She turned round, leaning on the door. "Isis" I winked. "If I were you, I'd care about my business and not give a damn about what Chichi is saying."

My head fell on my down. My chin rested on my hands. How could I ignore someone who brought me here. I'd have problems with everyone, but not Chichi. I felt water forming around the corners of my eyes. Her eye-brows lifted and she burst out laughing.
"Come on gurl. Don't be such a jerk."
"I can't just handle this." I was actually sobbing.
Mylene came closer to me and sat by the bed like a sister. She said nothing, like she would want me to have enough space to release my emotions. When I felt a little calmer, I wanted to tell her I was akay. But she was talking again: "I have to tell you this. None of us loves this job. We all got a problem. Family probs. Everyone got something pushes her here. You have your sick mom to worry about than spend your time on frivolities. Chichi has her own selfish world."
"Thanks ate" I said, at the same time feeling the consolation that Mylene could give me such attention.
"Are you coming with us?" She asked again. Her voice sounding beseeching. "It won't hurt you anyways. But 'tis sure gonna be fun."

After Mass that sunday, I decided to talk to the priest. I lined in the queue, and waited my turn. It had been long since I last went to confession. I did not care. I have recently embraced the either that one can talk directly to God. Was it? As we become more in contact with evil, the awareness of its sense fade in our minds. As I stood in line, I was torn emotionally, my mind was racing, I did not know what I wanted to do. I just felt an irresistible urge to talk to someone, but in a city, you can't just trust anyone. My mind race through a myriads of things. Somewhere at the backdrop of my mind, the image of Chichi's snarling face popped up permanently. I don't know if it was hatred I felt for her or pity. But there was an unbreakable glass that sheathed her, no one can penetrate her little work, and how little it was, she delighted herself to remain in it.

The line grew tiner and tiner. And the lady infront of me seemed more composed and relaxed. She was beautiful.

God that she was beautiful. I considered her long neck, the curls of thick shimmery hair falling deftly over her shoulders. What could such a clean, beautiful woman be guilty of? I wondered, keeping in line that grew thiner and thiner. Then her time came and she was in the confessional. It seemed like hours, she wasn't coming out. At one point I thought she might have passed out without me noticing or had she gone by another door, hidden behind the screen? Of course the priest would have made a sign. Then she came out.

Her face was same, bright- her wide beautiful brwon eyes stared at me for an instant. She smiled and gave way as I skidded inside.

I had forgotten also how to start a confession. As I kneeled before the priest, making the sign of the cross he said like an automatic machine: "May God's grace touch your heart"
"Father..." I was stucked. I coughed. That same dry cough we we manage when we have forgotten what that weird name of the guy who discovered the moon was in an oral exam, a name that everyone knows. The priest's face was calm and serene.
"I am listening my daughter."
"Actually father, I just came to talk with you."
I do not know what his silence insinuated. "Go on"
"I don't know. Mama is sick. We have nothing for her cure. I came to work in Manila."
"Have you found any work?"
"Nae"
"Where do you come from?"
"Olongapo, father"
"Manila isn't a nice place for a woman to be alone."
Tears almost trickled down my eyes. That was the same cautious words my mother had spoken when I left home. "I am still listening to confessions, my daughter, he said. Can you wait in church. We can talk after this. There are still people waiting outside."

There was fear and hope in my heart as I rose up and left the confessionnel. Outside, the beautiful woman sat at the last bench at the back of the Church. Was she also waiting to talk privately to the priest? As these ideas passed through my mind, I noticed that she was looking at me furtively. Agitated, I sat at the same bench. Some three metres distance separated us from each other.

Surprisingly she moved closer to me and offering her hand said "Hi"
"Hi" I said. Wondering. Has the priest prayed for me already? What was it she had to talk to me? Was she in the same crisis as I?
"I am Myra."
"I am Solis." I said.
"Your name suits you."
"Thanks. And is it a compliment?"
"Yes. I never saw a woman with such an aura."
"What?" I was touched and startled at the same time. "I mean you are a very beautiful woman." She explained.
"Oh. You are more beautiful." I said, blushing.
"By the way, where do you come from?"
"Olongapo."
"I see. Are you working here?"
That is where the deception is. Look at me, do i look like someone who is working. "No ma'am. Actually I am looking for a job.What about you?"
"I work in a corporation. I also run a business of mine."
"Waouw. Congrats." I said, a sense of jealouy stealing through my emotions.

Someone touched me on the shoulder and whispered gesturing for silence. "Remember we are in church." It was then we realized other people were communing with God at that moment.
The priest came out. My new-found friend was about to leave and gave me her business card. I could not be grateful enough. One never chooses where and how to meet friends.
"Keep in touch." She said with that kind of smile that is rare to find and slowly, gracefully moved out of the Church.

The flirt was tiring. It was not only the people that were annoying but the place itself with the music and the smoke. My first days in Flirt was alarmingly disgusting, the place reeled with liquer. People got drunk. People misbehaved. People were- you can fancy what they mean when they say it- darn naughty.

I recall my first day in flirt. The evening was already bad with Chichi's endless tantrums and snarling language.

I felt feverish upon entering the flirt. There was a grim repulsion that touched me at the core. Then I thought of the money and I thought of mama bed-ridden and where I would have to live if I was packed from the dorm. All I wanted was money. No matter how it came - and I wander who earns money without getting soiled somewhere or somehow-, no matter what it took. In my hindmind, I had nurtured the thought that I was doing this for my junior sister and my bed-ridden mama. Yes they were everything I had. And I would do anything, just anything to ensure the preservation of their life. This thought buoyed up in me infusing within my breast a new light on treating things.

Flirt was a kind of wide ballroom, with an elevated platform. On the platform a tall rose up to the ceiling. A shimer of multicoloured lights rivetted on the dais. Tables were dressed in the space round the dais. As we walked in I felt pairs of naughty eyes on us. I follwed Mylene to the dressing room. I felt giddy with fear and confusion.
"Girl, just stay around me. I will tell you what to do."
"Sure." I said, uncertain of what I said.
She presented me to a set of almost nude girls that had come earlier than us. They weren't practiaclly beautiful. They looked at me curiously. It felt like someone telling you. "Poor girl. Why the heck are you doing in that damn place?" Or stuff like "Clean girl turned dirty?"
"Today was Sunday." One started.
"Hey today is sunday." Corrected a plump girl with tussled hair. Turning to me "Did you go to mass? Did you ask forgiveness for the guy you are gonna ride today?" She asked casually, but I could detect a grim sense of humour in her voice. I did not like the group, at least their language. But I felt at home, connected in some way to their world, I was already part of that world - a set of unfortunate women, brought to this mess by the structure of the society.
"Dress up girl. What are you waiting for." Mylene said. And the plump girl retorted, "You are dressing up to go to church? Strip girl. You have no choice if you wanna catch a fat bird." She was laughing loud.
Just then the Manager popped in as though she had, through some sort of telepathy, known that I was getting miserable. "Hurry up girls. We have got Customers coming in."
And turning to me she nodded: "You are something to behold."
"Thanks madam." I said.
Then leaning close to me she said: "Don't forget the rules of the house. No giving of cellular numbers to clients. No dates with clients outside of here. No sex in the drinking area. Private Rooms are paid over the counter" I nodded meaning that I understood. She said "Good luck" and stepped out.

My spirit sank within me. My heart pounded hard. I winced and fretted. My hands were kind of shaky as I applied make-up on my face. "God. God. God." I kept repeating. Yes my mother was right. The priest was right when he looked at me with pity in his eyes. Myra has always been right telling me that men were soul-less creatures.

Mylene was talking. Her voice startled me. "Listen girl. You always have a choice to have sex or not. I know you are so innocent and sexy. Remember, if you really don't wanna be naughty with me, just tell them you have it." She handed me a modest napkins stained with a red liquid.
I smiled back in acknowledgement.

And so the trick worked. The first day was not so bad. I had three clients. A grey old man and two young guys. The old man had difficulties in articulation. I had the impression that he was a rich man. He ordered five bottles for me. I later understood that five bottles of beer. Five ladies drinks were good enough commision for a night. By the time I met the other guys, my head was aching, the other bottles that were served me were just coloured water.

The place reeled with music. I felt completely at ease. I was talkative after drinking the fist bottle of San Miguel. I was lousy. I went to the toilets many a time. Sometimes I sat there, listening to the buzz of the hall, the cadence of music jarring my ears, then the jeers from men who watched nude girls dancing.

I did not see Mylene for hours. She huttled from one table to another. She was being asked by men. It seemed like many guys knew her pretty well. I have been looking around furtively hoping to catch a wink of her, but she seemed completely disappeared. Then the DJ announced a number. And to my utter surprise, she was on the dais. Her body slender, stark naked. She moved like a snake, i don't know how she did it. I loved and hated her at the same time. I shared the jeers of the people, but I hated her for being there, nude and masturbating before the crowd. I hated her for stooping so low, but I could not ignore the charm she wielded. Her dance did not just aroused the men in the crowd, it roused me.

When she woke me to go home. I was surprised. I was sleeping in the guy's laps and I ignored where his hands were. We received our pay, washed off the make-up. Everything left a dizzying feeling on me. Soon we were in a cab riding home. I was drunk and exhausted.

After a month I could count around 25 thousand pesos in my account. It was much more than I ever could have dreamt of for many years. I suppose it was enough money than my mom had ever touched in a one time.

On Christmas I called my mom. I would have gone home. But that was a period that many tourists flock to manila, the flirt buzzes always with life at this period. "How are you my daughter?" I thrilled at the mere hearing of her voice.
"I am doing great mama."
"How is your work?"
"Challenging, but I am trying." I said wishing she wouldn't ask me what my work was. And she didn't.
"Heon says thanks alot for the gifts you sent her."
"She is sweet." I said giggling.
"Mama!" I said. "Tell me." Her voice was flushed with emotion. I could feel a joyful teardrop on my face.
"I have to go. I love you."
"I love you Solis." The line went off. And her voice echoed through my head.

I looked out to the street, the lights shone from bars. The whole Bonifacio Drive reeled with karake music and blasts of fireworks. I scanned, craning my eyes in every direction, my thoughts lightened by my brief conversation with my mother.

Working in flirt was fun and stress at the same time. It was fun to watch drunks and naughty girls. There were weird stories I heard.

One evening a weird guy came into the bar. He ordered for himself a bottle of beer. His head was bald-shaven, or he was bald. He was a young man in his mid 20s. He sat at the wall of the ballroom. He never stood up. His gaze moved sometimes from one end to another. I noticed particularly that he was handsome. Everyone in the bar wanted to flirt with him, but he was cold, and answered any question with a hrug of the shoulders, a shake of the head or a simple smile.

I could not desisit from staring at him. I did not know why, but I could not help staring at him. The curious thing about flirt is that every girl looked pretty and sexy under the