hot tubs and cold showers

(room 502, the bellevue manila. 9:30pm)

you have sufficiently scrubbed, hair spa-ed, shampooed, shaved, and now you have been soaking in a hot bubble bath for the past 45 minutes.

you lie there in anticipation of what is ahead: caviar is being served on crostini with assorted cheese on the side; a bottle of white bubbly has been chilling in the bucket; vanilla ice cream, dark chocolate, stemmed maraschino cherries are waiting to sweeten your night.

the feather down quilt lies sprawled carelessly across the king-sized bed, its equally feather-stuffed pillows haphazardly strewn about, as you both neglected to make it up from previous activities.

the next best thing to a man wrapped around me is this quilt, you remember thinking, an impish smile playing on your lips.

your fingers begin pruning, signalling the time has come to finally surface from the foams. you allow the water to cascade down your body as you reach for the bottle of body oil. using your fingertips, you smooth delicately-scented drops over your supple curves. you gently pat down your skin with a fresh, toasty towel then slip into a light, fluffy white robe.

you step out from the bathroom and glide towards the dresser, stopping momentarily in front of the wall-length mirror to oh-so-casually admire your goddess-like radiance (as you have never felt this beautiful in your entire life). you are confident that the moment he sees you in this state, he will want for nothing but to throw you onto that carelessly sprawled feather-down quilt and ravish you senseless.

but that will have to wait... besides, your hair isn't quite perfect yet.

standing in front of the dresser, you run your fingers through your wet locks to loosen the occassional errant tangle into submission, and then proceed with the chore of blowing it dry.

putting the appliance down, you take in what you see in the mirror: perfection.

you see your companion smile at you through the mirror and affirms your observations by stating: "you're glowing."

you sweetly smile back and reply: "i know... isn't it sad?"

your best girl friend whole-heartedly agrees.

because you aren't lesbian...

and neither is she.

so you turn and reach for the remote control as she alights from her commercial law reviewer to take her turn in the hot tub.


- semi-pathetic but perfect-haired jargoyle